Going to Bangor

Noted rockish/grungish/folkish/you-should-really-check-out-this band The Mountain Goats has a cycle of songs that begin with the phrase “Going to”. There’s “Going to Georgia”, “Going to Kansas”, “Going to Chino”, “Going to Federal Prison”, “Going to Hell”, “Going to Lebanon”, “Going to Lebanon 2”, “Going to Some Damned English City”…

And then there’s “Going to Bangor”.

And today, on Dark Shadows, we’re going there too.

I should note “Going to Bangor” is only two verses and far from the best Mountain Goats song, but I’ve had this title stuck in my head for months. Live with it.

In “Going to Bangor”, the singer reflects on cold ocean wind and sinking ships, conjuring images of the barren, yet beautiful Maine coatline. There is also a mention of cranberries because that’s Maine. There isn’t much of a narrative. Some person, probably a women, with “fresh cranberries in [her] mouth/With thick red water dripping out” expects the singer “to believe everything [she] say[s]”, to which the singer replies “Well okay”.

That’s the song.

In this episode, Victoria Winters has, indeed, gone to Bangor, primarily because she doesn’t believe everything she’s told: namely, about her origins and a possible connection between her and the town of Collinsport. On a flimsy lead, she’s gone to the city with Burke Devlin to pay a visit at the law firm of Garner & Garner, Elizabeth Collins-Stoddard’s attorneys, and learn something about a mysterious name on a ledger sheet that may just be a connection to a family she’s never known.

This is our third time in the city of Bangor, the first time without any random Burke Devlin business associates, and the only episode in the series run to have no scenes in Collinsport whatsoever.

In many ways it feels like we’re watching a completely different show entirely, opening with a particularly done-up Victoria Winters sitting patiently outside Mr. Garner’s office.

This episode introduces new pieces, new elements, and a decidedly new dynamic that will have lasting impressions on the canvas back in Collinsport, even if they may not be what Francis Swann (and even Art Wallace, who had come up with this Bangor sojourn in his series bible) originally intended.

We’re introduced to Mr. Richard Garner, played by yet another in Dark Shadows’s seemingly inexhaustible well of noted character actors: Hugh Franklin. Unlike the last noted character actor they trotted out for us, he’s actually got some mileage in him.

I get Vicky is very desperate by this point, but this isn’t the best way to convince people you’re a rational, sane person pursuing a logical objective.

Mr. Garner immediately sets about apologizing for giving a “false impression”, clarifying he knows who she is because Elizabeth hired her and for no other reason.

Well, that’s a promising beginning.

Hugh Franklin has a certain charisma to him that makes the following info dump considerably more palatable.

Which is such lawyerly dialogue. Because if there’s anybody in Collinsport who does know something about Victoria, it’s got to be Mrs. Stoddard. He leans into it, too, which is even better.

At this point, it’s less a ‘feeling’ and more a series of rapid fire concussions, but at least Vicky isn’t oblivious.

In a somewhat promising sign for this narrative’s progress, we aren’t five minutes into the episode when Vicky cuts the chase, producing the ledger which she gives to Garner. She indicates the name “B. Hanscom” and wonders if Garner knows anything about her, at which point Garner says he has no idea who Betty Hansom is, but…

This brings us back to the subject, revived in recent weeks, presumably for just this purpose, of the bygone days when Collinwood had many servants. There is now a definite connection between Victoria, Betty Hanscom, “B. Hanscom” the butler, and Collinwood. For the first time, a through line is emerging.

I am obliged, again, to repeat that it’s taken us four months to get to this point.

Garner can’t remember what Hanscom’s first name was, but supposes it must’ve begun with a B. This is more of the kind of constipated dodginess we got on the subject of Betty Hanscom back in Episode 60. I can’t conceive of any reason for them to not disclose what Hanscom’s first name was. It’s already clear he is a distinct person from Betty, whatever relation they may have had, the initial ‘B’ has already worn out its use as a red herring to draw a connection to Betty. Was Swann afraid to commit to something for fear of forgetting his own scripts again?

Hanscom decides the ledger must be a “monthly wage list” for the very large staff, bringing the subject of conversation to Collinwood’s lost glory days.

“Gay” was still a ways off from being used to describe my people. Still, it’s hard to believe a 20-year-old in 1966 would casually employ the word as a noun. But if I threw a fit every time somebody on this show used language they probably shouldn’t be, I’d have checked out at Vicky’s third “I beg your pardon”.

Vicky recalls that the staff all stopped working at Collinwood around the same time Paul Stoddard disappeared, and Garner clams up considerably.

His evasion, coupled with the coyness of his earlier speech, again raises new questions. Might he know something about Paul’s 18-year vanishing act? Has Liz sworn him to secrecy? If he’s in on that, might he know more than he’s telling about Victoria’s past?

Hard to reconcile the Elizabeth who steadfastly resists losing her plant workers to automation with the one who cost dozens of people job security because her deadbeat baby daddy ditched her, but since she’s currently sweating in hysterics at the notion of someone finally breaking up her sardine monopoly, maybe she’s not as progressive as she wants us to think.

Vicky asks the next most reasonable question: if any of the other employees on the list might know anything about B. Hanscom, but don’t worry, Garner is here to piss on that parade too.

Well, that’s convenient. It’s remarkable how every lead Vicky finds ends up almost immediately confounded or contradicted. You might think this was a thematic choice and we’re supposed to read some meaning out of it, but I honestly think the only meaning to be found is the writer is terrified of having to actually make a commitment. See also: the still-ongoing mystery of Malloy’s death, rapidly closing in on its 50^th episode.

Vicky, clutching at straws, wonders whether the “other half of Garner & Garner” might know anything about this. Garner seems to find this notion funny as he buzzes his partner into the office, and we quickly see why…

Here we are at last.

LET’S FUCKING GOOOOOOO

Frank Garner is played by the venerable Conard Fowkes, who would go on to have the most sterling daytime career of anybody ever on Dark Shadows. This was his first soap, but he’d go on to be in many more.

And, while Fowkes is attractive and somewhat charismatic, Frank just er…doesn’t click with those Dark Shadows fans brave enough to weather the pre-Barnabas era.

Maybe it’s the newsboy attitude with which he smiles as he gamesomely shakes Vicky’s hand. Maybe it’s the way he immediately starts flirting with her. Maybe it’s the fact that his introduction is so slapdash, an earthworm could tell what they’re trying to do with him.

Vicky wonders why, since Frank is Richard’s relatively young son, the paper she found from close to 20 years ago still had “Garner & Garner” on it. Richard explains that, at that time, his partner was his brother who died five years ago. And, again, I think the only reason for that was so we could have a little surprise thrill when Richard’s partner turned out to be a young boat shoe stud for our girl to while away the hours with.

Frank at once signals that he’s willing to help Vicky in any way possible. His father, perhaps seeing this, immediately excuses himself so he can go to “court”, clearing the path for Frank to court Vicky.

See what I did there?

Vicky will get to tell him all about that, but of course it’s nothing we haven’t already heard a hundred thousand times, so let me use this as an opportunity to point out what Frank is quite obviously supposed to be, and why that isn’t working.

Frank is positioned right off the bat as the “Nice Guy” option for Vicky. Essentially, her version of Carolyn’s Joe Haskell, in opposition to the same “Bad Guy”: Burke Devlin. He’s clean-cut, closer to her in age, has a respectable job, and doesn’t appear to have any destructive vendettas.

The problem is…he’s no Joe Haskell. From the minute we meet him (which was approximately two minutes ago), he’s already flirting with Vicky. Now he scoots his chair closer to her to listen with bated breath as she tells him the story of her quest. He makes it clear in this, their very first meeting, that he wants to help her. The entire thing is forced and clumsy, immediately putting Fowkes at a disadvantage with one of Swann’s trademark clunky scripts.

Compare this (and, hell, also the introduction of Amos Fitch last week), with the exquisitely skillful introduction of Mrs. Johnson, also handled by Swann. With Fitch and Frank, it seems like there was a rush to get across exactly what the character was about without taking any time to communicate anything naturally. Frank’s instant liking for Victoria and desire to help her seems less “nice” and more creepy, whereas we were given time to understand the fraught dynamic between Carolyn and Joe, and the greater complications brought on by Burke.

Connected to that, it’s very unusual for the “Nice Guy” archetype to be introduced after the Bad Guy, which is another disadvantage this writing isn’t helping at all.

Woe to whatever paralegal this guy sends down to the archives.

It’s also unclear what they intend to find combing 20 years of legal documents. Hanscom’s first name? Place of residence? It can’t be the second thing, because Garner Sr. already claimed not to have kept track of any former Collinwood staff. Regardless, Frank is eager to simp for Victoria Winters and she isn’t about to tell him not to. He claims they may find the last ledger ever made out to Hanscom, which might have an address on it.

That’s where we are. You may have noticed that each new clue is decidedly more boring than the one that came before. At least the painting of the Victoria clone had some mystique to it. We’re down to combing financial documents for mailing information.

I think we’re supposed to believe that this guy laying aside his Big Boy Lawyer responsibilities for a girl he just met is romantic, but for whatever reasons, my juices refuse to flow.

We open Act III at the restaurant of the Bangor Pine hotel, where Burke and Vicky are staying…er…in separate rooms, of course. We last saw the set exactly 50 episodes ago when Carolyn and Burke shared those infamous French fries and he rewarded her with the as-infamous sterling silver filigreed fountain pen.

Can’t tell if this is more or less embarrassing than the French fries thing.

Burke soon arrives at the table from whatever business thing he set out to do in Bangor to begin with and he wastes no time flirting with her.

Well…at least he’s charming, in his way.

Burke immediately guesses Vicky hasn’t had any luck in her search. Vicky wonders how he can tell and Burke tells her…

In retrospect, I guess it’s impressive we clocked more than 90 episodes before they broke out that cliché.

The kicker here is that Victoria Winters is currently getting the full romance heroine treatment. She’s gone on vacation (to Bangor, sure, but after Collinwood, it must seem like Bora Bora) with a tall, dark, handsome stranger and there’s another guy already tripping over himself to do favors for her.

And she’s over it. She just wants to get to the bottom of the Billing Statement Mystery and go home.

And I think that’s neat.

Yeah, it’s called writers’ apathy.

There were multiple earlier instances where she could’ve and should’ve asked this question. I mean, she must’ve trusted him sufficiently to get into his car for a 50 mile road trip to a city she’d never been to, but it’s entirely possible she was too intimidated to just bow out.

Vicky reminds him of the threatening language he made in the car last night which, again, isn’t even the worst language she’s ever heard him use. Regardless, Burke maintains he was only trying to warn Vicky about leaving Collinwood before some nebulous danger came and destroyed everybody.

Yes, they’ve had this conversation multiple times before. The only difference this time is there’s romantic ambient music and I’m pretty sure this is some kind of date.

It’s not that hard. He has a thing for younger women and even more of a thing for intimidating people. This is somewhat softened by the fact that he’s actually very bad at doing anything dangerous, which to this point is his most redeeming quality.

Burke counters that he doesn’t understand Vicky himself. And I know this is probably meant to be some cute wordplay on Swann’s part, but it underscores the biggest problem with these two: they’re incompatible. And not in the quintessential “opposite attracts” way that has characterized the romance genre since Eros and Psyche. They just seem…disparate from each other. There’s no spark, no common goal, not even an animosity that can turn to passion. This is even more jarring after the surprisingly heated Carolyn and Burke scenes in Episode 86. Vicky and Burke are supposed to be the central romance of the show and…

There’s just nothing there. The two actors are perfectly charismatic on their own, but together it’s…eh.

Burke turns down a drink for a grilled cheese. Is this supposed to be romantic, or is he just worried about getting drunk in front of her? Either way, my juices are beginning to ferment.

Burke tells Vicky he intends to return to Collinsport tonight, and would be glad to give Vicky a lift if needed. He then tells her what she reminds him of…

Forget fermented. My juices have crystalized like expired battery acid.

But don’t worry about this travesty of a sham romance. Frank Garner is here to remind us that it can always be worse.

It comes out after Burke takes off that Richard Garner was Roger’s attorney in the manslaughter case ten years ago, giving Burke a built-in grievance in the love triangle Francis Swann has decided this show needs. Mind you, there already is a love triangle with Carolyn, Joe and Maggie, but he wouldn’t be the first soap writer to rely on the same trick over and over, often at the same time.

Before Burke goes, however, he informs Vicky he’ll come collect her when he wraps up his business and gives Frank one of his patented Devlin zingers:

I know we haven’t known him for very long, but if there’s anything we can infer about Frank Garner, it’s that he loves grilled cheese sandwiches.

This might be contrasted by Burke at least asking if he could sit across the table from Vicky. Frank is being familiar right away, which is another blow to this “Nice Guy” veneer. I can’t imagine Joe ever doing something so presumptuous. He’d need three episodes of self-loathing and at least one drunken binge.

When Frank learns that Burke has made quite a fortune since getting out of prison, he declares he’s envious, to Vicky’s disbelief.

She really doesn’t though.

Vicky tells him it doesn’t show, which demonstrates a clear Level Up in her Lying stat.

These distinctions from Burke, that Devlin is self-made while Frank inherited his money, appear to be yet another set of traits designed for the impending War for Vicky’s Virginity. As with everything else about Frank’s introduction, however, this is mishandled. We’re supposed to sympathize with him because he…resents…being…rich? Fuck outta here with that.

The waiter comes along with the grilled cheese sandwiches, apparently oblivious to the fact that Vicky’s male friend has gotten roughly 10 years younger and 20 years less mature.

The juices have turned into nitric oxide. This is not a drill. Grab a gas mask.

The scene ends with Vicky asking if he’s found anything out yet, which he hasn’t, probably because he already cleared his whole schedule so he could have grilled cheese with her as opposed to doing any actual work.

Which almost makes me think we’re not supposed to like Frank and are supposed to believe he isn’t serious about helping Vicky out. Like maybe there is a conspiracy against her, and it does reach out from Collinsport.

This theory isn’t entirely false, either, as the episode ends back at the law office, where Richard Garner is making a phone call…

Garner wastes no time telling his boss about Vicky’s visit this morning, putting paid the theory that he isn’t as nonpartial as he claims…and that he has no problem being Mrs. Stoddard’s consigliere.

I think this would feel more shocking if I’d had any faith in their ability to resolve the Billing Statement Mystery in the first place. At least this means they’ll never have to.

This Day in History- Tuesday, November 1, 1966

The National Football League awards a football franchise to New Orleans, Louisiana, to be called the New Orleans Saints. See, they…they announced it on All Saints’ Day. Isn’t that clever of them.

Italian-American immigrant Candido Jacuzzi is granted a patent for his “Hydrotherapy Tub”, which he designed to help ease his son’s arthritis. Today, the jacuzzi is used by aging bachelors attempting to impress much younger women.

An investigation is opened into the suspicious actions of New Jersey physician Dr. Mario Jascalevich, following the discovery of 18 empty bottles of the poison curare in his medical locker. Connection was drawn to the mysterious deaths of nine of Jascalevich’s patients after minor surgery over the last 11 months. Jascalevich claimed the curare was used in “personal experiments on dogs”, which I guess he thought made him sound better. He would continue to practice for ten years before finally being indicted for five new murders in what would be sensationalized as the “Dr. X killings”. Still, he was acquitted of even those crimes in 1978. The case remains unsolved.

See, now that’s spooky.