The Era -- Day By Day

[Fading Fast]

"T'at Frank Leary," declares Mozelewski, "is awright." "Didja see Joe?" interrupts Miss Kaplan. "Did'ee ask about me?" "Anyways," continues Mozelewski, "he says t'me I do'wanna rent t'at shawp t'eh nexta his wife's canny stoeh, see. He says'ezza rat inneh, sezee seen it. A great big one wit' big eehs. So we don' wannat. 'Stead he says he knows a guy can get me a deal awna place on Flatbush Aveneh." "I hoid Joe was woikin' innat canny stoeh," interrupts Miss Kaplan. "I bet t'at wife 'a his is makin' 'im do it an' she's livin' onna fatta t' lamb. We gotta do sump'n." "We got a 'rangement woiked out, fifty fifty." continues Mozelewski, displaying a sheet of tablet paper covered in small figures. "See, I'm gonna be in chawrge'a t'shawp, an' Frank's gonna be whatchacawl'a outside man. He'll go 'roun an' say 't'ezzis guy on Flatbush Aveneh, Mozelewski a' Brooklyn, he d'signs dresses, see? Y'otta go see'im." "I ain't gonna be ya model," insists Miss Kaplan. "Flatbush Aveneh!" declares Mozelewski...

Dear Lord. Haven't seen two people talk right past each other more since George and his wife (whose name I forgot) in "The ****les."

******************************************************************

Ella is known for keeping her sense of humor even when -- ah -- stewing in a bathtub full of ink.

There's another vibe going on here too.

******************************************************************

I do wish Mr. Stamm would stop trying to out-Gould his old boss.

Scarlet's last thought as the blow lands on her jaw, "Dammit, forgot to make myself invisible."

******************************************************************

Jeeezuz.

Seriously. And couldn't the News have used "heavy-set" instead of "chubby?" There was something oddly extra chilling about the man passing the men working on the repairs from where the plane hit.

******************************************************************

"See t'eh?" insists Sally. "We gawt nut'n'ta worry about. T'eh gonna be usin' 'is radawr f'rawl kinds'a stuff, an'neh gonna need lotsa tubes f'rit!! I'm gonna be woikin'eh f't' nex' twennny yeehs!" "Ah," ahs Joe. "So," she continues, "maybe I OTTA sign up f'collitch. I mean, I do'wanna be onna cat'ode line awl my life. Maybe I c'n move upta grids. Awr plates. Awr quality c'ntrol! Awr coicuit design! T'sky's t' limit!" "Yeh," nods Joe. "Lissen, speakin'a coicuit design, d'you t'ink a grill would woik betteh onna left'a t' coffee oin awr t' right?" "Huh?" huhs Sally...

More people talking right past each other.

*******************************************************************

I think we've gone about as far with this as we possibly can.

That statement worked equally well two weeks ago and any day since. This entire Two-Ton "plot" has been awful.

*******************************************************************

Postwar underground lairs will be better than ever.

We know who's positioned for that market.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("A fifty paaarcent int'rest in Moozelewski's a' Brooklyn," scoffs Ma. "What d'YE knoo aboot dresses?" "Naaaht a blooody thing," admits Uncle Frank. "But this boy Moozelewski's gaaht talent. You seen f'ye'self that woon Oi rented farr ye New Yarr's Eve. Made'jee look loike Laaaana Taaaarnar." "Oi'll be boond," headshakes Ma. "Goo see Doctarr Levine, whoy doon'chee, get th' fam'ly rate." "An' it's a saaaahlid half in'trest," stresses Uncle Frank. "An' noo Solly Pincus t'stick 'is big eehs in an' take oovar th' ooperation." "You an' ye pal Lowrey," hmphs Ma, "saaaartainy got took f'ra roide. Why doonchee pool ye shares an' then Solly can't do noothin' withoot ye say so." "Oi ain't speakin' t' Lowrey," frowns Uncle Frank. "Him an' Solly is aaahl boody-boody now. Oi tell ye, Nora, Moozelewski's a' Brooklyn is got a broit future." "An' whatta YE goin' t'do?" demands Ma. "Be a dress doomy?" "Oi'm th' ootsoide man," puffs Uncle Frank. "Oi goo aroond an' -- talllk t'people, droom oop excitement." "Whoile Moozelewski does aaahl th' waaark," observes Ma. "Dressmakarrrr," quotes Uncle Frank, "stick t'ye pincooshin'." "Ploombar," returns Ma, "stick t'ye poipes....")

("It jus' seemed like t'bes' t'ing t'do," sighs Alice. "T' Fawteh was sittin'eh, an' awl I could t'ink of wazzat can a' gol' kerns inna clawset. I mean, I remembeh t'sistehs useta say if ya hide somp'n fr'm a Fawteh it's like lyin' t'Gawd. Maybe I tol' a few fibs -- um -- in me time, but I dowanna get mixed up in no foehty-eight hunnet' dolleh whoppeh, s'pecial if -- well -- Gawd's inna pitcheh." "Perhaps," shrugs Mrs. Ginsburg, "Mrs. Nucci would have wanted." "Y't'ink maybe t'at really was 'eh money?" Alice wonders. "What if Marie Belasco a' Mickey a' somebody we don' even know 'bout shows up lookin' f'rit?" "It is not here," observes Mrs. Ginsburg. "You can say, and the truth you are telling." "An' nobody knows nut'n about it but t't'ree of us," sighs Alice. "I tol' Willie an' Leonoreh, y'know, t'at it wasn' real, like pokeh chips. T'at's anoteh fib, I guess." "Mmm," nods Mrs. Ginsburg. "Y'know," concludes Alice, "t'is bein' hawnes' sueh has a lotta fibbin' in it." "Mendel would say," notes Mrs. Ginsburg, "all the time we fib. We say 'zehr gut,' even when the soup is sour. So not to hurt. Sometimes to do the big thing right, the little thing, maybe we do a little wrong." "I t'ink maybe Gawd'll unnehstan'," sighs Alice. "One should hope," agrees Mrs. Ginsburg...)

(Mr. Lichty clearly has no shortage of postwar material lined up for us.)

(Tom Dunn? He's no Meathead Magerkurth, but give him time...)

(See, April, THIS is how you do it.)

(GUILT is written all over your -- ah -- end table...)

("Why's ev'rybody lookin' at ME???" -- Bink Scanlan.)

(I don't know what it was that sent Mr. Stamm down this particular stream, but I wish he'd come ashore...)

(Of course you realize....)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

New York's Picture Newspaper...

Your first look (continued...)

So's somebody else...

Veteran? "Coming Events..."

C'mon, I thought the war's over.

"Please forward to Mrs. H. Peck, General Delivery, Reno, Nev."

"Amatchoor." -- Bink Scanlan.

Greasing the wheels.

"Joik." -- S. Pincus.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And also...

The Friends of Frankie Germano would like a word with you, Mr. Dunn...

And in the Daily Worker....

"Whozat?" queries Leonora, bobbing her head in an attempt to see between the thick rows of people in front of her. "T'at's t'gal wrote t' letteh t' t'at rat Bilbo," explains Sally. "Shh, lissen t'what she's sayin'." As Miss Josephine Piccolo exhorts the crowd, a figure carrying a brown paper bag winds his way thru the throng. "Hey Sal," calls out Joe, recognizing her in a middle row. Sally twists around to locate the source of the voice, spots her husband approaching and beckons him over. "Hey Sal," he repeats. "Heeh, I brung ya some san'wiches fr'm Toomey's. Din' know if t'ey'd have food at t'is t'ing a' not." "Oh," whispers Sally, indicating by her tone that he should lower his voice. "You come awlaway up heeh wit' sanwiches?" "Yeh," he nods, handing over the bag, as he cranes his neck for a view of the speakers' stand. Whozat tawkin?" "Josephine Piccolo," repeats Sally. "You know, t'gal told awff Bilbo." "Oh yeh," nods Joe. "Jeez, she's jus' a kid." "Shhh," hisses Leonora. "I'm lissenin'." As the speech continues, Sally notices her husband glancing at the patrolmen standing on either side of the speaker's platform, and then sees his eyes flicking furtively toward her handbag. "S'awright, Joe," she chuckles. "I din' bring no brick." "SHHHH," hisses Leonora....

 

[Fading Fast]

"A fifty paaarcent int'rest in Moozelewski's a' Brooklyn," scoffs Ma. "What d'YE knoo aboot dresses?" "Naaaht a blooody thing," admits Uncle Frank. "But this boy Moozelewski's gaaht talent. You seen f'ye'self that woon Oi rented farr ye New Yarr's Eve. Made'jee look loike Laaaana Taaaarnar." "Oi'll be boond," headshakes Ma. "Goo see Doctarr Levine, whoy doon'chee, get th' fam'ly rate." "An' it's a saaaahlid half in'trest," stresses Uncle Frank. "An' noo Solly Pincus t'stick 'is big eehs in an' take oovar th' ooperation." "You an' ye pal Lowrey," hmphs Ma, "saaaartainy got took f'ra roide. Why doonchee pool ye shares an' then Solly can't do noothin' withoot ye say so." "Oi ain't speakin' t' Lowrey," frowns Uncle Frank. "Him an' Solly is aaahl boody-boody now. Oi tell ye, Nora, Moozelewski's a' Brooklyn is got a broit future." "An' whatta YE goin' t'do?" demands Ma. "Be a dress doomy?" "Oi'm th' ootsoide man," puffs Uncle Frank. "Oi goo aroond an' -- talllk t'people, droom oop excitement." "Whoile Moozelewski does aaahl th' waaark," observes Ma. "Dressmakarrrr," quotes Uncle Frank, "stick t'ye pincooshin'." "Ploombar," returns Ma, "stick t'ye poipes...."

What % does Frank own in the surplus biz? He should embrace Solly, let him do it all, and just collect his % as I don't see Solly cheating him. Sometimes, you get lucky despite yourself. He might just end up making money in the dress biz too. Overall, the economy was very forgiving post war.

****************************************************************

I don't know what it was that sent Mr. Stamm down this particular stream, but I wish he'd come ashore...

Agreed, plus, as you always say, "HEY KIDS, COMICS."

****************************************************************

New York's Picture Newspaper...

It's far from the most dramatic story, even in just today's paper, but man, that kid Martin really jilted that young woman Furbish as the story is written. If true, it's worth one follow-up article with a few more details.

*****************************************************************

"Amatchoor." -- Bink Scanlan. for Tears."

Poor Breathless, had she just added a few more discrete legs to her escape journey, she might have made it. Now she's just Lizabeth Scott's character celebrating her escape with the money too early in "Too Late for Tears."

******************************************************************

"S'awright, Joe," she chuckles. "I din' bring no brick."

Phew.

 

[LizzieMaine]

Frank and Lowrey each have 25 percent of "Sergeant Solly's Surplus," and Solly has 50. And now, Frank also has 50 percent of Mozelewski's. "HEY!" bellows Miss Kaplan. "WHAT ABOUT ME????"

 

[Fading Fast]

Frank and Lowrey each have 25 percent of "Sergeant Solly's Surplus," and Solly has 50. And now, Frank also has 50 percent of Mozelewski's. "HEY!" bellows Miss Kaplan. "WHAT ABOUT ME????"

Frank should shut up and take his 25% of the profits that Solly is going to grow nicely. Again, sometimes despite your best efforts, you get lucky.

Miss Kaplan would really benefit from seeing Dr. Levine.

 

[LizzieMaine]

Dr. Levine will do well in the postwar era just from our little bunch alone...

 

[LizzieMaine]

("An'nen 'e says t'me, 'why don' YOU go t' collitch?'" relates Sally. "An'nat kin'a -- well, it got me t'inkin'." "As well it might," nods Doctor Levine. "Y'know," Sally continues, "when I graduated outa Erasmus -- I tol' ya I went'a Erasmus, right?" "I believe you may have mentioned it," acknowledges the Doctor. "Well, see," resumes Sally, "see, whenney was stawrt'n'at Brooklyn Collitch up, t'ey said it was free to go, right? If ya had t'grades t'qualify. An' I did, I done real well in school, y'know, 'cept in depoehtmen', but t'ey don'caeh nut'n'aboutat in collitch, right? I mean, you went, you know what goes awn innem places. But anyways, I t'ought I'd kinda like t'get in awnat. But Ma, she wouldn' let me. Said it was a bad influence an' I'd get in trouble. C'n ya beat t'at?" "Mm," comments the Doctor. "Tell me this. What would you have liked to have studied?" "Well," exhales Sally. "Public speakin' maybe. I gotta good verce, I don' need no microphones a'nut'n. I mean, I was at t'is t'ing yestehday f't' En' Jim Crow in Basebawl, up t'eh t' t' Poleh Groun's. An' I'm lissenin' t't' people up t'eh tawkin' an' t'inkin' 'T'at could be me up t'eh, I could do t'at.'" "You might be very good at it," encourages the Doctor, "with a bit of training." "But t'en, y'know, I been woikin' f't' phone comp'ny goin' awn t'ree yeehs now, an' I picked up a whole lotta stuff 'bout radio an'awlat. Maybe I could study t'at too. I jus' dunno if I c'n pick one t'ing. Who knows, maybe I could loin t'do what YOU do." "Anything's possible," shrugs the Doctor....)

("T'is izza place," declares Mozelewski, gesturing around the dust-laden shop, old tarps thrown over its display counters, the walls dappled with streaks of sun piercing gaps in the whitewash coating the windows. "It don' look like much," scoffs Miss Kaplan. "Whassis onna flooeh? Huh, a punchboehd. Musta been a real classy jernt." "T'at don' matteh," enthuses Mozelewski, peeling off his jacket and rolling up his sleeves. "It don' matteh what ya stawrt wit', it mattehs whatcha end up wit'. We'eh gonna get awl kindsa traffic -- y'got t' Patio Theateh oveh t'eh, an'na Dragon's Den oveh t'eh. An' awlem people goin' innem places gonna go right by heeh. An' I'm gonna put me design studio inna back t'eh, an' weeh gonna have a big glass windeh, see, so people c'n look in an' see me sitt'nat t' drawrin' boehd. An'nel be a sewin' machine, an' a cutt'n table, 'nawalt stuff. Y'know how, y'go t' somea t'ese restehr'nts y'c'n see right inna kitchen? T'is is gonna be jus' like t'at. Hawt Coutchoor, but Brooklyn style, get it? It'll knock 'em onneh eeh." "Well," insists Miss Kaplan, taking it all in, "I ain' gonna be ya model! I ain' gonna be ya model f'less'n toity-five bucks a week!")

(Never mind Feller, when can we expect Reiser, Reese, Lavagetto, Herman, and Higbe?)

(Red Head, Pink Cloud -- it's a pity we only get this in black and white.)

Daffy Duck congratulates himself every day for not signing on to do this strip.

The Bushmillers just bought a house and had a really really bad experience with the realtor.

(I think I've seen that opera.)

(You dislike interloping? You're in the wrong line of work, toots.)

(I bet Mr. Gable learned a great deal from knocking at John Barrymore's door.)

(Y'know, these comic strip gals need to learn to carry and use a ******.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

"Hmmmmm," ponders Shaughnessy the Butcher, trying to recall what it was like to deal with an ample supply....

Nah, they're just wondering when we'll get a better storyline in "Terry."

"Ya don't need none'a t'at finesse, ya just dip inneh an' go!" -- Bink

Looks like a perfect match to me...

And away we go....

On the other hand, some anxiety medication might do him a world of good.

Gus took a long time drawing this one...

That Awkward Age...

You should meet his brothers Meshach and Abednego.

You didn't think he was doing this for laughs, did you?

 

[LizzieMaine]

And also...

Well, it beats "Screeno."

"Whattaya mean y'didn' get t' truck fixed yet?" sputters Solly. "We gotta get movin'!" "Well," squirms Uncle Frank, "I found th' paaarts, boot th' man says tharrr ain't noothin' left t' screw th' paaarts oonta...."

And in the Worker...

Tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick....

 

[Fading Fast]

"You might be very good at it," encourages the Doctor, "with a bit of training."



*****************************************************************

I think I've seen that opera.

Craig Stevens and Alexis Smith were married for 49 years until his death and it was the first and only marriage for both – a very atypical Hollywood story.

*****************************************************************

I bet Mr. Gable learned a great deal from knocking at John Barrymore's door.

You picture a conga line of bootleggers and chorines streaming by young Mr. Gable.

How is it possible that in all these years of reading about Crosby and Sinatra, I never read that Crosby, via his friendship with Sinatra's dad, helped to finance Frank's musical training? Is that really true? I'm skeptical.

*****************************************************************

And away we go....

Arf = "And I was so close to having my own strip."

****************************************************************

Well, it beats "Screeno."

I have a feeling there was some selective reporting to make this story fit a certain picture.

 

[LizzieMaine]

Frankieeeeeeee never had any formal musical education, and his dad was a canvasback prizefighter in Hoboken while Bing was a rising talent out on the Coast, so I'd be real shocked to discover they ever intersected at all.

Bing probably did at least know of Frank's cousin Ray Sinatra, who led a house band at NBC New York in the mid-thirties, but because Bing was based in Hollywood they would have had little interaction.

Honestly. If you can't trust Sunday-supplement comic strip facts, what facts CAN you trust?

 

[LizzieMaine]

("T'at was a pretty good soivice t' Fawteh done out t' cemetery yestehday f' Misses Nucci," reflects Alice. "Yeh," nods Sally, gazing out at the rippling darkness of the tunnel. "Sad t'ough," continues Alice. "Us fr'm t' buildin', we was t' on'y ones 'eh." "Guess we was," nods Sally, "t'on'y fam'ly she had left. Even'ough she din' even like us." "Guess'ez a lotta fam'lies like 'at," comments Alice. "I guess I'm lucky." "Whatchamean?" wonders Sally. "Well," Alice continues, "Mos' people's stuck wit' t' fam'ly t'ey gawt, y'know? I neveh had no fam'ly like'at, so I got t'pick me own." "Huh," huhs Sally. "I done pretty good, huh?" Alice adds. "Yeh," nods Sally, as the train emerges into the morning sunlight. "Ya done awright...")

("Sooo," ventures Uncle Frank, gazing up at Mozelewski briskly applying a paint roller to the shop wall. "Ye coomin' alaaang, aare ye?" "Oh yeh," Mozelewski replies. "We got t'is Kem Tone stuff, comes inna jawr, ya mix it up wit' wawteh, an' goes right awn. Don' take no time at awl t'dry. An' I mixed up t'coleh meself. Pretty good, huh. T'at's whatcha cawl ya dusty mauve." "Awful restful," chimes in Miss Kaplan, snapping around the shop with a folding ruler as she makes notes in a Big Chief tablet. "Have Oi had th' pleasure?" smiles Uncle Frank, roistering his charm. "Francis X. Leary at yaaaar saaarvice." "Ya Joe's fawrteh'rin'lawr, aincha?" replies Miss Kaplan. "Ya wife'sa one runs'at canny stoeh? W'eh Joe woiks? He otta be t'manageh. Y'needa fix'at. An' tellat wife'a his t'leave me alone. I seen'eh t'at time downa dock when Joe come in, she gimme t' high hat. Whos'hee think she is? Yeah, you gotta do sump'nabout'tat. Kaplan's a name. I woiked two yeehs at Sperry's an'ney jus' laid me awff jus' like'at. Izzat faieh? Please'ta meetcha." "Ah," ahs Uncle Frank.....)

(Still Too Soon.)

("Hiya, Stomach Pump," greets Solly, breezing up to the counter. "Frank aroun'?" "Move ya head," smirks Bink. "He might be oveh t'eh, I can't see past'cha eehs." "Hey, I was t'inkin," offers Solly. "I got nut'na do t'night, an' gawd knows what kin'a mess you was gonna get into. Y'wanna go see a pitcheh? T'ey got some Ronal' Colman t'ing oveh't Patio, he awrways puts me t'sleep, an' I need t'rest." "Huh," huhs Bink, taken aback by the offer. "Yeh, why nawt. Might be a good chance t' do some biz...-- lissen, you a deep sleepeh?" "What?" "Nut'n...")

(Wait Till Next Year!)

(Yeah, if Annie had a big sister...)

(One swift kick, hon, and make it count.)

(Jane's FBI too? Jeez, these guys work fast.)

(It isn't the most impressive super power, but it does come in handy.)

(You know, Trix is a jerk, but at least he doesn't get locked up all night in a cellar.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

You go to the Polo Grounds, what do you expect?

Tick tick tick tick tick tick tick....

She used up her bravado quota for the year.

Don't they teach you in the CIC that every underground lair has a self-destruct switch?

Little late, folks.

He even knew Mrs. Langford.

Next street over's just as bad.

"Don't forget the gravy."

All right, let's get it over with.

Hey, keep that move, they'll love at the St. Nicholas Arena.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And also...

("...um, and world peace too.")

Hey, look who's back.

And in the Worker...

"I'm inneh someplace. Look closeh." -- Sally.

 

[Fading Fast]

"I done pretty good, huh?" Alice adds. "Yeh," nods Sally, as the train emerges into the morning sunlight. "Ya done awright..."

The best part is she appreciates it.

And separately, "...members of the surrender delegation...," makes it sound almost like a good thing. It's amazing what word choice can do.

***************************************************************

"Ya Joe's fawrteh'rin'lawr, aincha?" replies Miss Kaplan. "Ya wife'sa one runs'at canny stoeh? W'eh Joe woiks? He otta be t'manageh. Y'needa fix'at. An' tellat wife'a his t'leave me alone. I seen'eh t'at time downa dock when Joe come in, she gimme t' high hat. Whos'hee think she is? Yeah, you gotta do sump'nabout'tat. Kaplan's a name. I woiked two yeehs at Sperry's an'ney jus' laid me awff jus' like'at. Izzat faieh? Please'ta meetcha."

Christ, breathe woman.

***************************************************************

Y'wanna go see a pitcheh?

I get he's no looker, but he can do better now (the woman is carrying another man's baby, for God's sake, and he knows that) and will be able to do much better once the dough starts flowing in.

***************************************************************

Yeah, if Annie had a big sister...

Wow, is she going to drown her!?

***************************************************************

Don't they teach you in the CIC that every underground lair has a self-destruct switch?

"It's our number-one most popular feature" — Sales rep for Basements 'r Us, Secret-Lair division.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("You said t'ey wasn' gonna lay nobody awff," reminds Alice. "An' what'tey jus' do? Laid awff evr'ybody woiks 'eeh ain' been 'eeh at leas' a yeeh. Y'know how many people'at IS?" "Mus' be t'ousan's,' scowls Sally. "T'union ain' gonna take'at sitt'n down." Sally regards her peanut butter and cheese sandwich as she collects her thoughts. "Awr -- maybe we WILL take 'it sit'n down. Like we done at Woolwoit's in t'oity-seven!" "Dinchoo get arrested?" reminds Alice. "Dinchoo get arrested f't'rowin' a brick at a cawp?" "He haddit comin'," growls Sally. "T'is ain' oveh. t'is ain' no aiehplane fact'ry, it'sa gawdam Bell System. I'm gonna tawk t't' shawp stewe'd. An'nen we'll see if..." A sudden squawk from the public address horn interrupts her manifesto. "Attention please," crackles a featureless voice. "Alice Krause, report to the section manager's office. Alice Krause, report to the section manager's office. That is all." "Uh oh," blanches Alice. "I'll go witcha," insists Sally. "In case t'ey..." "Neh," declines Alice, closing her lunch box, and pulling herself to her feet. "It ain' nut'n. I'll be right back." "I'm goin' witcha," repeats Sally, a flush creeping up past the collar of her work shirt. "It's OK, Sal," halts Alice, in a low, even tone. With a deep breath, she starts across the floor...)

("I t'ink we c'n open t'marra," declares Solly Pincus, gazing up at the newly hung sign over the door of 505 Rogers Avenue. A grinning cartoon face with big-but-not-too-big ears jutting below a jaunty overseas cap declares the presence of Sergeant Solly's Surplus. "Howcome ya gotta pitchehr'a Clawrk Gable up t'eh?" snickers Bink Scanlan. "T'at's s'posta be ME," snorts Solly. "Lucky f'you," scoffs Bink. "If Clawrk Gable seen'at he'd sue ya." "Hey Frank," shouts Solly thru the half-open door. "When y'finish openin'nem las' crates, let's get t'is windeh fixed up. I wanna big d'splay'a t'em radios, an' maybe take a coupla t'em shelteh halves an' set'm up f'ra tent. Get some'a t'at mess geeh, one'a t'em sleepin' bags, an' make it look like campin', y'know?" "Oi doon't noo noothin' boot campin'," scowls Uncle Frank, his face florid and sweating, and his shirt soggy. "You will," chuckles Solly, rocking back on his heels with satisfaction...)

(No end for the paper shortage in sight.)

(Sigh. I've said it before, and will say it forever. If Enos Slaughter went in the Army six months earlier, Pete Reiser would be the greatest baseball player who ever lived.)

("I would not take CANDY from a baby!" -- Leo.)

(Who needs Punjab?)

(Oh, it's a golf trophy. For a second I thought she was going to brain him with an Oscar.)

("Hey, what happened to that secretary? And why was she just whistling 'The South American Way?'")

(Spike heels, yet. That's gonna hurt.)

(You've got to respect a milk company that sticks up for its drivers, especially at 5 AM.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

"....Cause I ride the range in a Ford V-8, yippee-ay-yo-ki-yay....."

"And stay off my lawn!"

"Oh, you know, a few of the boys. Bill Slagg for example. He's great!"

Little too late for that, isn't it?

Careful now, Breathless. You didn't do so well last time.

"So he can lie awake all night complaining he can't sleep."

You really need to put a deadbolt on that door.

"Will Alec Smart please report to the personnel office..."

What, no Indian chief?

Any lunch counter would hire him in a second.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And also...

There's a new world coming....