The Dark Shadows Daybook: OCTOBER 17

By PATRICK McCRAY

Taped on this date in 1967: Episode 346

Vicki dreams of being in Josette’s room with Barnabas. She wonders why she is there, and Barnabas answers by taking her to the bed, where Burke lies, tightly wrapped in a shroud. Carolyn wakes her from the nightmare, and the two are expressing gratitude for the other when Vicki speaks on the phone with the airline and learns… nothing. There is no news of Burke’s plane. At the Old House, Julia seethes with jealousy over the hold that Josette still has on Barnabas. She senses a presence that is the ghost of Dave Woodard, but that’s interrupted by a visiting Victoria, who reports that Barnabas is helping her to restore the west wing of Collinwood. Julia attacks her, stating that Barnabas has no time to help everyone who asks, and she is to leave him alone. Later at Collinwood, Barnabas visits and is shocked at Julia’s statements. Julia arrives to make up for it, but after Barnabas settles her hash in private, the flowers she brought have mysteriously died. Back at the Old House, Barnabas orders Julia to accelerate the conversion. Sensing that she might try to sabotage the treatments, he hammers home the point that while Vicki forgives, he doesn’t.

And why should he? I was about to write that this is another example of Barnabas at his darkest, but is it? There are probably a dozen ways that Julia could have kept Dave Woodard away from him, but her screw-ups made killing him a matter of survival. It’s not like there’s Vampire Probation and community service he could have been put on. No, Woodard was going to kill him. What choice had he? He didn’t ask for any of this. Meanwhile, the nicer he gets toward Willie, the less reliable Willie becomes. With total cowardice. God forbid that Willie be a man and simply stake Barnabas or smash the lid to his coffin. No, Willie seems to only do things that will lead to Barnabas’ lingering suffering, underlining his loneliness. Thanks, shmuck. And don’t even get me started on Julia. In the midst of so many small minds and their backstabbing reflexes, Barnabas has to go all Joshua on them in the humorless retribution department. What’s he supposed to do? Hug them? Man, Leo Buscaglia would have fared no better.

On this day in 1967, the Broadway musical, HAIR, opened for reals, having escaped from off-Broadway, proving that, yes, rock had a seemingly moral imperative to be everywhere. Now, nowhere was safe for snooty elitists who appreciated crisp melodies and dazzling wordplay. If they were lucky, they invested wisely so they could afford tickets to HAMILTON.