SPOILERS AHEAD FOR EVERYTHING THAT HAS AIRED TO DATE
I’m late getting to the write-up this week because, you know, life happens. Fortunately Mad Men waits for me. It’s not as demanding as a crying baby or an “eccentric” hotel baron or a lascivious cigarette salesman. After all, the stories are already forty-six years old. What’s a few more days?
When the sun is high in the afternoon sky
you can always find something to do…
But from dusk til dawn as the clock ticks on
something happens to you.
“Wee Small Hours” drops us without warning into one of Betty’s dreams, and it turns out to be a sex dream about Henry Francis having his way with her on her new “fainting couch”. Well, he doesn’t actually get very far because the telephone rings, which either causes Baby Eugene to start screaming or his parents have just learned to sleep through his wails. Betty gets up to feed Eugene while Don talks to Conrad Hilton, a man who apparently never sleeps and doesn’t think anyone else should either. He wants Don to put something together for Hilton’s international portfolio.
Don’s wide awake now, so he decides to drive to the office and get a head start on his day, but discovers Miss Farrell jogging in the street. He convinces her to let him give her a ride back to her house, and is startled again when she says she plans to read Martin Luther’s King’s “I Have a Dream” speech to her new students. “Are you dumb or pure?” Don asks. Turns out Don has been maddened by thoughts of the pretty young teacher since last spring when he watched her dance barefoot around the maypole. He’s not new to alternative types — Midge was a beatnik, after all — but there’s something airy about Miss Farrell that he can’t get his head around. And he wants her all the more for it.
For once maybe Don shouldn’t feel too guilty because Betty is still conducting her own illicit romance with Henry Francis. On the heels of her dream, she sends him a letter asking a simple question: “Does anyone else read this?” She’s delighted when she receives his response (“Not anymore.”), but terrified when he shows up unannounced at her house one afternoon, right as Carla is due back. When Carla walks in on the two of them, Henry declares the house a fine location for a Rockefeller fundraiser and leaves. Carla is no fool, but she’s not family either. What can she say?
I was a little surprised to find this storyline continuing. Betty’s reaction to Henry last week, and her curt response to Francine made me think Betty had made up her mind to give up on Mr. Francis. And I suppose I should think the same thing after her reluctance to conduct an affair in Henry’s office or hotel (which is “tawdry”). But I suppose we’ll see. Betty’s pouting when Henry’s assistant showed up at the sham fundraiser was exactly what I’ve come to expect from her though.
In the wee small hours of the morning
While the whole wide world is fast asleep
You lie awake and think about the girl
And never ever think of counting sheep
Henry works in politics, where no one bats 1.000. You win some and you lose some. So perhaps he’s willing to admit that he’s lost. Conrad Hilton is no such man. He wants what he wants when he wants it (much, as Betty points out, like a baby). Hilton is basically a patriot. He wants Americans to travel abroad, not so much so they can experience all the great culture the world has to offer, but so they can spread American influence, essentially remaking the globe in our red, white, and blue image. I suppose we’ve succeeded at that to some degree, and consumerism has played a large role in that — McDonalds, anyone? Hilton, upon calling Don for a midnight drink, tells him, “You can say no. I’ve heard it before.” But while Don is more than happy to say no to Peggy (“all the time”), he has so far never said no to Hilton. He has catered to his every whim.
Perhaps that’s hurt his sense of perspective (as Roger suggests). When Hilton says that he wants to put Hilton hotels on the moon, Don assumes it’s hyperbole. But when the Sterling-Cooper team unveils their proposed campaign for Hilton International, Connie is sorely disappointed that there’s no ad featuring the moon. “When I say I want the moon,” Connie says, “I expect the moon.” Is this a test? Does Hilton really want the moon, or is he just trying to see how far Don is willing to go? I can’t tell, but I do know that Don would have been much more forthright with any other client, explaining in precise detail why portraying a hotel on the moon is a stupid idea. That he’s not willing to do that with Hilton seems a major red flag to me.
When your lonely heart has learned its lesson
You’d be hers if only she would call
In the wee small hours of the morning
That’s the time you miss her most of all
Meanwhile, Sal is shooting a new commercial for Lucky Strike, and Lee Garner, Jr. is making a pest of himself. Garner picks up on Sal’s sexual orientation and makes a pass at him in the editing room. When Sal rebuffs him, Garner calls Harry and demands that Sal be fired. He also insists that Harry not tell anyone else. Harry, not being in a position to fire Sal or anyone else, decides to bet that the situation will blow over when Garner sobers up. It does not. Garner arrives for the ad screening, sees Sal sitting at the table, and storms off without saying a word.
After Roger fires Sal himself and rips Harry for not being smart enough to tell someone in the Accounts Department that the company’s largest client was unhappy, Harry and Sal go to Don for help. When Don is finally able to coax an explanation from Sal about what happened, he’s surprised to learn that Sal wasn’t willing to take one for the team.
DON: You must have been shocked.
SAL: I was. Believe me.
DON: But nothing happened. Because nothing could have happened, because you’re married.
SAL: Don, I swear on my mother’s life.
DON: You sure you want to do that? Who do you think you’re talking to?
SAL: I guess I was just supposed to do whatever he wanted? What if it was some girl?
DON: That would depend on what kind of girl it was and what I knew about her. You people…
Sterling-Cooper is in the business of giving clients whatever they want. There’s no question that Don would not have allowed Garner or any other man to literally have sex with him, but he would probably sleep with any female client necessary. Sal either takes this message to heart or is just tragically desperate, because he later calls his wife to tell her he won’t be home until late. I guess we should assume he plans to hunt down Garner and allow the man to do what he wants to do.
It’s interesting to me, though, that Don also seems to think that gay men are poly-amorous, and that the world is just a big potential all-male orgy to them. It’s also interesting that the other gay characters we’ve seen on the show apparently share this attitude. They’re all skeptical when Sal tries to turn them down. But Don’s belief isn’t just limited to homosexuals. He expresses a similar sentiment to Miss Farrell when he shows up at her apartment at the end of the episode. “I want you. I don’t care. Doesn’t that mean anything to someone like you?” But who is someone like you? A free spirit? Is a woman who dances barefoot in the grass and jogs before dawn naturally the kind of woman who will give herself to any man that wants her? I suppose he turns out to be correct.
This is really the only moment of the episode where we see Don pursuing something he wants rather than trying to fulfill the needs of Hilton, and he’s not willing to take no for an answer. Everyone wants something. Hilton wants the moon, Garner wants Sal, Sal wants his job back, Don wants Miss Farrell, Henry wants Betty, Betty wants Henry (and then doesn’t). And Roger wants everyone to stop trying to do his job, which is interesting because he previously compares the responsibilities of the Accounts Department to, um, “massaging” their clients. He is an expert at giving people what they want, and yet no one seems to want him around.
I liked this episode a lot, though the lack of subtlety started to bother me the more I thought about it: Hilton asking for the moon, the juxtaposition of Martin Luther King speeches against Sal’s predicament. And the back and forth of the Henry Francis plotline is starting to bug me. But I cared what was happening on a character-level more than I have in a few weeks, and I think that’s significant. “Wee Small Hours” isn’t just social messages and 1960s set-pieces, which the show can sometimes devolve into. Rather it’s people in difficult situations trying to hold onto what they have. There was good humor tonight (Pete choking on the cigarette while the commercial filmed), but I’m still a bit haunted by the imagine of a disheveled Sal standing in a phone booth surrounded by hoodlums, telling his wife he’s not coming home.
Rating: 
Don’s relationship with Hilton will either be a life jacket or a set of concrete shoes. I’m not sure which yet, but I suspect we’ll know soon. Hilton thinks of Don as a son, but better because he doesn’t have what they have. I’m not sure what he’s saying about his real sons. Did anyone understand that? I do think that Don took quite a risk, however, sneaking off in the middle of the night under the pretense of catering to a request from Hilton, when Hilton is just as likely to call for real while Don’s out of the house.
