The Era -- Day By Day

[Farace]

Unless I missed something, I’m still waiting for some closure on the dogbite/rabies scare story. Haven’t seen anything for about a week, now, have we?

 

[Harp]

Unless I missed something, I’m still waiting for some closure on the dogbite/rabies scare story. Haven’t seen anything for about a week, now, have we?

Rabies infection will spread to the brain, causing encephalitis or meningitis and is generally fatal.
With this case and incubation of several weeks, brain inflamation has likely occurred and the child is probably deceased.

 

[LizzieMaine]

There was a story about five years ago about a severe rabies outbreak, where they were rounding up, and destroying, stray dogs en masse as a preventative measure. The rabies vaccine for dogs exists in 1946, but it is not yet compulsory, and there is political opposition to making it compuslory. Coming Events...

 

[LizzieMaine]

("I guess I gotta do it," growls Rosa Capiello. "But I ain' gotta like it. Foehteen bucks a show, an' I gotta change my name." "It won't be so bad," sighs Shirley Blick. "I read inna magazine wheh a lotta t'em stawrs do it," offers Sammy Schreibstein. "You know Danny Kaye? His real name's Kaminsky." "Rose Capps," snorts Rosa. "Looka me. Do I look like Rose Capps? T' whole t'ing is stupid. T'at Sobol guy don' go aroun' cawlin' 'imself John Smith." "I wondeh if it's 'cause if ya got too many vowels in ya name," ponders Sammy, "t'ey have a hawrd time fittin' out'n fronna t' t'eateh." Shirley gives her boyfriend a look. "Jus' a t'eory," shrugs Sammy. "They just want names that don't sound like they come from anyplace," elaborates Shirley. "Somebody tell'at t' Sinatra," growls Rosa. "Whez he from?" questions Sammy. "Hoboken," advises Shirley. "Ohhhhhh," comprehends Sammy...)

("I don't get it, Frank," yawns Lowrey, sipping at a cup of Toomey's coffee. "Five 'a' clock in the mornin'. I ain't recovered from twenny hours on that rattler, an' ya drag me out here t'sit an' drink lousy coffee. Donuts ain't bad though." "We gotta taaaalk," exhales Uncle Frank. "This man Solly Pincus is oota control. Oi waaarned ye this would happ'n when we took 'im in." "Seems I remember," replies Lowrey thru a mouthful of donut, "it was you that wanted to bring him in." "Thaaaat's immaterial," blusters Uncle Frank. "He's took oovar th' whool blooody business, a business that was MY oidearr in th' farrst place! Doon't that bothaaar ye?" "Ehhh," ehss Lowrey. "I'm too busy t'be bothered. Three stores in Chi, an' two in St. Louis. An', y'know, there's a guy out in Kansas City that's openin' one." "Who?" "Some guy with a lotta dough," shrugs Lowrey, reaching for another donut. "I ain't met him, just talked on the phone. Name's O'Donnell. Mike O'Donnell." "Huh," huhs Uncle Frank, pausing in mid-sip. "Huh what?" replies Lowrey. "Huh? Oooh noothin," shrugs Uncle Frank. "O'Donnell was Nora's maiden name, that's aaahl. "Heh," hehs Lowrey. "Maybe a long lost relative....")

("And can you believe I had someone in this morning that demanded delivery by 1948!")

(I never heard of Sandy Saddler till now, but if he wears that hat into the ring, he'll have a fan for life.)

(A wrestling promoter? Mamie Mullins will wipe the mat with her.)

(Doesn't anybody ever work in this office???)

("But until you do, I'll have to ask you to wear this leash...")

(I really don't know what's going on here, but it's genuinely unsettling.)

(Chicken dinner!)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

EW.

Take in a ball game while you're at it!

Mr. Clark has a magnificent understanding of how kids actually sit.

Philanthropy in action.


Panel Two: I know Mr. Gray is just trying to be creative with shadowing, but just the same he's going to get an angry telegram from Al Jolson's lawyer.

At least they gave him a cell with an open window.

Make it do or do without...

And Gus Edson will get an angry telegram from the estate of Florence Foster Jenkins.

"Voom voom."

If you want to learn a trade you've got to start early...

 

[LizzieMaine]

And also...

If you think the hat's impressive, wait'll you see Reiser's whole uniform.

 

[Fading Fast]

"...Name's O'Donnell. Mike O'Donnell."

Could it be Bink's kid's baby daddy? If ever a man should have a reason to change his name, Mickey certainly does if he wants to make a fresh start, but nothing in his character says he's a fresh-start-making kinda guy.

If he does well with the store, maybe he'll send for Bink and the kid. Bahahahahaha.

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

I never heard of Sandy Saddler till now, but if he wears that hat into the ring, he'll have a fan for life.

Ditto on both.

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

Doesn't anybody ever work in this office???

Or look around before they say something snarky?

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

I really don't know what's going on here, but it's genuinely unsettling.

I agree, something is wrong, potentially very wrong in "Mr. Ramm's" world right now.

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

Take in a ball game while you're at it!

And report back to us what the game/league is like down there, since, apparently, none of our sniveling papers will.

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

Philanthropy in action.

Not hard to guess one of her fantasies.

 

[Harp]

Mrs Rosenfield's temporary alimony ask for a weekly grand is quite adequate 1946 living costs,
and then some, with another tenner for her lawyers. Swinging for the fence, but her bat sufficiently taped and choked, it looks doable. And her stock hold marital dowry gift sets the table for a rather suitable divorce settlement. Still first inning though with a lot of legal baseball to be played.

The octogenarian Carizales' expectant paternity story deals a stork egg breakfast plate to morning readership. Everything works and nothing's hurt. And he's married to a twenty-two year old girl latest edition too. Whoever said nothing ever happens in Des Moines?

Terrence, bumbling foreplay tingle, simply puts Rin Tin Tin and Lassie inside a DC-3 dog run.
Milt really erred by abandoning past tense.

And speaking of past performance, the Alabama and Pacific run Saturday at Saratoga and Del Mar; leaving a rich harvest for autumnal track crows. I believe the Pacific has eleven entrants registered, which is quite unusual for thoroughbred drought struck Southern California.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Joe says she ain' too happy about it," relates Sally. "But she's gonna do it." "Y'do a lotta t'ings y'don' wanna do," shrugs Alice, "when y'gotta put t' meat awna table. 'Magine'at, she's what, 22, 23 yeehs ol'? An' got awlem kids t' bring up." "Foehteen dollehs a show," continues Sally. "T'at Shoiley Blick is a hell'va negotiateh. Joe says she made t'at guy Sobol cough up an extra two bucks jus' by sitt'neh inna chaieh lookin' 'im inna eye till it made 'im noivous. I wisht we'd had'eh at Woolwoit's." "Rose Capps," repeats Alice. "T'at ain' awlat bad a name. Souns like a movie stawr." "A Rose by any ot'eh name," recites Sally, "would skate as sweet." "Huh?" huhs Alice. "T'at's Shakespeeh," explains Sally. "Huh," repeats Alice. "I neveh knew he wrote nut'nabout rolleh skates." "Jus'a same," continues Sally. "T'is name-changin' bit is t' bunk. Nut'n wrawng wit' Capiello f'ra name. If I'da been'eh I'da give t'at Sobol sump'n t' t'ink about. I said t' Joe, it'd be like if Sobol ast HIM t' change HIS name t' 'Petehsen." "Why'dee wanna do t'at?" queries Alice. "Petrauskas," elucidates Sally, "is Lit'uanian f' 'Petehsen.'" "Joe Petehsen," marvels Alice. "'S' funny, y' know? Joe don' LOOK Swedish!")

("Ahhhhh," scoffs Sergeant Doyle. "Ya know whatcha trouble is, Frank? Ya worry too much." "I warrrrry as mooch," declares Uncle Frank, "as th' sitchiation waaaarants. An' this waaaarants." "So what if t'is guy is Mickey," hmphs Doyle. "What c'nee do t'at he ain' awlready done?" "We didn't exaaactly paaart coompany," sweats Uncle Frank, 'oondar th' best'a saaarcamstances. Oi sent'im on 'is way with th' stronnnng suggestion that soomthin' moit befall'im if'ee didn't disappear." "Ahhh, what's a lit'l grievous bodily," snickers Doyle, "s'long'sya keep it inna fam'ly." "And thaaaar's blooody Solly Pincus t'considaar," exhales Uncle Frank. "If he catches on that Lowrey's been doin' business with Mickey withoot knooin' aboot it, tharrr's no TELLIN' what koinda rampage he'll goo aaahn. He knoos Mickey fr'm way back." "Yeh," chuckles Doyle. "Y'gotta really KNOW Mickey t' dislike'im." "Nivvar moind th' caaaaamedy, Thomas," pleads Uncle Frank. "I wan'chee t'get aaaahn ye teletoype, arr what'ivvar it is ye coppars do, an' foind oot what's gooin' aaahn in Kansas City, an'hoo deep is Mickey Mike O'Donnell Sweeney mixed oop in it!" "Yeeeh," agrees Doyle. "I c'n do t'at. Gonna cawst ya..." "Put it," groans Uncle Frank, "aaaahn me bill...")

("Besides, he'd take six years just to learn all the payoffs! I've got 30 years experience!")

(Someone should call Petey in San Diego for comment....)

(Either that or she'll be on television.)

(Doesn't it hurt to hold your head at an angle like that?)

(Hey, he'd make a great cop. Just get him a plaid suit and a cigar.)

(Even the decorative ethnic statue is confused.)

(THERE'S A NEW AMERICA'S NUMBER ONE HERO DOG IN TOWN!)

 

[rupam03]

A nice little rabbit hole to dive into.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

"Even youth has its limitations."

Well, who WOULD want Leo for a house guest? Aside from George Raft, I mean...

And one day you'll wake up and be "Gran'ma," and you'll wonder where it all went.

"Arthur Murray Taught Me Dancing In A Hurry!"

Marooned again?

Nice machete, kid.

"The reception's off, and I need a sandwich."

Well, if you didn't want them knocked over, why did you stack them up?

Heard from Lillums lately?

Goofball in the side pocket.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Worker...

Coming Events...

 

[Fading Fast]

"Yeeeh," agrees Doyle. "I c'n do t'at. Gonna cawst ya..." "Put it," groans Uncle Frank, "aaaahn me bill..."

These two deserve each other.

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

Either that or she'll be on television.

Before or after Rose Capps?

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

THERE'S A NEW AMERICA'S NUMBER ONE HERO DOG IN TOWN!

Getting to the top is never as hard as staying there.

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

"Even youth has its limitations."

Yes, the, "Give me a break, lady, I need to get some sleep," line stood out.

 

[Harp]

Alienation of affection or abandonment within marriage constitute sufficient grounds
for divorce, and Mrs Millicent Alpern appears aggrieved spouse with reasoned equity petition
pursuant marital complaint. Her husband apparently wed a tigress guised lamb; admitting as much to his public embarrassment. Lascivious law, and divorce practice isn't colloquially referred
as the proctology of jurisprudence without cause.

Neither Boyington nor Malcolmson have clean skirts; although Boyington established
fiduciary obligation to his former flame irrespective the lack of banns. And his comeuppance
is rightfully deserved. Equity be done.

Terrence portends a crash n' burn double entendre.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Whattaya MEAN," glowers Solly Pincus," "y'neveh met t' guy face t' face??" "Well," fumbles Lowrey, "I just ain't had a chance, is all. Kansas City's a long way away." "So's Brooklyn," notes Solly. "But heeh ya sit." "Well, uh..." stumbles Lowrey. "Look," glares Solly. "Ya doin' awright out'eh. I'll give ya credit f't'at. But get t'is, an' get it straight. It's MY face awnna sign, awright? An' I do'want ANYBODY hangin' up t'at sign t'at ain't been checked out. I got trouble ENOUGH," he snaps, with a sharp stare at Francis X. Leary, "wit'out no MOEH foueh-flushehs t' chase afteh." "Ah," gulps Uncle Frank. "Yeah," agrees Lowrey, sinking in his chair. "Ya right about that." "So heeh's what we'eh gonna do," declares Solly. "T'night an' t'marra we'eh gonna go oveh t'ese books wit' a fine toot' comb, an' we ain' gonna stop till ev'ryt'ing balances. An'nen you an' ME, Lowrey, awr gonna get onna train f' Kansas City. An' we'eh gonna siddown wit' t'is Mike O'Donnell characteh an' we'eh gonna know ev'ryt'ing about'im t'eh IS t' know! We'eh gonna know moeh'r'about'im t'en HE does!" "Uhh..." chokes Uncle Frank. "You got sump'n t' say?" growls Solly. "Oi hearr..." mumbles Uncle Frank, "th' baaaarbecue is very good...")

("One t'ing we gotta figyeh out," ponders Joe, "is how we'eh gonna handle t'ings when Rosa's got one'a t'ese shows t' do. T' racetrack's reopenin' in a coupla weeks, an' he'eh hopin' we get busy. Somebody's gonna hafta be t' cawrhop when Rosa ain' heeh." "I can do it, Misteh P," volunteers Sammy. "Ahhhh," hesitates Joe. "I don' t'ink -- " "T' outfit won' fitcha!" snickers Rosa. "I can do it," sighs Shirley Blick. "You can rolleh skate?" challenges Joe. "I can learn," declares Shirley. "T'ree mont's ago," reminds Rosa, "I neveh been onna rolleh skate in my life." "Look," sighs Joe. "It ain'at i don' appreciate it, but you'n Sammy bot' gotta go back t' school soon." "I can do it after school," insists Shirley. "What aboutcha homewoik?" challenges Joe. "I do it all in study hall," shrugs Shirley. "She does," affirms Sammy. "I seen 'eh." "Well," sighs Joe. "If t' skates fit..." "Just one thing," adds Shirley. "DON'T tell my mother...")

("Well then either way, we win!")

("First a capering pantaloon on the air," frowns Mr. Rickey. "And now a literary lion? Mr. Durocher must soon, I predict, be faced with yet another election of professions!" "Well sir," gulps Mr. Parrott. "That is to say, I mean, uh, Leo didn't exactly write..." "It asserts 'DUROCHER SAYS,'" glares Mr. Rickey, his fearsome brows beetling. "Do you presume to tell me the proud Eagle is no better than the foul scandal sheet that employs that jackal Powers? And how is it that YOU know this fact?" "Um," ums Mr. Parrott, feeling his collar tighten, "the truth is, I, uh, wrote it, um, for him." Mr. Rickey's jaw twitches. "You are, I presume, paid for...?" "Oh, sir...." protests Mr. Parrott. "I assure you, my boy," calms Mr. Rickey, "the percentage shall be entirely reasonable...")

(C'mon, let's help Fitz out!)

(Well, she didn't get shoulders like that going to cotillions...)

(I hope these two end up rooming together...)

("So -- um -- loan me five bucks?")

("She doesn't look THAT unspeakably evil...")

(AMERICA'S FORMER NUMBER ONE HERO DOG does not have a drinking problem.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

Remember what happened to the Brow?

Feuding with Leo now? Watch out, Jimmy -- he's got a column too!

Helping her move? That's a big step in any relationship.

When Annie calls you a so-and-so, you know you've been called a so-and-so!

"Want a good vacation?"

"Camille. My real name's Camille."

Oh, to be eleven years old again, and to know that last moment of unlimited power...

SHEEP DIPPER! SHEEP DIPPER! SHEEP DIPPER!

You better lay off the stuff, kid.

Most realistic married couple in the comics.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Worker...

Tell us more...

 

[Fading Fast]

C'mon, let's help Fitz out!

Rickey must love the rental income on this. If only Taylor Swift was doing a tour in'46, think how much more revenue he could bring in.

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

Helping her move? That's a big step in any relationship.

Good one, Lizzie.

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

"Camille. My real name's Camille."

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

Tell us more...

And another utopia turns out to be just another 1984.

 

[Harp]

Tremper has valid passion defense for stabbing cabbie Feretti with a Filipino pig sticker.
The bolo is a curved blade, more effective for sugar cane harvest labor. It's capable of killing
a man but not of the K-bar or Randall attack knife major league cutlery.

Boyington stupidly walked into a right cross in court. He lusted and lost. He should have played
his cards better, more by the woman who cared for his children while he was away at war.
I presume he'll get his azz chewed out one side up and the other down.

The Alabama runs eleventh at Saratoga this afternoon. My *** is Loaded; Counting Stars;
ATI Girl; Measure.

The Pacific is tenth at Del Mar. Hit Show; Knightsbridge; Navaho Warrior; Om Joy.
But it's wide barn door open. The handle is Derby grade good.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("I was woondarrrin'," ventures Uncle Frank, poking at his oatmeal. "Have ye had any -- ah -- lettars lately?" "What?" squints Ma, fiddling with the cord for the percolator. "Lettars," repeats Uncle Frank, nervously tapping his spoon against the side of his bowl. "Ye knoow, fr'm -- ah --friends." "I got noooo friends," replies Ma, jamming the plug into its socket. "Ahh," acknowledges Uncle Frank. "Well, thin, ahhhhhh --- relatives, let's say." Ma looks up, locking her husband in That Look. "What are ye oop to now, Francis Leary?" she demands. "He wawnts t' know," snickers Bink, thru a gulp of orange juice, "if ya hoid anyt'ing lately from Slick." Ma shifts her glare. "I mean," shrugs Bink, "from Mickey. You know, t' fawrt'eh a' my kid." Ma's head whips back to Uncle Frank. "Ahhhhh....." gapes Uncle Frank. "Oi'm jooost -- woondarin', that's aaaahll. It's been a year now since he -- ah -- went away." "Oi've haaaard noothin'," snaps Ma. "An' if YEEEEEEE'V haaard soomthin'...." 'Oi've had not a warrrd," insists Uncle Frank. "Me waaaard'a honarrr." "Hmmmmmmm..........." scowls Ma....)

("As soon as they put television sets back on sale," vows Dr. Blick, "I'm going to look into getting one." "What FOR?" snorts Mrs. Blick. "It's the coming thing," declares Dr. Blick. "If half of what Shirley tells us is true, it's going to be a fascinating thing to watch develop." "Hmph," hmphs Mrs. Blick. "We have that big radio in the living room, and you NEVER listen to that." "Just because YOU think Red Skelton is funny," dismisses Dr. Blick, "doesn't mean that I... oh, good morning Shirley." "Good morning," mutters Shirley, walking with a distinct limp. "Shirley!" glares her mother. "What -- that bruise on your forehead!" "What bruise?" attempts Shirley. "That one with all the POWDER on it," retorts Mrs. Blick, reaching for a napkin to wipe away the attempt at cosmetic concealment. "OW!" yelps Shirley. "Bella --" injects Dr. Blick. He regards his daughter. "Well?" he interrogates. "It's nothing," dismisses Shirley. "I fell in the subway." "That's it," announces Mrs. Blick. "No more subway." "What do you want her to do?" laughs Dr. Blick. "Roller skate??")

("Jus' my luck," sighs Sally. "I fin'ly got a Satehday wheh it'd be nice t' go out'n take in a bawl game, an'neh awna road." "We ain' been much t'is yeeh," acknowledges Joe. "Yeh," sighs Sally. "Eh, Rickey's gonna drawr two million, he don'need us. B'sides, I mean -- I dunno, it jus' don' feel t' same t'is yeeh. Y'notice'at?" "I been too busy," sighs Joe, "t' t'ink about it awlat much." "I mean," continues Sally. "R'membeh how it useteh be? Befoeh t' wawr? Befoeh Leonoreh was bawrn? When it was jus' you'n me? Back in t'oity-nine? Foehty? Foehty-one? How it felt? I mean, jeez, goin' out'eh, seein' Camilli wringin'at bat in 'is hans like y'could see t' sawrdus' comin' out? Ol' Fitz out'eh, spinnin' aroun' an' showin'
'at big numbeh foehteen, an'nen makin'at noise when'ee spins back aroun' an' t'rows t' bawl? Wyatt wit'tat big kick 'a his? An' Petey, toinin''em double plays like'ee's inna ballet? An'nen Reiseh shows up, an'ee's runnin' wild out'eh..." "He's still runnin' wil'," argues Joe. "Right int'wa wawl," laments Sally. "An' Fitz is sellin' footbawl tickets. An' Camilli's out awn some fawrm, an' whot'a hell knows wheh Wyatt is. An' Petey...." "Wait'll nex' yeeh." reassures Joe. "Yeh," smiles Sally. "Wait'll nex' yeeh....")

("I guess I'll go inside..." "I don't think so, dear. Remember we rented out the front room to that veteran and his family...")

(Well, you must admit he does capture Leo's voice.)

(Mrs. Pruneface!!!)

(Yeah yeah yeah. Tell me, did you use her eyebrow pencil, or did you buy one of your own?)

(Two hats that pass in the night...)

(Um.)

("But I NEVER chase cars!")