Crawdad Dip
S2 E11: The Garden Party
The Beverly Hillbillies, 1962.
The Beverly Hillbillies episode "Garden Party" is a riotous masterclass in social satire, powered by Paul Henning’s signature knack for turning cultural clashes into comedic gold.
What begins as Mrs. Drysdale’s attempt to host a proper Beverly Hills garden party devolves, predictably and gloriously, into a Clampett-led jamboree, complete with possum sausages, crawdad dip, and a dose of Granny’s moonshine masquerading as "punch." By the end, the entire guest list has defected to the Clampetts' "overflow" party by the cement pond, leaving Mrs. Drysdale fuming and her hibiscus still gasping for air.
The script, penned by Henning and Mark Tuttle, is a deft exploration of class and community, with the Clampetts’ authenticity once again trumping the Drysdales’ desperate pretensions. The writing shines in its dialogue, particularly Granny’s earnest yet hilariously misguided concern for Mrs. Drysdale’s "ailing hibiscus"—which she believes is a part of the human anatomy. Henning’s gift for creating characters who embody but never ridicule their origins is on full display, making the Clampetts lovable agents of chaos rather than mere bumpkins.
On the production side, the series capitalized on its unique use of outdoor sets, with the Clampetts’ "cement pond" (a swimming pool to the rest of us) becoming a central visual gag. The mansion itself—borrowed from oil tycoon Arnold Kirkeby—provides an ironic backdrop, emphasizing the juxtaposition between Beverly Hills opulence and backwoods simplicity. The party scenes are a logistical marvel for the time, involving hundreds of extras in period-accurate high-society attire mingling with the Clampetts' unapologetically homespun aesthetics.
What makes "Garden Party" enduringly hilarious is its gentle but unflinching critique of classist assumptions. The Clampetts, with their goodwill and gumption, become accidental social engineers, turning a stiff garden soiree into a raucous community celebration. Mrs. Drysdale, meanwhile, learns the hard way that the best-laid plans of high society can easily be upended by a rubber alligator and a jug of Granny’s finest. By the final yee-haw, one thing is clear: you can take the Clampetts out of the holler, but you can’t take the holler out of Beverly Hills.