The Era -- Day By Day

"A radio tube!" he announces. "Somebody musta BURIED it 'eeh! Maybe SPIES!" "Yeh," eyerolls Alice, looking up at the second-floor window of the Petrauskas kitchen. "T'at mus' be it..."



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I'm sensing a Venn diagram overlap between the last two items. Also, I know today we're not allowed to notice a difference between the sexes unless it is one that is favorable to women, but the pocketbook change thing was a chronic complaint back in the days when change was still used all the time, which the change purse was supposed to solve, but all that really happened was the woman dug around in her purse looking for the change purse instead of for the change. Then the change purse came out and the change had to be picked out amidst the stamps, paperclips and other sundry items in the "change" purse.

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Well, the fat's in the fire for Annie. So to speak.

Grab Sandy, drop the coat at the police station with a note, and skip town.

("Eight hunnet'n'ninety gran' shawrt," mutters Sally, slapping the paper on her lap. "What is WRAWNG wit' people? Ev'rybody t'inks t'wawr is awready oveh an'neh savin' up t'buy a bungalow on Lawng Islan' a' sump'n. Awlese people onnis cawr -- lookit'at dame oveh t'eh by t'doeh. She didn' get t'at hat at Namm's. Nooooooooo, nawt heh nibs. She gawt't'at hat at Oppenheim-Cawlins awr Loesehs a' Mawrtin's a' one'a T'EM places. But how much you t'ink she give t''Red Crawss, huh?" "Go ask 'eh," shrugs Alice, focusing her gaze on a Swan Soap ad upon which someone has scratched a goatee on a picture of Gracie Allen. "No," nos Sally, "I ain' gonna do t'at. An' ya know why? 'Cause I'm SANE." "Y'awr?" questions Alice. "I AM," insists Sally. "Me'n Docteh Levine tawked it oveh. I'm so sane I can't cope wit' awl t' insanity inna woil' aroun' me. An' jus' t'PROVE how sane I am, I am NOT gonna go oveh t'eh an' tellat dame we'h t'get awff." "She awready did," observes Alice. "Jus' got awff at DeKalb Aveneh." "Figyehs,"fumes Sally. "An' jus' t'show ya how sane I am, I ain' gonna say nut'n about dames 'at get awff at DeKalb Aveneh." "I got awff at DeKalb Aveneh one time," shrug Alice. "Yawr diff'rn't," frowns Sally. "So're you," sighs Alice.)


("It's good farr business too," affirms Ma. ""As laaang as we doon't get anoothar visit from Mistarr Durocharr's friends," notes Uncle Frank, sipping his two-cents-plain. "Oi'll nivarr farrget that," eyerolls Ma. "Sally an' that fool Alice Dooley sendin'im anaaanymoos telegrams but usin' THIS STORE farr th'address." "Oh, it tarrned oot all roit," shrug Uncle Frank. "An' oof carrse, Mistarr Durocharr's a big radio star now, Oi'm sure he doesn't assoociate with loow charactarss no marr. Oi mean, aside from caaamedians." "Gaaahd f'bid," nods Ma.)


(Of course, I'd settle for a new pair of shoes.)


(Don't be surprised that Sukey is ready to play ball at 42. I knew him when he was in his 80s, and he still could have caught at least an inning or two...)


("Hey," heys Bink Scanlan between snaps of her gum. "Tell me sump'n." "Very well," nods Inky Quinlan. "I should like very much to conclude our evening's toil and leave this dismal warehouse, but to accomplish this I shall require from you less conversation and more -- ah -- perspiration." "T'at ain' what I meant," snickers Bink, lackadasically sliding two bottles into a crate. "Tell me t'is -- d'you eveh go out t'movies?" "Motion pictures are bad for the vision," sniffs Inky, "and are much to be avoided by an artisan in my line of endeavor." "T'at ain' what I meant," dismisses Bink. "What I'm askin' is d'you eveh go out t'movies --wit' goils?" "Ah," ahs Inky. "I would suggest that this is a matter best not..." "Ya fathead," snorts Bink. "What I'm askin' is do YOU wanna go out t'wa movie wit' ME?" "Oh my," inhales Inky. "I fear you have - ah - misinterpreted.." "T'ey got t'at Meet Me In St. Louis t'ing at Loew's Met," continues Bink. "But ya know, a goil goin' in a pitcheh show alone, people notice ya. I don' like t'be noticed." "But, ah," stammers Inky, "the difference in our ages..." "Settle down, Pop," guffaws Bink. "I ain' askin' ya awn a DATE, I wawnna go t'eh an' -- you know -- do a lit'l business." "Uh.." uhs Inky, completely nonplussed. Bink rolls her eyes, gives Inky a swift hip, extracts his wallet from his pocket and flips it back to him with a derisive snort. "You know," she laughs. "BUSINESS." "Ohhhh," exhales Inky. "That is, of course, a different matter. But I -- POP????")


"Trim bims with the broad brims?"


(I dunno, I hear Michigan CIty, Indiana is a wide-open town...)


(You aren't wearing makeup? You mean those lashes are real???)


(You won't be able to see any of it but that's the price we must pay for beauty..)


(Don't be too impressed, he didn't even comb his hair. And he bought that suit off a retired headwaiter.)

And in the Daily News...


"All right, which one of you clowns threw in all these MacArthur buttons???"


"The Earth's Outstanding Gorilla Personalities!" Hmph, have they been guest panelists yet on "Information Please?"


"It's where I keep my heroin!"


Ten silver dollars! Could it be Doctor I. Q.???


"At last! Free help!" -- Phyllis.


She won't take it well...


"Who has time? I just signed up for the square-dancing class!"


A kid just can't have any fun.


"Why, I remember when he used to hide under my front porch!"


Start packing, kid.

"I ain' gonna do t'at. An' ya know why? 'Cause I'm SANE." "Y'awr?" questions Alice.



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"Sally an' that fool Alice Dooley sendin'im anaaanymoos telegrams but usin' THIS STORE farr th'address."

Sometimes I forget all the crazy stuff Sally's done. My father would have disowned her the minute the law allowed.

"Daughter? What Daughter? What are you talking about? I don't have a daughter."

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"Hey," heys Bink Scanlan between snaps of her gum. "Tell me sump'n." "Very well," nods Inky Quinlan. "I should like very much to conclude our evening's toil and leave this dismal warehouse, but to accomplish this I shall require from you less conversation and more -- ah -- perspiration." "T'at ain' what I meant," snickers Bink, lackadasically sliding two bottles into a crate. "Tell me t'is -- d'you eveh go out t'movies?" "Motion pictures are bad for the vision," sniffs Inky, "and are much to be avoided by an artisan in my line of endeavor." "T'at ain' what I meant," dismisses Bink. "What I'm askin' is d'you eveh go out t'movies --wit' goils?" "Ah," ahs Inky. "I would suggest that this is a matter best not..." "Ya fathead," snorts Bink. "What I'm askin' is do YOU wanna go out t'wa movie wit' ME?" "Oh my," inhales Inky. "I fear you have - ah - misinterpreted.." "T'ey got t'at Meet Me In St. Louis t'ing at Loew's Met," continues Bink. "But ya know, a goil goin' in a pitcheh show alone, people notice ya. I don' like t'be noticed." "But, ah," stammers Inky, "the difference in our ages..." "Settle down, Pop," guffaws Bink. "I ain' askin' ya awn a DATE, I wawnna go t'eh an' -- you know -- do a lit'l business." "Uh.." uhs Inky, completely nonplussed. Bink rolls her eyes, gives Inky a swift hip, extracts his wallet from his pocket and flips it back to him with a derisive snort. "You know," she laughs. "BUSINESS." "Ohhhh," exhales Inky. "That is, of course, a different matter. But I -- POP????"

Oy.

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In 1945, Easter falls on April 1, but in 2025 it falls on April 20. I get that they are trying to align to a Sunday, but somehow you would think it would be within seven days of itself each year.

The flowered hat girl looks like Ella Raines.

Fading Fast said:

"I ain' gonna do t'at. An' ya know why? 'Cause I'm SANE." "Y'awr?" questions Alice.



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"Sally an' that fool Alice Dooley sendin'im anaaanymoos telegrams but usin' THIS STORE farr th'address."

Sometimes I forget all the crazy stuff Sally's done. My father would have disowned her the minute the law allowed.

"Daughter? What Daughter? What are you talking about? I don't have a daughter."

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"Hey," heys Bink Scanlan between snaps of her gum. "Tell me sump'n." "Very well," nods Inky Quinlan. "I should like very much to conclude our evening's toil and leave this dismal warehouse, but to accomplish this I shall require from you less conversation and more -- ah -- perspiration." "T'at ain' what I meant," snickers Bink, lackadasically sliding two bottles into a crate. "Tell me t'is -- d'you eveh go out t'movies?" "Motion pictures are bad for the vision," sniffs Inky, "and are much to be avoided by an artisan in my line of endeavor." "T'at ain' what I meant," dismisses Bink. "What I'm askin' is d'you eveh go out t'movies --wit' goils?" "Ah," ahs Inky. "I would suggest that this is a matter best not..." "Ya fathead," snorts Bink. "What I'm askin' is do YOU wanna go out t'wa movie wit' ME?" "Oh my," inhales Inky. "I fear you have - ah - misinterpreted.." "T'ey got t'at Meet Me In St. Louis t'ing at Loew's Met," continues Bink. "But ya know, a goil goin' in a pitcheh show alone, people notice ya. I don' like t'be noticed." "But, ah," stammers Inky, "the difference in our ages..." "Settle down, Pop," guffaws Bink. "I ain' askin' ya awn a DATE, I wawnna go t'eh an' -- you know -- do a lit'l business." "Uh.." uhs Inky, completely nonplussed. Bink rolls her eyes, gives Inky a swift hip, extracts his wallet from his pocket and flips it back to him with a derisive snort. "You know," she laughs. "BUSINESS." "Ohhhh," exhales Inky. "That is, of course, a different matter. But I -- POP????"

Oy.

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View attachment 691981

In 1945, Easter falls on April 1, but in 2025 it falls on April 20. I get that they are trying to align to a Sunday, but somehow you would think it would be within seven days of itself each year.

The flowered hat girl looks like Ella Raines.
View attachment 691983

Click to expand...

Easter is "The Sunday after the first full moon after spring equinox." Unless that full moon is immediately after equinox, in what case easter is one month later... Dunno why but that always amuses me. That date was originally settled in the 6th century, but there has been some tweaking due to calender changes, Julian to Gregorian, etc.

("Y'know what I done?" announces Sally, looking immensely pleased with herself. "Uh oh," replies Alice. "Does ya ma know? Lissen, don' say nut'n oveh t'eh, an' I can getcha out'vit. Neveh mind how, but..." "Whattaya tawkin' about?" tosses Sally. "I'll tell ya what I done. I sen' eighty dollehs to t' Red Crawss. Money weh ya mout' is, t'at's me." "Eighty bucks!" gapes Alice. "At'sa lotta kale! We'h you gett'n'at kinda money?" "Joe's allawtmen' check," explains Sally. "Eighty bucks. Ev'rymont' t'eh Awrmy sen's me a check f'eighty bucks. T'ey pay Joe sixty six dollehs a mont' wages, deduc' 22 outa t'at, an'ney sen' me eighty. Go figyeh. Ain' like me'n Leonoreh's stawrvin' t'deat', me woikin'a plant an' awl, so I been putt'n it inna bank awr buyin' bonds wit'it. Awmos' a yeeh now, eighty bucks a mont'. But t'is mont' I figyeh -- well, Red Bawrbeh says t' Red Crawss needs it. An'nat's a man you can TRUS', y'know? Ain' many men inna woil y'can trus' but Red Bawrbeh y'can trus'. When he said t'eat Wheaties, I done it. An'ney was good. When he said to use Lifebuoy, I used it. Couldn' smell nut'n. When he said t'use Mobilgas, well, I ain' got no cawr, but I stopped innat fillin' station oncet, crawst fr'm Ebbets Feel 'eh, an' used'a terlet. Cleanes' fillin' station terlet I was eveh in. So when Red Bawrbeh says t'Red Crawss needs my money, he ain' gotta ask twice. Sen'im eighty bucks. His woid's good'nough f'me.' Alice absorbs all this with nod. "Hey Sal," she finally ventures. "Red Bawrbeh says y'otta smoke Old Golds. You eveh smoke'n Old Gold?" "Don' be ridiculous," scoffs Sally. "T'em t'ings awr disgustin'!" "Ah," nods Alice...)


("Thaaar now," thunders Ma. "THAT"s th' racket they need t' roon down, thim droog pooshars an' oopium dens an' all sooch depradations! Throoo th' book at THIM an' leave haaanset bookmakarrrs alone." "A taaaaarible racket," agrees Uncle Frank, "an' thim that engages in it gaaaht a way a' foindin thimselves takin' a laaaang coold baath, if ye knoo what Oi mean." "Ye know, donchee," frowns Ma, "that Hops Gaffney was troiflin' in that saaarta business. Looky farr him we roon 'im oota town befaaar his sinfool ways caaaught ooop with 'im." "Oi don't think we'll hearr froom th' Hoppar again," chuckles Uncle Frank. "He'll be a guest oov th' authorities farr a good long toime aaah that coonterfietin' rap we stook 'im with. An' that Marie Belasco too." Ma glances up at Mickey's picture behind the counter. "Warrr goin' t' have a laaaht t' explain t'Michael when 'ee gets home," she notes. "Aboot aaahl this. And th' boy." "You leave Mickey to me," reassures Uncle Frank. "A war hero coomin' hoom t'th bosom oov'is loovin' family won't waaant noo trooble, and don'chee waarry noon, Oi'll see tharr ain't any." "If ye say soo," sighs Ma...)


("Well, if you INSIST..." -- R. Moses.)


("I dunno, Pop -- look what just happened to Snake Tumblin, and he's just a captain!")


(Careful Leo -- watch your head!)


(Well, at least it's not a beret...)


(There's one in every office.)


(Mr. Stamm's understanding of anatomy is not his strongest point.)


(And here we go AGAIN.)


(Haven't you ever heard of EMOTIONAL poverty?)

And in the Daily News...


Ahhhh, Nancy Oakes de Marigny. No fame more fleeting than Page Four fame.


Likewise.


Did you know that before Tracy joined the force, he studied for two years under Stanislavski at the Moscow Art?


"To think we bathed you in that cast-iron sink. Until you were five!"


Judging from Helen's eyes, she may already be a customer.


And from there it's just a short step to Miss Rheingold 1946!


"If anyone wishes to see me, I shall be IN the basement. Please bring me a spade."


"Besides, we don't want any trouble with Jimmy Byrnes!"


I suppose there isn't any chance Snake managed to crawl out of the wreck and is lurking in a tree ready to pounce...


See, when I tried to do this, the plaster fell on ME.

And also..


"Tell me, sir, have you lost weight?"

And finally...


There's a New World Coming...

... haaanset bookmakarrrs ...

Said without an ounce of irony. Just perfect.

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"Warrr goin' t' have a laaaht t' explain t'Michael when 'ee gets home," she notes. "Aboot aaahl this. And th' boy." "You leave Mickey to me," reassures Uncle Frank. "A war hero coomin' hoom t'th bosom oov'is loovin' family won't waaant noo trooble, and don'chee waarry noon, Oi'll see tharr ain't any." "If ye say soo," sighs Ma...

I hope Frank has a good plan for this one, as some of his plans are good and some are total garbage.

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Why now? And wow, talk about dragging up an old memory of a heavily covered and quite interesting Page Four-perfect case.

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I suppose there isn't any chance Snake managed to crawl out of the wreck and is lurking in a tree ready to pounce...

This make at least the second time Hu Shee has saved Terry's life and all the girl wants in return are her socks rotated a few times. I think the boy owes her.

("Faaaarteen hoondred poondsa meat aaahn th' hoof!" roars Uncle Frank into the telephone. "An' ye mean t'tell me ye caaaan't get NOON o'vit?" Uncle Frank is not satisfied with the reply, and slams the receiver back onto its hook, with perhaps more force than necessary. "Oi doon't know whoy ye'd think that bloody spalpeen Shaughnessy would get any oovit," scoffs Ma. "Naaht Shaugnessy," frowns Uncle Frank. "Doyle. Oi thaaat coppars lookt oot far each oothar. An' Oi thaat Oi was payin' THAT coppar t'look oot farr OOS!" "Oi keep tellin ye," scowls Ma. "Ye can't troost noobody. Least'oov'all him." "Oi woondar," mutters Uncle Frank, gnawing his lip. "Joe's froom Williamsburg. Oi woondar if tharr's anyboody oop thaaar who'd waaana do a favor farr th' fam'ly oova warr hero, an' p'raps see aboot leavin' that slaaaaghtarhoose gate oopen again..." "Ye know any cooboys?" snickers Ma. "Farrst things farrst," sighs Uncle Frank. )


("I'm worried about Mrs. G," sighs Alice. "She ain't doin' too good, y'know, she gets real tiehd now. I offehed t'help'eh wit' t' cookin', y'know, f' t' Sedeh, but I guess, y'know, me bein' Irish an' awl, I guess t'at wouldn' be kosheh. I guess 'eh daughteh, t'at Mrs. Levitz t'eh, t'one hiehed me t'help'm out, I guess she's gonna come in fr'm Gawrden City. I was kin'a disappern'ed, I mean, I can make a pretty good matzeh-bawl soup, y'know." "Yeh," nods Sally. "You gimme some a t'at one time, remembeh? Lasted me a coupla nights." "T'eh gett'n ol'," reflects Alice. "I mean, lawng's I known'm t'ey been old, but lately, t'eh really gett'n old. Y'know?" "Yeh," nods Sally. "None'vus gett'n any youngeh." "It's t'wawr," notes Alice. "Y'know, Misteh'r'n Mrs. G, t'ey -- got fam'ly t'ey ain' hoid fr'm. Oveh t'eh." Sally nods a silent acknowledgement, gazing contemplatively out the window as the train rolls on toward home....)


(Coming events....)


(These 18-year-old draftees are looking a bit shopworn.)


("Must beat his .164 batting average of last year." Well, we can only hope.)

("A yen for ladies' hats?" Hey, whatever gets you thru the night.)


(I'm shocked.)


(Aren't you cold?)


("Wee.")

(Well, it didn't look like much of a party anyway.)

And in the Daily News...


"...wandering servicemen could be accommodated." Um, define "accommodated."


Shooting craps in Valley Stream? Talk about "losing your shirt!"


Hey, isn't this the same store where they shot "Double Indemnity?"


Why did it have to be Snake and not this clod?


Somewhere north of Strasbourg, Joe clenches his eyes, squeezes the sides of his head, and tries to picture home...


Well, at least he isn't wearing the beret.


You really shoulda stuck to driving the cab.


"A roast? Wow, they really DO need to put a new lock on that slaughterhouse."


Good idea wearing gloves, we certainly wouldn't want to leave fingerprints.


You know, plaster can react exothermically on prolonged contact with skin and cause some pretty painful burns. NOT SO FUNNY NOW IS IT???

And finally...


"MOMMY?? You never told me, Kay!" "There's a lot of things I never told you, Mae!"

I offehed t'help'eh wit' t' cookin', y'know, f' t' Sedeh, but I guess, y'know, me bein' Irish an' awl, I guess t'at wouldn' be kosheh.

I never thought about this before: I know kosher is the food (type and the way it's prepared) and Jewish is the religion/culture, but for food to be kosher, must it only be cooked/prepped by Jewish people? I know there are rules around the prep, but I never thought about if it mattered who did the prep.

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Shooting craps in Valley Stream? Talk about "losing your shirt!"

Good one Lizzie. It does seem like a, how shall we say this, somewhat disreputable community.

Also, that's a lot of fuss by the police for game with less than $40/person involved.

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Hey, isn't this the same store where they shot "Double Indemnity?"

Maybe:

There isn't a specific prohibition in Exodus concerning Gentiles helping to prepare the Passover meal, but there does seem to be a lot of debate about it. The Ginsburgs aren't Orthodox, but given their generation they do tend to a more conservative interpretation of the law. Add to that the fact that the kosher requirements for Passover are more rigorous -- it may be that having someone help prepare the meal who hasn't personally complied with those requirements would cause concern.

Exodus does say that the Passover should not be eaten by "the sojourner" or "a hired servant," the latter of which Alice, technically, would be, even though at this point she doesn't accept any payment for her services. I think sees Mr. and Mrs. G more as surrogate parents than as employers, and any daughter knows how hard it is to help your mother do anything in the kitchen...