The Era -- Day By Day

[Harp]

Octogenarian Charles F Ayer's marriage to his 40 year old secretary seems ridiculous, however, Russian Foreign Secretary Sergi Lavrov reportedly has an eighteen year old mistress.
Nice work if you can get it... as a septuagenarian, I stand open-mouth gasp stricken with
envy.

Ayer is brother in law to Gen George S Patton. When in college, a history professor recounted a War College instructorial sojourn when he discussed a problem with fellow visiting professor Martin Blumenthal, editor of The Patton Papers. My prof was penning a bio on American Ranger commander William O Darby, who early in his career had divorced his unfaithful wife.
The prof had found Darby's last surviving relative, a sister, whom had given permission to access the late Ranger's military records. When he had accumulated a file ranging Darby's birth certificate to a mortuary toe tag zerox, Darby's ex wife called his War College office asking to be omitted from her former husband's story. She had remarried and had been a faithful wife; however, her second husband never knew about her marriage to Darby. She feared its print revelation would ruin her life. Prof remarked situation to Blumenthal who revealed Patton had had an affair with his niece, another Ayer; which the Patton family wished to keep a family secret. So, Blumenthal complied, advising my prof to do the same.
When I first met my prof inside his campus office, I mentioned having read his book on Darby. We had also both passed through the 12th Special Forces at different times, so he
expanded on the story, admitting to my question as to sparse personal information given
in his Darby book, with no mention of matrimony. Darby seemed to have lived a bachelorhood rather unique and of singular note, which I thought somewhat odd. I had also read Blumenthal's Patton Papers, so was acquainted with the background. George and his niece having a fling added an intriguing facet to Patton.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Whoy ain'chee gett'n ye unifarrrm on?" snickers Ma. "A million people's wait'n farr a look at'chee kneecaps." "Th' Frindley Soons'a St. Patrick will haftarr get alaaang withoot me," sighs Uncle Frank. "Oi got to get oovar t'th' warehoose, clean oop that mess Jimmy made, an' thin his waaarship Saaaaaaargeant Pincus waants me t' goo oovar th' stock an' make a list'a ivvrything th' boys used to build th' new still. Th' blooody poirate's goona charge me -- an' RETAIL yet! Oi ask yee..." "Have ye talked t' James yet?" scowls Ma. "Oi thaat'chee was goin' t' rap soom sense inta--" "Oi will, oi will," snaps Uncle Frank. "Oi joost gaaat'ta get me bearin's farrrst. Oi ain't even MET th' wooman yet. A thing loike this, ye waant t' attack with finesse..." "Oi doon't knoo what scheme ye be plannin'," glowers Ma, "boot it bettar waaark. This whool thing smells t' hoigh heav'n. A wooman loike that ain't baaatherin' with noo caboog loike him 'less tharr's a mootive, an'nit's nivvar a good woon." "'Isabel,'" scowls Uncle Frank. "Oi nivvar loiked that name. Oi knew an Isabel woonce, a laaang toime ago..." "Oi doon't care noothin' boot noon'a that," dismisses Ma. "Oi care abooot th' here an' now, an' Oi wan'chee t' get oota HERE an' do soomthin' aboot it NOW. Arrrrr --OI will." "Oi will, joost gimme toime," growls Uncle Frank, finishing his two-cents-plain, and clamping his hat in place. "Oh," he adds, his hand on the doorlatch. "Tharr's NOOTHIN' wraaang with me kneecaps...")

("Hey," heys Bink Scanlan, wandering into Sergeant Solly's Surplus. "Huh," huhs Solly, looking up from a War Assets Corporation listing. "Look who's heeh." "Yeh," sighs Bink, riffling idly thru a bin of knit Army caps. "Heh, I betcha looked like a monkey in one'a t'ese t'ings witcha eehs stickin' out." "Hmph," hmphs Solly, returning to his papers. "T' ol' lady don' wan' me hangin' roun'na stoeh," sighs Bink. "She says it ain' fittin' f' a woman in'eh confinemen', an' I need t' stay upstaiehs." "Zatso?" replies Solly, without looking up. "Yeh," nods Bink. "So I t'ought I'd come oveh'reeh instead." "Y'neveh did do whatcha was tol'," affirms Solly. "No reason t'stawrt now," asserts Bink, trying on one of the caps. "Nah," she continues, pulling at the sides of the cap. "No way t'ese flaps'll coveh T'EM eehs." Solly looks up, mutters an indistinct "hmph," and returns to his work. "Not'eh coupla' weeks," exhales Bink. "an' I still ain' gotta name f'rit." She pulls off the cap and tosses it back into the bin. Solly looks up, squinting in her direction. He considers a comment, but instead issues another "hmph," and glares at his paperwork...)

("And by the way -- if ya gonna adjust t'civilian life, then ADJUST!")

(There is no time of the year so hopeful as the third week of March...)

(Have you checked with the gas station down the street?)

(Zetta ain't havin' it.)

(Jeez, Janie, can't you even take your lunch hour off???)

(Don't you have work to do?)

(Aw, every cat says that.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

Page Four as it was meant to be!

Tick tick tick tick tick tick tick...

That's the most self-satisfied dog I've ever seen.

AND PUT DOWN THAT GAS SIPHON!

Who is "G. W." and why is he stealing jokes from "It Pays To Be Ignorant?"

If it *is* the DL, she needs to speak to this guy about his conspicuous eyewear.

OK, kid, you've got two more shots. Hope you've got a plan to go with them.

Yes, by all means let's keep our priorities straight.

"We have fun. They make sure we have fun."

"Of course, there are deductions for fees and damages..."

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Worker...

Strange bedfellows.

 

[Fading Fast]

"Tharr's NOOTHIN' wraaang with me kneecaps..."

For him to come back to that after that long conversation tells you Ma scored a direct hit on his vanity.

I love that Solly is taking no prisoners with Frank on this. Solly knows he has to draw a hard line now.

Separately, how historically interesting is it that Iran, Moscow, and oil are all page-one headlines 80 years ago today.

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

There is no time of the year so hopeful as the third week of March...



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

Jeez, Janie, can't you even take your lunch hour off???

"You don't earn enough to buy a fur being a typical worker bee." — JA

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

Page Four as it was meant to be!

God yes. And there's something more to that $20,000 tax payment story. Nobody could be that stupid otherwise. If he's that honest, he wouldn't have been playing in an illegal game in the first place.

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

Strange bedfellows.

Goring has a point, but there's also the "did you start the all out war or are you trying to survive it" perspective, which has validity too.

 

[Harp]

...Nyssa sure has Jeff in a tizzy. Milt Caniff should read Mary Worth.

Sorrel ''Honey'' Frances is a slick thief robbing children while parents are abstentia.

Nice **** game story. The ice cubes roll snake eye poison.

Bourne and Colgate are in a fix, but Bourne seems mentally incapacitated and in need
of legal guardianship and family estate severance. The estate is imperiled outside trusteeship.

I've yet to see the film, Goering, however, his defense against prosecutor Jackson
with recourse to Churchill is telling admission his untenable defense. He knew in the end
he would lose. Rumor has it his American guard slipped him the cyanide capsule he used
to ******* escape the American rope awaiting him.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("I hope it don' rain," sighs Sally., gazing into 63rd Street as Willie shows Leonora and Lottie Schreibstein his folding bicycle. "Leonoreh'll come in awl muddy, an' it's like hosin' down a dawg t'get'eh clean." "Pooeh Willie," chuckles Joe. "Can't get t' t'ing t'stay unfolded. HEY! YA GOTTA LATCH IT!" "I hope she don' -- LEONOREH! DON'CHOO RIDE'AT T'ING INNA STREET!" "She can't hear ya, Sal," observes Joe. "She's facin''a wrawng way. HEY! WILLIE! TELL'EH T'STAY AWNA SIDEWAWK!" "I'm glad she c'n ride awn it at awll," sighs Sally. "Docteh Glass said she might have trouble wit'eh balance." "I t'ink she's hearin' betteh," shrugs Joe. "She's gonna heeh betteh." "Yeh," nods Sally. "Speakin' a heahrin', you heeh'ranyt'ing moeh 'bout Jimmy? Has 'ee been inna stoeh?" "I seen 'im yestehday," snickers Joe. "Come in dressed up likee was sellin' insurance. Even hadda hankie comin' out'v'is coat, all folded up in pernts." "Who'd a t'ought," exhales Sally, "t'at t'at fathead, t' fattest headed of AWL fatheads, would en' up marryin' a rich widdeh an' livin' in Tuckahoe." "I neveh been'eh," replies Joe. "Izzit ritzy?" "Nah," nahs Sally. "It's f' t''kin'a people figyeh t' Heights is too rough. But still, t' t'ink of Jimmy gettin' married at AWL..." "Jus' goes t' show," nods Joe. "Even'a people y'd neveh t'ink could eveh fin' anybody, maybe t'ey will..." Sally glances out at her daughter, and then her husband. '"Yeh," she nods. "Guess ya right...")

("I wondeh what it's like t'have a fuh coat," sighs Bink Scanlan. "T'at widdeh Jimmy married come in'eeh wit' one looked like she skun it awffa grizzly beah." "Eh," ehs Rosa Capiello, stirring her egg cream with her straw. "You see t'em kin'a coats a dime a dozen down at ol' man Felcheh's secon' han' place. He gets awleeze coats in t'at's awl mangy, an'ee cuts out t' good pawrts an' sews'm t'get'eh an'nen sells'm t' dames a't's frontin'. You know, putt'n uppa front." "She don'need t'put up no front," snickers Bink. "She's got plennya front t'go aroun'." "Ix-nay on th' acks-cray," warns Rosa, flicking her eye toward the door, as it jingles open with a puff of cologne, and Jimmy Leary, in immaculate charcoal gray, swanks toward the counter. "I beg yaaaawr pawrdon," he interrupts, jutting his jaw and clenching his teeth as he touches the brim of his homburg. "Might I poichase a packet a' Fat-ee-mas." Bink's eyes narrow, and Rosa muffles a laugh in her napkin. Bink reaches for the cigarettes and places them carefully on the counter. "T'em kind is twenny cents," she warns. "Of cawrrrrse," acknowledges Jimmy. He rummages in his pocket, produces nothing, but picks up the pack nonetheless. "Ya may bill me," he enunciates, starting for the door. "Ta." "Gawdawmighty," exhales Rosa...)

("Hmph," hmphs Alice, sneering at the photo of the man who did her wrong. "Hey Siddy," she suggests. "How 'bout t'night, we have pot roast!" "Yeh!" chuckles Krause, because she told him all about it...)

(Even Tracy's villians never thought of this trick.)

(Those AC-DC sets are dangerous.)

(Ernie, you're a strange strange man.)

(Ann Sheridan? Is she still in the league?)

(Well, at least it's something new...)

(Mr. Fadiman will overlook your misuse of the singular when you should have used the plural. But just this once.)

(Why don't they run this strip on Page Four?)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

Get it out of your system now, kid, because the life before you offers few opportunities to "boomps-a-daisy."

Let's see if Senator Bibb can "boomps-a-daisy."

Um.

Mr. Gray, quoting the Apocrypha? I wonder what his views are on the Masoretic text?

Shouldn't that have been the FIRST thing you checked, instead of the last?

Suffering builds character.

Well, at least the "One Meat Ball" fad is over.

Let's dance.

You've got to admire the ingenuity.

There's a lesson here, but why bother to learn it?

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Worker...

Imagine that.

 

[Fading Fast]

"Come in dressed up likee was sellin' insurance. Even hadda hankie comin' out'v'is coat, all folded up in pernts."



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

Ernie, you're a strange strange man.

Yes he is, very strange.

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

Get it out of your system now, kid, because the life before you offers few opportunities to "boomps-a-daisy."

It will be her version of Sally's Roseland Ballroom memories.

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

Um.

WTF, I got nuddin'

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

Dang, she's still got it.

 

[Harp]

Herman Michaeloff has recourse against 17 yr old Larry Fisher for the tort of negligence.
Fisher's parents are responsible for minor child tortious claim.

Ms Ingebord Fischer's slaying GI John Chinchar, absent pregnancy, might avail passion;
however this particular defense course is circumstantially fragile for Fraulein Fischer. And, she is to be tried by a military court under US Army of Occupation, which rests upon the UCMJ,
Uniform Code of Military Justice. Military justice is to justice what military music is to music.

I believe Terry ought to be opting discharge, but if the Dragon Gal has an interest in him,
hopefully it will prove salacious for the soldier. One hell of a woman, she most definitely is.

And last but certainly not least, 13 yr old Bronislaw Stalicia has riparian landing status
with GI sponsorship. Consequently, his admittance to the United States looks good.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("I was up half t' night," sighs Sally, resting her head against the seat back, "goin' t'ru Leonoreh's baby stuff f' Bink Scanlan. I f'got how much of it was MY baby stuff. Ma neveh t'rows nut'n away..." "You heeh'rif she come up wit' a name yet?" queries Alice. "I dunno," sighs Sally. "She don' seem t' caeh one way'ra not'eh." "I awrways t'ought if I'd had a baby," relates Alice, "I'd a called it afteh t'ose colehed people t'at helped me out afteh'r I run away fr'm t' sistehs. But it's a funny t'ing, I neveh knew t'eh names. T'ey'd gimme food an' blankets, but I neveh knew t'eh names. I useteh cawl'm Misteh an' Missis, but I guess t'ose wouldn' make very good names f'ra baby." "We named Leonoreh afteh Durocheh, an' my Ma," notes Sally. "I guess maybe we shoulda waited till afteh t' Woil' Series." "I wondeh what's gonna happ'n wit'eh?" sighs Alice. "She ain't got t' sense to put milk onneh'rown cereal," scoffs Sally, "let alone feed a baby. Ma's prob'ly gonna end up doin' mosta t' woik." "I awrways wisht I coulda had a baby," laments Alice. "Why don'cha?" suggests Sally. "I'm foehty-one," reminds Alice. "Leas' I t'ink I am. T'ey said I was about two when'ney foun' me awna Fulton Street L, an'nat was 1907." "I hoida women'at ol' havin' babies," argues Sally. "On Page Foeh maybe," dismisses Alice, as the train rolls on toward home....)

("T'at was a pretty good day," declares Joe, turning off the fire at the grill and preparing to clean up for the night. "We'eh fin'ly stawrt'n t' do a good business." "Yarr gainin' weight, Joseph," chuckles Ma. "Ye look whatchee caahl 'prosp'rous.'" "Ahhh," laughs Joe. "T'at's jus' from eat'nem leftovehs." "Nivarrth'less," nods Ma, "yaaar doin' aaahlroit farr yeself." "F'now," shrugs Joe. "If t'ez one t'ing I know, it's y'can neveh tell. Why..." But his statement is interrupted by the door jingling open. "Is Mr. Leary about?" queries the former Isabel Ten Eyck. "Ain't married a week," snickers Ma, "an' ye aaahlriddy misplaced 'im?" "I don't mean James," smiles the newlywed. "Is -- Mister -- Leary about? His father." Ma's eyes narrow, and Joe stops scraping the grill. "Who waaaants t' knoo?" replies Ma, very deliberately. "An old friend," replies the visitor, her eyes glittering...)

("Oi thought'chee said," sniffs Uncle Frank, "ye was goin' t'get us soom Jeeps." "I'd settle f'jus' one," growls Solly. "Anyt'ing t'get ridda t'at rotten truck." "It AIN'T a rotten troock," snaps Uncle Frank. "That troock has stood me thick an' thin farrr twenny-two yearrs, an' Oi see noo need t'..." But the argument draws up short as Joe bursts into the Sergeant Solly's Surplus office. "Unc'a Frank," he puffs. "Y'betteh get back nex' dooeh." "What's this noo?" gapes Uncle Frank. "C'mon," Joe hurries. "Befoeh somebody gets kilt....")

("And make sure it's that hotel with the real salt water pool!")

("Shuffled out to cover second?" Mr. Burr doesn't seem to be embracing the changing times.)

(The jokes write themselves.)

(Wholesome small town life.)

(When radio directors go bad.)

(Aw, get a room, or clear off the couch.)

(LISTEN TO KITTY SHE KNOWS YOU BETTER THAN YOU DO)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

Little Gloria, Happy At Last...

Uncle Frank has all his own teeth. For now.

You never know...

"Come now, child -- we must offer the first fruits of the day's harvest to Molech."

Well, somebody's still going to pay for those sheets.

At least it's not "Cement Mixer, Put-ti Put-ti..."

Nice work, gooseface.

There's still time to find a new partner. What's Tops doing these days?

Careful where you drop those ashes...

That's actually a pretty good idea when you consider how much he could make hustling the customers...

 

[LizzieMaine]

And also...

It's nice to see that Tommy Brown's old uniforms aren't going to waste.

 

[Fading Fast]

"Who waaaants t' knoo?" replies Ma, very deliberately. "An old friend," replies the visitor, her eyes glittering...

This should get interesting.

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

"Y'betteh get back nex' dooeh." "What's this noo?" gapes Uncle Frank. "C'mon," Joe hurries. "Befoeh somebody gets kilt...."

And it just did.

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

Uncle Frank has all his own teeth. For now.

Reason #10,000 why Frank should just swallow his pride and work with Solly. His life would be so much easier.

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

There's still time to find a new partner. What's Tops doing these days?

Congenitally unfit.

 

[Harp]

Gloria Vanderbilt's 1945 $4,000,000 inheritance put towards charity is over $92,000,000
equivalence today's peso. I inherited the flag off my father's casket and a shaving mug
when I was eleven, and have always thought myself the more better off having an uphill
climb learning experience. Gloria seems unusually well grounded for affluently raised.

Captured suspect William Perkins, whose accomplice, John Reilly was slain by New York
State police after the Gallant couple were assaulted and robbed is eligible for Felony Murder
prosecution, Murder One. A twenty year old GI, Perkins will learn the hard way at Singsong
that crime doesn't pay.

And Eamon De Valera, ''Dev,'' who had Michael Collins killed and kept Ireland neutral during
the Second World War is busily attending repair of his consequence postwar reputation.
Churchill particularly despised him. And, presumably he sat in the first pew at Cardinal Glennon's funeral mass in Dublin. ******* played both sides of the aisle when such suited
him and likely prayed to Lucifer occasionally. He was taken prisoner during the Easter Uprising, but his American citizenship and other circumstance cut the firing squad and quicklime graves meted Pearse and the others. The British also forgot their Machiavelli and his dictum to do the cruel first and fast, drawing out the executions inexorably to public consternation. So the dice rolled for Dev. Later, he tried the weasel after Collins.
Padraig didn't drive all the snakes out of Ireland.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Hoo many toimes do Oi have t' tell ye?" wails Uncle Frank. "It was fifty yarrrs agoo!" "Hoo toime flies," scowls Ma, shoving a plate of toast toward her husband. "I didn't knoo you yet," pleads Uncle Frank. "Oi didn't ivven knoo Bridget yet! Oi was noothin' boot a foolish yoong gedjamaan 'a sivinteen, sowin' me woild oats!" "Seems loike'yee reapin' a late haaarvest," slashes Ma, slapping the margarine on her own toast with more force than the act generally requires. "C'n I have s'moeh eggs?" queries Bink. "Gwan oopstairs an' eatchee breakfast tharr," comands Ma. "This cannversation is noonayee affair." "Eh," ehs Bink, crunching on a slice of bacon. "I don' mind." "Does yaaar SON knoo?" demands Ma. "Oi mean t'tell'im th' whool staaary," declares Uncle Frank. "Oi been meanin' to ivvar since..." "Since WHIN?" scoffs Ma. "Since last noit," admits Uncle Frank. "I didn't ivven KNOW it was harrr till I set oyes ann'arr. Isabel Ten Eyck! Harrr name was Izzie McNally! Hoo was Oi t'knoo she married soom rich Dootchman t'get oovar th' pain'a loosin' me?" "Oi'll tell ye woon thing, Francis Xavier Leary," glowers Ma. "Ye bettar foind oot what'arr game is, an' ye bettar poot'a stop t'wit. We got trooble ENOOF in this fam'ly --" "How bout t'em eggs?" reminds Bink. "GOOOO OOOPSTAIRS!" roars Ma. "Take me eggs," sighs Uncle Frank. "Oi've laaaast me appetoite...")

("Yeh," sighs Sally. "Joe tol' me t' whole stawry when he come home las' night. Who'da eveh t'ought'a Uncle Frank havin' a secret past. I ask ya!" "Y'neveh can tell," replies Alice, clamping her eyes firmly in place lest they roll. "I mean, awright, he helped raise me 'nawlat, an'ee c'n tell a funny stawry nown'nen," admits Sally. "But -- I mean -- he's a plumbeh! Who eveh hoid of a plumbeh havin' a secret past." "I can't imagine," agrees Alice, clenching her teeth to avoid a chuckle. "I mean," guffaws Sally, "t'at'd be like -- I mean, like YOU havin' a secret past!" "Um," ums Alice. "Hey look, somebody left'a Joinal-American awna flooeh. Hey, let's see what ya frien' Kilgallen's got t'say t'day..." "A secret past," snickers Sally. "I ask ya....")

(Loving your work is half the battle.)

(Never mind that, what was Hig doing after he got off the boat in San Francisco that they couldn't find -- oh, wait, never mind...)

(Don't ask questions if you don't like the answers.)

(Good, story's over. Time for Mary to go back home and see if Bill's burned the house down again.)

(This is why, Janie, you have no friends.)

("And if we can't get in to see Duke Wellington, there's always Count Bassey and Earl Heinz.")

(Old men on park benches also often have a bottle in their pocket, but hey, take a chance.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

"What this country needs is a good five-cent nickel..."

"Branch Rickey's scurvy treatment..." Luis Olmo says "hola!"

These new suburban neighborhoods have high standards.

"Tote that barge! Lift that bale! Get a little drunk and you land in jaaaaaaaail...."

B. O. Plenty, Executive Vice President In Charge of Domestic Agriculture.

"Do I have to ride in the back seat? I get carsick!"

Some people are born leaders, some are born to be led, and some are born to sell used cars...

"Frank th' Sinewy." All right, that's funny. Hey, you forgot "Vaughn th' Moany."

"Um, I wasn't told there'd be a quiz."

Bankroll now stands at $6002.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Worker...

The first draft of history...

 

[Fading Fast]

"...Hoo was Oi t'knoo she married soom rich Dootchman t'get oovar th' pain'a loosin' me?"

Dear Lord, what an ego.

Kudos to Bink, she wanted more eggs to eat while she watched the show. She's a piece of work.

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

Good, story's over. Time for Mary to go back home and see if Bill's burned the house down again.

I'd rather she go and visit Leona.

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

"Tote that barge! Lift that bale! Get a little drunk and you land in jaaaaaaaail...."

I thought about a lot of different things to do to earn a living, but farming was absolutely never, ever on the list for just the reason he explains to Annie – it's an awful job. It can be much better today with all the technology, but still, good luck with that. Oh, and thank you, farmers, for doing it as I like to eat.