The Era -- Day By Day

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...


The Frankie of Tomorrow, Today.

Elizabeth Hawes would agree with you, sir.

Yes, by all means. Go see "Mildred Pierce." Willie and Krause loved it.

Very good, Mrs. -- um -- Eyes.

Moon, as a man of rigid personal morality, has no use for philanderers.

Well, at least they didn't edit anything, and it kinda makes sense in a "let's just get it over with" kindof way...

Josie has no truck with strict gender roles. And Jack clearly never heard of fallout.

Sandy has been rehearsing with his personal trainer for weeks for this. And poor Terry only had Army down to win by twenty.

The Army certainly helped Skeez fill out.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Worker...

It takes years of practice with letter openers to learn to throw a dagger like that.

 

[Fading Fast]

"Awright," nods Morrie

Perfect Dad moment.

That is a fun and much deserved victory party. I'm glad they are keeping their lawyer on the case as Flannery will fight to get reinstated as guys like him are very good at fighting for themselves so somebody needs to be on the other side.

Separately, the beer flowing in the street has to be killing Frank. There's no angle there, but I'd bet his mind can't help searching for one.

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

How can you have a "relic of frontier days" when it IS "frontier days???"

I stopped reading this one years ago, but I always look at the illustrations because I think they are very well done - in particular, he captures something revealing in the faces.

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

Well, at least they didn't edit anything, and it kinda makes sense in a "let's just get it over with" kindof way...

Sure, meh.

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

Sandy has been rehearsing with his personal trainer for weeks for this.

"Can't we just use a stunt dog?"
"It needs to be convincing - you're the pivotal part of the scene."
"Sigh, well, if I must."

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

Jesus.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Yeh," nods Sally, "I was tawkin' t' Hoishkewitz t' lawyeh afteh t' pawrty, an'ee was tellin' me he's gonna go in t'day an' file a motion a' dismissal. He's gawt t'at ot'eh reckid we made, jus' in case t'at Inspecteh tries any funny stuff. T'em cawps look out f'r'each ot'eh, y'know. An' Solly's still lookin' f't'at guy t'at actuallly grabbed my poice." "He oughta be," chuckles Alice, "one'a t'em private eyes. Like Scawrlet O'Harreh." "He c'n have it," exhales Sally. "Less dealins I have wit' cawps t'betteh. I eveh tell ya what happn'ta Patty Garibaldi?" "Who?" queries Alice. "Useta woik wit' me at Woolwoit's," relates Sally. "When we haddat sit-down strike in t'oity-seven, y'know, I was at dry goods an' she was in notions. Sweaht'gawd, t'at woman neveh stopped tawkin'. We cawlt'eh 'Chatty Patty.'" "I hate it when somebody neveh stawps tawkin'," nods Alice. "Yeh," agrees Sally. "Well, anyways, we'eh campin' out inna stoeh t'eh. y'know, a reg'elh sit down, an'ney cawla cawps t'clean us out, an', y'know, we fought back. Well, Patty's tellin'is big fat bum of a cawp what she t'inks of 'is face, an'ee cracks 'eh one right acrosta head wit' 'is night stick, an' 'ee hits 'eh so hawrd 'eh uppeh plate flies right out'v'eh mout' an' lan's onna flooeh, an' y'know what 'e does? He stomps on it wi't 'is shoe!" "Jeez," exhales Alice. "At's awrfl." They ride on in silence for an interval. "Hey Sal," resumes Alice. "If we go awn strike out t' plant, y't'ink t'ey'll set t' cawps awn us?" "Nahhhh," scoffs Sally. "It's all phony, cawps won' do nut'n but stan' aroun'." "I hope ya right," sighs Alice. "I still got six payments lef' t' make on me bridgewoik....")

("S'lissen, Frank," begins Solly Pincus. "I wanna ask ya sump'n. T'is guy t'at was woikin' wit' Flannehry. Great big guy, built like Pug Mandehs..." "Who?" frowns Uncle Frank. "Football playeh," dismisses Solly. "Hmph," hmphs Uncle Frank. "Football's goona be th' death a' Nora, all these eejits bett'n aaahn Army." "Neveh min'at," injects Solly. "T'is big guy, like I was tellin' ya, heeza one robbed Sal. An' we still gotta get 'im t' close t'book awn Flannehry an' get Sammy awff t'hook f'good. He hangs 'roun'is jernt called t' Ol' Reliable Tave'n, an' I ast aroun'eh. Name's T'ud Wilentz." "Thood?" snickers Uncle Frank. "Yeh," nods Solly. "An' since t'heat come down awn Flannehry, he's took a powdeh. An' we gotta find 'im." "We?" queries Uncle Frank. "Don' gimme t'at, Frank," scowls Solly. "You know ya way aroun' soiten places an' soiten people. An' even if you don' know t'is guy WIlentz, I'm willin' t'bet y'know somebody t'at does." "Ah," exhales Uncle Frank. "I can -- ah -- ask soom questions oov saaartain people. But thin what?" "We'eh gonna find 'im," declares Solly, "an' we'eh gonna bring 'im in. He heehs t'ez any cawps tailin' 'im 'e'll be so gawn we'll neveh get'im. But if somebody wit' -- soiten experience -- is lookin' f'rim, f'ra jawb maybe, t'en..." "Ye waaant me," glares Uncle Frank, "t'be ye bait." "Well," demurs Solly, "maybe t'ez anot'eh way t'say it....but who caehs. Yeh, t'at's t'ideeh." Uncle Frank considers the proposition as Solly gives him an unblinking stare. "Oi'll tell th' boys," he sighs, "t' clean oop th' troock...")

("I dunno," chuckles Joe. "It really does look like ya ma." "Ma puts 'eh haieh up'na rag when she's woikin'," argues Leonora. "So she do'n set it awn fieh. She tol' me so. An' b'sides she makes tubes, not t'at t'ing." "Iiiiit could still be ya ma," challenges Joe. "No it COULN'T," insists Leonora. "She wouln' do no avvetisin' f't'em bums. Not 'less t'ey come acrawst witta t'oity cent raise." "T'oity P'cent raise," corrects Joe. "I was," scowls Leonora, "mis'formed." Joe blinks at this. "I'm gonna have a tawk," he sighs, "wit' Docteh Minkoff about you." "We ain' speakin'," growls Leonora....)

(Nobody likes an expansion franchise.)

(And you can buy sneakers just like theirs at Davega!)

("Now we'll never get back our deposit!")

("I wonder if you can help me with this 'complete the limerick' contest...")

(Scarlet is nothing if not transparent...)

(I love pit bulls, but they're the dumbest dogs in the world -- I mean, he doesn't even realize he could jump right out that window...)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

"Husband swap?" Coming events...

See, there's perfectly legitimate reasons to carry bricks.

I seem to remember B-B Eyes had Tracy and Patton encased in paraffin wax and abandoned in a room with an overheated furnace. I mean, you gotta love the guy.


A "neutral" nation.

I suppose it would be rude to ask if you searched the boat before casting off...


Haven't had many dealings with lawyers, have you kid?

Who let Adolphe Menjou in here?

A tray full of cream puffs?

"That's all right, I think Pop got some new shirts that'll about fit."

You can only get away with old jokes if you really sell them.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Worker....

Danny Kaye? Did you and Leo break up your act?

 

[Fading Fast]

"It's all phony, cawps won' do nut'n but stan' aroun'." "I hope ya right," sighs Alice. "I still got six payments lef' t' make on me bridgewoik...."

You just have to love her.

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

"Iiiiit could still be ya ma," challenges Joe.

It does indeed based on whom Sally is modeled on. How funny is that?

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

"I wonder if you can help me with this 'complete the limerick' contest..."

Why the recap? Do you think they got enough mail saying "What's going on here" or "Who is this woman?" that they did today's strip?

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

"Husband swap?" Coming events...

Our boy Tommy is back for bride #8!

And Melba Lee is quite the looker.

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

See, there's perfectly legitimate reasons to carry bricks.

It's not the weapon; it's who uses it, and how.

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

I suppose it would be rude to ask if you searched the boat before casting off...

I'd want to be on land and reporting this to the police before I'd do any celebrating.

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

Haven't had many dealings with lawyers, have you kid?

Four to five draft pages and several tense meeting later, the partnership dissolves before it ever really started. Now they can argue about who pays the lawyer unless he/she smartly got a retainer.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("I hope when'nis is oveh wit', " sighs Sammy Schreibstein, "I neveh hafta see a couehtroom again." "Ah," nods Mr. Ginsburg. "The chalk, please -- mark there. Noo, a courtroom, it is not a a place to enjoy. Now, the pins, folding over and -- that's right, the pins in there. A dart you make. It is giving shape the coat. Now, my boy Milton, he is a lawyer, but in the office and the library he is at home, not maybe the courtroom." "He's oveh'rin Goimany, ain'ee?" queries Sammy. "Woikin' awn'em wawr crime trials." "A part in it he has," nods Mr. Ginsburg. "Not so deep to make the fold there. The chalk marks, remember, to follow. He is preparing briefs, reviewing files, and with the papers he is busy." "Still," sighs Sammy. "T'at mus' be sump'nt' see. I guessya gotta study pretty hawrd t'be a lawyeh like t'at." "Many years schooling it takes," nods Mr. Ginsburg. "As with any profession. In the old country when I loin to be a tailor, I am younger than you are now. An apprentice for years I was." "I kin'a like doin'nis," grins Sammy. "It's relaxin'." "Relaxing, maybe sometimes," nods Mr. Ginsburg. "Until the man calls and says 'where is mine coat??" "Y't'ink,' queries Sammy, "y'might need a -- whatchacawl - apprentice - afteh'r awlis is oveh wit'?" "One more pin, there," directs Mr. GInsburg. "My boy Milton, a very smart boy he was. But never could he make a dart like this one you are making.....")

("So t' judge is gonna consideh t' motion?" frowns Alice. "What's t'c'nsideh? T'at Flannehry is guilt as doit. Let t'kid go, awready." "I c'n see," sighs Sally, "you ain' had many dealin's wit' t'lawr." "Ummm," ums Alice. "T'ey string ev'ryt'ing out," continues Sally, "keep y'wait'n, roon ya noives. You got lucky when ya slugged t'at gal inta Roulston's. I still can't b'live t'judge swallehed t'at stawry y'give 'im 'bout slippin'." "T'at's awrful lookin' haieh onnis gal," interrupts Alice. "Lookit'at mawp onneh." "Heh," hehs Sally. "T'ez one poisson inna woil' y'don' tawk backta -- an'nat'sa one doin' ya haieh. I go t' Harriet down'eeh awn 18t' Aveneh, an' I don' say a woid." "Really?" marvels Alice. "I'd like t'see t'at." "See what?" "Nut'n....")

(Um -- isn't there supposed to be a joke here?)

("I don' know nut'n 'bout toys f'ra kid," sighs Bink Scanlan. "I'm glad I ain' gotta buy none t'is Chris'mas. Maybe you c'n help me nex' yeeh -- what kin'a toys did yawr kids like?" "Michael was aaaahlways faaaahnda games," recalls Ma. "He played a lot oov dominoes..." "Gallopin' dominoes," snorts Bink. "Sally," sighs Ma, "well, she was a different case. I gave her a doll, an' she'd aaaargue with it. Great haaaaallerin' arguments." "Did she win?" gapes Bink. "Oi nevarr knew," shrugs Ma. "It was aaaahl Oi could do t'break it ooop....")

(Hmph, who needs Kurowski when COOOOKIE's coming home!)

("Plus she stiffed me on the fare! How's a guy s'posta make a living?")

("I mean, my right name is Winstonowicz...")

(Don't any nice people go to night clubs?)


(Mischa Auer, doing comics now? Sic transit gloria mundi.)

(AMERICA'S NUMBER ONE HERO DOG knows a good upholstery shop...)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

"The fate of the accordion player was not disclosed."

No, that's Staten Island.

Billable Minutes.

It's not him, it's that awful cologne.

C'mon, you've done this before.

"Wait, which side is port again?"

YEAH KNOBHEAD THAT'S WHAT YOU THINK

Coming Events...

"Don't you know who I am?"

That feeling of energy you get after you've been sick for a while is really exhilirating.

 

[Fading Fast]

In the old country when I loin to be a tailor, I am younger than you are now. An apprentice for years I was." "I kin'a like doin'nis," grins Sammy.

With the massive shift to casual attire, the skill of truly tailoring a suit is disappearing. The number of tailor shops in NYC that have closed just since Covid is stunning. There are two people left who can truly tailor a suit: the old guys who haven't closed up or passed away and the very few young guys who are very into it.

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

"Oi nevarr knew," shrugs Ma. "It was aaaahl Oi could do t'break it ooop...."

You could easily understand her not writing paeans to motherhood.

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

Billable Minutes.

There are no good answers. If the business fails early, this is just more wasted money. If it's successful and they both act of good will, they might never refer to it, but if it is successful and they start fighting, this document will help referee the separation - but then they'll find ten things that should have been in it that aren't. There is no winning here.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("I hoid'about'at lit'l gag ya pul't in Bensonhoist," chuckles Sergeant Doyle, flicking the excess coffee off his Toomey's donut onto Uncle Frank's sleeve. "Pretty shawrp." "It was Sally an' Solly Pincus coom oop with moost'v'it," shrugs Uncle Frank. "Oi joost held tharr coots." "Ahhhh, don' gimme t'at," snorts Doyle. "I heeh t'eh gonna t'row t'book at t'at dope Flannehry. I neveh met 'im, but I know 'is kind. See, t' way t' keep ya head up is t'nawt get grabby. Ya take ya cuts an' ya satisfied wit'it. Y'don' go upsett'na whatchacawl e-qui-librium." "An' ya leave kids oot'v'it," frowns Uncle Frank. "Yeh," nods Doyle. "It'sa good t'ing f'him t'eh gonna kick'im awff t'fawrce. Lotta t'boys was sayin' sump'n might happn' t'wa man like t'at." "Lissen, Tommy," injects Uncle Frank. "Have ye ivvar haaaard'oova man name a' Thood Wilentz?" "T'ud?" snickers Doyle. "T-H-U-D, Thood," acknowledges Uncle Frank. "I'd r'membeh'ra monickeh like'at," laughs Doyle, dunking in Uncle Frank's cup. "Oi'd loike t'foind this man," Uncle Frank continues. "Faaarr -- lit's say, soomthin' Oi'm waaarkin' aaahn. Do me a favarr, wouldjee -- poot it aaahn th' woire, soo t'speak. Poot oot the waard Frank Leary would loike t'meet this Thood Wilentz an' talk soom business..." "Sueh," chuckles Doyle. "T'ud WIlentz. T' t'ings you come up wit'." "Yeh," exhales Uncle Frank, gazing into his empty cup...)

("Cashmeeh," notes Sally. "Who?" queries Alice. "Casmir? I useta know a guy name'a Casmir. Polish guy, useta woik at'tis -- um -- place I uset'a woik at, lawng time ago." "Cash-meeeh," repeats Sally. "It's a kin'a wool, f'makin' sweatehs 'n stuff. T'ey get it awffa goats." "G'waaaaaaaan," scoffs Alice. "Sweahtagawd," insists Sally. "Well," shrugs Alice, "you'd know 'bout goats. Din'choo say when you was lit'l Pigtown was fulla goats?" "Neveh min'at," dismisses Sally. "I wouldn' min' havin'a cashmeeh sweateh. I mean, sometimes y'wanna get outta t'ese grubby ovehrawls an' get inta sump'n nice. But jeez, awrmos' six bucks f'ra sweateh..." "Chris'mas is comin'," notes Alice. "Ask San'ny Claus." "I dunno," sighs Sally. "Y'know, Joe still ain' makin' much money wit' t' san'wiches afteh payin' 'spenses, an' who knows what's gonna hap'n wit't'is strike." "I t'ought you said t'at strike was t' bunk," points out Alice. "Yeh," sighs Sally. "It'd be nice to get a t'oity p'cent raise, but t'at ain' gonna hap'n wit'tis bunch'a pikehs. So I ain' spendin' no money I can't spaeh." "Gonna be t'at kin'a Chris'mas," exhales Alice. "Ho ho ho," slumps Sally. They ride on contemplative silence for a time. "Hey Sal," resumes Alice. "Lemme ask ya." "Yeh?" replies Sally. "Howcum," wonders Alice, "t'ey din' cawl it 'Goattown?")

(When Lichty catches onto the bobby-sox trend, you know it's got to be over soon...)

(DON'T! TRADE! OLMO! And who knew Parrott could play the guitar?)

("I hope t'gawd my kid ain' gonna be like'at," frowns Bink, as she and Solly exit the Patio. "Nah," nahs Solly. "T'at kid was sperlt rotten. Her ma give'eh evry't'ing she wawned." "I liked 't ma," argues Bink. "Raisin' a kid by yaself, t'at ain' easy." "No," agrees Solly, "prawbly ain'." "I'll be good at it," declares Bink. "I know my way aroun'." "Yeh," nods Solly, lighting a Camel as they pass the Dragon's Den. "Ya probl'y do....")

(Don't worry, she's a champion swimmer.)

(The PTA won't stand for this.)

(Boy, Allen Jenkins can show up anywhere.)

(Oh, we imagine it.)

(Leviticus 16:10.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

"Hmph," hmphs Leonora. "Dumb kid."

Giant fan.

"Well, he wanted to use BOTH chairs, but I put my foot down!"

"Where IS that dog anyway?"

Pretty unorthodox tieup job, but let's see where it goes..

Tomorrow: welcome special guest Red Ryder!

"That'll be four hundred dollars."

"Et tu, Mortimer?"

You've got to admire Mr. Williard for the panache with which he hauls out these old gags.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Worker...

Coming events...

 

[Fading Fast]

"It's a kin'a wool, f'makin' sweatehs 'n stuff. T'ey get it awffa goats."

"25% pure cashmere"

Something seems off about that wording. Are they saying that the 25% of the sweater that is cashmere is not a blend also? I think the boys in marketing just wanted to get the word "pure" in there somehow, so they did.

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

When Lichty catches onto the bobby-sox trend, you know it's got to be over soon...

Yes, usually, but didn't bobby-sox remain popular well into the 1950s?

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

Boy, Allen Jenkins can show up anywhere.

I think he leans more Edward Brophy.

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

"Where IS that dog anyway?"

"Not funny."

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

No "Terry and the Pirates" today?

 

[LizzieMaine]

Oop, I'm so used to Moon Mullins being the last strip in the paper that I completely missed Terry.

The News isn't too happy with Mr. Caniff these days. First they make him share a page in the Sunday paper, and now they've stuck him in the very back of the daily, with the race results and the tire ads. Better up your game, Milt.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("He WHAT?" yelps Sally. "He confessed," repeats Lil Schreibstein, her face flushed with excitement. "Flannehry confess'ta whole t'ing. Misteh Hoishkewitz jus' cawlt oveh't stoeh t'tell us t' chawrges is awl been dismissed, an' Sammy's inna cleeh." "Jus' a minute," grins Joe. "Lemme cawl Solly!" He dashed to the dumbwaiter and slides up the door. "HEY! SOLLY!" he bellows up the shaft. "GIDDOWNEEEH!" He ***** his ear for a response, shrugs, and pulls down the door. "He ain' home," he declares. "Mus' be woikin'. But jeez, Lil, t'is is t'riffic. Does Sammy know yet?" "He's still downa Misteh Ginsboig's shop," notes Lil. "I'm goin' oveh t'eh nex'. But I knew you'd wanna know, look, tell awla resta t'bunch, an' I'll tell moeh when we fin' it out! T'ank you much!" She races out the door and down the stairs, as Joe gapes with amazement at his wife. "C'n ya BEAT t'at?" he marvels. "Whatcha s'pose hap'nt?" "He's takin'a fawl f'somebody," frowns Sally. "Use ya head, Joe. Awlem cawps is crooked, an'neh musta been somebody higher'up in awnis." "Y't'ink?" queries Joe. "If I didn' know he was a frien'a Uncle Frank," ponders Sally, "I'd t'ink t'at Inspecteh t'eh, McLuhan, was in awn it." "Nahhhhh," demurs Joe. "Spppppppt," eyerolls Leonora.....)

("Well, thin," shrugs Uncle Frank. "I guess that's thaaat. If this barrrd Flannery confessed, Oi guess tharr ain' noothin' far oos t'do." "Whattaya mean?" snaps Solly. "You heeh anyt'ing 'bout t'is Wilentz characteh gett'n picked up yet?" "Well, nooo," acknowledges Uncle Frank, "but that's th' police's business now, doon'chee think? An' Oi've laaaarned oovar a long loifetoime ti's best naaaht t'meddle in police mattaaars..." "Y't'ink so, do ya?" scowls Solly. "Tell it t'ya buddy Doyle." "Now, that's a whool diff'rent..." protests Uncle Frank, but Solly cuts him off. "Y'see t'at posteh t'eh?" he glowers, jutting his thumb at the Victory Bonds poster behind the counter. "Let's Finish t' Jawb. Well, weeh gonna do t'at." "Oh," inhales Uncle Frank. "What?" demands Solly. "Noooothin..." exhales Uncle Frank....)

(And he isn't even habit forming...)

(Maybe Mary Haworth and Doc Brady AREN'T the same person. Doc would have taken care of this in once sentence: "Are you crazy?")

(Now just a minute. We loan Reiser to the Army for three years and they send him back broken??? They WON'T get back their security deposit!)

(This is why you need to put these projects out to bid.)

(Hey Cheech, I know a first lieutenant in the AAF who'd be less of a drip...)

(I thought Winchell was the only reporter who could get away with this.)

(How old are you, Scar? 35? You're right on schedule...)

(Nobody ever pays attention to public service announcements.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

You can't say Page Four doesn't offer something for everyone.

"Jus' gimme books." -- Leonora.

Well this should be entertaining.

ARRRF!

Oh come on, Terry, you could be in the show too. Comedy simpering is big right now. You could be the next Joe Besser.

Hey, it really IS Red Ryder!

Oh, that'll be easy. Read the papers lately?

You can criticize, wearing that shirt?

Thus ever to looters.

Next: Uncle Willie goes in for cataract surgery.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Worker...

Billy's father in law would love a trip to Rio. And a bullfighter from Brooklyn? What an idea for a Danny Kaye movie.

 

[Fading Fast]

"C'n ya BEAT t'at?" he marvels. "Whatcha s'pose hap'nt?" "He's takin'a fawl f'somebody," frowns Sally.

Ignorant me's first thought was plea bargain, but Sally's probably right.

I do like that it fully clears Sammy.

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

Now just a minute. We loan Reiser to the Army for three years and they send him back broken??? They WON'T get back their security deposit!

Nice.

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

This is why you need to put these projects out to bid.

I was thinking it's the result of poor P&Ps. The whole manual needs to be redone.

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

I thought Winchell was the only reporter who could get away with this.

Winchell couldn't pull off that hat, though.

*********************************************************
ARRRF!

AMERICA'S TRUE AND UNDEFEATED NUMBER ONE HERO DOG

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

$20 equals ~$360 today. Good luck getting a lawyer to say hello to you for $360 today. Although, the boys could have pulled down a partnership form from the web for free, but there's a reason the saying exists about getting what you pay for.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Whed'ja even get a typewriteh?" queries Joe. "Borreh'd fr'm t' Ginsboigs," explained Sally. "T'eh son lef' it when'ee wen' inna soivice. I was gonna use it t' write my papeh f' school. Y'know, 'bout t' t'ing wit' Sammy. But she gawt it an' she won' lemme neeh'rit." "Leonoreh," sighs Joe. "Give ya ma t'typewriteh." "I'm busy," growls Leonora, hunched over the opened case of a Corona portable and tapping with two fingers at its keyboard. "See?" flares Sally. "Like a cat wit' a fish." "Leonoreh, honey," wheedles Joe, "how'bouc'ha give ya ma a toin. An' you'n me'll go oveh t' Schreibstein's f'ra banana split, huh?" "Lateh," dismisses Leonora. "I'm busy." "Wheh did I eveh," fumes Sally, "get such a kid?" "C'mon, honey," tries Joe, "put away t'typewriteh an' we'll go downstaiehs n' see Willie. Y'c'n play wit'is dawg." "I seen Willie yest'ehday," rejects Leonora. "Leemee lone." "Can I see," exhales Joe, "whatcha doin'?" "No," declares Leonora. "It's f' Docteh Minkoff." "She's writin' 'bout US," scowls Sally. "She's foeh yeehs ol'," chuckles Joe. "Whas'shee gonna say?" "She's a foeh-yeehr-ol'," glares Sally, "t'at knows how t'use a typewriteh." "Ohhh," ohhs Joe....)

("I'm sure," purrs Inky Quinlan, "that you can see the opportunity that here presents itself." "Printin' phoony labels," sighs Uncle Frank, "aaahn ladies' staaackins." "You must admit," glistens Inky, "that the design is quite appealing. 'First Quality Nylon -- 15 Denier, 400 Needle. Because You Deserve The Finest.'" "That's a looovely tooch," snickers Uncle Frank. "I thought so," gleams Inky. "Boot any blooody fool c'n see," observes Uncle Frank, "that these ain't faaaarst quality noylaaan." "I had no idea," marvels Inky, "that you were an authority on ladies' hosiery." "We gaaaht two blooody gross'a th' fool things at Saaaargent Solly's," forwns Uncle Frank. "WAC saaaarploos. A hoondred paaarcent rayon. Nora toold me she wouldn't wear'm to a daaahgfoit." "Ah, but you see," explains Inky, "the label will wash off after the first wearing. The customer, should she prove dissatisfied, will have no recourse. In fact, the reason I call this to your attention is that, aware as I am of your -- access -- to such surplus items, that perhaps a collaboration..." "Ye ain't thinkin' a' troyin' t'poot this oovar aaahn Moozelewski," glowers Uncle Frank, "aaaare ye?" "Well," stumbles Inky, "I assumed that, as you are a stockholder in the shop, that..." "Yaaaar a shamefool man, Ignatius," condemns Uncle Frank. "Whoy, nivvar moind Moozelewski, d'ye actually think that Miss Kaplan woouldn't nootice, an'..." "Miss Kaplan," declares Inky, "is away for a time. Her mother in the Bronx. She has taken ill, the dear lady, and Miss Kaplan, ever the dutiful...." "Ah," ahs Uncle Frank. "Ahhhh," nods Inky...)

("I could too," fumes Bink Scanlan. "If t'at floozy Joan Barry c'n do it, I could do it. I tol'ya I was in a few shows. Durin'a Woil's Faieh, I woiked a week at De-Bunk-Eh. Y'know, wheh t'ey haddat bed t'ey tr'ow basebawls at an' knock t' goil outa bed. I had a week a' bein' knocked outa bed." Solly considers his opportunity, exhales, and lets it pass. "You do what'cha wawnt," he dismisses. "I gawt a lot on my min'." "Ya still t'ink ya gonna tr'ack t'at guy down?" snorts Bink. "Who died n' made you Ellery Queen?" "I don' like unfinished business," snaps Solly. "When I was ovehseas, we din' leave no loose ends. We wen' in an' done what we hadda do, an' we din' stawp till we done it awl." "You ain' ovehseas," observes Bink. "Ah, go rehoise f'ya dee-byoo," snarls Solly. "I got woik t'do." "I ain' givin' YOU," hmphs Bink, "no free tickets...")

("I don't know, dear, can we look at that potato field on Long Island again?")

("Brooklyn is *potentially one of* the greatest sports towns in the world?" I'm surprised the editor let that pass.)

(That's what happens when you end up on Page Four.)

(BRAZEN PAINTED CREATURE! BRAZEN PAINTED CREATURE! BRAZEN PAINTED CREATURE!)

(Cafe Society sure ain't what it used to be.)

(It's All Perfectly Innocent.)

("I'll pretend to have tuberculosis and he'll feel sorry for me!")