The Era -- Day By Day

[LizzieMaine]

("Yeh," sighs Sally. "Joe wen' inteh Schreibstein's'is mawrnin' t'get a papeh, an'ee says Lil give 'im n'is big-eye look, an'nen shook 'eh head an' jus' siiiiiiiighed, like t'at t'eh. It was t' damndes' t'ing." "Oh," ohs Alice. "Um, I wasn' gonna say nut'n, but I wen' down t' Ebingeh's 'is mawrnin t'get somea' t'at blackout cake Siddy likes, an' Katie woiks b'hin'a coun'eh inneh ast me how Joe was takin' it. An' I says 'what's 'it?'" An' she jus' looks at me an' shakes 'eh head an' goes jus' like t'at, she siiiiiiiighs. What's goin' awn, Sal? How come I gotta heeh f'm Katie inna bakehry?" "Heeh what?" snaps Sally. "Well,' stumbles Alice, "you tell ME." "How'm I s'posta tell YOU," bursts Sally, "if I dunno nut'n neiteh?" "You mean you ain' hoid?" gapes Alice. "Some day," vows Sally, "I'm gonna go live on Staten Islan'." "Neh," dismisses Alice. "T'em smawl towns. Fulla gossip.")

("I tol' ya," reiterates Sergeant Doyle, "y'got nut'n t'worry 'bout. Ya paid up awnya insurance, an' nobody's gonna bot'eh ya." "Oi imagine," sighs Uncle Frank, "th' premiums will be goin 'oop." "Well," shrugs Doyle, "it's ya postwawr inflation, ain'it....")

(Coming events...)

(Even money the Giants could've beat the sandlotters.)

(A little bump like that? Jane Arden's cowboy is manlier.)

(An unexpected revelation isn't unexpected if everybody expected it.)

(It's the fumbling incompetence that does it.)

(Um.)

(Hmph. "Some dog.")

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

Who says romance is dead?

Coming events...

"I'll want a receipt, o' course..."

Those were for spitting at the audience if they got rough.

You know, if you put this much effort into keeping a job...

Tsk, Tracy -- remember you're spoken for.

Fish in a barrel.

Careful planning is 90 percent of the campaign.

"Ceee-ment mixer, put-ty put-ty..."

All the water that gets spilled in this house, the floors will be caving in any minute...

 

[LizzieMaine]

And also...

How much did it cost you, Bill?

 

[Fading Fast]

Coming events...

C-Span proved how awful it is to watch the sausage being made, especially when most of it is still made incamera.

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A little bump like that? Jane Arden's cowboy is manlier.

Jane Arden is manlier.

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Who says romance is dead?

Hard to keep all the salacious details straight on Page 4 today.

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"I'll want a receipt, o' course..."

I don't remember the particulars anymore, but she did have a suitcase full of money - right?

 

[LizzieMaine]

Yep, she "acquired" it, if I remember right, from those unfortunate spies on the island after they got Punjabbed, and then she bought a bus ticket and a quantity of take-out hamburgers. Live large, kid.

 

[Harp]

The Central Park assault and Mr Hyland's gallantry reflect the best and worst of human nature.

The Hesse jewels arguably present defendants lawful defense under Justinian's Law, recognized by
American military authorities that allowed legal ownership of war ***** seized during the war.
The defendants here should have acted more prudently, secreting said for later retrieve-years later,
and giving the matter some thought. A bit too precipitous and foolish.

Those adorable English stowaways are nowhere seen today. The girls lack standing and liable deportation unless matrimony proposed their errant GI knaves, which I frankly doubt will materialize.

That Ochsner kid has two ladies with child and stowaways determined in their pursuit.
Having lived in Honolulu myself, the wahinies are rather unapologetically frank and the most direct women
on the planet. I hope the poor little rich mama's boy gets his *** reamed in court.

Mrs Worth is definitely hot copy. Ian should lay off broads for some time but first get drunk and properly hung over before sorting the whole mess out in his mind.

Terry should ask himself why he's still in the Army more often.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Yeh, I t'ink t'at's a good ideeh," nods Sally, fanning herself with a coverless copy of "Modern Romances" abandoned on the counter as she takes a sip of her Coke. "We ain' been t' Coney in ages," nods Joe. "Cooleh t'eh t'an it is heeh." "Ain'a same since Luna Pawrk boint down," sighs Sally. "I useta love t'at shoot-t'-shoots." She turns on her stool and eyes her daughter immersed in a copy of "Speed Detective." "Leonoreh!" she calls. "Y'wanna go t' Coney Islan' afteh I get back fr'm Docteh Levine's? An' puddown'at doity book!" "NO!" defies Leonora. "She'll change'h mind," shrugs Sally, turning back to her husband. "We gotta go home fois', get t' bat'in' suits." "Nah," nahs Joe. "I dowanna go inna wawteh. I'll jus' sit onna beach." "Well," snorts Sally, surveying Joe's workday attire of t-shirt and white duck pants. "You ain' gonna sit awna beach dressed up like a fry cook," she continues. "B'sides, y'look good witcha shoit awff." "NO," growls Joe. "Jus' *no*." "Wha's eat'n YOU?" snaps Sally. "NUT'N," retorts Joe. "I jus' DO"WANNA sit awna beach wit' me shoit awff! Now DROP IT." "Oh," ohs Sally, her voice suddenly quiet. "I'm sawry, Joe," she apologizes. "I f'got about..." She trails off, touching her right shoulder." "S'awright," mutters Joe. "Jus' skip it. You'n Leonoreh go, I got woik t'do anyways." "Aw, Joe," exhales Sally, "look. It won't be..." "Hey," interrupts Joe. "What?" puzzles Sally. "Nut'n," headshakes Joe. "I t'ought I seen somebody stan'in onna sidewawk lookin' in'eeh." "Maybe t'ey figyehed'ey wasn' hungry aftehrawl," eyerolls Sally. "Look, you t'ink it oveh, an' come wit' us. You weah whateveh ya wanna, t'ez lots y'can do downeh witcha shoit awn." "Yeh," nods Joe, scowling toward the screen door...)

("I'm tellin' ya," gasps Miss Kaplan. "I hoid'a whole t'ing, right t'ru t' screen dooeh! She was tearin'at pooeh man up one side an' downa ot'eh!" "Suuuueh she was," snorts Mozelewski, not looking up from his drawing board. "We gotta do sump'n!" declares Miss Kaplan. "A time like t'is wit' a crazy wife awna rampage, Joe NEEDS us!" "Joe'll be awright," sighs Mozelewski. "I'm gonna fin' out what t'is is awl about!" vows Miss Kaplan. "I'm goin' oveh t' Bensonhoist, an' I'm gonna get t' t' bottom'a t'is!" "No you ain't," headshakes Mozelewski. "Wawtch me!" growls Miss Kaplan, tripping over the wastebasket as she heads for the door....)

(Pee Wee vs. Peanuts. This is why baseball is the best sport.)

(Don't go in show business, it'll break your heart and leave you flat. On the other hand, so will falling off a horse.)

(And after all that, rabbits don't even eat fish.)

("Really? How nice. Oh. They're too small. You must've gotten your own size by mistake.")

("Now that's a very fine moustache." -- Ignatius J. Quinlan.)

(Mr. Lovcash is about to become Mr. Desta Toot.)

(And Maestro Rodzinski never hits a baaaaaaaaad note.)

(Never mind this soap opera junk, who's the papa?)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

"Delbert 'Shorty' Sprouse?" "Mattie Lyons Large?" Boy, that Preston Sturges really gets around.

Sportswear by Davega.

"THAT'S NOT THE WAY TO DO IT!" -- Bink Scanlan

Well, if you have to wait six months to get a pair of stockings, you're gonna wear them everywhere.

Everybody's just trying to get along...

Better have your getaway planned...

Not a crook after all? Even worse, she's a press agent!

A professional as sassin might cost a little more, but you can't put a price on the satisfaction of a job well done.

All right, next story...

All set for college then?

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Worker...

Nobody wanted to end up in San Diego...

 

[Fading Fast]

Re the "Tercentenary," easy to get from context, but doubt I ever heard that word before. Pretty cool. Anything good in the 38 page insert?

Re Joe: it really is a shame how much stuff that shouldn't matter messes us up when we are young that you realize as you get older doesn't mean squat. I am as guilty of that as anyone.

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"Wawtch me!" growls Miss Kaplan, tripping over the wastebasket as she heads for the door....

Good God.

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I dated a decent number of girls when I was younger and one thing I learned was that no curl in the recorded history of time has ever just "fall[en] right into place without any fuss."

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Pee Wee vs. Peanuts. This is why baseball is the best sport.



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Better have your getaway planned...

Her blind faith in Slits makes no sense.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And a few highlights as America's Biggest Small Town celebrates its birthday....

 

[Fading Fast]

Thank you for posting all of that, Lizzie. I've just gone through a few pages, but I'll visit them again as I can over the next several days to work through it all. In the fun cartoon feature, it notes that ferry service between Manhattan and Brooklyn ran from 1642 to 1924.

I can at least claim to have experienced its revival. It's a fun way to see both skylines. I'd encourage anyone who visits the city and wants to see Brooklyn (and you should) to consider taking the service at least one way for the experience and views.

From Google AI:

The modern ferry service between Manhattan and Brooklyn returned in stages, beginning with the return of private operators in 2002. The first formalized city-wide modern system launched on May 1, 2017. [1, 2]
The revival of these iconic East River crossings progressed through several key milestones:

• Private Revival (2002): Service between Brooklyn's Fulton Ferry Landing and Manhattan's Wall Street was brought back by New York Water Taxi. [1]
• Route Expansion (2011): NY Waterway took over and expanded the route into a regular, multi-stop East River service. [1]
• NYC Ferry Launch (2017): The city officially launched the NYC Ferry network, integrating older routes and expanding to South Brooklyn and Astoria. [1]

 

[Harp]

Brooklyn is amazing and richly deserves its press coverage.

The Hesse jewels investigation illustrate amateurish heavy handed carelessness. I suspect the Durants
are headed stockade city along with their compadres for a significant stretch. If this were my old outfit, we'd lay low and let the heat dissipate before swinging for any fence.

Delbert Sprouse reminds me of Army days and Appalachia teenage recruits wedded and saddled two or three kids before their nineteenth birthday. Strange folk.

Cutiepie Margaret Garrett eventually came to her senses amidst Florida orange juice and sunshined beaches.
She needs slip on a bikini for another hubby-less photo shoot.

Dragon Gal's fastball has slowed some, and Slits looks like he'll homer his next bat.

 

[Farace]

Re the "Tercentenary," easy to get from context, but doubt I ever heard that word before. Pretty cool. Anything good in the 38 page insert?

My earliest memories are of my hometown’s tercentenary celebration in 1963. I was not quite three years old. Now I’m on the town’s historical society, and giving them some of my family’s mementos from then, including a newspaper photo of my grandmother and me in colonial costume.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Sawrry, ol' timeh," sidesteps Miss Kaplan, nearly colliding with Mr. Ginsburg as he emerges from Schreibstein's. "Zayt zhe moykl," shrugs Mr. Ginsburg, tucking his newly-purchased can of Half and Half into his vest pocket. "Yeh," nods Miss Kaplan. "Um, lissen, maybe you can help me. I'm lookin' fr'a friend'a mine, lives aroun'eeh." "Eh," nods Mr. Ginsburg. "I am living around here, most people I know. Who is?" "Fella name'a Joe," continues Miss Kaplan. "Joe Petrauskas. Good lookin' fella, looks like Jawn Gawrfiel'." "Oh yes," nods Mr. Ginsburg. "Yussel I know well. What do you wish to..." "Well," interrupts Miss Kaplan, "it's like t'is. I heeh he's havin' some trouble wit'..." She trails off, rotating her forefinger beside her right temple. "Nu?" frowns Mr. Ginsburg. "I seen'm," confides Miss Kaplan. "She was screamin' right inna pooeh man's face, an'eh eyes was poppin' right out'veh head. Imagine'at, a vet'ran!" "Hmm," replies Mr. Ginsburg, his frown deepening. "I must be mistaken," he respondes. "It is anotheh Yussel, not the Yussel I am knowing." "He's married, ain'ee?" insists Miss Kaplan. "A difference there is," declares Mr. Ginsburg, "between a yelling -- and not so often, I am saying -- and a screaming. Zeyt gezunt." With a touching of his hat brim, Mr. Ginsburg crosses 63rd Street and proceeds toward home, as Miss Kaplan watches thru narrowed eyes...)

("Well," sighs Sally, poking at her slice of Manor Cafeteria cheesecake, "it's takin' lawng enough." "T'ezza lotta papehwoik," shrugs Solly, sipping his coffee. "Dealin' witt'a bank's like dealin' witt'a Awrmy. T'ese t'ings take time." "Awr we sueh," challenges Sally, "Snodgrass ain't sold t'nobody else?" "I tawked t'wim awready," assures Solly. "I gotta letteh of intent, awl we need's t' money. Few moeh days an' it'll be inna--" "You pick whatcha wawnt,," comes a familiar voice, "an' it's awn me." Sally turns to see Sammy Schreibstein approaching the serving line, accompanied by a young woman in a New Utrecht High School sweater. "Missis P!" exclaims Sammy, as Sally ducks her face behind her handbag. "An' Sawrgean' Pincus!" "Hey," flushes Sally, as Solly bites his lip. "Um, Shoiley, t'is is Missis Petrauskas an' Sawrgean' Pincus. An'nis is -- uh -- Shoiley -- um -- Shoiley Blick. She's my -- um -- you know..." "Hiya, kids," nods Solly. "Yeh," mumbles Sally. Shirley whispers into Sammy's ear, her eyes flicking toward the Sergeant. "Don' say nu'tn," whispers Sammy. "He's self-conscious 'bout 'm." "Yeh," frowns Solly. "Well, um," exhales Sally, "I s'pose y'wondrin' what..." "Evrybody comes t' t' Maneh," chuckles Solly "M' I right? Heeh, you two getcha food, an' take t'is table. Sally's jus' goin' home, huh?" "Oh yeh," chokes Sally. "Yeh, I jus' --um -- was cravin' cheesecake, y'know? Yeh. Well, um, awright." She gathers her bag and with a quick "g'bye" skitters toward the door. "Busy life," shrugs Solly. "Y'know how it is....")

(Sally doesn't miss working at the yard-goods counter.)

(Tough luck, Dix. All those tomatoes, and no hamburger to put underneath.)

(All right, let's get this over with...)

(And if not, well, maybe Page Four pays for stories...)

("Depends on the work, huh?")

(When city people get stuck in a swamp, the shoes are the last thing to go...)

(NOW YOU"RE SORRY, NEW WORST DAD EVER!)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

And all the little Sprouses....

Next move...

What'd a poor polecat ever do to you??

Kid's gotta make a living.

If you're going to peddle influence, first you've gotta be influential.

"For all those checks I'll be endorsing at college!"

Well, he's certainly typical of something...

You can't hear anything when you don't listen.

Imagine being locked up in a plane for six hours with that guy.

The simplest solutions are the most difficult to find.

 

[Fading Fast]

"Missis P!" exclaims Sammy, as Sally ducks her face behind her handbag

You couldn't have a clandestine affair in this community if you wanted to.

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All right, let's get this over with...

This story line has been past its sell-by date for over a week now.

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And all the little Sprouses....

What is really going on here?

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"For all those checks I'll be endorsing at college!"

When I graduated high school, a Cross pen and pencil set was the fancy graduation gift you'd get if your relatives had any money.

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

Imagine being locked up in a plane for six hours with that guy.

Terry reached out to him; so Terry can't complain.

 

[Harp]

As said yesterday, Ian McLane needs to get himself plastered and properly hung out
to dry over, so he can start to figure this thing out.

Boro detectives searching for the late Jack Hylands' gold cigarette case in pawn shops
trying for a lead in the case is instructive. Hopefully, something develops.

I can see Slits getting squeezed betwixt Dragon Gal and de Plexus over this opium shipment.
The sharpest edge across Vengeance's sword is closest side to he that dares wield it.

 

[Fading Fast]

...,

I can see Slits getting squeezed betwixt Dragon Gal and de Plexus over this opium shipment.
The sharpest edge across Vengeance's sword is closest side to he that dares wield it.

I agree, Slits is the one that will lose in this confrontation. I'm still thinking (hoping) the DL is playing a deep game, but even if not, she's still got enough on the ball not to be bested by this joker.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("I guess it jus' goes t' show ya," sighs Morrie Schreibstein, leaning over his cigar counter, "t'at it's awrways t' ones y'leas' suspec'." "Yeh," nods Krause, considering his options. "Neh," headshakes Morrie. "T'em t'ree f'ra dime is no good. T'em two f'ra quawteh, 'n'ot'eh han', t'at's a good smoke." "Hm," hms Krause as he examines the wares. "Come in'nem glass tubes too," adds Morrie. "Jus' like a new toot'brush. Anyways, like I was sayin', somebody oughta tip Joe awff befoeh it's too late." "Eh?" questions Krause. "I mean," recalls Morrie, "I r'membeh way back when me'n Lil fois' got married, t'eh was t'is guy useteh come in'eeh. Choo'n gum salesman. You know t' type. Big flashy teet'. An'ee was floit'n wit' Lil, y'know? An'nis friend'a mine, Lou Pastehnak, he says t'me, 'Morrie, it's like t'is. You gotta cut t'is guy out befoeh'r'it's too late. An' I t'oght it oveh, like Lou said. He was a pretty smawrt guy, y'know. Soitehfied Public Accountan'. An' so I t'ought it oveh, an' d'cided I betteh do sump'n." "Ah," ahs Krause. "So t'is guy somes in, 'nis gum salesman. An'nee stawrts right in, floit'n wit' Lil." Morrie pauses to open the cigar case and pull out the two-for-a quarters. Krause sniffs, shakes his head, and points to his usual brand. Morrie shrugs, hands three cigars across the counter, and takes his dime. "So anyways," he resumes, ringing up the sale, "T'is guy comes in, an' I says to 'im, hey, have a drink awn me. Whattaya like, a phosphate? So I mix it up, an' I put in a lit'l extra special ingredient." Morrie rocks back on his feet, savoring the memory. "Know what I put inneh," he smirks. "A spoonfulla Sal Hepatica!" "Heh!" hehs Krause. "Yeh," laughs Morrie. "It's awrways t' ones ya leas' suspect....")

("When'nis is oveh," sighs Sally, "y'll neveh get me awna bus again." Alice sits in silence, lost in deep thought. "Hey," continues Sally, giving her friend a nudge. "Hey, what's eat'n you. You ain' said t'ree woids awl day. Awl day long at t' plant, you din' have nut'n'ta say 'bout nut'n. What's awn ya min'." "Nut'n," shrugs Alice. "It's jus' -- well, s'pose I -- well, OK, I read'is stawry in a magazine." "I can't stan'nem kinds a magzines," scoffs Sally. "Yeh," nods Alice. "An' was awlabout t'is gal t'at was -- steppin' out wit't'is guy was 'eh husban's bes' frien'." "Ehhh," gags Sally. "You shouldn'waste'cha time awnat junk." "But s'pose it did hap'n," insists Alice. "An' s'pose it was awl oveh t' neighbehood, ev'rbody's tawkin' about it, an' ev'rybody knows 'cept t' husban'." "Somebody otta tell'im," declares Sally. "T'chump." "Ah," exhales Alice. "Awrways t' ones," frowns Sally, "y'leas' suspec'....")

(The New Army, because nobody has to peel dried potatoes.)

(Can't we play the Phillies again?)

(Have you considered rassling?)

("Problems aren't solved by running away from them." Hey, what do you hear from Bill and the kids?)

(I wonder what's going on back at the office?)

(Believe in what you sell.)