The Era -- Day By Day

[LizzieMaine]

Annie couldn't wait to try out her new leather bag.

Orgies? Who's he think he is, Lionel Atwill?

"And I don't mess around with refrigerators. I use, you know, this gun."

Not exactly dressed for winter combat, are you?

He's been waiting all his life for this kind of power.

"Let me think -- how did Harold Teen get out of that?"

Caaaaaaareful, Mr. Gray. The ice is still a bit thin.

And so was spawned the smash catchphrase hit of 1944: "Hey, anybody here seen my pelican?"

I'm surprised it took this long.

It sure is a good thing this base has such tight security.

 

[Fading Fast]

Is it impossible for Joe to get an hour or two off for personal reasons? I know it's war work, but I doubt he's the only one who's ever needed a few hours off.

Gray can't help himself.

 

[LizzieMaine]

I get the feeling that Joe, given the present situation with essential workers being reclassified, really doesn't want to call any more attention to himself than necessary. Sally, of course, would have no problem doing it, but I think Joe is rather shy about such things, to the point of being a bit too diffident for his own good. Add to that the peer pressure in war plants against absenteeism, and you can understand why he'd want to keep a low profile.

He does seem to have a lot of confidence in planning all this in the ability of the BMT to run on time, but that's a whole nother question...

Mr. Gray, on the other hand, cannot ever let a sleeping dog lie. Of all our cartoonists, he's the one who most uses his strip to express his personal obsessions. Although I do wonder about the Jane Arden team and whips.

 

[Trenchfriend]

Yeah, the Scharnhorst. Sad story. If history would have ran different, they would have kept the radar equipment active, seeing, what's "marching on" and 2.004 Navy men would have been brought back ashore safe..

 

[FOXTROT LAMONT]

Although I do wonder about the Jane Arden team and whips.

Ms Elisabeth I do so enjoy your analysis. But this little bit threw me completely.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("It's hoi toime," huffs Ma, "thaat they waaar doin' soomthin' aboot th' yooong hoodlums around here! Did ye know, Francis, that a gang a' these joovenoile d'linquents beat oop Hops Gaffney t'otharr noit?" "Is thaat a fact?" replies Uncle Frank, hoisting a vigorous forkful of eggs. "It is," nods Ma. "A roit disgrace." "What Oi harrrd," Uncle Frank continues, "was that the Hoppar got cleaned oot in a poolroom boi a gang'a yooths. It was what ye caahl less'uva physical beat'n than a spirrtual beat'n." Ma glares back. "Of caarse," concludes Uncle Frank, "it's th' principle'a t'thing that coonts." "Nonetheless," asserts Ma, "this neighbarhood is noot what it was when Oi was bringin' oop Michael and Sally. A body's not safe, an' Oi'm thinkin' it's nooo place to raise anoothar choild. In fact, Oi've been considarrin' cloosin' oop th' store here an' moovin' to -- soomplace else." "Is thaat so?" nods Uncle Frank, with a mouthful of sausage. "See here, Nora," he interjects. "This saaahsage is more sawwdoost than meat." "That's anoothar thing," agrees Ma. "Ye caaan't troost nobody here no more. The jooveniles'll mug ye, th' bootchar an' th' grocer'll cheat ya -- Oi jus' doon't loike what this neighbarhood's becoomin'. Now you considarr -- oh -- Bensonharrrst f'rzample. Why, Sally tells me they've got foine neighbarrs, th' stores are aaahl friendly, an' ye can sit on ye stoop at noite an' not warrry some joovenile delinquent's gonna stick ye up. A mooch healthier neighbarrhood to raise up a choild in, wouldn't ye say? Don't ye think young William here desaaarves..." "I'll taalk t' Shaughnessy," proposes Uncle Frank. "What's Shaughnessy got to do with Bensonharrst?" queries Ma. "Saaahsages," corrects Uncle Frank. "Shaughnessy c'n get decent saahsages.")

The five borough presidents of New York City have declared a formal "battle of scrap paper," as they vy to boost the city's position in the nationwide wastepaper drive. Queens Borough President James A. Burke, who took the lead in assembling his colleagues in the campaign, said he has made a check of apartment houses in his borough, and has found building superintendants dutifully saving and bundling paper for collection, and he suggested that a careful search of municipal offices and archives will find tons of old records that are far more valuable as scrap than as documents. Representing the borough of "dem bums, Joseph Reich, Brooklyn borough secretary attending the meeting on behalf of Borough President John Cashmore, declared that the competition for wastepaper "will be keen." Brooklyn residents with paper to turn in should call MAin 5-0061 to arrange for collection. In Queens, residents should call CLeveland 3-0175.

(I thought that neighborhood was off limits to sailors.)

A triggerman for the Brooklyn Murder for Money syndicate, under indictment since 1940, is now under lock and key. Jack "Little Sure Shot" Drucker was seized by FBI agents in a fashionable suburb of Wilmington, Delaware, driving a shiny, costly car that was reported stolen in Manhattan on Saturday night. Drucker told his captors the woman accompanying him is his wife, and that a child found in the car is "a relative." He was arraigned in Wilmington as a fugitive from justice, and bail was set at $25,000 when he agreed to waive extradition and return voluntarily to New York for trial. Drucker earned his "Little Sure Shot" name from "Lepke" Buchhalter himself due to his reputation for "never missing" when on an assignment. He was wanted for the 1936 murder of taxicab driver Irving Ashkenas, an underworld figure who had worked as a courier for the murder mob, and was found dead along a country road in the Catskills and for the 1937 slaying of Walter Sage, whose body was fished out of Swan Lake near the town of Liberty, New York. Drucker was also wanted for questioning in connection with the death of dress manufacturer Hymie Yuron, whose body was dug up near Loch Shieldrake in 1940. "Little Sure Shot" was known to police as a close associate of the late Abe "Kid Twist' Reles, who fell to his death two years ago from a window of the Half Moon Hotel at Coney Island while in protective custody.

("Did I tell ya," grins Alice, "what Misteh G said? He says he's gonna give me'n Siddy a wedd'n presn't. He's gonna pay for us t'go spen' New Yeeh's Eve at t'Bosse't. Afteh t'wedd'n a'coese." "Lotta swanky people at t'Boss'et," notes Sally. "Ya betteh b'have y'self." "Ohhhh," dismisses Alice, "I know howta ack innem places. I gotta lotta whatchacawl social graces when I wanna. You put t'ree fawrks infronna me, I'm gonna pick t'right one t'eat me pickles wit. T'sistehs was very p'ticuleh 'bout t'at stuff. Don'choo worry none 'bout me." "T'ree days lef'," observes Sally. "You gotta getcha blood tes' t'day." "I do?" puzzles Alice. "Howcome?" "It's t'lawr," shrugs Sally. "T'ey wanna know if you got any'a -- diseases." "I had a col' las' week," shrugs Alice. "T'at ain' nut'n'ta worry'bout." "Not t'em kin'a diseases," explains Sally, her face reddening. "Um -- you know -- social d'seases. Like -- um -- Cupid's d'seases." "OHHH!" dawns Alice. "Y'mean like --" "Yeh," interrupts Sally, highly conscious of a flint-faced elderly man in a clerical collar glaring in their direction across the car. "Y'c'n prob'ly getcha test f'm t' noice at t'plant. Jus' tell'm ya need a 'Wassehman tes'." "Who's Wassehman?" questions Alice. "I guess," shrugs Sally, "heeza guy come up wit' t'test." "I useta know a guy name'a Lenny Wassehman," recalls Alice. "An' come t't'ink'v it, if t'ez one guy t'at'd know sump'n'about..." "OUEH STOP!" shouts Sally as the train squeals mercifully into Exchange Place.)

("Knowing what screw to turn" -- priceless.)

Resolve to improve your diet in 1944 by not overcooking your vegetables. Boiling them in "oceans of water that is then thrown away" is a waste of valuable vitamin resources. Eat fresh vegetables whenever possible, and consider accenting any dish you serve with crisp lettuce, turnip fingers, cauliflowerettes, and raw cabbage.

(Ah, Whitlow. Not so wasp-waisted now, are ya?)

(Dr. Brinkley, I presume?)

("Migawd, you really HAVE never done this before!")

("What do you mean there's too much whipping in this comic. That's not a whip, it's a barely a quirt!")

(I mean we wouldn't want to terrify the poor man.)

(Kitty is a shrewd judge of character.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

Who says the week after Christmas is a slow news week?

Odds that Harold Gray starts a restaurant storyline within two weeks now running even money.

As long as he stays out of the back room.

"It's interesting work, especially if you're a people person."

Movies on Paper.

There's still time, hon, to join the WACs.

"What, no beer?"

It's tough to be a senator with election year coming.

But do you have the strength to PUT IT IN THE FREEZER

Enjoy your night off, kid.

 

[LizzieMaine]

Oh, and...

SO THERE

 

[Fading Fast]

"Little Sure Shot" was known to police as a close associate of the late Abe "Kid Twist' Reles, who fell to his death two years ago from a window of the Half Moon Hotel at Coney Island while in protective custody.

"fell"

 

[LizzieMaine]

("S'awright, honey, I know it hoits," comforts Sally, holding a warm, wet washcloth to Leonora's ear. "Do'want!" sniffles Leonora. "'Fection!" "Leas' she knows what's goin' awn," notes Joe, observing the clock's hands approaching 3:30. "I wish we could get some'a t'at penicillin. I wondeh if Uncle Frank..." "I awready ast Uncle Frank t'find us some coal," sighs Sally. "Las' winteh we couldn' get erl, so we convoit t'coal, an' now we can't get coal. Gawdam wawr. Bangonnat radiateh again, willya?" "'S'no use," shrugs Joe. "If Krause had enough coal down'eah, we'd have heat. He ain' no wawrmen'n we awr." "Pern'nat heateh oveh closeh t'en," directs Sally, and Joe slides the glowing electric contrivance that much closer to the bed. "An' don't..." "OW!" yelps Joe. "Trip oveh it," sighs Sally. "Whattanight," grumbles Joe, tugging on the wool mackinaw over his pajamas and sliding back into bed. "Awright honey," reassures Sally, attaching a pad of folded gauze to the side of her daughter's head with white medical tape. "T'at's gonna drain now, an' if it don't ya pa will take ya to t'docteh out to t'plant t'marreh." Lenonora sniffles, clutching at the pad, but manages a weak raspberry. "T'at's a brave goil," declares Sally. "Now you get inya bed t'eh, an' don' lay onnat side if'y'c'n help it." She steps to the bureau and pulls open a drawer, rummaging without satisfaction among her things. "Hey Joe," she sighs, shuddering in the cold as she holds up one of her husband's heavy grey union suits. "C'n I borreh..." "Yeh," sighs Joe. "Borreh me blue soige suit too, if ya want." "Nah," she shrugs, pulling on her flannel nightgown over the baggy undersuit. "We gotta save t'at f't'weddin'...")

Two British commando raids on one of Germany's island outposts off the French coast, and signs that an Allied invasion of western Europe was "relatively near" were reported over the German radio today. Simultaneously, it was revealed that American troops are rehearsing with live ammunition for that coming invasion. The exercises were reported to be causing casualties, but high officers were said to be operating under the theory of "better to lose a few men today than many tomorrow." A report from the German DNB news agency said British forces twice in the past three days attempted commando raids on Sark, one of the Channel Islands 15 miles off the west coast of the Cherbourg Peninsula, and 100 miles off the southeastern English coast. Heavy explosions were reported by the Germans on the beaches, the result of the detonation of beach mines, and it was claimed that one British soldier was found dead. It was stated that German defense forces "did not go into action" during the raids.

The 1942-43 term of the City Council came to an end yesterday with a four and a half hour session capped by a council vote to accept Councilman Walter Hart's committee report on the investigation of the LaGuardia Administration. The vote of 15 to 6 to accept that report fell along a strict party line split, with Democrats united in their endorsement of the committee's charge that the Mayor and Sanitation Commissioner William F. Carey violated the city charter, while the rest of the council, led by Fusionist Genevieve Earle of Brooklyn, declared the report "ridiculous and futile" and "full of generalities." Council President Newbold Morris at one point asked one of the council's Bronx Democrats if the committee had gone "into the affairs of your political godfather," referring to the matter of former Democratic National Committee chairman Edward Flynn and his antique Belgian courtyard. "Come on down on the floor and debate if you have a legitimate question," was the sharp response to Newbold's remark from Brooklyn Democrat Joseph Sharkey. "Don't be a smart aleck all your life!"

Occupants of two Brooklyn apaartment buildings were rousted from their beds in the bone-chilling early morning by fires. Two policemen from the Myrtle Avenue station was overcome by smoke while rescuing four persons from a burning two-story frame house at 733 Myrtle Avenue. Patrolmen Edward Hynes and James Harvison responded to the blaze in their radio car, and broke down a door to rescue Liberio Bartolomo, his wife Concetta, and their two teenage daughters Angie and Anna before collapsing on the sidewalk from smoke inhalation. They later recovered and reluctantly called in sick today. Meanwhile, considerable damage resulted from a fire at an old-law tenement at 342 Lafayette Avenue. Policemen from the Classon Avenue station rescued six families from the burning building, which was brought under control within an hour.

("Hmph," hmphs Sally. "Kids t'day. I ASK YA." "He ain' no Rudy Vallee," chuckles Alice, anticipating her friend's next remark. "Yeh," nods Sally. "No Russ Columbo, neit'eh. Awr Crosby ev'n. His verce ain' got no -- well, it ain' got no meat to it, y'know what I mean? Sings like 'ee's ten yeehs ol'." "Ain' no Bobby Breen," snickers Alice, elicitiing a genuine laugh from her companion. "Y'know who I useta like t'ough?" proposes Alice. "Gene Austin. R'membeh him? R'membeh t'at sawng he was awrways singin', t'at 'My Blue Heav'n.' I love t'at sawng. I sing it mese'f awla time. 'JUS' SIDDY AN' MEEEEEE -- AN' BABY MAKES T'REE...." Heads turn in the car, causing Alice to terminate her performance. "Ain' nut'n you need t'tell me, izzeh?" queries Sally from beneath a lifted eyebrow. "Nah," blushes Alice. "Not -- um -- yet anyways." "Ah," ahs Sally, as with a self-satisfied smile, Alice considers thoughts known only to herself.)

("Here now, Francis -- what do you say we go oot t'night!" proposes Ma. "Look hearrr, they're shoowin' some real foine pictcharrs downtoon! Look here, the Hoonchback a' Notra Dame, the REAL one, not thaat new one. Remember when we went t'see thaat with Michael an' Sally aaan' Sally starrted yellin' at that fellar was whippin' Lon Chaney, an' she got so waaarked oop she threw harr shoe at th' screen, an' th' usharr made us leave? We nevarr did get t'see how thaat coom out!" "Lon Chaney," muses Uncle Frank. "Now thaar woos an actarr, not one'a these painted playboys y'get now. Wharr's it shoo'in'?" "Uh," checks Ma, "Th' Star." "Th' STAR!" chuckles Uncle Frank. "Whoi, Oi ain' been to th' Star since I went t'see Lois DeFee..." "Who??" interrupts Ma. "Ahhh," stumbles Uncle Frank. "A dancer," he hestiates. "A -- um -- modarrrn dancarrr. A very -- um -- taaaaahl, modern dancarrrr. Oooh look, thar' shoowin' Clara Bow too. Oi aalways enjoyed harr pictures, a very noice wholesome young lady. Although -- um -- not as good an actaar aas Lon Chaney, a'caarse." "What do you say, William?" queries Ma. "Want to goo see a picture show? An' maybe we can see if Mistar Krause an' Miss Dooley would like t'join oos...." "Yeh," grins Willie. "You won't throw ye shoes, will ye?" adds Uncle Frank. "Neh," promises the boy.)

(Out of sight, out of mind.)

("KnuckleBAWL?" huffs Alice. "He's a knuckleHEAD!" "He's no Fitz," adds a scowling Sally. "Ain' nobody Fitz but Fitz himself!")

(True fact -- there's a "nutritional supplement" for men that contains a plant called 'Horny Goat Weed.'")

(THIS WON'T LAST.)

(Tubby is Jane Arden's Irwin, if you hadn't noticed.)

(Mr. Stamm never misses an issue of "Wonder Woman.")

(NOW KITTY! AMERICA'S NUMBER ONE HERO DOG IS A FREE SPEECH ABSOLUTIST.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

"Mozalewski!" greets Joe. as a large and lumbering colleague approaches. "P'trauskas," nods Mozalewski in acknowledgement. "Ya back," continues Joe. "I hoid.." "Yeh," replies Mozalewski. "Too bad about..." offers Joe. "Eh," shrugs Mozalewski, wiping his hands with a shop rag as he settles himself before his bench. "Guess you'll be nex', huh?" he adds. "I seen'at goil t'ey was trainin' inna poissonell office when I come in." "Yeh," sighs Joe, glancing down at Mozalewski's scuffed work boots. "Whatta YOU lookin' at?" demands Mozalewski. "Huh?" huhs Joe. "Um, nut'n."

All right, wise guy, give us the rest of it.

The sun will come out tomorrow.

Or you could try the WAVES.

I remember little Skeez, building forts with his friends in the backyard...

And you made it all the way up to second assistant clerk!

I mean it's not like he's never....

Stop showing off, Moon, you know you'll never make that shot.

"Wait, that's it? HMPH NO SENSE OF STYLE."

CHECK THAT WASTEBASKET

 

[Fading Fast]

It's good to see William, even if only marginally, become more communicative.

I don't doubt it happened, but it's funny to see a world where the classic 1939 "The Hunchback of Notre Dame" with the great Charles Laughton is dismissed as "thaat new one."

 

[FOXTROT LAMONT]

Laughton is without doubt the definitive Quasimodo but my bella signorina of dreams, Gina Lollabrigida
clearly defines gypsy Esmerelda in the later 1960 production. What a woman. Grace, beauty, elegance.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Gawdawmighty," murmurs Sally, folding the paper on her lap. She takes off her glasses and rubs her eyes, as if to erase the image of what she's just read. She puts her spectacles back on, and glances at her seatmate, whose face bears an expression of utter contentment. "If you ain' read t'papeh t'night," Sally recommends, "don't." "Huh?" huhs Alice. "Oh, no, none f'me, t'anks." "Got a lawt onya min'," Sally continues, forcing a chuckle in an effort to dismiss the news of the day. "I betcha do. T'marra's t'big night." "Is it?" smiles Alice. "Yeh, I guess ya right at t'at. How time flies." "You ain' foolin' me, toots," snickers Sally. "Ya a noivous wreck." "Me?" replies Alice. "Not inna leas'. Ev'rytin'g's jake wit' me. Ev'ryt'ing's whatchacawl smoot' sailin' an' no U-Boats in sight. I ain' noivous, not one bit." "T'en howcum," observes Sally, "you went t'ru t'whole day weahrin one black shoe an' one brown shoe?" "Oh," ohs Alice, glancing at her feet. "Well, c'mon, Sal, at'sa style now, at'sa style witcha Hollywood stawrs an' awlat. Ain'choo read 'bout t'at in ya 'Madam Oisle' book t'eh? Hedy Lamawrr, Dorot'y Lamour, Patsy Kelly -- t'eh awl doin' it. Hmph! An' heeh you come innem cawrny saddle shoes. You gotta get hep t't'times, kiddo." "T'em ain' even YAWR shoes," notes Sally. "T'em shoes b'long t' KRAUSE! Look at'm, ya gonna get bunions goin' aroun' in shoes t'at smawl." "Oh," shrugs Alice. "Hones' mistake. We was up late las' night." "Oh," ohs Sally with a knowing grin. "We was TAWKIN'!" insists Alice. "We got a lawt t'tawk about. An' you know Siddy, awrways got sump'n t' say." "Yeh," nods Sally.)

The New York City Patrol Corps, alarmingly short in numbers, today turned again to the draft boards for lists of men deferred from military service. Such men can expect to receive a politely-worded letter from Patrol Corps commander Maj. Gen. Robert M. Danford inviting them to join the organization created by Mayor LaGuardia in an effort to bolster the depleted police department. The letter avoids the strong language of an earlier recrutiment letter mailed out by the Mayor's office, and merely "invites and urges" men to sign up for Patrol Corps service. About a thousand men are presently serving in the Patrol Corps in Brooklyn, the largest delegation of any borough, but officials say twice that many men are needed, along with at least 300 women. There are presently 172 Brooklyn women serving in the Corps.

("Jaaarsey City," snickers Ma. "Th' varrry idearr!! Which remoinds me, Francis -- did ye evarr collect f'rm this Joostice Millar?" "Ohhhhh," replies Uncle Frank, between sips of his two-cents-plain, "Oi think we're squarr with Joostice Millar. He's a very meticulous gentlemaan when it cooms t'payin' his bills. Joost needs a bit of a remindarr now an' again." "It's goood that he supparts loocal business," chuckles Ma. "Jaaarsey City! Hmph!")

Canned snap beans will be point-free as of next month, as will most types of frozen vegetables except for corn, lima beans, and peas. The January chart for point-rationing released by the Office of Price Administration also reduces point requirements for canned peas and tomatoes. Point values of jams, preserves, and non-citrus marmalades were also increased, but frozen fruit, except for blueberries and huckleberries, and frozen fruit juices, will be point-free effective Sunday.

A mistrial was declared yesterday in the case of a Sheepshead Bay saloon charged with violating state alcohol laws by serving rum to a sixteen-year-old girl. The cabaret license of Axel's, 2115 Emmons Avenue, remains suspended pending a new trial in the case. The mistrial was declared by Judge Bernard A. Konicke after testimony from the girl, Frieda Wagner of Southampton, who admitted that she was served two glasses of rum before a plainclothes detective arrested her as a material witness, on the grounds that neither of the girl's parents were available to attest to the validity of her birth certificate after the defense counsel in the case refused to concede the document's accuracy. Judge Konicke had sharp words for the girl, declaring that if he were her father he'd "paddle your stern so hard you'd eat your meals from the mantelpiece for a few days."

Former State Senator Joseph A. Eqsuirol, who represented Brooklyn's 8th Senatorial District from 1933 to 1942 was barred for five years from the practice of law by order of the Appellate Divsion in a ruling yesterday bringing to a close an investigation begun by the Amen Office nearly two years ago and carried on by a Kings County Grand Jury. Esquirol was accused of concealing his dealings with pinball racketeers, of profiting thru the appointment of clerks in the legislature who kicked back portions of their wages, and of using money belonging to law clients to pay his personal expenses. Esquirol had long been a factor in Tammany politics in the Flatbush district, and has been a member of the bar since 1921.

("We'ehr'awl set f't'marreh night t'en?" confirms Joe, handing Miss Kaplan a small envelope. "Y'don'hafta take it out an' look at it, it's real aw'right. One numbeh 18 stamp. Jus' like I prawmised." "Yeh," nods Miss Kaplan, sliding the envelope into her overall pocket. "We gotta make sueh ev'ryt'ing runs awn time," continues Joe. "T'ese friens'a mine, t'ey got resehvations at t' Bosse't afteh t'wedd'n." "T' Bosse't," winks Miss Kaplan. "Don'choo know some fancy people." "Yeh," nods Joe. "Real fancy." "Hey, you -- Petrauskas!" interrupts the sharp voice of the foreman. "T'ey wanna see ya inna poissonell awfice. G'wan -- onna double." "Oh," gulps Joe, feeling his world tighten. "Yesseh." "Kaplan!" commands the foreman. "You take 'is machine." "Yesseh," Miss Kaplan nods, turning to watch Joe head up the stairs to the catwalk. He steps briskly, not looking back.)

The Eagle Editorialist criticizes the annual list of Best Dressed Women just released by a conference of fashion editors. The Duchess of Windsor and Rep. Claire Boothe Luce headed the list, but the EE thinks, if it's even necessary to produce such a list at all during wartime, that perhaps a WAC or a WAVE or a SPAR might all have been better choices. But the EE goes on to say that he saw the best-dressed woman he's ever seen on the BMT the other day. "She wasn't as beautiful as Mrs. Luce," he says, "and her clothes didn't come from 5th Avenue. In fact, her serviceable black coat had seen several years of wear since it came out of a bargain basement. But on her coat collar was what made her the best-dressed woman in town for our money. She was wearing five small service stars."

(KIDS TODAY)

The number of marriage licenses issued in Brooklyn during 1943 will total about 5000 less than were issued in 1942. It is anticipated, however, that the number will take a rebound during the Leap Year of 1944.

("HMPH!" hmphs Sally. "T'at Frey's t'one spiked Petey t'at time. HE'LL GET HIS!")

(HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!)

(You never see Jimmy Gleason playing a heel, and it's a pity because he really gives it everything he's got.)

(G'wan, Jane, give her your autograph.)

("But my shift doesn't end for half an hour and I don't want to get in trouble with the WLB!")

("Ew, go away mutt, you stink!")

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

"It's about time somebody cracked down on these cartoonists!" -- H. Gray.

Twenty cups of coffee a day? "Kwake" indeed.

"Sure I'm gonna take my time! It's not like they're waiting to welcome me back home!"

"Home Front problems."

Wars are won by the working class.

Seriously, kid, try the SPARS.

Oh whine whine whine.

Mr. Willard does love his cheesecake.

YOU KNOW SOME PEOPLE HAVE TO DO THEIR OWN WASHING ALL THE TIME

Well now.

 

[FOXTROT LAMONT]

Mona Leese. She needs a bodyguard.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Oi was surprised to get an invitaation," declares Ma, carefully seated between Leonora and William on the purple horsehair couch in the Ginsburg parlor. "Mistarr Krause thought young William moit enjoy comin' ovarr. He seems to think a great deal of the boy, aaand, of caaarse, Oi've known Alice for -- ah -- many yaaars." "Y'see t'at guy?" indicates Sally, pointing to a soberly-dressed gentleman with steel-framed glasses. "T'at's Magistrate Solomon, you know, t'at's awrways inna papeh. He's a freind'a one'a t'Ginsboig's boys -- t'one t'at's a captain out'ta Camp Upton." "Ah," nods Ma, carefully adjusting the veil dangling from her hat. "Oi b'live I've met Mr. Solomon, very pleasant gentaaalman." "He's A L P, y'know," notes Sally. "I voted f'r'im ev'yt'ing he's eveh run fawr." "Are you sure," interrupts Mr. Ginsburg, glancing nervously at his watch, "that Yussel..." He in turn, is interrupted by a sharp rap at the door, and rushes over to admit Joe, red-faced and breathing heavily as he tugs his necktie into position. "Sawry I'm late..." he pants. "You know t'BMT..." "Never mind, never mind," bustles Mr. Ginsburg. "You take your place, and here is the ring, don't lose the ring. Just stand over there, and I'll go to the kitchen. We got to hurry, let's hurry. All right, Esther, the music, start the music." Receiving her cue, Mrs. Ginsburg starts the big cabinet Victrola, and a thirty-year-old recording of Mendelssohn's Wedding March rasps out. All eyes turn to the kitchen door, as Alice, stately and blushing in her gown, and clutching nervously at Mr. Ginsburg's arm, steps delicately into the parlor. Krause, stiff in a brand new suit and beads of sweat glistening atop his scalp, shifts anxiously from foot to foot as she assumes her position. The Magistrate eyes the couple as Mr. Ginsburg nods that all is ready. "We are gathered here," pronounces the Magistrate, "to celebrate the marriage of -- uh -- Sidney and Alice. If there is anyone now present who knows of any reason why these two may not be legally wed, let him speak now." There is a rapid shifting of eyes about the room, but the only reply is an indefinite chirp from Zippy the Parakeet. "Sidney," resumes the Magistrate, "do you solemnly promise to love, honor, and cherish Alice for so long as you both may live?" "Yeh," mumbles Krause before correcting himself. "Uh," he stumbles. "I do." "Do you, Alice," the Magistrate continues, "solemnly promise to love, honor, and cherish Sidney for so long as you both may live. "I do," replies Alice with a jittery nod. "As a symbol of your promise, Sidney, please place the ring on Alice's finger." Joe hands Krause the ring, and, with a bit of English to slide it over Alice's pudgy knuckle, it is so placed. "Inasmuch as you have both consented," smiles the Magistrate, "by the power vested in my by the state of New York, I pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss." They do so -- shyly at first, quickly progressing to less so, as the assembled group applauds, Joe points to his watch and makes for the door, and Zippy the Parakeet chirps a final benediction: "Yeh!")

The virtual destruction of nine of Germany's 21 major industrial cities, the increasing role of the British Navy in the Pacific, and Allies ship-building were listed today as three of the major war developments of the year end by British naval and air authorities. The nine German cities, each with a population of over 250,000, were so heavily devastated "that for the time being they probably will consume more than they produce." Five other smaller cities, with total populations of more than 200,000 were reported equally damaged.

Railway union fears of a pay freeze for the duration threatened today to delay settlement of the railroad wage dispute and the return of the rail companies to private management. Leaders of the 18 railway unions expressed some concern over President Roosevelt's arbitration award to two other brotherhoods which they interpret as freezing wage levels for the duration, regardless of any changes that might be made in the wage stabilization program. Officials of the 15 non-operating unions whihc have accepted Presidential arbitration but have not agreed with management on the issues to be settled, awaited White House clarification of their case and of the reported wage freeze. There were some reports that the President has written the heads of those unions demanding that they decide today whether to give him a free hand to act in the dispute, or reject his arbitration immediately.

("The Smiling Irishman," aka Walter Wellman, the high-pressure proprietor of a Los Angeles used car lot, became a national byword thanks to endless jokes by radio comedians. No doubt this story will provide plenty of new material.)

A dozen local boys received genuine Brooklyn Dodger caps as door prizes at the annual Christmas party of the Big Brothers of Brooklyn, held yesterday at the St. George Hotel under the auspices of the Junior Chamber of Commerce. Dodger president Branch Rickey presented the prized headgear to the lucky winners among a crowd of a hundred boys who had attended Big Brother Summer Camp. In his remarks to the boys, Mr. Rickey promised an expansion during 1944 of the Dodger Knothole Club to make free tickets available to members for a total of forty games at Ebbets Field, to the tune of up to 4200 passes per day. Also addressing the youths were Dodger broadcaster Red Barber, coach Chuck Dressen, and John Fitzgerald of the U. S. Treasury Department.

("Took you long enough!" -- Butch)

The Eagle Editorialist commends Police Commissioner Lewis J. Valentine for taking extra precautions tonight to deal with the anticipated New Year's Eve crowds in Times Square. The city, the EE asserts, presently has more visitors than it has ever had before, and even thought the risk of an air raid is minimal, many of the visitors are "less hardened to crowds than New Yorkers, and so possibly less docile about stepping this way or that at a policeman's behest." In any event, the EE concludes, "there is no record of trouble being caused by too much protection."

(DONT YOU KNOW THERES A WAR ON?)

Pioneer motion picture actor Hobart Bosworth has died in Hollywood at the age of 76. His career as an actor dated back to 1885, and he has been identified with motion pictures as an actor, director, scenario writer, and producer since 1909, and he was known for his work with such prominent personalities as D. W. Griffith, John Barrymore, and John Gilbert. He made his final film appearance last year in the Western melodrama "Sin Town."

Housewives are urged by the Conservation Branch of the War Production Board to carry their own shopping bags or baskets while visiting the grocer, in an effort to save paper. Paper bags and wrapping paper should be requested only when absolutely necessary to protect the purchased goods.

(If there's any community with a legitimate historical claim to being the "capital of Baseball," it is, in fact, Brooklyn -- it was a hotbed of the game in the years surrounding the Civil War, and most of what we know as "baseball" evolved there. MOVE THE HALL OF FAME TO FLATBUSH.)

A letter just received at the Eagle sports desk from Dodger Dixie Walker indicates that the People's Cherce is enjoying his USO jaunt to Alaska, where he is accompanied by Danny Litwhiler and Stan Musial of the Cardinals, Hank Borowy of the Yankees, and Pirate manager Frankie Frisch. "We even have our own icebox!" declares Mr. Walker.

(Now that's a full-service zoo.)

("Cheap" hoofer? Well, maybe before she joined the NVA...)

(Angel Varden, is this you?)

(YEEEEE HAW!)

("Poor kid, six shots with a great big needle right in the stomach. Oh well, that's his tough luck..")

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

Magistrate Solomon has had a very long and distressing day.

Remember like during Prohibition? Use a suitcase!

"Somebody Talked."

"Is that a gun in your pocket, or are you just glad to see me?"

The Red Cross is still taking overseas volunteers.

"So -- um -- all I have are brown points..."

Don't work too hard, son.

The night before the morning after.

More blunt-force trauma? No wonder he's 4-F.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And finally...

Oh don't be ridiculous.

 

[Fading Fast]

"...and, with a bit of English to slide it over Alice's pudgy knuckle..."


Midi, dammit.