The Era -- Day By Day

[LizzieMaine]

("Huh?" huhs Leonora, looking up from her book and tilting her head toward Uncle Frank. "Oi ast yee, daarlin'," repeats Uncle Frank, his voice raised to compensate, "whoot'chee readin'?" "She still don' heeh too good outa t'at eeh," explains Joe. "I gotta take 'eh t' see Docteh Glass t'is aftehnoon, so 'e can see how she's doin'." "Lit'l Women," announces Leonora. "I'm read'n Lit'l Women. Now leemee 'lone." "Ain' thaat," suggests Uncle Frank, "a bit groon-oop farr'er?" "Betteh t'en," shrugs Joe, nodding toward the book rack, "F'reveh Ambeh." "Awright, bud," interrupts a workman, jingling thru the door. "Ya windeh's awl fixed. Sign 'eeh." Joe sighs and affixes his name to the billing order. "Whatcha wawn we should'do wit' t'is hunka plywood?" queries the workman." "Poot it aroon back," directs Uncle Frank, "in that troock parked in th' alley." "Ain' no truck out'eh," shrugs the workman. "Jus' mine." "Aaar ye sure?" demands Uncle Frank. "Lessya gawt it cammehflaghed," snickers the workman. "Jus' put it out back t'eh," direct Joe. "Heckie 'n me will stick it downa' basemen' a' sump'n. Y'can t'ake it' t'ru t'back room 'eeh, jus' don' make too much racket. Ma's tryn'a concentrate." The workman nods and does as he is bidden, as Uncle Frank frowns. "He said," he exhales, "he was goin' t'have th' troock back by noon. Is that clock oop thar roight?" "Yeh," nods Joe, checking his watch. "Goin' awn one awready. Jeez. I gotta get Leonoreh oveh't docteh's, an'ats twenny minutes ride. C'mon, honey, getcha coat awn. Leonoreh! *Getcha coat awn.*" Hmph," hmphs Leonora, with a pointed eyeroll. "Hmmm," ponders Uncle Frank, looking up again at the clock...)

("Whassat awnya face?" snickers Alice, as Sally returns to her workbench. "T' noice says I gotta weah t'is," Sally sighs. "She says maybe I'm still contagious." "Pagin' Docteh Killpatient," laughs Alice, turning back to her work. "I din' like t'way she was lookin' at me," frowns Sally beneath the mask. "When I was inneh yestehday, she wrote down a buncha stuff an' wouln' lemme see it, an'nen t'day she done'a same t'ing. An' she had a look onneh face like she was suckin' on pickles." "Ahhh," dismisses Alice, "she awrways looks like'at." "I dunno," continues Sally, sneaking a look across the floor toward the catwalk housing the department office. "Look up t'eh," she gestures. "She jus' wen' inneh t' see t' flooeh manageh." "Maybe," shrugs Alice, "hee'za one gawt t' pickles." "Yawr no help," scowls Sally, turning back to her own work. Alice glances over, a look of concern flicking across her eyes. "'S'gonna be awright, Sal," she assures, as Sally pulls her magnfication lens into position and squints at the cathode assembly in her jig...)

(I wasn't planning to have a New Year's Feast, but if I was, I'd certainly go to the pork store to buy it.)

(Better get your seat reservation now, they're already booking up fast.)

(It's a good thing nobody bets on hockey.)

(Been around show business a while, have you?)

("Whatever. Work's work." -- every character actor, ever.)

(At least he had time to light a cigarette.)

(Those war-surplus binoculars are a real deal.)

(AMERICA'S NUMBER ONE CODEPENDENT DOG.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

Good luck, Mary. Be sure you write it all down.

Social Media, 1945.

"I am, after all, a Baron. Ah, those Hohenzollerns..."

Someone's certainly been to the pork store...

Two years in the chorus of "Oklahoma," and this is the best part he could get...

Hey, now, how'd he get a phone? Does he have -- ha ha -- connections??

Pop's tired of this storyline too.

"Oh, and if you're meeting with the strike committee today, you probably shouldn't wear the spats."

Do you get the feeling that Mr. Caniff had this story plotted out six months ago, and really didn't want to waste it?

What's a rassler need with a punching bag?

 

[Fading Fast]

Alice glances over, a look of concern flicking across her eyes. "'S'gonna be awright, Sal," she assures...

Is Alice still some sort of manager or did I forget and she lost that position to a returning soldier when the war ended? I have a vague memory of something happening like that, or at least talk of it.

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

Better get your seat reservation now, they're already booking up fast.

Being a government contractor is certainly no easier today. Some of these "review" processes can take half a decade or more.

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

Good luck, Mary. Be sure you write it all down.

If anything, she is an underrated actress (even to this day), and it seems like she was also a nice person, but my God did she make bad choices in men. And she had horrible parents, which of course, never helps.

Separately, if the nurse/fire story is true, she will have a very hard time living with what happened.

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

Social Media, 1945.

I have no opinion of the morality as I'm sure it's more complex – heck, from reading these papers throughout the war, we know it's more complex – but there is also a fallacy of logic at work in his argument. Then again, as you note, it's like social media and I've been told some of those posts aren't thoughtful either.

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

Pop's tired of this storyline too.

I am not making this up: I scan first and if the word "nylon" is in the text, I don't read it. I will return to being a regular reader of the strip as soon as the storyline changes.

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

Do you get the feeling that Mr. Caniff had this story plotted out six months ago, and really didn't want to waste it?

Indeed. It makes very little sense otherwise.

Also,

"The sentimental Yankees will not strafe us when they learn their women are here."

"They have Fob Cob and Madame Gross-Nache."
"Anyone else?"
"No sir."
"Well, war Is hell. I wish them the best. Let's get out of here."

 

[LizzieMaine]

Yep, Alice got busted back to the production line a few months ago. She was philosophical about it, but you may recall Sally went to the union to complain and was rebuffed. Which, of course, did little to enhance her view of that union as being company-dominated...

I've always enjoyed Mary Astor. She doesn't seem to let all the Page Four attention get to her, which is more than can be said of some of her colleagues.

 

[Harp]

The Charles Dugan story is heartwarming this cold December Chicago morning.
As he achieved ocean crossing and riparian landing, his refugee status has valid legal standing.
He also qualifies postwar displaced status with ostensible emancipated minority given ***ulative
history; also a Brooklyn domiciled uncle who presumably can take guardian custody of his nephew.
And, as a veteran, I believe he should qualify US Army veteran status with GI Bill entitlement. Sweet kid.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Ohhhhhhhhhhh," groans Alice, leaning over the edge of her bed. "I brung t' pail, Ma," hurries Willie. "T'as good," gulps Alice. "Run upstaiehs, tell Sal I gotta -- gphhh -- absentee..." "Pap's heat'n up s'm oatmeal'," nods Willie. "Y'wan' some..." "Neh," gasps Alice, a shudder wracking her body as her face shades to green...)

("Yeh," nods Solly. "I gawt in 'bout eleven. Wen' right home t'bed. Y' fix t' back enda t'at pile 'a junk, butcha din' do nut'n bout'em tiehs!" "Well," stumbles Uncle Frank, "Oi figyaaaared with rationin' coomin' tw'n end, we could hoold oot a few days..." "Drivin' awlaway back fr'm Joisey onna rim," hmphs Solly. "I drove a tank wit'ta betteh ride n'nat truck." "Well," shrugs Uncle Frank, "Didjee make th' deal ye..." "Neh," snaps Solly. "But I got a han'le on a betteh deal anyways. Ten crates 'a G I raincoats." "In th' mid'la wintaaaar?" gapes Uncle Frank. "It ain' gonna be winteh f'reveh," observes Solly. "Innis business ya gotta be t'inkin' ahead." "How're yee," frowns Uncle Frank, "fixed farr bathin' suits?")

("Nah," nahs Bink, "he ain' said a woid about New Yeeh's Eve." "Huh," huhs Rosa. "Real spoeht, izze? Reg'leh Good Time Chawrlie." "T'ez moeh'n one way t'have fun," sniffs Bink. Rosa considers a comment, but passes on the opportunity. "Anyways," continues Bink, "I don' caeh. He don' mean nut'n t'me. Hey, whatcha say you'n me go out 'n howl? Kin'a make t' roun's." "I ain' howled since befoeh t' wawr," demurs Rosa. "Hmph," hmphs Bink. "You jus' stay home an' knit, t'en. Yawr as bad as he is." "You wait a few mont's," glowers Rosa. "You'll wish y'had a night t' sit an' knit.")

("We can't afford both a stadium and a college. Start tearing down the college tomorrow.")

("What do you mean he won't let me in??" fumes Mr. Parrott. "Everybody at the office chipped in to buy him this fruit basket!" "One banana and half a pineapple?" eyes the nurse.
"It was," shrugs Mr. Parrott, "a long subway ride...")

(It takes quite a bold man to berate an adversary while beeping his nose.)

(Fish in a barrel.)

(Alternate universe Sally and Alice plan their next scheme.)

(You know, once in a while you can take out the pipe.)

(How The Other Half Lives.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

"Dashing Texas manners."

They don't mean "use at least half a jar of Borden's" all at once...

Didn't Annie say something once about "hope?"

Ah, the world famous "Shoddy Weave" line of clothing.

Hey, she could have sent you nylons.

Bruther came to? How disappointing.

All the dialogue in this strip was replaced. In Jon's speech in panel 3 you can even see the edges of the paper where it was pasted over. What is Gus trying to tell us that they won't let him say??

Yes, I imagine Wilmer would know all about picking a lock.

"Concentrake." Moon needs to stop hanging around with Popeye.

At least it isn't "One Meat Ball..."

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Worker...

"Oh, I don't want no more of Army life..."

 

[Fading Fast]

"Neh," gasps Alice, a shudder wracking her body as her face shades to green...

Morning sickness?

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

Considering how successful "Going My Way" and "The Bells of St. Mary's" were, it's surprising they never made a third one in the series.

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

Rosa considers a comment, but passes on the opportunity.

She's like a poor man's Alice.

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

"It was," shrugs Mr. Parrott, "a long subway ride..."

Very cute.

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

"Dashing Texas manners."

And sitting in front of his typewriter, Raymond Chandler wonders if "The Blue Dahlia" would make a good title.

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

Bruther came to? How disappointing.

Indeed, hopefully it was just one last gasp.

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

What is Gus trying to tell us that they won't let him say??

The one good thing is it explains why today's dialogue all but makes no sense. And cool catch about panel 3 and the pasting.

 

[Harp]

I'm definitely hitting The Latin Quarter New Year's Eve. Breathtakingly beautiful girls to ring in the next year.

Greer Garson, such exquisite elegance. A snide quip: She had an affair during the shooting of Mrs Miniver
with the actor who played her son, Richard Ney. Apparently, director William Wyler and her co-star Walter Pidgeon knew this. My mom adored this film, but she had passed before I learned the story within script.

Many moons ago, fifty or more years since I lectured a West Point shavetail the Army shibboleth that officers
never chased enlisted mens' wives or girls, and trespass could buy a ******. Such seemed the story with
two men-both officers-over a married woman. The transgressor, Eugene Dale had survived the Baatan Death March only to be shot inside a 5th Avenue apartment by the lady's husband, Archie Miller, who used a Luger drawn from his footlocker, so he probably served in Europe. Six 9mm slugs to the chest close range, a probable kill. However, Miller has passion for defense as both spouse and victim were present apartment, argued, and fit-of-rage slaying with a footlocker stored weapon. Definitely arguable not premeditated homicide however tragic. We're looking manslaughter, with Defense asker over-under a decade for cop plea deal.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("I dunno what else c'n happ'n," sputters Sally. "Alice is sick, Krause is sick, an'nez no heat'na buildin' again..." "Oi'll see what Oi c'n do," exhales Uncle Frank, resting his toolbox on Krause's workbench. "I dunno wheh t'ey caught it," claims Sally. "I neveh had no stomach flu, I had head flu." "Flu," pronounces Uncle Frank, dabbing at his nose with a red bandana, "is flu." He turns his attention to the boiler and squints at the pressure gagues. "He's gaaaht this blooody thing," he marvels, "soo patched t'gethaaar Oi doon't knoo how it doon't bloo th' whool place t' kingdom coom. What's aaaal these strings an' woires aaahn these damparrs? An' these valves..." "Lemme see," insists Willie. "Roon alaaaang, boy," dismisses Uncle Frank. "G'wan back an' play with ye Christmas toys, an' aaaafter Oi'm doon in here, Oi'll tell ye a staaaary..." He selects a wrench from his kit, and considers a course of action. "Not'tat one," injects Willie, as Uncle Frank applies the wrench to a valve. "T'at one 'neh." Ignoring him, Uncle Frank twists the sticky valve, and checks the gauge to no avail. "I tol' 'ya," insists Willie, indicating a valve deep within the network of pipes. "T'at one." Sally shrugs. "Y'mize well," she advises. "Children," mutters Uncle Frank, "shooold keep thaar place." But yielding to popular opinion, he applies the wrench and jerks at the valve thus suggested. There is an immediate hiss, the gague needles dance, and far up in the network of pipes a succession of clanks and clunks declare the rapid distribution of steam." "Tol' ya," grins Willie, as Uncle Frank withdraws his wrench. "Wot is it," he demands, as he puts away his tools, "with th' children in this faaaamily....?")

("I ain' seen much a' ya," greets Joe, as Solly jingles in the door and approaches the counter. "What'll ya have, t' usual?" "Nah," sighs Solly. "I ain' hungry. Jus' gimme a Coke an' a packa Camels." "Whatcha been doin' witchaself?" queries Joe as he slides the cigarettes across the counter and reaches for a glass. "Ahhh," exhales Solly, peeling open the cellophane, "nut'n much. Lotsa woik. I might hafta go out t' Chicageh again nex' week, tawk t' Lowrey 'bout openin' anot'eh stoeh. He's got t'ree of'm runnin' now." "You still gonna op'nat one out'n Lawng Islan' City?" wonders Joe, stirring the Coke. "I dunno," shrugs Solly. "Who's gonna run it? I can't toin my back on Frank f' five minutes wit'out he's got some charecteh sneakin' aroun' wit' some kin'a scheme. He haddat Quinlan guy inneh few days ago, upta sump'n." "Ahhh," dismisses Joe, "he's hawrmless. Y'might take a close look atcha five dolleh bills t'ough, jus' n case." Solly lights his cigarette and takes a contemplative puff. "You wouldn' be innehrested, wouldja?" he ventures. "Ain'nat fawr away." Joe blinks. "No," he replies. "I don' t'ink so." "Pay ya a good sal'ry," offers Solly. "Plus commissions on whatcha sell." "No," repeats Joe, fumbling in his pocket for the gnawed chunk of Tuck's Plug, "I ain' much good, y'know, um, wit -- ah -- a- Awrmy stuff..." Solly realizes his gaffe. "Sawry, Joe," he offers. "I f'got..." "Sawright," shrugs Joe, biting off a chew. "Jus' one'a t'em t'ings, y'know?" "Yeh," nods Solly, staring into the bubbles rising in his glass...)

("An' if that guy comes in again wit't'at 1924 truck, chawrg 'im double!")

("Hm," hms Ma, examining the contents of the canvas bag Bink has just delivered. "Ahhl these bets on 2-9-9!")

(HEY KIDS TRY THIS FUN TRICK ON YOUR DAD)

(Just don't be mean to the little dog, he didn't ask to be mixed up in this.)

(Remember gals, the Sullivan Law says nothing about candlesticks!)

(At least he finally put away the pipe.)

(Grand Theft Auto?? Is there no depth to which he will not sink???)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

"Et tu, Robert...?"

The Baron was one of the German industrial leaders who convened a secret meeting in February 1933 to pledge their support to the man whose name we aren't allowed to mention. Let's not forget that, hmm?

"Mmm, Spam!"

It's that kind of market.

You know, you don't even need picks to open a lock like that. A small flathead screwdriver will do just as well. What? Doesn't everybody know that?

Have you investigated the mineral rights?

Meanwhile, why is Harold dressed like he's about to stroll the boardwalk at Asbury Park?

What do you hear from Baron von Opel?

What do you suppose the Dragon Lady would do with B O Plenty?

Someday when he's a global titan of finance, K. O. Mullins will look back fondly on his childhood...

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Worker...

There's a New World Coming.

 

[Fading Fast]

"Wot is it," he demands, as he puts away his tools, "with th' children in this faaaamily....?"



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

He haddat Quinlan guy inneh few days ago, upta sump'n." "Ahhh," dismisses Joe, "he's hawrmless. Y'might take a close look atcha five dolleh bills t'ough, jus' n case."



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

"Pay ya a good sal'ry,"

Solly, if you have some money to throw around, buy a good truck.

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

"Ahhl these bets on 2-9-9!"

Would the state's total revenue number have really sparked betters' interest?

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

Jesus, that is some serious luck.

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

What do you suppose the Dragon Lady would do with B O Plenty?

Po*f. She's a busy woman with no time to suffer fools.

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

Someday when he's a global titan of finance, K. O. Mullins will look back fondly on his childhood...

This is exactly why professionally run companies have P&Ps and oversight on how bonus pools get divided.

 

[Harp]

I suspect Ms Harper's case against the Missouri Pacific Railroad for her forced remove will focus
commercial fraudulence and false imprisonment. Ridiculous.

Und Herr von Opel will receive restitution. I once went on an American GI tour of the Opel plant
outside Frankfurt and a corporate luncheon afterwards included an auto purchase contract beneath plate.
The cadre said we would meet some girls. Uh huh.

The Wallis-Clark slaying doesn't delve too deeply into the entire case but marital passion isn't as
ironclad as the felony murder doctrine that mandates murder uno for arson, ****, robbery, and assault.
And Mrs Wallis seemingly pursued her victim, which included her survivor husband. The local yokel DA
wants to invalidate her defense by sticking to deliberate intent homicide.

All of which returns to cuckold Captain Miller. He has a very solid defense, so the NYC DA begins match
play Roy Lopez open, which defense counsel will counter with the Sicilian Defense. Circumstance already places Miller defense center board; consequenting the DA to offer pretrial manslaughter.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Ahhh, I bet Sal's all woiked up," suggests Solly. "She'll be in 'eh element, huh? Hit'n'a pavemen'. hold'n'a line, givin'a cawps a face fulla t'at good ol' Irish confetti..." "Don' tawk like'at," frowns Joe. "It ain' funny." "Ah, c'mon, Joe," shrugs Solly. "Lookit'a bright side. Maybe she'll get t' raise. I mean, it ain' like t' phone comp'ny's hoit'n f'money." "Awr maybe it'll drag awn f' six mont's," sighs Joe. "An'nen when'ney set'l it, she'll get laid awff." "You was neveh," observes Solly, "such a pessimis' befoeh." "Afteh t' yeeh I been t'ru," snaps Joe, "maybe tezza good reason.." "It could be a lot woise," notes Solly. "Y'eat'n, ain'cha? Got a roof? Got a wife'na kid, n'a famly, 'n good friends. Lotta guys give t'eh right -- " "Heya flap-eehs," interrupts Bink Scanlan, clumping down the back stairs. "Hey, t'marra night. Jus'wan'ned t'tip ya awff in case y'was makin' any plans. I ain' gonna be aroun'. I got plans'a my own, see? Sorry t'leave ya hangin', but hey, maybe I c'n fitcha in nex' week sometime. Hey Joe, gimme t'bag, willya? I wanna make t' rouns oily so I c'n rest up..." Joe tosses her the collection bag, and she flounces out the door. "Whawazzat awlabout?" huffs Solly. "I ain' gawt," eyerolls Joe, "t' slightes' ideeh....")

("Lemme do it, Sal," groans Alice, shuffling into the kitchen in carpet slippers and magnificent chenille bathrobe. "Siddy's real p'ticuleh 'bout soup. It's gotta be cooked jus' so." "I'm jus' openin' a can,' eyerolls Sally, "an'nen I'm gonna put inna wawteh." "T'at's weh'r'ee's; p'ticuleh," sighs Alice, taking the can and pouring it into a dented aluminum saucepan. She steps to the sink and trickles the water into the can. "See," she explains, "Siddy don' lilke it when ya run inna wawteh fas'. He says t'at choins up t'crud inna pipes. An'nee don' like y'should use t' whole can fulla wawteh. He says haffa can a' wawteh t'wa can'na soup makes it tas'e strawngeh." "It's jus' chicken brawt'," notes Sally. "He's right," adds Alice, clanking the pan onto the stove. "y'c'n really tas'e t'diff'nce." "We'hs Willie?" queries Sally. "We sen' 'im up t'stay wit' t' Ginsboigs," sighs Alice, "till'is flu t'ing blows oveh." "You gonna be goin' t' woik t'marra?" questions Sally. "I do'wanna," shrugs Alice, stirring the pan. "But I betteh. If I ain'neh, you might say sump'n'att'l getcha in trouble." "I ain' sayin' a woid," vows Sally....)

(Almost two million people going to pro football games? Imagine what they'dve done with a team in Brooklyn!)

(Cute kid.)

(If you want someone to make a lot of noise, why didn't you invite Daffy Duck?)

(Phil looks absolutely terrified. Must be her temper.)

(How does Miss Chandler find the time?)

("There, Gould! Top THAT!" -- R. Stamm.)

(What's with all the steak breakfasts for these guys who sit at desks all day?)

(Darcy runs a Dairy? Or did the proofreader really slip up?)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

Imogene's back!

Hey Bink, need some pointers?

Did the Langford case even happen? Or did we all just have the same dream?

Jeez, Tess, I hope you had that coat cleaned.


"And just in case, be sure to bring the rug. Just in case. Ho-ho-ho!"

This couldn't possibly be who I think it might be. Does anyone smell spirit gum?

"I just forgot it was shut." Court cases have been won on an argument like that. And if you can't even make the cut at the Pink Poodle, what hope for you is there?

Well, it's a turboprop, not a true jet, but who's nitpicking?

At least Andy ditched the tuxedo.

Aim high, boys.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And today also marks a milestone, as Mayor LaGuardia takes his final Sunday afternoon bow over WNYC. Will he go quietly? Oh, come now...

https://www.wnyc.org/story/laguardia-fiorello-h-talk-to-the-people-last-broadcast/

 

[Fading Fast]

"I ain' sayin' a woid," vows Sally....

Uh-huh.

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

Almost two million people going to pro football games? Imagine what they'dve done with a team in Brooklyn!

What a poorly written headline. When I first read it, I thought they meant attendance fell as in "marks a fall."

Wonder how boxing attendance did?

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

How does Miss Chandler find the time?

Based on the pic, I think the babies just fall out of her when they are ready.

All water is rainwater.

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

What's with all the steak breakfasts for these guys who sit at desks all day?

Steak and cheesecake: he must have some off-the-charts cholesterol numbers.

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

Imogene's back!

And still guilty as all h*ll. The question is will they get her this time?

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

Did the Langford case even happen? Or did we all just have the same dream?

UFB how quickly and completely that story was tossed down the Winston Smith memory hole.

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

This couldn't possibly be who I think it might be. Does anyone smell spirit gum?

Kudos to April, though, for thinking hygiene at a time like this. She knows what can happen if all control is lost, umm, down there.

 

[Harp]

Gwendolyn Wallis will likely be tried for Murder One. The DA apparently has a strong suit deliberate
intent prosecution counter for the defense of passion, which is permeable with stalking and slaying
occurrence outside residence.

The Kovacs killing by Imogene Stevens is strictly deliberate intent homicide. Gubernatorial political gluteus maximus coverage readily attests state-level cognizance evident local yokel mistake. Extradition will be sought Mrs Stevens; whom was accused during inquest of intimacy with the deceased. A simple connect-the-dots
murder investigation that the town's jackleg dropped. Heads should roll into the sawdust over this.