The Era -- Day By Day

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

I'm sure they'll enjoy minutes of happiness together.

Ew.

"I mean, that's what they tell me."

This is it? He's not going to be stung to death by bees? He's not going to overdose on laughing gas? You're slipping, Gould.

"First, don't hold it so close to your face, those hot casings burn."

He gets all the assignments Ernie Pyle doesn't want.

"I can handle this, sir. I've -- been thru it before."

"That Hildegarde, though -- what a snob!"

I respect them for giving it the run of the house.

"Wait'll you see what she says about enemas."

 

[LizzieMaine]

And also...

AND IT COMES OUT OF A DOLPHIN'S MOUTH. IT COULD JUST COME OUT OF A PLAIN FAUCET SPOUT, BUT IT COMES OUT OF A DOLPHIN'S MOUTH. SERIOUSLY IS THAT GREAT OR WHAT?

 

[Fading Fast]

I did not think Caniff would kill off another character, especially a woman, after Raven Sherman, but I'm not feeling so sure about that anymore.

And yes, the coffee coming out of the dolphin's mouth is fanfreakintastic.

 

[LizzieMaine]

Recall also that Grett has been established as, at least, knowing Dude Hennick -- she sent a letter addressed to him when they were all back at the base. If they're setting up Dude's return, I would hope it would be not under these circumstances. How much can he take?

 

[FOXTROT LAMONT]

Grett is now raison d'etre sure to live if Caniff pencils this script line delivery. And Terrence in the know.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Fats Walleh," sighs Joe, resting the paper on the cafeteria table. "I'll neveh f'get goin' t'see him, me'n Sal -- t'at's me wife -- upta t'Yacht Club, you know, up on 52nd, one New Yeeh's Eve." "Oh yeh?" replies Miss Kaplan, between chews of a dry corned beef sandwich. "You gota nightclubs do ya?" She chuckles thru a mouthful of sandwich. "Wouldn' figyeh ya f't'type." "Well, no," demurs Joe. "We useta go out dancin' a lot, Sal 'n me, befoeh t'baby, befoeh t'wawr, but we usual jus' wenta Roselan'. But t'is one time, we t'ought, y'know, we'd go inta t'City f'New Yeehs Eve, see what it was awla 'bout. T'oity-eight, I t'ink it was, somewheah aroun'eah. An' we, you know, looked oveh what was goin' on in Time Squeah, you know, an'nen jus' stawrted wawkin' alawng, wawkin' up Sevent' Aveneh, soakin' it awl in, an' when we come t'52nd, well, y'know, t'ings was really hoppin'. Y'had ya Hick'ry House t'eh, Joe Marsala playin' inneh, you know, real hot stuff. An'ya Onyx Club, an' Leon 'n Eddie's, an' awlem places. An' we come to t'is jernt, t' Yacht Club, y'know? Big posteh out front, 'Fats Walleh in poisson, an' his orchestreh.' Well, me'n Sal had awl his rec'eds, y'know, so we dig down an' come up wit' jus' enough dough b'tween us f' t' coveh chawrge. Ev'ry cent we had. An' we go in', can't affoehd no drinks a' nut'n, so we don' sit at no table, we just kin'a get out onna floeh t'eh bes' we could an' stawrt dancin'. An' Fats Walleh sees us t'eh -- an' y'know mosta t'ese people inneh is a pretty ritzy crowd, you know, an' heeh wee awr, coupla kids f'm Brooklyn -- an' Fats Walleh seehs us a' pernts us out an' says 'hel-lo! hel-lo!' an' we go inta t'is move, an' I flip Sal oveh me back, an' Fats Walleh waves to us, an' says 'well it's AWN now, it's awn it's awn!' an' keeps on' playin'. An' we musta been t'eh t'ill 'ey closed t' jernt. An' weeh 'zausted an' we realize we ain' got no money lef' t'get home, so we figyeh we gotta, you know, hoof it. Awlaway backta Brooklyn. We gotta hoof it. So we stawrt out wawkin', y'know, an' we get downa' bout T'oity-t'oid street, y'know, laughin' awla while about havin' t'wawk awla way backta Brooklyn, an' Sal says 't'at's it, I can't go no foit'eh,' so we jus' kin'a set down onna sidewawk f'ra minute, right in fronna t' Pennsylvania Hotel, y'know. An' we'eh sit'n'neh, an'nis cab pulls up, an'neese two swells get out, y'know, awl dressed up fit t'kill, an' feelin' no pain', right? An'na guy sees us sitt'n'eh, an'na gal pernts an' laughs at us, an'na guy reaches in'is pawket an' flips us a dime. Well, Sal, y'know, she t'akes 'at poissonal, an' cawlsa guy a 'petty booge-wah rat' a'sump'n, but I says, I says -- 'hey looka what I foun' ona sidewawk t'at some petty booge-wah rat musta lawst. A dime! Cawrfaeh home!" An' Sal looks at me, an' I look at heh, an' we bot' bust out laughin'. An'nen we get up an' go downa subway an' ride home." Joe sighs at the memory. "T'at was t'bes' New Yeeh's Eve'a me life. An' now Fats Walleh is dead, an' me an' Sal don' go out dancin' no moeh." "Eh," ehs Miss Kaplan, dabbing her mouth with a paper napkin. "I don' go in f'dancin mese'f. I'm moeh'a yeh intellectual type." "Well," shrugs Joe. "So's Sal. An' I tellyeh right now, she was a very intellectual danceh.")

Five weary experts on juvenile delinquency and the situation in Bedford-Stuyvesant faced members of the Brooklyn Citizen's League and announced that the time for meetings and parlor talk is over and the time for action has come. "I wish there was a meeting to end all meetings," declared the Rev. Charles O. Bermingham, representing the Catholic Youth Organization. "I'm getting tired of going around from one neighborhood council to another. A definite job of co-ordination should take place, and the Brooklyn Council for Social Planning should do it. Putting up a smokescreen of community councils won't accomplish anything. We've got to work thru a powerful citywide organization that can accomplish what the grand jury -- if it succeeded in nothing else -- succeeded in doing, that is, put a fire under certain officials."

The new regime controlling the American Labor Party in Brooklyn has launched a carefully-planned campaign to persuade the unaligned Brooklyn voter that politics has ceased to be the happy hunting ground of the poker-playing clubhouse-bum type of politician. ALP officials today began distribution to its workers of a 2000-word pamphlet entitled "Canvassing Guide," which outlines procedures and points for conversation to be used by door-to-door workers and volunteers in talking with the voters leading up to next year's elections. Reading between the lines of the booklet reveals an ALP strategy built around drawing Roosevelt Democrats and liberal Republicans away from the two major parties to form a coalition movement with the ALP for 1944. The pamphlet urges ALP volunteers to let householders see that they're regular neighbors, and not "old time clubhouse loafers," and urges an appeal ot Democratic voters pointing to the division in that party between pro-Roosevelt progressive forces and reactionary Southern Democrats. Representative Martin Dies (D-Tex) ad Senator Robert McReynolds (D-NC) are cited as specific examples of the latter.

(OK, Joe. Back to work.)

(Stick around, oh, eighty years...)

(The "Claudia" franchise, which was extremely popular across multiple media in the 1940s, tells the story of a man in his forties marrying an 18-year-old. I'm surprised Chaplin never held an option.)

Two members of the Jehovah's Witnesses were convicted today of draft evasion. 20 year old Albin Budner of Valley Stream and 21 year old Harold Chamblee of 531 Washington Avenue were found guilty of refusing to report for induction in Brooklyn Federal Court, and will be sentenced December 23. The two defendants had argued unsuccessfully that they were exempt from induction as ministers of their sect.

("Funny man," hmphs Ma to herself. "Thaat Durocharr is sooch a funny funny man." Her musings are interrupted by a jingle at the door, and she looks up to greet her customer. "Why Mistarr Krause, is it," she announces. "What c'n I get ye?" "Um," ums Krause, "Te'y tell me Leary t' Plumbeh hangs aroun' heeh, an' I -- ah -- gotta jawb f'rm oveh t'house, y'know? He come oveh las' win'eh an', uh, y'know, convoited us oveh f'coal, an' -- um -- t'es a coupla t'ings wit' t'foinace I wan'ed he sh'd look at..." "Well," nods Ma, "Mistarr Leary's up at his shop this toime'a day -- up on Bedford Avenaar, just paaast Crown Street. Go a block paaast th'baahlpark, ye caan't miss it. Big soin oot front, F. Leary & Sons Ploombin' an' Heatin'." "Oh," nods Krause. "Yeh. Oh. I awmos'f'got," he continues, gesturing with a bulky parcel under his arm." "Um, me an' Alice, y'know, Alice Dooley, um, 'y'know, t'at's who I'm get'n married to, um, we t'ought t'boy, um, Willie, might liketa have a Chrismas' presn'. We got it at Namm's t'ot'eh night." Krause places the parcel on the counter. "It's -- um -- one'a t'em whatchacawl Tinkeh Toy sets. Y'know, f'buildin' stuff. We figyeh, y'know, he likes t' build t'ings wit strawrs, maybe he be good at buildin' stuff wit', you know, sticks, an' awlat." "Thaat's varry kind'a ye, Mistarr Krause," nods Ma. "I'm sure he'll enjoyyy thaat very mooch." "Awright, um," stammers Krause. "Well'en, I be seein' ya." "Good day t'ye, Mistarr Krause." Ma watches him go, and considers the parcel. "Well," she wells to herself. "What do ye' know about thaaat.")

(USE ONLY AS DIRECTED)

(Flying cadet huh? Corkin would eat you for breakfast.)

(Yeah, right.)

(118 pounds, huh? Good thing you don't work at a meat counter.)

(Doesn't the SPCA ever get around to this neighborhood?)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

C'mon, Tommy -- give Doris a call. You know you want to.

And here I thought Morton Downey never drank anything stronger than Coke.

Annie will get a new clipboard for Christmas with her name stamped in gold.

Well, at least she's not out lying in the middle of a mountain road.

HOSPITALS? THEY'RE FOR HONEST CITIZENS YOU FELON!

Now where'd I put that detonator? DAMMIT.

Well, these days that's hardly an obstacle.

You're gonna cut them in for royalties when the book sells, right?

C'mon now, Christmas is coming and you're gonna be hungry.

I'm still annoyed we didn't actually get to see him drafted, but it was long overdue.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And also...

Imagine how John McDonald must feel.

 

[Fading Fast]

Krause and Alice met at the right time in their lives. Five or ten years earlier, they wouldn't have been ready for each other. (Well, Alice might not have been "available" for part of that time, too.)

Sometimes Caniff's storytelling is so good, I don't give the illustrations enough credit, but they are impressive. Today's are so freakin' good. Very WWII iconic.

 

[FOXTROT LAMONT]

Mr Caniff may have tipped his cards by Grett's comatose utterings overheard Terrence, so presumably she'll
pull through this incident to break the lad's heart.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Oold maan shooda kept his hat aaahn," mutters Ma, glaring at the photo of Mr. Churchill. Her reverie is interrupted, however, by the jingling of the door, induced by the hulking form of Jimmy Leary. "Y'wanned t'see me?" Jimmy inquires, assuming a stiff pose before the counter, but stopping short of a salute. "Oi did," declares Ma, pushing the newspaper aside. "Oi've gaaht a job farr ye. I waant ye to do some maar investigatin'. An' I want ye to do a better jaahb than ye done troyin' to foind that Marie Belasco." "Yes'm," gulps Jimmy. "Thar's a sarrrrtain man I want to knoow aboot," contiues Ma. "His name is Sid Krause. He's the janitaar or soomthin' ovar to that buildin' in Bensonharrst where Sally an' Joseph live. He's goin' to marry Alice Dooley." "He is?" gulps Jimmy. "Whoi should you care aboot that?" snaps Ma. "Um, I don' mean nut'n by it," stammers Jimmy. "Jus' -- well, you know what hapn't t'Mickey when he was goin' wit'..." "This haaas noothin' to do with that," dismisses Ma. "Oi know aahl aboot Alice Dooley. Whaaat Oi want t'know is what koind of a man is this Krause. Whaar'see coom froom, who's his friends, what's his haabits. Is he a drinkin' maan, dooes he roon aroond, does he gaamble, haaas he goot a recarrd. Oi want to know everything tharr is to knoow aboot him, and I don't waant him to know I'm checkin' oop ahhn him. Ye know whaat I want." "Yes'm," nods Jimmy, scrawling in a small notebook. "An' anoothar thing," adds Ma. "Oi don't want ye mussin' anybody oop. Gaffney's been useless to me since ye got done with 'im. Oi told ye to foind out what he knew, not boost his head in an' look ovarr his brains! He slinks aroond here now loike a cat got 'is tail caaaght in the kitchen door." "Well," protests Jimmy, "y'said t'do what we seen fit, an', um, wel, we kin'a seen fit t'..." "Oi'll have noon'a that," commands Ma. "Ye do as I tell ye. An' that goes farr Daniel too. You boys aaain't p'licemen, so don' think ye haave tact loike 'em." "No ma'am," nods Jimmy, his eyes deflected downward. "Now off with ye," directs Ma. "An' naaaht a warrrd t'noboody aboot this." Ma watches Jimmy depart on his errand, her arms folded, her face displaying an inscrutable frown.)

Monsignor John R. Belford today vehemently denied that his parishioners in Bedford-Stuyvesant are staying away from evening church services because the parish has discontinued bingo games. Responding to a charge from Special Sessions Justice Myles R. Paige published earlier this week in the Brooklyn Eagle, Msgr. Belford declared that the R. C. Church of the Nativity is a church "where bingo never had a place," adding that bingo may have been played "two, three or five times" at the church in the past, but, the Monsignor asserted, there have been no "general games" in the church in the ten years in which he has been there. He did, however, acknowledge that some of the church societies have had "combination dice, card, and bingo evenings" from time to time, "just for the members." Msgr. Belford demanded a public apology from Justice Paige for his remarks. "No liar who does not make adequate restitution can be forgiven," stated Msgr. Belford, "because he has not sincere sorrow."

("You get a Chris'mas tree yet?" queries Alice. "Nah," replies Sally. "We ain' been able t'fin' one smawl enough. We ain' got room f'no big tree in'nat lit'l apawrtm'n, an' we usual jus' set one up onna toppa t'at lit'l table we got. You know, a lit'l bitty one, one stringa lights awn it. We gotta put it up high t'ough, so Stella don' tip it oveh. But t'is yeeh -- well, who's got t'time? I'm woikin', Joe's woikin', we'eh runnin' Leonoreh awla'roun'. Who's got t'time? Maybe we'll jus' use Ma's tree, I dunno. I ain' feelin' too Chrismasy anyways. worryin' about ev'ryt'ing." "I give Siddy a tree," says Alice. "I foun'is litt'l one innat vacan' lot oveh by Sixty-Fois' Street. An' I brung it oveh an' give it t'Siddy. He's got it stuck inna coal bin, on toppa t'is lit'l pile'a coal he raked up. An' we put tin'sl onnit, an' we brung home some popcawrn las' time we wen' oveh t' t' RKO Dykeh, an' I strung it up an' stuck it onna tree t'eh. I dunno what kin' of a tree it is, maybe it ain' even any kin' of a tree, I t'ink it might act'chlly be a bush a' sump'n, but it, y'know, makes t'basem'n kin'a festival." "I t'ought he had a reg'lar apawrtmn' downeah," asks Sally. "You don' mean t'say he's livin' right nexta t'berleh, is he?" "Oh no," responds Alice. "He's got t'at lit'l apawrtm'n, y'c'n see inside'eh, when ya look in at' litt'le windeh next'a sidewawlk wit' t' bawrs on it. I don' like t'at windeh t'ough, an' when I move in'neh, I'm gonna ask Siddy if wec'n -- um -- take t'em bawrs awff. I seen awla bawrs I eveh wanna." Sally offers a quizzical side glance. "Inna movies," hastens Alice. "Innem Wallace Beery movies.")

The nation's liquor distillers, importers, and wholesale distributors were accused today by the New York State Liquor Authority of hoarding whisky. A report based on the findings of a survey of inventories and warehouses conducted over the first ten months of 1943 concluded that present stocks of bulk whisky will last approximately four and one half years. Firms licensed in New York, the report found, have been releasing whisky in such small quantities as to stretch that supply beyond five and three-quarters years. The report warns firms "not distributing their product in a manner conducive to efficient regulation" that they risk the loss of licenses if they fail to adjust their procedures.

The "flat top" hairstyle is already on the way out, before many women have bothered even to adopt it. New coiffure news for Spring predicts the return of the pompadour silhouette, although not so high as we have been accustomed to. Hairstylist Mr. Louis, who has launched most of the important hair fashions of the past decade, says the flat-top has been "mishandled," and will soon be replaced by a simpler arrangement with the hair placed up in the front and away from the face. Overall length, however, figures to be shorter.

(Nothing says Christmas like lobsters boiling on an open fire.)

The Eagle Editorialst thunders that making Brooklynites go all the way to Manhattan to appeal ration-board decisions is "an outrage." The recent OPA decision to curtain the Brooklyn regional office "is now attempting the very thing Brooklynites have learned to fear -- centralized control outside the borough of functions vital to the life and welfare of the community."

("If he REALLY wants to be nice, he'll give me his shoe ration stamp!")

A psychiatrist with the United States Children's Bureau recommends that, to save their children "future shock," they never tell them about Santa Claus to begin with. "Evidently said psychiatrist never reads that 'Yes Virginia' letter that is due to make its annual appearance soon in the New York Sun."

The largest auxiliary force in post-office history has been taken on to help the Brooklyn mail get thru in time for Christmas. Borough Postmaster Frank Quayle says about ten thousand seasonal employees have been brought on across Brooklyn, many of them youngsters aged 16 to 17, to assist the regular staff. Local mail traffic is up approximately 10 to 15 percent over last Christmas.

("The current prolonged wail about Camilli." The Parrott squawks between the lines.)

(Put out that cigar, kid, you'll stunt your growth.)

(Remember Miss Snipe and Skeezix? This is what that could have been.)

(Creepy leering henchman is creepy.)

(Somebody's been reading their Ellery Queen.)

(No you won't, they laid him off in 1937.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

Groucho without his stage moustache always looks to me like a guy who works a drab job in an accountants' office while writing short stories for pulp magazines on the side. And god rest ya, Fats, you'll never be forgotten.

Well, there's pea coats, and then there's Davega pea coats.

The Junior Commandos -- WE NEVER SLEEP

The Red Cross in 1943 segregates blood by race. Army doctors might not read the labels.

A touching family reunion?

Better run this all by the OWI first.

Oh, he found a way to survive. Don't you know all corporals are clever schemers?

So, um, how is this different from before?

*snif*

Did you know pelicans produce a very foul odor when they're offended? I bet this banker does.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And also...

Coming Events Cast Their Shadows Before...

 

[Fading Fast]

I understand Alice's aversion to bars on windows, but she'll want those bars on a basement window in Brooklyn, even in the "safe" post war years, especially if she is , oh I don't know, raising a kid, anyone's kid.

 

[FOXTROT LAMONT]

Well Grett's in the clear. Terrence I don't think so.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("So soon?" queries Ma, looking up from the paper as Jimmy Leary enters. "Yeh," yehs Jimmy. "T'es a lotta gabby people in Bensonhoist, y'know t'at?" "So Oi've been told," snaps Ma. "Ahhl roit then. What did ye find oot?" "Lemme see," exhales Jimmy, withdrawing his notebook from his inside pocket and flipping the pages. "Awright. T'is guy Krause. He's foehty-five yeehs ol'. Bawrn in Yawrkville, folks come heeh f'm some lit'l town in Awstria, ol' man was a shoemakeh. He woiked in 'is ol'man's shop as a kid, but run't away f'm home when he was sixteen t'jern'a Navy. Nobody cawt awn, an' he was inneh till afteh t' wawr. Come out an' got a jawb onna docks heeh -- lived in Red Hook, married t'is gal name'a Bridget Sullivan. She died in chil'boit' about a yeeh lateh. Um -- kid died too. T'ey say he was pretty broke up about it. He kept on woikin'a docks till he broke 'is shouldeh an' couldn' do t'at kin'a liftin' no moeh. Woiked onna WPA coupla yeehs afteh t'at, an'nen gotta job as supeh innis buildin' on 63rd Street. Been'neh eveh since. Tenants like 'im awright. T'is one ol' guy lives onna fois' flooeh -- Alice Dooley woiks f'rm -- he says 'Krause is a good boy, a good boy. Could give us moeh steam, but a good boy." "Uh huh," nods Ma. "What aboot his habits?" "He's a real quiet guy, t'ey tell me. Afteh t'is Bridget died, he wen' out wit' a few women, awrways Irish gals, but neveh nut'n serious. He has a drink oncet'inna while, but neveh gets tight. B'longs to a lodge, an' goes oveh t'eh oncet'a week t'play pinochle. Plays t'numbehs oveh t' t'is jernt on 18t' Aveneh, Schriebman's -- uh, Schriebstein's -- maybe a quawteh a' fifty cents a week. Hits a little now'an'nen, mos' he eveh hit was fifty-foeh dollehs onna straight play, 'bout five yeehs ago. Awrways plays straight, neveh combinates. Bets on footbawl, but nut'n too serious. Neveh goes t'no hawrse races, an'nif'ee plays t'machines, nobody oveh t'eh eveh seen 'im do it. Don' know much about dice, but he don' seem t'type." "Has he got a recarrd?" interrogates Ma. "Well'at's intehrestin'," Jimmy continues. "T'es t'is cop oveh t'eh, name 'a Flannehry, an'ney say he's got it in f't'is guy Krause. Seems he was innehrested in Alice Dooley 'imse'f, an' when'nis Krause guy comes t'be t' head man, well, t'is cop Flannehry stawrts tryin' t'run 'im in on anyt'ing he c'n come up wit'. Litt'rin'a sidewawk, not cov'rin' gawrbage cans, 'at kin'a stuff. But he ain' been able t'make none of it stick. T'is sergeant owes me a faveh run a check on'im, an' nut'n come up. 'Clean as a colleh," t'sergean' says, 'an' straight as a string.' A'nnat's awl I got." "Hmmm," hmms Ma. She ponders briefly, and then dings open her till. Handing Jimmy a ten dollar bill, she dismisses him with a warning to "keep ye mouth shut," and returns to her thoughts.)

Indictments charging violations of the Selective Service Act have been returned by a Federal grand jury against nine defendants, including four from Brooklyn and one from Queens, and the men are due to be arriagned before Judge Grover Moscowitz in Brooklyn Federal Court on Monday. Two of the Brooklyn men, brothers Salvatore and Oreste Virzeva of 1299 Nostrand Avenue, were indicted for making false statements on draft questionnaires. Two others were charged with failing to report for induction as ordered. Another was indicted for failing to notify his draft board of a change of addess.

(Long Island is a nest of vice.)

A report by the City Council committee investigating the LaGuardia Administration charged in a report released today that Mayor LaGuardia obtained Federal funds for the Sanita Hills Summer Camp by making false statements on an application to the Works Progress Administration. The report alleges that in October 1941, the Mayor, when applying for the WPA money, "gave the impression that Sanita Hills is a public project," where in fact the camp is not city-owned, but is rather owned by Honor Welfare Relief Fund of the Department of Sanitation. The report further alleges that when the application was submitted, the Fund was merely renting the property for the camp from private owners, and that title did not pass to the Fund until two months later, under an agreement indicating that the property would be held in trust, to eventually be turned over to the city. The report also accuses the Mayor of transferring 94 decommissioned elevated railway cars owned by the city to the camp for use as bungalows, at a cost of $110,827, whereas they should have cost no more than $73,293.73.

President Roosevelt is back at the White House, following his participation in the Teheran Conference with Prime Minister Churchill and Premier Stalin, and is soon expected to publicly discuss the accomplisments of that conferece. Whether this will be done by an address to a joint session of Congress or by some other means has not yet been determined. The President has been abroad since November 11th, and it was not revealed how he traveled to and from the conference, whether by ship or by air.

Forty years ago today the Wright Brothers made the first successful powered flight at Kitty Hawk, North Carolina -- and the Eagle Editorialist marks the occasion by wondering if the Wrights would have proceeded with their work if they had an idea of how it would ultimately be used. "It was not the fault of the Wright brothers that their invention has been used for death," the EE notes. "They taught man how to leave the earth and how to fly thru the skies. That their teaching has brought misery as well as happiness to mankind is no fault of theirs."

("The devil you know...")

The first publisher to issue comic strips in book form has died at the age of 76. Arthur T. Leon, of the firm of Cupples & Leon, began issuing paper-bound books in 1905, containing such early comic favorites as Foxy Grandpa, Buster Brown, Happy Hooligan, Mutt & Jeff, The Katzenjammer Kids, and Bringing Up Father. Leon continued issuing such books, featuring such modern favorites as the Gumps, Little Orphan Annie, and Moon Mullins, up until about two years ago when he finally retired. His publications, selling at 25 cents per copy, reached a combined circulation of more than 35,000,000 copies over three and a half decades.

(Mr. Nicholson, so highly touted here by Mr. Parrott, also has an unfortunate tendency to strike out a lot -- so much so that the fans at Ebbets Field take great delight in, whenever he comes to bat, yelling a lusty SWIIIIIIIIIIIIISH whenever he swings and misses. He has earned from this the eternal and ever so unflattering nickname Bill "Swish" Nicholson, which he will carry for the rest of his days.)

Old Gold Cigarettes, a product of the P. Lorillard Company, will again sponsor Dodger baseball broadcasts over WHN in 1944. Club president Branch Rickey announced the new contract today, and although he did not confirm that Red Barber and Connie Desmond will again handle the broadcasts, it is assumed that they will return. Barber has been at the Ebbets Field microphone since the team inaugurated radio broadcasts in 1939, while Desmond joined him last summer.

("T City Dump," snickers Alice. "I won'eh what t'at's like?" "Lotta funny stuff goes on innat Greenwich Village," shrugs Sally. "Me'n Joe wen' up t'eh once t'see what it was awla 'bout. Y'know, I read inna magazine once't t'eh was a lotta whatchacawl ya advance' t'inkehs livin' up t'eh, lottaya p'gressive p'litical t'inkehs, y'know? Y'know how I was awrganizin f't CIO at Woolwoit's t'en, an' I t'ought, y'know, maybe afteh we got done dancin' I could pick up some pointehs." "Didja?" queries Alice. "Not really," frowns Sally. "T'ey mighta been some advance' t'inkehs t'eh, but t'ey was drownt out by awla advance' drinkehs...")

("Better looking too!" SUCH CRUST!)

(Is blackmailing an essential occupation?)

(Hey Kids! Comics!)

(He really did learn a few tricks working for Gould.)

(AMERICA'S NUMBER ONE HERO DOG ALWAYS MAINTAINS AN AIR OF DIGNITY)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

You left out artichokes. He also doesn't like artichokes.

These are mostly reissues of stuff recorded in the early '30s -- and oh WHAT reissues. Grab 'em while you can!

"Until my spies return with a full dossier, that is."

Terry learned a lot of tricks working with Pat and Connie.

"Yeah, they used to call me 'Giggles,' but I made 'em stop."

"May he rest in -- um -- pieces..."

"Jerk! Just for that you get these baggy rayons!"

"Just do us all a favor and keep that pipe in your pocket."

Actually, he doesn't work at the bank at all, and the money's counterfeit. And the pelican's really a duck with a beak infection.

Um, remember what happened the last time you gave up the shop.

 

[FOXTROT LAMONT]

Today's Terrence rather confused me. I understand Grett's well, but that's about all.

 

[LizzieMaine]

Capt. Midi is the creepy French officer who's been feeding intelligence to the Japanese. The young Chinese soldier has thoughtfully picked said Captian's pocket and is presenting the results of his efforts to Terry. This is a lot like the way Connie used to pose as a servant to obtain information for Terry and Pat in the days back before the war.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("That's good bacon, it is," declares Uncle Frank. "It aaaght to be," agrees Ma. "Faar foive brown points. Eat yarr bacon, William, don't troi t'build a hoose with it." "Th' boy does loike to build," chuckles Uncle Frank. "Oi was thinkin'," suggests Ma, in a tone of studied casualness, "p'raps t'morrah we shu'd go ovarr to Bensonharrst, an' pay a visit to Sally and Joseph. Oi've not seen Leonora for days an' days." "Ye know what they said about the boy," dismisses Uncle Frank. "Oh, well, thaat's easy to solve," proposes Ma. "Ye recall I mentioned that janitarr over tharr, that man Krause, he come by here t'othar day lookin' for ye, said he had somethin' farr ye t'look at on th' farrnace tharrr.." "Oh yes," nods Uncle Frank. "He left a note in the door ovarr to the office. Oi was out in th' Flatlands just then, you know, checkin' aaahn pr'duction." "Well," suggests Ma with a blank smile, "p'raps you could drop in on Mistarr Krause, an' you could take William with ye. Krause an' the boy did seem to hit it off." "Mmmmph," replies Uncle Frank thru a mouthful of toast. "Ahhl roit," he concludes, "Oi'll do that. Ye can visit with Sally an' Joseph an' Leonora, an the boy an' me will visit Mr. Krause. What do ye say to that, son?" Without looking up from his wall of bacon, Willie nods "yeh.")

The War Shipping Administration is taking special measures to keep the American merchant fleet sailing to the fighting fronts during the Christmas and New Year's period to guard against the situation a year ago, whem seven American and 10 British ships were delayed in port within a fortnight due to crew shortages. Requests have been made to the U. S. Martime Service to release deck and engineering officers from special training courses, assuming those men volunteer for such duty. Seamen listed on the availability rosters of the martime unions are also being asked to forego holiday breaks and maintain their available status thru the holiday season to make certain that all vessels needing crews are able to obtain them. Atlantic Coast chairman Craig S. Vincent of the WSA's Recruitment and Manning Orgaization stated that "in this period of war, when the invasions of Nazi Germany from the west, south, and east have been promised, merchant seamen will not and must not fail their comrades in the armed services."

Anti-semitism and discrimination against the Negro are part of a Fascist attempt to impede the war effort by splitting the American people, declared the chairman of the Committee on Discrimination of the Brooklyn Council for Social Planning. Addressing a forum held last night at the Jewish Community House of Bensonhurst last night, chairman Bernard Reswick called the present wave of criticism of the Negro population of Bedford-Stuyvesant the latest example of that type of attack. Pointing out that 250,000 people live in that section, only 4,000 of whom are Negroes, Mr. Reswick praised the latter group's forebearance under the unjust attacks. "I must say," he declared, "I have never seen a better example of democracy at work, of true patriotism and loyalty, than the way the Negroes of that area, in cooperation with their white neighbors, Gentile and Jew, have resisted this attack and were not provoked into a riot."

Washington is speculating anew today on the question of who will command the anticipated Allied drive across the English channel after responsible sources stated that the choice has fallen upon General Eisenhower. Washington had understood for weeks that General Marshall would assume the "invasion command" this winter or early in the spring, but unofficial statements now suggest that Marshall will remain in the capital as Chief of Staff while Eisenhower assumes the London command. Marshall's present whereabouts are unknown, but he was notably not mentioned among the group of officers recently returned from the Teheran Conference with President Roosevelt.

(Ralph Trost has the most impressive moustache in Brooklyn. Ask him and he'll tell you so.)

Baseball clubs continue to firm up their plans for spring training, with the Boston Red Sox announcing yesterday that they will train again next year at Tufts College. General Manager Eddie Collins, added, though, that the Bosox will travel down to Baltimore for the last two weeks of the training season for workouts at Oriole Park, as guests of the Baltimore International League club. The Red Sox will also play a pre-season series against the Dodgers at Ebbets Field before returning to the Hub for their traditional city series against the Braves.

New Phillies general manager Herb Pennock, recently engaged by new Phils owner Robert Carpenter, announced yesterday that the Quaker City National Leaguers will train again in 1944 at Wilimington, Delaware.

(You will recall that the Eagle heartily endorsed Mr. Willkie in 1940. Clearly Mr. Schroth doesn't.)

("How about 'CHALLENGING!' 'THOUGHT PROVOKING!' 'REVOLUTIONARY!'" "Shhhh! You want the Dies Committee to hear you?")

Vaudeville star of decades past Alice Doll has died at the age of 73. Miss Doll, who was prominent forty years ago as a talented cornetist, trick banjo player, tap dancer, and Indian club-swinger, won renown as a member of the Burden, Doll and Burden team, and later, as half of Doll and Burden. That act traveled for many years on the Keith circuit, and was a favorite at leading theatres in Brooklyn and Manhattan. A Brooklyn native, Miss Doll had lived in recent years on 64th Street in Bensonhurst.

("Patsy Kelly!" erupts Alice. "I useta KNOW Patsy Kelly! Her ol' man was a cop, an' he arres---um, her ol' man was a cop, an' I run inta him a coupla times. An' ya know what else? Her right name ain' Patsy at awl. It's Sarah Bridget Veronica a' sump'n. Nice kid, she useta dance a lot. I wondeh if she'd remembeh me?" "Ya hawrd t'f'get," shrugs Sally. "Y'know what, I oughta see'f I c'n go onnat show. Hey, you an' me, we'c'd go onnat show -- I mean, I c'n play t'ukulele a lit'l bit, an' t'ey useta say I had a nice verce f'singin'. An' you -- hey, you could dance!" "Onna radio?" puzzles Sally. "Whyyy nawt?" Alice enthusues. "T'at Edgeh Boigen is onna radio, an' he's a ventriloquis'. Nobody caehs if Chawrlie McCawrt'y's lips move. You could dance an' nobody c'd tell if you was doin' it right awr nawt! Whattaya say? It'd be a laugh! An' a t'ousand bucks, say, t'at'd make a swell Chris'mas, huh?" "I dunno," demurs Sally. "I mean.." "N'en it's awl settl'd! I'll send a wieh soon's we get awf t'rain. Dooley an' Petrauskas is onna aieh! Oh wait, we betteh change t'at, Petrauskas is too lawng t'fit onna billboehd. We'll make it Dooley an' Sweeney, t'Irish Nightin'gales. Huh? How'bout it!" "I dunno..."attempts Sally. "T'is is gonna be SWELL!" enthuses Alice. "Wait'll Siddy heehs us! He don'know he's gonna marry a c'lebrity!")

(You do? First time for everything!)

(Shouldn't you be rehearsing?)

(YEAH YOU ONE EYED MEATHEAD I FEEL SWELL.)

(Odds that the barrel gets wedged in the window now running even money.)

(AMERICA'S NUMBER ONE HERO DOG ALWAYS KNOWS HOW TO WORK A CROWD)