The Era -- Day By Day

[Fading Fast]

I wanna big d'splay'a t'em radios

Joe should buy one or maybe two, you know, just in case.

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You've got to respect a milk company that sticks up for its drivers, especially at 5 AM.

And one that uses a solid Economics 101 lesson to dope-slap its customers.

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"And stay off my lawn!"

It takes sincere work not to become too cynical as the years add up.

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"Oh, you know, a few of the boys. Bill Slagg for example. He's great!"

The war's over, there's a new spirit in the air of forgiveness and fresh opportunity – how 'bout we bring back Nick Gatt, one of the best characters we've ever had in comicstrip land.

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Little too late for that, isn't it?

Yes, the six-week-in-advance method – which makes perfect sense – just caught up with Caniff.

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Careful now, Breathless. You didn't do so well last time.

Smart or not, one thing we've learned about Breathless, as Tom Petty would say, she's gonna go down swingin'.

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

"Will Alec Smart please report to the personnel office..."

Still no plot.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("I mean," laments Alice, exiting the 18th Avenue BMT station with a dark cloud following her onto the sidewalk. "I jus' don' GET it. I done ev'ryt'ing I was s'posta DO innat jawb. I filled in awla papehwoik, I kept allayez awn ya quotas, I woiked as hawrd as anybody COULD woik, an'ney DEMOTE me an' put me back onna bench! Sal, it jus' ain' faieh!" "No," agrees Sally, "it ain't. But it's t' lawr when a guy comes back fr'm t'soivice t'at hadda jawb befoeh t'wawr, he c'n have it back when'ee comes home. HE rates faieh but YOU don't? T'at AIN'T faieh!" "I neveh'reven KNEW t'eh even WAS a guy," declares Alice. "When I stawrted t'eh t'at Mildred Kelly had t'jawb. An'ney'd NEVEH give it back t'HEH, nawt afteh she give you t'em benzedrines. I don'even know who t'is guy IS!" "Least'ey din' can ya," sighs Sally. "T'shawp stewehd tol' me it was awrmost ten t'ousan' people got laid awff t'is week. T'at's awmos' half t' people we had woikin'neh. An' Joe says he hoid t'ey laid awff a buncha' people at Sperry's. We'eh lucky we still gawt jawbs, but t'at don' mean it's faieh. T'stewehd tol' me t'ezza lawta tawk about maybe...." "HEY!" heys Alice, as they turn onto 63rd Street. "Whassgoin' awn'neh?" She points to a roiling crowd in front of No. 1762, and Krause standing at the top of the stoop frantically waving them off. "Uh oh," Sally replies. "I bet woid gawt out 'bout Misses Nucci's apawrtmen'." "T'at ain' ready t' rent yet," insists Alice. "We ain't finished cleanin' it, an' we gotta paint..HEY!!! LEAVE HIM ALONE!" Alice breaks into a run, as the crowd surges toward the outmatched superintendant....)

("Heh," hehs Uncle Frank. "I woondar what ivvar happn'ta th' Indian chief." "Shooldn'chee be oovar next door," queries Ma. "Ye baaaass can't handle aaahl that business boi 'iself." "Ahhh, Oi'm aaahn me loonch break," grumbles Uncle Frank. "Oi get half an hoor." "A two cents plain with a Tooms in it, an' a Tootsie Roll," frowns Ma. "Soom loonch." "Oi gaaaht noo appetoite," sighs Uncle Frank. "Besoides, it ain't soo busy. We soold a fooldin' shoovel, a coopla' empty ammunition cans, an' a pair a' snooow pants." "Frooom little acaaarns," snickers Ma, "groo th' moity oaks." "Solly wants me t'roon th' whool thing next week," frowns Uncle Frank, "soo he can goo out t'Chicago t'oopen th' shop oot thar with Lowrey. Maybe he'll loike it soo mooch 'eel stay tharr. Innythin' t'get 'im aaahf me back." "Oi'll say this farrr th' boy," observes Ma, "he works haaard." "He needs a vacation," scowls Uncle Frank. "Aaaar a distraction." "BARBARA," snaps Ma, as Bink skeens thru the screen door. "Yarr spoosta be doin' ye roonds!" "I din' feel good," murmurs Bink. "I wenna docteh. He tol' me t'come home 'n lie down." Bink shuffles into the back room and closes the door behind her. "Hmmmm," hmms Uncle Frank. "Francis Xavier Leary," warns Ma, "don'chee ivven THINK of it." "No," sighs Uncle Frank. "Oi guess ivven Solly doon't d'saarve that...")

("Hey," heys Joe, taking a stool at Toomey's Diner. "What'llya have?" greets Toomey, wiping his hands on his apron. "Got any hamboigeh?" inquires Joe. "I got Spam," shrugs Toomey. "Gimme a Spamboigeh t'en," shrugs Joe. "Hol' t' onions. An'na cuppa cawfee." Toomey nods, as Joe surrepititiously produces a stopwatch from his jacket pocket. With a click he begins to time the order-filling process....)

(KIDS TODAY)

("Cascaret?" How quickly they forget.)

(You act like she never did that before.)

(Actually, he spends his entire career in precisely that position.)

(And for that matter, did anybody see the boss leave?)

(Hey, that's more than **** Tracy would do.)

(CLASSIFIED ADS GET RESULTS!)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

"We" are getting our maids back, are "we?" Whattaya think this is, the Herald-Tribune???

If it weren't for the mosquito bites, I wouldn't notice there'd been a summer at all...

Poor B. O.. Shoulda spent the extra five bucks for the second pair of pants.

Of course, it might also be that he just doesn't like you.

"Coming Events..."

This is why it's never a good idea to have a guest room.

"If I'd known about all this, I'd have become a phony count years ago!"

A good wrestler needs to keep the weight up.

Well, maybe it's a plot.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And also...

There's a new world coming.

Waiting for his train at Pennsylvania Station, Mr. Sukeforth pages thru a newspaper he found on a bench and a small smile creases his features. "Ayuh," he murmurs as the train pulls in...

 

[Fading Fast]

We'eh lucky we still gawt jawbs, but t'at don' mean it's faieh.

I'd have to sit down and slowly go through thirty-plus years of employment to count all the layoffs I've been through – some I've survived and some I didn't, but the big ones, like they just had here, almost always clear out the Sally types - fair or not - as she's usually made enough enemies or annoyed enough people that her name winds up on the list of those to go. It's how large companies, today, which hardly ever outright fire anyone (unless it's easy, caught stealing, etc.) because it's such a long process, get rid of people like her that they don't want. She's really lucky to have survived. When people like her do survive, the scuttlebutt is always, "somebody high up is 'protecting' her."

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"Oi guess ivven Solly doon't d'saarve that..."

No he doesn't. Nor why on God's green earth would he want her.

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Poor B. O.. Shoulda spent the extra five bucks for the second pair of pants.

I love when crooks themselves are sincerely offended when they get robbed.

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"Just charge and send..."

"I've had my eye on the cutest little alligator collar..."

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Well, maybe it's a plot.

You could be right. Let's see what tomorrow brings.

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Watcha doin', buddy?

"Looking for today's "Terry and the Pirates" entry."

 

[LizzieMaine]

It was all so exciting I just couldn't bear it...

More Coming Events -- the birth of skyjacking...

 

[Fading Fast]

"More Coming Events -- the birth of skyjacking..."

Thank you, Lizzie. You have to wonder if Caniff is redoing some of his already-written episodes with the war over as his stuff is so real events dependent.

 

[LizzieMaine]

I think the suddenness of the end caught all our strip authors by surprise. I bet Lichty has a whole drawer full of "Honorable Spy" gags that he'll repurpose once the Cold War gets going,,,

 

[Fading Fast]

I think the suddenness of the end caught all our strip authors by surprise. I bet Lichty has a whole drawer full of "Honorable Spy" gags that he'll repurpose once the Cold War gets going,,,

Assuming he has the foresight to save them.

If Caniff is going to redo some of his strips, we should see that soon as VJ Day was already a week ago, so he's getting to the point of having had enough time to alter his storyline. I can't see him being out of synch with the real world for five more weeks. He's too much of a professional - at least I think he is.

 

[LizzieMaine]

I think the last time this happened, which would probably be Pearl Harbor, he took about a month to wrap up that Sammy the Tapper storyline (best ending ever, as you may recall -- Big Stoop beat him up and threw him on a garbage barge) before segueing into The War. I hope it doesn't take a month this time, especially with how the present storyline has dragged. It's time to bring back Pat and figure out if Normandie is still alive.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("T'eh," sighs Alice, tacking a sign reading APARTMENT NOT FOR RENT YET sign on the front door. "T'at oughta hold'm f'ra while." "Krause OK?" questions Sally. "Yeh," nods Alice, as they head down the stoop. "He's still pretty soeh t'ough. T'ey ripped 'is favr'ite shoit right awff." "T'at'sa buncha helots," frowns Sally. T"at's what t'at is." "Leas' t'ey din' t'row bricks," shrugs Alice. "Jus' a minute," injects Sally, approaching the mailbox on the corner of 63rd and 18th. "I wanna drawp t'ese lettehs in. T'is one 'eeh is t' t' Chaiehman a' t' Boehd a' t' whole damn Bell System. T'em rats can't do what t'ey done t'you t'my bes' frien' an' get away wit'it. T'is letteh's gonna get some action." "I dunno, Sal," squirms Alice. "Maybe it's betteh t' let sleepin' dogs lay down." "T' squeaky wheel," reminds Sally, dropping the letters down the box, "gets greased." "Jus' so I don't," exhales Alice. "Um, whoza ot'eh letteh? You writin' t' Rickey again?" "Nah," dismisses Sally. "T'at ol' windbag is a lawst cause. T"at letteh is f't spoehts editeh of t' Eagle. T'ey gawt some noive spellin' Petey's name wrawng!" "Ah," nods Alice, as they head down 18th Avenue toward another day....)

(Aboard a westbound train, Solly Pincus makes his way to the club car, and flops into a chair. "Ahhhh," he exhales to nobody in particular. "I hate t'ese rattlehs." "Ayuh," chuckles a rangy man in a featureless grey suit. "You ride 'em much?" replies Solly. "Ayuh," nods the man. "Buses too. Oh, trains might make ye bones ache, but they do beat an ol' bus." "Name's Pincus,' greets Solly, extending a hand. "Solly Pincus, of Sergeant Solly's Soiplus." "Call me Sukey. Ye from Brooklyn," chuckles the gentleman. "I spent some time tharr. Reco'nize th' accent." "Hey," replies Solly. "T'at's pretty good. Wheh *you* from? Y'soun', I dunno, English a'sump'n." "Maine," corrects Sukey. "I'm a fahmah up theyah. Raise blueberries. Well, naw, that's not quite so. I don't do nuthin' but rake'm up. I guess' th' good Lodd does th' actual rasin'." "Heh," hehs Solly. "I'm head'n out t' Chi t' open a stoeh out t'eh. See, me'n'ese two ot'eh guys is gonna stawrt a whole chain'a Awrmy soiplus stoehs. It's gonna be awl oveh t'country, if I c'n keep t'ese two fatheads I'm woikin' wit' in line. I got big plans. But what's a -- what'ja say, a blueberry fawrmeh wanna do out t'eh?" "Ohhhhh," drawls Sukey, "I dunno, thought I might see some sights. Take in a ball game or two....")

("Awright," nods Joe. "Now, when I put t' Spamboigeh awna pan, you stawrt t' stawpwatch, an' don' stawp till I put t' plate in fronnaya." "Spamboigeh," frowns Leonora. "Sppppppt!" "You ain' no food critic," protests Joe. "Jus' play ya me customeh, an'nis is a lunch room. I wanna see how lawng it takes me t'soive ya." "Rat'eh," scowls Leonroa, "play Automat. T'ey gawt nickels....)

(And for Dad, don't miss the Los Alamos Uranium Prospector Kit.)

("Fued?" Maybe Sal's got a point.)

(Letttttt's get that in writing. Before you die, I mean.)

(How can you tell?)

("Dear Saps: Wish You Were Here! (turn over card to see picture of Rio.) Love, The Secretary.")

("And so are my clothes. Sigh. Back to invisibility...")

(********* DOG SAVES BOY IN TROLLEY WRECK BY ACCIDENT. ALSO CAUSES WRECK.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

And technically, the war isn't formally over till they sign the papers. Sorry, Alice...

Hey, Betty -- you didn't happen to know a Mrs. Langford...?

See, Uncle Frank -- this is how a real Outside Man works...

Work? Well, at least he's not a bum.

You get used to the sand and the worms....

A. Gump, Marriage Counselor.

A beautiful thing about Frank King's world is that there are no generic characters in it. Every one he draws, no matter how minor, looks like a unique individual with their own experiences, their own back story, and their own point of view. Oh, and Blenda really needs to see a thyroid specialist.

Poor Rita.

I do hope Caniff keeps the war going long enough for Hotshot to go Missing in Action.

All right, that's funny.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And also...

It's seldom you get to see a mid-life crisis unfold in real time in your morning paper.

"I don't know whose kid she is, Kay! She just showed up!" "Well, she can't stay here, Mae!"

 

[Fading Fast]

"Leas' t'ey din' t'row bricks," shrugs Alice.

God love her.

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

And for Dad, don't miss the Los Alamos Uranium Prospector Kit.

Lichty's caught up.

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Letttttt's get that in writing. Before you die, I mean.

At least it is a plot (yes, I'm talking to you, Carl Ed), but not a good one. Time to move on from the stupid will storyline.

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Hey, Betty -- you didn't happen to know a Mrs. Langford...?

This story didn't make complete sense to me. To wit, did Betty give Jarwood the money to set up all the nightclubs? If so, we need a pic of Jarwood, as Betty is pretty and rich , so what did he bring to the table?

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

I do hope Caniff keeps the war going long enough for Hotshot to go Missing in Action.

To be fair, though, this could be his finest moment.

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"I don't know whose kid she is, Kay! She just showed up!" "Well, she can't stay here, Mae!"

"No kidding, bring back our silhouetted hotties!" — The public

 

[LizzieMaine]

("See," explains Joe, "I gottitawl drawn out awnis diagram, see? If we put t' grill right heeh nexta t' cash registeh, it ain' so closet'a t' fountain t'at it's gonna melt t' ice a' nut'n. Butcha c'n take ordehs f' hamboigehs'nawl wit'out havin' t' toin aroun, a' nut'n. Y'jus' step oveh t'side t'eh, see? An' we gottis metal hood heeh so t' grease don' spatteh up awna coun'eh! An' cause ya nawt runnin' awlaroun', y'savin' time, see?" "I t'ink it's swell," declares Sally. "But I ain'na one y'gotta convince. Ma ain' gonna go f't'at. Wheh y'gonna put t'grill is weh she likes t' woik awneh books. She don' like no changes like t'at." "Well, she WILL like it," asserts Joe. "Soon's I show'eh how much hawnes' money she c'n make wit'out havin' t' -- um ---" "Wit'out havin' t' what?" queries Sally, her eyes narrowing. "Wit'out havin' to -- um -- " stumbles Joe. "Wit'out havin' t' go out f' lunch," completes Leonora. "Yeh, t'at's it," jitters Joe, as his daughter tips him a discreet wink...)

("Chris'mas," sighs Bink Scanlan. "T'ings is gonna be gett'n pretty compl'cated aroun'nen." "Oi been thinkin' it oovar," sighs Ma. "Here's whatchee goin' t'do. Whin people starrt nooticin', warr goin' t'ell'm yarr hoosband got kilt in th' waar, an' they'll feel saaary farr ye an' will moind tharr oon ****** business." "What was he like?" ponders Bink. "Who?" snaps Ma. "Me husban'," shrugs Bink. "Seems like Oi otta know." "Make soomthin' oop," dismisses Ma. "Maybe he's got black haieh," proposes Bink. "An' his nose is kin'a bent up like he fell awn it." "Michael," growls Ma, "is naaaht yarr hoosband." "Jimmy's too dumb," shrugs Bink. "I don' wanna pr'ten' HE's me husban', even if he ain't dead yet. An' t'same t' Danny." "Joost make oop soombody," rushes Ma. "Boot make it soombody ye woon't farrget." "What about," offers Bink, "if 'ee's gawt big eehs." "No," declares Ma. "ABSOLUTELY NAAAAHT!")

("I don' feel like cookin' t'night," sighs Alice. "C'mon, Siddy, le's go out t'eat." "Eh," shrugs Krause, shoving a pencil down his cast to try and scratch an elusive itch beneath. "We could go oveh t' Schreibstein's an' get cheese san'wiches," Alice suggests. "Meh," replies Krause. "Hey," inserts Willie. "Y'know what I hoid?" "Awr roun'a cawrneh," Alice offers. "T' Maneh Cafeterieh." "T'at place smells funny," protests Willie. "An' I got soup inneh oncet tasted like mice." "How d'you know what mice tastes like?" protests Alice. "When we had Stella t' cat down'eeh,' explains WIllie, "I smelt 'eh breat'. Hey, y'know what I hoid?" "How 'bout t'at Brooklyn Royal Chinese," suggests Alice. "Chow mein dinneh, t'oity five cents." Krause thinks it over before offering another "neh." "Y'know what I hoid?" injects Willie, bouncing up and down to claim his due attention. "What?" exhales Alice. "Whajoo heeh?" "I hoid," grins Willie. "I hoid Moskowitz got pastrami!" "Yeh!" enthuses Krause. "Yeh?" gapes Alice. "Yeh!")

("Every year is campaign year!")

(DiMaggio? Pfffft. Where's Reiser????)

("But I've got over it." OK. That's funny.)

("Oh right. Hey, hand me that golf trophy...")

(There are a whole lot of boats leaving for Rio....)

(You know, kid, given what you've just been thru...)

(The Boy From Marketing.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

In an alternate universe, Bink, Jimmy, and Danny are rich. But still not very bright.

Oh, go sit on a tack.

And this is how it started with Shaughnessy and Mavis Doyle.

War makes unlikely heroes.

Point of order: Where is Min that Trish needs to call her on the phone? Has she finally wised up and gone out and gotten a job as the high-powered executive we all know she could be?


Don't worry, kid, you'll all get laid off soon.

Mr. Clark draws posture better than anyone I can name.

Where do you even find identical-twin vaguely-Eastern chauffeurs?

The Bird Club? Sherman Billingsley's branching out!

Mamie was a pioneer in the rise of fashionable activewear.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily Worker...

Pinky was dropped a couple weeks ago in the middle of a storyline, about a month after **** Floyd (aka **** Briefer) went into the service. His replacement did not, to say the least, do well carrying forward the style.

And also...

At Comiskey Park, a rangy fellow in a featureless gray suit climbs up the ramp and gazes out onto the lush green field as the hometown Chicago American Giants prepare to host the Kansas CIty Monarchs in a ***** American League contest. Mr. Sukeforth's eyes sweep across the diamond until he spots a broad-shouldered young man with the number 5 stitched across the back of his gray-and-gold Monarchs flannels. Sukey watches the player take batting practice, and after he has taken his swings, the man from Maine watches him approaching the dugout. With a deep breath, Sukey starts down the steps toward the rail.......

 

[Fading Fast]

"Maybe he's got black haieh," proposes Bink. "An' his nose is kin'a bent up like he fell awn it." "Michael," growls Ma, "is naaaht yarr hoosband." "Jimmy's too dumb," shrugs Bink. "I don' wanna pr'ten' HE's me husban', even if he ain't dead yet. An' t'same t' Danny." "Joost make oop soombody," rushes Ma. "Boot make it soombody ye woon't farrget." "What about," offers Bink, "if 'ee's gawt big eehs." "No," declares Ma. "ABSOLUTELY NAAAAHT!"

I'd ship her out west – the dumping ground for all their problem people.

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What an absolutely awful ad – hard to believe it got approved.

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"I hoid Moskowitz got pastrami!" "Yeh!" enthuses Krause. "Yeh?" gapes Alice. "Yeh!"

Every family works in its own unique way.

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

Pinky was dropped a couple weeks ago in the middle of a storyline, about a month after **** Floyd (aka **** Briefer) went into the service. His replacement did not, to say the least, do well carrying forward the style.

Much like TV actors in the early years, it can be a long road to respect. Caniff and a few others, though, seemed to get it in real time.

 

[LizzieMaine]

Of the strips we follow, all of them use assistants to whatever extent, and sometimes this can be a path to one's own strip (and one's own assistants.) Harold Gray started out as Sid Smith's assistant on "The Gumps" before he started Annie in 1924. Russell Stamm, as we have noted, worked as an assistant for Chester Gould before going off to start "Scarlet" a few years ago. Bill Perry, who is Frank King's assistant on Gasoline Alley, and who does much of the work on the GA Sunday page, formerly filled the same role for Carl Ed on Harold Teen. When Gus Edson took over the Gumps in 1935, after Smith's death, he was assisted for a time by Smith's last assistant Stanley Link, who was a pretty good sport about it, considering he expected to inherit the strip himself.

Milton Caniff has had several assistants, including Ray Bailey, currently assisting Gus Edson on The Gumps, but his longest-term collaborator is Frank Engli, who does all the lettering. Engli joined "Terry" very early on, and he and Caniff will work together for the rest of their lives.

In the world of 1945, Caniff stands at the top of the heap in terms of personal recognition for both his strip and his skill, in general, as an artist, to the point of being featured in legitimate gallery exhibitions. Harold Gray is well-known as much for his *****ly relationship with his editors as he is for his strip. Sidney Smith was world-famous for the Gumps in the 20s and 30s, as well as for his lavish lifestyle as the first cartoonist to become, if not a millionaire than pretty close to it. But most of our cartoonists are known more for their work than as distinctive personalities in their own right, and, as Mr. Caniff will soon find out, that's exactly how the syndicates want it....

 

[LizzieMaine]

Incidentally, in looking over that Manufacturer's Trust unclaimed property ad, there's somebody on there I actually recognize. William A. Bacher is a radio writer, and that money shown is payment for a script he wrote. And knowing how radio writers live, I hope somebody gives him a call and tells him to go pick it up so he can get his typewriter out of hock.