The Era -- Day By Day

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

Seventeen years old. Kids today.

"Think yaaaaar fooony, do yee? Nivvar moind th' caaahsta meat, have ye seeen th' proice a' bread croombs??" -- Shaughnessy the Butcher.

Good think Pat is taking his time here, you wouldn't want to make any mistakes.

When I was little, Punjab scared me to death, and I guess I wasn't alone. And it wouldn't be summer without Shadow making a fool of himself at the beach.

That lamp isn't too bad as long as you've got two of them to balance the room. And a killer balloon? At last, something new!

They're like the Batman and Robin of the boardwalk.

Well, honestly, if you knew Andy Gump was lurking around your house, wouldn't you do something about it??

"It was that smarmy little Boston kid, I know it!"

 

[LizzieMaine]

And also...

You don't often see the Mayor in a state of shock, but he is here.

 

[LizzieMaine]

Everyone will pause this afternoon to tune in the Mayor's weekly broadcast over WNYC for a resume of the crash. You can join them here --

https://www.wnyc.org/story/july-29-1945

 

[LizzieMaine]

Finally got a chance to check it out and, agreed, it's that old railcar under all that remodeling; the question is, as you note, what is left inside? The five building to its left look like they were there in Sally and Joe's time too. There is less change than I would have guessed.

There have been a few changes in the neighborhood around there -- Fitz's bowling alley was torn down some time in the 70s for a gas station, and the only Ebbets Field you can see from Empire Boulevard is a distinctively ugly high-rise apartment block -- but for the most part the whole area looks remarkably stable. It looks like you can walk all the way down from there to Rogers and Midwood (Ma's store would be one door down from the southeast corner) and structurally it still looks very much like it did in the 1940s.

 

[Fading Fast]

"Hope I neveh live lawnga'nough," exhales Alice, "t'see nut'n like'tat again."

It's gonna be a close call, but obviously, Sally has a better chance. Alice would be what - almost 100?

It is amazing that it was a bomber – those things are big and heavy – and the building's stability wasn't in question.

"A B-25 Mitchell bomber typically weighs between 19,500 and 21,120 pounds empty and can weigh up to 35,000 pounds when fully loaded. Some sources indicate a maximum takeoff weight of 41,800 pounds" — Delaware Aviation Museum

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"Bloodperzen"

?

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What a great role for Jack Carson.

I was thinking Bruce Bennett

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"It was that smarmy little Boston kid, I know it!"

Hard to believe Pyzon and his buddy wouldn't be the first two to interrogate; those guys could not look more suspicious.

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Everyone will pause this afternoon to tune in the Mayor's weekly broadcast over WNYC for a resume of the crash. You can join them here --

It's distinctive, which matters, but far from the greatest speaking voice.

 

[LizzieMaine]

"Bloodpoison." After all, she made fun of his ears.

Alice was, as far as she knows, born about 1907 -- she was two-ish when they found her abandoned on the Fulton Street L -- so she might have a shot at surviving into the 21st Century. We know Sally was born in 1913, and if she can keep her blood pressure down as she gets older she has a decent chance. Of course, Leonora and Willie will very probably live to see 2001. The past isn't dead, it isn't even past.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("At's one t'ing I'm gladda," sighs Sally, "is I knew awla time Joe was oveht'eh, he wasn' foolin' aroun'. He ain'na type t'do t'at ev'nif 'e hadda chance." I dunno, Sal," teases Alice. "Good lookin' felleh like Joe, oveh t'eh 'mongst awlem mad'ma'selles..." Sally shoots her a murderous look. "Betteh not say t'at," she glowers, "aroun' Ma." "Oh," stammers Alice. "I f'gawt about -- I mean --- um -- ya faw'teh." "Ma hasn'," declares Sally. "'N I ain' neit'eh." "Yeh," flushes Alice. "Anyways, ya lucky wit' Joe, same's I am wit' Siddy." "Joe's awrways been shy aroun' women," nods Sally. "I mean, I 'emembeh t'night I met 'im, at Roselan'. Me an' Mildred McCullough was inneh, y'know, jus' seein' what was goin' awn. I'll neveh f'get it. Joe Haymes was playin' inneh -- t'at's t'band Tommy Dawrsey took oveh, y'know, real swing stuff. Well, I see Solly Pincus come in, I'd seen'im inneh'ra few times' 'n we'd danced some, but t'on'y t'ing biggeh'rn Solly's eehs is 'is feet, y'know? Not too good onna flooeh. But t'is one night he wawks in wit'tis guy, an' innehduced us, an' I sweaht'agawd, he *blushed.* I neveh seen a man blush befoeh, so I sayst'w'im, ya wanna dance, a'what?" So we get out'teh, an' I sweah, I neveh seen nobody move like 'e done. Fred Astaieh, t'is guy Gene Kelly, you name anybody ya wawnt, Joe was betteh. He was movin' me aroun'eh like we was floatin'. An' one t'ing led t'wa'not'eh." "An'' ya f'gawt awlabout Rudy Vallee," snickers Alice. "Funny t'ing, t'ough," reflects Sally. "I figyehed it out aftr'a while, b'foeh 'ee was wit' me, Joe was neveh wit' nobody else. Good lookin' guy like him, go figyeh." "How'dja figyeh t'at out?" queries Alice. "Oh, I dunno," demurs Sally, "y'jus' know." "S'a good t'ing you was aroun'," grins Alice, "t'teach 'im..." "NOW WAIT A MINUTE," roars Sally, as heads turn thruout the car........)

("**** games," declares Solly Pincus, "is f'chumps." "Aw, c'mon," insinuates Jimmy Leary, "whatcha gawt t'lose?" "I got nut'n t'lose," declares Solly, "long's I ain't playin'." "Ahhhh, I get it," scowls Jimmy, his eyes narrowing. "I awrays hadjeh figyehed f'one'a t'ese wise guys, awrways poppin' awff, butcha won' put up." He sticks his hand in his pocket and licks his lips. "Yeh, well," he continues, "now it's my toin t'pawp off. I hoid'jeh went'a t'bawl game wit' Bink Scanlan yestehday." "What?" whats Solly. "Yeh, bunch'vus went. What's it to yeh?" "Jus' stay away f'rm 'eh, is what," warns Jimmy. "Ah," snickers Solly. "Whas'SAT s'posta mean?" growls Jimmy. "Y'wawtch too many movies, chubby," laughs Solly. Jimmy bristles and jerks up his fist, but Solly snaps forward and grabs his wrist, twisting it down. "Me, onna ot'eh han'," grins Solly thru clenched teeth, "t'ree 'na half yeehs inna Awrmy, I neveh had much t'ime f'movies." "T'is ain' oveh," snarls Jimmy, rubbing his wrist. "Heh," hehs Solly. "Did it even stawrt?")

("He's roit," laughs Uncle Frank. "Y'DO waaaatch too many moovies!")

(Tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick...)

("Th' ****** oidear!" sputters Ma. "Flooncin' aroond that baaalpaaark, swillin' doon beer! In YAAAAR ****dition!" "I on'y had one," protests Bink. "Ain'a gal gotta right t'go out'n have a few laughs?" "That's hoo yee gaat in yarr ****dition!" snorts Ma. "Well," argues Bink, "ain'choo t'one tol' me t'drink a glassa t'at black stuff, what'cha cawl it?" "Milk stoot," declares Ma. "Milk stoot is FOOD, an' it's good far'yee, naaaht that yallar pooley they sell at that ****** baaahlfield." "Ahhh," scorns Bink, "whatta you know about it." "Oi knoo I been thru it twoice," retorts Ma, "an' with a damfool hoosband couldn't stay away froom th' stoof. Oh, let me tell ye, me gaaarl, Oi was joost as yoong as you woonce, an' jooost as stuuupid. Whoy, back in Oireland Oi was ivven YOONGAR than you an' TWOICE as stuupid." Ma pauses to catch her breath, aware that Bink is staring at her. "Nivvar moind Oi said that," Ma mutters. "An' Oi nivvar said thaaat." "Yeh," nods Bink, pondering...)

(I dunno, I think he looks rather dignified.)

(I bet he has a whole drawer full of those volleyball magazines.)

(Tsk. Shoulda used gouache.)

(Some detective.)

("Eddie's dad? You mean the county coroner?")

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

New York's Picture Newspaper.

Shed a tear for Imogene, once a star of Page Four, now an Extra Added Attraction.

I wasn't aware that intercity buses picked up smelly bums. Oh wait, I was.

"Of course you know that, being neutral, I would never betray you at the earliest opportunity."

Warbucks is that kid in the schoolyard who starts fights so he can stand back and watch.

Miss Snipe!!! She's too smart for you, chuckles.

You mean another one?

I wonder if she's ever heard Art Tatum?

"Awww, you can't tell me you don't remember that rumble seat...."

Yep, it's a flying ****.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And also...

How hath the mighty fallen...

And in the Worker...

It's good to see that Hamlet O. Catenaccio is on the right side of history.

MacPhail is just like Rickey in a lot of ways -- talks a lot but doesn't say much. But in other ways, two men could not possibly be more different...

 

[Fading Fast]

"1,000 Planes Batter Path Through Heart of Japan."

Why are they not surrendering?

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"S'a good t'ing you was aroun'," grins Alice, "t'teach 'im..."

Alice is still the best.

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"Me, onna ot'eh han'," grins Solly thru clenched teeth, "t'ree 'na half yeehs inna Awrmy, I neveh had much t'ime f'movies." "T'is ain' oveh," snarls Jimmy, rubbing his wrist. "Heh," hehs Solly. "Did it even stawrt?"

Liking him more and more everyday.

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"Nivvar moind Oi said that," Ma mutters. "An' Oi nivvar said thaaat."

Hmm, everybody's got secrets. I think we now know the real reason Ma left Ireland. And this is one more thing Sally doesn't know.

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I bet he has a whole drawer full of those volleyball magazines.

Now, Lizzie, we shouldn't think that way (but you're 100% correct).

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Shed a tear for Imogene, once a star of Page Four, now an Extra Added Attraction.

No kidding, but she might rank again when her trial starts up in the fall.

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I wonder if she's ever heard Art Tatum?

I wouldn't bet against Two-Ton having some volleyball magazines tucked away himself.

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How hath the mighty fallen...

I think she takes a very democratically mercenary approach to her career - "pay me the right amount and I'll do it."

"Does not tot dresses or men's shirts"

I'm pretty sure I know what they are saying, but what does "tot" mean?

 

[LizzieMaine]

I think that's smudgy printing, it should say "rot," as in what aluminum-based products will do to the underarms of your garments. Hence the popularity of rubber dress shields.

Of course, Gyps doesn't have to worry so much about that, always being so well-ventilated.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("T'squeaky wheel," snickers Sally, "gets t'grease. We gawt t'at rat Bilbo awna run now, you wait'n see. Alla Brooklyn's goin' afteh'rim!" "He don' live 'eeh t'ough," notes Alice. "He'd be scaieht t'deat' t'even set foot 'eeh. S'what's he caeh what people 'eeh t'ink about 'im?" Sally considers this for a moment. "You remembeh Bill Terry?" she propounds. "Yeh, sueh," nods Alice. "Ev'rybody r'membehs Bill Terry." "Remembeh what he said t'at time?" continues Sally. "'Is Brooklyn still inna league?' An' remembeh what we done about t'at? Now I ask yeh -- whe'z Bill Terry now?" Alice considers this. "Huh," she huhs. "I gawt no ideeeh." "Ex-ack'ly!" declares Sally. "An'na't's what weeh gonna do t'Bilbo!" "Huh," huhs Alice. "Wheh *IS* Bill Terry, anyways?")

("See t'eh," indicates Joe, sliding the paper across the counter so Leonora can see the photo at which he is pointing. "T'at's whatcha cawl a helleh-copteh. It's t'is new t'ing t'ey gawt, it's'is t'ing kin'a like a plane, see, 'cept it ain' got no wings. Awl it's gawt izzis big pr'pelleh awna tawp, see? An'nat spins an' picks t'whole t'ing right up awff t'groun'." Leonora absorbs all this, studies the photograph, and then looks up at the ceiling fan, grinding its way thru the torpid afternoon air. "Don' worry, Pa," she solemnly admonishes her father. "I don' t'ink ya crazy. An' when Lottie Schriebstien said ya crazy, I hit 'eh wit' a brick." "Ah," ahs Joe. "She said Ma is crazy too," Leonora continues. "But t'at one, I give 'eh." "Um," ums Joe....)


("Come in, Mendel," greets Magistrate Solomon, as a secretary ushers Mr. Ginsburg into his chambers. "Always good to see you. Tell me," he continues as Mr. Ginsburg takes a seat, "what do you hear from Milton? I haven't had a letter in months." "Still overseas he is," Mr. Ginsburg sighs. "Lots of work for an Army lawyer. These trials that are coming..." "Ohh," ohs the Magistrate. "To be in the middle of all that. Well, anyway, what can I do for you today?" "This matter," replies Mr. Ginsburg, "of Mr. and Mrs. Krause, and the boy, Willie. Alice is telling me the adoption papers have not yet come. She worries." "Ah," ahs the Magistrate. "Well, you know, there's been a lot of work lately..." "Oh yes," nods Mr. Ginsburg, pointedly. "In the papers I read. Jukeboxes. Chickens, yet." "Mm," shrugs the Magistrate, conceding the point as he reaches for a folder. He riffles thru its contents and carefully weighs his words. "It seems," he explains, "there are -- ah -- certain questions concerning -- well -- that is to say -- certain documents in this case that..." "Papers," nods Mr. Ginsburg. "Little dots of ink. Perhaps certain things they say. But your own eyes also say. These people I know, Charles, these people I know well. And I see. You have met them, with them you have talked. Tell me, please, what do *your* eyes tell you?" "Hmm," exhales the Magistrate...)

(And in a grubby little Manhattan office, Mickey Spillane wonders if it might be time to get out of comics...)

("Hey Rat-trap," breezes Solly Pincus, sauntering into the store as Bink Scanlan doesn't sweep the floor. "Heh," he hehs, "t'way you lean awn'at t'ing, t'ey'da loved ya awna WPA." "Fold in ya eehs, Dumbo," scoffs Bink. "Ya downdraf' is messin' up me dust." "Hey," Solly continues as he slides onto a stool, "tell me sump'n. You goin' aroun' wit' t'at meatbawl Jimmy Leary?" "I seen'im some," shrugs Bink. "Least I t'ink so. Y'can't really tell t'two ov'm apawrt, y'know." "Well," continues Solly, "Y'betteh wawtch out. He's gawt it bad." "Huh?" huhs Bink with a snap of her gum. "Yeh," nods Solly. "He tried'a stawrt sump'n wit' me t'ot'eh day 'cause you went'a t'bawlgame wit' us. Come on like some kin'a ten-cent hood. I t'ought it was a gag at fois', but 'e's serious. S'like I say, y'betteh wawtch it." "Huh," repeats Bink, for want of a better response. "Anyways," sighs Solly, "reason I come in 'eeh -- you ain' seen my billfold, have ya? I had it when we went'a t'game, an'nen we come back 'eeh afteh, but I ain' seen it since." "Zat so?" nods Bink. "Yeh," nods Solly. "Lemme know if ya come acrawst it." "Oh yeh," replies Bink....)

(Oh these Modern Marriages...)

("Imagine that, so am I!")

( Don't rub too hard, now, Jane, you'll spoil the craquelure.)

(Huh, looks like someone who might lift your wallet on the subway.)

("Oh well. Do me a favor, Junior, and throw one of those bones in the soup kettle...")

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

Well, he certainly sounds like a catch.

Miss Ziobro was voted by her classmates "Most Likely To Appear On Page Four."

"Exact change only."

You know what's funny? Grass stops growing by the middle part of August.

Glower harder, Terry. Glower with all your might.

Yep. Anyone for volleyball??

Well, there's your solution. Tops can out-mooch anyone you can name.

And the funny thing is, Izzy never even heard of this guy.

"Watch closely, Governor, you won't believe how he does it..."

C'mon, Mamie, grab a folding chair.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily Worker...

"What'cha mawrkin' awna calendeh t'eh?" queries Joe, as Sally draws a circle on a certain August date. "Jus' plannin' t'go t't'bawlgame," Sally replies. "Awta be a good one..."

 

[Fading Fast]

"3D Fleet's Score: 1023 Enemy Ships, 1257 Planes Bagged in 21 Days—Destroyers Rain Shells on Shimizu."

Why are they not surrendering?

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"She said Ma is crazy too," Leonora continues. "But t'at one, I give 'eh."

LOL.

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"It seems," he explains, "there are -- ah -- certain questions concerning -- well -- that is to say -- certain documents in this case that..." "Papers," nods Mr. Ginsburg. "Little dots of ink. Perhaps certain things they say. But your own eyes also say. These people I know, Charles, these people I know well. And I see. You have met them, with them you have talked. Tell me, please, what do *your* eyes tell you?" "Hmm," exhales the Magistrate...

Let's get this done. It's too dangerous a loose end.

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"reason I come in 'eeh -- you ain' seen my billfold, have ya? I had it when we went'a t'game, an'nen we come back 'eeh afteh, but I ain' seen it since."

Oh, Bink! Give the man his wallet back – at least give him the hard-to-replace documents.

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Oh these Modern Marriages...

Are these two married?

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Don't rub too hard, now, Jane, you'll spoil the craquelure.

What!? Is that what they called it in 1940s slang? (Checks Google.) Oh, fine cracks in an old painting. All's good, carry on.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Didja vote yestehday?" queries Alice. "I din' see ya oveh't school afteh woik." "Huh?" huhs Sally. "T'primary," reminds Alice. "Din'cha vote?" "Ehhh," ehhs Sally. "T'at din' mean nut'n'ta me, ain' nut'n inna ALP goin' awn I need t'sett'l." "I figyehed Oil Browdeh'd be jernin' up wit'choo guys," shrugs Alice. "Huh?" huhs Sally. "Dinchoo see t'at?" gapes Alice. "Browdeh ain'na head'a t' Comm'niss no moeh. Yawr awrways read'nat Daily Woikeh, din'choo see t'at?" "Eh," ehs Sally. "T'ey had a wholebuncha stuff 'bout t'at business, but I din' get aroun'ta read'n it awl. T'at guy Fosteh t'ey gawt inneh, I get sick'v'im, one'a t'ese guys in love wit'a soun'a'v 'is own verce. Browdeh was a smawrt guy, an' at' leas' he had sump'n t'say." "I figyehed y'd be awl woun' up about it," shrugs Alice. "I got a lawt on my min'," sighs Sally. "Y'know what Leonoreh said t'ot'eh night? She said t'me, 'Ma, am I gonna grow up t'be crazy too? Whez she GET"N'AT stuff???" "Ahhhhh," dismisses Alice. "You ain'' so bad when y'get use'ta yeh." "I'm glad," exhales Sally, "I gawt at leas' one friend.")

("We doona pretty good business in th' back room yistarrday," nods Ma, her pencil tapping a ledger page tightly covered with small figures. "Ivven with that waaaatered whiskey ye give me." "Oi hoop ye used it aaahl oop," sighs Uncle Frank. "Oi had th' boys takin' doon th' still laaast noit', an' that was th' laaast'a me oold stock. Froom noo aaahn, Oi'm in th' Aaarmy sarrploos business. T'marra me'n Solly are gooin' doon'ta Philly to look oovar a looda stoff." "Yaar really serious aboot this, aaahr ye?" frowns Ma. "Oi am," affirms Uncle Frank. "Oi've tool'jee toime an' again, it's th' biggest thing Oi ivvar got intarr. An' it's aaaaahl leegal. Which is goin' to coot way back aaahn me expenses." "Doyle's gaaaana give ye a discoont aahn protection?" snickers Ma. "That'll be a faaaaarst. Well, doon't get'chee noo ideas Oi'm goin' t'shoot doon MY oparrations. Oi can't make a livin' sellin' egg creams to booms an' loofars." "What if Oi toold'jee," propounds Uncle Frank, "if this aaahl waaarks oot, ye moit naaht have to aaaarn noo livin'. Ye could retire." "Soo Oi c'n sit aroond an' listen t'soop operas," scoffs Ma, "whoile I sew a new patch in ye drawers? Ye been drinkin' oop yaar oold stock, Mistarr Man, if ye thinkin' that." "Th' oonly thing I'm waaaaried aboot," frowns Uncle Frank, "is Solly thinks 'e's roonin' th' whool intarrproise." "Oi would think," snorts Ma, "that's th' woon thing ye gaaaht gooin' far ye...")

("Ahhh," frowns Jimmy Leary. "I dowanna see no Sinatreh pitcheh. He's a lawng streak'a nut'n." "Suits me," flips Bink. "I'll go by meself. Awrrr maybe I'll see if t'at guy wit' t' eehs wawnts t' go." "T'at guy!" snaps Jimmy. "You stay AWAY fr'm t'at guy." "Hmph," hmphs Bink, glancing at her left hand. "I don' see no ring onneh. Guess I c'n go t'wa pitcheh wit' anybody I wanna." "Oh, t'at's t'way it is, is it?" scowls Jimmy. "Looks'at way," snips Bink, with a pop of her gum. "Awright," glowers Jimmy. "I'll go see t' Sinatreh pitcheh." "Y'know what," parries Bink, "Awn secon' t'ought I do'wanna go t'no pitcheh show. I t'ink I'm gonna stay home an' lissent'a radio. Wit' -- Ma," she adds pointedly. "An' -- Uncle Frank. You c'n jern us if ya wawnt." "Um," ums Jimmy. "I jus' remembehed, I'm -- uh -- s'posta be woikin' oveh t'waehhouse..." "Tell t'ot'eh one I said 'hi,' calls Bink, heading up the back stairs as Jimmy stalks out...)

(It's all theatre.)

(Well, if Buckshot's playing third, it'll be harder for him to throw the ball in the dugout.)

(Are you sure this isn't a gag from "Truth Or Consequences?")

(Yeah yeah, whatever. What I want to know is how they got Hu Shee to play this other student.)

(CLASSIFIED ADS GET RESULTS!)

(Is he worth all the ticks you'll get from that haystack?)

(If there's something stupid to be done, Worst Dad Ever will do it!)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

Every family tree has its sap.

If you'd pay the light bill, kids, you wouldn't need to use a candle.

"Now shut up and enjoy the scenery. Look, a concrete aqueduct!"

Some vacation, being held at ***point by an insane -- um -- pharmacist?

All right, it's about time Terry admits he met Pyzon in 1938.

Point of order: if you rug him, you still won't have the information you want.

Mamie's a natural at this.

"It's not my posture, it's the broken springs in this stupid chair!" DONT YOU KNOW THERE'S A WAR ON?

Ars gratia artis.

You really should let Tops handle this. He used that trick on you in high school.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And also...

"Bilbonic plague."

 

[Fading Fast]

"Land Plane, Sub Batter Jap Cities."

Why are they not surrendering?

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"Th' oonly thing I'm waaaaried aboot," frowns Uncle Frank, "is Solly thinks 'e's roonin' th' whool intarrproise." "Oi would think," snorts Ma, "that's th' woon thing ye gaaaht gooin' far ye..."

Yup, I agree with Ma. Let him run it and just take your cut.

So are Frank, Solly, and Lowry (is that his name?) gonna open up an Army/Navy store? Otherwise, where are they gonna sell this stuff? It seems they are buying it wholesale, but then they need to sell it retail.

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"Ahhh," frowns Jimmy Leary. "I dowanna see no Sinatreh pitcheh. He's a lawng streak'a nut'n." "Suits me," flips Bink. "I'll go by meself. Awrrr maybe I'll see if t'at guy wit' t' eehs wawnts t' go." "T'at guy!" snaps Jimmy. "You stay AWAY fr'm t'at guy." "Hmph," hmphs Bink, glancing at her left hand. "I don' see no ring onneh. Guess I c'n go t'wa pitcheh wit' anybody I wanna." "Oh, t'at's t'way it is, is it?" scowls Jimmy. "Looks'at way," snips Bink, with a pop of her gum. "Awright," glowers Jimmy. "I'll go see t' Sinatreh pitcheh." "Y'know what," parries Bink, "Awn secon' t'ought I do'wanna go t'no pitcheh show. I t'ink I'm gonna stay home an' lissent'a radio. Wit' -- Ma," she adds pointedly. "An' -- Uncle Frank. You c'n jern us if ya wawnt." "Um," ums Jimmy. "I jus' remembehed, I'm -- uh -- s'posta be woikin' oveh t'waehhouse..." "Tell t'ot'eh one I said 'hi,' calls Bink, heading up the back stairs as Jimmy stalks out...

That's a good, healthy relationship those kids got there. I see good things for their future.

Re the model railroad article. Model railroads are another thing you'll start to notice in more old movies than you think once you are aware of them. They even play into the plot in a few like "Four's a Crowd" (1938) staring Page Four regular Errol Flynn: https://www.tiktok.com/video/7247120296359087361
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Some vacation, being held at ***point by an insane -- um -- pharmacist?

Donald Meek is just hoping the "pharmacist" role lasts for weeks as he could use the work.

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Point of order: if you rug him, you still won't have the information you want.

I agree. I think Gray's been off his meds for weeks now. The whole way he brought Warbucks and crew back has been very odd.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Ahhhl roit," shouts Uncle Frank as the engine of the weary old truck finally catches. Solly Pincus, his hands smeared with grease, exhales with frustraton and with a tinny clank yanks the hood closed. "I t'ought," he gruffs, wiping his hands on a dishrag and tossing it back to Ma, who stands in front of the store in the early morning haze glaring with disapproval, "I T'OUGHT you was gonna borreh a betteh truck offen'at butcheh. Dinchoo say he owes ya?" "He oows HIM," shouts Ma, as Solly steps up on the quivering running board and hauls himself aboard. "We oota make Philly by nine," Uncle Frank calls out. "Three an' a haaalf hoors," scoffs Ma. "In that ****** tin can. If yarr LOOCKY!" "Oi'll caaaahl ye laaang distance whin we get tharr," shouts Uncle Frank, revving the engine and reaching for the gear handle. "YE BETTAR NAAAHT CAAAL COOLECT!" bellows Ma, as the truck wheezes into motion and rattles up Rogers Avenue. Next door, the proprietor of the Flatbush Pharmacy snickers as he fumbles with his keys. "Ahhhh, droy oop," growls Ma, hoisting two heavy bundles of newspapers off the sidewalk and sighing into another day....)

("I jus' can' get ovehr't," sighs Sally as she and Alice turn off 18th Avenue onto 63rd Street toward home. "I go t' Loew's Met an'nat hokey manageh can't wait t'jump aawl oveh me jus' cause I wanna see t'newsreel again, but 'e lets'em kids t'row each o'teh off t'balcony, raise awl kinsa hell be'foeh'ee puts'm out. Don' even stawp t'pitcheh!" "Takes awl kines," commisserates Alice as they climb the stoop and enter the foyer. "I gawt mail," notes Alice with a glance at the boxes. She produces her key, jerks open the little brass grate, and pulls out a garish hand-colored postcard of trees, cabins, and a lake. "It's fr'm Willie," she announces. 'Deeh Ma,' he says 'I don't know why t'ey cawlis 'Beah Mountain,' cause I have seen no beahs. T'eh is no Indians neit'eh, but Misteh Freund says tey awr heeh in spirit. T'food is good an' I am havin' fun. Pap got stung by a bee an' is swelt up so he can't blow his whistle so he hits a fryin' pan instead. I miss you lots an' will see you soon. Love Willie.'" "Heh," hehs Sally. "T'at's pretty good. I wisht Leonoreh was ol' enough t'go t'camp." "An'nen," chuckles Alice, "t'ezza P. S. 'Pap says yeh.'" "I hate bees," shudders Sally. "Huh," she adds. "Lookit'eh -- Missis Nucci ain' takin' in 'eh mail again. I dunno why she does'at." "Wisht I had a key t'weh box." shrugs Alice, "I'd take it up'tweh." "Ahh," dismisses Sally, "you know how she is. Prob'ly slam t'dooeh in ya face." "Yeh, I s'pose," concedes Alice. "I'm goin in' an' get dinneh f't' Ginsboigs -- you awta come down. I'm makin' kreplach." "You got meat? Whatcha putt'n it 'em?" queries Sally. "I dunno," sighs Alice. "Maybe jus' prawmises....")

("So tell me sump'n," requests Bink Scanlan, leaning across the denuded meat counter at the Rogers Avenue Bohack's as she addresses her confidante Rosa. "Whatta you know about t'is guy wit' t' eehs, t'is Solly Pinkbaum a'whateveh'ris name is?" "I dunno," shrugs Rosa, poking at a sad display of tissue-thin cold cuts. "I know him an', you know, Jawn Gawrfield t'eh useta run aroun' t'get'eh b'foeh t'wawr. I hoid t'ey woiked t'get'eh innis pickle fact'ry up in Williamsboig. Hey, y'know, its a pity how t'at guy married t'wawkin' mout' t'eh. Good lookin' guy like him, such a waste." "Ahh, he's awright," dismisses Bink. "He's quiet, mines 'is own business, don' get invawlved in none'a t'crazy junk goes awn innat stoeh. But t'is guy wit' t' eehs is right inna mid'l'vit. Him an' Fatty's gawn awf on some trip a'sump'n innat stupid truck. An' I wanna know what's'is stawry. He got dough a'what? I dipped 'im t'ot'eh day but 'e din' have no moeh'na coupla bucks inneh, an' a dischawrge cawrd, an' a key t'wa room at' t' YMHA. Jeez, I hope 'ee din' hafta climb in no windeh." "Soich me," replies Rosa, wiping her hands on her apron. "Hey, you gonna buy anyt'ing a'what? T'at manageh's been leanin' awn me f' loafin'. How'm I spost'a sell meat when we ain' got no meat t'sell." "Leas' you ain't gotta sweep no flooehs," frowns Bink. "T'ol' lady runs me ragged." "Life's hawrd," sighs Rosa. "Y'dunno t' half'v'it.." concludes Bink...)

("I hear Speer does a good singing act.")

("I don't know anything about it," swears Mr. Parrott. "Now pardon me, I need to give Howie this French phrase book.")

(You know, you don't get anywhere in life if you aren't willing to make sacrifices.)

("But I thought art schools were hives of Bohemian degeneracy! It said so in the Reader's Digest!")

(Always listen to a comic-strip secretary wearing glasses. She's the smartest one in the whole company.)

(Hey Ella, here's the guy you want!)

(Over the years we've followed this strip I have often wished ill on Worst Dad Ever, but I really don't want to see him eaten by a bizarre tribe of rural cannibals.)