The Era -- Day By Day

[LizzieMaine]

The Lounge image server is still not letting me upload. What follows is what I was able to complete yesterday afternoon before it went out again. It's not been working for me since shortly after yesterday's News and Worker posts. If it comes back up, I'll edit this post to include the missing pages and also the other papers.

The "Joe and Sally" material, at least, requires only your imagination for images.

("Well," exhales Joe. "Back again, huh?" "Yeh," nods the tall man, this time in a gray herringbone topcoat. "Not'eh one'a t'em Big Joe san'wiches." "Yesseh," nods Joe. As he reaches into the bin for the meat, his eyes flick to the door to the back room, which opens a crack and then closes just as abruptly. "Whassinneh?" queries the man. "Sawry?" replies Joe, sizzling the meat onto the grill. "T'at dooeh t'eh, inna back," frowns the man. "You looked oveh t'eh, 'n'nat dooeh open't, an'nen shut. Who'zinneh?" "Nobody," shrugs Joe, tossing on a dash of salt and pepper. "Zatso?" the man scowls. "Well," stumbles Joe, "i'll tell ya --- um -- t' t'rut." "Ah," ahs the man. Joe leans forward, his eyes shifting nervously. "My mot'eh'rin'lawr's inneh." "What's ya mot'ehr'in'lawr doin' inneh?" challenges the man. "We got a gal livin'eeh," continues Joe. "She's gonna have a baby. She's oveh due. She needs peace n' quiet." "An' ya mot'eh'rin'lawr's inna back room," squints the man, "'cause t'is ot'eh gal's gonna have a baby." "So t'ell be peace n' quiet," nods Joe, conspiratorially, as he flips over the meat. "Don' say nut'n," he adds, touching his lips with a fingertip. "Ah," ahs the man, with a suspicious glance at the back door...)

("Sal's boit'day is Satehday," sighs Alice. "She ain' too happy 'bout it." "What woman is?" shrugs Mrs. Ginsburg thru a sip of Sanka. "She is how old? T'oity?" "T'oity-t'ree," corrects Alice. "An' she ain' too happy 'bout it." "T'oity-t'ree," chuckles Mrs. Ginsburg. "My next boit'day, seventy-one will be. But the truth to tell? Would I be t'oity-t'ree again? Would I?" "Woul'jeh?" submits Alice. "Ich das es vi a loch en kopf!" chuckles Mrs. Ginsburg. "Really? replies Alice. "Feh!" emphasizes Mrs. Ginsburg. "You grow old, you will loin. T'oity-t'ree is a child, mit a lifetime ahead." "I guess," shrugs Alice, sipping her own cup. "Um," she continues. "How ol' is Misteh G?" "Who can say?" sighs Mrs. Ginsburg. "Did he have a boit' c'tificate? When he's happy, when the needle, it threads the foist try? He is a young men, fifty, sixty maybe. But when the pains come, ehhh. Met'useleh should be so old." "I guess I don' min' bein' foehty-one," declares Alice. "But I din' like bein' t'oity-t'ree." "Why not?" questions Mrs. G. "Well," explains Alice, "I din' know none'a yez t'en...")

*The following takes place in Bink's room above Ma's store, as Rosa looks over the movie ads...*

("Aw, you ain' doin'yaself no favehs sittn' in bed awl day," scoffs Rosa Capiello. "C'mon, ged'dresst. We'll go downtown, see t'is double fea'cheh. Lookit, 'cha gotta Strangeh inna Swamp, an'na Flyin' Soipent! It'll be a scream!" "I dowanna see no junk like T'AT," declares Bink, scraping the last of another banana split out of the little tin dish cadged from downstairs. "I feel absolutely rotten, I got cramps, an' on toppa t'at, I see a pitcheh wit' a monsteh fr'm t' swamp innit, t' baby's li'ble t'come out lookin' like -- who's innat again?" "Some guy," shrugs Rosa. "Neveh hoid'vim." "Well I don' wan'no baby looks like no swamp monsteh," reiterates Bink. "Bad'enough it's gonna look like Mickey." "He wasn' bad lookin'," shrugs Rosa. "I mean, f'r'n Irish." "Ehhh," gags Bink. "I dunno what I seen in'im." "Leas' ee ain' got eehs like..." snickers Rosa. "SHUT UP," roars Bink, flinging the tin dish against the wall...)

(Coming Events...)

Sports capsule: the Dodgers are back in Brooklyn and are preparing for an opening exhibition series against the Yankees at Ebbets Field, in which Leo's Kiddie Corps will be in full operation, with Hermanski and Furillo in the outfield. Reiser's arm shows promise, according to the team physician, but the prognosis on Lavagetto is not good: his elbow is full of calcium deposits. That's the way the cookie crumbles...

 

[Fading Fast]

"SHUT UP," roars Bink, flinging the tin dish against the wall...

Better than a radio through the window.

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That's the way the cookie crumbles.

Groan (but it is kinda a good one.)

 

[Fading Fast]

"The Lounge image server is still not letting me upload. What follows is what I was able to complete yesterday afternoon before it went out again. It's not been working for me since shortly after yesterday's News and Worker posts. If it comes back up, I'll edit this post to include the missing pages and also the other papers."

First and most importantly, thank you for trying so hard to keep these going as I know the time drain is huge as is the aggravation when the server keeps going down. Second, you, I think, were at some point part of a "leadership" group at FL, have you any inside dope on what is going on with the server (and if they'll ever turn off this insane "bad word" filter)?

 

[LizzieMaine]

I've advised the head office of what's going on, so I hope a solution is in the offing. There's so much going with our friends in 1946 that I hate to see a disruption now. I've got the pages for each day here on my end and as soon as it's fixed i'll populate them into the relevant posts. In the meantime, I'll post what I can for summaries on important news stories, and keep the Joe & Sally storyline going. After all, Sally's birthday is tomorrow and I know she won't want us to miss it.

As for the Idiotic Kindergarten Bot, it seems to be compulsory with the software, at least from what I know about it. Gawfabbid somebody might talk about D I C K Tracy.

 

[Fading Fast]

I've advised the head office of what's going on, so I hope a solution is in the offing. There's so much going with our friends in 1946 that I hate to see a disruption now. I've got the pages for each day here on my end and as soon as it's fixed i'll populate them into the relevant posts. In the meantime, I'll post what I can for summaries on important news stories, and keep the Joe & Sally storyline going. After all, Sally's birthday is tomorrow and I know she won't want us to miss it.

As for the Idiotic Kindergarten Bot, it seems to be compulsory with the software, at least from what I know about it. Gawfabbid somebody might talk about D I C K Tracy.

Thank you. I am surprised somebody like Sally is upset at turning 33, but we all have our things.

I know it, but keep forgetting that N*zi is also a word that is not allowed, for no reason that my small brain can comprehend other than that people do use it as an insult. It is hard, though, to talk about 1940s geopolitical events and never use the word...especially when you want to make snarky asides about postwar Germany.

 

[LizzieMaine]

33 was a pretty hard year for me -- my metabolism shifted and I gained 30 pounds in a year. I dunno if that'll happen to Sal, but Moskowitz's Deli is just up 18th Avenue.

My mother's big crisis was turning 30, and seeing her deal with it led me to dread its approach when I was six.

The bot really is ridiculous for this type of a forum, especially when I can think of any number of 1940s obscenities/blasphemies/maledictions that it won't catch, and yet I can't say that someone "c ocked an eye" without getting asterisked. I also have to have Ma and Uncle Frank stretch out "blooody," because we're not allowed to say that word without dialect. It's not only a priggish stupid bot, but it's a bloooody sassenach priggish stupid bot.

 

[Harp]

Great work with this thread Lizzie. Your efforts, acumen, and personal observe relevance remarks all
serve noble purpose. And most impressively done spot on.

Looked for some legal writs, but the ex GI wife child custody case stood stark relief with Solomonic overtone.
Prurience aside for promissory estoppel specific performance should rule here. A fertilized zygote fallopian tubal traverse toward uterus placement for gestation prior quicken does not accord birth custody right against
prior implicit contract. The Law has formally recognized fetal existence prior quicken as legal entity with standing; yet this case implicitly encapsules uterine and fertilized egg within irrevocable trust, tenancy in entirety. However, as the last weeks have shown with the Mayfair Sewing Circle and Pisanti, the Law can prove
skewered where gender concerned. Stare decisis should rule prevail implied irrevocable trust encapsule
intrinsic somatic promissory estoppel specificity. However, circa 1941 jurisprudence this reasoned line
might not hold. Vae victus veritas.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Will ye goo back t'sleep, Nora," sighs Uncle Frank, consulting the bedside alarm clock. "It's three tharrty in th' maarnin'." "Th' gaaarl's gaaat no roit t'say we can't celebrate'arr barrthday," growls Ma. "She's me daughtarr, an' Oi'll celebrate'arr barrthday if Oi please to. Even IF she's been naught but a troial t'mee far tharrrty-three years. She's still me daughtar, an' that means..." But what it means we shall not know, as her soliloquy is cut short by a heavy bumping sound from the floor above. "SHOOT OOP AN' GOO T" BED!" roars Ma. "Foolish gaaarl, expaaactin' t' have a healthy baby, whoile she's oop all noit carooosin. Whin Oi had MY children, Oi nivvar --" Again she is interrupted by the heavy thuds. "Ye moit as will goo up tharr an' see what she wants," sighs Uncle Frank. "Three thaaarty in th' marnin'," exhales Ma, forcing herself out of bed and into her robe. She stumbles to the door, and jerks it open, only to find Bink standing in the hallway, her face ashen. "We gotta cawla am'blance," she pants, her features contorted in pain. "Mooothar'a marrcy," Ma mutters, pulling Bink into the living room and racing down into the store. "TELL'M I"M PAID UP!" shouts Bink, as the lights snap on...)

(And later in the day, completely unaware of momentous events in East Flatbush, we find Sally and Leonora, attired in their city clothes, gaping with awe at the majestic Main Reading Room of the main branch of the New York Public Library. "T'ey ain' got awla books inna woil in'eeh," explains Sally, as Leonora's eyes widen and shine. "But t'ey got awla ones ya wanna read someday." "I doubt it," marvels Leonora. "Hey," grins Sally. "Y'hoid me. Ya eeh mus' be gett'n betteh." They look up at the vaulted ceiling. "T'at mus' be a hunnet' feet high," exhales Sally. "An'na whole buildin' is fulla books. I wanna show ya -- HEY! Watch it, bud," she interjects, as a thin-faced collegian in shell-rimmed glasses walks into her. "Oh," he apologizes. "I'm sorry, ma'am. I'm nearsighted." Sally glares daggers as he moves on. "'Ma'am,' he says!" she fumes. "Ma'am! Do I look like'a ma'am t' --" She trails off as she looks around for her daughter, who is suddenly not present. "Leonoreh??" she calls, jerking back and forth. "LEONOREH????")

("Heh." -- Dr. Levine.)

(Smirking's not a good look for you, Mr. DiMaggio.)

(Oh, so it's that part of town...)

(Um.)

("What do YOU know, you don't even have a fur coat!")

(Why not get a boyfriend who does more than sit around reading the paper? Who do you think you are, Fritzi Ritz?)

(When a friend's kitten wandered off, several of us formed a posse to scour the neighborhood. So as much as I hate to disagree with Kitty, it does happen.)

 

[Fading Fast]

A 12 year old boy was killed while hitching a ride on a DeKalb Avenue trolley. Paul McCatchen of 62 Patchen Avenue died when his head struck a parked car as the trolley rolled by.

Jesus, how many die in a day due to trolley accidents?

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

"TELL'M I"M PAID UP!" shouts Bink, as the lights snap on...)

She has her moments.

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

Mickey Owen has jumped BACK to Mexico

He did not acquit himself particularly well in this event.

 

[Harp]

The Hotel Berkeley robbery fatalities offer salient target shooting review, with six rounds in one
bandit and a flight forfeit back stabbed by what circa 1945 standard police issue would be a .38 revolver,
nominally Colt or Smith&Wesson manufacture. Seven rounds fired by NYPD at thirty seven cents per slug
or $2.59 total cash outlay. 'Aces n' Eight' dead man's hand dealt two fools chasing a fast buck.

Forgot to mention Dragon Gal a few days ago. Always a looker and seemingly focused Terry.
Time will tell but her desire to remain incognizant intrigues as to reasoning.

 

[LizzieMaine]

Today's Eagle pages have now been added, and in the Daily News...

We certainly wouldn't want to miss a Page Four like this.

"I have no idea who wrote this. Why do you ask?" -- H. Gray.

Business is business.

Mr. Gray went shooting once, but the recoil knocked him on his behind. Those 22s can have an awful kick.

WHY THEY COULD BE TWINS, TWINS I TELL YOU

The line to fleece Andy Gump forms at the left...

You can take the man out of the Army...

Money can't buy happiness, but it can pay the carfare while you look.

Whispering Jack Smith? Whattaya hear from Gene Austin, Frank Munn, and the Silver Masked Tenor?

You can't hide from your past forever...

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Worker...

Dream Big.

 

[Fading Fast]

"What do YOU know, you don't even have a fur coat!"

LOL.

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

We certainly wouldn't want to miss a Page Four like this.

Dear God no, I live for Page Fours like this.

FYI, Ms. Cu mmins was replace by Linda Darnell in "Forever Amber."

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

"I have no idea who wrote this. Why do you ask?" -- H. Gray.

Dear God, just make it stop. And he gives a very modern g*n advocates' argument today.

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

She's so cool.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Whatta day," sighs Sally, slumping on the front stoop. "Who'da t'ought," marvels Alice, "y'could have t'at much excitemen' in a liberry." Toined my back on'neh f' five seconds!" sputters Sally. "An' she takes awff! Y'know whe'r I foun'eh? Sit'n inna chaieh inna readin' room wit'eh nose inna book!!" "T'at don' soun' so bad," shrugs Alice. "It's a liberry afteh'rawl." "Yeh," frowns Sally. "But I toeh t'at place apawrt lookin' fawr'eh! I looked in awla places *I* woulda gawn! An' did she go t' any'a t'em places? NO! She goes an' sits down atta table an' reads a book!" I ASK YA!" "What book?" chuckles Alice. "F'reveh Ambeh," growls Sally. "Oh," ohs Alice. "Kids t'day. Speakin'a which, didjeh heeh'rabout Bink Scanlan? Solly was tellin' me t'is mawrnin'." "An'nat'sa no'teh t'ing!" snaps Sally. "She's gotta lotta noive, havin'eh kid on MY boit'day." "I t'ought you din' wanna tawk aboutcha boit'day," challenges Alice. "Yeh," acknowledges Sally. "An' now t'ez no way I'm eveh gonna be able t' f'get it!")

("What'jeh say t'ey done t' me?" murmurs Bink, her eyes bleary. "Whatchee caaall a Caesarrian Section," sighs Ma. "Ye had a baby weighed oovar ten pooonds!" "I jus' t'ought it was awlem banana splits," groans Bink. "Ye got a foine healthy boy," continues Ma. "Ohh," exhales Bink. "T'en I guess I can't cawl'im 'Fawrsyt'ia.'" "Ye gotta cawl 'im somethin',' urges Ma. "Yeh, I s'pose," replies Bink, her head sagging back on the pillow. "Lemme t'ink it oveh." "Ye friend Rosa is doonstairs," continues Ma. "Anybody -- um -- else come t'see me?" questions Bink, her eyes closed. "Francis was here befaaar," informs Ma, "but'chee was still asleep. An' Joseph looked in aaaahn ye too." "S'good," mumbles Bink. "Lemme know if t'ez anybody else." "Hm," hms Ma...)

(Furilleh f' rookie'a t'yeeh!)

(Well, if your name is Whip, you've got a lot to live up to...)

(Movie Bugs would never be so altruistic.)

("ART! ART! ART! ART! ART!")

(I had no idea that there was such a demand for actresses who look like Ida Lupino.)

(Pork pie hat, ice cream suit, pipe -- I wonder what the market is for detectives who look like Bing Crosby?)

(I have it on good authority that Mr. Churchill has the wrinkles pressed right in to save time.)

(QUICK SET THE DOG ON HER -- oh.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And also...

(Remember a few years back where there was that scandal about not letting girls join the Knot Hole Club? AND IT STILL ISN'T HAPPENING? Hey Sal, better get busy!)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...


AND A BIT PLAYER AT THAT!

You reach a point in your life where the very idea of existence is an imposition.

Make a plan and carry it out. That's how you get ahead.

Mr. Gray has crusaded on many topics over the years. But -- minks?

Some beachcomber is about to have a very good day.

"Pat Ryan? Hmph, why send a man to do a boy's work?"

Hadn't you better run this all by her first?

This is a rerun. What's up, Mr. Willard? Thinking of going to work for the Vera Cruz Noticias?

Well, at least he finally signed up for college.

Actually, he's looking for the fifth of rye he hid in there in 1921.

 

[Fading Fast]

One of the really cool things about these Day by Day readings of the paper is you can see things like medicine, which was pretty rudimentary thirty years prior, becoming truly modern and amazing.

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

"...An' Joseph looked in aaaahn ye too."

He is such a good man.

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

I had no idea that there was such a demand for actresses who look like Ida Lupino.

You might want to stay away from Ms. Lupino for a few days until she cools down, Lizzie.

 

[Harp]

Ida L and Dragon Gal same day occurrence!!! Terry appears unusually restrained for a red blooded
American ex GI...couldawouldashoulda had Dragon Gal on Second looking to steal Third. Go Cubs!

And, platonic infidelity accrual Mrs Brunner against her Columbia student hubbie might see annulment
if marriage still unconsumated. ''It is the geometer's business to know that circular wounds heal more
slowly, and the physician's to know the reason why.''---Aristotle, Posterior Analytica

 

[LizzieMaine]

("You hold him like this," instructs the nurse. "I dunno," wavers Bink. "I neveh held no baby befoeh." "Well," sighs the nurse. "Now's the time to learn." She guides her patient's arms into the correct position and gently hands over the infant." "He smells funny," wrinkles Bink. "You'll get used to it," declares the nurse. "So," pleads Bink. "What'm I s'posta do now?" The nurse gives her a pained gaze. "You really don't know anything about this, do you?" marvels the nurse. "Didn't you ever have any brothers or sisters? Didn't you ever babysit?" "No," shrugs Bink. "I was too busy woikin'. I wenta woik when I was seven yeehs ol'." "Ah," nods the nurse. "What sort of work did you do?" "Take t' kid back," replies Bink, "an' I'll show ya...")

("I know," shrugs Solly Pincus. "But'chy'll hafta go yaself an' bid. I tol' ya, I ain' woikin' t'day. An' I'm -- you know -- goin' t' t' Ginsboigs t'night. F' -- you know, t' Sedeh." "Oh," ohs Uncle Frank. "Oi nivvar knew ye was r'ligious." "I guess I ain't," admits Solly. "But -- t'is is diff'ent, y'know? 'Specially t'is yeeh. B'sides, you know moeh'rabout t'is plumbin' stuff. Use ya judgemen', an' don' buy nut'n we can't sell. I got a lot awn my min', y'know?" "Ye been oovar t'see'ar?" queries Uncle Frank. "An' make sueh," ignores Solly, "ya get awla papehwoik...")

("You eveh seen television?" queries Alice. "I was inna bawr once t'at had one. T'ey hadda bawl game awn, an'ya couldn' even tell what was hap'nin. Din' see t' pernt of it." "Me'n Joe seen it at t' Woil's Faieh," recalls Sally. "T' R-C-A P'villion. Great big t'ing sits awna floeh. Y'open up t' top an'nezza mirreh, an' ya look innat an' see t' pitcheh." "What'dja see?" wonders Alice. "Joe," replies Sally. "T'ey haddis big camera t'ing, see, ya stan' in fron'v'it, an' ya face goes awna television. I seen Joe an' he seen me. Annen'ney give us t'ese lit'l cawrds. Look 'eeh." She fishes in her handbag and produces a wrinkled pink pasteboard. "T'is is to soitify," she reads, "that Sally Petrauskas has been Televised at t' R-C-A Exhibit Buildin', New Yawrk Woil's Faieh, June 18, 1939." "Wowww," admires Alice. "I neveh met nobody eveh been televised. 'Cept f' Hig. He was televised inna bawlgame once, but nobody could see what'ee was doin'." "You seen what'ee was doin'," reminds Sally. "Hey," grins Alice. "Ya right. Hey, y'know what? 'Stoo bad t'ey din' televise me hitt'n'im wit'tat pot roast!")

(Wait, Mungo's going to Mexico??? DIDN'T HE LEARN HIS LESSON ABOUT BULLFIGHTERS?)

(It's a pity HE didn't get the bullfighter card.)

(This better be worth it.)

("And be careful with that cigarette, a spark on that dyed rabbit might cause an explosion!")

(If ever there was a time to turn invisible this would be it.)

(It's a rough neighborhood.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

"We must have the wrong place, there's only a few bucks here." This is why you check your plan before putting it into motion.

What, no votes for Ramon Novarro?

Well, at least she's not explaining to us the superior moral advantages of well water.

Ah, romance...

Didn't Alfalfa do this bit ten years ago?

All's well that ends.

"Anyway, we'll be here a while. Pass that bottle."

"So -- let's eat?"

Oh, Terry, when will you ever learn.

Money changes everything.