The Era -- Day By Day

[LizzieMaine]

A counter supervisor is exactly that -- somebody who runs the cash register in a lunchroom or a diner. On your feet a lot, handle a lot of nickels...

Nat should mind his step there. Rickey just seethes when the press rides him, but Larry is just likely to come around and punch him in the face.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Ahhhhl roit, me gaaaarl," frowns Ma. "It's toime farrr oos to have a caaanvarrsation. Francis is goin' t' be hoom t'marra, an' ye bettar have ye staaahry straight." "I tol' ya awl I c'n tell ya," sighs Bink Scanlan in a voice lacking her usual brass. "I jus' couldn' go t'ru wit' it. I knew t'is gal had'dat done, by some phony docteh, an' she gawt sick an' died. Maybe I ain' gawt awlat much t'live fawr, but I ain' ready t'die yet. So I jump'd awff t'at bus an' spent me las' money t'hawp anot'eh one t'Chicageh. I cawl'd t'numbeh Slick gimme befoeh'ree lef', an' tol' 'im t' meet me at t'station, an'nna rat neveh showed up. I gawt awff t'bus, wandehed aroun' a while, come back t't'station an' lifted some guy's wallet, an' got enough dough t'grab t' fois' bus goin' east. 'Cept I read t' timetable wrawng an' ended up in Buffaleh. Hadda wait aroun' fr'a'not'eh bus, but t'eh wasn' no night bus causa t'wawr a'sump'n, so I hadda cool me heels innat doity toimenal awl night, I was afraid t'fawl asleep cause you know t'kin'a crooks an' bums ride awn buses. An'nen I gawt back 'eeh, foun' out t'at rat lan'lady rented out me room t'wa saileh while I was gawn. An'neh wasn' no p'tential t'eh, an' I didn' have no dough lef' t'even get me stuff outa hock, so I come back heeh. An'nat's awla gawdsawnes' trut'.' "Moothar'a'maaarcy," sighs Ma. "Well, Oi moit be stook with ye, bootcha goin' t'aaarn ye keep. Ye got a whoile yet b'faaar ye starrt t'shoo, so we can coom ooop with soom koinda staary, boot in the meantime, ye moit as well go do th' roonds. An' doon'chee say a waaaaard aboot any'a this t'Joseph, aaar me daughtarrr arr anyboody else. Oi'll tallk t'Francis an' we''l figyaaar oot soomthin'. Noow get busy, an' moind ye, if ye coom oop foive cents sharrt ahhn collections, Oi'll saaalve th' problem by wringin' ye fool neck." "Yeh," sighs Bink, wiping her eyes. "Um -- t'anks -- um -- Ma..." "Mooothaaaaaar a' marrrrcy," Ma repeats....)

("Whassis I'm wawshin' wit' ?" fumes Joe, soaking in the bathtub. "Smells like gasoline." "Fels Naptha," sighs Sally, picking thru the medicine cabinet looking for scraps and slivers. "I'm sawry t'ey was awl outa Koikman's Complexion. An'nat lit'l piece is awl'lat's left'a t'at." "Whatta you gonna use?" queries Joe. "Alice says she gawt a haffa boxa Rinso," shrugs Sally. "She's gonna gimme a cuppa t'at." "I hoida dishpan hands," snickers Joe. "But neveh dishpan..." "You was neveh t'is muchuva wise guy," mutters Sally, "b'foeh t'Awrmy...")

(Coming events...)

(I hope, Mr. Lichty, that you don't work tooooo far ahead.)

("Gimme t'em scissehs," requests Alice. "I wawna clip out t'is bawx scoeh f'ya Aunt Sally. Petey had a good game, an' it might cheeh'reh up." "Who's Petey," queries Willie, sliding the scissors across the oilcloth table cover. "T'at's a lawng stawry," sighs Alice. "See, he useteh play f't' Dodgehs, an' one day Sal was goin' downa stehs t't' Prospec' Pawrk station, an' he was runnin' up, an'nee bumpt int'eh'eh. An' steada jus' goin' awn, he says to 'eh 'sawry, lady.' An' she's been dotin' awn'im eveh since. Y'know t'em pitchehs useta come wit' bubble gum? She's gawt one 'a Petey inneh pocketbook, been carryin' it aroun' f'yeehs." "She does?" marvels Willie. "Yeh," chuckles Alice, "an' she tol' me she hadda buy sump'n like t'ree dollehs woit'a bubble gum t'get it." "Izzat why 'eh teet' is kin'a crooked?" wonders Willie. "You ask'eh y'self," laughs Alice. "Annen YOUEH teet' will be kin'a crooked." Willie considers this. "T'is sueh is," he exhales, "a funny fam'ly." "T'at," declares Alice, "izza bes' kin'.")

(Enter Ella's mean stepmother, who stalks her stepdaughter from coast to coast without ever once falling into a cistern...)

(Love at first slight.)

(C'mon, Honeychile, you can't tell me you've never ridden in the back of a police car before...)

(Scarlet was the captain of her softball team, but she doesn't like to brag.)

("Funny, along side all these bones, it looks like -- pieces of -- rafts???")

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

$294 for a Jeep? How can they make any money at that price?

Um.

And here I thought Bachelors were supposed to neat, fussy, and fastidious.

"But I do wish you'd press your pants first."

"Actually, we just nailed him up in an old crate." "Ah. Very good. Carry on."

Oh well, you've still got your career.

In a few weeks, kid, all of this will make sense.

"Well, it's good t'know where yuh stand."

Mamie's gonna absolutley RULE television.

Today's strip shows remarkable insight into the functioning of certain types of organizations.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And also...

Mr. Rickey learned everything he knows about being cheap from Sam Breadon.

 

[Fading Fast]

"1500 Allied Fleet Planes Swarm Over Tokyo Area."

Why are they not surrendering?

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

...an' lifted some guy's wallet, an' got enough dough t'grab t' fois' bus goin' east. 'Cept I read t' timetable wrawng an' ended up in Buffaleh.

Perfect.

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

Eighty yeas later and only one (!) of those Wall Street companies still exists. The rest were merged or bankrupted out of existence (often both). For all its purported power, most firms on Wall Street struggle to survive as it is an unbelievably competitive business populated by some of the most type-A people you'll ever meet.

P.S. Just thought of this: when I started on Wall Street in the 1980s about half of those names still existed and, again, we are now down to one.

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

"an' she tol' me she hadda buy sump'n like t'ree dollehs woit'a bubble gum t'get it."

Perfect.

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"Offers him a peach from her fruit basket."

Look at that, it wasn't a Page 4 euphemism; she really did offer him a peach.

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

Today's strip shows remarkable insight into the functioning of non-profit organizations.

Indeed.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Oi'll leave it to you an' th' gaaarl t'figyar oot," snaps Uncle Frank. "Oi waash me hands oov it. Gallivantin' acroos th' ****try aaahn a ****** boos, an' we're noo betttar oof than whin we staaarted." "It was yaaar oidear," frowns Ma, her voice deadly. "It was yaaar fool oova soon was r'sponsible," mutters Uncle Frank, gulping a handful of Tums. "We doon't knoo that," defends Ma. "Coood joost's easily be woona thim two loonkheads a'yarrs. James thinks 'ee's in loov with 'arr! Whar is th' eedjit, anyhoo?" "Roidin' th' Pennsylvania railrood," sighs Uncle Frank, "disgoised as Oscar Bibbarman, assistant brakeman." "Oscar Bibbarman??" snorts Ma. "Remoind me t' kill Inky Quinlan," growls Uncle Frank. "An' whin Oi git me hands aaahn that soona yarrs, loikewise. He's rooned aaahl me plans." "Michael?" retorts Ma. "Whoot plans?"" "Th' plans Oi been waaarkin' aaahn with Lowrey," sighs Uncle Frank, "t' caaaarnar th' Army saaarploos market. We gaaat th' knoo-how, boot th' givvarment is goin' t'give pref'rance t' vet'rans in gett'n these caaantracts. An' whoo bettar t'froont faaar oos than a faaarmer POW? We had it aaahl woorked oot an' thin th' ****** spalpeen roons oot aaahn oos. An' inless we c'n coom oop with anoothar vet'ran, we're skoonked." "Doon't even THINK," warns Ma, her scowl deepening, "aboot gettin' Joseph mixed oop in anny aaar ye schemin'." "He'd nivvar doo it noohaow," shrugs Uncle Frank. "But..." He is interrupted by the skeening of the screen door, as Solly Pincus saunters in. "Well'eh'reee is," Solly grins, greeting Uncle Frank. Ma and her husband exchange instant flickers of the same thought. "Sollllllllly, me boy," grins Uncle Frank, gripping that highly decorated veteran's hand.....)

("I wondeh what it'd be like t'have a cawr," ponders Sally. "A cawr don' do ya much good," notes Alice, "'less y'know howta drive." "You could teach me," suggests Sally. Alice glances over at her friend, and myriad possible futures flash before her eyes. "No," she declares. "I couldn'.")

(In the back room at Lieb's Candy Store, Bink Scanlan looks around at the clutter of tables and chairs, stacked cartons, the slot machine, and the chalkboard of race results on the wall, and lets out a deep, sad sigh at the thought of giving up her Hollywood pattern of glamorous living...)

("I ain't botherin' with no airplane, I'm goin' straight for th' helicopter!")

(Although Sally will hotly disagree when it comes to second base, I can't really find fault with any of Mr. Holmes's picks. And blessya, Tommy, for finding a place for Fitz. 1940 was a magical season.)

(Oh, it's like that, is it?)

("Drat! She's wise to me!")

(It's a lot easier than being a jewel thief, and you dont need to hang around those snooty parties in the Hamptons.)

(Hey kid, do you think you could hit .307 for St. Paul?)

("Once they develop a taste for it...")

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

Hey, maybe you could save some money by forgetting the rest of the stuff and just publish this comic paper all the time.

But you'd also have to make sure to still publish Page Four.

Hey, toots, not so long ago you were mucking around with dead Shaky's damp smelly old shoe, so don't try to say you'e afraid of a poor little snake.

"I suppose I should change my clothes first."

Kids Today...

April's getting desperate.

"...not that you won or lost, but how you played the game."

After all, there's really no future in this rocket stuff.

I wonder where Pop keeps his slot machine?

Get your bets down now, folks...

 

[LizzieMaine]

And also...

"The muck and brilliantine of Broadway." All politics aside, Mr. Gold is a hell of a writer.

"If Satch and me were pitching on the same team, we'd win the pennant by the fourth of July and go fishing till World Series time." -- Ol' Diz.

 

[Fading Fast]

"U.S.-British Carrier Planes Smash Tokyo Area 2nd Day: Foe's Coast Aflame From Broadsides Of the Allied Fleet."

Why are they not surrendering?

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

"Sollllllllly, me boy,"

Perfect.

Plus, I love how they all know Joe is too honest for any of their shenanigans.

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

It's a lot easier than being a jewel thief, and you dont need to hang around those snooty parties in the Hamptons.

Yes, but fencing a famous painting is much harder than fencing jewelry.

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

Hey, maybe you could save some money by forgetting the rest of the stuff and just publish this comic paper all the time.

1945 me would be making his way over to the Daily News lobby today.

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

But you'd also have to make sure to still publish Page Four.

And the Sports Page, and movie listing, and... it's a slippery slope

Oh, and if there ever is an update on the Langford murder, you know, the biggest story of 1945 until it went completely black - we'd want to see that too.

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

April's getting desperate.

If this is any indication, April is not going to do well when her looks fade with age.

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

"...not that you won or lost, but how you played the game."

This town could have a same-day execution policy.

[Overhead phone conversation between Sandy and his agent.]
"Keep pushing the 'Little Orphan Sandy' story; I've always been the de facto star of the strip anyway. Look, as a backup plan, call over to King, that young couple, what's their name –Nina and Skeezix – need a dog."

 

[LizzieMaine]

("I stood onna lawta lines in me life," sighs Joe, sprawled back in his kitchen chair, "but I neveh stood awna line like 'at one. An' f'what? A boxa macaroni, a loafa bread, an' a canna limeh beans." "Wazzit t' Bohack's awn Rogehs down' past Ma's?" queries Sally. "Teh'r awrf'l snobs inneh. An' y'know who t'ey save it awl fawr? Mavis Doyle, a'ts who. An' her husban' a COP. He oughta run'eh in." "I dowanno limeh beans," protests Leonora. "Nobody wants no lima beans," retorts Joe. "At's why t'ey still gawt limeh beans." "T'is bread's stale," frowns Sally. "T'at wazza bes' one 'ney had," shrugs Joe. "Some 'a t'em loafs was so fuzzy y'd hafta shave 'em b'foeh y'put awna butteh." "You gawt butteh?" perks Sally, her eyes flaring with hope. "T'ey din' even have no oleo," regrets Joe. "T'ey din' even have no lawrd." "Huh,' huhs Sally, "Can't imagine Mavis Doyle needs any'a T'AT." "You neveh use't be such a wiseguy," snickers Joe. "What?" "Nut'n...")

("Two hunnet dollehs," sighs Bink Scanlan. "Well, a'ts sump'n at leas'." "Less taaalkin, moor sweepin'," commands Ma. "Exarsoise is good farr ye." "Hidey hi, hidey ho," greets Solly Pincus, skeening thru the screen door. "Frank heeh?" "Went t'th' City," notes Ma. "Had t'goo t' Penn Station t'pick oop -- ahh -- soomwoon." "Ah," nods Solly, noticing Bink paddling carelessly at the floor with her broom. "Hey," he heys. "You mus' be Bink Scanlan." "'F you say so," replies Bink, popping her gum. "Solly Pincus," comes the rest of the introduction. "Friend'a Joe an' Sally. Fact, I'm'na one innehduced 'm, kinda." "Zat so?" exhales Bink, unimpressed with this morsel of backstory. "Whassamatteh witcha face?" "Huh?" huhs Solly, not expecting this turn of conversation."T'is heeh," continues Bink, touching her upper lip. "Sawl red an' swelt up." "Ah," ahs Solly. "I -- um -- had sumpin' onneh." "Shoulda left it," snorts Bink, giving her broom a sharp flick. "Ahhh," aaaahs Solly...)

(After two weeks without movie ads, it looks like everything is about back to normal...)

("And you can't beat the view!")

(Third place is like that old pair of shoes you really should throw away, but you put them on and they're so broken it feels like you aren't wearing them at all...)

(I hope this cop sticks around, I appreciate his attitude about it all.)

(Well well well, did you forget your glen-plaid sport coat with the belt in the back?)

(Artists are suckers for cheap flattery.)

(OK, let's see you do that for, oh, 150 times a game.)

(AMERICA'S NUMBER ONE HERO DOG reminds you that he is an obligate carnivore.)

 

[Trenchfriend]

@LizzieMaine

"Johnson Williams - A thrill of a romance" advert.

I had to look twice, haha... In July 1945 maybe irritating.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

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

I wonder what "specific program" Mme. Chiang never misses?

"And if you'd like insurance, I represent several fine companies..."

Pirate Cove's Picture Newspaper.

Ew.

"Sorry, sir, we don't go there without a travel priority. In triplicate."

Blenda represents a philosophy of parenting I remember well.

Oh look, Chazz finally found a friend.

You must not muzzle the ox while it is threshing out the grain.

One of the things I enjoy most about Mr. Willard's artwork is that his characters have mass and weight in a way that none of our other artists really capture. Note how it's obvious here that Mamie and gravity are no strangers.

 

[Fading Fast]

"U.S. ***s Rake Tokyo Bay to Flush Fleet: Planes Blast Harbor Ships, Indicating Jap Units May Be Trapped."

"Why are they not surrendering?"

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

After two weeks without movie ads, it looks like everything is about back to normal...

Plus, "captivating Cooper at his captivatingest."

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

OK, let's see you do that for, oh, 150 times a game.

A pre-pitch-count-obsessed era comment

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

Ew.

Yes, that last line made my skin crawl. Gould is good at what he tries very hard to be good at.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Howcome we ain' gawtta juke box innis dump -- um -- jernt," ponders Bink Scanlan. "Oi should have a starrr foola 'hip cats,'" frowns Ma, "'singin' aboot 'Woon Meat Baaahl.'" "Yeh," nods Bink. "Ya should." This productive conversation comes to an abrupt halt as the screen door skeens open. "I'm hoom," mumbles Jimmy Leary. "Ye doon't live here," scowls Ma. "Um," stammers Jimmy, flushing red as he notices Bink. "Um, I'm home," he repeats, his eyes downcast. "Yeh," nods Bink, noticing a speck of great interest stuck to the marble countertop and taking on the task of scraping it loose with the edge of her thumbnail. "Um," repeats Jimmy with Wildean grace, "y'wanna go see a pitcheh show t'night?" "I guess," disdains Bink, not turning around. "Um," declares Jimmy, hammering home his argument, "see ya at six?" "I s'pose," exhales Bink, holding up the dislodged bit of schmutz for careful study. "Awright," nods Jimmy, tugging at his shirt collar. "Um." With that persuasive closing, he retreats, the door banging behind him. "Loov's yoong dream," sighs Ma, wiping her hands with a dishrag. "Noitz," murmurs Bink, her gaze falling upon the cutout of the Philip Morris bellhop. "Whatta YOU grinnin' at," she mutters, but Little Johnny merely smiles his inscrutable smile...)

("It's'n innehrestin' proposition," acknowledges Solly Pincus, dunking a Toomey's Diner donut with great precision into his coffee cup. "But -- see, Frank, it's like t'is. I got some kern in me pocket, awright? T'reen'a half yeehs inna Awrmy, t'ree yeehs ovehseas, an' no allotment checks t'sen' back home, y'see? An' I stayed outa **** games, y'know? So yeah, I'm sittin' awna pretty good chunka dough. So I ain' gotta take t'fois' t'ing t'at comes alawng." "Ah," ahs Uncle Frank, gesturing for emphasis with his Tootsie Roll. "Soo mooch th' bettar. Ye should invest that bankrool in a loive-woire business oopartunity loike this woon. Ahhl thim jeeps an' gons an' oovarcoots an' shoov'ls an' radios an' aaaahl th' rist'v it. An' a vet'ran loike yeself gets faaaarst pick o' th' littar." "Well," argues Solly, "whatta I need t'two'a youse f'awr, you'n'is guy Lowrey." "Knoo how," argues Uncle Frank. "Connections. Distribution. We'll poot'char name aaahn th' door -- 'Sergeant Solly's Sarrploos,' thinka that. Ye knoo thim Pep Boys with th' aaautamoobile paaarts? Thim pitchars a'tharr faces they gaaht? We'll put yaaar face ahhn th' soign joost loike that. A whool chain'a staars, fr'm here t'Chicagoo. An' Lowrey an' meself, we'll -- goide things fr'm th' backgroond, an' we'll coot 'chee in farr, shall we say, twenty parcent. Roit aaahf th' taap." Solly snickers thru a mouthful of donut. "Y'can' even affoehd," he laughs, flicking at his ears, "t'put me eehs awna sign f'twenny p'cent. Let's make it -- ooh, fifty." "Fifty," gapes Uncle Frank. "I'm givin' ya a break," chuckles Solly. "If my name is onna t'ing, I oughta get controllin' innehrest. An' I want it awl in writin'." "Oooh now come now, Solly me boy," wheedles Uncle Frank. "Yee'v knoown me farr years. In me business, ye doon't live laaang if ye dooble-craaahs. Me warrd is me baand." "Yeh," nods Solly. "But even a bawnd, Mawrgeht'awr signs it!" "Ah...." sighs Uncle Frank. "Ah," agrees Solly...)

("We ain' been out steppin'," sighs Sally, "since ya gawt home." "I don'even know haffa t'ese places," shrugs Joe. "An'na bands. I mean, sueh, Krupa -- but who c'n go t't Asteh Roof? Nye Mayhew? What izzis, 1934? An' whot'ahell is Teddy King? Jeez, it ain' like it useteh be." "R'membeh, Joe," recalls Sally. "R'membeh goin' oveh t't' Pennsylvania Hotel, downeh inna Madhattan Room wit't' two dolleh coveh chawrge. Benny Goodman. Right up so close y'could feel t' aieh blowin' out 'is clarinet? An'nen innat Cafe Rouge t'eh, Awrtie Shawr?" "Hey," heys Joe. "We still gawt t'em old reckids an'nat lit'l Victrola inna clawset? Less gett'm out, do some steppin' right in'eeh." Joe steps to the closet and pulls out the leatherette covered portable phonograph, followed immediately by a heavy cardboard box. "Awright now," he grins, plopping the carton down on the table. "Lessee." He reaches in and pulls out a record and squints at the label. "What't'hell, Sal!" he blurts. "One Meat Bawl???" "Um," ums Sally. "I t'ink t'at b'longs'ta Alice. I loaned 'eh.." "Ahhhh," ahhs Joe, giving the Victrola a vigorous winding and placing the platter on the turntable. "It ain' t' sawng," he declares, beckoning to his wife, "it's how ya move t'at counts. C'mon, kid, les' go." And as the voice bleats out about the Little Man who Walked Up And Down, the coulda-beens of the 1937 Harvest Moon Ball show they haven't lost it after all...)

(We don't usually get slashing political commentary from Mr. Lichty. Is he auditioning for the Worker?)

("Lemme at'im, lemme at'im, lemme at'immmmmm!" -- F. Germano.)

(I bet Ma Cinders wouldn't have drowned in the cistern.)

(If that cleft in his chin was any bigger he could hold his paintbrush with it.)

(Jane is ten times the detective Tracy is, but she's too modest to say so.)

(I don't know how the Blue Sox are doing this season, but their uniforms look like they got them in the kids' department at Davega.)

(Little do they realize they've found the river where Murder Inc. stored its leftovers...)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

"Horace Schmidlapp?"

You can tell she's refined by the way she pours the beer into an elegant glass, even at the beach house.

DIVORCE RATE SEEN HIT NEW PEAK

Judge Fudge knows how to manage the news cycle.

Charlie transfers to Army Intelligence. Yeah, I know.


Forget the snake, hon, watch out for -- amphibians!

Yes, this is indeed a very good idea.

"YOU GETS NO BREAD WITH WUUUUUUUUUUN MEAT BALL!"

Some people are just naturals.

Your take on the blues experience is notably inauthentic.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And also...

"SUE??? Kay, we need to talk."

And in the Worker...

Coming events...

 

[Fading Fast]

"Halsey Ships Prowling for New Strike: Huge Fires Rage in 5 Jap War Centers After Top B-29 Raid."

Why are they not surrendering?

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

"Loov's yoong dream," sighs Ma

Maybe they deserve each other, but no kid deserves them as parents.

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

"Well," argues Solly, "whatta I need t'two'a youse f'awr, you'n'is guy Lowrey."

Good for Solly.

An' I want it awl in writin'.

Good for Solly.

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

Growing up in the 1970s, we did not eat out a lot, but when we did, HoJo's was one of the places (usually on a long car ride). "Dine in Luxury," though, is not what anyone would have called it, at least by the 1970s.

"Visit our cocktail lounge and bar" is not something I would have guessed had made it to HoJo's as early as 1945. It feels more like a mid-1950s "Our business is dropping off" effort at "keeping up."

And while I couldn't find a picture of the East 50th Street HoJo's, I am very comfortable it did not look at all like the picture above, but probably something more like this (which were what the few HoJo's that were left in the city looked like when I came to NYC in the 1980s):

Note the sign above HoJo's, but no mention of Gypsy Rose Lee appearing.

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

"Horace Schmidlapp?"

When you're working on marriage number four at 26, you have to be a bit less particular.

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

If ever a kid has earned the right to be cynical.

"Just making it very clear: I'm not part of the sentence; I'm just here to support [looks down and checks notes] Annie. Umm, could you hold me a little less tight, kid, as you never know when they'll be taking you away."

 

[LizzieMaine]

Meanwhile, in the 21st Century, the Eagle gives us a quick history lesson on East Flatbush, where Sally prefers to say she grew up. She bristles at "Pig Town," but had she lived to hear it, "Wingate" would make her sneer.

https://brooklyneagle.com/articles/2025/07/17/how-east-flatbush-got-its-name/

 

[Fading Fast]

Meanwhile, in the 21st Century, the Eagle gives us a quick history lesson on East Flatbush, where Sally prefers to say she grew up. She bristles at "Pig Town," but had she lived to hear it, "Wingate" would make her sneer.

https://brooklyneagle.com/articles/2025/07/17/how-east-flatbush-got-its-name/

God bless to anyone who followed this without a few re-reads (the Daily News would have given us a chart or similar graphic):

The neighborhood is an amalgam of smaller neighborhoods lying south of East New York Avenue between Kings Highway and Nostrand Avenue and, of course, east of Flatbush, a word that comes from the Dutch “vlacke bos,” meaning “flat woodland” or “wooded plain.”

It was formerly known as Rugby and was primarily developed in the 1920s, populated largely by the overflow from neighboring localities.

It encompasses Rugby, named by developers in the 1890s; Remsen Village, which took its name from the avenue, which in turn was named for the family of Joris Remsen, an early settler and landowner; Wingate, originally called Pig Town after the many small animal farms there, but later named for Gen. George Wingate, founder of the National ***** Association; Farragut, named for Adm. David G. Farragut, an American naval hero of the Mexican War and the Civil War; and Erasmus, in the west of the neighborhood.

The western section of East Flatbush, bordered by Bedford Avenue, was part of the original Dutch town of Flatbush. Parts of the eastern section, delimited by Rockaway Parkway, were within the original Dutch town of Flatlands.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And that's not even getting into "Prospect Lefferts Gardens," which is what the real estate moguls now call the part of the old East Flatbush where you'll find Ma's store. If there's a garden there, in 1945 or 2025, you'll have to look close to find it.

I often describe Brooklyn 1945 as "America's Biggest Small Town," but it's actually a whole lot of small towns that never quite can agree on where one ends and the next begins.