The Era -- Day By Day

[LizzieMaine]

As I've said, I bet Mike Gold and Harold Gray get together for drinks after work. Neither knows they'll ever change the other's mind, and after a few shots, they probably don't care.

Hikda's post-Dodger life was unbearably sad. One more reason to hope that somewhere, Walter O'Malley got his just due.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("I wouldn' ride awnat Franklin Aveneh cawr if ya gimme t' whole line," sniffs Bink Scanlan. "You couldn' comb t'dips outa t'at crowd wit' a rake." "Lotta low charactehs innis town," agrees Solly Pincus. "Not jus' low," continues Bink. "I'm tawkin' way down undeh. What kin'a louse steals fr'm some lady jus' min'in 'eh'rown business. An' jus' grab 'n run? 'At's strickly bush league. Kids t'day!" "Awrfl," snickers Solly, as they stroll along Midwood Street toward Rogers Avenue. "By t'way," adds Bink, "I was sweepin' up inna stoeh an' I foun'is wallet. Might be youehs, it's gowtcha draf' cawrd in it." "Ah," chuckles Solly, as they disappear into the evening...)

("Whatcha pickin' atcha face fawr?" queries Alice. "Ya gotta rash?" "I gotta haieh growin' on my chin," frowns Sally. "Right'eh. I'm try'na pull it out." "Shouln' do t'at," warns Alice. "It'll grow back lawngeh. I knew a gal -- um -- upstate, had a haieh growin' awn'eh chin six inches lawng. She useta say she was gonna jern'a coicus afteh she got outta -- bein' upstate. I should go t' t' coicus nex' time, see'f she's'eh." "T'ey got t'is t'ing inna papeh," notes Sally. "''Lectrolysis. T'ey stick a 'letric needle in ya face, boin'a haieh right out. I t'ought I might look int'wit." "Ow," winces Alice. "Might be easieh jernin'a coicus." "What?" "Nut'n...")

("You hoid me," conspires Heckie Capiello, leaning against the counter. "I c'n getcha toikey wholesale." "Go aaaahn," nods Uncle Frank, his voice lowered. "Me sisteh woiks at Bohack's," continues Heckie. "She's gawt t'key t' t' meat lockeh. Y'get me?" "Hoo mooch?" demands Uncle Frank. "Foehty cents a poun'," offers Heckie. "Butcha gotta take at least a twenny poun' boid. T'make it woit' me while." "Tharrrty-foive," counteroffers Uncle Frank." "I can't get no toikey 'at big," dismisses Heckie. "No," frowns Uncle Frank. "Oi mean Oi'l give ye thaarty foive cents a pound far a twenny pound baaard." "Ain' no twenny poun' chickens," scoffs Heckie. "Ahhl roit, ye little poirate," scowls Uncle Frank. "Tharrty eight cents." "Deal," agrees Heckie. "But I gotta get it to ya t'night." "Wharrr'm OI gonna poot a twenny-****d taaarkey?" sputters Uncle Frank. "Thaaanksgivin' ain't faaar two weeks!" "I c'n help ya t'eh," offers Heckie. "Fifty cents a day, an' Rosa can -- you know -- rent'cha space inna Bohack's meat lockeh. Put it inna corneh, t'row a boilap bag ovehr'it'a sump'n." "Hmmm," hmms Uncle Frank. "Oi got a bettar oidear. You d'livar that' tarrkey t'me ploombin' shaap, oop on Bedfard Avenaaar. Oi'll take it froom tharr." "Jus' don' say nut'n," warns Heckie. "Special t't'at guy hangs aroun'eeh wit' t' eehs." "Naaaht a waaard," promises Uncle Frank, with impeccable sincerity...)

(You'll find those in the ladies' department. As if you didn't know.)

(The Braves with owners willing to spend money? Guess that means we don't have much chance of trading for the other Tommy Holmes.)

(Did we miss something? Who's this guy, another surveyor??)

(I dunno, she seems the type who would go along with "hiya, toots.")

(DONT RUN ON THE STAIRS)

(So get her to the hospital already!)


(AMERICA'S NUMBER ONE HERO DOG is not on the clock.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

"Yockey?"

"Not me," sniffs Leonora. "When *I* grow up I'm gonna be Secketery a' Labeh!"

Hey kid, shouldn't you have your points by now?

Dogs can sense things. Like when it's time to eat.


This is why you never pick up hitchhikers.

"Vengeance is mine, I shall repay, saith the Eggheads."

Speaking of those days, wonder if he'll run into Tula.

Eighty years ahead of their time.

Open your wallet, Bim, and wave it under his nose.

Some people just can't stop bringing their work home.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And also...

Radio? Well, it's a step up from burlesque.

And in the Worker --

Say what you will about Frankieeeeeeee but his heart's in the right place.

 

[Fading Fast]

So, the war is over, when do the bond drives stop?

I never heard of Breakstone's coffee, but even for 1945 that is a pretty s*xist ad. Even Kay and Mae don't go this far.

Kay: "Mae, hand me your hairbrush."
Mae: "What for? Yours is right there."
Kay: "You'll see."

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

"T'ey got t'is t'ing inna papeh," notes Sally. "''Lectrolysis. T'ey stick a 'letric needle in ya face, boin'a haieh right out. I t'ought I might look int'wit." "Ow," winces Alice. "Might be easieh jernin'a coicus." "What?" "Nut'n..."

It worked for Rita Hayworth's hairline.

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

"You hoid me," conspires Heckie Capiello, leaning against the counter. "I c'n getcha toikey wholesale." "Go aaaahn," nods Uncle Frank, his voice lowered.

Wow, it really is November if we are already up to Frank's annual contretemps to find a real turkey big enough for Thanksgiving dinner.

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

So get her to the hospital already!

He needs to brag a bit more first. He's the guy who hands in the six-page "self-review" doc to his boss.

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

"Yockey?"

He's a gambler, wife (probably) r*ped first and then murdered, but money and jewels untouched - there's more to this story than the News even hinted at. Hopefully, they'll keep covering it.

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

"Vengeance is mine, I shall repay, saith the Eggheads."

Little Wonder Chemistry Set." (On the back) "From: Los Alamos...."

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

Say what you will about Frankieeeeeeee but his heart's in the right place.

I very much agree – he was sincere. But the thing is, Frank, in anger, could fire out a racist comment. Today, anything said in anger is supposed to "prove" who the person really is, but sometimes a person says things in anger that he/she doesn't believe. Our social media world doesn't accept that nuance.

 

[LizzieMaine]

It would be fascinating and instructive to see what would have happened if Mr. Sinatra had lived to see the days of social media.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Y'know whatcha get when ya give a rat a ***?" spits Sally. "A rat wit' a ***. I dunno what terlet t'ey pull'ese cawps outa, but I'll tell ya one t'ing, O'Dwyeh betteh put a stawp to it." "Ain'choo got a ***?" queries Alice. "Nah," nahs Sally. "Joe haddat lit'l beanshooteh in his sawk draweh somebody give'im, but afteh Leonoreh was bawrn he gawt rid'v it. You know how Joe is about ***s. Din' wannit inna house no moeh. He give it t' Uncle Frank, 'n I guess 'e sold it awr hocked it awr sump'n. "Siddy had a ***," notes Alice. "He brung it back fr'm t'wawr, but it's awl rusty. I t'ink e's gawt it in a cigar box inna berleh room." "I know how t'shoot a ***," shrugs Sally. "R'membeh I tol' ya when I was lit'l, Uncle Frank haddis ***, 'n 'e took me'n Mickey out t' Barren Islan' one time an' let us shoot it at some ol' bones a' sump'n. I r'membeh he says 'don' tell nobody, special' notcha Ma.' She don' like ***s, y'know, Ma don't. She keeps'at blackjack undeh t' couneh' case anybody tries t'rob t' stoeh, but she don' like no ***s. But I guess Uncle Frank needed it f' woik." "He did?" gapes Alice. "Yeh," nods Sally. "Awlat coppeh pipe he useta hawl aroun' inna truck t'eh, t'at's woit' money. An' y'know, back in'nem days, y'know, when Prohibition was goin' awn, he needed a *** 'case somebody tried t' steal 'em pipes. I guess t' bootleggehs useta use'em pipes t' make a still." "Izzat so?" chokes Alice. "Yeh," shrugs Sally, "I guess havin' a *** makes sense f'ra plumbeh." "Yeh," sweats Alice...)

(And you know what? Not one of those divorces in 1945 has included Tommy Manville.)

("Joseph," calls Ma, as she emerges from the back room with her day's receipts. "Have ye seen Francis?" "He was'eeh 'bout haff'noueh'rago," replies Joe, sliding together a sandwich for a hungry customer. "He made a buncha phone cawls, an'nen took awff. Said 'e had t'go see a man 'bout some ice." "Oice???" frowns Ma, resting her canvas bag on the counter. "Whot's'at blooody gombeen waaant with oice?" "Dunno," responds Joe, taking an order from a group of schoolchildren. "But 'e took t'truck. Maybe'ee's goin' inna ice business." "If Francis ivvar goos in th' oice business," eyerolls Ma, "figyarrs 'e'd do it in Noovimbarr...")

(I thought Colonel Blimp was British.)

(Last year, shaving basketball points. Yesterday, rigged track meets. Today, horse doping. Isn't anyone ever going to get around to throwing hockey games?)

("No, ma'am, we're Local 802 of the Stocking Models Union CIO.")

(What ever became of Fifi D'Orsay?)

(I always wondered how cops got their clubs to oscillate like that. Do they learn that in training?)

("Our only client this month! And today is payday!")

(And suddenly he wakes up as Best Dad Ever!)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

Alternate universe Middle Class Sally doesn't have to ride the Hudson & Manhattan to New Jersey every day.

And imagine the benefit to slot machine operators.

C'mon, at least let him run into Snipe.

You need the shoes too, they really do make the outfit.

Gumps Noir.

Masher.

Would you care for a Knickerbocker beer? Or some Quaker oats?

You're in a new line of work now, kid.

Ehh, just sleep on your left side. Always works for me.

Kayo hates the word filter too.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And also...

Master Sergeant Ezra Stone is resigned to his fate.

And in the Worker...

Who says the left doesn't have a sense of humor.

Little late on this one, Nat. Shoulda talked to Dressen instead of the mail boy.

 

[Fading Fast]

..."Awlat coppeh pipe he useta hawl aroun' inna truck t'eh, t'at's woit' money. An' y'know, back in'nem days, y'know, when Prohibition was goin' awn, he needed a *** 'case somebody tried t' steal 'em pipes. I guess t' bootleggehs useta use'em pipes t' make a still." "Izzat so?" chokes Alice. "Yeh," shrugs Sally, "I guess havin' a *** makes sense f'ra plumbeh." "Yeh," sweats Alice...

In for a penny, in for a pound.

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

And you know what? Not one of those divorces in 1945 has included Tommy Manville.

Now do the Hollywood "colony."

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

Last year, shaving basketball points. Yesterday, rigged track meets. Today, horse doping. Isn't anyone ever going to get around to throwing hockey games?

Well, at least we don't have any of those problems today.

While, as the article notes, it seems like a stupid horse and stupid race to pull it on, maybe that was the thought: to wit, no one will suspect or check and we'll make a quick buck betting on the nag.

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

And imagine the benefit to slot machine operators.

Rounding up: 5 cents is about $1 today, so 10 cents would be about $2. Hence Magnhild is asking the government to print $1.50 coins in today's terms. Thank you for playing Magnhild.

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

Gumps Noir.

Casting for Andy and Bim is going to be a challenge.

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

Would you care for a Knickerbocker beer? Or some Quaker oats?

I like that Annie's hair stayed shocked in panel three.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Nah," nahs Sally, emerging from the November dank of the 18th Avenue BMT station into the November gloom of 18th Avenue itself. "I don' t'ink t'ez gonna be a strike. T"at Mickey Mouse comp'ny union ain' gawt t'guts t' strike a match inna dawrk room." "Sounded pretty serious," observes Alice. "T'ey been havin' meet'ns." "Playin' gin rummy wit' t' bawsses," scoffs Sally. Now lemme tell ya..." But what Sally intends to tell is suddenly cut short by a rising commotion in the crowd of disgorged Bensonhurt commuters, as a lithe figure bursts forward. "HEY!" shouts Alice, as the racing figure shoves her against a wall. "HEY!" erupts Sally, as the figure snatches her handbag away and dashes recklessly up the street. "STAWP!" bellows Sally. "T'IEF!!! T'IEF!!!!!")

("Frank," greets Solly, stepping into the plumbing office. "Lissen, izza truck runnin'? I needja t'drive out t' Lawng Islan' City. I gotta handle awn ten gross a' ovehcoats. We clip awf t' buttons, we'cn sell'm for six bucks apiece." "Ah,' hesitates Uncle Frank, "Well, Solly, it's -- ah -- it's loike this. Th' troock is...." "You said you was gonna get it fixed!" accuses Solly. "I give ya a check an'..." "Hey Pop!" interrupts Danny, bursting into the office via the rear entrance. "T'ez wawteh drippin' out t' back'a t'truck. Big puddle, like it's been drippin' awl...""Hey Pop!" interjects Jimmy, bursting in via the workshop. "T'ezza ice man 'eeh, says 'ee's gawt t' hunnet poun's ya awrded..." "Whatta you upta now?" growls Solly, his eyes narrowing. "Well, ah..." hesitates Uncle Frank. "Tell me lad, whotta ye doin' farr Thanksgivin'...?")

("These motorbikes ain't holdin up so well either. Look how th' springs sag.")

(Pfund? "Gesundheit!")

(Odds that it's Ella's horrible stepmother 1-1, either of her horrible stepsisters 2-1, that girl from "Wilbur Wackey" trying for a new job 10-1, ****y ****le on the rebound from Oakdale 50-1, Jinx Falkenburg 100-1.)

("There's so many of these phony countesses around it's impossible for a real countess to get a break!")

(It's hard to maintain your dignity in a position like that, but somehow Janie does it.)

("But the way she said it was all mumbly and strange, like every letter got replaced by an asterisk!")

(There's one in every crowd.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

Of course, we all remember ****y ****le, daugher of George and Josephine ****le, in Harry Tuthill's late and lamented comic strip "The ****le Family." And I do have to say, by censoring their names in this way, our friend the Idiotic Word Censoring A I Robot is teaching me more about modern obscenities than I ever thought poissible. Who says A I isn't a boon to education.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News ---


"Whatta woil' t' grow up in." -- Leonora.

You will recall that it was Leo's comments to the Daily Worker in 1942 that he'd "love to sign ***** players if he could" that triggered the late Judge Landis's statement that there *was* no official color line in the game, thus initiating a chain of events that brought the situation to where it is. Like his buddy Frankieeee, whatever else you can, and will, say about him, Leo's heart is in the right place.

Spies have a simple vetting process. Don't talk, and you're in. Talk, and you get shoved out of the plane.

Seems when you lived there before, she let you use the phone. What is this strange power you have over landladies?

"Oh, well -- as long as we're dressed for it, how 'bout a swim?"

Welcome to middle age, son. It only gets worse from here.

I bet if you had a can of Ken-L-Ration in that coat he'd see and hear you.

"Are you sure HE is in here? Shouldn't we look?"

This will make a spectacular Page Four.

It's a good thing Chester Gould never had to deal with Word Censoring A I Robots.

 

[Fading Fast]

"Hey Pop!" interrupts Danny, bursting into the office via the rear entrance. "T'ez wawteh drippin' out t' back'a t'truck. Big puddle, like it's been drippin' awl...""Hey Pop!" interjects Jimmy, bursting in via the workshop. "T'ezza ice man 'eeh, says 'ee's gawt t' hunnet poun's ya awrded..." "Whatta you upta now?" growls Solly, his eyes narrowing. "Well, ah..." hesitates Uncle Frank. "Tell me lad, whotta ye doin' farr Thanksgivin'...?"

Dear God his idiot kids can't read a room.

Separately, I assume they have to cut the buttons off because they have a military designation of some type - right?

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

"There's so many of these phony countesses around it's impossible for a real countess to get a break!"

Bad money drives out good.

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

Of course, we all remember ****y ****le, daugher of George and Josephine ****le, in Harry Tuthill's late and lamented comic strip "The ****le Family." And I do have to say, by censoring their names in this way, our friend the Idiotic Word Censoring A I Robot is teaching me more about modern obscenities than I ever thought poissible. Who says A I isn't a boon to education.

I use ChatGPT ($21/month) everyday in my work and it is 50 times smarter than whatever Davega store Fedora bought this AI program from.

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

You will recall that it was Leo's comments to the Daily Worker in 1942 that he'd "love to sign ***** players if he could" that triggered the late Judge Landis's statement that there *was* no official color line in the game, thus initiating a chain of events that brought the situation to where it is. Like his buddy Frankieeee, whatever else you can, and will, say about him, Leo's heart is in the right place.

You don't get the heroes you want; you get the heroes you get.

 

[LizzieMaine]

Yep, officially all military garments sold on the surplus market as of 1945 are supposed to be "demilitarized" by removing any sort of distinctive insignia. The buttons, bearing the eagle from the Great Seal of the US, were considered official insignia. In practice this was often ignored by fast-buck surplus peddlers, but Solly doesn't mess around.

This robot thing is going from bad to worse to completely ridiculous. I'm trying to overload it and make it explode, like Captain Kirk always does, but so far it's just learning to be even more stupid.

 

[EngProf]

I wish I could give Skeezix some good advice (as if he were a real person).
1. Take your GI Bill benefits and enroll at the University of Tennessee Engineering School (Mechanical Engineering).
With your pre-war R&D experience and Army Ordnance training and experience you would get through that curriculum with no problem.
2. With your past company experience you could get a summer job with the Wumple &Co Research Lab in Oak Ridge (just down the road from Knoxville). It's far away from Chigger/idiot so you should get in with no problem. (extra money)
3. Speaking of money, the cost of living is CHEAP.
4. It's a beautiful location in the foothills of the Smokies.
5 Southern hospitality is there - people are friendly...
Future: With your engineering degree and extensive company experience you can take over Wumple and throw Chigger out in the snow.
*** Some of my own real world experience: Several times I have had the very positive experience of having military veterans similar to Skeezix in my classes. In all cases, they were well beyond the average college student and were working and contributing in our research lab by the time they were in their third undergrad year. (working alongside Master's and Ph.D. grad students)
(How do you communicate with a cartoon character??)

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Well," snorts Flannery the cop, "It took ya lawng'anough t' make repoeht. Howcome ya didn' las' night?" "'Cause I chased t' rat awlaway upta Gravesen' Pawrk," retorts Sally. "An' wazzeh'ra lousy cawp anyweh? Anyways, I lawst 'im someweh, I dunno, it was dawrk out an' my glasses gawt awl fogged up. But 'e got my pocke'book, my money, my plant idennification -- y'know, he c'd be a sabe'tooeh, gonna go out t'eh in disguise, blow up t'whole'a Weste'n Electric!" "Jeez, Sal, y't'ink so?" murmurs Alice. "Maybe I oughta go see'f 'e gawt my badge too." "What'd e' look like?" queries Flannery, with utter disinterest. "I dunno," snaps Sally. "It was dawrk out." "Was 'e a colehed?" interrogates Flannery. "What'sat s'posta mean?" growls Sally. "Lotta colehed muggehs," shrugs Flannery. "Don'cha read t' Daily News?" "Oh yeh?" snarls Sally. "An' I read wheh t'ezza lotta dumb Irish flatfoot cawps. T'ey shoulda lef' you on Staten Islan' wit' t' rest'a t' bums." "Yeh!" injects Alice. "Heh," snorts Flannery. "Hey, how's ya lit'l bawlheaded husban' ?" "Kish mir in toches," sneers Alice. "Oh yeh?" snickers Flannery, twisting Alice's head to examine her profile. "Y'don't look it."

("Yeh," sighs Joe, "she scaiet me half t'deat'. Come runnin' inna doeh, pantin', awl outa breat', said she been chasin' some muggeh 'ra sump'n. I t'ought she was gonna pass out onna floeh, Leonoreh's sittin'eh at t' table wit'eh eyes bugged out t'heeh, Sal's goin' a mile a minute, an' I'm try'na figyeh what's goin' awn, food's gett'n cold..." "So I heard,' nods Dr. Levine. "I know she ain't like evr'ybody says," Joe continues. "I know she ain' crazy. But -- sometimes I wondeh if SHE knows 'at...")

("But why ain't we openin'?" queries Bink Scanlan. "Thar ain't an Oirish candy staarr in this whool city," declares Ma, "thaaat's goin' t'oopen t'day. Make sure aaahl th' doors are laaaahcked. Oi'll be in th' back room countin'.")

(Red Ryder's aunt is Mary Worth's grandmother, CONFIRMED.)

(You can always get a higher price on a used car by detailing it first.)

(Coming events...)

(Well good thing somebody's keeping track.)

(Y'know, hon, there's such a thing as Clairol.)

(Something tells me that Mr. Biddle was not a pleasant neighbor.)

(Leona would like a word with this young lady.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

For a "pink powder puff" that Rudy really got around.

It's not a ***** girdle. It's NOT.

Inside every observational cartoonist, there's a movie critic just waiting for a chance...

Junior has a bright future ahead in pickpocketry.

Haw! Haw!

It's always nice to have fun with your neighbors. And when the OSS is on the case, things get done.

I don't think I've ever seen a ten-pint hat. And women's football is an idea whose time has come.

When Gus goes dark, he goes DARK.

Well, I mean -- monkeys!!

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Worker...

Good piece, Nat -- but how many times do I have to tell you, Sukey is NOT from the South. He isn't even from South Waldoboro.

Honestly, young Eddie is giving us more action than we've seen from Caniff in the past three months.

 

[Fading Fast]

"I know she ain't like evr'ybody says," Joe continues. "I know she ain' crazy. But -- sometimes I wondeh if SHE knows 'at..."



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

"But why ain't we openin'?" queries Bink Scanlan. "Thar ain't an Oirish candy staarr in this whool city," declares Ma, "thaaat's goin' t'oopen t'day. Make sure aaahl th' doors are laaaahcked. Oi'll be in th' back room countin'."

Is that true? Did the Irish bars close too? (Which, based on what I saw in the 1980s, was the majority of them.)

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

This one-time movie-going cultural norm is foreign to almost everyone under (I don't know) 80 today.

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

Well good thing somebody's keeping track.

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

Leona would like a word with this young lady.

It seems all legal, so why bother with the fake accent? You're an American; you married a Frenchman; acquired a title (wealthy American girls were doing that with Englishmen all during the first half of the century); he died; and you're settling his estate - it all seem legit.

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

Junior has a bright future ahead in pickpocketry.

- Barbara "Bink" Scanlan

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

Honestly, young Eddie is giving us more action than we've seen from Caniff in the past three months.

True but not quite up to Caniff's artistry level. It's so bad, it's almost cute.