The Era -- Day By Day

[LizzieMaine]

One of the conesequences of working on a broad canvas is the possibility of having so many characters and situations going on at once that the focus has to keep shifting to keep track of them all. Caniff will often take either Terry or Pat off the stage for months at a time, but always seems to bring them back at just the right moment. Characters we haven't seen in years will also reappear when you least expect them.

We havent, for example, seen Burma since the day ater Raven Sherman was thrown off the truck, and we don't even know, for sure, if she survived. We haven't seen Captain Blaze since he escaped into Hong Kong -- possibly carrying the cholera germ -- one step ahead of the authorities. We haven't seen April Kane since she fled Hong Kong just ahead of the Japanese invasion. Yet I'm sure Caniff knows exactly where each of them is and what they're doing -- and he'll let us in on it when the time is right.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("You g'wan up ahedda me," says Alice, as she, Sally, and Leonora climb the stoop in the early evening. "I got sump'n I wanna do." "G'd luck," comments Sally, as she and her daughter head up the stairs. Alice pauses, fluffs her hair, and emits a small "ahem." Krause the super, absorbed in painting the foyer woodwork, does not look up. "AHEM." repeats Alice. "Yeh?" replies Krause, not turning from his work. "I guess ya hoid t'news, huh?"ventures Alice. "Awloveh t'papeh t'night. ROME BOMBED. Guess'a wawr's takin' a new toin', huh?" "Yeh," nods Krause, not looking up. "Guess -- um -- y'won' hafteh worry 'bout get'n drafted, huh." "Too old," replies Krause, flicking the excess paint from his brush onto the papers covering the floor. "Izzat so," bounces back Alice, with a studied wrinkling of her Pert Irish Nose. "Ya'd neveh guess. Lotsa young guys got -- um -- a bawld spawt like t'at." "Yeh," agrees Krause, stepping back to consider his work. "Ya do a good jawb onna paintin'," ventures Alice. "I was tellin' Misteh G t'utteh day, I'm tellin' 'im, 't'at Misteh Krause,' I says, 'he got t'eye of a masteh. A reg'leh masteh. An' y'know what he says? He says t'me, he says 'sha shtil.' I'm still loinin', but I t'ink t'at means 'ya right!' I love loinin' a new langwidge, I t'ink it's swell." "Yeh," agrees Krause, tapping the lid back onto the paint can with the heel of his shoe. "I guess ya done, huh?" comments Alice. "Ya done a good jawb." "Yeh," nods Krause, with a sigh. "But I guess I ain' done yet.." He bends down to pry off the lid once more. "Whatcha mean?" queries Alice, twisting her head. "T'at railin' y'been leanin' awn," shrugs Krause. "It's awl oveh ya cloes now." "Oh," sighs Alice. "Y'want some toipentine?" asks Krause. "Downstehs I got some toipentine." "T'ank you, Misteh Krause," grins Alice, with a triumphant nose wiggle. "I'd love some toipentine.")

United States jungle troops are storming Munda today from two and perhaps three sides in a final drive to capture that central Solomon Islands base, as Allied warships and planes reported the sinking and damaging of eight more Japanese ships in nearby waters. The attack on Munda airbase and Lambeti, one mile to the east, was launched Saturday by marines and army troops under a protective umbrella of Dauntless and Avenger bombers that dropped 44 tons of explosives on enemy positions.

John L. Lewis meets today with the United Mine Workers policy committee to define strategy for the next phase of the union's dispute with coal operators and the Administration. The union must decide whether it will maintain its present policy in the face of the Administration's proposal to return seized mines to the operators under the terms of the Smith-Connally Anti-Strike Law. After the miners agreed to return to work on the condition that the Government take over the mines, the new law was passed requiring the Administration to return seized mines to the operators within 60 days of coal production reaching pre-strike levels. UMW officials are expected to discuss terms to be pressed in any resumption of contract talks, with an emphasis on the union demand that miners be paid on a portal-to-portal basis, rather than on the existing policy of beginning their work time after they have descended to their working levels in the mines.

2500 Bensonhurst residents turned out yesterday to welcome home local hero Lt. Vincent Puglisi of 2307 86th Street, who was the guest of honor at a neighborhood bond rally. Only 25 years old, Lt Puglisi has earned the Air Medal with eleven oak leaf clusters, and the Distinguished Flying Cross as the navigator of a Flying Fortress under the command of Major General Jimmy Doolittle in Africa. He was also cited five times for heroism for his accuracy in his sorties over Tunisia and Palermo. Lt. Puglisi was joined at the rally by his beaming parents, Joseph and Vincenze Puglisi, who expressed pride and nervous relief at having their "Vinny" back home again.

(Hope he combinated.)

Mayor LaGuardia today demanded, for the third time, that Governor Thomas E. Dewey call the state legislature into special session to empower the city to levy additional taxes in order to reduce the burden on property owners. The mayor, in his latest plea, delivered during his weekly radio broadcast over WNYC, reminded the Governor that Federal rent control appears inevitable, in the face of constant complaints from tenants that landlords are ignoring requests by the OPA that they freeze rents for the duration.

(Well, yeah, but could Mozart draw at the Paramount?)

("Remember, too much corned beef is bad for your blood pressure!")

("Now if you'll excuse me," comments Mr. Holmes' Unnamed Ballplayer, "I've got to go practice my square dancing.")

Lippy Leo Durocher brought his wit and wisdom to an unaccustomed audience last night in another radio appearance -- this time as a special guest on the British Broadcasting Corporation's "Answering You" program. Leo took part in the broadcast via shortwave relay, and attempted to explain baseball to an audience generally believed to be unfamiliar with the game. The program was picked up locally over both WNYC and the Mutual network. The Lip explained that when he married his wife Grace Dozier, she "knew nothing about the game," but now "she practically picks my pitchers for me."

(EVERYTHING IS FALLING INTO PLAAAAAAAACE)

(Cheesecake, Mr. Stamm? More like banana bread.)

(Hey Mike, didn't you used to be a trained scientist? Shouldn't you be taking the lead on this case?)

(AMERICA'S NUMBER ONE HERO DOG WILL FIT RIGHT IN ON THE FARM! HE IS ONE SIXTEENTH BORDER COLLIE! HE HAS PAPERS TO PROVE IT!)

(This has actually happened to me, and yes, it is acutely embarrassing. Especially when it's the cat who points out the problem.)

 

[Trenchfriend]

@LizzieMaine
First, I read "HOME BOMBED", oops...

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

Heartbreaking. And if the Army psychologists have any sense, they will positively NOT send Cpl. Sands overseas.

Keep 'em flying!

"Oh, I'll think of something!"

"And our special guest for tonight's broadcast..."

"Well, the Asp will..."

Walt and Phyllis are good at hiding their feelings, but they just aged twenty years.

"Enough with the chit-chat, Unc! Show me that place in Red Hook you were talkin' about!"

Yes, we know. We've seen you before.

Ah, it's nice to see the Slither Sisters are still getting work.

Kid's gotta make a living somehow.

Incidentally, note that as of today the News strips have lost their daily subtitles. The paper shortage continues to squeeze, and all strips are being presented slightly smaller than we're used to getting them. Expect to see an unfortunate simplification in artwork and dialogue.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And also...

Well, for now anyway...

 

[Fading Fast]

("You g'wan up ahedda me," says Alice, as she, Sally, and Leonora climb the stoop in the early evening. "I got sump'n I wanna do." "G'd luck," comments Sally, as she and her daughter head up the stairs. Alice pauses, fluffs her hair, and emits a small "ahem." Krause the super, absorbed in painting the foyer woodwork, does not look up. "AHEM." repeats Alice. "Yeh?" replies Krause, not turning from his work. "I guess ya hoid t'news, huh?"ventures Alice. "Awloveh t'papeh t'night. ROME BOMBED. Guess'a wawr's takin' a new toin', huh?" "Yeh," nods Krause, not looking up. "Guess -- um -- y'won' hafteh worry 'bout get'n drafted, huh." "Too old," replies Krause, flicking the excess paint from his brush onto the papers covering the floor. "Izzat so," bounces back Alice, with a studied wrinkling of her Pert Irish Nose. "Ya'd neveh guess. Lotsa young guys got -- um -- a bawld spawt like t'at." "Yeh," agrees Krause, stepping back to consider his work. "Ya do a good jawb onna paintin'," ventures Alice. "I was tellin' Misteh G t'utteh day, I'm tellin' 'im, 't'at Misteh Krause,' I says, 'he got t'eye of a masteh. A reg'leh masteh. An' y'know what he says? He says t'me, he says 'sha shtil.' I'm still loinin', but I t'ink t'at means 'ya right!' I love loinin' a new langwidge, I t'ink it's swell." "Yeh," agrees Krause, tapping the lid back onto the paint can with the heel of his shoe. "I guess ya done, huh?" comments Alice. "Ya done a good jawb." "Yeh," nods Krause, with a sigh. "But I guess I ain' done yet.." He bends down to pry off the lid once more. "Whatcha mean?" queries Alice, twisting her head. "T'at railin' y'been leanin' awn," shrugs Krause. "It's awl oveh ya cloes now." "Oh," sighs Alice. "Y'want some toipentine?" asks Krause. "Downstehs I got some toipentine." "T'ank you, Misteh Krause," grins Alice, with a triumphant nose wiggle. "I'd love some toipentine.")
...

Not quite a meet-cute, but for these two, it will have to do.

...

(Hey Mike, didn't you used to be a trained scientist? Shouldn't you be taking the lead on this case?)
...

The shame is Mike started out as a strong character - smart, engaged and willing to really challenge Dan - and then for whatever reason, and I forget the name of the writer of the strip now, he turned her into another Irwin.

"Are you kidding me? I'm having enough trouble finding work without loudmouths like you taking potshots at me from the cheap seats."

And in the Daily News...

Heartbreaking. And if the Army psychologists have any sense, they will positively NOT send Cpl. Sands overseas.
...

One hopes the Army psychologists will be smart enough to see that he needs help.

Kudos to Ms. McGuire and Mr. Swope for defying the Hollywood odds and having a thirty-six year marriage, the only marriage either had, that only ended with his passing in 1979.

...

"Well, the Asp will..."
...

You gotta love Annie giving Punjab the "talk to the hand."

...

"Enough with the chit-chat, Unc! Show me that place in Red Hook you were talkin' about!"
...

"Now, now, Nephew, didn't you read the Navy's pamphlet on that?"
"You go."
"I'm not essential to the war effort."
"I still want to go. It's all I think about."
"Oh to be seventeen again."

...

Ah, it's nice to see the Slither Sisters are still getting work.
...

Are they or have they joined the "gig" economy and are now "freelancing" on the street? Maybe someone could introduce them to the Nephew from "The Neighbors."

...

Incidentally, note that as of today the News strips have lost their daily subtitles. The paper shortage continues to squeeze, and all strips are being presented slightly smaller than we're used to getting them. Expect to see an unfortunate simplification in artwork and dialogue.

Thank you for the explanation as the subtitles' absence was quite noticeable.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Good mawrnin', ladies," nods Flannery the cop as Sally and Alice careen around the corner of 63rd and 18th on their way to the BMT station. But Alice's headlong dash is disrupted as she trips on a sidewalk crack, and drops her lunch box. "Lemme help yeh wit'tat," offers the patrolman, kneeling to capture a bruised apple as it rolls toward the curb. "Yeh," breathes Alice. "T'anks." "C'mon," beckons Sally, "we'h jus' gonna make t'train." "Yeh, yeh," stammers Alice, jamming a disassembled corned beef sandwich back into her dinnerpail. "Glad t'help!" calls Flannery as they vanish down the portal. "I t'ink he likes ya," chuckles Sally, as they take their place on the crowded platform. "Meh," mehs Alice. "Cops is cops." "Hey," sniffs Sally. Whassat smell?" She sniffs again and leans toward Alice. "Hey," she inquires "Awr you wearin' pofiume?" "T'at ain' poifume," declares Alice with a satisfied smile. "T'at's toipentine!")

American troops in the vanguard of the initial Allied landings at Gela, Sicily, were greeted by groups of local civilians who welcomed them with jubiliation. "We from Brooklyn!" shouted several of the men, holding open their coats to display the labels of Brooklyn clothiers. So reported photographers Norman Alley of the News of The Day Newsreel and Robert T. Landry of Life magazine, who landed at LaGuardia Field today aboard an American Airlines Flying Ace bearing thousands of feet of film documenting invasion scenes. "It was not long before Americans were seated on doorsteps with Sicilians," reported the photographers, "drinking wine and holding babies on their laps."

The president of the South Brooklyn Board of Trade today defended local landlords against charges of rent gouging. Louis Wick asserted that property owners in his section have not increase rents despite increasing costs of operation, and urged a "roll back" of these costs as a way to keep rents from increasing in the future. Wick responded to a report by Joseph Platzker, assistant commissioner of the Department of Housing and Building, which observed that the number of available apartments is dropping and there have been numerous complaints by tenants concerning sudden rent boosts. That report was cited Sunday by Mayor LaGuardia during his weekly radio broadcast as evidence that Federal rent control "is inevitable." Critics of the mayor accused him of crying "crocodile tears" for tenants when the rent increases could have been avoided had he not vetoed municipal budget cuts passed by the City Council.

Restaurant proprietors in the Sands Street area around the Navy Yard indignantly denied charges by the Office of Price Administration that they are gouging customers. The OPA cited price increases in some Navy Yard district establishments of up to 35 percent since April, but restaurant owners along Sands Street, ranging from the proprietors of six-stool diners to cafeterias covering a third of a block or more, were united today in their condemnation of those charges, accusing Regional OPA Administrator Sylvan Joseph of "talking thru his hat." Edward Brady, owner of Brady's Bar and Grill, Sands Street's largest establishment, demanded to know where Joseph got his information. "I give soup, beef stew, two vegetables, beer, coffee or milk for 50 cents. And all the bread the customer can eat!" he declared. "Why," he continued, "you pay 40 cents for beef stew alone anywhere else!" Brady insisted he hasn't raised his prices "since a little before the war began." At the opposite side of the scale, proprietor Harry Klotz of Sands Street's smallest restaurant, the Sandwich Shop," pointed to his seven cent hamburgers, 20 cent ham-and-egg sandwiches, and 45 cent pork chops and wanted to know "why the OPA doesn't come and look before it makes charges?"

(Booking one of the whitest-sounding bands in the country as the stage prologue to the greatest black musical of the studio era seems like an odd bit of programming, but nobody asked me...)

(Don't spend too much time on it, kid -- next summer they'll be making $50 a day once a month.)

("Huh," huhs Joe. ""Magine'nat. Goin' awlaway up state t' look at a doity sweatshoit. I got a couple of'm right now. Won'eh if I could get $250 apiece f'rm?" "It's aaal about pooblic d'mand," chuckles Ma. "Did ye evar do anything famous in a daarrty sweatshart that would make somebody WANT t'look at it?" "Well," concedes Joe. "Not really. I slept in one las' winteh whenna berleh wasn' woikin', but I guess t'at don' amount to much. I guess I jus' ain' cut out much f'comin' up wit' rackets." "Don' be so saaad aboot it, Joseph," shrugs Ma. "It's an inbarrn gift, an' ye either got it aar ye doon't. Leonora, daarlin' don't poot the nickels in ye mouth, ye don' know whaar they been. Noooo, Joseph, some people aaar baaarn farr the hooostle, an' some aar not." "I wondeh," suggests Joe, "if I hung one'a t'em sweatshoits inna windeh heeh an' said it was jus' like Johnny Allen's, if t'at woik?" "I doon't run thaat saart of an establishment, Joseph," admonishes Ma. "We could hang it inna back," suggests Joe. "Run alaaang o work now," chuckles Ma. "Ye just doon't have the knack.")

The New York Black Yankees meet the Bushwicks tonight in the first twilight game of the season at Dexter Park. Both clubs have agreed to donate all proceeds of the game to the Cigarette Fund to buy smokes for men in the service.

Rumors that Fred Allen may be planning to retire from radio received a boost this week when the New England comic's arch-rival Jack Benny announced he has signed two key members of Allen's supporting cast to join him in Hollywood. Minerva Pious and John Brown, who have served with the Mighty Allen Art Players since 1934, will go west to join the Benny show this fall.

(You know, not to be catty or anything, but a high neckline doesn't go well at all with a lantern jaw.)

(Mrs. Gargantua wouldn't let him take this part unless she got a role too.)

("It's bad enough they hire me back to play a bad guy," growls Irwin, "but they're only paying me scale!")

(AMERICA'S NUMBER ONE HERO DOG DEMANDS TO BE ALLOWED TO DO HIS DUTY KEEPING THE PORK SUPPLY HEALTHY!)

(Classic Jo would say "It is hardly MY FAULT, dear, that you don't bathe your children!")

 

[LizzieMaine]

Incidentally...

To this day you can still go to Cooperstown and gaze with awe at Johnny Allen's dirty sweatshirt.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

"Suos bumos?" That doesn't sound very British to me.

It's still heartbreaking.

Some people are just born commandos.

"Hel-lo!" I wonder if Chester Gould was born this way, or if it developed over time?

These are hard times for pacifists.

"Have you ever wondered, Sahib, where they go? Would you LIKE to know?"

You know, she married Bumley, so she can't be THAT particular.

***snif***

LEMME GUESS DOES HE SLEEP IN A BUREAU DRAWER?

Don't worry, the way things are going you still have a chance to get in.

 

[Fading Fast]

...

Restaurant proprietors in the Sands Street area around the Navy Yard indignantly denied charges by the Office of Price Administration that they are gouging customers. The OPA cited price increases in some Navy Yard district establishments of up to 35 percent since April, but restaurant owners along Sands Street, ranging from the proprietors of six-stool diners to cafeterias covering a third of a block or more, were united today in their condemnation of those charges, accusing Regional OPA Administrator Sylvan Joseph of "talking thru his hat." Edward Brady, owner of Brady's Bar and Grill, Sands Street's largest establishment, demanded to know where Joseph got his information. "I give soup, beef stew, two vegetables, beer, coffee or milk for 50 cents. And all the bread the customer can eat!" he declared. "Why," he continued, "you pay 40 cents for beef stew alone anywhere else!" Brady insisted he hasn't raised his prices "since a little before the war began." At the opposite side of the scale, proprietor Harry Klotz of Sands Street's smallest restaurant, the Sandwich Shop," pointed to his seven cent hamburgers, 20 cent ham-and-egg sandwiches, and 45 cent pork chops and wanted to know "why the OPA doesn't come and look before it makes charges?"
...

Somebody on the OPA's staff needs to get off his/her butt and make a surprise site inspection to find out the real story.

...
("Huh," huhs Joe. ""Magine'nat. Goin' awlaway up state t' look at a doity sweatshoit. I got a couple of'm right now. Won'eh if I could get $250 apiece f'rm?" "It's aaal about pooblic d'mand," chuckles Ma. "Did ye evar do anything famous in a daarrty sweatshart that would make somebody WANT t'look at it?" "Well," concedes Joe. "Not really. I slept in one las' winteh whenna berleh wasn' woikin', but I guess t'at don' amount too much. I guess I jus' ain' cut out much f'comin' up wit' rackets." "Don' be so saaad aboot it, Joseph," shrugs Ma. "It's an inbarrn gift, an' ye either got it aar ye doon't. Leonora, daarlin' don't poot the nickels in ye mouth, ye don' know whaar they been. Noooo, Joseph, some people aaar baaarn farr the hooostle, an' some aar not." "I wondeh," suggests Joe, "if I hung one'a t'em sweatshoits inna windeh heeh an' said it was jus' like Johnny Allen's, if t'at woik?" "I doon't run thaat saart of an establishment, Joseph," admonishes Ma. "We could hang it inna back," suggests Joe. "Run alaaang o work now," chuckles Ma. "Ye just doon't have the knack.")
...

Now imagine explaining the value of NFTs to Joe.

...

("It's bad enough they hire me back to play a bad guy," growls Irwin, "but they're only paying me scale!")
...

I'm picking up more of a Beau Bridges vibe from Brother Emil.

...

It's still heartbreaking.
...

You think you are numb to the daily tragedies of life in newspapers until a story like this hits.

...

"Hel-lo!" I wonder if Chester Gould was born this way, or if it developed over time?
...

You wonder if his wife reads his strip and what she thinks?

"Come to bed, Dear."
"Not on your life!"
"What?"
[Sigh] "Nothing."

...

"Have you ever wondered, Sahib, where they go? Would you LIKE to know?"
...

Why is everyone getting so squeamish now, it's not like this is their first rodeo with Punjab.

Plus, what the hey, it's not like Daddy didn't just make up an army so that he could wear his general's uniform. None of this is kosher.

 

[FOXTROT LAMONT]

One of the conesequences of working on a broad canvas is the possibility of having so many characters and situations going on at once that the focus has to keep shifting to keep track of them all. Caniff will often take either Terry or Pat off the stage for months at a time, but always seems to bring them back at just the right moment. Characters we haven't seen in years will also reappear when you least expect them.

We havent, for example, seen Burma since the day ater Raven Sherman was thrown off the truck, and we don't even know, for sure, if she survived. We haven't seen Captain Blaze since he escaped into Hong Kong -- possibly carrying the cholera germ -- one step ahead of the authorities. We haven't seen April Kane since she fled Hong Kong just ahead of the Japanese invasion. Yet I'm sure Caniff knows exactly where each of them is and what they're doing -- and he'll let us in on it when the time is right.

While I am fairly new to Terrence and an admirer of his, Ryan, all the strip lads and ladies are really quite splendid, with Mr Caniff's expanse a bit better sharp focus methinks might play better here and there. Rouge could have been tried and hung with execution a more real war play than what was served instead. Taffy-pull amnesia, sex starved lads are predictable old play tepid tea. And it all went quick downhill dullard for me. Sorry.

And I must say Mr Caniff is up there competing with these trully first news stories after the home front. The crime news
serves the fish and chips right quick and the war itself is everywhere terrible. Corp Sand's loss is tragic poor man.
And these harden the reader to an edge so a first comic needs similar edge and very sharp focus.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Huh," huhs Joe. "A hawrse runnin' awf awn New Yawrk Aveneh..Say, t'at ain' awlat fawr f'm heeh." "Nonsense, Joseph," chuckles Ma. "That's aahl th' way up in Crown Heights. Whoo knows what koind'a naansense goes on oop there." Ma's commentary is interrupted by the telephone. She steps from behind the counter to answer. "Lieb's...Ahh, yes Francis. Nooo, I haav'nt staaarted soopar yet. What's that now? What koind'a steaks? Waaaal, if I'm gonna COOK'm I got a roit to know..." "Sometimes," snickers Joe into his egg cream, "it's betteh not t'know..." "I caaan't hear a warrd ye sayin', Francis," continues Ma, "with all the shoutin' Joseph is doin' here...Well, whatta ye MEAN even aaaskin' me if ye don't have'm yet? WHAT joost went by ye window? FRANCIS! FRAAAAANCIS!!!!!")

The American air, sea, and land blockade of the central Solomons was credited today with a new toll of three and possible four Japanese warships. A communique from the headquarters of General Douglas MacArthur reported that U. S. bombers sank a light cruiser and two destroyers out of an 11-ship convoy. A third destroyer was said to be probably blasted to the bottom" as well.

In Muncie, Indiana a mother of ten on trial for her life before a jury of dour Indiana farmers testified today that she believed it to be God's will that she should murder the husband of her children while he slept. Forty-five-year old Mrs. Clara Edwards has admitted to shooting 44-year-old Moyne Edwards to death on April 2nd, but she maintained that she was instructed by God to do so in order to protect herself and her children from her husband's "drunken bullying." "I have nothing to repent," declared Mrs. Edwards. "It was an act of God." Mrs. Edwards' father-in-law agreed with her statements, telling the jury that his son "was a drunken beast, a maniac," and further testified that Moyne Edwards was "staggering drunk" the night of the shooting. The couple's oldest son, Jack Edwards, an 18-year-old Army private, testified that his hearing was permanently damaged as a child when his father struck him violently on the head.

Mayor LaGuardia is calling on the Office of Price Administration to suspend ceiling prices on seafood in order to relieve the current fish shortage resulting from a strike by New England commercial fishing fleets. The Mayor declared that a 30 day suspension of price ceilings would allow large local dealers which have been forced to close to reopen.

Corporal Al Sand left New York today to return to his post as an Army cook in Alabama, following funeral services for his wife and infant daughter. Twenty-three-year-old Etta Sand of 553 3rd Avenue and the couple's eight-month-old daughter Diana were buried yesterday at Cypress Hills Cemetery in Queens as some fifty friends and relatives looked on. Corporal Sand indicated that all money donations sent to him int he wake of the tragedy have been turned over to the Emergency Relief Society, and that combat action "can't come took quickly" for him.

(Tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick...)

"Old Timer" writes in to suggest that the war can't really be won until America abandons the "dog eat dog" spirit that has long governed so much of our national attitude. "We need only note the spirit of our fighting men over there, where men, regardless of creed or color or past nationalities are recognized as pals and buddies, not because of their social standing but because of the stuff within them."

(Yamamoto? How long has it been since you emptied that wastebasket?)

("Ah, Parrott," sighs Mr. Rickey, hastening to close the door. "Have a chair, my boy, a chair. You weren't followed?" "How's that?" inquires Mr. Parrott. "Followed, my boy," jitters Mr. Rickey. "Followed by two women, you see, a large redhead and a loud brunette. You weren't followed? You didn't notice such women, my boy, at any point along your route? "No, sir," declares Mr. Parrott. "That's very good, my boy, very good," nods Mr. Rickey, opening his office closet and peeking inside. Strict confidence, my boy, we must maintain strict confidence, and we must exercise the greatest caution. Hence the lateness of the hour." Mr. Rickey glances under his desk, and finding nothing, takes his chair. "Now then, our plans for Mr. Olmo..." But he is interrupted by the buzzing of his intercom. He lifts the receiver. "Oh," he groans, dropping his cigar onto his blotter. "No, Jane Ann, positively not, send them away. Call a policeman if you must but send them...I don't care, whatever you have to...well if they won't go, then have them bodily..." "Uh, Mr. Rickey," interrupts Mr. Parrott. "One moment, my boy," dismisses Mr. Rickey, with a wave of his hand, "this is a vital matter." "But Mr. Rickey" insists Mr. Parrott. "Your blotter's on fire!" "No, Jane Ann, positively not. I declare to you that if you let them in here, I'll..." Mr. Parrott grabs a glass of water and flings it onto the desktop, quenching the blaze with a smoky sizzle" "WE KNOW YEH INNEAH FATHEAD," comes a brittle yell from the outer office. Mr. Rickey bangs down the phone, glances momentarily at the window overlooking Borough Hall, weighs his options, and dashes instead for the closet. "But Mr. Rickey..." stammers Mr. Parrott, as an unseen and insistent hand rattles the doorknob. "OPEN UP, FATHEAD!" comes the voice as the closet door slams shut. "Uh," smiles Mr. Parrott, as the office door bursts open. "Hello, ladies...")

("One World" is a thoughtful, compelling, beautifully-written book. But it is hardly movie material.)

("Look, I've only got six weeks left! I've gotta work fast!")

("Craddlecap Cork." Say it three times fast.)

(Swung on and missed!)

(It's a joy to see poor Kitty so happy.)

(The Self Made Man.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

A "Dick Tracy act?" Nonsense, they took her alive.

"Why you bringin' back s'many bottles? You don't buy here! Take'm back where ya gottem!"

"Show him, Punjab!"

It's a wonder Stoop doesn't work for Warbucks.

Come now. Isn't it obvious?

It's a hard life when nobody is ever glad to see you.

"The overtime's pretty good too!"

"Never mind that, how much for the horse?"

No, it's a latrine.

It's the thought that counts.

 

[Fading Fast]

("Huh," huhs Joe. "A hawrse runnin' awf awn New Yawrk Aveneh..Say, t'at ain' awlat fawr f'm heeh." "Nonsense, Joseph," chuckles Ma. "That's aahl th' way up in Crown Heights. Whoo knows what koind'a naansense goes on oop there." Ma's commentary is interrupted by the telephone. She steps from behind the counter to answer. "Lieb's...Ahh, yes Francis. Nooo, I haav'nt staaarted soopar yet. What's that now? What koind'a steaks? Waaaal, if I'm gonna COOK'm I got a roit to know..." "Sometimes," snickers Joe into his egg cream, "it's betteh not t'know..." "I caaan't hear a warrd ye sayin', Francis," continues Ma, "with all the shoutin' Joseph is doin' here...Well, whatta ye MEAN even aaaskin' me if ye don't have'm yet? WHAT joost went by ye window? FRANCIS! FRAAAAANCIS!!!!!")
...

The horse, presumably, walking himself back to his stable is the cutest thing we've seen all week. He was tired and he wanted to go home. He was probably only brought out of retirement recently owing to gas rationing.

...
("Ah, Parrott," sighs Mr. Rickey, hastening to close the door. "Have a chair, my boy, a chair. You weren't followed?" "How's that?" inquires Mr. Parrott. "Followed, my boy," jitters Mr. Rickey. "Followed by two women, you see, a large redhead and a loud brunette. You weren't followed? You didn't notice such women, my boy, at any point along your route? "No, sir," declares Mr. Parrott. "That's very good, my boy, very good," nods Mr. Rickey, opening his office closet and peeking inside. Strict confidence, my boy, we must maintain strict confidence, and we must exercise the greatest caution. Hence the lateness of the hour." Mr. Rickey glances under his desk, and finding nothing, takes his chair. "Now then, our plans for Mr. Olmo..." But he is interrupted by the buzzing of his intercom. He lifts the receiver. "Oh," he groans, dropping his cigar onto his blotter. "No, Jane Ann, positively not, send them away. Call a policeman if you must but send them...I don't care, whatever you have to...well if they won't go, then have them bodily..." "Uh, Mr. Rickey," interrupts Mr. Parrott. "One moment, my boy," dismisses Mr. Rickey, with a wave of his hand, "this is a vital matter." "But Mr. Rickey" insists Mr. Parrott. "Your blotter's on fire!" "No, Jane Ann, positively not. I declare to you that if you let them in here, I'll..." Mr. Parrott grabs a glass of water and flings it onto the desktop, quenching the blaze with a smoky sizzle" "WE KNOW YEH INNEAH FATHEAD," comes a brittle yell from the outer office. Mr. Rickey bangs down the phone, glances momentarily at the window overlooking Borough Hall, weighs his options, and dashes instead for the closet. "But Mr. Rickey..." stammers Mr. Parrott, as an unseen and insistent hand rattles the doorknob. "OPEN UP, FATHEAD!" comes the voice as the closet door slams shut. "Uh," smiles Mr. Parrott, as the office door bursts open. "Hello, ladies...")
...

"...a large redhead and a loud brunette."

...

(It's a joy to see poor Kitty so happy.)
...

Considering the shortage of farm hands, I don't think spending the summer on a farm in '43 would be fun at all. "I'll take the heat, grit and grime of the city, thank you. " Junior is lucky he's not going.

...

"Show him, Punjab!"
...

Even considering it's Punjab, Gray lost control of scale in panel three today.

I think Daddy wanted to get rid of the last six without quite having their blood on his hands, so he "steered" the conversation to where he wanted it to go.

...

It's a wonder Stoop doesn't work for Warbucks.
...

No kidding. Team him up with Punjab and they could rule the world.

...

It's a hard life when nobody is ever glad to see you.
...

"A Toupee? W-was it yours. Er, I mean..."

Oh, Andy, you just don't have it.

 

[EngProf]

("Victory Through Air Power:" the forgotten "Disney Classic.")
I had the honor of meeting Major Alexander de Seversky, author of the book "Victory Through Air Power", many years after the War. A very pleasant encounter.
He was out of aviation and was working in environmental engineering.

 

[FOXTROT LAMONT]

The Hardwig nursey mixup I just couldn't read.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("HELLO FOLKS!" bellows Joe, as he wheels Leonora's stroller into Lieb's Candy Store. "Heh," he hehs, "jus' like t' Woil's Faieh..." But he trails off as he notices Ma slumped over the counter as Uncle Frank stands over her, his face grave. "Whas'awlis?" Joe asks, a note of concern rising in his voice Uncle Frank pushes a yellow sheet across the counter, and Joe realizes what it is before he gets past the first line:

QL23-44 GOVT = WMU WASHINGTON DC JUL 22 235P

MRS NORA K SWEENEY
= 503 ROGERS AVE BKLYN NY

THE SECRETARY OF WAR DESIRES ME TO EXPRESS HIS DEEP REGRET THAT YOUR SON PRIVATE MICHAEL P SWEENEY HAS BEEN REPORTED MISSING IN ACTION SINCE TEN JULY IN SICILY IF FURTHER DETAILS OR OTHER INFORMATION IS RECEIVED YOU WILL BE PROMPTLY NOTIFIED =

ULIO THE ADJUTANT GENERAL

There are no sounds, as Joe lowers the sheet, save the rumble of traffic thru the screen door and the quiet sobbing of a mother.)

The United Mine Workers believed today that they have plugged the loopholes in their wage case with a strategic maneuver that may bring John L. Lewis before the War Labor Board for the first time. Lewis gave the prolonged coal mine dispute a new twist when he reached an agreement with Illinois operators to give his miners an additional $2.75 daily -- $1.25 for underground travel pay and $1.50 for an extra hour of work at an overtime rate. The agreement was obviously drafted to meet objections by the WLB to UMW demands, and the UMW Policy Committee will meet today to approve the agreement. In addition to approval from the War Labor Board, coal operators in Illiinois indicated that their acceptance of the agreement is contingent on the Office of Price Administration approving an increase in coal prices of 35 cents per ton, in order to cover the expense of the wage increase.

(Repeat that last sentence for emphasis, please.)

The ten-piece studio orchestra employed by station WNEW did not report to work today after it was called out by American Federation of Musicians President James C. Petrillo in reprisal for the station's attempt to circumvent the union ban on new recorded music by the use of records imported from England. Several English recordings of current popular songs were played over WNEW last Thursday by Martin Block on his "Make Believe Ballroom" program. Petrillo expressed his hope that the dispute could be resolved today.

Suffolk County has the largest number of farm labor camps in the state, according to tabulations released today by the manager of the County Farm Bureau. Six camps are now in operation in Suffolk County, housing a total of 504 farm workers. 434 of these laborers were imported from the West Indies, mostly from Jamaica, with the remainder being high school boys and girls housed in camps at Yaphank and East Marion.

Early conquest of Bairoko Harbor, one of the last two Japanese bases remaining on New Georgia Island in the central Solomons was predicted today after 150 American bombers pulverized its defenses in the heaviest raid ever made in the South Pacific. U. S. Marines and soldiers were believed to have moved up to new positions ringing the base while wave after wave of Dauntlesses, Avengers, and Mitchells, accompanied by strong fighter escorts, dropped 133 tons of bombs on the harbor area during yesterday's day-long raid.

A public hearing will be held at 2 PM next Wednesday by the City Affairs Committee of the City Council to consider the DiFalco-Carroll resolution calling for the establishment of rent ceilings in the city. The resolution, put forward by Manhattan Democrats Samuel DiFalco and WIlliam Carroll, calls on Mayor LaGuardia to formally request that the OPA establish such ceilings in order to curb rent increases. All persons interested in the measure are invited to attend the hearing.

("I'm goin' t't movies t'night," says Alice, sitting next to Sally on the front stoop. "Krause is takin' me, but he don' know it yet. Gonna go see t'at Bogawrt pitcheh at t' Dykeh. Y'otta come, kid, it'll take ya min' offa -- you know..." "Neh," nehs Sally, exhaling a deep sigh, as she watches Leonora poking a twig into a sidewalk crack. "He's gonna be awright, Sal," comforts Alice. "I neveh seen Mickey yet get inna jam he can't get outa. Why, lotsa times, we... um .. well, less jus' say... ummm...he's gonna be awright, OK?" "Look," exhales Sally. "I know he's kind'va rat, OK? I know he's been in jail. I know why he jern't t' Awrmy inna fois' place, awright? T'at judge made 'im do it, OK? He ain' no brave patriot fight'n f't' Foeh Freed'ms a' nut'n. He's jus' a dumb kid fr'm t'neighbehood try'na get away wit' what he c'n get away wit'. I dunno what makes 'im t'way he is. He wasn' brung up t'at way, but, y'know, he's jus' t'at way an'ne ain' neveh gonna change. An'now...well, I jus' dunno. I neveh seen Ma like she was t'night. I remembeh how she was when Pa din' come home f'm t' las' wawr, but back t'en she was *sore* about it. I neveh seen 'eh cry bef'oeh t'night. Not one time. I ask ya." "He'll be awright," reassures Alice. "You go see ya movie," sighs Sally. "Go easy on Krause, t'ough, he don' get out much." "Yeh," nods Alice. "You gonna be awright?" "I'm awrways awright," shrugs Sally.)

"Reader" writes in to wonder why it is that, when one looks over the lists of men killed in action, most of the officers listed seem to be first and second lieutenants. "Where do the higher ranking officers stand in the line of action?"

(Mothers, have you talked to your daughters yet?)

The 20 year old divorcee who kidnapped three-year-old Jimmy DiMaggio and took him to Nashville, Tennesee in an attempt to win back her estranged husband before abandoning the child in a Manhattan Automat is undergoing psychiatric tests today at Bellevue Hospital in an effort to determine her sanity. Mary Penora of 16 Forsythe Street, Manhattan, will remain at Bellevue for ten days for extensive examination before it is decided whether she will be prosecuted on a Federal kidnapping charge.

("Oh, yes, Mr. Rickey," says John McDonald, seated at his desk in Montreal. "It's just as I told, you, this kid Olmo is the real stuff. What's that you say? Who? No, when I was in Brooklyn, she was always alone. I don't remember any...no, I'm sorry, sir, I don't think I can...no, Mr. MacPhail left all that to me. I think he was afraid of...no, I'm sorry, I'm happy here in Montreal. I like the ball club, I like the town...no, Mr. Rickey, it's not a matter of...well, as we say up here, Mr. Rickey, c'est la vie...")

Bobo Newsom, back in his old St. Louis Browns uniform, had little to say about Leo Durocher the other night at Yankee Stadium. Pressed by reporters for a quotable quote, Large Louie merely said "let it ride, if that's the way Leo wants to play it. I don't know what Leo thinks of me, and I don't care. I think he's a great manager, and all the Dodger players are grand guys. I hope they win every game from now on." But Browns manager Luke Sewell had something to say about Newsom. "Bobo is in no shape to pitch ball," declared the Brownie pilot, indicating that he has no plans to use the well-traveled veteran in the Yankee series.

(CEREAL for lunch??? What kind of Dickensian workhouse is this??)

(Stick around this strip, bud -- you'll see plenty of strange-looking people.)

(NO ONE WILL EVER KNOW)

(Sitting in a suitcase??? Isn't that CAT thing???)

(Many fine radio actresses got their start making prank calls.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

My oh my. These phony counts are getting younger and younger.

"By 9 o'clock the horse was eating her hedge." Well what else is there to do in Jackson Heights?

Rank's no good unless you get to pull it once in a while.

A hotel? What are you trying to tell us, Chief?

Wanna go next?

Never mind that, why is there a portrait of a dead fish on the wall?

HMPH LOTTA GENTLEMEN ON THIS CAR

War is Heck.

Yeah, it was that kind of party.

Hmph. Nobody gave ME watermelon to teach me fractions.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And also...

There's that arrow again!

 

[Fading Fast]

...

Suffolk County has the largest number of farm labor camps in the state, according to tabulations released today by the manager of the County Farm Bureau. Six camps are now in operation in Suffolk County, housing a total of 504 farm workers. 434 of these laborers were imported from the West Indies, mostly from Jamaica, with the remainder being high school boys and girls housed in camps at Yaphank and East Marion.
...

Which is exactly why Junior should be happy he isn't spending his summer on a farm.

...

("I'm goin' t't movies t'night," says Alice, sitting next to Sally on the front stoop. "Krause is takin' me, but he don' know it yet. Gonna go see t'at Bogawrt pitcheh at t' Dykeh. Y'otta come, kid, it'll take ya min' offa -- you know..." "Neh," nehs Sally, exhaling a deep sigh, as she watches Leonora poking a twig into a sidewalk crack. "He's gonna be awright, Sal," comforts Alice. "I neveh seen Mickey yet get inna jam he can't get outa. Why, lotsa times, we... um .. well, less jus' say... ummm...he's gonna be awright, OK?" "Look," exhales Sally. "I know he's kind'va rat, OK? I know he's been in jail. I know why he jern't t' Awrmy inna fois' place, awright? T'at judge made 'im do it, OK? He ain' no brave patriot fight'n f't' Foeh Freed'ms a' nut'n. He's jus' a dumb kid fr'm t'neighbehood try'na get away wit' what he c'n get away wit'. I dunno what makes 'im t'way he is. He wasn' brung up t'at way, but, y'know, he's jus' t'at way an'ne ain' neveh gonna change. An'now...well, I jus' dunno. I neveh seen Ma like she was t'night. I remembeh how she was when Pa din' come home f'm t' las' wawr, but back t'en she was *sore* about it. I neveh seen 'eh cry bef'oeh t'night. Not one time. I ask ya." "He'll be awright," reassures Alice. "You go see ya movie," sighs Sally. "Go easy on Krause, t'ough, he don' get out much." "Yeh," nods Alice. "You gonna be awright?" "I'm awrways awright," shrugs Sally.)
...

" I dunno what makes 'im t'way he is. He wasn' brung up t'at way, but, y'know, he's jus' t'at way an'ne ain' neveh gonna change." That's a lot of smart insight that many families never understand about a wayward son/brother/father/husband/daughter/sister/mother/wife. It doesn't make the wayward one's behavior right, but that's not the point.

Reading through this page, two names - Ella Raines and Lloyd Nolan - jumped out at me as two pretty big stars in their day who are unknown today. "Hail the Conquering Hero" (which stars Ms. Raines) is a surprisingly underrated Preston Sturges picture. I enjoy it more than his better-known "The Miracle of Morgan Creek."

...

(Stick around this strip, bud -- you'll see plenty of strange-looking people.)
...

This is a pretty brutal start to a storyline and more Gould than Stamm like.

And in the Daily News...

My oh my. These phony counts are getting younger and younger.
..

And I'd have bet money you were going to comment on Ms. Luce's fired cook who wouldn't leave.

Every time they report on this count murder story, they write it in an unnecessarily confusing way, where I always have to step back for a second and think, who killed whom? BTW, she's a cutie.

...

"By 9 o'clock the horse was eating her hedge." Well what else is there to do in Jackson Heights?
...

Now, Lizzie, this is a family newspaper.

Poor Jerry, he must have been completely confused.

...

Wanna go next?
...

Seriously, I can do this all day. And come on, it's a bunch of dead Nazi spies and submariners in wartime, let's move on people.

...

Yeah, it was that kind of party.
...

It's actually pretty amazing any of these people have made it this far in life.

And also...

There's that arrow again!

In the Daily News style guide, it's known as "Owen's Arrow."