Scarecrow and Mrs. King
“Ghosts from the Past”
Written by Anne Riener
A filler scene for the episode “We’re Off to See the Wizard.”
“We’re Off to See the Wizard” was written by Whitney W. Roberson and originally aired on September 30, 1985.
“Ghosts from the Past”
Written by Anne Riener
A filler scene for the episode “We’re Off to See the Wizard.”
“We’re Off to See the Wizard” was written by Whitney W. Roberson and originally aired on September 30, 1985.
“Experience is the only thing that brings knowledge, and the longer you are on earth the more experience you are sure to get.”
~L. Frank Baum, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz
After taking a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim interior, Lee Stetson scanned the room trying to spot his objective for the evening. The smell of sweat, stale beer, and the staining odor of nicotine hung in the air. A heavy mass of people had packed the dance floor for a Friday night, while sounds of people laughing and carrying on and the heavy beat of rock music from a corner jukebox assailed his eardrums.
‘I’m getting too old for this,’ he thought, shaking his head unashamedly.
Lee was about to give up and leave, when he spied his target sitting at the far corner barstool.
After strolling over to the counter, and unzipping his jacket, he settled down next to the haggard looking man, who was nursing a glass of whiskey and smoking a cigarette.
The man took a leisurely drag from his cigarette. Then exhaling, white smoke curled toward the ceiling. He flicked ashes into the ashtray next to him.
Lee studied the man for a moment. He was ruggedly handsome, but worn; someone who had seen too much.
“Why the look of sympathy, Scarecrow?” The man asked, rubbing his aching chest, as he turned to face him. “It was a fair shot. Doc Kelford said I’m a bit bruised, but should heal with time. Nonetheless, sure throbs like hell.”
Lee was about to apologize, when the bartender interrupted him. “What can I get you?”
“A beer,” Lee supplied, after quickly surveying the long rows of shelves of liquors and sprints behind the counter.
“Bottle or on tap?” The bartender asked, wiping down the countertop with a white dishrag.
“Bottle is fine.”
The bartender reached below the counter and grasped a bottle from the cooler. After twisting off the cap, he handed the bottle to Lee.
Lee placed his fingers around the frosty long neck of the bottle and took a swig. The malty ale went down with a bite. Absently, he reached for some pretzels on the counter and popped a couple into his mouth, before washing them down. Then he glanced over at his mentor again. For the first time in a long time, he appeared relaxed, happy, content, like a load had been lifted from his shoulders; however, Lee had to wonder if it was not because of the alcohol he was consuming.
The man took another drag of his cigarette. “I’m retiring.”
“What?” Lee had to yell over the music.
He smashed the remainder of the cigarette into the ashtray. “I’m retiring,” he said a bit louder.
“You can’t retire. You’re a legend.” Lee shook his head in disbelief, he then gazed up at the mirror behind the bar and stared back at his reflection. “How can a legend retire?”
“I know I told you the Wizard had some magic left, but that was all a lie. To be quite honest, Lee, I am worn out. A shadow of remorse crossed his features, briefly, before he continued, “However, I am not regretting my decision. I have been given complete control to choose who will be my predecessor over the Oz Network. And I would like to offer it to you.”
Lee swirled his beer, thinking, then turned slightly to answer his friend. “Paul, I’m honored. But I can’t, not with what happened with Serdeyich
and—” The words died on his lips.
“I understand,” Paul acknowledged, a bit disappointed, but empathetic. “So whatever happened to Monks? The bar’s not the same as I remember.”
Shrugging, Lee answered, “Things change.”
Holding two fingers up into the air, Paul grabbed the bartender’s attention. “Another round for me and my friend.”
The bartender filled their orders and then wiped his hands on his apron. Paul laid a few bills on the counter. With a nod, the bartender took the cash and placed the money into the cash register.
Lee slugged back another swallow, and then spilled beer down the front of his shirt when he was jostled suddenly. He quickly turned around to face the person who had bumped him. She was an attentive woman. Lee surmised she was probably in her late twenties, and was wearing tight fitting blue jeans and a loose fitting denim jacket over her tank-top. Her dark brown hair was pitched in reckless abandon with the use of at least one, if not two cans of hairspray. Her liquid eyes drank in the sight of him.
“Excuse me,” she replied in a sultry voice. “I’m terribly sorry. That was all my fault. May I buy you another beer?”
Lee blinked a few times. “Umm, no thanks, Miss. But thanks for the offer.”
“Oh, but I insist.” She crushed herself between Lee and Paul and tapped her long pointy nails onto the Formica countertop, grabbing the bartender’s attention.
“What will it be?” The bartender inquired, as he stepped closer to the group.
She gave him a bright smile. “A Mojito for me. And for you?”
“Another beer?” The bartender asked, before Lee could reply.
Lee nodded his head and the bartender busied himself making their orders.
“My name is Erica, and yours?” She ran a manicured finger up his arm.
Lee stopped the advancement and shook her hand instead. “Nice to meet you, Erica, but we are otherwise engaged for the evening.”
The bartender returned with the drinks and Erica grabbed hers with a huff.
“Your loss.” Then flickering her hair, she turned on her heels, and walked away. All three men watched her retreat.
Paul shook his head wryly. Yes, how times had changed. “Oh, yeah, I would say things have changed,” he teased with a big grin.
“Huh?” Lee asked, bringing his attention back to his longtime friend.
“So tell me about Amanda?” He asked, twirling the amber-colored liquid in his glass.
“If it hadn’t been for Amanda getting me to open up about Dorothy. . .” Lee gazed down, clenched his jaw and swallowed hard. “Serdeyich played me.”
“He played us both,” Paul emphasized.
“He really had me convinced I was seeing Dorothy.” Lee raked his hand absently through his hair. “If Amanda hadn’t afforded me the opportunity to step back and reevaluate things, you could very well be dead, Paul.”
“I guess I owe her my life then.” Paul threw back the last of his drink. “Maybe I should ask her out for a drink or something.”
“She’s not your type,” Lee replied protectively. The muscle on his jaw pulsated.
Paul gave him a sideways glance, raising an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize there was something going on between you two.”
“No. There’s nothing going on between us.” He stated with a dismissive wave of his hand. “We’re just friends. Good friends, but just friends.”
“Uh-huh. Methinks you protest too much. It appears the Scarecrow has finally found a brain.”
Chuckling, Lee shook his head, and then took a swig of beer while simultaneously dipping his hand into the bowl of pretzels. He tossed another handful of pretzels into his mouth and chewed. Feeling a bit of a buzz, he let the music flow over him. A slow rock ballad played in the background. He wondered what Amanda was doing this evening.
“Do you remember when we first met?” The sound of Paul’s voice broke him from his reverie.
“Sure, I was in Geneva; chasing girls, putting off life.” He shook his head at the memory, slightly amused. “I met you at an old rathskeller on the Rue de Velours and we got rip roaring drunk.”
“Yes, that we did.” He laughed, dancing his finger back and forth on the rim of his glass. “However, our chance meeting wasn’t happenstance.” Paul leaned forward and placed his hands on the counter. “I purposely sought you out.”
Lee took another swig. The beer was now warmer and held a pungent after-taste. “Why?”
“To see what you had done with your life.” He shook his head, regretfully. “I should have told you this earlier. You probably don’t remember, but I met you when you were about three years old.”
His eyes widened in surprise. “You knew my parents?” His brow then furrowed as he tried to recall the details of his youth.
“I had met your father back in my MID days. I was a rookie and a little wet behind the ears; Matthew took me under his wings and showed me the ropes. That’s why I handpicked you. I figured if you were half the agent your dad was, I would have the right man.”
“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” His voice cracked with emotion.
Paul put a comforting hand on Lee’s shoulder. “I’m telling you now, because I believe it is time to let go of the ghosts from your past; Dorothy,
Eva. . . your parents.” Paul was silent for a moment, giving Lee some time to ponder what he had said, when from the corner of his eye, he noticed a strikingly beautiful woman in her early thirties with short cropped hair and dark eye-liner, dressed in tan-colored leggings and a knit pullover with ankle-length boots. She walked past them and sat down at the booth across from the bar. Their eyes locked for a moment and she smiled radiantly at him. Paul patted his friend on the back a couple times. “Maybe the Wizard does have a little magic left. After all, the old moves are still the best ones.” He stood up, rubbed his aching chest again, and ambled over to her.
Lee shook his head and then chugged back the rest of his drink. He placed the bottle down and tossed a couple dollars on the counter for a tip. With a slight nod to the bartender, he then left the crowded neighborhood bar, climbing up the basement steps to the street level. The city streetlights illuminated the busy Georgetown sidewalks, as Lee headed toward his car. A slight autumn chill was in the air. He zipped up his jacket and shoved his hands into the pockets for warmth. Walking down the street, he passed by a flower vendor who was just closing up his cart for the night, and Lee thought to himself, ‘Maybe I should buy Amanda some flowers and give them to her on Monday. Just a token of my appreciation for all the help she’s been to me this week.’ A smile formed on his face as her name silently graced his lips. ‘I’ll stop here before heading to the Agency.’ With a firm nod of his head, his train of thought continued, ‘Roses. Yes, roses would do nicely.’
**********
Author’s note: I also have to acknowledge the episode “Stemwinder: Part 2,” written by Robert W. Gilmer and George Geiger, which aired on September 26, 1986. In the script, there is additional unfilmed dialogue after Lee says, “Well, here we are. Nice quiet dinner in our cozy hideout cleaning our guns. Another typical evening with the *spy* family.” Lee then goes on to tell Amanda how he had met Paul Barnes. I borrowed a tiny bit of that dialogue, but changed it up a bit to suit this story.
AMANDA
Do you know ‘The Road Not Taken’?
LEE
Robert Frost? Sure. Not all of it, but. . . ‘Two roads diverged in a yellow wood. . . And sorry I could not travel both. . .’ and so on.
AMANDA
Do you remember when you chose this way to go?
LEE
You mean, when did I decide I didn't want two-and-a-half kids and a mortgage?
AMANDA
No, that's a negative. You don't think like that. You picked this.
LEE
Yeah. . . I did. I was twenty-one, drinking the summer away chasing girls in Geneva, putting off life. I met a guy covering the Warsaw Pact. . . he didn't say so, but he was Agency–Paul Barnes. He'd met my dad back in his MID days. We got roaring drunk one night in an old rathskeller on the Rue de Velours. . .
(grinning beat)
So, I decided, if I was going to put off my life, I might as well get paid for it and have some fun.
~L. Frank Baum, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz
After taking a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim interior, Lee Stetson scanned the room trying to spot his objective for the evening. The smell of sweat, stale beer, and the staining odor of nicotine hung in the air. A heavy mass of people had packed the dance floor for a Friday night, while sounds of people laughing and carrying on and the heavy beat of rock music from a corner jukebox assailed his eardrums.
‘I’m getting too old for this,’ he thought, shaking his head unashamedly.
Lee was about to give up and leave, when he spied his target sitting at the far corner barstool.
After strolling over to the counter, and unzipping his jacket, he settled down next to the haggard looking man, who was nursing a glass of whiskey and smoking a cigarette.
The man took a leisurely drag from his cigarette. Then exhaling, white smoke curled toward the ceiling. He flicked ashes into the ashtray next to him.
Lee studied the man for a moment. He was ruggedly handsome, but worn; someone who had seen too much.
“Why the look of sympathy, Scarecrow?” The man asked, rubbing his aching chest, as he turned to face him. “It was a fair shot. Doc Kelford said I’m a bit bruised, but should heal with time. Nonetheless, sure throbs like hell.”
Lee was about to apologize, when the bartender interrupted him. “What can I get you?”
“A beer,” Lee supplied, after quickly surveying the long rows of shelves of liquors and sprints behind the counter.
“Bottle or on tap?” The bartender asked, wiping down the countertop with a white dishrag.
“Bottle is fine.”
The bartender reached below the counter and grasped a bottle from the cooler. After twisting off the cap, he handed the bottle to Lee.
Lee placed his fingers around the frosty long neck of the bottle and took a swig. The malty ale went down with a bite. Absently, he reached for some pretzels on the counter and popped a couple into his mouth, before washing them down. Then he glanced over at his mentor again. For the first time in a long time, he appeared relaxed, happy, content, like a load had been lifted from his shoulders; however, Lee had to wonder if it was not because of the alcohol he was consuming.
The man took another drag of his cigarette. “I’m retiring.”
“What?” Lee had to yell over the music.
He smashed the remainder of the cigarette into the ashtray. “I’m retiring,” he said a bit louder.
“You can’t retire. You’re a legend.” Lee shook his head in disbelief, he then gazed up at the mirror behind the bar and stared back at his reflection. “How can a legend retire?”
“I know I told you the Wizard had some magic left, but that was all a lie. To be quite honest, Lee, I am worn out. A shadow of remorse crossed his features, briefly, before he continued, “However, I am not regretting my decision. I have been given complete control to choose who will be my predecessor over the Oz Network. And I would like to offer it to you.”
Lee swirled his beer, thinking, then turned slightly to answer his friend. “Paul, I’m honored. But I can’t, not with what happened with Serdeyich
and—” The words died on his lips.
“I understand,” Paul acknowledged, a bit disappointed, but empathetic. “So whatever happened to Monks? The bar’s not the same as I remember.”
Shrugging, Lee answered, “Things change.”
Holding two fingers up into the air, Paul grabbed the bartender’s attention. “Another round for me and my friend.”
The bartender filled their orders and then wiped his hands on his apron. Paul laid a few bills on the counter. With a nod, the bartender took the cash and placed the money into the cash register.
Lee slugged back another swallow, and then spilled beer down the front of his shirt when he was jostled suddenly. He quickly turned around to face the person who had bumped him. She was an attentive woman. Lee surmised she was probably in her late twenties, and was wearing tight fitting blue jeans and a loose fitting denim jacket over her tank-top. Her dark brown hair was pitched in reckless abandon with the use of at least one, if not two cans of hairspray. Her liquid eyes drank in the sight of him.
“Excuse me,” she replied in a sultry voice. “I’m terribly sorry. That was all my fault. May I buy you another beer?”
Lee blinked a few times. “Umm, no thanks, Miss. But thanks for the offer.”
“Oh, but I insist.” She crushed herself between Lee and Paul and tapped her long pointy nails onto the Formica countertop, grabbing the bartender’s attention.
“What will it be?” The bartender inquired, as he stepped closer to the group.
She gave him a bright smile. “A Mojito for me. And for you?”
“Another beer?” The bartender asked, before Lee could reply.
Lee nodded his head and the bartender busied himself making their orders.
“My name is Erica, and yours?” She ran a manicured finger up his arm.
Lee stopped the advancement and shook her hand instead. “Nice to meet you, Erica, but we are otherwise engaged for the evening.”
The bartender returned with the drinks and Erica grabbed hers with a huff.
“Your loss.” Then flickering her hair, she turned on her heels, and walked away. All three men watched her retreat.
Paul shook his head wryly. Yes, how times had changed. “Oh, yeah, I would say things have changed,” he teased with a big grin.
“Huh?” Lee asked, bringing his attention back to his longtime friend.
“So tell me about Amanda?” He asked, twirling the amber-colored liquid in his glass.
“If it hadn’t been for Amanda getting me to open up about Dorothy. . .” Lee gazed down, clenched his jaw and swallowed hard. “Serdeyich played me.”
“He played us both,” Paul emphasized.
“He really had me convinced I was seeing Dorothy.” Lee raked his hand absently through his hair. “If Amanda hadn’t afforded me the opportunity to step back and reevaluate things, you could very well be dead, Paul.”
“I guess I owe her my life then.” Paul threw back the last of his drink. “Maybe I should ask her out for a drink or something.”
“She’s not your type,” Lee replied protectively. The muscle on his jaw pulsated.
Paul gave him a sideways glance, raising an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize there was something going on between you two.”
“No. There’s nothing going on between us.” He stated with a dismissive wave of his hand. “We’re just friends. Good friends, but just friends.”
“Uh-huh. Methinks you protest too much. It appears the Scarecrow has finally found a brain.”
Chuckling, Lee shook his head, and then took a swig of beer while simultaneously dipping his hand into the bowl of pretzels. He tossed another handful of pretzels into his mouth and chewed. Feeling a bit of a buzz, he let the music flow over him. A slow rock ballad played in the background. He wondered what Amanda was doing this evening.
“Do you remember when we first met?” The sound of Paul’s voice broke him from his reverie.
“Sure, I was in Geneva; chasing girls, putting off life.” He shook his head at the memory, slightly amused. “I met you at an old rathskeller on the Rue de Velours and we got rip roaring drunk.”
“Yes, that we did.” He laughed, dancing his finger back and forth on the rim of his glass. “However, our chance meeting wasn’t happenstance.” Paul leaned forward and placed his hands on the counter. “I purposely sought you out.”
Lee took another swig. The beer was now warmer and held a pungent after-taste. “Why?”
“To see what you had done with your life.” He shook his head, regretfully. “I should have told you this earlier. You probably don’t remember, but I met you when you were about three years old.”
His eyes widened in surprise. “You knew my parents?” His brow then furrowed as he tried to recall the details of his youth.
“I had met your father back in my MID days. I was a rookie and a little wet behind the ears; Matthew took me under his wings and showed me the ropes. That’s why I handpicked you. I figured if you were half the agent your dad was, I would have the right man.”
“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” His voice cracked with emotion.
Paul put a comforting hand on Lee’s shoulder. “I’m telling you now, because I believe it is time to let go of the ghosts from your past; Dorothy,
Eva. . . your parents.” Paul was silent for a moment, giving Lee some time to ponder what he had said, when from the corner of his eye, he noticed a strikingly beautiful woman in her early thirties with short cropped hair and dark eye-liner, dressed in tan-colored leggings and a knit pullover with ankle-length boots. She walked past them and sat down at the booth across from the bar. Their eyes locked for a moment and she smiled radiantly at him. Paul patted his friend on the back a couple times. “Maybe the Wizard does have a little magic left. After all, the old moves are still the best ones.” He stood up, rubbed his aching chest again, and ambled over to her.
Lee shook his head and then chugged back the rest of his drink. He placed the bottle down and tossed a couple dollars on the counter for a tip. With a slight nod to the bartender, he then left the crowded neighborhood bar, climbing up the basement steps to the street level. The city streetlights illuminated the busy Georgetown sidewalks, as Lee headed toward his car. A slight autumn chill was in the air. He zipped up his jacket and shoved his hands into the pockets for warmth. Walking down the street, he passed by a flower vendor who was just closing up his cart for the night, and Lee thought to himself, ‘Maybe I should buy Amanda some flowers and give them to her on Monday. Just a token of my appreciation for all the help she’s been to me this week.’ A smile formed on his face as her name silently graced his lips. ‘I’ll stop here before heading to the Agency.’ With a firm nod of his head, his train of thought continued, ‘Roses. Yes, roses would do nicely.’
**********
Author’s note: I also have to acknowledge the episode “Stemwinder: Part 2,” written by Robert W. Gilmer and George Geiger, which aired on September 26, 1986. In the script, there is additional unfilmed dialogue after Lee says, “Well, here we are. Nice quiet dinner in our cozy hideout cleaning our guns. Another typical evening with the *spy* family.” Lee then goes on to tell Amanda how he had met Paul Barnes. I borrowed a tiny bit of that dialogue, but changed it up a bit to suit this story.
AMANDA
Do you know ‘The Road Not Taken’?
LEE
Robert Frost? Sure. Not all of it, but. . . ‘Two roads diverged in a yellow wood. . . And sorry I could not travel both. . .’ and so on.
AMANDA
Do you remember when you chose this way to go?
LEE
You mean, when did I decide I didn't want two-and-a-half kids and a mortgage?
AMANDA
No, that's a negative. You don't think like that. You picked this.
LEE
Yeah. . . I did. I was twenty-one, drinking the summer away chasing girls in Geneva, putting off life. I met a guy covering the Warsaw Pact. . . he didn't say so, but he was Agency–Paul Barnes. He'd met my dad back in his MID days. We got roaring drunk one night in an old rathskeller on the Rue de Velours. . .
(grinning beat)
So, I decided, if I was going to put off my life, I might as well get paid for it and have some fun.