The Partridge Family

Hi. Hi.

We're rehearsing.

I know. I'm watching you.

Do you live around here? Yep.

I haven't seen you here before.

I know. I've been living here about an hour.

Maybe he's a wandering gypsy.

No. I'm Ricky.

Where do you live?

Next door.

Oh, you belong to that moving van outside.

Yep.

Ricky, would you like to stay and watch us rehearse?

Yep. I need to watch pros work.

Why's that?

Because I want to be a big star someday.

Say, he's my kind of guy.

You want to be a singer?

Yep.

I'll tell you what.

Ricky can stay and watch us rehearse,

then we'll all go over and meet his family.

Okay. Sounds like a good idea.

Okay.

Sure it is. You would probably want to take my sister out.

Well, I don't know.

She has a great personality and she's good at tennis.

Well, I'm kind of going with someone.

She has a great body.

Let's get going.

One, two, three, and...

I wonder who that could be.

It's the police.

The kid's got a cute sense of humor.

Hi, Mrs. Partridge.

It is the police.

Sam, what brings you here?

Well, official business, Mrs. Partridge.

Business?

Yes, ma'am. We had a complaint about the noise.

What noise?

That noise.

I mean, I'm not calling your music noise.

I personally think your music's out of sight.

I think the beat's good. The harmony is really something terrific.

Sam, just a moment.

Who called our music "noise"?

The complainant was Mrs. Doris Stevens.

That's my mom.

Did your mother call the police?

Yep.

But why? Doesn't she like music?

No.

Oh, she'll probably be satisfied if we just turned the volume down.

Don't bet on it.

Why not?

'Cause she says show people are bad news.

Well, I guess I better be going.

So, have a good day.

See you later.

Terrific.

Our new neighbor's gonna run us out of business.

Well, I think I better go over and have a talk with Mrs. Stevens.

Must be some way to settle this.

Is your mom the kind who yells a lot?

No. No, she'll just

have a nice, civilized conversation with your mother.

Too bad.

Why?

'Cause your mom hasn't got a chance.

Coming.

Mrs. Stevens?

Yes. And you must be the lady next door.

Yes. Shirley Partridge.

Come in! I was expecting you.

You were expecting me?

Of course. I assume you're here

over this little matter of my calling the police.

I'm sure we can reach an understanding.

Oh, of course.

The solution is quite simple.

You don't play your music and I won't call the police.

I hope you don't mind if I hem these curtains while we talk.

There's so much to do on moving day.

Mrs. Stevens, we have to rehearse.

Music happens to be the way we make our living.

Oh, I know, I know.

And I wouldn't dream of standing in the way of your

"profession," shall we call it?

I get the feeling you'd rather call it something else.

Mrs. Partridge, there is no need to be defensive.

I'm sure your profession serves a multitude of good purposes.

After all, it does keep your children off the streets.

Uh-oh. I looks like Mom just blew a fuse.

Get...

What're you guys doing?

Watching the main event.

You can't do that!

Boy, Mom looks mad now.

Let me see.

She's smiling.

No, she's not. She's showing her teeth.

And that's why our music is important to us.

Don't get me wrong, Mrs. Partridge.

I mean you have every right to become a part of today's "bag," as they say.

But you must understand my position.

Which is?

When you're alone, it's not easy to raise two growing children.

What has our rehearsal got to do with your children?

Well, let me put it this way, Mrs. Partridge.

How would you like to raise your children next to a honky-tonk?

A honky-tonk?

What are you doing?

Can you make out what she's saying?

No. But I bet they're not exchanging recipes.

You're all peeping Toms.

You're invading their privacy.

Violating their constitutional rights.

I think Mom's reaching the boiling point.

Oh, no.

It's part of being little.

Yeah, I know.

How do you think Mom's doing?

I can sum it up in one word,

but there are children present.

I give up.

I have been as reasonable as any one person can be.

But, obviously, reason just doesn't work in this house.

Well, I'm sorry you feel that way, Mrs. Partridge,

but I have to do what I think is right.

I'm leaving, Mrs. Stevens.

And don't bother seeing me to the door.

I'll just let myself out.

Oh, by the way...

You've sewn the drapes to your pants.

Hi, Mom. How'd it go?

It didn't.

It looked like you didn't have a chance.

What do you mean, "looked"?

He didn't mean "looked," Mom. What he meant was...

Tell her what you meant, Danny.

Well, it just seemed to me that

any woman that would call the police would give you a hard time.

That's all.

Okay.

Besides, you sure got the last laugh

when she sewed her drapes to her...

pants.

We were just worried, Mom.

I understand.

Well, what are we gonna do?

We could always move to another town.

We're not moving. I'm sure that woman can be reached.

I just don't know how.

Well, I'm glad you called me, Shirley.

What can we do, Reuben?

Well, there are several alternatives.

Great. Let's hear them.

Number one. You could go ahead and rehearse without her permission.

That's what we'll have to do.

She'll just call the police again.

Right.

Then you could rent a rehearsal hall.

Expensive and inconvenient.

Then there's a way that is sneaky and underhanded.

Sounds good so far.

Just a moment.

Mom, we have to rehearse.

Well...

Maybe a little sneaky and underhanded?

What's your plan, Reuben?

You said she was unattached, right?

Right.