The Era -- Day By Day

[Fading Fast]

She'd neveh hoit nobody.

While, I agree with this statement overall, I know a train conductor who might disagree.


Separately, Truman meant well telling the Chinese to stop fighting in return for aid, but here it is 80 years later and this headline took twenty seconds to find:

Is China about to invade Taiwan?​

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Eleanor Parker isn't above some comicstrip work either.

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We all miss you, Mr. Barrymore. It just hasn't been the same since you left us.

He really was great copy. If he wasn't real, somebody would have had to invent him.

 

[EngProf]

And in the Worker...

View attachment 755066
The cigarette business has always been hazardous to your health.

One of the best photos in our family album is a shot of me and my brother seeing Santa at the old JL Hudson store in Detroit.
I am about seven and my brother was three.
I'm smiling ear-to-ear, and my little brother, who is about three, is bawling his head off.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("S'no use bangin' on it, Sal," admonishes Joe. "T'damn' t'ing's stone cold. You know Krause is try'na get t'heat up again, an' bangin' awn it ain' gonna make 'im woik any fasteh." "I know," grumbles Sally, "but at leas' it wawrms ME up." "MAAAAA!" bellows Leonora, clutching the right side of her head. "It'zat eehr'again," sighs Sally. "Evr'y winteh, anot'eh infection. Look, you go down an' seef'ya c'n help Krause, 'n I'll see'f I c'n help 'eh." "Yeh," nods Joe, gripping his coat tight over his pajamas. "You do whatcha Ma tells ya," he instructs his daughter as he exits. "WHAT?" bellows Leonora. "Don' holleh, please -- " Sally flusters, "jus' lemme look. T'oin ya head." Leonora whimpers, clasping her head. "I know," replies Sally, "but I gotta see -- Leonoreh! Toin' ya head!" Sally inhales sharply as realization dawns. She shifts around and repeats, into her daughter's left ear. "Toin ya head." With a sniffle, Leonora complies. Sally shifts again, and speaks again, in the same tone, into her daughter's right ear. "Toin it back." There is no response. "Christawmighty," whispers Sally, as she gently pushes her daughter's hair aside to peer into the infected ear...)

("Thim men bettar get here quick t' fix that windarr," declares Uncle Frank. "It can't be aboov freezin' in here." "At leas' t' ice cream won' sperl," sighs Bink. "A foine situation waaaar in," grumbles Ma. "An' naaahtta blooody thing we c'n do aboot it." Uncle Frank eyes his two-cents plain and shoves it aside, feeling no need for a refreshing cold drink, just as the telephone rings. Seated nearest the phone, Uncle Frank steps to the wall and answers. "Lieb's Looncheonette," he sighs, "oopen faar business noo mattar what. Oh. Well, what'd he say? Hoo mooch? That blooody poirate. Ahhl roit, tell 'im t' goo ahead, boot Oi hoop'ee chooks aaahn it." He hangs up and in a foul mood returns to his stool. "Thaat was Danny," he explains. "Foond a rear end faaar th' troock out at a wreckin' yaaard in Flooshin'. Daaarty robbar's chargin' oos fifty dollars. Oi couldn't sell th' whool damn troock farr that." "Ought t'be Saaaaaargeant Pincus pays faaaar it," growls Ma. "Him an' his proivate oye naaahnsense." "I bet he c'n getcha a whole NEW truck," declares Bink. "Oi'm still wait'n," grumbles Uncle Frank, "farr th' jeeps...")

(Give it a few years, and you'll know.)

(Soccer in the snow? Coming events...)

("Well, I dunno how t'ey come awff cawlin'at guy Coinal Blimp," declares Bink as she and Rosa Capiello exit the Patio. "Wasn' a single blimp inna whole pitcheh." "I can't stan'nem foreign pitchehs," nods Rosa. "Awlat la-de-dah lingo." They stroll past Mozelewski's of Brooklyn's festive display window, where a fastidious sign announces "Yes we have NILONS. Limited Stock, Purchase Early!" "What's "nihl-ons?" ponders Rosa. "I dunno," snickers Bink. "But I bet I know who prin'ed t'at sign!")

(It's the dramatic lighting that makes the scene.)

(Let's play no-dimensional chess.)

(You've got to play the ball where it lies.)

(I miss Carole Lombard.)

(KID FIGHT!)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

Ah, but Smith's Bible Dictionary, edition of 1884, is far less dogmatic on this point -- while acknowledging the significance of Hermon as the "great landmark of the Israelites," the only mention of it as the site of the Transfiguration comes in the form of a parenthetical insertion by the editor suggesting that this is "likely," since the mountain is near Caesari Phillippi, "where we know Christ was just before the event." There are three summits to Hermon, but there is no assertion made as to just which of these might have been the site. Smith's also points out that Hermon was indicated in the book of Judges as a site where Baal worship was conducted, which just goes to show you can't judge a mountain by the people who climb it...

Settle down, boys, they aren't looking at you anyway. AND NO CRACKS ABOUT VALLEE.

Fob, on the other hand, knows how to fully command any stage.

There's something endearing about the fact that Kitty keeps a headshot of B-B Eyes on her bedroom wall, and that he had a cigar in his mouth when the picture was taken.

Can't someone settle this child down?


"Really? What do you know about balsa wood and rubber bands?"

Jump on the treadmill, kids.

"How does 1947 sound?"

"I DON'T like his HAT!"

I once had a random alley cat come in my kitchen window and eat all the cheese off a pizza, so it COULD HAPPEN.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Worker...

Hey, when you've got a successful formula, don't change it.

 

[Fading Fast]

Sally shifts again, and speaks again, in the same tone, into her daughter's right ear. "Toin it back." There is no response. "Christawmighty," whispers Sally, as she gently pushes her daughter's hair aside to peer into the infected ear...

Jesus, no.

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If the goal is to get me to notice – good ad then. If the goal is to get me to want to buy the product – back to the drawing board, boys.

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You've got to play the ball where it lies.

I love how offended and angry crooks get when they get cheated. It happens quite often in comicstrips.

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

Settle down, boys, they aren't looking at you anyway. AND NO CRACKS ABOUT VALLEE.

I could see Sally wincing on that one, but she's got other things on her mind right now.

"There's nothing appealing about bare legs." — D*ck Wray

You're making Terry look experienced.

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

There's something endearing about the fact that Kitty keeps a headshot of B-B Eyes on her bedroom wall, and that he had a cigar in his mouth when the picture was taken.

It's insane, but there was a time when a not-insignificant portion of the population thought cigar smoking looked cool. I think it's revolting, but that doesn't alter the fact that a "big stogie" was considered impressive by many. I don't know how that happened, but it did. Heck, there was that brief revival of it in the 1990s when it had a cool vibe with some too.

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

Can't someone settle this child down?

I still don't understand why the bad guys are even bothering to keep up this charade. Just lock these three in a cellar somewhere, throw them some food and water everyday like normal kidnappers do, and move on.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Yeh," nods Sally. "Y'betteh go awn ahead wit'out me. I gotta absentee t'day an' take Leonoreh t' see Docteh Katzman." "Oh," ohs Alice, pointing to her ear. "Izzit...?" "Yeh," sighs Sally. "An' it ain' like befoeh. I don' t'ink she c'n heeh outa t'at eeh. An'nis mawrnin', she's runnin' a feveh." "Ohhh," replies Alice, her face grave. "Lissen, Sal, I'll absentee too, I can go witcha f' -- I dunno, moral suppoeht a'sum'pn." "Nah," dismisses Sally, "I'll be awright. I'm jus'..." "What is?" comes the voice of Mr. Ginsburg, opening his apartment door. "I couldn't help to hear -- Leonora, she is sick?" "Yeh," nods Sally. "I'm takin' 'eh t't' docteh soon as I c'n get 'eh up an' dressed. Look, Misteh G, woul'ja do me a faveh? Go oveh t' Schreibstein's whenney open up an' cawl Docteh Minkoff, tell 'im what's goin' awn, an' t'at Leonoreh won' be inta t'clinic t'day, an' maybe nawt t'marreh. I jus' dunno. "This I will do," agrees Mr. Ginsburg. He notices the anxiety in Sally's face, and clasps her hand. She returns the squeeze, and heads silently back up the stairs...)

("Ah," ahs Dr. Katzman, peering into his otoscope as Leonora squirms on the examination table. "Hmm," he adds, making a note on the chart. He plucks the thermometer from his patient's mouth, and receives a bitter scowl in return. "A hundred and three," he observes. "And you say this came on overnight?" "Yeh," nods Sally. "I mean, she gets'ese infections ev'ry winteh, eveh since she was a baby, but she fevehed up quick t'is time, an' like I said..." Dr. Katzman stands at Leonora's right. "Leonora," he begins in a crisp tone. "Turn around." There is no reply, as she stares at his diploma on the opposite wall. "New Yawrk Un-i-voissy," she reads aloud. "I go t'eh too." The doctor takes this comment in stride, and steps to the child's left. "Leonora," he repeats, "turn around." "Leemee lone," frowns Leonora. She glares at her mother. "You said we was goin' t' Hawrn n' Hardawrt." "Lateh," nods Sally. "Y'see, Docteh? She ain't hearin' nut'n outta t'at eeh. T'at's neveh happn't befoeh." "There is considerable inflammation in the ear canal," states the Doctor. "Have you observed any drainage?" "Yeh," sighs Sally, twisting her gloves. "T'eh was a stain on'eh pillehcase t'is moehrnin.." "Ah," notes the doctor, adding to the chart. "Mrs. Petrauskas," he resumes, "as you know, this is a chronic condition with your daughter, and I'm concerned it may be developing into mastoiditis, which can be..." "Is she gonna lose'eh heerin'?" demands Sally. "In most cases," continues the doctor, "the hearing loss is not permanent. A course of sulfanilamide is indicated, but..." "Well," interrupts Sally. "What about penicillin? T'at's s'posta cueh anyt'ing." "Unfortunately," shrugs the Doctor, "there is still a shortage for civilian patients, so..." "Well, awright t'en," exhales Sally, "gimme t' pills an'..." "There are other concerns," continues the Doctor. "The fact that this fever came on so quickly suggests that this is an especially -- ah -- well, given the potential for complications..." "What kin'a complications," frowns Sally. "Well," explains the doctor, "there is the possibility of meningitis. That being the case, Mrs. Petrauskas, I would like to hold Leonora for observation, at least thru tomorrow, until.." "You mean inna hospital???" gasps Sally. "My kid, inna hospital?" "I do so advise," nods the Doctor. "Whezya phone," demands Sally. "I gotta cawl my husban'." "Ain' we goin', sniffles Leonora, "t' Hawrn 'n Hardawrt...?)

(It's going to be that kind of winter.)

(NO ONE is "half Dodger.")

("Purifying" college athletics? Oh Mr. Trost, how you talk.)

(The Guild will not stand for this!)

("No, I'm just wondering where I should go to get CHUMP tattooed on my forehead.")

(Janie's fashions are always right up to the minute, so I guess snoods are really back.)

(I always enjoy seeing Franklin Pangborn turn up, don't you?)

(Just what he wanted too, one of those self-inflating Navy rafts. Sergeant Solly's Surplus makes your holiday dreams come true!)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

Oh, to be a guest at the Stokowski holiday table this year...

Hughie weighs 263 pounds?? I can't wait for his rematch with Hemingway.

Don't point at anything you don't intend to shoot. Didn't you ever take a basic finger-safety course?

Well, at least the kid gets to have a little fun.

I remember those years at a certain former job where I always got a grapefruit. And I don't even like grapefruit.

And whatever you do, DON'T leave the engine running.

And so it begins...

That's why Jon's the detective.

Rayons, on the other hand, we just got in two gross.

Windowpane overcoats are back!

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Worker...

NBC officially banned the 'n-----' word in 1935. Somebody didn't get the memo.

 

[Fading Fast]

"What about penicillin? T'at's s'posta cueh anyt'ing." "Unfortunately," shrugs the Doctor, "there is still a shortage for civilian patients, so..."

What we need is Solly, not Frank, to get some penicillin. Solly would get the real stuff; Frank's would be expired or sugar pills.

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I always enjoy seeing Franklin Pangborn turn up, don't you?

Good one.

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Well, at least the kid gets to have a little fun.

You can almost forget what an talented illustrator Caniff is and then you pause for a day and really look – these people look real. Panel 3 is particularly impressive.

 

[LizzieMaine]

(In the children's ward at Israel Zion Hospital on 48th Street, Sally slumps in a chair beside the bed in which Leonora sweats a fitful sleep. A nurse approaches. "Ma'am," she whispers. "Visiting hours are over." Sally looks up but does not rise from the chair. "I'm stayin'," she declares, in a low, even voice. "But..." protests the nurse. "I said," repeats Sally, looking directly into the nurse's eyes, "I'm stayin'." There is a tense silence before the nurse gives a quiet nod. "I'll bring," she concedes, "a blanket...")

("Ahhl roit," summarizes Ma, leaning into the telephone. "Ye want two dollarrrs aaahn foive t' eight inches befaaaar six PM. All roit, yarrr doon. Oh, noo, yaaar credit's good. We knoo whar t'foind ye. G'bye t'ye...." She makes a note on a scrap of napkin, and tucks it into her apron pocket. Hanging up the phone, she looks out the front door to the sidewalk, where Joe and Heckie are busy with the shovels. "Oi doon't s'poose," she sighs, "that bloooody glazier is coomin' t'day." "What'dye think?" exhales Uncle Frank. "T'em blankets ya hung oveh t'windeh ain' helpin' much," adds Bink. "Oi'll goo next darr in a bit," shrugs Uncle Frank. "Tharr's a whool crate'a thim blankets. Solly won't moind if..." "Won't min' what?" comes a voice, as the door jingles open to admit Solly Pincus in person. "Ahh..." stammers Uncle Frank. "Skip it," dismisses Solly. "I jus' tawked t' Joe out fron'. He wants t'go oveh t't'hospit'l, so I tol' 'im I'd finish shovelin'. T'at's a tough break f'..." He is interrupted by the phone, and Ma answers. "Lieb's Luncheone.....doon't taaaahk soo fast, daughter. Yes. Yes, he's herrre." She jerks a thumb toward the door. "Woona ye go get Joseph. Sally on th' phooon." Solly steps outside, engages in a quick conversation, takes Joe's shovel, and Joe enters, stomping the snow off his feet. He steps briskly to the phone and takes the receiver. "H'lo -- Sal? What's -- slow down -- wha -- Gawdawmighty -- awright, I'm comin' right oveh. Be t'ehr'n'about haffa'noueh. Jus' don' -- yeh, I know, look, I'm awn my way." Without goodbyes, Joe slaps the receiver into its hook, and turns to the waiting spectators. "I gotta go," he jitters. "Joseph," pleads Ma. "Whoot's th' mattar? Whoot's happ'nin'?" "It's Leonoreh," he chokes. "She's real sick. T'eh gonna opehrate. Sal says it's sump'n cawled a mastehdectehmy? Look, I'll cawl ya when I know -- I'll cawl ya..." He races out the door, and plunges thru the clotted snow clogging Rogers Avenue before disappearing at a full run down Midwood Street. "Mootharr'a maaarcy," whispers Ma...)

(A movie co-starring Betty Hutton and Barry Fitzgerald promises much. But somehow I question whether it will deliver.)

("Oh no, we weren't planning to have the stars sing the commercials. We want to bring in Leo Durocher!")

("The purity of college sports.")

(These French directors with their ultra-realism....)

(Put your glasses back on, stupid. It'll be easier to see her when she laughs in your face.)

("Would a cop have a coat like this? Oh, wait...")

(Sorry, in the Comic Pages Beefcake Derby, Sandy runs a poor third to Moon Mullins and Skeezix. But he gets honorable mention for careful positioning.)

(AMERICA'S NUMBER ONE HERO DOG ALWAYS HAS A CLEVER PLAN)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

As Joe paces the Prospect Park station waiting for his train, he pauses to pick up an abandoned copy of the News splayed under a bench....

Miss Toy picked up her stage name because she was born two days after Christmas. Let that one sink in a bit.

NO FAIR!

"An' if he don't like yuh, well, Punjab's right there with the rug..."

("Even YOU get one! What is this, dyed rabbit??")

There's always someone with a secret radio transmitter...

"Did you get the electricity turned on?" "I thought YOU did!"

I'm sorry, I never trust a man whose hat is bigger than his shoulders.

Pop, dealing black market lingerie from his back room? Now that'd be a good story.

Come now, son -- we know she's at least fifty.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Worker --

Eagles of a feather...

 

[Fading Fast]

T'eh gonna opehrate. Sal says it's sump'n cawled a mastehdectehmy?

Jesus.

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A movie co-starring Betty Hutton and Barry Fitzgerald promises much. But somehow I question whether it will deliver.

Hutton's happy to costar opposite a man shorter than she is. The shame is they didn't film at the Stork Club itself.

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

Miss Toy picked up her stage name because she was born two days after Christmas. Let that one sink in a bit.

You can have it all straight in your own mind, but when you're marrying a stripper, you have to expect a few extra questions.

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

NO FAIR!

We see it all the time in comicstrips, nobody is more offended at being cheated or tricked than crooks.

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

"Cash upfront, kid."

 

[Fading Fast]

T'eh gonna opehrate. Sal says it's sump'n cawled a mastehdectehmy?

Jesus.

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

A movie co-starring Betty Hutton and Barry Fitzgerald promises much. But somehow I question whether it will deliver.

Hutton's happy to costar opposite a man shorter than she is. The shame is they didn't film at the Stork Club itself.

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

Miss Toy picked up her stage name because she was born two days after Christmas. Let that one sink in a bit.

You can have it all straight in your own mind, but when you're marrying a stripper, you have to expect a few extra questions.

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

NO FAIR!

We see it all the time in comicstrips, nobody is more offended at being cheated or tricked than crooks.

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

"Cash upfront, kid."

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Lemme get t'is straight," frowns Sally. "Ya gonna drill a HOLE inn'eh HEAD? My lit'l goil, ya gonna drill a hole..." "As I said, Mrs. Petrauskas," reiterates Dr. Katzman, "I won't be peforming the operation myself. The surgeon on Leonora's case will be the doctor you met earlier, Dr. Glass. He's..." "T'at guy?" gapes Sally. "He's a kid! He ain' no oldeh'r'n I am. How'zee know enough..." "Dr. Glass is a very fine otological surgeon," reassures Dr. Katzman. "In the Army, he.." "He betteh be good" warns Sally. "Tell me t'is, t'ough -- whennis is done wit', she ain' gonna have no moeh'ra t'ese infections, right? An'neh ain' gonna be nut'n wrawng wit'eh heehr'in." "Most patients do recover," nods Dr. Katzman, "most of their hearing in the affected ear." "MOSTA," blurts Sally. "But not AWL, izzat whatcha...." "Sal," calls out Joe, stepping out of the ward and into the corridor. "T'eh get'n ready t' take 'eh in. She wants t'see ya befoeh..." With a final glare at Dr. Katzman, Sally hastens into the ward, where a nurse has placed Leonora on a gurney for her trip to the operating room. "Ma," Leonora sniffles, her eyes red. "I'm 'eeh, honey," assures Sally, taking her daughter's hands. "I'm right 'eeh." "You said we was gonna go," Leonora sniffs, "t' Hawrn n' Hawrdart...")

("No, I ain' hoid nut'n yet," sighs Alice, standing at the foot of the stairway to the second floor. "I wen' oveh t' Schreibstein's an' cawlt Sal's ma, an' she ain' hoid nut'n neit'eh." "I figured closed they would be," sighs Mr. Ginsburg. "From the snow." "Lil gimme a key," explains Alice. "So I c'd use t'phone f', y'know, emoigencies. I t'ink t'is counts f'r'n emoigency. I'm goin' upstaiehs now to feed Stella -- she don' mind bein' left alone, but she wants'eh sawrdines awn time." "This Doctor Katzman," queries Mr. Ginsburg. "He is you think the best? Because another doctor I know who..." ""T'ey been takin' Lenoreh t' see 'im since she was a baby," nods Alice. "I jus' worry how t'eh gonna pay f'raw'is. I mean, you hoid we'eh goin' awn strike out' t' plant afteh t' foist'a t' yeeh. Sal don't t'ink it'll last lawng, but I dunno. T'is has been a rotten yeeh f't'two'v'm, y'know? Ev'ryt'ing t'at's hap'nt. I wish t'ey could get a break f'oncet." "To trouble man is born," sighs Mr. Ginsburg, "as upward the sparks are flying." "Sparks," nods Alice. "Wit'tem, it's a reg'leh confabulation...")

("I'm tellin' ya, pops," conspires Heckie, "t'is time I got a sueh t'ing onna boid. Rosa tells me..." "We ain't gooin' t'have noo Christmas dinnar this year," declares Uncle Frank. "Naaaht with all that's gooin' aahn. Joe an' Sally got tharr hands fool, an' Nora joost ain't gaaaht th' haaart farr it." "Tell ya what," proposes Heckie. "What if I was t'tell ya I could get'cha t' boid an' awla trimmin's, real home cookin', an' bring it right up t'ya place 'eeh, awl cooked an' ready t'go, an' you ain' gotta do a t'ing but eat it? Huh?" Uncle Frank takes a contemplative chew of his Tootsie Roll to consider the proposition. "Hoo mooch?" he queries. "Well, lemme see," calculates Heckie. "If it's jus' you an'na ol' lady..." "An' Oi s'pose Bink," shrugs Uncle Frank. He exhales. 'An' if little Leonora's oota th' hospital, an' Joe an' Sally coom -- an' Oi s'pose Mr. an' Mrs. Krause an' yoong Willie -- aannd, Oi s'pose, Jimmy an' Danny..." "Awright," figures Heckie. "Tat's twelve people." "Eleven," protests Uncle Frank. "Y'gonna invite me, ain'cha?" smirks Heckie. "Tell ya what. Twenny-five bucks." "Two dollaaars an' change a head?" sputters Uncle Frank. "We can goo t' th' Dragon's Den farr a dollar a head farr th' whool boonch." "Ah," wheedles Heckie, "but t'is is real home cookin'..." "Well," exhales Uncle Frank. "Lemme think it ooovarrrr.." "Sueh, pops," grins Heckie. "Take ya time. Chris'mas is five days out. But don' wait too lawng. R'membeh T'anksgivin..." "Oi woont soon," mutters Uncle Frank, "faaaarget...")

("But they said they'd throw in the pinball machine cheap!")

(Arky didn't like you in 1942, Leo, or in 1943 -- and he's had two whole years to not like you from afar. And the fat talk isn't going to make him like you any more than that.)

(I"ll be glad when the hard boiled noir craze is over.)

("Well, I suppose it's interesting if you care for that sort of thing...")

(Have you considered the stock market?)

(Well, so much for screwball comedy.)

(AMERICA'S NUMBER ONE CODEPENDENT DOG)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

"She's stealing my bit!" -- Ursula Parrott

Well, *somebody* had to disagree with Anthony Adverse or there wouldn't have been any book!

He can't be all bad. He put up a Christmas Seals poster!

"Ah, but a robe like this will remind him of --ah -- all the fun he had...?"

"Now who's got a sandwich??"

Good thing there's no shortage of those little bulbs...

All else aside, you've got to respect Andy for wearing a tuxedo in the middle of the desert. Who says the old decorum is dead?

Ooh, now you've done it!

We all knew what we were going to see when all this started, so we might as well get it over with.

Sometimes a drooping cigar is just a drooping cigar.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Worker...

But at least we got a white Christmas...

 

[Fading Fast]

"I jus' worry how t'eh gonna pay f'raw'is.

I believe I've mentioned this before, but in the 1930s, when my Dad was a young adolescent, he had to have surgery for osteomyelitis or most likely lose his leg, but they had to pay the NYC specialist (that's where you found them) in advance according to the story I was told growing up of which there is no one alive now to confirm it anymore.

The story goes that my dad's widowed mother scrambled like all heck to get the money to pay for that in the Depression. I saw the scars on my dad's leg and I know they had no money in the Depression, but still, adult me would love to ask some questions about all that, that I didn't at the time I was told the story.

Last fun fact: the surgery was done at Tudor Hospital – fifty-plus years later, I took an apartment only a few blocks from there when I was working in NYC after college.

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

I"ll be glad when the hard boiled noir craze is over.

If comicstrips are going to follow Hollywood, it's just getting started. Postwar film noir wouldn't peak until the end of the '40s and was still going reasonably strong into the mid '50s.

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

Well, so much for screwball comedy.

Took a noir-ish turn, just sayin'.

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

"She's stealing my bit!" -- Ursula Parrott

That pinged into my head too. Parrott was a bit of a wackadoodle.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("I foun' a deli down 10t' Aveneh," whispers Joe, pulling the bed curtain closed behind him. "I slipped'a noice haffa buck t' look t'ot'eh way. Heeh y'go, cawrn beef awn rye 'n a full soueh." "T'anks," nods Sally, accepting the folded paper bag. "You eat?" "Eh," ehs Joe. "T'eh wazzis canny stoeh wit' a lunch coun'eh down by t'deli. I stawp't in, had a look aroun'. T'ey had'eez hamboigehs looked like sump'n y'd use t' half sole ya shoe. Lawss' me appetite." "Y'otta get'cha beef sanwiches inneh," suggests Sally, "like Solly's been sayin'." "Yeh," shrugs Joe, gazing at his daughter, the right side of her head bandaged. "T'ey hadda cut 'eh haieh," he frowns. "Backa t' eeh t'eh." "It'll grow back," sighs Sally. "She gawt youeh haieh. Grows fas' " "Yeh," nods Joe, hitching his pants as he sits on one of the hard bedside chairs. "Y'jus' mist' Docteh Glass," continues Sally. "He come t'ru onna roun's, took a look at'eh. Says we shouldn' worry, he gawt out awla, you know, t'stuff t'at was inneh, t' infection. He said'ey got inneh jus' in time." "She was sleepin' when I lef'," observes Joe, "an' she's still sleepin' now." "T'ey give 'eh sump'n t' make 'eh sleep," explains Sally. "Prob'ly jus' as well." Joe leans forward in his chair as Sally unwraps her pickle and takes a cautious bite. "Oh yeh," she nods. "At'sa stuff. T'at'sa Crown pickle right t'eh. Y'wanna bite?" "Neh," dismisses Joe. He takes a deep breath. "We can't get downa bank till Monday," he notes. "You'll hafta absentee fr'm woik, some'a t'em bonds is in youeh name." "Yeh," nods Sally, thru a mouthful of pickle. She swallows, and wads up the wax paper wrapper. "We c'n get by wit'tout a 'letric refrigehrateh." "Yeh," sighs Joe, watching the vulnerable small figure in the bed pawing in her sleep at her bandaged ear...)

("Yeh," nods Alice. "Me'n Siddy 'n Willie gonna go oveh t'night." "Ah," nods Mr. Ginsburg. "Esther and I, tomorrow will. In the afternoon to see her." "Sal says she ain' been awake much," notes Alice, "but t' feveh's gawn down. Too oily t'know 'bout 'eh heerin'..." "I went across street to buying tobacco," relates Mr. Ginsburg. "In the store was Lottie Schreibstein. 'Can I go see her?' she is asking. 'Can I go see Leonora'." "I t'ought t'ey hated each ot'eh," marvels Alice. "Every child,"reflects Mr. Ginsburg, "is thinking they hate the child across the street. Until that child is not there...")

("I was lookin' f'you," scowls Bink Scanlan. "Didja tawk't'wim? What'dee say?" "Doooon' worrry," grins Heckie Capiello. "It's inna bag!")

("I thought you said this was her mah-jongg night?")

(The first thing to understand about the scholastic sports racket is that it's a racket.)

(Everybody wants to get into the act.)

("Whew, that's a relief. I thought *I* was going to be stuck with you.")

(You know, we could really use a strip about an action-packed postal inspector. What a great job for Dan Dunn.)

("We can't even have a nice quiet night out without it turning into a Walter Wanger Production!")

("He never fooled ME!" -- Some other comic strip dog.)