Original subtitles

♪ Green Acres is the place to be

♪ Farm livin' is the life for me

♪ Land spreading out so far and wide

♪ Keep Manhattan, just give me that countryside.

♪ New York is where I'd rather stay

♪ I get allergic smelling hay

♪ I just adore a penthouse view

♪ Darling, I love you, but give me Park Avenue

♪ The chores ♪ The stores ♪ Fresh air

♪ Times Square ♪ You are my wife

♪ Goodbye city life

♪ Green Acres, we are there

- Hello there, Mr. Drucker.

- Oh, good morning Mrs. Douglas.

- Hi. - Mr. Douglas.

I'll be right with you.

- Yes, we just came over to pick up...

- I've been workin' all morning,

inflationizing the prices on my canned goods.

- Inflationizing?

- Yeah.

I read somewhere that the cost of living

had gone up 5%.

So I thought I'd get in on it.

- Mr. Drucker, did our mail come in yet?

- Yes, sir, but there's nothing interesting.

You got a bill from the same fella

that sent you one last month.

Guess you didn't pay it, huh?

- Well, Mr. Drucker I...

- Oh, there's a letter from London, England, Mrs. Douglas.

From your mother.

The last letter you got from her was from Paris.

Hm, guess she didn't like it there.

- No, no.

She got into a fight with the hotel manager.

- Yeah, she wanted her to pay the bill.

- Well, that's a fine thing to say for someone

who got a bill from a fellow this month

that he didn't pay last month.

- What bill? - Here it is, Mr. Douglas.

- That's not a bill, it's a credit for $3.

- For what?

- I returned the diamond cuff links

your mother gave me for my birthday.

- It isn't the gift, it's the thought.

- Doesn't take much thought

to give somebody a $3 pair of cuff links.

- Oh, here's your letter, Mrs. Douglas.

- Well, look at this, Mr. Mother Knocker.

Mama sent me a check for $50,000.

- 50,000?

- It's all made up.

All you have to do is sign it.

- Aw, that old.

Is there anymore mail for us, Mr. Drucker?

- No, sir, just for Eb.

- Well, we'll take it along for him.

- Well, here it is.

480 letters.

- Would you mind explaining what this is all about?

- Didn't you see my ad?

- What ad?

- The one I had in the lonely hearts section

of Playmate magazine.

- What did you put in the ad, Eb?

- Oh here, I'll read it to ya.

Handsome, sophisticated, wealthy landowner,

looking for wealthy mate.

Address all applications to Eb Dawson,

wealthy landowner, Hooterville.

- Wealthy landowner?

- Well, I will be.

You're gonna leave the farm to me aren't ya, Dad?

- I am not your dad, and I'm not leaving the farm to you.

- Well, you might as well.

I don't want it.

- Eb, you should be ashamed of yourself.

Trying to hook some poor, trusting girl with a pack of lies.

- I guess all people tell a few white lies

when they're jockeying for marital position.

- White lies are all right, but that ad.

Now look, why don't you take all this mail

and dump it into the stove and burn it?

- Burn it?

Do you realize that somewhere in these envelopes

there may be the future Mrs. Eb Dawson.

- May the lord have mercy on her soul.

Look Eb, you're supposed to help fix the tractor.

- I'll be right out as soon as I finish opening my mail.

- Well I'm not gonna...

- Eb got a lot of interesting letters.

- Yeah.

- Listen to this one.

Dear Squire Dawson,

I have five children, I'm considered good-looking.

I would be interested in marrying you,

if you would send me money for a divorce.

Signed Sarah Maxwell.

- Put Sarah with the rejects.

- Look, Eb, we've got the...

- Aw, Li, listen to this.

Dear Mr. Dawson,

this is the first time I've ever answered an ad like yours.

But I happened to pick up a copy

of Playmate Magazine in the Paris airport

while I was waiting for my father's plane

to pick me up to take me to Rome.

- What kind of dribble...

- Your ad intrigued me,

and I thought it might be amusing

to start a correspondence.

Please write and tell me more about yourself.

Very truly yours, Miss Celia Ward.

Plaza Towers, Park Avenue, Penthouse B.

- That's about the swankest place on Park Avenue.

- Boy, she has sexy handwriting.

And she included her measurements.

72, 23, 31.

- 72?

- Oh, that's her zip code.

- Oh, thank goodness.

- Well, it looks like you'll find yourself a nice girl.

- Let's go out and fix the tractor.

- Not until I've answered Celia's letter.

Dear Miss Ward, I received your wife application.

You write a neat letter,

and you sure have a nifty zip code.

Since you want to know more about me, I will tell you.

Besides being tall and handsome and a wealthy landowner,

my hobbies are collecting money, racing my sports cars,

and playing polo on alternate Sundays.

But most of my time is spent overseeing my huge estate

with its thousands of acres of my various enterprises.

I would like to know more about you.

Your's truly, the honorable Eb Dawson.

- Dear Mr. Dawson.

Compared to your life, mine is rather boring.

I spend evenings at cocktail parties

or at the theater seeing a new play.

I usually spend weekends at our home in Southampton,

which is where my father keeps his yacht.

I am not too interested in polo.

But your estate sounds fabulous.

Please tell me more about it.

Your friend, Celia.

Dear friend Celia.

When I received your letter saying that you

didn't like polo, I sold all my ponies.

Life here in Hooterville

is one gay adventure after the other.

That's why when my old school pal, Lord Sonny Bodkins

called me to fly over to London

for the weekend, I turned him down.

Yesterday I... - Eb.

- Excuse the slip.

My chauffeur just hit a bump.

- Eb, you're supposed to be splitting this wood.

- Ooh, I'm waiting til I grow a beard

so as I can do an imitation of Abraham Lincoln.

- Just chop the wood.

- Yes, sir.

I'll have to close now as I'm having

a little labor trouble with one of my underlings.

Fondly, Eb.

Dear Eb, I received your seventh letter today.

And to think, since I last heard from you

you've been to Brussels, Paris, and Hong Kong.

I was sorry to hear...

- That your horse was disqualified in the Kentucky Derby.

- Mm-hm.

And why was that, may I ask?

- Because the judges smelled mint julep on his breath.

- Oh brother, I never heard such junk in my,

Eb, how could you possibly write her such lies?

- They're not lies.

I just exaggerated a few facts

to brighten up this poor creature's boring life.

- Boring?

- Well, you heard some of the stuff she wrote Eb,

that she has nothing to do but to go to Southampton

and ride around on her father's yacht.

And you know how boring that can be.

- Oh yes, yes.

- You sound like you don't believe her.

- Believe her?

She's as phony as you are.

- Nobody is as phony as I am.

No, I didn't mean it to come out that way.

- Why don't you write to her, ask if you could

spend a weekend at her penthouse or on her yacht?

See what she says.

- I would, but I can't run off

and leave my vast holdings unattended.

- Oh you.

Eb, I don't know whose tall tales are worse, yours or hers.

- Well, what difference does it make?

In Hungary we have a saying.

A man who tells the truth to the girl he loves

is going to end up lying to his wife.

- Hello, Mr. Douglas.

- Oh, how are you, Mr. Kimball?

- Fine.

Well, not fine.

I can't get out of this.

- Here.

- Oh, that's the way that works.

Well, I wish I had of met ya last night.

I wouldn't of had to have slept in the car.

- Ah, well what can I do you?

- Do for me?

It's not what I can do for you, it's what you can do for me.

No, it's what...

- Hank, what did you come over here for?

- Oh, I stopped in at Sam's store

and he gave me something for ya.

- Well, what was it?

- What was it?

Now I remember.

It was a telegram.

Well, it's been nice talking to ya.

- Where's the telegram?

- I don't know.

Where'd you put it?

- You didn't give it to me.

- I didn't?

Oh, that's funny.

Sam handed it to me and I put it in my.

Oh, I couldn't put in that because I wasn't even wearing it.

- All right, just take your time now, hm?

Now think.

Where did you put the telegram?

- Let's see.

Telegram.

Hm, where'd I put that?

- What's that on your head?

- Oh, it's a new hair tonic I've been,

what's this?

- Why I believe that's the telegram.

- Oh, gee, what was it doing under my hat?

- I haven't the faintest idea.

May I have it?

- Why certainly.

- Hey, aren't you going to open it?

- Not the hat, the telegram.

This is for Eb.

- Well what are you doing with it then?

- Eb!

Eb!

- Well, I gotta be running along.

- Eb!

- Yes, sir.

- This is for you.

- Hey.

Holy smoke.

- What's the matter?

- Celia's coming to visit me.

- Will you stop following me?

- But Mr. Douglas, you gotta help me.

- You got yourself into this, you get yourself out.

- How?

- That's your problem?

- What's my problem?

- No, I'm talking to Eb.

- What does he know about my problem?

Boy here got a telegram from Miss Lonely Hearts

and she is coming to visit us.

- Ah, that's nice.

- Well, maybe you won't think so

when you hear what he wants us to do.

He wants us to move out of the bedroom

and let Celia sleep in here.

- It's the least you could do after all the nice things

I wrote her about you two.

- Oh, eh?

Like what?

- That you're the best butler and maid I ever had.

- What?

- Well, a wealthy landowner like me

couldn't be expected to do his own housekeeping.

- That's right.

- Yeah.

Now, what size butler suit do you wear?

- I'm not wearing a butler suit.

- But she's expecting to see my servants.

What'll I tell her?

- Just tell her the truth.

- Yeah.

How does this sound?

My butler and maid drank up all my champagne

and got stoned, and I had to fire 'em.

- That sounds good to me.

- Look Eb, once and for all,

you got into this, you get out of it.

- But Mr. Haney, I can't afford it.

- I'm sorry, Eb, but my standard fee for playing the part

of a chauffeur for a wealthy landowner is $10.

- All I have is seven.

- Could you find your way clear to pay another dollar?

- No sir.

But I can own it to ya.

- Well.

- Please, Mr. Haney.

If I show up at the station to meet Celia

without a chauffeur she'll know I'm a phony right away.

- Seeing it's in the interest of true love,

I'll take your $7 and your IOU.

- That must be her.

Holy smoke, she's dripping wealth.

- Eb?

- Celia?

- Eb.

- Celia!

Welcome to the ancestral halls of the Dawsons.

My car's parked.

- Oh, my bags are...

- My man Haney will get them.

Chop, chop, Haney.

- Could I have a word with you, young master?

- What's the matter?

- Well, the $8 is just for chauffeuring.

Bag carrying is extra.

- How much?

- 50 cents?

- I'll owe it to ya.

- Very good, sir.

- I'm sorry.

My man had a financial problem.

Did you have a good trip, Celia?

- Yes, except for the train ride.

- You didn't like my train?

- Yours?

- Yes, one Christmas I made the mistake

of asking Daddy for trains.

And this is what he bought me.

- I've never known a man that owned his own railroad before.

- Eh, it's a tax write off.

- I'll put these in your high-priced car, sir.

- Fine.

- Where is that kid?

I need the car.

- Oh, he'll be here.

- The train is in over an hour ago.

It only takes 15 minutes to drive here from the station.

- Well, maybe he took the girl for a ride,

saw his vast landholdings.

- Oh, what vast landholdings does he have?

- Over there, my grouse reserves.

I imported them from Scotland

in case I ever get the urge for a grouse.

- Very interesting.

- Over there are my timber holdings.

- You know, it's amazing.

We've been driving for hours and we're still on your estate.

- We still have two more days to go.

- You mean, you own the whole Hooterville Valley?

- Yes.

I named it after a pet owl I used to have, Herbie Hooter.

- You're very cute.

- I should be.

I paid Jack Lemon $10,000 for cute lessons.

- Where to now, young master?

- Just keep driving.

- Well now, where is he?

- Well, maybe they stopped to get married.

- Married?

- But that's why Eb put the ad in, to get a rich wife.

- Lisa, you're a fairly sensible woman, sometimes.

- You couldn't leave it alone.

You had to put in the sometimes.

- Lisa, why would a rich girl answer an ad

in a lonely hearts column?

- I guess you're wondering why I answered your ad.

- Not really.

It was a real eye-catcher.

I got hundreds of answers.

Oh, that's one of my dairy farms.

- It's very nice.

I must tell you, I was a little skeptical

when I first read your ad.

I thought to myself, why would a wealthy landowner

have to advertise in a magazine to meet a girl?

- That's easy to explain.

That's how my father met my mother.

- How romantic.

- So much for my folks.

How about yours?

- Well, there's just my daddy.

He spends most of his time on Wall Street.

He has a seat on the Exchange.

- Yeah well, I guess that's better than standing.

- I'd love to see your home.

- My home?

Oh, the plantation.

I'm saving that for last.

Keep on driving, Haney.

- They're still not back.

- Well, maybe right after they got married

they went on their honeymoon.

- Oh honeymoon.

Oh Lisa, it's 5:30 and I needed the car to...

- 5:30, no wonder you're grouchity.

It's time for your bottle.

- What?

- But it's cocktail time.

Would you like to have a drink?

- I'd love a drink.

- How 'bout a root beer?

- Fine.

You know, this place is charming.

- Yes, I'd like to modernize it.

But the old family retainer

that's running it for me is a little uh.

Would you like a straw, Celia?

- Mm, please.

- Ah, hello, Eb.

- Hello, Old Sam.

- Old?

- This is the retainer I was telling you about.

Old Sam, I'd like you to meet Miss Celia, a wealthy heiress.

- How do you do?

- I'm pleased to meet you.

How long have you worked for Mr. Dawson's family?

- How long have I been working...

- He can never remember.

- Now see here.

- How's business, Old Sam?

- Will you stop calling me...

- Not that it matters.

You've got a job running this store for me

as long as you live.

- Now look.

- Come on, Celia.

- Nice to meet you, Mr. Drucker.

- Nice to meet you too, I think.

Hold it.

What about the root beer?

- It's very good.

And by the way, Old Sam, bring your family

up to the main house for Christmas dinner anytime.

Well, here we are, Celia.

- What is this?

- Oh, this is the outskirts of the old plantation.

- But the house.

- Oh this.

Ah, this belongs to two of my sharecroppers, Oli and Lisa.

The main house burned down last week.

Didn't it, Haney?

- Oh, may I talk to you alone, young master?

Now fibbing about fires will cost you another dollar.

- Put it on my bill.

- Yes, sir.

Yes, miss, it was quite a fire, yes.

- It was a million dollar loss.

Mm, but then I needed another tax write off.

- Are you living here now?

- Not exactly.

My sharecroppers are a nice old couple.

And I didn't have the heart to put them out.

- Oh, hello dear.

- It's about time you...

- Oh, Celia, may I present my faithful

old sharecroppers, Oli and Lisa.

- Wait a minute.

How's that again?

- Did you make supper for us, Lis?

- Well, not quite.

- Good girl.

Come on, Celia.

- Oli, carry Miss Ward's bags in.

- Look, I'm not carry...

- You heard what the young master said, Oli.

- Beat it now.

- Well we better get the young master's dinner ready.

- We're not getting.

Hey hey, come back with my car.

- Well, you told him to beat it.

- Well, I didn't mean it, that did it.

Eb!

Eb, come out here.

- What's the matter, Old Oli?

- You call me that once more.

Look, I've had enough of this nonsense.

I want you to go in that house and tell that girl the truth.

- What is the truth?

- That you're nothing but a hired hand.

You don't have any land.

You don't have a chauffeur.

You don't have anything.

- Oh, that truth.

- Yes.

Now go in and tell her.

- But Mr. Douglas, I... - Tell her!

- Well, that'll make him lose the wealthy heiress.

- Wealthy?

She's just as big a fake as he is.

All those letters about her father's yacht.

And then showing up here

in an imitation mink coat and paste diamonds.

- That's where you're wrong.

That's a genuine mink coat worth at least $8,000.

- $8,000?

- Wholesale.

As for the diamonds, they are real.

About $38,000 worth.

- Are you sure?

- Oliver, I can tell a real diamond at 30 paces

with one eye tied behind my back.

- I don't believe it.

I just don't.

But why would a wealthy girl...

- Excuse me.

Is this the Eb Dawson plantation?

- That's right.

- Oh Lisa.

- Is a Miss Celia Ward here?

- Yes, she's in the sharecroppers house.

- I wonder if I could have a word with her?

- Certainly.

Celia, Celia.

- Who are you?

- I'm Benson, her chauffeur.

- Her...

- Miss Celia.

- Oh, it's you, Benson.

- Yes, Miss.

I've been driving all over the countryside looking for you.

Your father wants you back in New York immediately.

- Celia, is this your chauffeur-driven car?

- Well...

- Forget what I told you about being a penniless hired hand.

That was a lie.

I just told you that to see if you were after my money,

which I have plenty of in the Argentine.

- Eb.

- Shall we go, Miss?

- Oh, yes, Benson.

Good bye, Eb.

And thanks for a fun afternoon.

- Good bye.

- Well, you did it to me.

My chance to marry wealth,

and you made me tell her the truth.

- Well I thought...

- I'll never forgive ya, never, never, never.

- Never, never, never do anything like that again.

- But Daddy.

- Now put Mrs. Baxter's fur coat back in the closet

and those jewels back in her safe before she gets home.

- But I was only trying to impress Eb,

because from his ad I thought he was a wealthy...

- I don't care why you did it.

Just change into your maid's uniform

and help the cook with dinner.

And don't answer any more ads.

- You had no right to burn all my letters.

I might have found another girl among 'em.

- When are you going to learn?

- Hi, you Mr. Dawson the wealthy landowner?

- Well uh... - I'm Sarah Maxwell.

Remember I answered your ad.

I asked you to send me some money for a divorce.

- A divorce?

- Well, I didn't hear anything from ya to the contrary

so I just figured you'd agreed.

- Well no, I didn't...

- Now it's only going to cost you about $8,000.

But that shouldn't matter to a wealthy landowner like you.

- Well, I'm not really a...

- Look at it this way.

$8,000 ain't much for a wife and a ready-made family.

- Family?

- Sure, I wrote ya I had five kids.

Children.

Say hello.

- Hello, Daddy.

- Daddy.

- What's going on here?

- Oh, this lady is here in answer to your ad, Mr. Dawson.

This is the fella you want to talk to.

Bye.

- Oh... - Oh, so you're Mr. Dawson.

- Hello, Daddy.

You're a lot better age for me than the young kid.

- What?

- Now the divorce will only cost about $8,000, see.

And we're all ready to move in

just as soon as the whole thing's finalized.

- Please, please, kids.

What?

- Finalized. - Finalized?

- Yes.

- Watch it, hey.

- Yes, I'll let you to get to know the kids.

Lisa, Lisa!

This has been a Filmways presentation, darling.