The Era -- Day By Day

[Fading Fast]

...anticipating that the day is not far off when the average family will own its own airplane, purchased for about $100 -- and that the availability of such private aircraft will allow for the dispersal of housing over a vastly wider area rather than the concentration of the population in cities. "Each family can hope and expect," Truman declared, "to have sufficient ground for its children to play and for the planting of fruit trees and gardens,"
...

...

("Whatta ya MEAN cattle not included? Well who reads the fine print???")
...

Supply chain management 1943 style.

...

The dismissal of a petition for involuntary bankruptcy filed against the operators of the Childs restaurant chain is expected today following the revelation that two of the three signers of that petition are not actual creditors. The report by Special Master Robert P. Stevenson in Manhattan Federal Court that those two signers were "dummies" used by the company itself in a scheme to sell Childs Company debentures short.
...

So little is new, even in financial corruption.

...

("Look, I LIKE PIRATES, all right? It's a thing I have!")
...

Our safe-word will be "eyepatch."

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"I ONLY WENT TO THE RACETRACK THAT ONE TIME!"
...

"Don't ruin this for us, Annie, with your infernal questions. Who cares what happened to their car. Did I mention to you that we are out of range of both the Japanese and German bombers here? Think big picture, Kid!"

...

"Wait'll he sees what I've been doing with old birth certificates!"
...

The parents will really lynch you if she starts selling the marriage licenses to the teenage boys and girls.

 

[FOXTROT LAMONT]

Today's circas with parental homicide stories I skipped over quickly but the marijuana garden bust lightened
my mood considerably. I know the weed was around back wenz but victory gardening gave it a twist.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Panicked Goimans caught in traffic jam," guffaws Joe. "Fat chance t'ey'd have on Flatbush Aveneh! I'm tellin' ya, t'wawr is gonna be oveh by Chris'mas." Ma pauses while sliding a new box of Krackel bars into place inside the display case, and sighs.)

Reports received from Italian travelers in Madrid state that Benito Mussolini is being held under heavy guard at Castle Porziano, summer residence of King Victor Emmanuel, on the personal orders of the monarch himself. The travelers also brought confirmation that Mussolini's Fascist Grand Council deserted him at the hour of crisis, demanding along with the King that he abandon the premiership. Mussolini was then arrested, the reports state, on the orders of Marshal Pietro Bagdolio, and taken into custody on the grand staircase of the King's palace by two police officers. As Mussolini left an audience with the King, where he was informed that his resignation was in order, an officer reportedly stopped him and said "Your Excellency, please follow us." When Mussolini made a gesture of protest, the officer is said to have replied "Marshal Bagdolio's orders, Your Excellency." The former Duce was then led down a corridor where a Red Cross ambulance awaited. He was taken in that ambulance to a military fort near Rome, and subsequently moved to the castle under the King's direct command.

Amateur poultry farmers who had hoped to supplement their meat ration with chicken from backyard flocks may face the forced liquidation of their flocks by order of the Government, in a move to conserve feed for livestock. The warning came last night from Austin W. Carpenter of Governor Dewey's Emergency Food Administration, speaking before a gathering of Nassau and Suffolk County poultry farmers last night. Under the expected tightening of feed supplies, he stated, the majority of available feed would be provided to farmers raising large flocks for shipment to commercial markets, leaving little remaining for the use of city and suburban residents keeping small flocks for personal use. Carpenter further warned poultry farmers to stop feeding their flocks corn, which is quickly becoming scarce as the demand builds from midwestern hog farmers, and recommended shifting instead to Government-held wheat and Canadian barley.

The President of Brooklyn College today accused Free French General Charles deGaulle of pursuing anti-American, anti-British, Fascist and totalitarian policies. Speaking in Chicago today before the Chicago Council of Foreign Relations, President Harry Gideonse, just returned from five weeks in England as the guest of the British Ministry of Intormation, declared that deGaulle's reputation as a political leader "is almost entirely fictitious," and asserted that when Frenchmen escape from Occupied France they discover that "DeGaullism represents the exact opposite of the values identified with the 'radio general' they have learned to know." Gideonse further stated that "the situation is complicated by the fact that individual Frenchmen are not allowed to escape by means of the underground controlled by the deGaullists unless they promise loyalty to deGaulle's leadership by an oath that has all the earmarks of a Fascist ritual," and accused the General's followers of using "Gestapo techniques" to keep the underground in line.

(What, no meatballs???)

The Eagle Editorialist shrugs at the military order banning all photography by civilians along the shores of southern Long Island. "There is no explanation," the EE observes of the recent edict from the office of Lt. General H. A. Drum, commander of the Eastern Defense Command, "nor should we expect one. The Army has reasons which it deems good and sufficient," and as a result, beachgoers this summer will have to do without the snapshots of "little Johnny shoveling sand in a pail or the girl friend screaming with terror at the approach of a wave."

("Nah, I'm playin' the field!")

("And this, Mr. Rickey," explains genial Red Barber, "is the microphone. When you have somthing to say, you just lean forward and speak right in here. And if a Dodger player hits a home run, you take one of these cartons of cigarettes right here, and you slide it over the railing, just like this, and down the screen, where the batboy can pick it up and present it to the batter as he crosses the plate." "Just a moment, my boy, just a moment," sputters Mr. Rickey. "Do you mean to tell me we are GIVING these cigarettes away? At no cost at all?" "Well, you see, sir, this is a promotion for the sponsor, and..." "A promotion you say?" Mr. Rickey erupts."BUT AT WHAT EXPENSE? No no no, we'll have none of that. But I'll tell you what we'll do. We'll deduct the cost of each carton from each batter's salary -- but to show our gratitude and goodwill, dear boy, our gratitude and goodwill, we shall merely charge the wholesale price, along with a trifling charge for handling. Yes indeed, that's what we shall do. "Judas Priest," mutters Mr. Barber. "What?" "Nothing, sir.")

(Hmph, what a dive. They let ANYBODY in.)

("Let's Have Another Cup of Coffee!")

(I wish Caniff would hire Burma again so she wouldn't have to take on these demeaning side gigs.)

("AMERICA'S NUMBER ONE HERO DOG WILL ALWAYS FIND A WAY!")

(Yeah, I had a visit from Gus and Clara last night...)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

"Hmmmmm," ponders eminent playwright G. Rose Lee. "Politics. *I* could do that!"

Please go away.

"It's a rat race on the beach!" The Navy now provides play-by-play broadcasts of all raids.

Yeah, she learned her lesson with Bumley.

Opening today for a guaranteed six month engagement -- Harold Gray vs. the OPA.

Don't be so cocky, Mrs. P -- there's lots of jobs out there for guys named Emil!

"And it was a real step up from Childs! They wanted to pay me in debentures!"

"They want to promote me to sergeant, but so far I've been lucky!"

Nobody's slept thru the night in this house since 1923.

You know, all it would take is a bribe to the examiner to get you in the Army.

 

[LizzieMaine]

Oh, and...

Oh, I bet they'll just sit around and talk about their wives.

 

[Fading Fast]

("Panicked Goimans caught in traffic jam," guffaws Joe. "Fat chance t'ey'd have on Flatbush Aveneh! I'm tellin' ya, t'wawr is gonna be oveh by Chris'mas." Ma pauses while sliding a new box of Krackel bars into place inside the display case, and sighs.)
...

I think the Eagle is saying something devoting this much prominent war-time front-page space to the Dodgers losing again.

Krackel bars are one of my favorites. Whenever you get that assorted bag of minis, the key is to look for the Krackel bars right away.

...

The Eagle Editorialist shrugs at the military order banning all photography by civilians along the shores of southern Long Island. "There is no explanation," the EE observes of the recent edict from the office of Lt. General H. A. Drum, commander of the Eastern Defense Command, "nor should we expect one. The Army has reasons which it deems good and sufficient," and as a result, beachgoers this summer will have to do without the snapshots of "little Johnny shoveling sand in a pail or the girl friend screaming with terror at the approach of a wave."
...

Twitter would not be so understanding.

...
("And this, Mr. Rickey," explains genial Red Barber, "is the microphone. When you have somthing to say, you just lean forward and speak right in here. And if a Dodger player hits a home run, you take one of these cartons of cigarettes right here, and you slide it over the railing, just like this, and down the screen, where the batboy can pick it up and present it to the batter as he crosses the plate." "Just a moment, my boy, just a moment," sputters Mr. Rickey. "Do you mean to tell me we are GIVING these cigarettes away? At no cost at all?" "Well, you see, sir, this is a promotion for the sponsor, and..." "A promotion you say?" Mr. Rickey erupts."BUT AT WHAT EXPENSE? No no no, we'll have none of that. But I'll tell you what we'll do. We'll deduct the cost of each carton from each batter's salary -- but to show our gratitude and goodwill, dear boy, our gratitude and goodwill, we shall merely charge the wholesale price, along with a trifling charge for handling. Yes indeed, that's what we shall do. "Judas Priest," mutters Mr. Barber. "What?" "Nothing, sir.")
...

If this is sarcastic imagination, I applaud you, Lizzie, but I have to ask if this, possibly, is not imagination but really happened? Did he charge the players for the home-run bonus cigarettes? With Rickey, I could see it being true.

...

(I wish Caniff would hire Burma again so she wouldn't have to take on these demeaning side gigs.)
...

"A girl's gotta eat and it was this or a walk-on part on "Bo," and my agent Sandy said doing that strip would be career suicide."

...

Please go away.
...

So Miss Eddington stalked Flynn and, now this is in 1943, her mother cheerfully admits to the newspaper that she let her daughter go on an unchaperoned vacation with a man. Run Errol, run.

...

Yeah, she learned her lesson with Bumley.
...

Dear God, Min, if there is any benefit to being married to the arrantly unattractive and arrantly stupid Andy, it's that you don't have to worry about another woman being interested in him. He offers nothing at all to women.

Oh, and...

Oh, I bet they'll just sit around and talk about their wives.

Even though your first thought is that this isn't a great fit, Welles, when he wanted to, could laugh at himself. I bet this show was good.

 

[LizzieMaine]

I would term today's broadcast booth vignette as "reasonable speculation." Mr. Barber, who devotes a great deal of space in his various writings to Mr. Rickey as one of the two authentic geniuses he ever knew in his life (the other being Laughing Larry), does not specifically mention such an incident. But he also doesn't mention it, either, which is good enough for me.

By the way, I heartily recommend all of Mr. Barber's many books, with three in particular standing out -- "Rhubarb in the Catbird Seat" is a very engaging autobiography, "The Broadcasters" is a cogent analysis of exactly what was wrong with sports broadcasting circa 1970, and is extremely prophetic in retrospect about the direction broadcasting has taken today, and "1947: The Year All Hell Broke Loose in Baseball" is a definitive account of the advent of Jackie Robinson by one who was caught up in the middle of it. Red wrote every single word of every book that ever bore his name, and you can hear his voice as you read them.

As for today's front page, you cant help but see the sarcasm, especially putting that box score full of "who's this guy?" names in such a bold spot. It's a sad testimony to this season that I'm less concerned with the fall of the Dodgers than I am with the fact that the Phillies also lost. Poor Fitz

I do the same thing with the "fun size" Krackel bars. I don't understand why you can't buy a whole bag of nothing but Krackels..

 

[FOXTROT LAMONT]

Flynn was or wasn't in and now stalked by a nineteen year old sweet on him.
And he's a draft deferred wolf no less the lass with his solicitor back in Los Angeles not Mexico City.

If Flynn wanted a whole bag of nothing but Krackels he'd know where to find them.
Man had the sweet tooth no doubts there.

 

[Fading Fast]

I would term today's broadcast booth vignette as "reasonable speculation." Mr. Barber, who devotes a great deal of space in his various writings to Mr. Rickey as one of the two authentic geniuses he ever knew in his life (the other being Laughing Larry), does not specifically mention such an incident. But he also doesn't mention it, either, which is good enough for me.

By the way, I heartily recommend all of Mr. Barber's many books, with three in particular standing out -- "Rhubarb in the Catbird Seat" is a very engaging autobiography, "The Broadcasters" is a cogent analysis of exactly what was wrong with sports broadcasting circa 1970, and is extremely prophetic in retrospect about the direction broadcasting has taken today, and "1947: The Year All Hell Broke Loose in Baseball" is a definitive account of the advent of Jackie Robinson by one who was caught up in the middle of it. Red wrote every single word of every book that ever bore his name, and you can hear his voice as you read them.

As for today's front page, you cant help but see the sarcasm, especially putting that box score full of "who's this guy?" names in such a bold spot. It's a sad testimony to this season that I'm less concerned with the fall of the Dodgers than I am with the fact that the Phillies also lost. Poor Fitz

I do the same thing with the "fun size" Krackel bars. I don't understand why you can't buy a whole bag of nothing but Krackels..

Thank you for all this ⇧.

I think I'll pick up a copy of "Rhubarb in the Catbird Seat" as, as you know, I read a baseball book or two each spring training.

Thought you might enjoy the following, which was my rare Tweet on baseball from this morning:

"Baseball is so much better with the pitch clock, larger bases, limited pickoff attempts (all part of why stealing is back) and infielders in traditional positions. Now, get rid of the ghost runner, cut back to one wild card team (so the regular season means more) and Play Ball!"

 

[LizzieMaine]

("We oughta get bikes," declares Sally, as she places a bowl of Cream of Wheat before an unimpressed Leonora, who immediately drops a spoonful on Stella the Cat. "Y'evveh t'ink about t'at?" contnues Sally. "It's healt'ful. We could ride aroun', save money on subway rides an' trolley rides, an' we c'd lose weight." "I t'ought we was losin' enough weight f'm rationin'," grumbles Joe, gazing at the single sausage lying forlornly on his plate. "It woul'n hoit t'lose a lit'l moeh," maintains Sally, poking at her midriff and eyeing her husband's. "I neveh loint t'ride a bike," sighs Joe. "You neveh did??" gawps Sally. "How'c'n ya neveh loin t'ride a bike?" "Who had a bike in Williamsboig?" protests Joe. "I neveh seen nobody ridin' no bikes. We wanned t' go someplace, we hitched onna back've a truck 'ra wagon 'ra trolley. Hitchin' I know how t'do -- rid'n a bike, neh." "Well'ats it t'en," insists Sally. "We'eh gett'n bikes. I'lll show ya how, an'nen we c'n ride oveh t' Ma's an' back, go t'ru Prosepec' Pawk, get fresh aieh'n sunshine. An' when Leonoreh's old enough t'ride a bike, we'll get one f'r'eh, teach'eh t'ride. People'll say 'heeh come t'em Petrauskases, onneh bikes. What a good lookin' fam'ly. I c'n jus' see it!" "We gonna get one f'r Alice too?" "Oh," ohs Sally. "An' she'll wawnt Krause t'get one too," continues Joe. "An' maybe Mama Ginsboig." "Y't'ink?" "Yeh," nods Joe. "People gonna say 'heeh come t'em Petrauskases onneh bikes. An' awlelm utteh people. Whatta fam'ly. I ask ya!'" "Hmmmmm," hmms Sally, pondering that vision. "Onneh utteh han'," proposes Joe, "I c'd loin us awl t' hitch." "Eatcha breakfas'," sighs Sally. "I did," mourns Joe, poking his middle. "I'm losin' weight awready." )

United States Liberator bombers, in one of the war's longest flights yesterday, struck what might've been a crippling blow to the huge Messerschmitt airplaine works 27 miles south of Vienna, dropping more than 350,000 pounds of bombs on the enormous plant. Opposition was light and all bombers were accounted for in the first mass raid on "Greater Germany" by heavy bombers operating from bases in North Africa. A communique noted that direct hits were scored on factory buildings and hangars and that scores of bursts had been among hundreds of brand-new German fighter planes parked in rows on the ground.

Allied ground forces were believed to be preparing a simultaneous final drive on the Japanese gateway bases of Salamaua and Barioko Harbor following a renewal of concentrated aerial attacks on enemy positions at both ends of the 750-mile Southwest Pacific offensive arc. In what may have been the prelude to the American-Australian push on Salamaua, a strong force of medium and heavy bombers on Friday blasted Japanese gun positions and ammunition dumps in the narrow isthmus area with 177 tons of explosives in the heaviest yet raid under the command of Lt. Gen. George C. Kenney.

(Well, at least it wasn't insurance.)

The men and women of the Brooklyn Civilian Defense Volunteer Office are doing their work standing up, after a local business house, which must remained unnamed, had to reclaim the furniture it had loaned the CDVO after Pearl Harbor. Approximately 25 percent of the office furnishings and equipment at the CDVO's Livingston Street headquarters went back to its owner last week, leading Mrs. Tracy Voorhees, Brooklyn CDVO chairman, to put out an urgent call for desks, chairs, and filing cabinets. Need for cabinets is particularly urgent, with Mrs. Maurice B. Rich, in charge of maintaining the office file of persons available for volunteer work, now operating out of cardboard boxes since her file cabinets were taken away. Anyone with office furniture to loan or donate may contact Mrs. Rich at TRiangle 5-9701.

Homeless men at the municipal rehabilitation camp in Orange County are making an important contribution to the local food supply by canning vegetables. At Camp LaGuardia, homeless men aged 45 to 70 are hard at work, and are already responsible for more than half the present supply of vegetables in the city warehouse. Next year it is predicted that camp residents will turn out more than 500,000 cans of vegetables.

Minus Dolph Camilli and Bobo Newsom, the Dodgers are trailing wistfully behind, but members of the Sanitation Department baseball team are doing very well, thanks -- so well, in fact, that four members are also holding down jobs in war plants while being paid to pay Sanitation Department ball, nearly three years after a scandal erupted over the presence of professional "ringers" on the ball team. The discovery of four new "ringers" holding down $2100 Sanitation Department jobs has come despite an edict by Mayor LaGuardia prohibiting any sanitation worker from holding down outside employment. Two of the latest crop of ringers hold down full-time jobs at the Sullivan Dry Dock & Repair Corporation, while one works part-time at Bendix, and the fourth is employed at the Arma plant in Flushing. The latter two also play for the ball teams operated by their respective companies.

(Read any good books lately?)

New York State's need for war workers will increase to the tune of 300,000 before the year's end, predicts Mrs. Anna M. Rosenberg, regional director of the War Manpower Commission. That is a minimum figure, she points out, which can expect to increase as a result of further need by the Armed Forces for replacements of casualties and the expansion of overseas battle fronts. In New York City alone, Mrs. Rosenberg stressed, more than 30,000 war jobs are presently open, jobs requiring no special skills. Applicants for these jobs may sign up at the United States Employment Service offices at 205 Schermerhorn Street in Brooklyn and 29-27 41st Avenue in Long Island City.

In San Diego, California the head of the local USO and Better Business Bureau was arrested for wandering the streets dressed as a character from Gilbert and Sullivan's "Mikado." George A. Scott told police he was on his way home from a costume party dressed as "The Lord High Executioner" when neighbors spotted him and phoned police to report "a Japanese nosing around an air raid shelter."

High school attendance in New York City will drop precipitously when classes resume this fall, with over 65,000 boys and girls dropping out of school to go to work. The Board of Education reported this week that the demand for working papers has reached "an unprecedented number" due to the demand for war workers.

The Eagle Editorialist takes note of the overwhelming support for a fourth term for President Roosevelt revealed by the Eagle's borough-wide straw poll. The EE notes that no one could doubt that if Mr. Roosevelt runs again that he will again carry Brooklyn, given his long history of local support -- but the size of his plurality bears notice, with no other candidate of any party even approaching his level of support.

("Sally do'wanna go't' game," sighs Alice, as she watches Krause the Super sweeping the sidewalk. "She's boycott'n. I got t'ickets, t'ough. You wanna go?" "Neh," grunts Krause. "How 'bout we go see a movie?" suggests Alice. "Mission 't Moscow's' playin' at t' Dykeh!" "Neh," replies Krause. "Coney Islan's nice," Alice offers. "Neh," repeats Krause. "You eveh t'ink a' goin' dancin'?" pleads Alice. "Sal says it's swell." Krause pauses for a moment, his mind visbily cogitating before he replies, yet again, "Neh." "Well izzeh ANYT'ING y'wanna do?" erupts Alice. "Yeh," nods Krause. "Oh," sighs Alice. "Yeh," repeats Krause. "I wanna sweep t' stoop. Shove oveh.")

(Mountain lion wrestling, whitewater rafting, cliff climbing -- who would have thought "extreme sports" began with Red Ryder?)

(With that physique? Of course he'd bounce back!)

("No," says Miss Morley, "I've got to stay home and sharpen my lapels."

(Once when I was eight, I spent an entire rainy afternoon drawing moustaches on every face in the Sears catalog, because, I mean, why not? And oh, EXTINCT GIANT ARMADILLOES! EXTINCT GIANT ARMADILLOES! EXTINCT GIANT ARMADILLOES!)

("Don't be a goon?" I'm afraid that ship has sailed. And poor poor Burma, that it should come to this. Hey kid, go see Bushmiller, I bet he could get you into "Fritzi Ritz.")

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

Yeah, there's a lot more to this story.

Well, at least there's no Lord High Executioner!

"HEY TRACY!" Just another day's work.

Tsk, Mr. Gray, so passive-aggressive...

Ahhhh, it's probably counterfeit.

Good job, Majerkurth.

Gentlemen, I believe you've met Lieutenant Fullcharge.

POINT OF ORDER! Isn't Stretch married to Cindy's daughter? Shouldn't she be saying "MY SON-IN-LAW" instead of "JACK'S KID BROTHER?" Or maybe this isn't the real Cindy at all!

Corky's fifteen and Judy's eight. So, really, it's all right on schedule.

"Hmph!" sneers Ma Sweeney. "Involvin' a CHOILD! The VERY IDEA!"

 

[PrivateEye]

"Baseball is so much better with the pitch clock, larger bases, limited pickoff attempts (all part of why stealing is back) and infielders in traditional positions. Now, get rid of the ghost runner, cut back to one wild card team (so the regular season means more) and Play Ball!"

The pitch clock has saved baseball. It's a shame it became necessary, but when I find myself flipping channels between pitches, clearly there's a problem.

 

[Fading Fast]

...

Minus Dolph Camilli and Bobo Newsom, the Dodgers are trailing wistfully behind, but members of the Sanitation Department baseball team are doing very well, thanks -- so well, in fact, that four members are also holding down jobs in war plants while being paid to pay Sanitation Department ball, nearly three years after a scandal erupted over the presence of professional "ringers" on the ball team. The discovery of four new "ringers" holding down $2100 Sanitation Department jobs has come despite an edict by Mayor LaGuardia prohibiting any sanitation worker from holding down outside employment. Two of the latest crop of ringers hold down full-time jobs at the Sullivan Dry Dock & Repair Corporation, while one works part-time at Bendix, and the fourth is employed at the Arma plant in Flushing. The latter two also play for the ball teams operated by their respective companies.
...

Why is there so much cheating in a Sanitation Department baseball league? What is at stake? I played in a Wall St. league for a few years and we never cheated. Other than who bought beers after the game and bragging rights, there wasn't much on the line.

...

("Sally do'wanna go't' game," sighs Alice, as she watches Krause the Super sweeping the sidewalk. "She's boycott'n. I got t'ickets, t'ough. You wanna go?" "Neh," grunts Krause. "How 'bout we go see a movie?" suggests Alice. "Mission 't Moscow's' playin' at t' Dykeh!" "Neh," replies Krause. "Coney Islan's nice," Alice offers. "Neh," repeats Krause. "You eveh t'ink a' goin' dancin'?" pleads Alice. "Sal says it's swell." Krause pauses for a moment, his mind visbily cogitating before he replies, yet again, "Neh." "Well izzeh ANYT'ING y'wanna do?" erupts Alice. "Yeh," nods Krause. "Oh," sighs Alice. "Yeh," repeats Krause. "I wanna sweep t' stoop. Shove oveh.")
...

I would think if Alice had tickets they'd go to the game as you simply didn't waste a ticket in that era.

The only thing worse than 2023 Yankee baseball is 1943 Dodgers baseball. The Yankees are 14 games out, but because there are sixty-three wildcard spots, they are only 3 or 4 games out of the last wildcard position. It's such garbage and makes the regular season feel fake. You should have to earn a playoff spot, not slink in on math.

...

(With that physique? Of course he'd bounce back!)
...

Even if only half the Churchill stories are true - and love him or hate him - the guy did lead an incredible life and was one of the true force-of-nature personalities of all times.

...

("Don't be a goon?" I'm afraid that ship has sailed. And poor poor Burma, that it should come to this. Hey kid, go see Bushmiller, I bet he could get you into "Fritzi Ritz.")

"I wanted a stunt double to take that slap, but Sandy, my agent, said it would be better for my career to show that I'm devoted to my craft and to take the slap myself. He said, as an actor himself, he rarely uses stunt doubles because it's always about the scene and not himself. It's great to have a talented, accomplished and fearless actor as an agent. I'm sure it had nothing to do with my fee and, thus Sandy's cut, being higher if they don't have to hire stunt doubles."

...

Tsk, Mr. Gray, so passive-aggressive...
...

"Warbucks, Spike here...I'm fine and so is the wife, thank you... Annie and the dog are good too, but you didn't tell me the kid's like living with your own personal district attorney with a bug up his butt all the time. The kid grills me about everything...No, I'd say it's more than curiosity...The dog? He's fine, a little timid, especially for a farm dog, but I guess city life has sissified him."

 

[FOXTROT LAMONT]

Taffy isn't an easy pull. Bye the bye bits and bobs Patrick whom had guilt over Taffy's endangerment seems
struck by Cupid's arrow no less.

 

[Fading Fast]

Taffy isn't an easy pull. Bye the bye bits and bobs Patrick whom had guilt over Taffy's endangerment seems
struck by Cupid's arrow no less.

That's a cute turn of phrase. The entire scene felt awkward and forced - not up to Caniff's standards. There would have been a lot more genuine emotion pouring out on both sides. Yes, war; yes, battle, but still, her matter-of-fact shrug and their controlled surprise didn't fit the moment.

 

[FOXTROT LAMONT]

That's a cute turn of phrase. The entire scene felt awkward and forced - not up to Caniff's standards. There would have been a lot more genuine emotion pouring out on both sides. Yes, war; yes, battle, but still, her matter-of-fact shrug and their controlled surprise didn't fit the moment.

All the more so here Fast. Mr Caniff wields a sharp pen with deft touch, simmers the tea after boil before pouring.
Await Fast for Patrick's smote swiftly, and will surely speak to his aforementioned guilt.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Sarrry, Joseph, so sarry me boy," sputters Ma Sweeney, rushing to wipe up the egg cream she has just spilled on the counter. "S'awright," dismisses Joe. "Jeez, ya noivous about sump'n? Lookitcha shakin'.!" "Oh, no nothing at all," Ma jitters. "LEONORA! Put down those fool nickels! Oh, no, naaaaathin' at all!" As Ma's dishrag flicks in a frenzy about the countertop, Hops Gaffney enters, his eyes darting swiftly away from Joe as he steps briskly to the counter and slips Ma a folded bit of paper and just as briskly exits. "OH NO," erupts Ma. "Whaswrong?" queries Joe. "Ohhhhh naaathin, at all, me boy naaaathin' at all," exhales Ma, as she beckons toward the magazine rack, where Jimmy Leary is loitering behind a copy of "Speed Detective." Jimmy hastens to the counter, Ma extends herself on tiptoe to whisper sharply in his ear, his ruddy features blanch, and he hustles out the door. "Whaswrong?" repeats Joe. "Ohhhhh," insists Ma from behind a forced grin. "Naaaaaathin' at allll.")

One hundred and twenty retail meat and poultry dealers stand summoned to appear in Magistrate's Court or before OPA Hearing Commissioners this week as the Office of Price Admininstration continues its crackdown on ceiling price violations. Beginning this Friday, 100 meat dealers from the Rockaways, Coney Island, Brighton, and Long Beach resort areas, the primary target of the present enforcement drive, will appear before OPA suspension hearings at the agency's headquarters in the Empire State Building, and twenty poultry sellers are scheduled to appear before magistrates next week. The charges follow complaints from beach-resort residents that they were paying overcharges of up to 7 cents a pound for poultry and up to 25 cents a pound for meat. Three hundred retail meat outlets, both kosher and non-kosher, were visited by OPA agents last week , and along with the overcharges, those inspectors found evidence that twenty five of the butchers cited for violations of ceiling-price regulations were also accepting red ration stamps not yet designated as valid.

Forty-eight Japanese planes were shot down in the Southern Pacific area over the weekend as Allied bombers braved bad weather to make another heavy raid on Salamaua, it was announced today. American fighters brought down 22 Zeros and 12 dive bombers while losing only two planes in a series of dogfights from Kahill Airdrome on Bougainville in the Northern Solomons to Velle Lavella in the central New Georgia group.

A 30 percent reduction in the availability of newsprint looms for 1944 unless the pulpwood industry and the governments of the United States and Canada are successful in efforts to increase production, it was agreed today by the Boren-Hallock Subcommittee investigating the present shortage of pulpwood for paper production. That 30 percent cut would be on top of the 10 percent cut in shipments of newsprint already imposed on newspaper and magazine publishers in the United States.

Justice Department officials said today that New York state authorities could have Louis "Lepke" Buchalter once it is definitely established that he is to be executed. One official confirmed that Attorney General Francis Biddle will do "everything in his power" to prevent Buchalter from escaping the remaining portion of his fourteen-year sentence on a Federal narcotics conviction unless it is positive that, by turning him over to New York authorities, he will face death in the electric chair. Buchalter has already appealed to Governor Dewey for commutation of his death sentence for the 1936 murder of Brownsville candy-store man Joseph Rosen, and should he be released by the state and should the Governor commute the death sentence, Buchalter would no longer be liable for the rest of his Federal sentence. Buchalter can only be turned over to New York authorities for execution if the President pardons him for the narcotics conviction. Acting Kings County District Attorney Thomas C. Hughes has accused Federal authorities, and Attorney General Biddle in particular, of balking New York's efforts to execute Buchalter.

("He does too look like Jawn Gawrfield," insists Sally. "Inna right light, f'm t'right angle. I mean'ney got t'same nose." "Hmmm," hmms Alice, visualizing Joe's profile. "Nah," she finally proclaims. "I don' see it. Jawn Gawrfield's nose goes t'is way, an' Joe's nose goes t'at way." "Well," declares Sally, "it *useta* go t'same way, t'illat time he wawked inta t'at pole downa subway. B'sides, it ain' jus' t'nose, it's, you know, t' whole pitcheh." "Joe wasn' neveh a fighteh, t'ough," queries Alice. "Was he?" "Nah," replies Sally. "But he did useta get bumped aroun' a bit dancin'. Y'gotta have a lotta space t'do t' Big Apple, y'know, an', it's like t'ey say, sometimes his reach kin'a exceeded 'is grasp." "Krause has t'same problem," nods Alice. "Big moves?" "No, shawrt arms.")

(I'd gladly pay $10 for an allergy electric mask. Or even $15. Make it $20.)

The Eagle Editorialist reminds readers that even if you aren't hearing much about salvage drives right now that doesn't mean the need for waste paper, tin cans, and fats has at all abated. The EE sees this lack of awareness of the present situation not so much as overconfidence that all is going well with the war, but more to the "perversely human habit of getting tired of doing something unless the necessity for doing it is drummed into our heads pretty constantly."

("He read that article in Popular Mechanics about robots doing all our work, and he's already investing in battery stocks!")

A 104-year-old resident of the Bronx with fifteen grandsons serving in the Armed Forces of the United Nations died at his home yesterday, three years after he survived being run over by a trolley. Abraham Pinkofsky never fully recovered from injuries sustained in that accident. Three of his grandsons have died fighting against the Nazis for the Red Army in Russia, while another was decorated for valor by the Soviet Government for bringing down several German planes while flying for the Red Air Force. Nine other grandsons are fighting in the United States Army. Mr. Pinkofsky is survived by four daughters, two sons, thirty grandchildren, and forty great-grandchildren.

("I told them I would do big things for this ball club, big things indeed," declares Mr. Rickey, "and I have done just as I promised! This Mr. Schultz is six feet six inches in height! Mr. Camilli, you recall, was a mere five-feet-ten. That is, I call to your attention, a net gain, my dear, of a full eight inches. A full eight inches!" "Yes dear," sighs Mrs. Rickey. "You see the shrewdness of the deal, my dear, the shrewedness of the deal? Why, MacPhail paid $75,000 for Mr. Camilli. That's over $1040 an inch, I tell you! $1040 an inch! But I have acquired Mr. Schultz at a bargain price, mind you, of just $512 an inch. That is VALUE, my dear, that is a net savings to the stockholders of the Brooklyn Ball Club of $528 an inch!" "Have some lemonade, dear," offers Mrs. Rickey. "Why, MacPhail on his best day," smirks Mr. Rickey, "never saved the stockholders $528 an inch!" )

("Be-Junior??")

(Look, why not just switch to Sanka?)

(That's just Connie and Big Stoop coming to mess you up. BURMA'S STILL GOT FRIENDS!)

("PAW! SUPPER"S HERE! AND NO RED POINTS!")

("What??? You told me I should start collecting something!")

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

Falling out windows, falling in pools. These are tough times to be an heiress.

"Marry in haste..."

"Oh well," says Pat. "I was getting tired of this beard anyway."

"Oh." "What?" "Just 'oh.'"

That's what happens when you don't insist on hardwood floors.

You're all making this much too complicated.

"And what's worse, they chewed all hell out of my ankles!"

Come now, Miss Nina C. Prissypants, you went to high school with her.

"I wish he'd toss in Willie next, we need a fourth for bridge!"

"Orson?"

 

[Fading Fast]

("Sarrry, Joseph, so sarry me boy," sputters Ma Sweeney, rushing to wipe up the egg cream she has just spilled on the counter. "S'awright," dismisses Joe. "Jeez, ya noivous about sump'n? Lookitcha shakin'.!" "Oh, no nothing at all," Ma jitters. "LEONORA! Put down those fool nickels! Oh, no, naaaaathin' at all!" As Ma's dishrag flicks in a frenzy about the countertop, Hops Gaffney enters, his eyes darting swiftly away from Joe as he steps briskly to the counter and slips Ma a folded bit of paper and just as briskly exits. "OH NO," erupts Ma. "Whaswrong?" queries Joe. "Ohhhhh naaathin, at all, me boy naaaathin' at all," exhales Ma, as she beckons toward the magazine rack, where Jimmy Leary is loitering behind a copy of "Speed Detective." Jimmy hastens to the counter, Ma extends herself on tiptoe to whisper sharply in his ear, his ruddy features blanch, and he hustles out the door. "Whaswrong?" repeats Joe. "Ohhhhh," insists Ma from behind a forced grin. "Naaaaaathin' at allll.")
...

This new strip works with almost no lead time, kudos to its writer.

...

The Eagle Editorialist reminds readers that even if you aren't hearing much about salvage drives right now that doesn't mean the need for waste paper, tin cans, and fats has at all abated. The EE sees this lack of awareness of the present situation not so much as overconfidence that all is going well with the war, but more to the "perversely human habit of getting tired of doing something unless the necessity for doing it is drummed into our heads pretty constantly."
...

And so explains the struggle to maintain a daily routine of flossing.

...
("I told them I would do big things for this ball club, big things indeed," declares Mr. Rickey, "and I have done just as I promised! This Mr. Schultz is six feet six inches in height! Mr. Camilli, you recall, was a mere five-feet-ten. That is, I call to your attention, a net gain, my dear, of a full eight inches. A full eight inches!" "Yes dear," sighs Mrs. Rickey. "You see the shrewdness of the deal, my dear, the shrewedness of the deal? Why, MacPhail paid $75,000 for Mr. Camilli. That's over $1040 an inch, I tell you! $1040 an inch! But I have acquired Mr. Schultz at a bargain price, mind you, of just $512 an inch. That is VALUE, my dear, that is a net savings to the stockholders of the Brooklyn Ball Club of $528 an inch!" "Have some lemonade, dear," offers Mrs. Rickey. "Why, MacPhail on his best day," smirks Mr. Rickey, "never saved the stockholders $528 an inch!" )
...

"A gain of eight inches! Fantastic, Dear, that's what you, uh, we've always needed....What?...Oh, a new player. [lets out a heavy sigh] That nice too, I guess...What?...Oh, it's great, Dear. I'm going into the kitchen for a moment."

...

"Oh." "What?" "Just 'oh.'"
...

After winning a face-off with the German Navy, defeating a petty, corrupt bureaucrat is going to be quite a comedown.

...

Come now, Miss Nina C. Prissypants, you went to high school with her.
...

It takes a little time to learn the lesson, but this is a great example of why you should never give unsolicited advice no matter how well intentioned.

 

[FOXTROT LAMONT]

I like that cute brunette lass Jessica. She reminds meself of June Palmer.