The Era -- Day By Day

[Fading Fast]

"...I ain' no ol' lady wit' fat ankles." "Hmmmm," glares Ma. "Nut'n poissonal," adds Bink. "A goood remedy farrr sooch things," Ma scowls, "is haaaard waaaark.

Bink is a pip. BTW, Ma's response is right out of my father's playbook where almost any problem could be solved by me working at something that he wanted done. It's another of the many reasons why I tried to stay off his radar.

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

Hey Mary, your grandkids need you. Remember them?

"Hey, you, yeah, you with the big mouth, we're trying to put on a show up here." — MW

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"Pelham St. George Bissell 3rd?"

Darn good Page 4 name.

In the story above that one, that judge better know what he's doing as he missed several easy outs. Spring Lake is still very la-de-dah to this day.

 

[Harp]

Like that After 4 club booze and harem scarum organized crime ring.

Hotshot Chuckie is a crash n burn felled Cupid's deadly arrow.

 

[Fading Fast]

Like that After 4 club booze and harem scarum organized crime ring.
...

I love how hard they are trying to thread the legal needle.

 

[LizzieMaine]

"Why didn' I t'inka t'at?" -- Madam Blanche Dineen of Kingston Avenue.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Did'ee cawl yet?" pulses Rosa, as Shirley Blick arrives for work. "Didee? T'is mawrnin' befoeh ya lef' t' house? Maybe las' night b'foeh ya wenna bed?" "No," exhales Shirley. "Maybe he cawled," suggests Rosa, "while you was rid'n awna subway an' ya pop was awn'is way down'a t' awffice, an' ya ma -- was doin' whateveh she does? Maybe?" "No," repeats Shirley. "He's gonna cawl, t'ough?" insists Rosa. "Ain'ee?" Joe and Shirley exchange glances. "He won' cawl," sighs Joe as he fires up the grill, "while ya woikin'." "I s'pose," sighs Rosa, squaring her shoulders and rolling onto the lot...)

("Siddy an' Willie's comin' home from camp Satehday," sighs Alice. "Nobody fell outa no trees?" snickers Sally. "Jus'at perzen ivy," shrugs Alice. "An' Willie wrote a letteh says'ee gotta blood suckeh awn 'im inna lake. But t'ey dumped sawlt awn it an' it come awff." "Echh," echhs Sally. "You wouln' get me in no doity lake." "I'll be glad t'have 'em home," continues Alice. "I been get'n boehd. Sometimes I go up an' lissen t' t' radio wit' t' Ginsboigs, an' sometimes we play mah-jong. T'at'sa ol' Jewish game, y'know, mah-jong is. "Ah,' ahs Sally. "I t'ought you needed foeh people t' play t'at." "Mame G plays two hands at once," marvels Alice. "She's awrfl good. But we was t'inkin' -- maybe t'night, Leonoreh could come down an' sit in?" "Leonoreh," gapes Sally, "plays mah-jong?" "She's pretty good," nods Alice. "'Cep' ya gotta wawtch 'eh. Las' time she played wit' us, we caught 'eh rubbin'a faces'a t' tiles wit' 'eh fingehs when she was shufflin'm. "What???" baffles Sally. "Y'can feel what t'ey awr when ya do t'at," frowns Alice. "An' she c'n remembeh wheh ev'ry one is in ev'rybody's wawl." "Gawdawmighty," exhales Sally. "I wanna play wit' eh," declares Alice, "but look --yawr 'eh mot'eh. Tell'eh no moehr'a t'is two cents a pernt...")

("He was thinking of buying a baseball team, but -- well, you know...")

(Well that's not very nice of them.)

(Way ahead of your time, kid...)

(Somebody just read "The Hucksters.")

(The first week back is always the worst.)

(If you lose something in a theatre, and they offer to let you go thru the lost-and-found box, DON'T EVER DO IT.)

(AMERICA'S NUMBER ONE HERO DOG doesn't snitch.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

And he just happened to have an ax right there....

Well, at least he rang the bell first.

It's good to have supportive friends.

Look, we know you have to do these PSA strips now and then, but -- a rerun?

"You don't think Ralph Edwards is so good looking now, though, do you???"

It's good to keep careful notes.

Hawks are the angels who attend the throne of Molech.

It's always sad to say good bye to a temporary friend.

Hey Josie, don't take the bus home.

Willie would benefit immensely from cataract surgery.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And also...

Just sayin'.

 

[Fading Fast]

Somebody just read "The Hucksters."

Excellent book and excellent movie.

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

AMERICA'S NUMBER ONE HERO DOG doesn't snitch.

Somebody's just read some Sherlock Holmes.

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

Well, at least he rang the bell first.

Joseph Antonio Onil Landry. Really? If your son is going to grow up to be a thief – and not be good at it – try to give him a less ostentatious name.

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

Look, we know you have to do these PSA strips now and then, but -- a rerun?

So do you think Caniff gets some sort of special access to military bases or information or something in return for doing these?

 

[LizzieMaine]

Pretty sure he does. He also did a special strip during the war just for Army papers, which originally starred Burma -- until the News Syndicate cracked down. So he had her dye her hair black and changed her name to "Miss Lace."

 

[Harp]

This morning's newsprint mayhem elicits several lawful remarks.
First, those two Irish seventeen year olds who beat the elderly lady are emancipated minors, should be tried as adults; hopefully convicted, and sentenced max security house stay.
Officer Brown; whom killed a seventeen year old fleeing house intruder, used excessive deadly force in my opinion since the intrusion ended and no threat to house occupants therefore existed.

The ex Marine has rightful claim against bus company as he was attacked by driver without
cause who initiated verbal legal battery (1970s) and physical battery upon him.

Julie London's Perfidia is the best rendition.

Renegade runs in this evening's tenth at Saratoga, The Jim Dandy; however Commandment can
best him, and so might rail rider Chip Ho, race speed loner. Only four viables in the fiver Dandy, a joker
inserted as filler with Silent Tactic a probable fourth finisher. A lousy betting race which I would toss but TVG threw me a sawbuck for this weekend's frolic.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Awlits done'is summeh," sighs Joe, gazing out at the lot, "is rain." "Looks like it might let up," offers Shirley Blick, looking up from her inventory sheet. "Yeh," shrugs Joe, watching Rosa send up little flutters of puddle as she figure-eights around the lot. "In 1950. HEY ROSA!" he calls. "C'meeeh!" "Yeh?" replies the wheeled one, skidding to a stop before the window and wiping a damp string of hair from her forehead. "Look," Joe exhales, "we ain' gonna get no moeh business innis weat'eh -- you mize well knock awff 'n go home, get dried awff, rest up f' t'marreh." He glances over at Shirley. "You too, t'eh ain'no pernt. I c'n take cae'ra anyt'ing comes in till closin'." Rosa and Shirley exchange glances as Joe leans against the window, rubbing the side of his head. "Nah," pronounces Rosa. "No pernt in you get'n wet wait'n awn anybody might come." "And closing up goes faster when there's more than one person doing it," adds Shirley. Joe regards his employees. "Yeh," he nods, as the rain continues to fall....)

("Ye ought t' goo on that radio proogram," declares Uncle Frank. "Me?" scoffs Solly Pincus. "Go awna radio?" "Ya gotta face f'r it," mutters Bink, not sweeping the floor. "Yaaaar th' woon," continues Uncle Frank, "aaaahlways taalkin' 'boot pooblicity. What's moor pooblic than gooin' ann th' radio with Jinx Faaaaalkenbaaarg? She's a cellebrutty." "Meh," mehs Solly. "Now, I might go awna radio wit' t'at Dorot'y Kilgallen..." "Dooon't say that name in here," whips in Ma. "Naaaaaht ivven in jest. Ye nivvar knoo when Sally moit coom in th' door." "Oh," snorts Solly. "How 'bout Pegeen Fitzgeral'?" "She's a snob," sniffs Uncle Frank. "But Oi usetarr doo soom business with'aar hoosband....")

(Really? I hadn't heard a thing about it.)

(Coming events...)

(DAMMIT REISER!)

(It's a living.)

(Ew.)

(Well, if there's one thing they know how to do in this office it's shoot the bull...)

(What if Seaweed and BO Plenty walked into the same room? Would the universe annihilate itself, or would it just smell really bad?)

(Detective work is all about the dogged chasing of clues. "Dogged," hehe.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...


These Vanderbilts get around.

There is a fine line between determination and insanity...

Just what are you insinuating?

We must not outrage the hawk-gods.

"There's something so relaxing about the clippity-clop of hoof beats..."

You'll hear from King Farouk's lawyers in the morning.

Aw, I hope they invite her to the wedding.

"You didn't tell him about ME, did you?"

Best high-kick since Charlotte Greenwood.

Yeah, leave the poor cat alone.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Worker...

"Miss Cooper," frowns Mr. Sobol, noticing the folded tabloid on her desk. "What's this?" "Oh," replies the secretary. "I -- um -- found that on the subway. I thought you might be interested in page 10." "Hmm," hmms Mr. Sobol....

 

[Fading Fast]

Rosa and Shirley exchange glances as Joe leans against the window, rubbing the side of his head. "Nah," pronounces Rosa. "No pernt in you get'n wet wait'n awn anybody might come." "And closing up goes faster when there's more than one person doing it," adds Shirley. Joe regards his employees. "Yeh," he nods, as the rain continues to fall...

Loyalty is earned with decency and character — you can't buy it.

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

Detective work is all about the dogged chasing of clues. "Dogged," hehe.

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

There is a fine line between determination and insanity...

Indeed.

 

[Harp]

Ronald, Vanderbilt suitor, apparently specializes in wealthy women.

And I thought Boo Boo's signature citation rather sweet. Little runt is more imaginative than
he seems, and Charlie probably destined blind Cupid's broken heart.

Yesterday's James Dandified proved a low handle albeit profitable race, and later at Del Mar the Hirsch shook forth another barn burner. As last week was a lazy day times seven **** shoot for
handicapping, I left the Arlington Million at Colonial Downs and yesterday's other stakes alone.
Pocketed a mere eighty bucks with nobody other than myself to blame.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Hiya Joe," calls out an unmistakable foghorn rasp. "Hilda!" greets Joe, as the shambling figure in the loud print dress approaches the serving window. "Howza boy," Hilda grins. "Gimme a special an' a Coke. I been meanin' t' drawp by heeh, get a look atcha sitchiation, but I been s' busy." "Gettn't'wa lotta games?" queries Joe as he prepares the order. "Oh yeh," nods Hilda. "Pooeh Reiseh. Holy hell, whatta bawlplayeh, but izzee dumb." "Sal's gonna go out'eh an' yell at Rickey again," chuckles Joe. "Gonna tell'im t' hang up some mattresses awnem wawls." "Hey," agrees Hilda. "T'at ain'a bad ideeh." She gazes around the lot, where Rosa is practicing spins as Sammy metronomes the timing and Shirley takes detailed notes. "Whasawlat?" queries Hilda. "Ya gotchaself one'a t'em ballehreenies?" "She waits awna cawrs," explains Joe. "Rolls out onna skates wit' t' food. An' she spins aroun'eh t' try'n get cawrs t' pull in, y'see? We could use a few t'day, ya t' fois' customeh I had inna past houeh. But I guess it'll pick up once'a track op'ns." "Yeh," nods Hilda, taking a bite out of her sandwich. "But'choo do'wanna wait a whole mont'." "Whaaat?" gapes Joe. "Dinchoo know?" adds Hilda. "Track's closed till Labeh Day, whenney have t' Handicap." "WHAAAAAT?" blares Joe. "Awla ponies is upta Saratogeh t'is mont'," explains Hilda. "An' Atlan'ic City. I'm gonna be woikin' oveh t'eh myself, I jus' come out'eeh t'day t' pick up me paycheck." "Gaaaaawdawmighty," groans Joe, his forehead falling against the window frame.....)

("HIYA MA!" shouts Willie, threading thru the crowd at the Dixie Bus Terminal. "Willie!!" grins Alice, intercepting and embracing the boy. "OVEH HEEH, PAP!" Willie calls out over his shoulder, as Krause follows, a heavy duffel bag slung over his shoulder, and a faded Army campaign hat pulled low on his head. "Hiya, Coinel," laughs Alice, greeting her husband in the customary manner. "Hey," she chuckles. "Leemee get a look at who I'm smoochin'." She lifts off the headpiece to expose Krause's purple scalp, dotted with scrapes and bites. "Oh, moideh," she snorts. "Yeh," laughs Krause, as they make their way out of the terminal toward the BMT station and home....)

("Change ya life awright..." mutters Bink.)

(At least the bookies will be OK....)

(Page Four will love this.)

(William L. Shirer is on the phone to his lawyer right now.)

(Janie can afford to pay, she's even got a fur coat!)

(Before people are going to care about you beloved comedy relief characters getting married, they've got to be, you know, beloved.)

(Poor Trix. BETRAYED BY THE BETRAYER!)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

Ew.

They really ought to do a scientific study on him.

And doesn't he look festive.

Live and learn.

Zoot!

Settle down, Hortense.

Harold is making the most of his 52-20 Club checks, buying leisure outfits and slip-on canvas shoes.

Mr. Gray has been getting angry mail from hawks.

"Eh, you seen one big rock you seen'm all..."

What could happen?

 

[Fading Fast]

"Track's closed till Labeh Day, whenney have t' Handicap."

Seems like something Joe, Sally, or Solly should have known, but no way Shirley should have missed that detail. I'll give her that one for her age, but please let her know that we all expect more from her.

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

Janie can afford to pay, she's even got a fur coat!

Probably why she can't afford to pay; as you've noted, must be some nice sized payments on that bad boy.

BTW, "sweep out" is a job. The guy's got no city skills so he has to start somewhere. That said, I wonder if something he did as a cowboy can transfer to a city skill.

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

Ew.

Mighty fine man she chose. My dad would not have been hiring a lawyer for her, "she made her choice."

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

Live and learn.

And here's a crazy idea: pick your friends based on if you like them or not .

 

[Harp]

Okey-Doakey life sentences. The girl should be allowed severance as minor undue adverse influence; age emancipatory void despite prior consensual matrimony. She needs a good grandmotherly scolding.

Charlie's all decked out bore to butteplate. Dressed for his own funeral.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("You know Joe don' read t' papehs," declares Sally. "Leas' nut'n but t' funnies an'na basebawl." "You read th' papaaars," scowls Ma. "Yeh," admits Sally. "But not'tat hawrse racin' junk, I got no time f't'at. But SOMEBODY shoulda said sump'n. Like YOU." "Me??" gapes Ma, gripping the edge of the counter for stability. "Awlese bums comin' in'eeh," snorts Sally, "buyin'a Racin' Fawrm. You tellin' me not ONE'a t'em said nut'n 'bout awla racetracks bein' closed???" "Haaaaaarse playarrs doon't care noothin'boot whar th' haaarses are roonin'," dismisses Ma. "Joost that they ARE roonin'." Sally shoots her mother a look. "Howda YOU know t'at?" she frowns. "Whatta YOU know 'bout hawrse playehs?" "Oi -- ah -- seen a movin' pitchar," fumbles Ma. "R'mimbarr that woon with Sharrrley Temple? An' that woon dresses like Inky Quinlan? Adolphe what'sisname? Noo THAT was a foine, foine pitcharr." "Sometimes," glares Sally, "I wondeh about you." "They doon't make pitchars loike that noo marr," sighs Ma, vigorously polishing the fountain spouts....)

("Ya gonna get in trouble f' t'at," declares Willie. "Says you," snorts Lottie Schreibstein, carefully scrawling a goatee on a portrait of Philip J. Schupler, crudely pasted to the light pole on the corner of 18th and 63rd. "I t'inkee looks betteh wit' whiskehs." Lottie turns and grimaces at Willie. "I t'ink," she snickers, brandishing her stub of a grease pencil, "t'at YOU would look betteh wit' whiskehs!" "Oh YEAH???" retorts Willie for want of a better riposte. As Lottie advances on her victim, she suddenly stops short, as a tall, large-eared fellow steps out of the Manor Cafeteria, and pauses to light a Camel. "SAWRGEANT SOLLY!" bellows Lottie, forgetting that Willie walks the earth. "Dammitawltahell," mutters Solly, as he drops his cigarette down his shirt...)

(Losing to the REDS? What is this, 1940??)

("Run for your lives, everybody!" And you call yourself a strongman.)

(Ewmer should weawwy get a job sewwing insuwance.)

(Well, it could be worse. You could have seen the sign ten minutes later.)

(And you wouldn't believe the black eyes you see on Easter Tuesday.)

(Yes. It is. Enough IS enough.)

(Cheer up, Dolly. It's all over now.)

(Gawdawmighty, it really IS Shirer.)