The Era -- Day By Day

[LizzieMaine]

("So," sos Uncle Frank. "Oi'm hearrin' a laaaaaht aboot meat lately." "Ahhh," ahhs Shaughnessy the butcher. "Ye hearrr a laaaahtta things in this toon." "Oi'm hearrrrin'," frowns Uncle Frank. "Boot Oi ain't seein'. Nora tells me they gaaat meat in at Boohack's. Now, that chaaaaain-staaaar meat moit be aaahl roit f'soom, but Oi'm a man b'lieves in stickin' boy me friends. Aaaaahl thim yaaaars'a Proohibition, whooo was it stoock boy ye?" "Stook me is roit," smirks Shaughnessy. "Ooooh," ventures Uncle Frank, "Oi think waaaar evin aaahn that scooor, aaaftarr ahhll that meat ye soold me that -- smelled a' the paddock, if ye get me. Boot this isn't aboot me. Tharr's a big thing coomin' oop ye'll be hearin' aboot soon enoof, a very big thing indeed, and it's gooin' t'need a whoolsale meat supplier Oi c'n troost." "Ye have," nods Shaughnessy, "me attention." "And lissen here, ye gamboon," continues Uncle Frank, "th' meat is gaaat t'be legitimate." "Oi doon't meddle," snickers Shaughnessy, "in th' proivate affairs a' th' cattle." "Ye knoo what Oi mean," scowls Uncle Frank. "Oi want GOOD meat. Noo sawdoost groond int'wit, noona that, whatchacaaaahl, soy poodar, arr bread croombs aaar noona that. Oi oonly waant meat ye'd eat yeself." "Well," shrugs Shaughnessy, "thin ye'd hafta goo t'Boohacks...")

("It ain' bad, I guess," shrugs Solly Pincus. "I dunno what I'd do witawliss space. T'at table's nice, I guess, an'nem chaiehs. No bed?" "Neh," replies Krause, his face a mask. "T'oity bucks a mont', huh?" "Yeh," nods Krause, tossing the keys from hand to hand. Solly glances at Willlie, who cranes his neck as if he's searching for something. "Cute kid," chuckles Solly. He flicks a glance at Willie, and then at Krause. "Guess you musta had black haieh, huh?" "Yeh," flinches Krause. "Well," Solly decides, "I guess y'gawt a new tenant. OK t'move right in? I ain' gawt much stuff. Be swell livin' inna same buildin' as Joe 'n Sal." "Yeh," agrees Krause, pulling a lease out of his overall pocket. "Yeh," nods Solly. "Lemme put me John Henry on'eeeh --- t'eh. I t'ink I gawt t'oity bucks in'eeh..." He digs into his pocket, extracts a roll, and peels off three tens. "Y'know," he grins, "I t'ink t'is is gonna be OK. Fois' t'ing is I'm gonna op'n'at windeh -- you musta done some kin'a cleanin' in'eeh, huh? Smells like Lysol." "Yeh." exhales Krause...)

("I loint a lawtta good woids fr'm Misteh Ginsboig," nods Alice. "T'oteh night he was tawkin' 'bout somebody bein' a 'ganef.' Y'know what t'at is? T'at's a guy goes aroun' gett'n mixed up in awl kin'sa crooked deals, y'know?" "Misteh Ginsboig's t'mos' hawnes' guy I know," marvels Sally. "Who's'ee know t'at's a 'ganef?'" "Um..." ums Alice. "Nobody -- uh -- you'd know....")

(I didn't wake up today thinking I was going to see beefcake pictures of Augie Galan and Dixie Walker, which just goes to show you that life is just full of surprises.)

("I never met this man in my life." -- Ignatius J. Quinlan.)


("Just go to bed and let me read my volleyball magazines.")

("It's easy if you know how!" -- The Sec.)

("At least that's what my press agent told me!")

(I say we let the animals stay upstairs, and make Worst Dad Ever sleep in the cellar.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

"Oh, but when Randolph Scott came over...."

Definitive Postwar Innovation #1: The Waiting List.

"Gee, 'Daddy,' you ought to listen to Fulton Lewis, Jr.!"

"Hey, long as you're up, wanna shoot some ****s?"

"A newspaper! I ain't read such a thing since they cancelled Dan Dunn!"

"Friendship! Friendship! Just a perfect blend-ship..."

"Oh well, back to eating..."

"Let's you and her fight."

 

[LizzieMaine]

And also...

Out at the University of Michigan School of Public Health, CCNY graduate Dr. Jonas Salk is busy in his lab...

 

[Fading Fast]

"thin ye'd hafta goo t'Boohacks..."

A brief flash of honesty.

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If only they had used 69, which from all I've ever read was not well known back then.

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I could see Maureen O'Sullivan playing Jane.

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"Oh, but when Randolph Scott came over...."

Cute, but my first thought was money, or influence, or both was at work as the average Joe and Jane aren't getting a divorce that easily in 1945. They aren't even in Reno.

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

Definitive Postwar Innovation #1: The Waiting List.

Joe: "Maybe the console one; she'd never be able to heave that whole thing out the window."
Leonora: "You sure about that, Dad?"

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

"Friendship! Friendship! Just a perfect blend-ship..."

We all know a few Brownies and they are very good at finding these types of comparisons – and of knowing (or exaggerating) the obscure rules – all in service to some little cheat they are working. They are little people who are absolutely exhausting to be around.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Six yeehs t't' day," sighs Sally, sweltering in a faded seersucker housedress on the front stoop. "R'membeh weh we was?" "Right heeh," shrugs Joe, whose sweat would be staining his undershirt, were he wearing one. "Seems like a million yeehs ago." "We was gonna go t't' Woil's Faieh t'at night afteh woik," continues Sally. "Seeit awl lit up." "T' Woil' 'a T'marra," exhales Joe. "T'at din' quite woik out." "Seems funny," reflects Sally, "nawtta be woikin 'a plant on Satehdays. I dunno what t'do wit' myself." "Weh's Leonoreh?" wonders Joe. "Oveh t' Schreibstein's," replies Sally. "Wit' Lottie." "I t'ought'ey hated each ot'eh," chuckles Joe. "T'ey will," eyerolls Sally, "b'foeh t'day's oveh." "She's one t'ing'at's diff'ent," observes Sally. "Six yeehs ago, r'membeh? Said we wasn' gonna have no kids t'ill t'ings goawt betteh." "Maybe by t'time she's a grown-up lady sitt'n on'eh own stoop," sighs Joe, "t'ings will be. Up t'w us, I guess." "Like I been sayin'," nods Sally, "all alawng....")

("Wot's this paamphlet?" queries Uncle Frank. "Ooh, joost soom nonsense Sally left," mutters Ma. "Maaar'a that A-L-P stoof she's aaahlways handin' oot." "O'Dwoyarr," chuckles Uncle Frank. "Nivvar thaaat Oi'd see Sally oot stoompin' farr a Tammany man." "Doon't keep changin' th' soobject, Francis Leary," snaps Ma. "Ye tell yaaar friend Shaughnessy Joseph doon't need noona his raaahten haaarsemeat." "An' Oi keep tellin' ye, Nora," argues Uncle Frank, "that ain't th' plan." "It ain't NOO plan'na yaaars," retorts Ma. "Ye keep ya big snoot oot'v it! It's Joseph's oidearr, an' in case ye ain't looked at th' deed lately, it's MY OON STOOR, an' Oi'll thank ye t'remimbarr that! You gotchee sarploos, an' ye dress shaaap, an' maybe ye might send ye boys ovarr t'look at me baaaarler befarr th' wintarr sets in, that is if yaaaa'r still in th' ploombin' an' heatin' business! T'say noothin'a whativvar else ye gaaaht aaahn th' foire." "Oi'm joost troyin'," mutters Uncle Frank, "t' help th' boy th' bist way Oi know hoo." Ma regards her husband with a penetrating gaze. "Oi suppoose," she sighs, "ye aaare. Boot it's Joseph's oidear, an' in case ye ain't nooticed, it's th' faaarst thing he's got int'rested in since'ee coom home fr'm th' Army. Best help ye can give 'im is t'naaaaaht help 'im." Uncle Frank heaves a deep sigh and thoughtfully unwraps a Tootsie Roll, jamming it into the corner of his mout as Ma exhales a sigh of her own...)

("See here noo, Mavis!" wheedles Shaughnessy the Butcher. "Whoo was it gatchee that paaaht roost last week?" "What have y'done for me," frowns Mrs. Doyle, pulling up the shoulder of her dress, "lately???")

("It wasn't like this at all." -- T/5 Jos. Petrauskas.)

(Ford Frick, Man of Vision.)

(I hear Barbara Hutton's looking.)

(I dunno what to tell ya, kid, except you're going to ruin your back sitting like that.)

("Got a warrant, honey?")

(Hmph. ACTORS.)

(Most Frustrated Mother Ever finally takes command!)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And the Daily News, I regret to inform, is missing the first three days of September. The file copies from which ours are taken are bound three days to a volume, so someone pinched this particular book from the News library before it was microfilmed. It is not one of the volumes under my bed, I checked....

In any event, a trip to the Out Of Town Newsstand brings us, at least, most of the comics...

PGC? Welcome back, Col. Philip G. "Flip" Corkin! Hey, what do you hear from Dude Hennick?

Well, it better not be too long, she's running out of animals.

"Fine! I'll tell Sabu to bring the yacht around."

Awwwww.

No jury would convict.


Well, all except those calluses where you hold your ice cream spoon...

"And wait'll you meet Mama DeStross!"

"So far this postwar world isn't at all what I thought it would be!"

 

[LizzieMaine]

And since we don't have Page Four from the News for a few days, here's Page Four from the Worker...

But what about Barbara Hutton??

Never mind Louis-Conn II, I want to see Conn-Father In Law II.

 

[Fading Fast]

Manager: "I don't care what you wear at home, they won't let you in the ring here unless you put on your trunks."

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

I dunno what to tell ya, kid, except you're going to ruin your back sitting like that.

What the heck happened from panel three to four: who comes home very late at night, strips down to her bra and *******, and then sits like that by an open window? (They don't live in Valley Stream, do they?)

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Hmph. ACTORS.

Hmph. FAMILY.

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

And the Daily News, I regret to inform, is missing the first three days of September. The file copies from which ours are taken are bound three days to a volume, so someone pinched this particular book from the News library before it was microfilmed. It is not one of the volumes under my bed, I checked....

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

Well, all except those calluses where you hold your ice cream spoon...

"Ice cream spoon," never heard it called that before.

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

But what about Barbara Hutton??

Even better, if the Daily Worker really wants to put itself on the map, it should break the Langford case.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("I wondeh what'ee t'inks about awrtichokes," snickers Sally, looking up from the newspaper in time to see Leonora scaling her flattened tin can across the potsy grid. "DON' PUT SO MUCH ENGLISH AWN IT," she shouts to her daugher." "No faieh lissenin' t'ya Ma!" yelps Lottie Schreibstein, as Leonora returns a murderous glare and hops across the squares. "I kin'a agree wit'im," shrugs Alice, wriggling to scratch her back against the rough stone of the stoop. "I mean, jeez, t'is town is fulla crooks'n bums, ain'nit? What kin'a place izzat t'raise a kid?" "Betteh'r'n Brownsville," hmphs Sally. "Ev'ryweh ya go," sighs Alice, "t'ez somebody out t' cheat ya, somebody pullin' a racket, gett'n ya in trouble. Awla time. Y'get tieh'd of it. Leas' LaGwardieh tried t'do sump'n." "Twelve yeehs 'eez been tryin'," exhales Sally. "An'nez still crooks'n bums. Whatcha need is somebody like Cacchione inneh, but he's too smawrt t'run." "I do'want Willie should grow up t'be a crook an' a bum like..." declares Alice. "Like who?" queries Sally. "Ahh, neveh min'," dismisses Alice. "DON' JUMP SO HAWRD," yells Sally. "AN' LAN' AWNA BAWL'A YA FOOT, HELPS YA PIVOT!" "NO FAAAAAAAIEH!" bellows Lottie. "SPPPPPRT!" replies Leonora, as the morning drifts on toward afternoon...)

("I din' wanna lissen t'none'v'it," confesses Joe. "I set t'eh downa t' Ginsboigs' place wit' awl'v'm, an' we hadda radio awn, an' I jus' din' wanna be t'eh. An'nen t'day, ev'rybody's tawkin'bout it. 'Ain'it swell it's fin'lly oveh? How 'bout'at MacAwrt'eh.' 'An'nen Sal goin' awn about MacAwrt'eh was a rat in 1932, an'nee's prob'ly still a rat t'day, an' -- well, I neveh done no sleepin' las' night, sat out awna fieh 'scape 'tilla sun come up..." "What do you think about?" inquires Dr. Levine. "What do you think about, out there by yourself?" Joe hesitates and exhales. "Nut'n," he murmurs. "Nut'n, I guess. Y'know how when ya tunin'a radio, in b'tween'a stations t'ez jus' noise? T'at's kin'a what it is, I guess. I do'wanna t'ink about t''t'ings I'm t'inkin'a bout. Solly -- t'at's me pal, y'know, Solly Pincus, he tol' me he hazzis dooeh in'is head, an' when'ee t'inks too much 'bout t't'ings he seen, t'ings he done oveh t'eh, he jus' shuts'at dooeh an' locks it. Me, I can't do t'at. I tried, 'n I can't. So I jus' try t', y'know, drown it out wit' noise." "What did Sally say?" inquires Dr. Levine. "This last time, I mean." "She slep' t'ru it," shrugs Joe. "Leas' I t'ink she did. I gawt back inteh bed 'bout six, she din' wake up. Din' say nut'n'is mawrnin'. "Tell me, Joe," continues the doctor. "Do you ever drink?" "Nah," nahs Joe. "Maybe a beeh once'n'a while. But t'at ot'eh stuff, well, y'know, Uncle Frank's a bootleggeh -- leas' 'e was -- an' 'e gimme a bot'l f'ra wedd'n presn't when me'n Sal gawt married. I took a sip'v it, tasted like sump'n ya put on a soeh back. None f'me, t'anks." "Ah," ahs the doctor. "Um, you ain't gonna write t'at down 'bout Uncle Frank, awrya?" jitters Joe. "He's a funny ol' guy, but I don' wawn'im t'get in no trouble." "I have," chuckles the Doctor, "sampled his product myself, some years ago. If he hasn't gotten in trouble yet, I don't expect he ever will....")

("Clyde Kluttz." That poor man.)

(Oh, Red, you're such an optimist.)

(Hey rabbit, how about a 150,000-seat domed stadium in Flushing?)

(Ernie just wanted an excuse to draw roller coasters today.)

(Yes, but what she really wants to do is direct.)

(At least when this happened to Harold Teen, he had the excuse of being a rattle-brained hepcat.)

(1000 words a day? Piker.)

(I'm sure you'll be very happy together.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And from the Out of Town Newsstand, the Chicago Tribune carries our Daily News comics and more...

I hadn't figured B. O. for a killer, and I hadn't figured Sgt. Pitt for Downwind Jaxon's cousin.

"You dumb ****!" Shadow is of course using popular 1940s slang for a detective, right Shadow? That's what you're saying, right?

Meanwhile, since the Tribune is a broadsheet instead of a tabloid like the News, we have room for quite a few additional strips, and if they look familiar there's a reason. Ferd Johnson is Frank Willard's assistant on Moon Mullins, and Stanley Link assisted both Sidney Smith and Gus Edson on The Gumps

When last we saw Cindy, she was working as a war correspondent. I think she could use a bit of career counseling. And I'm about to eat a bowl of Cheerios myself, and I really hadn't thought of them as "tiny doughnuts." Does that mean I should pour coffee in the bowl instead of milk?

I could swear I remember Judy having this same tussle with her conscience a few years ago. Life is a perpetual struggle.

Meanwhile, I think you can guess whose assisstant Bob Leffingwell is. And he's also his cousin.

At those rates, you'd think the boat would come with a plug for the drain hole. And just how big a house do the Gumps have??

"Brenda Starr" is nothing like Jane Arden. And Pesky is nothing like Tubby.

"Your money or your life!" "I'm thinking it over!"

 

[LizzieMaine]

And also...

That's all, folks.

 

[Fading Fast]

"I have," chuckles the Doctor, "sampled his product myself, some years ago. If he hasn't gotten in trouble yet, I don't expect he ever will...."

Ha!

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

1000 words a day? Piker.

And it takes him 3 hours? Is he chiseling them out on a stone tablet?

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

I hadn't figured B. O. for a killer...

I agree. This scene,

is quite jarring. There's also the little problem of the body as the bank clerk will have to go back into the vault to put the box away with B. O. And if he just runs out, they'll still check the vault and call the police.

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

"Your money or your life!" "I'm thinking it over!"

You will hear a version of Daddy and the mugger's argument about, effectively, taxing the rich more, in politics today and not even worded that differently. It comes up quite often.

 

[LizzieMaine]

The Eagle doesn't publish today due to Labor Day -- but the Worker does...

"A marvelous game," nods Mr. Ginsburg, lining up the pieces on the parlor table. "A game when as a child you loin, all your life still you loin." "Whassa hawrse do?" wonders Willie. "It's a knight," corrects Leonora. "Naaaah, ain'niet'eh," scoffs Willie. "A knight rides awn a hawrse, but t'hawrse is justa hawrse. Ain' I right, Misteh G?" "A sense, maybe," chuckles Mr. Ginsburg. "But tell me then, mit out the horse, where is the knight? Hmm? On the ground like a big tin ken he sits." "Whassat one?" injects Leonora. "That, mine lemeleh" declares Mr. GInsburg, "is the qveen. On the board, she is the strongest piece." "Yeh," nods Leonora, with a grin. "C'n I be t'at one?" "One day," nods Mr. Ginsburg, "you will...."

"Couese," fumes Sally, "y'know t'REAL Labeh Day is May fois'. Awloveh t'woil. 'Cept 'eeh." "I t'ought May fois'," ponders Alice, "was, you know, May Day. When I was wit' t' sistehs, we'd have flowehs n'awlat. I din' have much fun 'neh, but t'at was fun." "Dinchoo eveh go t'no May Day p'rade?" frowns Sally. "You, wit'a union cawrd in ya pawcket, y'neveh been t'no May Day p'rade?" "I could neveh," sighs Alice, "get t' day awff..."

60,000 fans in the Polo Grounds (capacity 55,000), and at least half of them were there to see the Dodgers.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And from the Out of Town Newsstand...

This is a Page Four? "World's Greatest Newspaper" my eye.

Well now, look who's been on a diet!

Hey Corkin, how's Taffy Tucker? Still stringing her along?

I wonder if there are any submarines in this lake?

Every day, the ritual humiliation of Shadow Smart.

I don't imagine the springs are going to hold up either.

"That's MY line!" -- Geo. ****le.

You poor, trusting soul.

"And no neckerchiefs, either!"

 

[Fading Fast]

"I could neveh," sighs Alice, "get t' day awff..."



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

This is a Page Four? "World's Greatest Newspaper" my eye.

I take it, that is its tagline?

From Stalin's speech: one, that headline didn't age well and, of what is printed, several of Stalin's comments are chilling, especially if you're Japan.

The ads on this page are, how shall we say this, for a more affluent clientele than we are used to in the Eagle or Daily News.

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

Every day, the ritual humiliation of Shadow Smart.

He gets called so many derisive things, I forget sometimes that he has a real name. That said, did his parents really name him "Shadow?"

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

I don't imagine the springs are going to hold up either.

Other than Min, these people deserve each other. And heck, Min made her bed a long time ago.

 

[LizzieMaine]

Shad's real name is Alexander -- Alec for short. "Alec Smart," no less.

The poor kid never had a chance.

 

[Farace]

I’ve been watching with interest as characters pop up in **** Tracy that I remember seeing in the strip as a kid in the late ‘60s/early ‘70s. Gravel Gertie and BO Plenty are two of them, but I don’t remember BO being a criminal character, so I’m waiting to see if he redeems himself in some way.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Yeh," nods Solly Pincus, "it's a decent apawrt'mn' f' t'oity bucks a mont'. T'at Krause does nice woik. I ain' seen a cockroach since I been inna jernt." "Ehhh," ehhs Joe. "T'ey ain' back fr'm vacation. You'll see a few. Y'otta get a cat. T'ey show up, Stella runs'm awff." "So what'sa stawry wit' t'is Krause guy?" wonders Solly. "Don'ee eveh say nut'n but 'yeh' an' 'neh?" "Ehh," shrugs Joe. "I hope it ain' catchin'," snickers Solly. "An' it's a real kick he married Alice Dooley, huh? Hey, r'membeh when she was runnin' aroun' wit' Mickey? Jeez, y'know, t'at kid t'ey gawt down'eh's gonna be a dead ringeh f'..." "Ix-nay," snaps Joe. "Ahhhh," nods Solly as comprehension dawns. "Yeh," confirms Joe...)

("Well noo," approves Uncle Frank, as he takes in the full spectacle of Mozelewski's of Brooklyn. "Ye doon a moity foine jaaab soo farr. Hoo's business." "Doin' awright," declares Mozelewski, natty in a carefully-self-tailored suit. "T'at cawp's wife come in," injects Miss Kaplan from behind the service counter. "Bought a whole mess'a stuff, an' put it awna cuff. Izzat faieh? A cawp's wife ain' gonna stiff us, huh? She ain't?" "Mrs. Doyle," exhales Uncle Frank, "is an -- ahhhh -- influential wooman 'roon'd th' neighbarhood. When she is seen aboot toon in a Moozelewski aaaariginal, ye'll have ahhl th' business ye c'n handle. "Sueh," nods Miss Kaplan, her eyes narrowing. "But when's she gonna PAY?" "Leave that," sighs Uncle Frank, "to me...")

("I dunno," shrugs Sally. "Joe says 'e needs socks. Awlem ones 'ee had b'foeh t'wawr is wawrn out, an'ee t'rew out t'em brown socks 'e had from t' Awrmy. Awl 'cept t'at paieh I knitted 'im f' Chris'mas, r'membeh t'em?" "I guess t'ey was too big," snickers Alice. "No," denies Sally. "He wawshed'm. Annow t'eh too smawll. But I see t'ese sawks innat windeh t'eh, y'know, t'at men's shawp on 18t' Aveneh, an' I t'ink, I oughta get'tem f' Joe. But I ain' neveh seen Joe weah nut'n but white sawcks, gray sawcks, brown sawcks awr black sawcks longs' I know'ed 'im. Y't'ink 'eeh weah loud sawcks?" "Siddy would," shrugs Alice. "Y'know t'at Woil's Faieh tie 'e's gawt? It come wit' sawcks t'match. Gotcha trylon an' perispheeh right awna ankles." "Joe'd neveh weah sawcks like t'at," sighs Sally. "It takes," grins Alice, "a soiten kind'a man...")

(Meanwhile, how's the deGermany's WWII-era leadershipfication doing in Germany?)

(Eddie Stanky likes nothing better than shoving the ball down a baserunner's throat. Leo finds this one of his more endearing qualities.)

(Monty Woolley throws himself into every part he plays.)

(Kick him now, save trouble later.)

(Wearing a bare-midriff dress to an arraignment? Is that even done?)

("Oh boy! I finally get a storyline!")

(Then you shoulda named him "Spike.")

 

[LizzieMaine]

And the Daily News will be back tomorrow, so one more trip to the Out of Town newsstand...

THe World's Greatest Picture Newspaper?

At the kitchen table, in a neat but laborious hand, Joe fills in his application fto resume New Utrecht High School night classes,...

Remember that **** Tracy storyline about the dwarf gangster and his giant wife?This is that, except the husband doesn't ride around on a St. Bernard.

Awwwww.

That poor deluded fool.

Why don't you both go sleep in the alley and let the cat have the bed?

That must be a very roomy shirt.

Progress in any hierarchy is accomplished thru a thorough understanding of when to kiss up.

"We didn't?"

 

[LizzieMaine]

And also...

A day just rife with Coming Events Casting Their Shadows Before...