The Era -- Day By Day

[Harp]

The Blossfield disappearance is disturbing. I recall seeing something on the Net a few years ago
about a New Jersey hiker fatally mauled wild bear. I didn't know NJ had bears or other deadly significant
sylvan predators.

Betty Morritt lacks standing with barren womb plea; which fact her lawyer should be cognizant.
Were she my client, more reasonable cause solicit would have led suit.

Brooklyn College. Wheelock was there. Had I been a Second World War vet, I'd enroll at Brooklyn and Columbia
for Wheelock's Latin advance classes with econ Columbanus. Stayed Columbia for grad and law then
Wall Street blue chip firm. Marriage. Westchester. Have it all worked out.

The nascent hedonist play here with Ian is a menage a t...s exacta splurge offer, obviously disgusting;
yet, not without plausible credence maternal past performance and daughter preliminary revealation considered ticket. Mea maxima culpa. I strongly suspect Chicago Irish Southside, Ian's already busted flush.

Terry doesn't play it cool, calm. collected cards held close vest, poker faced into the bargain.
And whatz this de Plexus known before the Fight jazz? Milt's tipping his hand. Later gators.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("I neveh set foot inna jernt like t'is in my life," sighs Sally, squinting into the smoky murk of the Old Reliable Tavern. "Hey," shrugs Solly Pincus. "Yawr t' one din'wanna meet anywhez inna neighbehood." "People been tawkin'," frowns Sally. "An' I don' like what'eh sayin'." "Well, you ain' gonna see nobody ya know innis place," promises Solly. "Alice useta come in'eeh sometimes," notes Sally. "When she was goin' out wit' Koiby Higbe." "Well, nevehmin'at," dismisses Solly. "Wait, Koiby Higbe? Awna Dodgehs?" "Lawng stawry," sighs Sally. "She slugged 'im wit' a pot roast. But unlike SOME people, I don' gossip." "Ah," ahs Solly. "Annnnyways, heeh's s'moeh papehs t'look oveh. Contrack b'tween Jacleen En'nehprises an' Joe Petrauskas. We need t' be ready whenna deal wit' Snodgrass is closed. Which remines me. Gelman cawled me t'day, wants t'know if we c'n do t' closin' awn Friday. C'n you get awffa woik?" "T'eh askin' me questions," frowns Sally. "Alla absentee'in I been doin'. I keep tellin'm Leonoreh's got apperntments, but I can't keep t'at up f'reveh. An' I do'wanna lose my jawb." "Jus'is one las' time," promises Solly. '10 AM Friday, be in ya city clo'es, meet me at t' corneh'a Montague an' Fulton." "Well as I live an' breat'e!" interrupts a beery gentleman sauntering over from the bar. "Solly Pincus!" Solly looks up as Sally hides her face behind her palm. 'R'membeh me?" continues the interloper? "Hawrvey Stopak? We useta woik t'getteh onna brine tanks at Crown Pickle!" '"Awwwww yeh," sighs Solly, not relishing the memory. "Howya been?" "Aw, can't c'mplain," snorts Harvey. "I done'anuffa t'at inna Awrmy! HAW HAW! Hey, Sol, r'membeh t'at bohunk wit' t' coily haieh, useta be a skimmeh out t' Crown? An'nat time ya pusht'im inna vat! HAW! Whatta chummp!" "Yeh,' scowls Solly. "Hey," continues Harvey. "I ain' metcha goilfrien'. Din' catcha name, honey..." "I din' t'row it," glares Sally. "Oooooooh," inhales Harvey in mock terror. "Hey Sol, you gotcha some t'mateh heeh," he burbles. "Bet she's a lookeh when y'get t' glasses awff, but youuuuuu know bette'n I do...." "T'at's ENOUGH!" bellows Sally, her Irish rising. "Awright," snaps Solly, glaring murder at Mr. Stopak. "Awnya way." "Huh," scoffs Harvey as he retreats. "Look whooza big shawt now..." "Fathead," growls Sally. "Anyways," sighs Solly....)

("Oi doon't b'lieve a warrrd of it," declares Uncle Frank. "Ye been sayin' that since yestarrday," snaps Ma. "Boot it doon' change noothin'. Ye harrrd what th' Chestarrr woman said." "Ruuuumors an' gossip," snips Uncle Frank, "fit oonly faaaar an' oold washarrwoman." "If yaaar lookin' farr trooble, Francis Xavier Leary," glares Ma, "yaaaar ooonly two stops away. An' that daughtaaaar 'a moine is on th' express." "Yarrrr naaaht gooin' t' intarfere..." insists Uncle Frank. "Oi am NOT," agrees Ma. "Oi'm goin' t' tell 'ar t' stop roit now what she's doin' aaaar Oi'm goin' t' tell Joseph ivvry thing Oi know. That is NOT intarrrferin', that's pootin' a stop." "Ah," sighs Uncle Frank. "Oi moosta been misinfaaaarmed...")

("It wouldn't be so bad, except every hour on the hour I have to sing the jingle...")

(Don't get too comfortable, Cookie -- you're 34. Ask Camilli about that.)

(Better turn it over to the UN.)

(While you're at it, get an ash tray.)

(Do you REALLY want to know?)

(Dogs Going Their Own Way.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

"Lassie?" "Candy?" Aren't there any models named "Ethel?"

Do they even have poolrooms in Westchester?

"Well, my ma don' like me stayin' out late!"

You gotta give him credit for knowing how to ad-lib.

"Fortunately land values here are very low and my briefcase is very large."

Ever notice how Una always plays these kinds of parts?

"Let me put it another way. Your partner's a little sh*t."

Reputation is the driving force in the success of any enterprise.

They grow up so fast.

And you can see where Kayo gets it from.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And also...

This is what they meant when they said he fights for the "American Way."

And in the Worker...

Bink picked a good time to retire.

 

[Fading Fast]

"Solly Pincus!" Solly looks up as Sally hides her face behind her palm. 'R'membeh me?"

It almost never fails. I've never cheated/had an affair/etc., but I have looked for work while I have a job and wanted to be discreet, but there is no place that is safe if you don't want any rumors.

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

"Lassie?" "Candy?" Aren't there any models named "Ethel?"

"She and Harry spent numerous weekend at the ranch."

Yet not one word about a chaperone.

Re the betting rake of 15% of every dollar: the state take 11% and race track 4%. Once again, as with lotteries, the state ends up being the biggest and piggiest bookie.

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

You gotta give him credit for knowing how to ad-lib.

Agreed. He's got more game than I thought he had.

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

This is what they meant when they said he fights for the "American Way."

So, obviously, neither of our papers carry Superman, but I assume he's a daily strip too?

 

[LizzieMaine]

So, obviously, neither of our papers carry Superman, but I assume he's a daily strip too?

Yep, very much so. His New York outlet is the Daily Mirror, the Hearst tabloid rival to the News. The Mirror is also Walter Winchell's home paper, so there's two good reasons to pick it up and take a glance when you find it under your seat on the subway.

 

[Harp]

I recall Walter Winchell narrated The Untouchables television series.

Just skimmed the papers this morning but noted the Blossfeld tragic find. Afraid that such would prove reason.

Don't understand New York off track book resistance. The Crestwood, Illinois OTB always collects house and Cook County percentage poker along with track takeout from my ticket winnings.

Missed Mary Worth and the thorne caught between two lovely roses.
Terrence fixed his *** plenty when he invited Slits to fly the friendly skies.

 

[Fading Fast]

...

Don't understand New York off track book resistance. The Crestwood, Illinois OTB always collects house and Cook County percentage poker along with track takeout from my ticket winnings.
...

It was only in the past two decades, but NY shut down OTB – now get this – because it wasn't profitable. The betting "parlors" looked like homeless shelters (no money spent on them), the systems were antiquated, but there was so much stealing, and so many union payoff jobs that it was losing money.

When you can't make money on a monopolistic gambling enterprise that rakes (I think it was 17, but might have been 19 cents of every dollar,) in easy money, you have proven the disfunction of the state government.

My greatest dream is to come back as a slot or parimutuel machine and just let people hand me money all day long and I'll hand them less back. Greatest business model of all time and NY State couldn't keep it open.

 

[Harp]

The Crestwood, IL facility is attractive with a horse stable frontage motif parked at back lot inside a fairly large shopping mall. Illinois, a basically corrupt state led by democrats, ruled out internet horse play unless first registered at a casino or OTB; so state taxes could be assessed. However, across linear economic model the OTBs are profitable correctly run businesses, which offer sports gambling and national track wager. It wasn't until Covid came around that the Springfield legislature relaxed signup requirements, but when I returned to Crestwood afterwards, all the old clerical crew were long gone, and the internet had grabbed irreversible chunk out of the off track site traffic. I now use the net exclusively for hosses so the trend is set. OTBs are on the way out unless further enhancement such as slots or video gaming is brought in. Taverns here are leading the pin ball gaming crowd to compete with off track sites.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And better late then never, unless you happen to be Selene, today's Mary Worth---

 

[Harp]

Ian rolled snake eyes on the comer toss and c....d out. Selene leads him towards doorway exit
and he tries a pathetic verbal rebuy back into the game. Face it McLane, you're o-v-e-r a-n-d o-u-t.
Crashed and burned. And with the kid no less dumbazz. A slip between tongue and lip can cause a long hard fall.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("So Oi was thinkin', lad," proposes Uncle Frank, "aboot t'noit. D'ye have plans?" "Me'n Sal was gonna go downstaiehs," shrugs Joe, "an' lissen t' t' fight wit' t' Ginsboigs an' t' Krauses. Misteh Ginsboig's a Joe Louis man, y'know. When Louis beat Schmelin', y'know, he run inta t' streat beat'n a dishpan till Missis Nucci t'rew a pail'a wawteh out'a windeh at'im. Nobody slep' t'at night." "Hoo woul'jee like," continues Uncle Frank, "t'go with me oopta th' Stadium an' SEE th' foit?" He produces an envelope and flourishes it before his son-in-law's nose. "Two tickets," he announces. "In th' mezzanine, moind ye!" "Ya kidd'n!" gapes Joe. "Surrrrre as ye livin'," declares Uncle Frank. "Oi thought since you an' me haaaardly ivvar get t' spend any toime t'getthar, it moit be a chance to -- you knooow -- have a plisant eeevenin' oot. Maybe do soom taaalkin' aloong th' way, aboot -- ah -- things." "Ah," ahs Joe. "Y'see, me boy," Uncle Frank concludes, "Oi alllways thought'a'ye as th' son Oi nivvar had." "Y'got," points out Joe, "two sons. Plus Mickey." "Loike Oi said..." shrugs Uncle Frank. "Yeh," nods Joe. "I t'ink I could go, Sal woul'n min'. But -- um -- heeh, lemme lookit t'em tickets fois'." "Hm," hms Uncle Frank, handing them over. Joe extracts the ducats, and, holding them up to the light, gives them a careful examination. "It's L-O-U-I-S, right?" he quizzes. "Not L-E-W-I-S?" "W-w-w-w-why, Oi..." Uncle Frank stutters. "Jus' kidd'n," chuckles Joe....)

("Huh," sniffs Alice, sensing an aroma that isn't quite right. "Sal," she continues. "Did you take up smokin'?" "You know I can't stan'nem t'ings," growls Sally. "Bad enough Joe chews'at stuff." "Huh," repeats Alice, sniffing at her friend's jacket. "Ya coat smells like'n ashtray." She falls silent for a moment, as Sally sniffs at her own sleeve and makes a face. "T'at ain' me," she denies. "It'sat guy up ahead'eh, readn'a Heral' Tribune. Prob'ly smokes'em fancy cigarettes wit' t' cawrk tips." "Sometimes," shrugs Alice, "y'can pick up'at smell jus' goin' inna place. I r'membeh when I was goin' wit' Hig, we'd go innat jernt, t' Ol' Reliable..." "I'm gonna go," growls Sally, "an' sit oveh t'eh...")

("A beautiful Quonset hut in a potato field for two...")

(Billy, a heavyweight? Is he going to fight with his overcoat on? And a pair of combat boots?)

(Five bucks, plus a nickel carfare to the Bronx...)

("Fantastic nonsense? You want the Page Four desk, down the hall...")

(We can't all be Ann Blyth.)

("Don't worry, we don't have the Sullivan Law out here...")

(Um.)

(AMERICA'S NUMBER ONE BLIND OPTIMIST.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

"Oi got noo toime t'taaalk to noo noospapaarmen," snaps Ma into the phone. "Now d'ye want t'poot'chee cash doon aaahn th' foit aaar not?"

They don't have a television set at the Old Reliable. Yet.

When you're a baby, you have the luxury of setting your own schedule.

Wheels within wheels...

It's a living.

"I have a friend who's really good with snakes."

The ALP would never be this dumb.

You know, the Sarge would make a good partner.

There are certain lines of work that just aren't a good fit.

Life is filled with petty details.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Worker...

Louis has thirty pounds on him. I mean, seriously....

 

[Fading Fast]

Billy, a heavyweight? Is he going to fight with his overcoat on? And a pair of combat boots?

It's always been the cross to bear of the light heavyweight.

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

Five bucks, plus a nickel carfare to the Bronx...

The (always questionable) inflation calculator says that's $85 today. That ticket would be at least $850 in NYC today – did you see the thousands of dollars nosebleed seats were going for the Knicks games?

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

"Fantastic nonsense? You want the Page Four desk, down the hall..."

Nah, Page Four is too busy covering "Mary Worth."

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

"Did you notice that, too?"
"I said 'revenge."
"Oh, of course, that's what I meant."

BTW, Binnie didn't hold back, "Obligated to marry you...Wrinkles that make-up can't hide much longer...shopworn heart." "Ouch, daughter."

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

It's all so corrupt.

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

They don't have a television set at the Old Reliable. Yet.

"I guess Sally and Solly will have to find some other way to entertain themselves."

You see, this is how rumors get started.

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

Louis has thirty pounds on him. I mean, seriously....

And I'll close where I started: That's always been the cross to bear of the light heavyweight.

 

[LizzieMaine]

Meanwhile in 2026, today's Eagle offers the latest in a series of profiles proving that Brooklyn will never forget its Dodgers. You have read in Tommy Holmes's column mentions of "Uncle Robbie" and his long reign as Dodger manager -- here's a fine piece by one of Tommy's modern-day successors on the life and times of one of the oddest managers the game has ever known -- https://brooklyneagle.com/396501/wi...-brooklyn-dodger-baseball-delightfully-weird/

The Knicks parade -- and congratulations, by the way -- made me think of the Dodger parade in 1941. The Thrill That Comes Once In A Lifetime...

 

[Fading Fast]

Meanwhile in 2026, today's Eagle offers the latest in a series of profiles proving that Brooklyn will never forget its Dodgers. You have read in Tommy Holmes's column mentions of "Uncle Robbie" and his long reign as Dodger manager -- here's a fine piece by one of Tommy's modern-day successors on the life and times of one of the oddest managers the game has ever known -- https://brooklyneagle.com/396501/wi...-brooklyn-dodger-baseball-delightfully-weird/

The Knicks parade -- and congratulations, by the way -- made me think of the Dodger parade in 1941. The Thrill That Comes Once In A Lifetime...

Dropped from 525 feet, I'm surprised it didn't kill him or at least break some bones.