Mad Men Season 6, Episode 13, “In Care Of”

Just when I’m ready to give up on Don, he demonstrates some of the self-realization and responsibility I questioned him capable of last week. However, the small measure of growth Don undergoes in the season finale does not come easily to him, ends up costing him dearly, and requires him to first overcome his usual patterns of behavior. Early in the finale, Don once again copes poorly with his problems in the ways we’ve become accustomed to, by drinking and fleeing. Don calls Sally to try to get her to testify in the grandma Ida burglary, and she shames Don with her moral superiority. Devastated by his own failures, Don spends the day indulging in the first coping mechanism: drinking at a bar. He appears to bottom out when he punches a minister and spends the night in jail; it’s somewhat of a turning point, as he’s next seen dumping his alcohol down the kitchen sink. However, we have ample reason to doubt the sincerity of this new leaf: not only is it unrealistic for a functional alcoholic like Don to quit cold turkey (as Ted will point out to him later in the episode), but more importantly he’s still repeating other negative patterns of behavior, in that his next thought is to run away, this time to California.

We learn at the start of the episode that Sunkist wants a branch of SC&P in Los Angeles to handle their account when Stan proposes himself to Don as a candidate to lead that office. After his interaction with Sally, Don decides that California is his best escape route. Don seems sincere when he tells Megan he wants to occupy this position – he’s an incredible salesman, after all, and viewers know he’s been happy in California in the past when he’s visited Anna Draper (and again when he and Megan fell in love). However, Don’s sincerity is all just a show. Ever the charlatan, Don shamelessly steals Stan’s pitch for why Stan wants to go to California (almost verbatim) when he tries to sell Megan on the idea. Don’s genius has always been making others believe that he sincerely feels the things he tells them (both in the ad world and in his personal life), but it is all smoke and mirrors, and an easy trick for a man who spends every day under an assumed identity. He’s simply trying to run away from his problems once again, just as he’s repeatedly done in the past. He’s perhaps demonstrating some measure of growth in that he wants to take Megan with him, rather than abandon her, but it’s all in an effort to leave behind the mess he’s made of his life, specifically his ruined relationship with his daughter. He doesn’t seem to realize that the happiness he wants to (re-)capture by moving to California previously has been the product of his losing his Don Draper pretensions and embracing his Dick Whitman identity, something only Anna (and briefly, Megan) had been able to bring out in him consistently. Running to California with Megan is akin to Betty’s season 3 delusion that having another baby with Don would fix all of their problems. In the words of Pete Campbell, it’s a “temporary bandage on a permanent wound.”

Moreover, he demonstrates other consistent patterns of negative behavior in subsequent scenes, such as when he tells the other partners about his decision to take the position in California. After telling them what he wants to do, he gets up to leave the room before they’ve even had a chance to respond at length. While he does say that he welcomes a vote on his decision on his way out the door, once again, like with Joan and Jaguar last year, Don does not seem to comprehend that conversations continue after he’s made a decision or leaves a room (more below on how this will come back to bite Don at the episode’s end). Additionally, as usual, he doesn’t seem to pause to consider how his unilateral decisions will affect others: Ted is understandably pissed off, Roger looks shocked and upset to be abandoned by his closest friend, Stan bitterly berates him for stealing his idea, and Dawn disappears, perhaps distraught over the idea of losing her job. Through and through, Don’s behavior and decisions with regard to California are instances of his being the same callous and arrogant person who creates so much unhappiness in his and others’ lives.

However, these old patterns of behavior change midway through the episode, and Don seems to hit upon a moment of real growth. He realizes that running away from Sally won’t fix his problems. It’s a realization that dawns on him gradually, and one that is intimately tied to his own upbringing. The episode gets its title, “In Care Of,” from the court order Sally receives in the mail, which is addressed to:

Miss Sally Beth Draper
c/o Mr. Donald F. Draper.

Don can’t handle the knowledge that he’s failed to take care of Sally, because it makes him just as damnable as the stepmother and other prostitutes who did a terrible job of raising him as a child. Being no better than his prostitute stepmother or his pimp father figure is what sets Don on his shame spiral and triggers his usual coping mechanisms. So why does he decide not to flee this time? What changes his mind? Betty provides part of the reason. She calls Don in the middle of the night to tell him that Sally has been suspended from boarding school for buying beer. Don’s first impulse is to dismiss Sally’s behavior as “kids will be kids,” but when Betty reveals how distraught she is (in a wonderfully tender and vulnerable moment for the character), she unknowingly hits upon the magic words to make Don feel responsible: “She’s from a broken home.” Betty intends to implicate herself in causing Sally’s behavior, but Don knows better: the real brokenness comes from Don’s shattering her faith in him (just look at his reaction to this line – hand to the forehead, just like when he broke down in the elevator after Sally first spied him and Sylvia, and just like he later does when breaks down in the Hershey's meeting). It’s enough to make him agree to pick up Sally and the kids for Thanksgiving, and to make him apologize to Betty (although she doesn’t know the full extent of the reasons for his apology).

Ted provides Don with the other half of Don’s impetus for growth and change. Ted approaches Don before the Hershey’s meeting, begging Don to let him go to California in Don’s place, in order to distance himself from Peggy and save his family. While Don is sympathetic to Ted’s plight, initially he denies Ted’s request, as he’s already set too many balls in motion and doesn’t want to go back on his word to Megan. However, Don’s resolve melts away in the Hershey’s meeting, where his shame over his past and his present come together in a moment of beautiful, brutal honesty. Don gives an excellent pitch to Hershey’s, one that captures precisely what Hershey’s wants their product to mean to consumers, which Don knows so well because of how much it meant to him as a kid.

After giving his pitch, Don looks at Ted, and sees a defeated man, someone whom Don has doomed to create the same sort of misery that Don suffered as a child, and that Don is currently making Sally suffer as an adult: a broken home. Don snaps – this is the moment where he grows a tiny bit. The scene takes the form of a confessional as Don derails the Hershey’s pitch by describing the truth of his horrible upbringing in the brothel, the stepmother who never wanted him, and the prostitutes who would use him to steal money from their johns and buy him Hershey bars with the gains. This history is why Don has so much insight into Hershey’s brand. As Don says, “Hershey’s is the currency of affection. It’s the childhood symbol of love.” Don is acutely aware of this function of the chocolate because for him, a Hershey’s bar was a symbol for the fantasy of the family he never had. And he’ll be damned if he indirectly causes another family to suffer the same brokenness he was subjected to. After Don tanks the pitch with his sad personal history, he immediately turns to Ted and tells him he wants Ted to go to California. It's an exquisitely powerful scene, not only because Jon Hamm is great in it, but because it also cuts to the core of much of Don's behavior over the past season (more so than any of the flashbacks to the brothel have).

UPDATE: Alan Sepinwall touches on another aspect of this scene that helps to give it its power: it's the dismantling of the careful barriers Don has erected between his personal history and his professional life, and the best explanation yet for why Dick Whitman was so desperate to escape from his past.

However, this moment of self-realization and responsibility does not come cheaply. He returns home to tell Megan that they can’t move to California, and she is understandably apoplectic – already sensitive to Don’s disinterest in her career, she can’t help but feel Don is deliberately sabotaging her, and she can’t see the point of trying to continue their loveless life together. While she doesn’t say she’s leaving for good, she does storm out of the apartment. Considering this is the first time Megan has explicitly suggested they simply give up on their marriage, her reaction would seem to suggest that their marriage is now over for her as well. The only hesitation I have over declaring the Drapers dead and done is that Don will be able to join her in California if he wishes, because his moment of growth during the Hershey’s meeting also cost him his job.

The partners are sick of his absenteeism and lack of self-control, and decide that, just like how Don can leave rooms before meetings are finished, so too can they have meetings before Don arrives, meetings where they vote for Don to take an indefinite leave of absence.* To add insult to injury, on his way out of the building, he runs into replacement candidates from other agencies (including Duck). Don’s ouster seems an appropriate comeuppance for his reprehensible behavior throughout the season, and further confirmation that Don has been somewhat of a villain this year, as his exit is akin to that of other Mad Men antagonists, like Duck in season 2 or Putnam Powell and Lowe in
season 3. Hell, losing his job might even be the healthiest thing for him; his job has been a large part

of his identity, but now that he’s without it, perhaps he can reinvent himself yet again, this time as someone more in touch with his past. He seems to be moving in that direction in the season’s final scene, where he takes steps toward mending his relationship with Sally, taking her and the boys to see the now-abandoned brothel where he grew up. Perhaps in understanding more about his father’s past, Sally will be able to forgive (or at least understand) her father in the present.

* In a way, Don's fear of letting others find out about his past as Dick Whitman are validated; once the other partners get a glimpse of his past, they want nothing to do with him. However, this ignores all of the other mitigating contexts, most pertinently Don choosing a meeting with a client as his moment of revelation (in addition to all of his other behavior this season). Had Don told any of the others about his past in private, I doubt they would have reacted by ousting him from the agency.

Peggy’s trajectories this season nicely dovetailed together in the finale: in the first half of the season, the show drove home the idea that she has become a female version of Don Draper at CGC, and once SCDP and CGC merged in episode six, the second half of the season strongly emphasized Peggy losing control of the direction of her career and her life. She wants to be with Ted, but seems to have little agency in the matter, just like how she had no agency in the merging of SCDP and CGC, her choice of office at SC&P, or how she’s stuck with an apartment she hates in the lower eighties (one she only bought to appease Abe – she wanted to live in the Upper East Side). Thus her rather transparent baiting of Ted with her va-va-voom dress midway through the season finale: it’s not just a petty response to the earlier appearance of Ted’s wife and kids at the office, but it’s also a way of her trying to reclaim some agency and achieve what she wants (Ted).

And it sort of works, at least momentarily. Ted shows up at Peggy’s door, and after giving him a hard time for being so hot and cold toward her, she gets him to tell her he loves her, something she’s wanted to hear again ever since he first admitted it back in episode 9, “The Better Half.” However, before saying so, he puts his feelings for her in possessive terms that still deprive her of any agency: “I don’t want anyone else to have you!” The two make love, and afterwards, she thinks she’s finally won him, and that she’s finally in a position to assert some agency. She tells Ted to go home because she can wait, and doesn’t want a scandal. Her imperative is a miscalculation, however, as Ted is every inch the “good person” Peggy has repeatedly claimed him to be in her previous fights with Don. Lying in bed with his wife moments after lying in bed with Peggy sets the gears of guilt turning in Ted’s mind.* After Don agrees to let Ted be the one to go to California, he breaks the news to Peggy, and puts his decision entirely in terms that once again completely eliminate any agency Peggy might have thought she had, telling her he can’t be around her because it would ruin the lives of his family, and that, “Someday you’ll be glad I made this decision.” Peggy responds by cynically putting a button on everything that’s happened to her in the second half of the season: “Well aren’t you lucky, to have decisions.”

* One might also read Ted’s flip-flopping on his resolve as spinelessness, as my roommate does. However, I think that sells Ted short; the spineless thing to do would be to string Peggy along, claiming that he’ll divorce his wife while never intending to do so, trying to have both the stability of his family and his love for Peggy simultaneously without sacrificing anything. Instead, Ted forces himself to make a hard decision and choose between the two, and his sense of morality and responsibility – and his trepidation over the chaotic times in which they live – sways him toward family and away from Peggy. 

The end of her affair with Ted, and the end of Don’s involvement at SC&P (at least for now) is a turning point for Peggy: no longer is she going to let others wrest away control of her life and career, and her resolve is incorporated into both the plot and the style in her final appearance of the season, which once again picks up the motif that she has become the female Don Draper. She appears at the office, hard at work, and for the second time in the entire series (and the first time in the office), she’s wearing pants. Pants! After saying goodbye to Stan, she sits in Don’s chair, in Don’s office, turns her back to the camera, and tilts her head to the side, embodying the quintessential Don Draper pose that concludes the opening credits of the show. The costuming, the setting, and the staging all contribute to the unmistakably clear idea that Peggy has once again resumed her trajectory of becoming the female Don (if not achieving it entirely – the partners are still interviewing others to replace Don).

In other developments, poor Roger and his spoiled brat of a daughter. She turns on the charm only when she wants something from him, and then turns punitive when Roger refuses. Then again, given that Roger is something of a spoiled brat himself, it’s no surprise that this is the kind of person his daughter would become. Perhaps Roger can do a better job with little Kevin, now that Joan has relented and allowed him to become a part of the child’s life. I like Joan’s decision here; while Roger has repeatedly disappointed her in the course of their lives, he hasn’t yet done so for their child, so she’s allowing him the chance to be there for him. Reasonably, she expect him to fail, but given that Joan and Bob appear to be fast friends, and that Kevin will grow up thinking Greg is his actual father, it’s not as though Kevin won’t have other father figures around should Roger prove himself to be irresponsible once again.

Sadly, the truce between Bob and Pete didn’t even last one full episode, as Pete’s mother – and Pete’s own petulance and impotent rage – interfered. Poor Mrs. Campbell drowned at sea after falling overboard on a cruise (not quite the death all of the conspiracy theorists clamored for). Apparently, she also married Manolo, which instantly makes Pete suspect Manolo murdered her for her (nonexistent) money, and causes Pete to fly into a rage, blame Bob for his mother’s death, and threaten to expose Bob and implicate him along with Manolo. Unfortunately, Pete’s getting a bit ahead of himself here. When he and his brother later mull pursuit of the investigation over their mother’s drowning, they both evidently agree that their lives are easier without their mother in them, especially considering the expensive prospect of pursuing justice. Ladies and gentlemen, the wonderful Campbells!

Given how easily he’s willing to let Manolo slide, perhaps Pete should have thanked Bob rather than threatened him, especially considering Pete didn’t have the foresight to think that it might be problematic for him to take over Chevy when he’s such a terrible driver. Bob is well aware of Pete’s clumsiness behind the wheel, and smartly maneuvers Pete into driving one of the cars in the Chevy lobby, where Pete promptly loses all respect from the Chevy reps when he demolishes a large, neon Chevy sign. This scene had me holding my breath in anticipation of another accident akin to the lawnmower scene from season 3’s “Guy Walks into an Advertising Agency,” but happily, the only thing mangled this time around is Pete’s career with Chevy, and apparently, his career in New York.

Pete’s season concludes with him visiting Trudy to deliver his mother’s things and to say goodbye before heading out to California with Ted. It’s a strange move: considering how crucial Pete had

been to building up SCDP’s business in the wake of the Lucky Strike fiasco, one would think he’d long ago secured his place in the agency. However, the merger has demonstrated how quickly the sands can shift. Regardless, his skill at building up business will doubtlessly serve him well in Los Angeles; I can easily see him and Ted growing the California branch of SC&P into something substantial, and I remain very curious over how Pete will continue to be incorporated into the show next season.

All in all, it was an excellent end to a sometimes trying, but ultimately good season: Don achieved some measure of growth after a long period of regression, faced the consequences of his actions, and will need to adapt with the times in order to move forward; Peggy continues to make strides in her career after the setback of the merger; Pete and Ted both bounce themselves out of the New York office and achieve some measure of peace, and Roger makes inroads with Joan, who herself makes inroads in her own career advancement. It’s unfortunate that so much of the season was wrapped up with Don repeating past mistakes and behavior, but sometimes you need to take a step backward in order to move forward. I’m excited to see how the series will conclude next year.

Other thoughts:

- There are some nice stylistic touches that help to emphasize the difficulty Ted has in choosing between Peggy and his family: the last shot of the scene where he leaves Peggy’s bed is of Peggy lying on her side, watching him go, and the very next shot is of Ted’s wife Nan lying in the same position, but with the angle reversed. Similarly, the shot ends in an overhead angle very similar to one showing him and Peggy in bed together. The two are equal, in Ted’s mind.

- Holy shit, that is some dress on Peggy. The closest we’ve seen to her dressing this way before was from a few seasons ago, when she thought Abe was going to propose to her (each dress prominently featured a bow in the middle, as if she were a present to be unwrapped - a prominent motif in the women's costumes over the years on this show, according to Tom and Lorenzo).

- There are some seeds laid in this episode for a future mending of Peggy and Don’s relationship. The two don’t have a scene together, but when Ted tells Peggy he’s leaving for California, Peggy initially assumes that Don is forcing Ted to go there (“Siberia,” as she puts it) just to screw with her and Ted. Righteously indignant, she’s ready to storm into Don’s office to berate him for his selfishness until Ted shocks her with the news that Don gave up his spot in California for him. She’s thrown for a loop, and replies “Don?” in disbelief. While Peggy is likely to resent Don for enabling Ted to remove himself from her life (in addition to all of Don’s other abusive behavior this season), perhaps eventually she will be able to appreciate that Don did something “nice” for someone else, even if it meant she got hurt in the process, and even if Don might have had his own, personal reasons for doing so. Then again, perhaps not; it would be much easier to simply blame Don for enabling Ted to leave her. Either way, I’m looking forward to whatever kind of resolution Don and Peggy achieve in the seventh and final season next year. Despite Don being drummed out of SC&P, I fully anticipate that this is not the last we’ve seen of the two interacting with one another, as it would be very unsatisfying for the most complex and consistently rewarding relationship on the show to end with her denouncing him as a monster (however true that might be).

- If I drank coffee, I’d want one of those SC&P mugs.

- Another nice stylistic touch: Roger leans down to put out his cigarette, and the camera follows his hand. Cut to a shot of a boarding school phone hanging off the hook, and the camera follows Sally’s hand as she raises it to talk.

- Stan got in some nice zingers at Don’s expense once he realized Don had stolen his idea for California. At the end of the scene, Don tries to stop Stan from leaving by asking him where he’s going, and Stan replies, “I’m going to have that sandwich on my desk. I need to get to it before you do.”

- Ted explains his waiting for Peggy in her apartment: “I told your neighbors I was a cop.” Peggy replies, “Well you should go home before they kill you.”

- What the hell happened with Avon? We never really get a resolution to Joan’s arc this season. To be continued, I suppose.

- Don and Megan live on the 17th floor. Not sure if this is new information, but I don’t remember seeing him press the elevator button for his floor before.

- The Hershey’s pitch was vintage Mad Men, if not quite vintage Don Draper – unlike with the Carousel pitch in season 1, Don’s real personal history unsurprisingly doesn’t actually work to sell Hershey’s on SC&P. Nevertheless, it was remarkable to see Don’s Hershey's pitch, and then the truth of Don’s past associations with the chocolate back to back. The contrast provided some nice insight into how Don is able to call upon his own awful experiences and transform them into cleaned up, wholesome, and marketable fantasies.

- It’s somewhat shocking how contemptuous Bert comes off in the ouster meeting, considering how little he has contributed to the company in the past 4 years. The only aspect of the agency he seems to care about anymore are decorum and professionalism, and despite his otherwise cluelessness, he has oddly been able to keep a good pulse on these things around the office. Once Don infringed on both of these things with his personal history in the Hershey’s meeting, he damned himself in Bert’s eyes. I also like that Joan can’t meet Don’s gaze in the ouster confrontation. I would have liked to have seen more resistance or sympathy from Roger, however. Feels like there’s more story to be told there, given their history together.