-The train got in
half an hour ago.
George's brother
should be here by now.
I hope he didn't have
trouble finding a cab.
-Oh, traffic's pretty
heavy downtown.
-I sure will be glad to meet
good old Mr. Wilson's brother
because I've never met
a real writer before.
-Say, he's a fine writer.
We read all those
articles you sent over.
-We liked them.
-Good.
-I'm so glad you'll
have someone staying
with you while
Mr. Wilson's away.
-So am I Alice.
John was coming
out this way anyway
on an assignment so
it'll work out just fine.
-And don't you
worry Mrs. Wilson.
I'll help you look after him.
Anything I can do to-- hey!
Here comes a cab now!
-Martha!
Oh, you look wonderful!
-So do you.
It's so nice to see you.
-Good to see you.
-These are our friends,
Alice and Henry Mitchell.
-How do you do Mr. Wilson.
-How do you do.
How do you do.
Glad to know you.
And this must be Dennis.
How are you young man?
-Hi Mr. Wilson.
I sure am glad to meet ya,
because me and your brother
are best friends.
-I know you are.
He's written me all
about you, often.
-He has?
-Oh yes.
Yes he says you're a great
help to him at all times.
-I sure am.
And I'm going to help you too.
[theme music]
-There.
I thought they'd brighten
things up while you work.
-Thank you, Martha.
Of course I'd rather
sit and visit with you
but this article's due
at the end of the week
and I have to get it
in the mail tomorrow.
-I understand, John.
What's the article about?
-Well, it's called "Observations
from a Parlor Car Window."
I intended to write
it on the train
but I got so busy
looking out the window
that I simply didn't do it.
-Well, I'll keep the
house quiet and see
that nobody bothers you.
-Oh no, no, no, Martha,
don't you worry about me.
Nothing bothers me when I work.
I'm not one of those
temperamental writers
who has to have
everything just so.
I can write any place.
-Well that's good.
This is just fine.
Everything's set up just
the way I had it at home.
It all seems familiar to me.
-Well I suppose
that is important.
-I'll knock this out in no time.
Now.
[typing]
No, no.
Oh, come on brain,
wake up, wake up.
[typing]
-Well how's it going?
-Straight into the wastebasket.
-Oh dear.
-Hi Mrs. Wilson!
Hi Mr. Wilson!
-Hello Dennis.
-Hi Dennis.
-What are you writing?
Something on your typewriter?
-Well I'm trying
to Dennis, but I
don't seem to be
having any luck.
-Jeepers, I know how
that is, all right.
Whenever I get a composition
to write for homework
I have a heck of a
time getting started.
-I suppose that happens to
all writers sometimes dear.
-What can I do to
help you Mr. Wilson?
-Not a thing Dennis.
-Are you sure?
-Yes I'm sure.
I know what the
trouble is Martha.
-You do?
Good, what is it?
-Well I've been fighting against
mentioning it all morning
because it-- well
it sounds so silly.
-Doesn't sound silly to me.
What is it?
-My cushion.
-Your cushion?
-I always take my old chair
cushion with me wherever I go
but this time I
forgot to pack it.
I've been sitting
on it for years
and I just can't
work without it.
-Well why didn't you say so?
That's no problem.
The house is full of cushions.
-Oh well I tried this one.
It's too thick.
-Well just relax.
I'll round up every
cushion in the house
and you can have your pick.
-And don't you worry.
I'll get some from
our house too.
I've got a dandy one that
I always put in my pants
when it looks like I'm
going to get a spanking.
-Too thick.
No, too thin.
Too hard.
Oh I hate to be
picky about this.
Don't think I'm
eccentric, please.
-Oh we don't think
that at all Mr. Wilson.
-Of course not.
-I don't even know
what it means.
-It's no use Martha.
None of these even look
like my old cushion.
-I'm so sorry we couldn't help.
-What does your cushion
look like, Mr. Wilson?
-Oh, it's just an old
faded blue corduroy thing,
stuffed with goose feathers.
It just happens to fit me.
It makes me feel comfortable.
-I know how you feel.
I used to have a
b*at-up old teddy bear.
And if he wasn't in bed with
me at night, I couldn't sleep.
-Mm hm.
-That's before I
grew up, of course.
I don't have that kind
of silly stuff anymore.
-Well, perhaps I
haven't grown up Dennis.
-Dennis, we'd better get on
home and let Mr. Wilson think.
-Thank you, Mrs. Mitchell.
-Thanks for coming, Alice.
-You go ahead mom.
I'll stay here and help
Mr. Wilson for a while.
-Dennis, we are
both going home now.
-OK.
Just let me give him
my ballpoint pen.
If you can't write
with a typewriter maybe
you can write with this.
Here, I'll show ya.
Now you try.
[crash]
-Oh, here they are Martha.
-I'll hang them out to dry.
I can press them later.
Thank you.
Oh, I've got to get that
article written some way.
-You will.
You'll get it finished on
time and it'll be wonderful.
-Do you really think so?
-Of course.
Now forget about that cushion.
Relax your mind and go
in there and get to work.
-By thunder, I will.
This silly business about a
faded cushion is ridiculous.
I'm not a child Martha.
I am a writer.
And what does a writer do?
He writes.
-That's the way to talk.
-Observations from--
[typing] --a parlor--
[doorbell]
-If that's Dennis Mitchell
again I'll-- come in.
[typing]
-Oh!
How wonderful, the
author at work.
-Ah, ah, ah, who?
-Oh what a splendid
moment to catch you.
Right in the throws
of literary creation.
Oh this is fascinating.
-But-- but, madam I-- I--
-I'm sorry.
I haven't introduced myself.
I am Isabel Tolliver, president
of the lady's literary circle.
And a dear friend of Martha's.
-Oh, oh, well she's outside.
I'll call--
-Oh, no, no-- don't bother.
You're the one I came
to see, Mr. Wilson.
It isn't everyday I get to meet
an important literary figure.
-Oh, well.
I wouldn't call myself that.
I just write an
occasional article
for the National Journal.
-Oh, but such
fascinating articles.
The one last month, where the
Vikings discovered America
before Columbus-- well, it
was just simply marvelous.
-Well, that was rather
good, I thought.
-So erudite.
So-- so literary.
And I am here to invite you
to lecture before our club
on the Vikings next Friday.
You will come, of course.
-Well I'm very
busy Mrs. Tolliver.
I have a deadline.
-We won't take no for
an answer, Mr. Wilson.
Oh, I can just see how
you'll bring those old Norse
heroes back to life for us.
-Well I have
researched the subject
pretty thoroughly but-- but--
-Oh I knew you'd agree to it.
I can't wait to tell the girls.
I'll pick you up myself.
Friday afternoon at one.
-Yeah uh, well, I'll be ready.
-Oh this will be our
most thrilling afternoon.
There'll be tea and
cookies, of course.
-Of course.
One more thing Mrs. Tolliver.
How did you know I was here?
I only arrived yesterday.
-Dear little Dennis
Mitchell told me.
-Oh, what a helpful little boy.
-And I got a great
idea Tommy, that'll
be the swellest surprise
Mr. Wilson ever had.
-Yeah?
What is it?
-I'll make him a cushion,
just like his old one
that he can't write with
without sitting on it.
-How are you going to
make him a cushion?
-Oh, it's easy.
He said it was
faded blue corduroy,
and dad's got a pair of old
corduroy pants just the color.
I'm going in right now and
see if I can have them.
-What's the matter?
-I just thought of something.
I'll have to get Mr. Wilson's
measurements first-- you know,
so the cushion will fit him.
-That won't be easy if you're
going to keep it a secret.
-We'll figure out some way.
-Hey, I know.
I'll run upstairs and
get mom's tape measure.
And then we'll go
next door real sly
and sneak the size
of Mr. Wilson's seat.
-Now on top of everything else
I have a confounded lecture
to worry about with a room
full of gushing women and tea
and cookies.
Ew!
-You should have just said no.
-Well, if she hadn't been a
friend of yours I would have.
-A friend of mine?
Isabel Tolliver?
-Well that's what she said.
-Oh, she's no friend of mine.
I don't like her very much.
You don't have to
go on my account.
-Oh, fine.
-Why don't you just
call up and cancel it?
-Oh no, I did promise.
I gave her my word.
I don't know.
I guess I'm just stuck.
-Yes, a promise is a promise.
-What annoys me even
more-- I won't get any fee.
-Oh?
-No, for a lecture I
usually get dollars.
-What was it you said people
get dollars for Mr. Wilson?
-For lecturing.
-You mean dollars
just for talking?
Boy, I could get rich that way.
-Yes, I've noticed the tendency.
-I'm going to start
our lunch, John.
Now boys, don't
disturb Mr. Wilson.
He's trying to think.
-We won't, Mrs. Wilson.
OK Tommy.
You know what to do.
Get him to bend over.
-Mr. Wilson.
-Hm?
-There's a penny on the ground.
Did you drop it?
-I don't think so.
-Maybe I did.
-Well, why don't you pick it up?
-Might not be mine.
Mom says I oughtn't pick
up things that aren't mine.
-Oh great Caesar.
Is it yours?
-It sure looks
like the one I had.
-Take it with my blessing.
And thank you for
not disturbing me.
-We got him.
-Yeah!
Boy, I'll need plenty of cloth.
Boy, mom and dad
sure looked confused
when I ripped his
old trousers up.
-Parents get
confused awful easy.
-Yeah.
Boy I hope Mr. Quigley's
got some goose feathers
at the market so I can start
making Mr. Wilson's cushion.
-Why does Mr. Wilson have
to have goose feathers?
-I don't know.
Maybe they're the softest kind.
-Maybe.
I never felt a goose before.
I never felt a goose before.
-Me neither.
But if that's what Mr. Wilson
wants, I've got to get them.
-Warm enough for
you, Mrs. Nolan?
-I should say it is.
It's very pleasant
in here, though.
-Oh, thank you.
I try to keep it comfortable
for my customers.
-Hi, Mr. Quigley!
Do you have any goose
feathers I can have?
-Please, Dennis.
Don't you see I'm
waiting on a customer?
-Oh, excuse me.
There you are, Mrs. Nolan.
Now what was it Dennis?
Feathers?
-Yeah!
I need some to--
-I know.
You want to put
them in your hair
and pretend to be
an Indian chief.
I've got a whole bag of them
out there the storeroom.
Go ahead and help yourself.
-Jeepers, thanks, Mr. Quigley.
Come on, Tommy.
-Mr. Quigley?
-That's right.
I don't believe
I've met you before.
Are you new in town?
-I'm John Wilson.
I'm staying at my
brother's house.
-Oh yeah, that's right.
Mrs. Wilson told me about you.
You're some kind of a
writer or something.
-That's right.
-You don't look much like one.
-How is a writer
supposed to look?
-Well, from all
I've heard, they're
all sort of on the
screwball side.
-Well that may apply to
some writers Mr. Quigley,
but not to me.
I just an ordinary, average
man with no peculiarities
whatsoever.
-Well, I'm glad to hear it.
Hey, what can I do for you?
-Do you have any
concentrated cucumber juice?
-Concentrated cucumber juice.
-I find when it's
mixed with skimmed milk
it tends to relax me.
-I'm glad to meet an
ordinary, average writer.
-Do you have it or don't you?
-I don't.
My juices are over there.
Maybe you can find
something you can use.
-Thank you.
-Oh, by the way--
while you're there,
take a look at my soup counter.
A salesman loaded me
up with a dozen cans
of ordinary, average
kangaroo tail soup.
-Are these the feathers
we can have, Mr. Quigley?
-Oh good grief, Dennis.
Did you have to bring
the whole bag out here?
I thought you only
wanted a handful.
-No, I need more than that.
-Well, all right but don't
take the sack away with you.
Here, put what you
need in this box.
And put it over there.
Get it away from the counter.
-OK Mr. Quigley.
Come on Tommy, give me a hand.
-Oh, hello their boys.
-Oh, hi Mr. Wilson.
-What are you
trying to do there?
-Oh, just emptying some
stuff into this box.
-Oh you better let
me give you a hand.
That bag's too big
for you to handle.
-Oh no Mr. Wilson.
We can handle it.
-Come along now, fellas.
You let me do--
-Please, Mr. Wilson.
-I'll do it for you.
There, just leave it to me.
-Boy, look at him go.
-Yeah!
-What in the world?
Right in front of the fan.
What's the big idea?
You think you're a
school girl having
a pillow fight or something?
-Well, I'm-- I'm sorry, I didn't
know what was in the sack.
-I might expect that from a boy
like Dennis, but a man your age
should know better.
-Well, I said I'm sorry.
-Well, stop being sorry and
start picking up the feathers.
-We'll help you Mr. Wilson.
-Just an ordinary,
average writer.
-My goodness, Dennis.
You're a real traffic hazard.
-Hi, Margaret.
I was thinking so hard
about goose feathers,
I didn't even see ya.
-Goose feathers?
-Yeah, I thought I had
some, but they turned out
to be plain old
chicken feathers.
Nobody's got goose feathers.
-My mother has.
-She has?
Real ones?
-Of course they're real.
They're in a pillow my
grandmother gave us.
-Oh boy!
Would you let me have them?
'Cause I sure need them.
-Well, I suppose I could.
We don't use it anymore.
-Jeepers, that's swell.
-If--
-I might have known
there'd be an if.
-You can have the feathers
if you come and play house
with me.
And be a father to our
darling little Gwendolyn.
-Oh no.
You can keep the feathers.
I'm not going to be the
father of that dumb old doll.
Not again, never.
-(SINGING) Rock-a-bye
Gwendolyn in the tree top.
When the wind blows,
the cradle will rock.
-You're such a
good father Dennis.
-Well, I'm an
awful tired father.
I've been messing around with
Gwendolyn for a whole hour.
Can I have the feathers now?
-Well, all right.
-Great!
-If!
-I knew it.
-You can have the feathers
if you'll do one more thing.
Gwendolyn needs changing.
-Jeepers.
-You do that, and I'll
get the feathers for you.
-Boy, the things I go
through to help a friend.
[sigh]
-May I interrupt a minute, John?
-Interrupt what?
There's nothing going on here.
-I'm sure you'll get the
article written in time.
-It's not just the
article, Martha.
While you were visiting
down the street,
that Tolliver woman
barged in here again.
-What did she want?
-She brought me this.
-My goodness!
What is it?
-A Viking helmet.
She insists that I wear
it during the lecture.
She says it will
create the proper mood.
I ask you.
-Well it does make you
look very distinguished.
-I look like a bull
with a mustache.
-I still think you ought
to call off the lecture.
-Oh no.
As a man of my
word, I'm obligated.
-Well, I have to go along.
Good luck John.
-Hi Mr. Wilson!
-Oh, hi Dennis.
-Guess what I got in this bag.
-An atom b*mb.
-Heck, you're not even warm.
It's something for you.
It's--
[doorbell]
-Pardon me.
-It's me again Mr. Wilson.
May I come in?
-You are.
Please do.
-Oh, I know it's
very naughty of me
to keep interrupting
you like these.
I know how you literary
men like to woo the muse.
-Oh yes, we're great wooers.
-Well I have a wonderful
idea for the lecture.
And I wanted-- oh, hello Dennis.
-Hi Mrs. Tolliver.
-So I simply had
to share with you.
-Share away.
-Well, I feel that
appropriate music
would add to the occasion.
So I am going to sing
the song of the Valkyrie.
They were the
warrior maidens who
carried the Viking
heroes off to paradise.
-You are going to sing?
-Yes.
Oh, if I hadn't married, I could
have had a career in opera.
In fact, my husband often says,
you shouldn't have married.
Oh, now listen.
[singing]
-Is this to take place
before or after the lecture?
-During.
-During.
-While you're telling the
exploits of the Vikings,
I shall perform
in the background.
Oh, it should cause
a lot of comment.
-I can hear it now.
-Our club will never
forget this lecture.
Aren't you excited?
-Oh, I'm all atwitter.
-I'd be excited
too if I was going
to get $ like Mr.
Wilson's going to get.
-$ ?
-Yeah.
He says that's what he always
gets when he gives lectures.
Didn't you, Mr. Wilson?
-Well, yeah-- I--
I-- yes, Dennis.
Oh, thank you for reminding me.
-Why, I never
dreamed you expected
to be paid, Mr. Wilson.
Why, our club only has
$ . in the treasury.
-How regrettable.
-Oh, couldn't you speak
this once without a fee?
We're so literary.
-Oh, I'm sure you
are, Mrs. Tolliver.
However, we lecturers have a
very strong rule about this.
If I didn't charge you,
I would be drummed out
of the lecturers' union.
-Well, I'm-- I'm
afraid we'll just
have to cancel the whole thing.
-Oh, that's too bad.
May I show you to the door?
I'm sorry that I've robbed
you of the opportunity
to render the song
of the Valkyrie.
-But you haven't!
We've lost you, but I'll
make it up to the girls.
I shall sing the
whole aria for them.
[singing]
-Goodbye, Mr. Wilson.
-Goodbye, warrior maiden.
Oh, Dennis, I'm very
grateful to you.
Though I don't expect
you to understand why.
-I bet I do.
You really didn't want to talk
to those ladies after all,
did ya?
-Oh my, you are an
intelligent lad.
-Why, I sure wish you'd
tell my teacher that.
-No, it's such a
relief to get out
of the clutches of that woman.
Now if I could only
start that article.
-That's what I came over about.
This is for you.
-What in the world is this?
-It's a cushion, just like
your favorite one-- same color,
and it's full of goose feathers.
I made it for ya.
-Well, that was a
very kind thought.
-Sit on it Mr. Wilson, please.
-All right, Dennis.
-How does it feel?
OK?
-Feels pretty good.
George, it does feel good.
Feels like my old cushion.
-It does?
Now you can start
writing, can't ya?
-Well, I-- [clap] wait a minute.
I've got an idea.
I know how to
start that article.
Oh, this is wonderful.
-I knew that good old
cushion would do it.
-Aha, well.
[typing]
-Dennis, you could have played
cops and robbers today, gone
fishing, done a dozen things
little boys like to do.
Instead you made me a cushion.
Now, why did you go to all
that trouble just for me?
-Because I want us to
be friends, Mr. Wilson.
Do you want us to be?
-Yes, Dennis.
Having you as a friend
will make me very proud.
-Jeepers, that's swell.
Well, I'll go home
now and let you work.
-Oh no.
You stay right here.
You're my inspiration.
I need you.
-You do?
-Oh indeed I do.
Well, now let's see.
Aha!
Here we go.
[typing]
[theme music]
03x33 - John Wilson's Cushion
Watch/Buy Amazon Merchandise
Follows the Mitchell family – Henry, Alice, and their only child, Dennis, an energetic, trouble-prone, mischievous, but well-meaning boy, who often tangles first with his peace-and-quiet-loving neighbor, George Wilson, a retired salesman, and later with George's brother John, a writer.
Follows the Mitchell family – Henry, Alice, and their only child, Dennis, an energetic, trouble-prone, mischievous, but well-meaning boy, who often tangles first with his peace-and-quiet-loving neighbor, George Wilson, a retired salesman, and later with George's brother John, a writer.