The Era -- Day By Day

[2 Days Dubai]

I've been having a lot of glitches lately myself, so that's something. I spend a lot of time trying to keep ads from showing up in the middle of my posts.

OK, thanks. Appreciate the tech feedback. Just signing in and pulling up threads is Sisyphean.

 

[2 Days Dubai]

A murder without a mysterious woman after all really isn't Manhattan front page motion pix caliber murder. Think Ava Gardner. Better yet, Ann Savage.
And the gumshoe press loading the story up with ''torpedoes'' doesn't add much to the mix aside lexicon slang. The DA office cannot build a case without mens rea criminal deliberate attempt. And some depraved heart indifference wouldn't hurt. I personally think that gal aboard the elevator was the Dragon Lady, but she's also aboard a Chinese skiff off the island, so there's Burma to consider.

 

[Fading Fast]

OK, thanks. Appreciate the tech feedback. Just signing in and pulling up threads is Sisyphean.

If it helps to know, like for you and Lizzie, over the past few days, I've experienced a mark slowdown in loading of threads and pictures at Fedora. And it's only on this site as, otherwise, my internet has been working fine.

 

[2 Days Dubai]

Thanks for the head's up.

Imagine Ann Savage as Burma.
Or, perhaps replace Margaret Hamilton with Ms Savage as the Wicked Witch in OZ.
Kinda like the double dog dare without the dog dare preliminary courtesy.
OZ becomes the classic chicken claws little league sand lot bat choke signature film.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("I wanna c'mout too!" yells Leonora. "You stay inneh," yells back Sally thru the open window, as she and Joe sit on the fire escape, their dinner plates on their laps, in a desperate attempt to escape the heat of a Brooklyn summer evening. "Chip awff a chunka ice an' sit on it if ya too hot. I dowancha fawlin' off!" "C'n I go downstaeihs," counters Leonora, "an' sit onna stoop wit' Misteh Ginsboig?" "Lawngs'ee's witcha," yells back Sally. "Close'a dooeh onna way out!" "Don'CHOO fawl awff!' snickers back Leonora as she heads for the door. "T'at's one mout'y kid we gawt," sighs Joe. "She wasn' like'at when I lef'." "Yeh, she was," contends Sally, poking at her plate of beans. "She jus' wasn' like t'at wit'choo." "She was askin' me t'is mawrnin, afteh you went'a woik," continues Joe, "'bout t'wawr. 'What's it like?' she says." "Whadjoo say?" replies Sally. "I says 'nut'n'ta like about it," answers Joe. "What'm I gonna tell 'eh?" "She ast' me sump'na ot'eh day," sighs Sally. "She says 'Pa don' laugh like 'e useta." "Nutn' t'laugh at," shrugs Joe. "She says," continues Sally, "I awta tickle ya, make ya laugh." Joe ***** an eyebrow. "Nawt onna fieh'rascape," he warns. "I might fawl awff. "Looks like it might rain," notes Sally. "Maybe we awta go inside...")

("Ye know, boy," sighs Uncle Frank, "yaaar moothar'n Oi knoo ye doon't wannar goo ahhn too laaang livin' 'ere with oos. Yoong fallar loike you, livin' with a coopla ool foolks loike oos. It's boond ta -- hoo d'ye say it -- cramp ye stoyle." "Eh," ehs Mickey, dabbing at his still-sore jaw with a chip of ice wrapped in a washcloth. "It's betteh'r'nat camp I was in." "Ah," ahs Uncle Frank, feeling a twinge of guilt before brushing it away and pushing on with the business at hand. "That is t'say, me an' yarr moothar taalked it oovar, an' we, well, that is t'say Oi've foond ye a bettar place t'live, a room ye can have t'ya'self, imagine that. It's noot too farr froom here, oop ahhn Kingston Avenarr." "T' hawrt'a Pigtown," frowns Mickey. "I remembeh livin'eh when I was a little kid. Goats runnin'aroun' awloveht'place. Pigs. I r'membeh t'at one guy, McDoughal, had'dem chickens. Good eat'n if you could hit one wit'a rock." "Well, it ain't noothin' loike that now," promises Uncle Frank. "Aaahl built oop now, all thim shanties gaaahn, laatsa noice hooses. In fact, this one in p'ticular..." "Wait a minute," gapes Mickey. "You ain't tawkin' bout Blanche Dineen's place awr ya." "You -- ah -- knoo it do ye??" queries Uncle Frank. "C'maaaaaan," chuckles Mickey. "Well, this ain't gaaht noothin t'do with that," jitters Uncle Frank,"an' it's ooonly farr th' sharrt term, till ye getchar self situated with a jaaab and ahhl. An' Oi moit have soomthin' cookin' aaahn that froont." "I ain't mixin' no egg creams," warns Mickey. "Noo," nods Uncle Frank, "Oi think Oi c'n say farr saaaartain ye woon't be doin' that...")

("You tell'm, kid!" -- Sally.)

(That's a bit gruesome, even for Lichty.)

(Stanley "Frenchy" Bordagaray, and a long time it took to get there. And -- what? FIRST PLACE? For the first time, I think, since the Collapse of '42? Ferocious gentlemen indeed!)

(Somehow I figured they'd be more colorful. Must skip a generation.)

(Look, just get on with your life. Hey, Mary's single, and you're no Bill Biff..)

(A CROOKED CABBIE? Leonard Weinberg will have your neck!)

(Well aren't we the well oiled detective machine. Aren't you gonna give the secretary something fun to do?)

("You know, I own this circus, and I've been looking for a bright young fellow to unload it --that is, to teach the business...")

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

"Aubrey J. Jarboe?" "Impersonating a naval officer?" There comes a point where you just have to marvel at the consistency of it all.

I remember the first time I saw "Footlight Parade," the sight of Jimmy Cagney dancing in a sailor suit triggered an unforgettable frisson...

Maybe you've forgotten you met him before. After all, you did meet so many people who were trying to kill you...

Tracy's primary detective skill is his matchless ability to jump to lucky conclusions.

What is that, a DAR hat? If it isn't, it certainly should be.

There are times when you just gotta ad-lib...

Really? 1570 47th Street is a cute little Victorian house in Park Slope, and it's nowhere near a railroad. You sure you're not lost?

These Coca-Cola Fountain Security agents are getting younger all the time.

Skimp? You mean Squire Skimp, from "Lum and Abner?" You're a long way from Pine Ridge, bub.

"No, Mamie, save it for the act. They'll love you at St. Nicholas Arena!"

 

[LizzieMaine]

And also...

Maybe they'd play better if they didn't have to wear secondhand satin uniforms during a heat wave....

 

[Fading Fast]

Look, just get on with your life. Hey, Mary's single, and you're no Bill Biff..

I forget, why is Mary even here? Isn't it a bit creepy that she's in their house? "Hey, does anyone else notice this old lady is always about?"

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

Well aren't we the well oiled detective machine. Aren't you gonna give the secretary something fun to do?

She's got the sassy secretary repartee down; he needs to up his game.

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

"Aubrey J. Jarboe?" "Impersonating a naval officer?" There comes a point where you just have to marvel at the consistency of it all.

- It's so good that he's a new character. You could not script this any better. If Page 4 could tie this into Madeline Webb and a plump blonde bank robber in NJ, it would achieve some sort of Page 4 singularity.

- Can't we stop calling Langford a textile executive and start calling him what he is, a high-end gigolo and low-end grifter.

- The News is loving – absolutely loving – the all but outright feud between the cops and the DA's office.

- We got a shot in the ceiling and one in Langford, what happened to the unspent shell?

- It took them fourteen days (!) to finally dust for fingerprints.

 

[LizzieMaine]

Hey Mary, don't you have a grandson back home? "Oh well, he's thirteen, he can fend for himself."

I don't remember the News being quite so snappy when Dewey was DA. But then, I guess Hogan's no Dewey.

 

[2 Days Dubai]

A presumably .38 caliber round finished Langford; although his wife claims not to have heard ***fire.
Loose ammo left locus was .38 caliber. Amateurish, though twin hitters both supposedly fired; one missed victim with round found lodged ceiling. None of this scenario really falls in line with strictly pro work.
Then again, the NYPD keystone koppers act like fools. ''Sponsored'' by Mrs L is a catchy phrase.

At last some estate work.... Gossler left a neatly tied bundle, evidently blue chip brown shoe law firm.
Philip really screwed his *** silly it seems. A prodigal black sheep led to slaughter. ******* rich boy born with a silver spoon in hand but now shoved up his *** at the executor reading. And alimony for his well provided Ex.
The old man should have acted earlier in res Philip. Res ipsa loquitur.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Ye sure ye doon't wanna take th' day off," offers Ma, "an' goo see Oisenhooer?" "Ehhhh," ehhs Joe. "A gen'rl's a gen'rl. An' I ain't neveh gonna salute nobody else nevehr'again lawng's I live. You go if ya wanna, you'n Uncle Frank." "Oi ahhsked Mistar Faaarst Papaaars Citizen if'ee wanned t'goo, boot he says he's too busy helpin' Michael move t'wis new place." "Oh yeh," nods Joe. "I hoid about'tat. Kingston Aveneh, huh?" "Oi had aaahla Kingston Avenoo Oi ever need," frowns Ma, "whin Oi was livin' tharr. Go t'waaash ye dishes an' ye gaaht McCullough's goat stickin' his noos in th' windarr." "Fr'm what I heeh," shrugs Joe, "it ain't goats ya gotta worry 'bout now." "Oh?" queries Ma, her eyes narrowing. "I ain't sayin' nut'n," Joe continues, "but I hope Mickey paid attention'ta t'em pitchehs t'ey showed in trainin' camp." "Ohhhhh?" repeats Ma. "But," reaffirms Joe, "I ain' sayin' nut'n....")

(At LaGuardia Field, Willie jumps up on his toes trying to catch a glimpse of the airplane as it taxis toward the terminal. "I can't see nut'n, Pap," he protests. "Gimme a boost?" "Yeh," nods Krause, grasping the boy and, with a grunt, hoisting him to arm's length. "I C'N SEE 'IM!" Willie shouts, as the General emerges from the plane and is engulfed in a wave of cheers. "HEY!" yells Willie. "MA'S RIGHT! HE LOOKS JUS" LIKE YOU!" "Yeh," chuckles Krause, as his back begins to spasm...)

(Next year, at Ebbets Field...)

(Sorry, there's no turning back.)

(This might be the cleverest one yet. This is Sammy Vick, who is the man Babe Ruth replaced in right field when he joined the Yankees in 1920. Mr. Vick was such a fabled eater that for years, overindulging at the table meant "pulling a Sammy Vick." And the best clue of all? Well, what do you rub on your chest when you get a cold? Vick's Vapo-Rub. So there.)

(Murderistic? Hey, Wilbur, you ever been to the Hotel Marguery?)

(Tony nothing, he's J. Hartford Oakdale!)

(Janie lettered in track at Barnard College.)

(The St. Louis Sox? Well, the Browns were once the Brown Stockings, so I guess anything's possible...)

(It's a well-known fact that kidnappers hang around circuses with cute puppies. Just sayin'.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

I hear there's going to be a big postwar market for invasion barges. Maybe you should talk to Uncle Frank.

Moses stood atop the mountain, and gazed into the promised land...

Jeeves? Does Bertie know you're moonlighting?

"If anyone wants me, I'll be staying at the Marguery."

The faith of innocents.

Fix your hat first.

This is entrapment! Get a lawyer, Pop!

Well, somebody's got to enforce chastity.

War is Heck.

Slats = Teeth.

 

[Fading Fast]

...I hope Mickey paid attention'ta t'em pitchehs t'ey showed in trainin' camp." "Ohhhhh?" repeats Ma. "But," reaffirms Joe, "I ain' sayin' nut'n...."

If this is going where I think it might be going, Michael could be in a job that in the 1970s, in NYC, he'd need a tricked-out Caddy and a decorative walking stick as part of his work clothes. Honestly, he'd probably make a pretty good one: he's got the right skill set for the job. He's tough, immoral, and likes other people to do the work for him – which is the definition of this job.

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

(This might be the cleverest one yet. This is Sammy Vick, who is the man Babe Ruth replaced in right field when he joined the Yankees in 1920. Mr. Vick was such a fabled eater that for years, overindulging at the table meant "pulling a Sammy Vick." And the best clue of all? Well, what do you rub on your chest when you get a cold? Vick's Vapo-Rub. So there.)

God bless you, Lizzie. You got a lot of information tucked upstairs.

The cameramen earned their pay again today — outstanding action pictures.

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

Moses stood atop the mountain, and gazed into the promised land...

In fairness to these guys, the next fifty years were good ones for America.

 

[2 Days Dubai]

Reed Lawton, baritone files a slander suit against Mrs L, who should listen to her lawyer and be taciturn.
Her gigilo past now pursues her.
Mr Jarboe could find his dropped arrest file reopened while the war still chugs towards close.

That boy who fell off a rowboat in Long Island Sound with half his torso gone was attacked by a shark.

Luciel Richards should file for divorce and sue spousal estate with alimony petition claim far away the $300 monthly pittance request. And take that communist to the cleaners.

The Second World War points discharge system wasn't perfect. But were I stuck stateside as an instructor throughout with red meat, hard liquor, and soft women all around, I wouldn't complain about a slow chow line.

 

[Fading Fast]

...And take that communist to the cleaners.

 

[LizzieMaine]

If the ads in the Daily Worker are any indication, he IS the cleaner.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Sawry I didn' get oveh'reeh oilieh," sighs Alice. "Sal was goin' awn an' awn 'bout t'is new committee a' Congress a' sump'n, an' we missed t' train home. Hadda wait f't'nex' one, whatta mess.' "Woon thing ye c'n d'pend awn," agrees Uncle Frank, sniffing the box of fresh cigars just presented him for services rendered, "is they'll nivvar ration trooble. Oi gaaht me oon grief. Nora foond oot exac'ly wharr Oi moved Mickey to, an' she raised th' roof. Ye remembaar th'ooothar day whin you was in'eer? Well, you was roit aboot th' parfume, Oi had Blanche Dineen in 'eer." "WAAAT?" gapes Alice. "I hope t'ol' lady broke a vase oveh ya head, if she had a vase! I KNEW t'eh was sump'n goin' awn in'eeh! Y'awrteh be aSHAMED a'yaself!" "It was nooothin' arr th' koind," retorts Uncle Frank. "Oi was makin' 'rangments f'r Mickey t'rent a room in'arr basement." "T'at's like rent'n a room t'wa rat," snorts Alice, "inna cheese fact'ry. He's ev'n woise'n Koiby Higbe, an'nat's sayin' sump'n." "Th' ballplayarrr?" puzzles Uncle Frank. "Don' ask," scowls Alice. "But Mickey was ev'n woise." "Be thaaat as it may,' explains Uncle Frank, "Blanche is goona laaahck th' basement door, soo 'ee can't get oopstairs. An' it's oonly farr a little whoile, till Oi can -- poot a plan Oi have intaar mootion." "Well," frowns Alice, "ya betteh do sump'n quick. Reason I come oveh'eeh is we got a letteh fr'm Magistrate Solomon. He wawnts t'meet wit' us again nex' week. He was askin' questions las' time about me -- reckehd, y'know? 'Bout me goint'a jail. An' you know's well as I do what really happnt'at night. I took t'at rap f' Mickey an' you promised t'take caehr'v me f'doin' it. Well, I'm callin'at note due, Frank. I wan'choo t'get Mickey t'come clean." "You -- want -- me..." stammers Uncle Frank. "Yeh," nods Alice, her face grim. "Don' look at me like t'at, it happn't seven yeehs ago. T'at's past'a statue a' limitations, ain' it? An' even if it ain't, you t'ink O'Dwyeh's gonna prosecute some guy jus' got out've a P-O-W camp? When'eez runnin' f' mayeh? Fat chance. An' But I figyeh if Solomon knows t'whole stawry..." "Ye doon't knoo what'chee askin', Alice," murmurs Uncle Frank. "Nora will hit th' roof." "It'sa right t'ing t'do, Frank," insists Alice. "You know it is." "Hm," hms Uncle Frank. "Hmm....")

(In a commandeered schoolhouse outside Munich, a colonel looks up from the papers on his desk. "Sergeant Solomon Pincus repawrt''n as awrdehed," announces the soldier saluting before him. "At ease, sergeant," replies the Colonel, returning the salute. "I am aware," he continues, "that you have sufficient points for discharge, but as you know, the movement of men depends on the military needs of the Army." "Yesseh," nods Solly. The colonel selects a sheaf of documents from the pile before him, and hands it across the desk. "Your orders, Sergeant," he explains. Solly shows no emotion as he scans the first page. "Yesseh," he nods. "That's all, Sergeant," acknowledges the colonel. "Dismissed." Solly salutes, slips the documents into his jacket pocket, takes a deep breath, and heads for the door...)

("Within the bounds of good taste, YA BUM YA!")

("Ew!" -- Miss Kaplan.)

(That'll be Kid Elberfeld, a combative infielder for the pre-Yankee New York Highlanders, who had a particular antipathy for Silk O'Loughlin, an umpire best described as the George Magerkurth of the deadball era. But the Kid needed no Frankie Germano to come out of the stands to fight his battles, he once jumped O'Loughlin during a game and beat him to the ground before park police could pull him off. He also broke Ty Cobb of the habit of sliding headfirst by jumping on his neck and grinding his face into the dirt. He wound up his playing career with the Dodgers because of course he did...)

(Sometimes a solid steel shaft is just a solid steel shaft.)

("A tire??? How much do they want for it????)

(And take that salami off your head, it's starting to smell.)

(All seafood restaurants? Even the ones that serve that awful boiled haddock?)

("And also the Brooklyn Bridge. I got them in a package deal!")

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

I wonder what she thinks Yonkers smells like?

They beat him with blackjacks? Has anybody questioned Durocher?

Trimming a willow's like getting a bad haircut. It looks awful for a while but it'll grow back.

Too bad she hates soldiers. And she really hates sergeants.

That's coming out of your security deposit.

"I have tee time at 4:30!"

"Oh, stop complaining, Pop. I'm making good money at the shipyard!"

Meanwhile, Mama, you should get your thyroid checked.

"Hey, that's MY racket!"

"You blackguard!" Also coward, bully, cad and thief!

 

[LizzieMaine]

And also...

And be sure to try new Kirkman's Flea Soap!


EVERYBODY likes Ike!!

 

[Fading Fast]

"T'at's like rent'n a room t'wa rat," snorts Alice, "inna cheese fact'ry.

Nice.

If I was Alice, I'd want to hear Frank's plan before having him push to have Mickey come clean because that will also force the fact that he's Willie's father out into the open and who knows how that dust eventually settles.

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

"Within the bounds of good taste, YA BUM YA!"

It's the appreciationography "I know it when I see it" useless standard applied to baseball fans.

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

I wonder what she thinks Yonkers smells like?

I doubt she would have dated Joe or Solly when the worked in the pickle factory.

In today's terms, his estate is worth about $1,500,000 - no small amount of money, but much less than I expected.

Stripped to its core, their "marriage" was just a very expensive visit to the *****house. It's not perfectly clear in the article, but he paid her, in 1945 terms, about $50,000 ($900k today) to sleep with her for about six weeks. It's also not clear if it was for six week plus a month or when that one-month shot clock started. Regardless, I hope it was worth it.

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

They beat him with blackjacks? Has anybody questioned Durocher?

Now, Lizzie, careful or you'll have a liability suit on your hands from Leo the Lip.

Blackjacks were more common in 1945 than today, but still, it's an odd thing for, especially, a wealthy woman to make up because she was nervous. What if she hired the hitmen as she was tired of supporting her husband and didn't want to have to pay him in a divorce?

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

That's coming out of your security deposit.

I'm surprised Caniff missed this opportunity to give us a little April cheesecake.