The Era -- Day By Day

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

"Heeh y'go, Missis K," announces Sammy Schreibstein, standing in the foyer of 1762 63rd Street in the early morning light. "Not so loud," whispers Alice. "I do'want Sal t'heeh ya." "I gotcha," grins Sammy, handing over a fresh copy of the Daily News." "Yeh," nods Alice, looking nervously up the stairs. "She's gonna be down any minute," she continues. "Y'get t'ot'eh one?" "You bet," nods Sammy, reaching into his jacket to hand over a copy of the Daily Worker." "Smawrt kid," winks Alice, handing the youth a quarter. "Same time t'marra?" "Coun' awn it," nods Sammy, returning the wink as he exits. Hearing a bustle on the second floor, Alice quickly slips the News inside the Worker, and assumes a nonchalant pose, the combined tabloids held open before her, as Sally thumps down the stair. "Well now," she grins approvingly. "'Bout time ya smawrten't up." "Life ain' nut'n," grins Alice, "if ya don't loin fr'm it..."

And yes, her friends call her "Zsa Zsa."

Skeezix Wallet, back-room hustler...

It's fine to honor the memory of the late Fats Waller, but don't steal his routine.

NO SECONDS!

Tick tick tick tick tick tick tick....

"Course not, these are Pop's."

Don't press your luck, *****.

Well, if she actually had any PAYING tenants she could afford a can of Fly-Ded.

Yes, Mr. Gould, we see him. Now let's get on with it.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And also...

"Hey, we've got a Page Four too!"

 

[Fading Fast]

(DL=COLLECT = ROSCOE NY JUL 9 45 = 1146AM = F X LEARY 1749 BEDFORD AVE BKLYN NY

BLEW HEAD GASKET. WIRE THIRTY TWO DOLS FIX IMMEDIATE. NECK TOOK BUS CHICAGO. NO BINK. TELL SIDDY ALL YOUR FAULT.

A.)

Add in Alice's $32 and that's $52 "extra" in costs or about $900 today - all for absolutely nothing.

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

"An' SPECIALLY as lawng as SALLY don' find out."

Perfect.

Joe reaches into the syrup tank to extract an interloper.

Ugh.

And a note to the mother-daughter jewelry-robbery team – just another example of what a thriving profession it was back then; although, those two sound like (as Ma would say) idiot amateurs.

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

Coming events...

Probably the most interesting geo-political city in the world for the next several decades. It practically turns into a laboratory experiment in political systems.

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

Patches is a sturdy well-built fellow, isn't he? Just happened to notice that.

Oh look, you're right, there is somebody besides Ella in that panel.

Kidding aside, fingerprints don't work on a whistle the way this guy is worried about them working.

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

And yes, her friends call her "Zsa Zsa."

What a perfect Zsa Zsa Gabor origin story. Better than any story one could make up.

And Re Imogene,

Son: "But Dad... "

Dad: "Not a penny for her, not one lousy penny."

 

[LizzieMaine]

(TX402 = NL = COLLECT = WAUKEGAN ILL 834PM JUL 13 45

MRS ALICE KRAUSE = 1762 63 STREET APT 1 = BKLYN NY

JIMMY HELD VAGRANCY. WIRE ONE HUNDRED DOLS BAIL. SHAUGHNESSY OWES FIFTY. BORROW TWENTY FIVE DOYLE. TWENTY FIVE QUINLAN CHECK CLOSE. DONT TELL NORA.

FRANK)

("Well," huffs Ma, "soombody bettar foind 'arr, that's aaahl Oi can say. " "Whatta you caeh?" shrugs Sally. "Hey, t'is Coke tastes funny. When'joo wawsh out t'tank?" "It's a matter a' principle," frowns Ma. "Barbara waaarks farr me, and -- ah -- it's impaaaartant t' -- ahhh -- maintain good labaaar relations, joost loike ye aaahlways say." "Leonoreh said sump'n funny t'ot'eh night," injects Sally. "She says Bink run awff chasin' afteh Mickey. Whe'd she eveh pick up sump'n like'at?" "Oi have noo oidearr," inhales Ma. "T'ez sumpin' wrawng wit't'is Coke," insists Sally. "Anyways, I dunno what t'big deal is. She wants t'go, let 'eh go. I dunno why you keep 'eh aroun'eeh anyways." "Roonin' aroond th' ****try," sighs Ma. "In haaaaar condition." "What condition?" demands Sally, snapping to attention. "Ahhh," ahhs Ma. "She's -- ahhh -- oondarweight. An' tharr's noothn' good t'eat in thim bus stations..." "Awr you sueh," scowls Sally, eyeing her glass with distaste, "t'is is even Coke? Y'know, you c'n get in dutch f'substitutin'." "Ye doon't say," shrugs Ma...)

(Coming events...)

(I hadn't figured Lichty for a "religion is a snare and a racket" type.)

("I'm not dead, you know." -- Fitz)

(It's refreshing to see a comic strip cop who honestly couldn't care less.)

(Such is the case for many art-school grads.)

(Ah, the old masters. Rememerant, Da Vinsky, Mike Angelo...)

("I signed Shepard and I didn't get a hug." -- Clark Griffith)

(Well, OK, this is a new twist.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

OK, who had five years in the pool?

Butch can't wait to retire.

You can't tell me Wholesome Farm Gal Nina doesn't know how to sew.

Of course, the Binkses live in a big house at the top of a very steep set of steps.

"Dog tags? Oh, that's right, we lost them in a **** game with Johnny Jingo."

I bet Judge Fudge reads the Journal-American.

Damn the Larvex shortage.

Ha ha, fooled ya!

"Hmph. Monogrammed luggage is so ostentatious." -- Chief Brandon.

Today's strip brought to you by Lifebuoy.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And also...

"Hey," heys Sally. "Lemme see t'at papeh when ya done wit' it." "Um," ums Alice...

 

[Fading Fast]

450 Miles of Japan Afire in B-29 Raid.

My God, why are they not surrendering?

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

JIMMY HELD VAGRANCY. WIRE ONE HUNDRED DOLS BAIL. SHAUGHNESSY OWES FIFTY. BORROW TWENTY FIVE DOYLE. TWENTY FIVE QUINLAN CHECK CLOSE. DONT TELL NORA.

Well beyond perfect. Extra chuckles on the "check closely" and "don't tell Nora."

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

"I have trouble I cannot tell anyone."

Methinks she might not have been as faithful to her husband who is fighting in the Pacific as one might have hoped.

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

Plus the mayor emphasized that not one person in the town supported the Germany's WWII-era leaderships. "'Germany's WWII-era leaderships?' What is this term you use, 'Germany's WWII-era leaderships?'"

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

OK, who had five years in the pool?

Nobody went longer than two, so I guess that's our winner.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Heeh's ya papehs," sighs Solly Pincus, thumping two bundles of Eagles on the counter. "Jus' a minute, lemme get t'is moustache awff." Solly agonizingly peels the phony brush off his upper lip and winces as he picks off stray bits of adhesive. "Maastar oov disgoise," chuckles Ma. "Ye look loike Mistarr Stalin." "Yeah, well," sighs Solly, rubbing at the reddened skin, "I ain' takin' no chances. Sal finds out what I'm doin', ain' no tellin' what she'd do. T'ey made me toin in me helmet, an' I ain' ready t'take no brick t' t' head. "Ya aaarned ye wages farr th' day," acknowledges Ma as she snaps the wires with her little hook and drops the papers into the rack. "As soon as..." But she is interrupted by the jangling of the telephone. "Oi'll get that," she hastens, pushing past Solly as she rushes to the phone. "Lieb's," she answers. "Collect? Hoo mooch? Ahhl roit, Oi'll accept, poot'im aaahn -- Francis! Speak oop, Oi can barrrley -- well, didjee foind Barbara aaar didn'chee? Noo, Oi doon't want t'talk t'that ****** caboog, he's yarr soon, you deal with -- well now isn't THAT a foine thing. Ye praaahmised me Lowrey was goona take care oov -- well whoy in th' ****** hell would'ee goo THAR? No, doon't goo chasin' aaahl th' way acraaahs th' -- NO! Oi aaahlready woired ye th' boos fare hoom, an' Oi ain't -- well send'im parcel poost!!! -- Whaaaat? Have Inky print whaaaat? A railrood oidentification? So 'e can whaaaat? What did'jee caaaahl it? Deadheadin'?? Well, noothin' evarr bettar suited -- Hello? Hello?? Noo, Oi doon't waaant t'pay farr three maar minutes. G'bye t'ye!" With a huff of frustration, Ma slams the receiver back onto its hook, and exhales. "Solomon," she sighs to Solly, "Let me give ye two waaards oov advoice. Don't get married, and doon't get married t'wa man with two eedjit soons." "I'll try," Solly snickers, "not ta...")


("Ain't massages when'ney have some big Swede come in an' pound on ya back?" wonders Alice. "I'd kin'a like t'at, me muscles get kinda stiff. Sometimes I lay down onna floeh an' let Siddy wawk awn me back, an'nat helps, but I bet a big Swede knows moeh'ra 'bout it." "I don' t'ink it's t'em kinda massages," snickers Sally. "What ot'eh kin' izzeh?" wonders Alice. Sally shoots her a look. "Oh," nods Alice. "OHHHHHH.")

(America's Biggest Small Town takes a bow.)

(It's still a worker's market, for now...)

(You might remember Jeff Heath, a fine outfielder with the personality of a fever blister, as one of the leading figures in the "Cleveland Cry-Babies" incident of a few years back. Wouldn't he and Larry have fun!)

(We've been following Ella for a week now and still haven't seen her with her clothes on. Hope she's got sunscreen!)

(Actually, he's a performance artist.)

(Ever notice all the villians in this strip have really bad teeth?)

("Who?" -- Pete Gray.)

(Oh those pesky escaped Germany's WWII-era leadership POWs.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

Sheets and towels? And he didn't think to hide in a laundry cart?

What, he didn't read them "**** Tracy?"

Nobody likes living in a duplex.

"The stairs are this way..."

Well, at least she's got something to do...

Meanwhile, Sandy is picking up a bus ticket...

"And then he got confused and tried to bet two dollars on the fifth at Belmont!"

Don't eat any of the wedding cake, folks, it's made of wood.

Newspapers are a vital part of daily life.

This certainly seems like a clever and well-thought-out plan.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And also...

Whose move is it?

 

[Fading Fast]

"Battleships Bombard Japanese Steel Port Under Carrier Cover"

Why are they not surrendering?

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

"Ain't massages when'ney have some big Swede come in an' pound on ya back?" wonders Alice. "I'd kin'a like t'at, me muscles get kinda stiff. Sometimes I lay down onna floeh an' let Siddy wawk awn me back, an'nat helps, but I bet a big Swede knows moeh'ra 'bout it." "I don' t'ink it's t'em kinda massages," snickers Sally. "What ot'eh kin' izzeh?" wonders Alice. Sally shoots her a look. "Oh," nods Alice. "OHHHHHH."

"The Scientific Institute of Therapy"

They should arrest the men and release their names if they really want to stop this.

At least today we'd never protect a list of "high Government officials" involved in this type of behavior.

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

Sheets and towels? And he didn't think to hide in a laundry cart?

The hacksaw didn't walk in under its own power - I'd be looking for a crooked guard who, at minimum, looked the other way.

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

Well, at least she's got something to do...

She's become so not interesting. Where's Hu Shee? Burma? The DL? Oh heck, Cheery Blaze?

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

This certainly seems like a clever and well-thought-out plan.

Honestly, she's made it this far despite herself.

 

[LizzieMaine]

(It's half past two in the morning and the night is soggy and damp as Ma's eyes snap open at the sound of a thumping at the door downstairs. Squinting into the darkness, she listens again, as the thump repeats. Shaking the sleep from her head, she reaches into the nightstand and takes out her revolver. Tucking the weapon into her bathrobe pocket, she moves down the back stairs and into the store, where the thumping at the door continues. One hand on the **** of the ***, she pulls the drawn blind just aside enough to see out. With a start she jerks the door open, and a sodden, sniffling Bink Scanlan shuffles in and collapses in tears against Ma's shoulder...)

("I jus' feel like nobody tells me nut'n," sighs Sally. "Ah," ahs Dr. Levine. "And how do you know that there's something that nobody's telling you?" "Well, take t'is mawrnin'," Sally continues. "I wen' oveh t' Ma's place wit' Leonoreh, like I awrways do when I'm comin' t'see you, right? An' Ma ain'neh, an' Joe's woikin', right? An' I ask 'im 'wheh's Ma,' an'nee says 'she's out doin' sump'n.' An'nee shows me t'is note, says 'I'm out doin' sump'n.' Now what kin'a note is t'at f'somebody t'leave? Woise'n no note at awl. An'nen Uncle Frank ain' been aroun' awl week, an' I ask where is he, an' awl I get is 'he's away awn business.' He's a plumbeh! Plumbehs don' go away awn business! An'nen t'is gal woiks f'Ma, t'is Bink Scanlan, she run awff someplace, an' Leonoreh says she run awff t' be wit' Mickey, an' Mickey lef' town awl of a sudd'n an' I dunno weh HE is! Nobody eveh tells me NUT'N!" Dr. Levine absorbs all this, her pencil skimming across her notebook, and pauses to frame a question. "What do YOU," ventures the psychiatrist, "think that all this means?" Sally is silent for a long moment as she ponders. "I t'ink it means," she finally declares, "t'at NOBODY TELLS ME NUT'N!")

(Buckshot's back! And how many other seventeen year olds do you know who can bat .307 in the American Association?)

("Vesta Seller?)

(They're perfect, if you're a chorus boy in "Oklahoma!")

(You can't say Ernie doesn't like to draw.)

(I don't see how she kept it a secret with that look on her face...)

(Outgoulding Gould.)

(I'm sure that the Senator's tomatoes grow fine and tall, given all the fertilizer you find in the Senate.)

(Zing!)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

Tick tick tick tick tick tick tick....


Hmph, you won't sell any four million copies with a Page Four like this.

We don't get to see anywhere near enough of Mac, the puppy.

Like Cadmus sowing the dragon's teeth...

I'm shocked, shocked to hear of cheap opportunists in politics. Your ballots, sir. Thank you.

Tsk, kid, you could get better results just throwing a radio in the tub. And if Wickie's gonna kill somebody she ought to just get on with it.

Walt is surprisingly light on his feet.

Pop knows you don't keep your numbers banker waiting. And c'mon Helen, big smile -- you never know, you might be Miss Rheingold 1946.

"An obvious spy. Shoot him at once."

 

[LizzieMaine]

And also...

And he didn't need any help from Scarlet O'Neil.

TICK TICK TICK TICK TICK TICK TICK TICK...

 

[LizzieMaine]

And if you'd like to hear Butch try his hand at reading today's thrilling "Little Orphan Annie," you can tune in his WNYC "Talk To The People" here....

July 15, 1945 | WNYC | New York Public Radio, Podcasts, Live Streaming Radio, News

This episode is from the WNYC archives. It may contain language which is no longer politically or socially appropriate. Implications of Bastille Day; salute to France; compares New York and Paris; Potsdam Conference; political tyranny; Yugoslavia and Tito will solve Balkan situation; accepts...

www.wnyc.org

 

[Fading Fast]

"Biggest Battleships, Planes Pound Japan for 2nd Day in Vast, Unopposed Assault."

Why are they not surrendering?

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

An'nee shows me t'is note, says 'I'm out doin' sump'n.'

I grew up around people who would consider that a perfectly normal note.

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

"Vesta Seller?"

Comicstrip character names from this era are the best.

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

I don't see how she kept it a secret with that look on her face...

Plus: "Hmm, you smell like a horse and something else that I can't quite put my finger on... hey, wait a second."

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

Hmph, you won't sell any four million copies with a Page Four like this.

No kidding. Jeez, they even had a happy marriage pic, but not one divorce anywhere.

FDR's estate is worth about $36 million in today's dollars. Obviously, a huge amount of money, but much less than I would have guessed ahead of time.

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

Tsk, kid, you could get better results just throwing a radio in the tub. And if Wickie's gonna kill somebody she ought to just get on with it.

Finally, "Smilin' Jack" with some wholesome good-old-fashioned cheesecake again. The world seems a bit more normal today.

 

[LizzieMaine]

(KW093 = DL = BROOKLYN NY = 1232 PM = JUL 16 45

F X LEARY = C/O D. P. LOWREY WAREHOUSE & STORAGE CO = 911 W LAKE ST = CHICAGO ILL

BARBARA BACK. DID NOT DO WAS TO DONE. NOT FIND MICHAEL. ROOM RENTED. NOWHERE ELSE GO. PUT COT BACK ROOM. WHAT NOW?

NORA)

("Leave aaahn th' moostache," directs Ma, as Solly Pincus drops a bundle of papers on the counter. "Oi gaaht anoothar jaaahb far ye. Oi wanchee t'foind me soom spinach." "Innis town?" snorts Solly. "I look like Popeye t'you?" "It's spinach Oi waant," reiterates Ma. "It's farr -- soomone in a sarrtain condition wharr th' doctar says t'eat spinach." "I don' getcha," frowns Solly. "Nivver ye moind gettin' me," frowns Ma. "Get th' spinach." Solly shrugs, pats his false moustache back into position, and heads out the door. "S'cuse me misteh," injects Sally, nearly jostling him as she pushes in. "At'sa good," mutters Solly, obscuring his voice with a Chico Marx dialect. Sally turns to watch him disappear into Rogers Avenue. "Whoozat guy?" wonders Sally. "Vegetable salesman," sweats Ma. "You betteh not be scabbin' no vegetables," frowns Sally. She notices the bundle of papers on the counter and her frown deepens. "Fell aaahf a troock," insists Ma. "Hap'ns a lawt aroun'eeh," glowers Sally. "Pity they doon't fix thim trolley tracks," shrugs Ma....)
'

(Imagine what it must be like to live with all these strange fictional people bouncing around in your head. How bout that, Sal? "Ahhh, ya screwy.")

("In fact, we'll build them a big camp out, oh, on Long Island. My brother-in-law has a potato field...)

(Babe Herman is hitting .750 and he hasn't killed anyone yet in the outfield? Hey, does anybody know how to get in touch with Zack Wheat?)

(Here kitty kitty kitty...)

("Those eyelashes! How gauche!" -- Jane Arden.)

(Yep, he looks like a real art dealer all right.)

(Scarlet O'Neil, SPORTS AGENT!)

("These leg bones seem a little long, don't they?")

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

I have no idea what kind of a writer Armand Clair McEwen is, but he comes up with some pretty farfetched plots.

Anything you say, Mr. Siccardi, um, I'm just going to back away slowly...

Why so unenthusiastic, Skeez? Wait'll you meet kindly Dr. Von Braun.

"Restricted to quarters??" I thought Marines were supposed to be tough.

Twelve Angry Pecksniffs.

"Hmph, how long's it been since you dressed these points?"

Yeah, yeah, now finish those dishes.

You'd never know she was Beezie's mother.

Also a blackguard, a villian, and a whelp!

"Not too close, though, the wind is blowing this way."

 

[LizzieMaine]

And also...

Louis vs. Schmeling III? I'm up for that. And as a preliminary, Billy Conn vs. his father in law!

 

[Fading Fast]

"**** Fear Return of Halsey Fleet as Planes Blast Island."

Why are they not surrendering?

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

KW093 = DL = BROOKLYN NY = 1232 PM = JUL 16 45

F X LEARY = C/O D. P. LOWREY WAREHOUSE & STORAGE CO = 911 W LAKE ST = CHICAGO ILL

BARBARA BACK. DID NOT DO WAS TO DONE. NOT FIND MICHAEL. ROOM RENTED. NOWHERE ELSE GO. PUT COT BACK ROOM. WHAT NOW?

NORA

I wonder if Alice and Sidney want another kid. Just thinking. (And there's every possibility it would truly be Willie's half sibling.)

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

I have no idea what kind of a writer Armand Clair McEwen is, but he comes up with some pretty farfetched plots.

Unrelated to Armand's writing talents, the Page 4 editor needed to rein in the writer on this story as he/she was so busy being cute, the reader had to work overtime to keep the participants and plot straight.

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

Anything you say, Mr. Siccardi, um, I'm just going to back away slowly...

Is a "counter manager" what it sounds like: a person who manages the counter in a diner or a place like that?

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

You'd never know she was Beezie's mother.

"You can have the piano on one condition..." Nothing is ever truly free.

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

"Not that I'm shedding a tear for Larry MacPhail to the Yankee Management."

We all have an ideological lens through which we see and virtue signal everything. I do; this guy does.