The Era -- Day By Day

[Fading Fast]

"Leonoreh??," gasps Sally. "Cryin'???" "Yeh," affirms Alice...

We have to learn more about this event. How old is Lottie?

Separately, it's funny to see how respectfully the UN is treated. Today, obviously, it's all but ignored. Growing up in the '70s and '80s it still had some modest global currency (emphasis on modest). So it took eighty years to go from international hope to ventilator.

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And it probably isn't even real cinnamon.

They certainly made a few movies about drug stores being bullied by gangsters into selling counterfeit products, but it seemed like more of a 1930s thing. Today, however, we just call them third party sellers on Amazon.

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"Five bucks? In these days of rampant postwar inflation?"

I hear ya, but still, the inflation calculator says it's ~$85 today.

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Tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick...

"Not good business....but neither is it very good democracy."

 

[LizzieMaine]

Lottie's seven, and in 2-A, so she's got a year and a few pounds on these schoolyard bullies. This incident has nothing whatsoever to do with my memories of my own first day of school, but if Sal's anything like my own mother...

Per Mr. Mardo's point, there's always been a strong theory that Mr. Rickey's enthusiasm for integration was motivated as much by the turnstile as by a sense of social justice. "Doing well by doing good" was once the common phrase...

 

[Fading Fast]

Lottie's seven, and in 2-A, so she's got a year and a few pounds on these schoolyard bullies. This incident has nothing whatsoever to do with my memories of my own first day of school, but if Sal's anything like my own mother...

Per Mr. Mardo's point, there's always been a strong theory that Mr. Rickey's enthusiasm for integration was motivated as much by the turnstile as by a sense of social justice. "Doing well by doing good" was once the common phrase...

When I was younger, I saw, "Doing well by doing good," as being somewhat corrupted, now I think the opposite: if doing well and good combine, it is probably sustainable. Plus, I've become very suspicious of "do gooders" who "don't care about themselves." The world could do with less of them and more of people who want to do well with integrity.

So, unless I miss my guess, Sally will be coming in late to work tomorrow.

 

[Harp]

I heartily concur with ex GI Richard Cromwell's marital advice regarding marriage
after service sowing of wild oats. I got out at twenty, and now a septuagenarian, I am
still not ready for banns, altar, or attendant obligations pertaining thereunto therefore land.

Is it just me; or, does Nasty not seem familiar? A certain lady celebrity comes to mind....

 

[LizzieMaine]

("I assure you, Mrs. Petrauskas," assures the principal of Public School 48, her hands folded primly behind the deskplate identifyng her as Miss Alice Ring, "that the pupils involved in Monday's incident have been disciplined according to school policy. And I'm afraid to say that includes your daughter." "What??" growls Sally. "She's being kept inside during recess for the remainder of this week," declares Miss Ring. "Howcome SHE's gett'n punished??" glares Sally, her Irish rising. "T'em ot'eh kids was t'ones stawrted it!" "Miss Kiefer, your daughter's teacher advises me," explains Miss Ring, "that Leonora made several cutting remarks to other pupils earlier in the day. And, when Miss Kiefer began the day's lesson, she reports that your daughter produced this magazine and began to very ostentatiously ignore that lesson." Miss Ring frowns as she slides a copy of "New Masses" across the desk. "I wondehed why I couln' fin'at," Sally mutters. "All else aside," challenges Miss Ring, "do you really feel that your daughter should read such material?" "She c'n read any'ting she wants," shrugs Sally. "How else is she gonna loin any'ting?' "Ah," replies Miss Ring, her hands flexing on the desk. "I should tell you, Mrs. Petrauskas," she continues, "that I do not, as a matter of general principle, agree with this idea of 'skipping' pupils ahead a grade or more. Oh, the practice may have its place for a very few advanced students in the higher grades. But do you really believe that a child who has just turned five, no matter her intellectual abilities, has any real place among children a year or more older than she is?" "Docteh Minkoff t'inks so," retorts Sally. "Yes," nods Miss Ring, 'I've read his notes. And the Board of Education may decide what it will. But regardless of what her freak abilities might be..." Sally's eyes dilate ominously. "You cawlin'," she breathes, "my lit'l goil a FREAK?" "That isn't what I..." jitters Miss Ring. "Y'wanna know what ELSE is a freak?" glowers Sally, slowly rising from her chair....)

("I'm glad you were able to come in on short notice," greets Mr. Sobol. "Yeh," sighs Rosa, her skates and clothing bag in hand. "Joe run outta meat, an' gimme t' day awff. What'sa routine 'nis time? I pull Mayehoff aroun' awna leash?" "Actually, we have something else in mind for you on tomorrow's show," declares Sobol, leading Rosa to a corner of the studio, where a stagehand is applying a final lick of paint to an enormous Chase & Sanborn Coffee can fashioned from cardboard. "You'll love this," assures Sobol. "You gotta be kidd'n," exhales Rosa.....)

("Because Fulton Lewis Jr. said we should, that's why!")

(Somebody better be keeping track of all that loose money...)

(Guess Minnie hasn't been reading the papers...)

(Why must everybody talk about meat?)

(Hope this job offers Blue Cross.)

(Trick or treat!)

(It's always a risk playing an old act in a new town...)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

"Alfonzo Gonzalez Pardo, the moneybags from Peru." Hey, it scans!

New York's Picture Newspaper...

Strike while the iron is cold...

"Sale! Buy it by the carboy!"

Look, even the monkey's figured this out...

"Oops."

You've had a headache for over thirty years. Ever wonder why?

I bet, before the war, Bix was a real dawg.

See how it all ties together?

Moon believes in the theory of "hard money."

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Worker...

The lines are drawn...

 

[Fading Fast]

"Y'wanna know what ELSE is a freak?" glowers Sally, slowly rising from her chair....

I'm scared and I'm eighty years and a universe away. "Freak abilities" was a really stupid phrase for her to use.

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

"Alfonzo Gonzalez Pardo, the moneybags from Peru." Hey, it scans!

The wife is strikingly pretty, but based on what she told us, she should be going for a lump sum payment as this guy will never ever – EVER – continue with monthly alimony payment no matter what some judge rules.

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

"Oops."

Just when you try to hate her less, she gives you another reason to hate her more.

 

[Harp]

Mrs Ann Pardo is petitioning over a half mil spousal lien after hubby Alfonzo legally transferred
substantial assets to Canada and Peru. And four grand per mo with another twenty K legal
retainer. Court is not in position to accommodate the gorgeous Ann; however, Al should have his
counsel tender contractual offer to her as common law spouse. She's too hot to simply cut
loose. Res ipsa loquitur babycakes.

Nasty took a chill spill. No doubts whatsoever who she reminds me of.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("T'anks f' bringin' it out," nods Joe, helping Solly Pincus unload the sacks of dried potatoes from Uncle Frank's truck. "Eh," ehs Solly. "I can't sell t' stuff, not when y'c'n get t' real ones. If it wasn't f' Frank swipin' it t' make'at rotgut he sells, I wou'n have no room inna waehhouse." "I got a load a' chicken an' fish comin' in," sighs Joe. "Long's'at fryeh we got wit' t' buildin' holds out, we got Big Joe's Chickwich an' Fishwich t' sell. An'neeze p'tatehs make a nice batteh." "An' if y'got any lef'," chuckles Solly, "in a coupla mont's, y' c'n make latkes!" "Oy," eyerolls Joe...)

("I sweaht'gawd, Alice," insists Sally. "I neveh laid'a hand awneh. I jus' stood up t' make my pernt, an' I leaned oveh t' desk an' I knocked oveh t'at bot'la ink she had open, an' spilt it right inneh lap. But I NEVEH LAID A HAND AWNEH!" "An'nen'ney t'rew ya out," headshakes Alice. "Awrful." "T'ey can't make it stick," growls Sally. "R'membeh, t'at school is wheh we go t' vote, an'ney CAN'T ban me outta t'eh. It's unconstitutional!" "I din' know t' constitution said anyt'ing 'bout dumpin' ink awn principals," shrugs Alice. "It otta," growls Sally, as the train rolls on toward Jersey...)

("I hate t'is t'ing," complains Rosa, her voice echoing inside the giant cardboard coffee can. "An' I can't see wheh I'm goin'." "Don't turn your head," directs Mr. Sobol. "Just keep your head straight and look thru that mesh. When the studio lights come up full you'll be able to see fine." "It's stupid," mutters Alice. "Hey Murray!" calls Mr. Mayehoff. "What about this. When I cue the commerical I could say 'and here she is, rolling out of grocery store windows all over America -- our can on wheels, Miss Chasin' Sanborn!" "It's stupid!" declare Mr. Sobol and Rosa, in perfect harmony...)

("And seein's we's havin' us a meat shortage....naw, I couldn't do it...)

("As tight as a bullfighter's pants." Hey, anyone heard from Mungo lately?)

("Ew, spongy.")

("Well, that's a six-fifty pair of wedgies shot to hell...")

("Guess we'll have to take him out and sh oot him. Yep, it's the code of the West.")

(Urban squirrel hunting is very popular. How do you think Jane Arden got her coat?)

("Don't dig in your cans until they're filled.")

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

"August Busch?" I had no idea the beer business had gotten so bad.

At the offices of The Coca-Cola Company, a line of lawyers in identical charcoal-gray suits reports for duty...

The counter gal seem to be taking this all very much in stride...

"Look, kid, do I have to draw you a diagram?"

And you do need practice...

If you're going to be a terrifying avenger of the night, you'll need a better hat.

Destiny calls.

She's no Raven Sherman...

You have to admire the beauty of the choreography...

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Worker...

Mayors of New York have infinite authority, they think.

 

[Fading Fast]

"...I leaned oveh t' desk an' I knocked oveh t'at bot'la ink she had open, an' spilt it right inneh lap. But I NEVEH LAID A HAND AWNEH!"

What we learned from the train conductor incident is that Sally is, how shall we say this, not the most reliable reporter of her own behavior in situations like this.

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

Urban squirrel hunting is very popular. How do you think Jane Arden got her coat?

I truly believe you'd feel better if you admitted it was sable and were just happy for her.

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

Re Howard Hughes

Wait till he does it for four years in a row.

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

Destiny calls.

I don't remember: does the girl know he's handicapped?

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

Mayors of New York have infinite authority, they think.

We are seeing that mistaken thinking play out again in NYC right now with our new DSA mayor.

 

[Harp]

I am always impressed by this thread's generous exposure to the journalism of the Era;
particularly the New York political scene, topped local tales hither and yon. Quite a smorgasbord.

Nasty might just have been struck blind Cupid courtesy Charles. Seems the lad's bluster if not
bluff over Ms Hyphenated has been seen and raised. Considerably.

The Iriquois Stakes kick off the 2027 Kentucky Derby point chase at Churchill Downs later this afternoon with a full stakes card. I favor Baffert's #7 Saluhidin to romp over #2 Blessed Flyer; #6 Antivenom; and
#1 Caribbean Life.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Ah," replies Mr. Ginsburg, leaning on his subway seat toward his companion's good ear. "So this is your plan." "Yeh," yehs Leonora, her arms folded as she sinks back against the seat back. "It's t' on'y anseh. Runnin' away." "I see," nods Mr. Ginsburg. "T'ey make me go t' t'at rotten school foeh days a week," fumes Leonora, "an' on'y one day t' t' clinic. An' I gotta be aroun' babies t'at pull my haieh. An'nat Miss Kiefeh, she's a red-baiteh. Took away my magazine!" "A difficult situation it is," agrees Mr. Ginsburg. "You ain' gonna tell Docteh Minkoff?" scowls Leonora. "Oh, no," assures Mr. Ginsburg. "In fact, a story I am reminded. A boy once I knew. At school, a mean, cruel teacher he had. When his lessons he did not complete, this teacher would yank by the ear and spank him." "Miss Kiefeh betteh not touch MY eeh," warns Leonora. "Well," continues Mr. Ginsburg, "this boy one day said 'No more! I will run away!' And that night, he did just that. But his father, he is finding him and brings him home, and beats him. And to him he says 'if you cannot study, you worthless boy, you must WORK!' So he sold his son as an apprentice to a mean, cruel master, who is making him to work sixteen hours a day!" Mr. Ginsburg glances down at his companion, who is absorbed in the tale. "Years are passing," he resumes. "Angrier and angrier grows the boy. And one night he decides again he will run away, to live in the woods with the animals. So in the moonlight he runs away from the master, and in the woods is making for himself a bed of leaves. And he is sleeping and dreaming one day he will live as he may please. And in the morning he is waking and he opens his eyes, and what does he see? A BEAR! A great brown bear sniffing at him like your breakfast you are sniffing! And the boy knows he must RUN AWAY! And he does. And by and by he is reaching a town by the sea, where there is a great ship, about to sail for a land far away. 'I shall run away to this new land!' the boy is thinking. And when there is no one looking, he is boarding the ship, and away he goes, across the sea, to a new land." Leonora stares, transfixed by the tale. "But when he arrives," continues Mr. Ginsburg, "what is happening? At him people are laughing. At his clothes, at his speaking, they laugh. And names they call him. 'Greenhorn!' 'Dummkopf!' And woise! And only can he find woik picking shmattes with a hundred other boys! And to himself he is thinking, 'I will RUN AWAY!' But then he is realizing -- where is LEFT to run? So instead is the boy deciding to woik hard and do his best to loin a good trade. And, mine lameleh, do you know who is that boy?" Leonora ponders. "Well," she sighs. "It ain't Uncle Frank....")

("It ain't broke, is it?" wonders Sammy. "No," sighs Rosa. "Just a lit'l sprain. T'at noice t'ey got at NBC says it'll be fine in a few days. But no skatin' till nex' week." "I don't like this one bit," glares Shirley. "You should have an x-ray." "Maybe ya ol' man can do it," shrugs Rosa. "I can stick my foot in my mout'." "It's not funny," frowns Shirley. "They had no business putting you in that stupid coffee can without making the hole big enough to see out of. You could sue." "I dunno," despairs Rosa. "On'a ot'eh han', t'ey gimme an extra ten bucks t' do t' commoicial, 'toppa t' fouehteen f' doin' t' show. T'at's twenny foueh bucks, an' I got foueh mout's t' feed. Six bucks a mout'..." "...Isn't very much," frowns Shirley. "Sobol says t'me 't'at was GREAT," relates Rosa. "T'way y' took t'at fawl! Mayehoff neveh knew what hit 'im!' T"ey hadda stop t' show, people was laughin' so hawrd." "Didja tawk t' Joe?" questions Sammy. "Yeh," exhales Rosa. "He jus' gimme a look an' says 'whateveh.' An'nen he jus' wen' inside t' stand an' din' say nut'n else...")

("A picture of the Smithsonian Institution? Who was in that?")

(I actually had an Aunt Kate, and I DON'T think she could have fielded that ball.)

(Eventually a fad catches on and everybody does it...)

(You know, you don't have to take either of them.)

(You'll take care of the bills? Better get that in writing.)

(Well, if it was easy, everybody'd do it.)

(Enjoy it while you can...)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

"I think it's a matter of not seeing eye to eye." Well, that goes without saying.

Now here's a News crusade I can get behind.

You know there's something big coming when Mr. Gray breaks out the shadows...

"Do you find that 1-A is full of babies?"

Ezekiel 7:19.

Goose Brain > Goose Face.

And besides, Walt was the same way with Skeez when HE was a baby.

We all play our roles in the Game of Life...

Have you considered television?

"Ah yes, our extra large safety deposit boxes..."

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Worker...

It's bad enough to give up a homer in a situation like that, but when you give it up to JOE GARAGIOLA...

 

[Fading Fast]

"It ain't Uncle Frank...."

Perfect.

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You know, you don't have to take either of them.

I was thinking the same thing. But there's also this: what exactly does she bring to the table? She doesn't seem like any joy to me.

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

Just sayin'.

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"I think it's a matter of not seeing eye to eye." Well, that goes without saying.

Good one. It's also all so silly in general, plus, for what it is worth, Ms. Lockwood is hardly endowed like Ms. Russell.

 

[Harp]

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View attachment 809863 View attachment 809865

Just sayin'.

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"I think it's a matter of not seeing eye to eye." Well, that goes without saying.

Good one. It's also all so silly in general, plus, for what it is worth, Ms. Lockwood is hardly endowed like Ms. Russell.

Mrs Ann Pardo is so exquisite, and I see some resemblance to this lovely rose divorce
seeking beauty with the cartoon female sketch; although I do not recognize the latter
image nor what comic strip address she resides.

Jane Russell was a 38-24-36 C-cup whose measurements amounted a 34D brassiere.
She's unfastened above and lovely Ms Lockwood loses a ***-for-tat contest.

Yesterday's Iriquois was scratched out which ruined its handle. I placed two superfectas
consequently invalid and refunded. Baffert's boy Salahudin gained the win and paid $3.
Reviewing the race, I should have checked for scratches thirty minutes before race,
canceled my affected, and put a grand down with Bob's kid. A superb steed and an easy kill
even with a scratched handle. Mea culpa maxima. Rest of the card all good but I really botched
the tenth race.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("That's enoof'a that now!" snaps Ma. "Oice cream doon't groo aaan trees!" "I gotta be sueh it ain't sperlt," retorts Bink Scanlan, rasping the scoop in the bottom of the cardboard cylinder. "Awlese kids come in'eeh afteh school ev'ry day. You wanna make'm sick sellin'm sperlt ice cream?" "If it ain't kilt YOU yet," growls Ma, "Oi don't think it's gooin' t' baaather thim none. Look a'tchee. Yaar gooin' t' weigh foive hoondred pounds!" "I am not," sniffs Bink, satisfied at the contents of her little tin dish. "Ice cream is good f'ra noicin' mot'eh. It's made out'a milk, ain'it? It's like whenya put t' syrup innat Coke d'penseh. Y'gotta keep it tawpped awff." "Wharrr'd'jee read THAT?" snorts Ma. "In that Oooncle Spock book aaar'yaaars?" "No book," sniffs Bink, pumping chocolate sauce into the dish. "It's jus' common sense." "Gaaaaaahd help," sighs Ma, "thaaaat choild....")

("Whed'ja get t' tickets?" questions Alice. "I hoid it was sold out." "Uncle Frank," declares Sally. "Oh," ohs Alice. "Lissen, you betteh hold'm upta t' light foist." "What?" "Nut'n." "Anyways," continues Sally, "I been t'inkin' awl week 'bout what Docteh Levine said. 'Bout Leonoreh. An' I t'ought it'd be good f'rus t' spen' some good time t'geteh. An' what's betteh'na bawl game?" "HEY!" calls a shrill yelp from across the street. "HEY!" repeats the voice. "WHAT?" bellows Sally. "I jus' wan'ed t' tell ya," pants Lottie Schreibstein, pulling up after her dash across 63rd Street. "I jus' wan'ed t' tell ya I ain' gonna let t'em brats in 1-A pick awn Leonoreh." "I hoid you stood up fawr 'eh," nods Sally. "T'at's a good t'ing you done." "You be sueh an' tell Sawrgent Solly I done'at," smirks Lottie, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet. "Yeh," agrees Sally. "B'sides," declares Lottie, as she bounces back into the street. "Anybody's gonna pull'eh haieh, it's gonna be ME...")

(All of life is a matter of return on investment...)

("Well look who's heeh!" bellows Hilda Chester, as she spies two familiar figures wending down the steps of Section 37. "G'wan, ya bum," she growls, pushing a pudgy gentleman in a sleeveless undershirt off his bleacher seat. "Show some cout'! Let a coupla ladies have a seat!" "Hi Hilda," sighs Sally, assuming the seat. "Leonoreh, siddown. If you wanna hot dawg, tell me, don' pick stuff up awffa t'at filt'y concrete." "Hiya Leonoreh," greets Hilda, plopping her into a seat. "Take a load awff. Hey, whe'z me boy Joe?" "Out t' Ozone Pawrk," sighs Sally. "Sellin' fish an' chicken." "Ehh," frowns Hilda. "Yeh," nods Sally. "I'm in 1-A," injects Leonora. "An' I hate it. It's fulla babies." "Oh," gapes Hilda, flicking a quizzical glance at Sally. "I tell ya kid," she continues, fixing Leonora in as maternal a gaze as she can muster. "I wisht I coulda gone t' school, studied me lessons, an' made sump'n'a meself. You wanna study hawrd like ya Ma heeh." "HMPH," snorts Leonora, as Sally feels the heat rising on her neck....)

(I wonder if the Pope wants to get in on this...)

(Page Four, here we come...)

("Oh, what's the use. Tubby, get my coat. And wear gloves this time...")

(HEY KIDS TRY THIS STUNT ON DAD)

(Let's get right to the heart of the issue...)