The Era -- Day By Day

[Fading Fast]

"The wicked, Sameleh," he quotes, "shall fall by his own wickedness." "Y't'ink?" sighs Sammy. "Look around," counsels Mr. Ginsburg. "It has been known to heppen..."

Let's hope Flannery is on that list.

I love Mr. Ginsburg like I do Alice, simply for who they are.

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Marie Dressler -- or Wallace Beery?

Closer to Dressler

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Whatever became of Lyric Layne?

It's hard to believe how bad this strip has become. It used to be quite engaging.

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Hey Sal, if you get bored, here's a new hobby for you!

It worked to save the day in "Love Finds Andy Hardy" (1938)

 

[LizzieMaine]

I think the decline in Mary Worth started to set in hard around the time a year or two back when it stopped actively being *about* Mary and her family. Before that you had Leona and Angel Varden, and so on, but they were actively involved with Mary and company, and they had personalities of their own that didn't depend on the love affair of the moment. Remember Leona and her pirate act -- that wasn't "to get a man," that was to make money to help herself and Mary and Bill and the kids get by.

We don't get that anymore. Every story since Mary left the family behind has been completely interchangeable: brash snappy-talking woman with a hidden agenda and dopey brooding hunk. Dale Connor quit drawing the strip because she didn't like the direction Allen Saunders was taking it, and events since then have repeatedly proven her right.

Mr. Saunders ought to take a tip from "Jane Arden." The stories there are often repetitious too, but Jane's no simpering fool, and her sharpness makes up for a lot of the B-movie plotting. There isn't a character in Mary Worth since 1943 that I'd give the time of day.

 

[Fading Fast]

I think the decline in Mary Worth started to set in hard around the time a year or two back when it stopped actively being *about* Mary and her family. Before that you had Leona and Angel Varden, and so on, but they were actively involved with Mary and company, and they had personalities of their own that didn't depend on the love affair of the moment. Remember Leona and her pirate act -- that wasn't "to get a man," that was to make money to help herself and Mary and Bill and the kids get by.

We don't get that anymore. Every story since Mary left the family behind has been completely interchangeable: brash snappy-talking woman with a hidden agenda and dopey brooding hunk. Dale Connor quit drawing the strip because she didn't like the direction Allen Saunders was taking it, and events since then have repeatedly proven her right.

Mr. Saunders ought to take a tip from "Jane Arden." The stories there are often repetitious too, but Jane's no simpering fool, and her sharpness makes up for a lot of the B-movie plotting. There isn't a character in Mary Worth since 1943 that I'd give the time of day.

That all seems smart and accurate to me. Saunders should go back and read his early stuff for inspiration as he obviously has better writing and storylines in himself, he's just lost his way. Heck, right now, even Bo is doing a better job telling us the same story each week (no offense, Bo).

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Awright," pronounces Sally, convening the meeting in the Ginsburgs' parlor. She looks around the room and notes an absence. "Weh's Uncle Frank? He said 'e was comin'." "He wen' oveh t't' City again," explains Joe. "Havin' anot'eh lunch wit' t'is guy he knows." "Hmph," hmps Sally. "But," continues Joe, "he said 'e was copacetic wit' t'at ideeh you had 'bout sendin' one'a t' boys oveh'reeh t'wawtch out f' Sammy in case anybody tries anyt'ing funny." "Good," nods Sally. "Make sueh it's Danny, t'ough. Jimmy's an idiot. Awr moerh'v'n idiot, anyways. Awright. Solly. You said you was gonna put a tail on Flannehry. Whatcha find out?" "Enough," nods Solly. "I know most'a t'stawry, but nawt awlluvit. I'm goin' back up t'eh t'night, see'f I c'n pump sump'n out'a t'is goon he was woikin' wit'. Heeza one swiped y' poice, 'n I'm gonna see'f I c'n pin 'im down awna details." "Be caehful," warns Sally. "Te'm kin'a people play f'keeps." "Y'wawnt me t'go alawng?" offers Alice. Heads twist in her direction. "I mean," she fumbles, "y'know -- um, it don' look r'spectable, a guy drinkin' alone, s'w I could be ya -- um -- exscoeht." "Neh," urges Krause. "I wouldn' hoit 'nobody," Alice mutters. "Jus' shake 'im up a lit'l." "I gawt sump'n else I'm woikin' awn," adds Solly. "Frank's in awn it too, an' I gotta have a coupla moeh people." He looks around the room. "Missis G," he nods. "You, f'one." "Me?" gapes Mrs. Ginsburg. "Yeh," nods Solly. "Me, Mendel?" she stammers, turning to her husband. "For what could I?" "Would it hoit to listen?" shrugs Mr. Ginsburg. He turns to Solly. "We'll discuss." "Awright," Solly exhales. "I need anot'eh poisson. Anot'eh woman." Alice starts to stand, but Solly shakes his head. "Flannehry knows ya," dismisses Solly. "Dincha say he was follehrin' you aroun' back when you'n Krause was gonna get married, tried t' roon ya weddin'?" "Awright," interrupts Sally, "I'm in. Whatcha wawnt me t'do? "Nah," replies Solly. "Ev'ry cop innis town knows YOU. But," he continues, "t'ez somebody Flannehry don't know, t'at don' live aroun'eeh, t'at he wouldn' know fr'm Eve." He pauses for effect. "Bink Scanlan." Sally frowns. "Can we trust 'eh?" she demands. Solly pauses to consider. "Enough," he declares, "f' what I gawt in mind...")

("Ahhh, it's been foine catchin oop with ye again, Frank," nods Inspector McLuhan, pushing back from the Childs' Restaurant table. "Wharr have th' years gaaaahn," chuckles Uncle Frank, gazing over his lunch companion's shoulder into Lexington Avenue. "You, a moockety-mook in Intarrnal Affairs. That's loike givin' th' fox th' keys t' th' henhoose." "Shoosh," snickers McLuhan, placing his finger to his lips. "Oi'll have t' investigate me'self." The Inspector chuckles as he picks up the lunch check and produces a pen. "Woon'a th' advantages a' me poosition," he grins as he applies his signature. "An expense accoont." He flicks a glance at his watch. "Oi hate t' eat an' roon," he apologizes, "boot Oi gaaaht a meet'n with th' coommisionarr. We ain't quoite got 'im trained yet! Lissen, could'jee take this check oop t'th cashier, she'll knoo what t'do with it." "Happy t'do it, Johnny" nods Uncle Frank, with a beatific smile. As McLuhan exits the restaurant and melts into the midtown crowd, Uncle Frank regards the signature on the check. With a smile of immense satisfaction, he withdraws his wallet from his inside pocket, neatly folds the slip and places it inside. He then picks out a five dollar bill and lays it before the cashier, whistling serenely....)

("And best of all, the new parts aren't quite interchangeable!")

(Reiser's getting out of the Army? Better hold onto the damage deposit.)

(I fell down the stairs the other day and I didn't get any big salary for doing it!)

(You were expecting maybe Tess Trueheart?)

(Well that was easy. What are you going to do the rest of the day?)

(Not only does she have amnesia, she snores!)

(Philanthropy.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News....

"Wellllll noooo," oozes Shaughnessy the Butcher. "It's gooood t'see ye again, Mavis, m'dear...." "That's 'Mrs. Doyle,'" she snaps, "to you!"

The sanctity of the amateur game.

Baron Von "extermination war?" Well, at least it isn't "rice wine wacky."

There's one on every flight.

"All right then. First, we find a c r a p game..."

Ah, the Snork Club. Say hello to Herman Billingsley.

Repent at leisure.

I thought all the lawyers quit? C'mon Bim, we know it's the Correct Time Lady on the other end of that phone...

"Well, we know Itchy was never a Girl Scout..."

After all, geraniums are hard to come by in November.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And also...

Poor, poor Bummy...

 

[Fading Fast]

"Make sueh it's Danny, t'ough. Jimmy's an idiot. Awr moerh'v'n idiot, anyways.



"Ev'ry cop innis town knows YOU.



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"Wellllll noooo," oozes Shaughnessy the Butcher. "It's gooood t'see ye again, Mavis, m'dear...." "That's 'Mrs. Doyle,'" she snaps, "to you!"

Good God.

Separately, despite all the old movie I've seen, I had to look Claire James up as I had never heard of her. She appeared in 60 movies and TV shows spanning six decades, but the vast majority of them were in uncredited roles. How does one even keep a career like that going?

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"All right then. First, we find a c r a p game..."

My God is this not well thought out. I expect more from Skeezix.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("I tawked it oveh wit' Sal," notes Alice, "an' she t'inks it'll woik. An' yeah, sometimes she t'inks t'ing's'll woik t'at don' end up woikin', but'is time..." "Never have I done," flusters Mrs. Ginsburg. "An actress I should be, at my age. Am I Molly Picon that I should go on the stage maybe?" "Look, Mame G," calms Alice. "I know ya noivous. But Solly 'splained how it's gonna woik. Ya jus' stan' at t' coun'eh when Bink Scanlan brings 'im in, an' ya say t' Misteh Schreibstein 'nem t'ings we tol' ya. T'at's awl ya gotta do. Ev'ryt'ing else is gonna take caehr'vi't self." "But why me, I ask?" sighs Mrs. Ginsburg. "Can't Sally --?" "Flannehry sees 'eh," insists Alice, "it's awl awff. He's scaiet'v'eh. He oughteh be. Y'know t'at night t'ey brung 'eh in an' show'd'eh Sammy inna jail cell awl beat up? Two guys hadda pull 'eh off Flannehry. Joe hadda go down'eh'rn gett'eh. Y'know how t'ey said inna papeh 'bout t'at pug Bummy Davis, how'eed see red? She tol' me t'at's what hapn'ta her. S'wondeh t'ey din' t'row t'book at'eh. Maybe some'a t'em cawps can't stan' Flannehry neit'eh. But anyways, Sal ain''t t 'one t'do t'is. It's gawtta be somebody t'at -- ain' Sal. T'at's you." "I have known Sameleh since a baby," exhales Mrs. Ginsburg. "I babysat. Changed his diaper. Fed him cake. For him, I shall do." "At'sa way," grins Alice. "Who could imagine," sighs Mrs. G. "An actress....")

("Well now," greets Uncle Frank, sweeping grandly thru the glistening chrome-and-glass doors of Mozelewski's of Brooklyn. "Annd hooo are we ahhl aaahn this foine aftarnoon." "T'at chow mein," frowns Miss Kaplan, "was punk. Too much mein an' nawt enuff chow, if ya get me t'inkin'..." "Ahhh," snickers Mozelewski, "t'at's why ya still got a bag of it inna 'frigehrateh. Aftehnoon, Frank, we'eh jus' gett'na decorations up. Season's Greet'ns an' awlat." "Ah," nods Uncle Frank. "And where is Mr. Quinlan?" "Um," ums Mozelewski. "He fell awffa stepladdeh hangin' up t'em lights 'roun'a windeh. Sprain't 'is awrm a'sump'n, he's inna back rubbin' it wit' erntmen' a'sump'n." "It wasn't his -- ah -- wroitin' arm," hesitates Uncle Frank. "Was it?" "Nah," nahs Mozelewski. "He's awrways real caehful 'bout t'at. He fawls down 'e twists aroun' like a cat an' lands onneh ot'eh side. Neveh seen nut'n like it." "Thaaat's very foine," smiles Uncle Frank, withdrawing a brown envelope from his inner pocket. "Oi have a bit of an -- assoinment farr Mr. Quinlan. Would'jee be soo koind as t' give him this when he cooms back oot. He'll foind all th' details insoide." "Sueh," shrugs Mozelewski, slipping the envelope into his own pocket, as Miss Kaplan gives him a curious squint. "Advoise Mr. Quinlan," instructs Uncle Frank, "Oi shall require th' necessary document by t'marra." "Yeh," nods Mozelewski. "What's..." "Ooh, let's joost say," chuckles Uncle Frank, "soom'v'oos are gonna poot aaahnn a bit of an -- intertainment....")

(I'm no judge of horses, but I'm pretty sure I'd bet a crisp two dollar bill on a horse named "Stymie.")

(Sorry you can't get those pictures developed today, the drugstore's closed on Sunday.)

(Let's let Bugs walk away with what he can salvage of his dignity and turn the whole strip over to the horse.)

("Rex Swoony.")

(You try to hurt a cat, you deserve everything you get.)

(This is going to be another one of these sick, unsettling Sunday stories, isn't it? Get ahold of yourself, Mr. Stamm.)

(I'd listen every week to "At Ease With The Atlees," especially if they gave the kitten a speaking part.)

(All of you are vile.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

I do not predict future happiness for Irene Van Heusen Bihn Fereira.

And this gal ought to get wised up too.

No wonder Jerome Kern died.

Didn't think to cover the other end of the tunnel? DUMB RUBES.

Japanese spies were always very good at tennis. And -- ANOTHER CLIP SHOW??? Can somebody check on Mr. Caniff? Has he started drinking?

Psst, shoe rationing is over.

Two words, Emmy -- Beef Sandwiches.

You know, you don't have to build a literal bridge. And Langley Field? Smilin' Jack a founding member of the CIA? But I though those guys never smiled.

Oh well, maybe Corky will go in the furniture business.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Worker....

A righteous man.

I think I saw this movie.

 

[Fading Fast]

"Rex Swoony."

There's a slight but noticeable parallel-universe feel to Bushmiller's world. It feels like earth 1945, but not quite. It's like the "Star Trek" episode – things are very similar but off in observable ways.

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You try to hurt a cat, you deserve everything you get.

Long story, but the short of it is my girlfriend and her mom (she's staying with her right now owing to her mom's health issues) are fostering a cat that was abandoned by its family when the dad died of cancer and he was the only one who loved the cat. We found the cat crying outside their house they had left locked up weeks ago. He was skin and bones. Several vet visits later and several weeks of care and feeding and Max is on the mend. He's a sweetheart. These are not people you would think could be cruel, but they just put a house cat (who had never been in the wild) out in the woods and left (and told the neighbors they were "done with it").

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All of you are vile.

And in such an unimportant way.

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I do not predict future happiness for Irene Van Heusen Bihn Fereira.

Agreed, but while not a top-ten, she does at least have a solid Page 4 name.

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And -- ANOTHER CLIP SHOW??? Can somebody check on Mr. Caniff? Has he started drinking?

So you're not buying his "pinups for the GI's for Thanksgiving" story? Oh, and I had forgotten all about Rouge.

 

[LizzieMaine]

Fostering a cat is the height of righteousness. Please pass that along.

Ernie Bushmiller is actually one of the most-studied cartoonists of the 20th Century, for exactly rhe reasons you describe. His work on both "Fritzi Ritz" and "Nancy" has never quite been matched by any of his successors, because he operated under disciplines that only he himself fully understood. Bill Griffith, creator of Zippy the Pinhead and a devoted Bushmiller scholar, recently published a graphic biography of Bushmiller that's well worth a read. He talks about the book and his thoughts on Bushmiller's vision here.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Y'wawn' me t' what??" gapes Bink Scanlan. "I knew YOU was nuts," she glares at Sally, "but I t'ought YOU," she adds, firing a scowl at Solly Pincus, "hadda little bitta sense." "Look," exhales Sally. "We ain' askin' ya t'do t'is f'rus. Do it f' Sammy. You met 'im. He's a good kid. Y'wan' he should go t' Sing Sing?" "T'ey don' sen' kids t'Sing Sing," she scoffs. "Elmira, t'en," snaps Solly. "T'is kid's whole life could be roont 'causa t'is doity cawp jus' tryin' t'make a pernt." "What's nex," snickers Bink. "T'rowin' bricks?" "I tol'ya she wouldn' do it," fumes Sally. "Look, what if I take awff my glasses 'n get a blawnde wig? He'd neveh know me." "I really t'ought," frowns Solly, fixing Bink in his gaze, "you toined aroun'." "An' I really t'ought," retorts Bink, "t'at maybe YOU wasn' jus' anot'eh joik. You know I do'wanna get mixed up wit' no cawps. 'Specially -- right now." "An' I s'pose," injects Sally, her voice harsh, "t'at you won' min' someday when some doity cawp smashes in YAWR kid's face jus' cause 'e can!" Bink's eyes dart between her two opponents. "Ya gangin' up," she mutters. "Y'wanna toin ya life aroun'," argues Solly. "Y'tol' me t'at. I b'lieved ya. Now's ya chance t'prove it. Do t'is one t'ing, nawt 'cause y' woikin' 'n angle, but 'cause it's th' right t'ing t'do." "I got nut'n moeh t'say," adds Sally, her arms folded. Bink looks at her, the floor, the ceiling, the cardboard figure of the Philip Morris bellhop, and finally, her eyes fix on Solly. "Gawdam you," she murmurs. She exhales, and lowers her eyes. "Awright," she nods. "I'm in...")

("Ahhh," gleams Inky Quinlan, removing his fawn-colored gloves as he enters Sergeant Solly's Surplus. "They told me next door you'd be over here. Such a unique establishment. That piquant aroma...." "Cosmoline," snaps Uncle Frank, with obvious impatience. "Do ye' haaaave th' paparrr?" "Oh yes," nods Inky, reaching into his immaculately-tailored pearl-gray topcoat to produce a crisp brown envelope. Uncle Frank quickly unwinds the clasp and extracts the sheet. His eyes glitter as he reviews the work. "This stationaaaaary," he observes. "Foine waaark." "Oh, the stationery is genuine, I assure you," preens Inky. "I took advantage of a -- visit -- I once paid to Centre Street to -- ah -- furnish myself with a small supply. One never knows..." "And this signature?" continues Uncle Frank. "The sample you provided," acknowledges Inky, "was not of the best, but certain treatments removed the bulk of the coffee stains from the slip and I..." "Nivvar moind th' palaver," rejects Uncle Frank. "Will it stand oop if Oi need t' use it?" "Upon that," affirms Inky, "I stake my reputation." "In spoite'a that," frowns Uncle Frank, "Oi'll have to chance it." "Very good," glistens Inky. "There is of course, the matter of my fee..." "Oi gaaht soomthin' even bettar," declares Uncle Frank, reaching under the counter and handing the debonair forger a blue slip. "Stoooor credit." "Splendid," sighs Inky, his eye roving forlornly along the racks of olive-drab...)

(Poor Shaughnessy. The horsemeat king of Rogers Avenue has lost his throne.)

(A mobile canteen? If only Joe had access to a truck...)

(Bummy may be gone, but at least we still have Boom Boom Mancini...)

(Falling-down-stairs jokes have lost their zing for me since I started doing it. And I don't even have insurance.)

(It wasn't a funny bit yesterday and it isn't funny today. And why does Sue always look like she just swallowed a spoonful of alum?)

(Meanwhile, somebody better water those flowers.)

(Kitty ought to know by now how this works...)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

He lived in Pigtown? "Hmph! Keep this stoof in Brownsvillle wharr it belongs!" -- Ma.

Yeah, well, these days anyone can be a Vanderbilt. Incidentally, whatever became of Gloria and Leopold?

The postwar economic miracle.

Shouldn't you guys be signing up for college where this sort of childish nonsense never goes on?

Deadshot -- uh -- Richard.

That must be an awfully big hammer.

Walt's passive-aggressive way of saying "don't be a sap, kid."

And speaking of sap, the Mullins family tree is full of it.

"And we're going to need the two cents on that bottle to help pay for the Pinkertons."

Gee, I wonder who might be up to their neck running ***s to both sides in that civil war?

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily Worker...

Reichsadlers of a feather flock together.

There's a New World Coming....

 

[Fading Fast]

..."Gawdam you," she murmurs. She exhales, and lowers her eyes. "Awright," she nods. "I'm in..."

Well done, Lizzie, that's a gripping narrative from beginning to end.

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What an obnoxious ad for an industry association to put out. I'm glad Sergeant Solly's Surplus didn't participate.

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Yeah, well, these days anyone can be a Vanderbilt. Incidentally, whatever became of Gloria and Leopold?

Page 4 is not the best on followup.

Separately, not a top-ten, but another great Page 4 name: Gertrude Vanderbilt Whitney Henry

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Gee, I wonder who might be up to their neck running ***s to both sides in that civil war?

"A gal's gotta make a living."

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Whatcha writin'?" queries Alice, noting her seatmate scrawling in a composition book. "Grocery lis'?" "A papeh f' school," replies Sally, not looking up. "A repoeht on what we been doin' t' help Sammy. How a buncha awl diff'ent people come t'get'eh t' fight f'sump'n right. Class solidarity as a matteh'ra applied sociology, right'eh." "Hen'cha betteh wait'll it's oveh?" warns Alice. "I mean, I do'wanna, y'know, criticize, I mean, you know moehr'about t'is - whatchacawlit?" "Solidarity," pronounces Sally. "Yeh, t'at," nods Alice. "I mean, t'is t'ing you an' Solly's cookin' up, wit' Mame G. an' Bink Scanlan. I mean -- I don' get it. It's moeh like ya putt'n awn a show t'en anyt'ing t'at'll help Sammy." "T' moeh people know about what we'eh gonna do befoeh we do it," warns Sally, "t'moeh dangehrous it is." "I hoid'ja Uncle Frank's doin' sump'n," comments Alice. "Whehja heeh t'at?" snaps Sally. "Danny was tawkin," shrugs Alice. "I seen'im hangin' roun'a sidewawk las' night keepin'a eye on Sammy." "I dunno nut'n'about Uncle Frank," denies Sally. "An' Danny's an idiot." "You gonna put t'at in ya papeh?" wonders Alice, as the train rolls on toward home...)

("You can't weah t'at," declares Solly Pincus. "Who't'hella you?" snorts Bink Scanlan. "I'll weah what'evveh I wanna." "I mean f' t'is -- t'ing we'eh gonna do, ovehr'in Bensonhoist," explains Solly. "It's like -- yr' an actress, awright? Y'gotta weah'ra costume t'play ya pawrt. See, y'gonna be a housewife, an'..." "T'at'll be t'day," snickers Bink. "Look," exhales Solly. "Sal's gonna bring oveh somea t'ese matoinity dresses she useteh weah when she was pregnan', awright? Y'rabout't'same size." "Nah," dismisses Bink. "F'one t'ing, her mout' is biggehr'n my whole head." "Willya stawp it, please," demands Solly. "Yesseh, Sawrgeant," replies Bink, offering a sarcastic salute, punctuated by a snap of her gum. "Now didja read oveh what Sal wrote down," sighs Solly, "bout whatcha gotta say?" "I gotta loin awlat?" frowns Bink. "It's two lines," exhales Solly. "An' ya gotta make it seem real. Imagine like ya really mad about sump'n, an'nen say t'em lines like you was mad." "You keep t'is up," scowls Bink, "an' I won' hafta imagine....")

("Hey Pap," pleads Willie. "C'n we go, huh? Can we?" Krause looks over the ad with considerable interest. "I wanna meet t'at guy draws Terry an'na Pirates," Willie continues. "An' I wanna fin'out whatsa matteh wit' 'im!" "Yeh!" agrees Krause...)

(All right, I laughed out loud.)

(Meanwhile, Roy Campanella sits patiently by his phone...)

(Should've gone for the double indemnity.)

(And she meant it to sting!)

(What, Janie doesn't have her own forensics lab at home??)

(Don't go looking for things you don't want to find.)

(Catenfreude...)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

Absolutely no relation at all, um, I don't think.

You know, the Met is nothing without what's-his-name that used to stand on his head in the lobby.

You know, somebody needs to teach these guys to lock their cars.

"Well, at least they aren't going to dock your tail."

That's an awful burden to put on the poor man.

Sighhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh......

Hey, the babushka look is the next big thing...

There's one on every flight...

"That slot machine in the back NEVER pays out!"

The ammunition shortage continues...

 

[LizzieMaine]

And also...

Yes, if you go to Abraham and Straus tomorrow, you can meet the guy who draws Kay and Mae!

 

[Trenchfriend]

Kirkman Flakes really had aggressive marketing. Surely not less marketing budget.