Bailing Out Mr. Banks

Purpose. Isn’t that all we want in life?

Well, no we also want to be happy and satisfied and something about the hierarchy of needs, but in essence life is nothing without purpose.

This applies even more in fiction, where if a character doesn’t have a purpose, why does he even exist?

Bill Malloy has been given a new shot of purpose thanks to writer Francis Swann, who despite a few (or several) continuity errors, is settling in as Dark Shadows’s new co-writer.

Malloy has found himself smack dab in the center of the boiling controversy surrounding Burke Devlin, Roger Collins, Sam Evans, and that wretched night ten years ago when a man was killed in a car accident.

Malloy has taken it upon himself to get justice and clear Burke’s name, even if it means tossing Roger into prison. And he is doing this, we have learned, out of deep loyalty, affection, and even love for the matriarch of the Collins family, whose name, enterprise and dignity are all threatened by Burke’s continued presence in town.

How soapy. What took so long?

But this conflict has forced Malloy to do some pretty questionable things. From getting his old friend Sam drunk to coax the truth out of him, to repeatedly brushing off the increasingly worried woman he’s trying to protect, to getting piss drunk at what is apparently still daytime as he grapples with what he must now do.

Not everybody is weighed down by such pressing concerns, of course. Some people’s purpose is pleasure.

And a bitchin’ new haircut.

Our girl Carolyn got a haircut on the way back from Bangor. This is single-handedly the 60-est thing this show has yet given us and Nancy Barrett wears the hell out of it.

That’s what he calls her, remember? I know it’s hard since the show forgot he existed for a while.

Malloy, who is very drunk, lets slip that he was told she was in Bangor, which immediately wrankles Carolyn who, as we know, hates when people are justifiably concerned about her questionable decisions.

Carolyn immediately assumes the worst of Joe.

Cap: “Did he follow me there to spy on me?”

Projection, sweetie.

Long years pining after her uncle have told her just what “drunk” looks like.

I’ll take the continuity errors. This is swell.

Carolyn immediately worries that Malloy is getting drunk because he heard about her meeting Burke, which is a beautiful indicator of how Carolyn thinks.

Well, you did share french fries with him and then he gave you a (silver filigreed) fountain pen, which isn’t how most social luncheons end.

Malloy points out that Joe was upset to learn of the meeting and Carolyn serves so much face.

Malloy points out Joe wasn’t even spying, but heard from a friend that Carolyn had driven off to Bangor. Joe’s innocence now proven, Carolyn moves to her next line of defense: persecution complex.

Absolutely what else would any sensible person think? That she just drove off to the city at the same time he was there and bumped into him at the exact same place where he was eating? And Carolyn asks that’s sincerely too, like she hopes she can benefit from plausible deniability.

Whatever Malloy really thinks, he tells Carolyn he doesn’t believe that.

In the immortal words of Squidward Tentacles: I can think of three good reasons.

So now Malloy wonders if Carolyn would like to get smashed with him and she has the audacity to look surprised.

Carolyn declares she’d better head home to Collinwood.

Carolyn offers to give Malloy a lift in her fucking badass car, but even Malloy’s newfound purpose has to wait for plot beats to present themselves, so he declines.

And, again, Carolyn assumes he’s talking about her.

Well, she didn’t lie about it, but she also didn’t tell anybody where she was going, or who her “date” was with, so…

But she did call Vicky, so after the fact, there were no secrets. Which is what matters, I guess.

And so Carolyn leaves and, as she goes, she gives Malloy this one, sad, lingering look…

And this is why I can’t ever hate Carolyn Stoddard, no matter how easy she makes it. Because Nancy Barrett pours such heart and soul into the character. Sure Carolyn lies and schemes and is generally a selfish and immature brat…

But she cares about some things and some people. She may not do the best job of showing it, but she does.

And then after another jarring cut, we’re back in Collinwood and Liz is carrying a tea tray.

She apparently is expecting somebody. Usually things like visits and dinners and lunches are telegraphed episodes in advance, but we’ve seen a lot of Liz on this on-screen day and the only person she’s seemed eager to meet is Ned Calder, who doesn’t seem ready to haul ass from wherever he is and present himself for an interview.

She is, obviously, harassing the operator about Ned Calder. This is just getting depressing at this point. Nothing comes of it and she hangs up.

A knock comes to the door…

…what?

So, John Harris is the Collins banker, because if there’s one thing we’ve been needing, it’s more dry discussion of people’s finances.

It has apparently been four years since Liz has seen her banker, which is quite remarkable for somebody in charge of a massive business and a sizable family fortune with multiple assets, including (apparently) real estate. I guess she handles the rest on the phone. She does like that phone.

But she invited Mr. Harris over to Collinwood this afternoon, so certainly there must be some.

Let me off this crazy thing.

So, Mr. Harris is played by a fellow called Patrick McVey and, in the spirit of so many other older gentlemen in suits who have come and gone on this screen over the past two months of storytelling, he is in for a rough ride. Which is good, because otherwise these scenes would be patently unwatchable.

Liz then declares that Mr. Harris doesn’t “look in the least like a stuffy old banker”, which proves that the best flattery is the kind where you say absolutely as little as possible to avoid giving away the show.

So automatically, we notice that Mr. Harris is having trouble both with the volume of his voice, and the structure of his lines.

That’s actually how he says it. Lot of weird pauses going on in there.

So it turns out that Liz’s call was out of nowhere and quite inexplicable, since Liz usually conducts all business over the phone or through other people which is what I guess you can expect for somebody who never leaves their house.

Harris supposes.

Liz claims she only invited Harris here to help set up a trust fund for her nephew. You know, the one Liz is protecting from an attempted murder charge.

Lela Swift is back in the director’s chair today after a long absence, and I can only suppose she did this close-up out of spite.

Harris wonders how business is going, and whether Malloy, who you will recall is the business manager, is giving Liz any trouble.

Harris likes Malloy, he says, but he’s nowhere near the business mind of that great old character Ned Calder, who managed the business for many years until a few months ago when Liz abruptly fired him.

The camera isn’t on Harris during any of this, which is probably for the best, but allow me to transcribe his lines here, as spoken, over Joan Bennett’s incredulous face.

What a nice brooch that is that Liz is wearing. But also, what the fuck? Normally, I’d be commenting how strange it is how a man who is at least an age contemporary of Liz and Malloy is acting like Malloy is a kid, but next to everything else in that line as delivered it’s kind of secondary.

So yeah this is all to bolster the Ned Calder story, which began right on the heels of the suppository story and has ever since taken the form of phone tag between Liz and Ned’s secretary or, more often, the telephone operator.

A brief spurt of life arrived in last Thursday’s episode when Ned himself got back to Liz and we learned who he was and what Liz wanted: him to return to the plant. Ned declined, though Liz urged him to think about it. We know from Malloy, who made his triumphant return in that same episode, that Liz dismissed him after 12 years of loyal service only a few months before our tale here began.

Harris elucidates and I can’t be sure if it’s Liz that’s pissed off at him, or Joan Bennett.

If you’re gonna fuck up that line, couldn’t you at do us a favor and say “Nedded need?”

We learn that Malloy was never supposed to do both his original job (charge of the fleet) and Ned’s job (charge of the cannery). Liz had intended Roger to take Ned’s responsibility, which finally gives us some idea of what he is supposed to do at the plant. It’s not quite confirmed either, but Ned’s dismissal (“a few months” ago) seems to roughly coincide with Roger and David coming to Collinwood, so there may have been more a motivating factor on Liz’s end for accepting her scandal-ridden wastrel brother back into the household than we initially thought.

Not that we get any confirmation on that, but there it is.

Also, if this feels like information we shouldn’t known long before this, congratulations! Welcome to the Dark Shadows Business Forum. You arrived just in time for this celebrated film star to hurl a china cup in someone’s face.

Liz’s hand actually shakes on the teacup.

Harris is a giant cock. He hasn’t even seen this woman in four years and now he has the audacity to give her condescending business advice, and he can’t even sound excited, competent, or mentally functioning as he does it.

He suggests that, without Ned at the helm again “Your whole fleet. Will sink.” And this is after he says “Malloy is no more a bideness man than I’m a fisherman” and he still has the cajones to use a fishing metaphor.

This isn’t even news at this point but, yes, Dark Shadows from the Beginning has the skinny on this and it’s gotta be among the best of the best.

So as this fuckin’ slob is wiping his nose and looking at the teleprompter and shitting his pants for all I know, he declares that NOT ONLY does Liz need someone to handle her business. She needs someone to HANDLE HER LIFE.

So I know we can’t expect anything even resembling feminism from either of these writers we’ve had to deal with, but Art Wallace never had the bald-faced audacity (living for that word today) to suggest Liz needed a MAN.

And this is where I break. For example, I don’t mind the revelation (which comes from Wallace’s bible) that Malloy used to be in love with Liz. Neither of them needed to be sexless characters and it gives Malloy much needed motivation and backstory.

But having this random guy show up and tell Liz that she needs a man is patently absurd, condescending and entirely unearned. Liz may have made many (many) questionable decisions, but none can argue that she is in command of her faculties, capable, cognizant, and not one to be trifled with.

Then Ned is also an asshole. Case closed. Also, are you beginning to understand why Liz fired Ned? Well…

Well, shit. I would’ve fired the guy too. Sure, I think he might have grounds to sue me, especially if I start nonstop calling him on the phone a few months later, but fuck outta here about “Liz needs a man to manage her life”.

I’m sorry, if my banker showed up and started lecturing me about how I should’ve married one of my employees before civilization collapsed around my ears, I’d fire him on the spot and open a Swiss bank account.

There seems to be a concentrated effort not to have the camera on Harris when he speaks, presumably because he’s having a really hard time and it’s easier to watch Joan Bennett attempt to contain herself. Still, this is what Harris says.

Then why don’t you marry him, huh?

This is so stupid. Why are we dealing with this? Malloy was talking a similar, less patrician line when this first came up in Episode 39, why didn’t he have this conversation with her? Why invent this pointless bank guy and then have half his scene be gossiping about Liz’s marriage prospects? Joan Bennett didn’t crawl her way out of career irrelevancy to be the talk-to in a story about how accomplished older women are worthless without unsatisfactory men at their side.

I’m your goddamn boss?

Okay. That too, I guess. From all I gathered, he’s a piece of shit too, but okay.

Whereas you only just emerged from the primordial ocean, huh, Sweaty?

Thank God, the phone rings. I should tell you, unless I’ve had a stroke (and I’ve watched this episode three times, so I don’t think I have), we’re still in Act 1. In most episodes, Act 1 ends between the 5 and 6^th minute mark, sometimes 7^th. It’s 8 ½ minutes in, and I am convinced this is all because of Patrick McVey’s awkward pauses.

If I were Joan Bennett, I would’ve gone up to Dan Curtis after this and ripped him a new one.

Cue sexy saxophone music. Look, I get Liz never leaves her house, so she doesn’t “run” the business herself and, since Ned worked the place for 12 years, there was never a time in his tenure when she would’ve left the house, but it’s just really sad to see a dignified and accomplished actress playing a dignified and accomplished woman getting so desperate for some random ass man to come and manage her tuna factory.

Did this asshole try to leverage his coming back if she married him? Christ on a bike.

You know, that’s all I need to know. This man is a piece of shit and Elizabeth Collins-Stoddard doesn’t need him, nor do we the audience need this story. Bye bye, I’m done. Falla finita.

Honey, we’re lucky that he never will and never does.

Girl power! Amirite?

If it’s any consolation, this never goes anywhere. Mind, there are probably a few good ways to tell this story, but Ned Calder sounds like a complete piece of shit and we’re probably better off without him around.

So Act 2 finally begins and the shambling bag of bones that is Mr. Harris is attempting to do Finances.

Perhaps he’ll start spelling Liz’s name for her. I’m not sure she can do that without Ned Calder’s Grace and Beauty running her life.

Liz wants to make sure that nobody will be able to touch David’s trust fund because we know that’s the very first thing Roger will try to do and, to some extent, who can blame him? The kid tried to kill him not two days ago.

Oh good, I’m very glad the wealthy sociopath will never want for anything. I’m certainly not rooting for the financial ruin of this family.

Okay, that’s a little uncharitable. I like David, warts and all, or warts especially, it’s just I find it disingenuous when soap characters talk about money. Unless you’re going to go whole hog on the wasteful, grotesque excess of their lives (i.e. every episode of Dynasty) it comes off as self-indulgent, detached and dull.

So while I can’t say I’m rooting for Burke to destroy the Collinses, I also can’t say I’m in a great hurry to see them hold onto their money because they don’t even have the decency to be gross about being rich. I mean, I guess Roger must’ve been, since he blew his inheritance, but that’s just something we were told about secondhand, so…

When asked if the trust fund will go on in perpetuity, which is a great word to use on your daytime drama airing in the timeslot when the kids are just home from school, Harris informs us:

You heard it here first, folks. Abolish the U.S. dollar and destroy this man’s miserable life.

Harris wants to warn her…

Liz jokes whether she’ll have to make sure the lights are running, and then this dude stares into the camera and laughs at us for putting up with this shit.

We get to something resembling a plot point, divorced from the Ned Calder stuff that is, when Harris points out the Collinses don’t have very many liquid assets. There isn’t much extra cash they can fall back on.

So that’s why Liz and Roger had that otherwise out of nowhere conversation about their inheritance a few episodes ago! How subtle.

Sure…but maybe not by Liz. Finally, we seem to be reaching a head with Burke’s little plan of corporate dominance. We saw in his meeting with Mr. Blair, who did a much better job than this by the way, that Burke’s plan involves buying up the Collins debts. Apparently, Liz hasn’t yet considered the possibility a predatory investor may be plotting just this, so it’s a darn good thing we have a man of Mr. Harris’s stature to explain this to us.

Oh for the love of God.

So the demand notes can be called up at any time (for example by, oh, Mr. Blair), even though Liz keeps paying the interest on them. I don’t know enough about economics to suppose if this is true, but it’s so dull that it must be.

Harris then points out there’s no reason for anybody to buy up those notes “unless somebody wanted to take over your company.”

As a matter of fact, the oblivious Harris casually points out that he had to tell an inquiring potential investor only a few days ago that the notes were not, in fact, for sale.

You’d think this son of a bitch would’ve called to tell her this. Wouldn’t that have been a better excuse for him to be here than the trust fund or whatever the hell? Harris seems to think some mystery guy calling him to ask about buying his client’s company is entirely run of the mill mundanity not worthy of comment.

Harris promises to find out more about the “New York syndicate” behind the inquiry and, thank Christ, Carolyn returns.

He of the stiff collar.

Leave it to Carolyn to half flirt with this guy too.

Harris notes that it’s “grown considerably since then”, which tells me that Carolyn hasn’t been to the bank since she was a child or else she would surely know this.

I want to believe the vindictive look on Joan Bennett’s face is relief that she doesn’t have to do this alone anymore.

Liz pulls Carolyn aside to quiz her about her horrible decision making skills. Again.

Carolyn is made to confirm that she was lunching with Burke.

He fuckin’ sucks.

Well, depending on how far it went…

Carolyn goes off, mentioning also Malloy’s condemntations, which catches Liz’s attention given she’s been trying to get in touch with him all day. She’s had more conversations with Ned Calder at this point. Liz is especially shocked to learn Malloy is getting plastered.

Speak of the devil…

Malloy appears to have sobered up in record time and immediately gets about his business.

To ensure her privacy with Malloy, Liz sends Carolyn in to keep Harris busy. I hope she can stay awake.

Malloy’s news, however, promises to be very different.

We’ve waited a long damn time for this, haven’t we?

Inspiring words for a grown ass man.

Is Ned Calder Francis Swann’s fucking self-insert? When does he pull the sword from the stone?

Liz mentions she asked Ned to come back, which is yet another of Francis Swann’s continuity errors, because Ned first called Liz back in Episode 39, while Malloy was in the room. They spoke about this very thing and Malloy did seem complimentary of Ned, but not to the point where it seemed embarrassing.

Regardless, Malloy would welcome Ned’s return.

The reveal that Malloy wasn’t so much given Ned’s job as he had to babysit Roger who was makes their animosity very different, including the on-the-nose resentment Roger showed him in his debut episode back in the first week. Like, where does he even get off?

But in the words of Squidward Tentacles…

Discussion of Ned segues into discussion of Malloy’s stubbornness. Malloy insists he’s stubborn only in the service of “what’s for the best”.

Knowing what Malloy’s mission is and what he’s here to do makes me naturally sympathetic toward him, but this is so quickly becoming the “let’s all mansplain to Joan Bennett” half hour revue, so part of me does want to see Liz put him in his place at least for a little.

But Malloy is spitting straight fire.

Could this be a small acknowledgment that he knows the truth about Roger’s “accident”? He was the only other person the Consteriff confided in about it before Liz, indeed, “swept it under the cahpet”.  Malloy claimed not to believe Carter’s theory at the time, but it’s possible he’s changed his mind in the intervening day, especially with these new revelations.

But, again, it’s important we act like none of that stuff ever happened.

Malloy begins by bringing up Burke Devlin.

And again Liz takes this frosty, distant demeanor, just like she did when Burke first came to Collinwood way back then. We again get the impression that she knows exactly what happened, just how guilty her brother really is, and is protecting him in the same way she protected David.

It really is a poetic bit of irony, given Roger’s anger at the injustice of Liz “pardoning” David, if he benefited from the same grace.

Malloy goes on, talking about Sam and the portrait commission.

I dunno, he seems to have the requisite amount of narcissism and flamboyance.

Joan Bennett makes up for an entire episode of suffering Harris’s nervous attack, looking dead straight ahead and speaking in a controlled, cold, powerful voice.

It is, of course, and Liz knows this. But she clearly doesn’t want to say so and flatly denies ever suspecting it.

Well, the way you’re looking away from the guy questioning you and speaking with cold dispassion does suggest a definite maybe.

There’s this beautiful quiver in her voice as she says that, like she almost loses her composure, and it’s all her dignity can take to place the blame on the jury, washing her own hands of any complicity. Mind, it doesn’t seem Liz was an active collaborator in the cover-up the way Sam was, but she knows Roger very well. It seems ridiculous to assume she never put two and two together.

But before Malloy can spill the tea, we get to pivot to Carolyn and Harris playing Schoolhouse Rock.

She has looked into the future and seen the DOW Jones.

David isn’t the only pernicious troll in this family. But who can blame Carolyn for taking personal pleasure in the possibility of this idiot losing his job? You can see him looking at the teleprompter right there.

Well, since we seem to have exhausted the only topic this guy’s suited for, I guess we can go back to Liz and Malloy any…

Silly of me.

Harris does know Burke, perhaps from all the times Burke wakes up in the night and sees a figure standing over his bed, shrouded in darkness.

Then Carolyn announces she’s trembling with Burke Devlin induced estrus, which is just the thing you want your banker to know.

There is a reason for this conversation to be happening, by the way. That doesn’t mean the conversation itself isn’t inelegant and contrived.

Harris, you see, knows about Burke’s business dealings from his work.

Yes, yes, that’s where the teleprompter is, you son of a bitch. This has to be the worst performance in the history of daytime television.

Carolyn notes that Burke is quite “nice” (hm?) in spite of his money.

I think I’d appreciate the lecture on privilege more if it wasn’t being delivered by a man whose cooked in his own juices telling a business owner her problems would be fixed if she had a man in her life.

This demonstrates perfectly exactly where the teleprompter is. The only other episodes where this is so clear are the ones when it accidentally ends up in the shot. Like, he is isn’t even bothering to look Carolyn’s way.

Harris, still claiming to speak “from a financial point of view” supposes that because Burke started with nothing, he’ll never stop grasping for more, which seems more like a psychological statement, but it’s not like he’s qualified in either of those things anyway.

Harris muses that he wishes he could handle Burke’s account.

At which point Carolyn names Mr. Blair and, just like that, the character of John Harris has a reason to exist.

Harris springs to attention, recognizing the name at once.

I think he’s having a stroke.

This man is a piece of shit.

So it turns out that it was Blair who called Harris asking about the Collins notes. Blair himself mentions speaking with “Mr. Harris” back in Tuesday’s Episode if you were eager for other occurrences of this character’s existence. I wonder if Harris brined himself speaking with him too.

Elsewhere, Malloy isn’t quite presenting the new evidence to Liz, if only because he doesn’t have it yet and, again, as sympathetic as I am to Malloy, this really has been a day for Liz and bullshit.

Then why even come up here? Guilt? To see how Liz would react? It’s probably that one, but it could as easily be the same reason Sam came to Collinwood and left without saying anything: killing time and giving Liz something suspicious to think about. At least Malloy was more fortright about his purpose.

See? I went back to purposes.

Liz suggests it won’t matter if Burke is proved not guilty.

Which is…true. Malloy argues it’s about dignity, though as he and Liz both diagnosed earlier…it’s really about revenge, and Liz has come quite close to diagnosing the very problem with revenge itself: its emptiness. For no matter what Burke does, what he achieves, what he destroys…he cannot erase the wrong done to him 10 years ago.

And, like Harris said, he will keep grasping and grasping, never satisfied, because he can’t be.

Liz begins telling Malloy she won’t sacrifice Roger for Burke’s sake, which is fairly impressive given how much contempt she has for him. Before this can go on, though, Harris rushes in with urgent news and a lot of sweat.

He knows his time is almost up, so he’s starting to wind down.

Harris explains who Blair is and how he spoke to him about buying the debts. Because he’s Harris, however, this takes a very long time.

Malloy loses his shit, though I guess he must be pretty vindicated because he saw this shit coming from Episode 21.

I like that Malloy’s stance has morphed from “We’ll give the bastard no ground” to “We just negotiate with the terrorist.”

Malloy fumes that, even now, Liz won’t commit to giving Roger up.

Well shit. Malloy means business and he determines to save the Collinses, even at the expense of a woman’s love a love that, indeed, was likely never requited and which Liz never knew he bore for her.

What a delightful, saucy turn. We could’ve used more of this, but I’m glad we’re getting it now and also that Mr. Harris is gone, he was frightening me.

We wrap up with Malloy back at the Blue Whale because that’s where the payphone is. But there’s one at the diner too. Whatever.

Isn’t it a beautiful thing to watch a show where things happen?

This Day in History- Thursday, August 25, 1966

The U.S. House votes overwhelmingly to reject President Johnson’s request to activate 133,000 military reserve forces for the Vietnam War. The Senate approved the plan, but the House was like “go fuck yourself.” Nowadays, we have the reverse, unless we can KEEP THE HOUSE AND TAKE THE SENATE but I digress.

China’s Glorious Revolution continues as the Red Guards strip all Buddhist iconography from Lhasa, the Tibetan capital, including forcing all lamas to “confess” their crimes against the Revolution. This is briefly touched on as a part of Special Agent Dale Cooper’s motive in Twin Peaks which, also borrows a lot from Dark Shadows, intentionally or otherwise.

Riots in Djibouti, the capital of French Somaliland, the nation’s last colony. A referendum on independence would be announced in September and would occur in March.

Born this day is American attorney and current convicted felon Michael Cohen, who you will recognize as one of the many white collar criminals employed by the current President of the United States.

You Know This Guy From That Thing!

When he wasn’t dying on screen on Dark Shadows, Patrick McVey was, like so many before him, a very accomplished character actor. As a matter of fact, his resume is so impressive I almost feel bad judging him by how absolutely terrible everything he did in this episode was.

Even so.

Born March 17^th, 1910 (his 110 birthday isn’t far off), McVey made a name for himself in Westerns throughout the ‘40s and ‘50s. He has numerous uncredited film roles in the early ‘40s, branching into supporting roles in films like Swell Guy and Dark Passage (which, interestingly, is similar in title to Dark Passages, a novel written by Kathryn Leigh Scott about a vampire on the set of a daytime soap opera…).

His first television role was 1950’s Suspense, an anthology wherein he played two roles in as many episodes. His first recurring role was as Steve Wilson in the 1950 – 1954 Western series Big Town.

Like many other Dark Shadows supporters, McVey had roles on the Kraft Theater anthology, as well as Matinee Theater and The 20^th Century Fox Hour. By 1957, he had scored another recurring role in a Western Series: Boots and Saddles, as Lt. Col. Wesley Hayes, which sounds much more respectable than anything he’s done on Dark Shadows, which tells you that he was quite capable.

He has a one episode appearance in 77 Sunset Strip  and Wanted: Dead or Alive in 1959, and played Sergeant Flamm in Alfred Hitchcock’s North by Northwest. He is the only member of the Dark Shadows cast to ever be directed by the “great” (er…) director.

The early ‘60s brought roles on The Rifleman, Cheyenne and Manhunt. He scored one episode on The Lucy Show, Lucille Ball’s considerably less notable follow-up to that other thing she did in the previous decade. He also did one episode each on Gunsmoke and Bonanza, the biggest Western series of the ‘60s.

There were also (I wasn’t kidding, this is a lot) roles on The Fugitive, The Alfred Hitchcock Hour, Hazel (the worst television show of the entire decade, I don’t want to hear it), and Perry Mason. By Dark Shadows, McVey had been typecast as sheriffs, policemen and other various lawmen, which you might’ve noticed comes up quite a bit with the guys we cover here.

If Dark Shadows from the Beginning is to be believed, McVey was a golfing buddy of Dan Curtis’s and that’s why he came on as John Harris. It’s unclear if the role was originally meant to be recurring in the way of Bronson Who Became Blair. Would’ve made sense, when you think about it, to give the Collins a counterpart to Burke’s guy. Whatever.

McVey had an impressive career after Dark Shadows, so we can thank the fact that nobody was watching the show in late August ’66 for that. He had a supporting role on medical soap The Doctors, his second soap opera credit after DS. Nancy Barrett also landed here after Dark Shadows, but I don’t think they ever interacted. It would’ve been nice if they had, though, so she could’ve asked him what bankruptcy was like.

McVey passed away a year later in 1973 at the age of 63. I apologize to him only insomuch that I recognize Dark Shadows was simply the worst moment of an otherwise illustrious career.