The Era -- Day By Day

[LizzieMaine]

Yep -- made in a central commissary and kept warm in a steam table until it's put in a bowl and slipped into the little compartment by kitchen workers in the back.

 

[Fading Fast]

"Gray tries this every time my contract is up for renewal. He'll prance a bunch of young candidates in and out of his office knowing full well he'll resign me and at my price. There's an art to finding that ice house and leading Annie to it convincingly and Gray knows few others can do it. Plus, somehow, the mailroom mixed up my fan mail with Gray's yesterday and a large bag was dropped on his desk."*

*Good thing Gray didn't dig to deep to see all the empty pieces of paper below the top layer of fan letters to Sandy. You don't have a long career in this business without knowing a few tricks.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("No papeh t'night?" observes Sally, glancing at her seatmate, who is absorbed in a magazine. "Neh," shurgs Alice. "I got no time f't'at now. I'm a married woman now, an' I can't be wastin' me time on Scawrlet O'Neil. T'is heeh is t'kin'a stuff I need." "Huh," huhs Sally, peeking at the cover. "T' Ladies Home Joinal." "Yeh," nods Alice. "I neveh been too good at non'a t'at lady stuff, y'know, so I figyeh I c'n, y'know, pick up some pointehs. T'ezza lotta good stuff in heeh. Didja know Eleaneh Roosevelt's gotta colyum in heeh? People write in an she ansehs questions. Lissen heeh -- "My husban' has jernt a modehn re-ligi-ous ordeh an' won't have nut'n t'do wit' me because he says he is on a higheh spir-it-chool plane, but he won't heeh of a di-voece. What can I do?' An' ya know what Eleaneh Roosevelt says? She says 'Get a di-voece yaself!' Hah! Don'nat beat awl? Eleaneh Roosevelt says t'at! She's betteh'n Helen Woit'." "You ain' awready t'inkin' 'bout no d'voece," queries Sally. "Awr ya?" "Oh no," assures Alice. "Ev'ryt'ing wit' married life f'me is copacetic. If I'da known how much fun it is, I'da done it yeehs ago. I say 'le's do sump'n,' an' Siddy jus' says 'yeh.' It's great!" "Love's young dream," sighs Sally. "An'nez a'noteh t'ing in heeh t'at's innnehrestin',"continues Alice. "Look heeh -- t'is awrticle. 'Woikin' Wives Make T' Bes' Wives, by Leslie H. Hohman, Emm Dee.' I been readin'nis. It's tawkin' 'bout how it's a good t'ing in a marriage when bot' pawrties is woikin' an' havin' outside in'rests, steada t' wife jus' doin' housewoik an' bein' mis'rable an' complainin' awlatime 'bout how much she hates it. An' says heeh afteh t'wawr, a lotta t'ese women t'at's woikin' in fact'ries an' awlat oughta keep it right up. T'is docteh says it makes ya a moeh innehrestin' poisson if ya got moeh t'tawk about t'en cookin' an' cleanin' an' awlat. I mean, like wit' you f'zample -- awrways goin' 'roun wit' petitions an' awlat, stirrin' t'ings up. Makes ya innehrestin'." "I'm gladja t'ink so," shrugs Sally. "I've awrways wan'ed t'be innehrestin'," sighs Alice. "You t'ink I'm innehrestin'?" "I guess," nods Sally. "Oh oh, what's t'is?" continues Alice. "Huh, t'is awrticle heeh -- 'You Can't Have a Careeh an' Be A Good Wife, by A Suc-cess-ful Careeh Wife.' I don' like t'sounda t'at. Look heeh, she don' even sign 'eh name.'" "Don' b'leeve ev'ryt'ing ya read in magazines," sighs Sally, leaning back with her eyes closed. "An'nen 'nis one, 'Bein' Pretty Is Not Enough," reads Alice, "It's about t'at movie acktress Jennifeh Jones, says heeh bein' awl glamehrous ain' awl it's cracked upta be. Sez heeh she wawks t'ree miles a day t'keep heh figyeh trim an' she drinks a quawrta milk a day, an' f'breakfas' she has a glass'a orange juice wit' a rawr egg yolk in it.' Hmph. T'at'seh problem right t'eh, she wouldn' need to drink no hangoveh cuehs if she didn' go out drinkin'. I loint t'at lesson yeehs ago." "Good f'you," mumbles Sally, in a futile effort to sleep. "Sez heeh she's innis new movie t'at's comin' out, t' Song'a Boinadette," Alice continues. "I'm gonna go see t'at, I love a good musical." "Yeh," sighs Sally, as the train rumbles on toward home...)

A number of large coal dealers in the city today questioned the action of the Solid Fuels Administration in building up a reserve emergency supply of nearly 8000 tons while hundreds of homes remain heatless and illnesses are being aggravated by the fuel shortage, still described as acute. According to an announcement from the regional SFA office in Manhattan, half the reserve supply, which cannot be touched by dealers except in the case of a grave emergency, is expected to be on hand by tonight, while the remaining half is due by the end of the week. Dealers, meanwhile, are doling out meager supplies from their day-to-day shipments, in many cases being only able to fill emergency orders certified as distress cases by the Health Department. A total of 1704 complaints of no heat were reported around the city as of 4 PM yesterday. A total of 303 of these reported having no coal, and emergency shipments were approved by the Health Department for 283 of those.

Income tax forms will be mailed out to taxpayers in the Brooklyn-Long Island district by the Internal Revenue Service on Friday. The forms are due on March 15th, but taxpayers who already know how much they earned in 1943 are urged to call immediately at the main office of the Internal Revenue Collector between 8:45 AM and 5 PM for assistance in completing the forms.

("A gentler time.")

The case of a former draft board official charged with accepting a $65 bribe and soliciting insurance business from a 24-year-old registrant was expected to be submitted to a Federal jury today. William D. Katz, formerly of Local Board No. 140, Kings Highway, is accused of selling his influence to extend the exemption of 24-year-old John Mango, but testifying in his own behalf Katz told the jury yesterday that he was the victim of a "frame-up," claiming that Mango's brother told him that his accuser had "brought him into this case to save himself." John Mango himself faces charges of stealing papers from the draft board office.

An author and lecturer from India charged last night that the Churchill Government is orchestrating a severe famine in the Bengal provice "to teach the Nationalists a lesson." Speaking in Town Hall, Manhattan, Indian authority Krishnalal Shridharani noted that this impression is spreading "rightly or wrongly" among the Indian people as the present famine in Bengal, and an accompanying epidemic of disease, reaches umprecedented proportions. The author further charged that the present crisis is not only harming the people of Bengal but also puts at risk Indian, British, and American troops now massing there for the invasion of Burma.

The Eagle Editorialist commends the Army's efforts to teach the considerable number of recruits who, "despite our much vaunted educational system," have been found to be unable to read or write. "An illiterate soldier may have been all right in the War of 1812, but he's almost useless today."

("Whattaloada bunk," sneers Miss Kaplan. "I ain' give up none'a t'em t'ings, an' I'm makin' out awright." "Izzat so," sighs Joe. "Hmph," she hmphs. "Jus' cause YAWR married t'some borin' lit'l pill, don' mean nobody else can't have no fun. Hey, didja know Mojalewski really DOES have six toes on each foot? I SEEN'm." "Swell," sighs Joe.)

The Liberty ship S. S. Carole Lombard will be launched in California on January 18th. The vessel named in honor of the film actress who lost her life in an airplane crash during a bond-selling tour in 1942 will be christened by Miss Lombard's colleague Irene Dunne, and officials at the California Shipbuilding Corporation were reported to be trying to arrange for the late star's widower, Capt. Clark Gable, to be present for the ceremonies.

(Of all the many accomplishments of his long life, The Ol' Redhead will be proudest of his wartime Red Cross work in Brooklyn. Keep 'em flying, Walter!)

(Parrott -- going to work for Rickey??? "You'll Be SORRRREEEEE!" -- J. McDonald.)

(There comes a time when we must all fulfill our destiny.)

("A Friend?" WOW THAT'S ORIGINAL)

(PECK HIS HEAD OFF)

("Someday they'll make a movie about me, Margie! Someday!!")

(Meet the Neville Chamberlain of dogs.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

Jeezuz.

"Thaat, me lad, is an accordion!" declares Ma, pointing to a musty black case she has carried up from the basement and placed on the fountain counter for examination by young Willie. "It b'longed t'me boy Michael. A man owed ye Uncle Frank a little money, an' we took it in settlement. Oh, the sounds it used to make, Michael larrnd t'play ever so foine." Willie scowls as Ma unlatches the case, and withdraws the gaudy instrument. Strapping it around her shoulders, she expands and compresses the instrument to produce a remarkable sound. "How'd ye loike t'laarn t'play, William?" she inquires. "We could arrange farr lessons. Oi think the teacher still owes a smahhl debt." "Neh," frowns Willie, returning to the Tinker Toy tower he has erected on his corner of the counter. "It's a pity," sighs Ma, returning the instrument to its case. "Paaarhaps Leonora would loike to larrn it." She pictures her daughter's reaction to such a proposal. "Neh," she shrugs.

"A FINE killer always keeps his mind on his work!"

"Junior Commando Flashlight." WHAT AN OPPORTUNITY FOR LICENSED MERCH!

Nice knowin' ya, toots.

"Sorry boys, don'cha see the sticker on the windshield? NO RIDERS."

So Pop and Shadow's mother never did go thru with it. WONDER WHY?

If this turns into a hard-hitting expose of the Washington call-girl racket, I'll be genuinely impressed.

Don't your feet hurt in those shoes, Ma? At least get a rubber floor mat.

Yeah, but she GOT what she wanted.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And also...

"He wears bow ties. So does Rickey." MEEEEEEEYOW.

 

[FOXTROT LAMONT]

Taffy's stitch-straight barb was a spot on lascivious laconic needle jab if ever.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Whassatcha readin'?" inquires Miss Kaplan, discovering Joe at the lunch table, hunched over a small paperbound booklet. "Sump'n my frien' Krause gimme," replies Joe. "He was inna las' wawr, 'sa booklet put out by t' 'Merican Legion." He shows Miss Kaplan the cover. "Fawl In!" she reads. "Yeh," sighs Joe. "I got me physical t'marra y'know. I'll hafta absentee f't'at. T'is book, it's gawt awllis stuff in heeh 'bout what t'spect when ya go inna soivice. Krause, he was inna Navy, but he says it's awl about'a same." "Lemme see," requests Miss Kaplan, taking the pamphlet out of Joe's hand. "What You Awr Defendin'," she reads from the table of contents. "What You Can Expec'. Morale. Trainin'. Why You Should Make A Will.' Hey, you done 'at yet? Wrotecha will?" "I'm t'oity yeehs ol'," shrugs Joe. "Who t'inks'a writin' a will when'neh t'oity yeehs ol? My ol' man was t'oity yees ol' when he died -- he neveh had no will. He neveh had nut'n wheh he'd need a will. 'Cept f'us kids, I guess." "You betteh get busy," admonishes Miss Kaplan. "I knew t'is one guy got drafted, an'nee got kilt in Tuniseh. He didn' have no will, an'nee had two ex-wives. Awrful mess." "I ain' got no ex-wives," growls Joe, snatching back the booklet. "Ya got one wife t'ough, an' ya got a kid, right?" notes Miss Kaplan. "You betteh see a lawryeh. You know any lawryehs. I know a couple, ya want t'eh numbehs?" "I don' need no lawryehs," Joe insists. "An' if I do, t'ez a guy lives in oueh buildin' downstaiehs, he's got a son'nat's a lawyeh, inna Awrmy, out t' Camp Upton, an'nee says if I need lawyeh stuff I oughta see him. So I don' need no numbehs." "Coue'se," shrugs Miss Kaplan, "It awl depen's if ya pass t'physical. I mean, you wit' one leg shawerteh'nna utteh." "What?" sputters Joe. "I ain' got one leg shawrteh'nna utteh. Whatchatawkin' bout?" "Y'do too," insists Miss Kaplan. "Obvious as hell t'look atcha. Hey!" she shouts across the cafeteria. "Mozelewski! C'meeeh." "Yeh?" greets that coworker upon his arrival.."Lookit Joe heeh," commands Miss Kaplan. "C'mon, stand up, willya? T'eh. Now look att'im. Ain'ee got one leg shawrteh'nna utteh one?" Mozelewski scans Joe up and down, turns him sideways for additional examination, and then back again. "Yeh," he nods. "One leg shawrteh'nna utteh one. Ain'nat sump'n. I neveh noticed t'at b'foeh." "T'eh," declares Miss Kaplan. "Y'see? An' if we c'n see it, t'em Awrmy doctehs is gonna see it." "Well what'sa diff'ence?" protests Joe. "I c'n still wawk, can't I? I c'n still mawrch." "Yeh," acknowledges Miss Kaplan, "but what if t'ey loadja up wit' a pack? You slantin' t'one side like t'at, stuff's gonna slide right off." "Really?" ponders Joe. "You pern'nat out t't'em doctehs," assures Miss Kaplan. "T'ell stamp ya 4-F an' sen'ya right home. "I neveh noticed t'at," marvels Mozalewski. "Huh," huhs Joe.)

Governor Thomas E. Dewey's omission from his New Year's address to the Legislature of any mention of a possible run for the Republican presidential nomination in 1944 has only served to boost the growing "Draft Dewey" movement within the GOP ranks. During his address to the Legilslature the Governor reviewed the accomplishments of his administration's first year, and made projections for the year ahead -- and said nothing to contradict his past statements that he does not plan to run for the Presidency. Several of Dewey's political rivals, who slipped quietly into Albany yesterday without fanfare to observe his speech, were quick to reach a common understanding concerning the tone of his remarks, which, they believe, will give further energy to Dewey supporters within the party. The Governor pointed to such accomplishments as "the lift" he has given to business and industrial enterprise in the state, his demand for quick aid to discharged veterans, and his proposals to reduce income tax obligations by use of the state's revenue surplus.

Meanwhile, Mayor LaGuardia, in his annual message to the City Council, called on the new Legislature to take actiom now to reduce the property tax burden in New York City by authorizing the city to raise up to $30,000,000 in operating revenue from sources other than that tax. The Mayor gave no further details of his tax program in the message, other than to stress that the present municipal tax program will be insufficient to meet the needs of the 1944 budget.

In Salt Lake City, Utah, Army intelligence officials warned the thief who stole several vials of radium from a storage room at the Hill Field air base that the substance could kill him. The radioactive substance is used at the base in a banana-oil solution to paint luminous numbers on the instrument dials of airplanes. Radium poisoning begins with a feeling of fatigue, followed by the appearance of a skin rash resembling sunburn. Rapid disintegration of the bones of the body follows. Thirteen vials of the substance were stolen from the base last Thursday, and two of the empty containers were later found hidden in a false ceiling in the radium room. Officials say there can be no doubt that the thief has exposed himself to the deadly rays emitted by the substance.

(Hear that, parents? If your kid is a bigot, look in the mirror.)

("Hmph," huffs Alice. "Mame G's gotta rubbeh plant inna pawrleh t'eh, butcha know what?" "What?" sighs Sally. "I don' t'ink it's real rubbeh," whispers Alice. "I tipped it oveh oncet -- an' it jus' laid t'eh. Didn' bounce a' nut'n." "I c'n neveh tell," groans Sally, "when ya jokin'." "Huh?" huhs Alice. "Hey, I wondeh if t'at plant is, you know, reclaimed rubbeh.")

The sweeping arrival of the Red Army in Poland is cause for celebration, declares the Eagle Editorialist, symbolizing as it does the rapid disintegration of the German Army. "Someday," the EE acknowledges, "the reestablishment of Poland, so often dismembered over the course of her tragic history, as a free nation, will bring a supreme challenge to the wisdom, the justice, and the realism of the men who are entrusted with the settlement of the terms of the peace which is hoped will prove enduring." Until then, though, "the world will look upon the sweep of Russia's armies into Poland as a great military triumph."

(Don't get too impatient, kid.)

Swoon crooner Frank Sinatra has been appointed chairman of the American Youth Division of the 1944 March of Dimes Campaign of the National Foundation for Infantile Paralysis. In that position, Sinatra will become the only person other than President Roosevelt himself to make a national appeal for the campaign.

(That spring training doesn't begin until the middle of March is one of the unsung burdens of the war.)

Former Dodger secretary John McDonald, dispossessed this week from his job as general manager of the Montreal Royals, top Brooklyn farm club, declared yesterday that he knew his number was up when Royals president Hector Racine replaced manager Fresco Thompson with Bruno Betzel -- without so much as telling him first.

(Doesn't that HURT?)

(Really? YOU BARELY KNOW THE KID. I reiterate -- the ***KID***.)

("Oh, and let's stop and get something to eat, I'm starving." "What? We've got chicken!")

(KIDS TODAY.)

(This is exactly what happened to me when I got run over by a toboggan, but no Number One Hero Dog came to my rescue. I did, however, get investigated by a squirrel.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

Gawdawmighty.

Our artist here is Russell Patterson, one of the best-known "flapper cartoonists" of the Twenties, whose work was all over the leading humor magazines of the day. He seems here, however, to be trying for more of a Caniffian style. One must keep up with the times.

Just how many big shot gunmen have you dealt with? Do you subscribe to their trade magazine?

Did you ever pay him for the last job he did?

"Sorry, bud -- just Wallet. The orders came straight from --uh -- Lt. Col. Wilmer Bobble."

Pop keeps his slot machines right over the bathroom sink.

"Would You Rather Be A Colonel With An Eagle On Your Shoulder Than A Private With A Chicken On Your Knee?"

OH I THOUGHT IT WAS SUPPER, BUT IF YOU'RE GONNA BE LIKE THAT....

The Postmaster General will hear of this!

"What, me worry?"

 

[LizzieMaine]

Oh, and...

"WHAT NONSENSE!" roars the voice on the other end of the phone. "I NEVER BROKE ANY FENCES, THAT WAS DUROCHER, HE WAS ALWAYS THROWING ME THRU THEM." "Yes, sir," sighs Mr. McDonald., his head sunken deep into the pillow. "AND WHAT'S THIS ABOUT HAROLD RABBIT WORKING FOR RICKEY?" "Parrott, sir," corrects Mr. McDonald. "NONSENSE, BOY, I DON'T NEED A PARROT. I WOULDN'T MIND A PELICAN, I HEAR PELICANS ARE FUN. AND WHAT HAPPENED TO MY MOOSEHEAD? TELL RICKEY HE'S FIRED!" "Yes sir," moans Mr. McDonald, wondering if this really is all there is to life...

 

[FOXTROT LAMONT]

Luck with the blizzard this weekend everyone in New England! Stay warm.

 

[LizzieMaine]

(Quarter past nine in the morning finds Joe, after leaving Leonora with the Ginsburgs downstairs, making his way down a fifth-floor corridor within the vast Gothic bulk of the Cadman Plaza Post Office Building. Grimly, he pauses before a door marked 536, takes a deep breath, and steps inside. Several other men crowd the anteroom of the dingy little office, and a stocky, balding corporal catches Joe's eye and with a jerk of his thumb motions him to a desk in the corner of the room, staffed by an indifferent WAC. "Name?" she inquires, reaching for a blank form without looking up. "Joe -- um -- Joseph Petrauskas. T'at's wit' a P-E-T-R-A-U-S-K-A-S." "Date and place of birth?" continues the WAC. "June 6, 1913," replies Joe. "In Williamsboig, um, t'at's in Brooklyn." The WAC looks up just long enough to shoot Joe a 'no jokes' expression. "Address?" "1720 63rd Street, Bensonhoist -- um -- t'at's also in -- um -- nevehmin'." "Occupation?" "Uh, Machinis', Sperry Gy'rascope, Bush Toimenal in -- um --" "Notice of Classification?" Joe blinks blankly at the WAC. "Your draft card," she translates. Joe fumbles with his wallet, extracts the card, and hands it to the WAC, who glances at it, makes a notation on the form, and hands it back. "Take a seat," she directs. "You'll be called." "Yeh," nods Joe, looking for a peg to hang his cap. Finding none, he fumbles with the cap before stuffing it into his jacket pocket, and selects a chair against the wall, next to a lean, pimply-faced adolescent. There are no magazines to read, and realizing he left his newspaper on the subway, Joe slaps his thighs and looks around the room at the sullen faces assembled. He glances over at the youth. "Hiya," he shrugs, and the boy returns a nodding sneer. Joe takes a deep breath. The telephone on the WAC's desk rings, she answers, and steps thru a door at the back of the waiting room. She steps back into the waiting area and beckons to a sweaty, red-faced man in a plaid woolen jacket, who exhales loudly and shuffles to his destiny. Joe again glances at the youth in the next chair, and his curiosity gets the better of him. "Say bud," he begins. "'F'ya don' mind me askin', how old awr you?" "Jus' toin't eighteen," the boy snorts, squaring his shoulders. "What's it to ya, pop?" "POP?" huffs Joe. Heads turn in his direction, and the aging corporal glances at Joe with a visible eyeroll. "Pop," mutters Joe, gazing at his feet. He notices something odd about his right shoe, and raises it just enough to notice that the edge of his rubber heel has worn down almost to the sole. He sighs, and awaits his own destiny.)

A nine-year-old Woodside girl is dead and her twin sister was severely injured after they were struck by a train while trying to cross a Long Island Railroad trestle at 38th Avenue and 54th Street. Karen Crane was killed by the fall off the trestle, while her sister Carol suffered a broken arm, leg, hip, and jaw from the impact. Describing the incident to police at St. John's Hospital in Long Island City, the girl admitted that she and her sister had disobeyed their parents' orders to remain at home, and had ventured out to enjoy the morning sunshine. They climbed the railroad embankment near their home, and were halfway across the trestle when the train struck them. The motorman told police he saw the children too late to bring the train to a stop. The girls' mother is a drill press operator for the Sperry Gyroscope Company's Garden City plant, and had left them home alone because Karen was ill with a cold, and Carol was needed to care for her. The girls' father is also a war worker, but neighbors said he has not been living with the family since last September.

With coal supplies in the city at a new low, and dealers complaining that the Solid Fuel Administration has failed to keep its promise to send more coal their way, Municipal Fuel Administrator Edwin P. Salmon is prepared to submit today to Mayor LaGuardia a plan he believes will result in relief. Mr. Salmon and his staff reported that they worked all day yesterday and well into the night on the details. Meanwhile, Health Department inspectors reported 317 homes in the city without coal, for a new high, as the sharp drop in temperatures further reduced the available supply of fuel. As last night approached, regional SFA administrator Walter J. Dockerill ordered the suspension of red tape, and authorized immediate emergency deliveries of anthracite to unheated homes without the necessity of waiting for a Health Department certificate of need.

("Amatchoors!" sneers Ma. "Oh, Oi don't know, Nora," chuckles Uncle Frank. "Oi'd caahl that a noice clean game!")

(You'd never know whose sister she is.)

(Don't worry kid, they'll have troubles of their own.)

In Denver, Colorado a 47-year-old man arrested for failure to produce his draft card on demand has been revealed as female. The man who gave his name to police as "Jack Starr" admitted under questioning that he was born Miss Jacqueline Moret, but has been living as a male since childhood. Miss Moret told police her mother died shortly after her birth, and her father, a "South Seas pearler," had always wanted a son and therefore raised her as a boy. She has worked as a riveter in a shipyard, as a steamfitter, as a truckdriver, and as a bartender. "It would kill me to have to wear women's clothes," she told police. "I'd rather work around men anytime."

("And the best thing of all," adds Fitz, "is that with the Blimp around, nobody's gonna call me 'Fat!'")

(Well, obviously. You didn't cauterize the stumps! Hey George, got a match?)

(A VERY WHOLESOME GIRL! AND IF YOU SAY OTHERWISE SHE'LL KNOCK YOUR HEAD IN!)

("And these feathers -- OH NO, MY PILLOWS!")

(You don't understand, bud -- NOBODY likes a physics teacher!)

(HOW IS IT THAT AMERICA'S NUMBER ONE HERO DOG DOESN'T HAVE A MOVIE DEAL??)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

Some father.

I'm shocked, shocked.

Jane Arden says SCRAM KID I'M WORKING THIS SIDE OF THE STREET

"Just a minute -- who keeps hanging up these weird posters in here?"

C'mon, kid, you know how this works -- if you don't have evidence, MAKE evidence.

"Hey Sarge, gimme your pistol." BANG! "OW! MY FOOT!"

Try the free clinic.

"Really? Is that fever contagious? Gimme that toupee!" RUB RUB RUB

"No fool like an old fool!"

Aw, you coulda had a playmate for the pelican.

 

[Fading Fast]

HOW IS IT THAT AMERICA'S NUMBER ONE HERO DOG DOESN'T HAVE A MOVIE DEAL??

"Even the Poverty Row studios have their standards. I, of course, only work with the majors."

"Sandy, Monogram Pictures is on the line, they want to talk to you about the role you just auditioned for."
"Shhh, not now, I"ll call them back."

 

[LizzieMaine]

("You didn' hafteh wait up," says Joe, entering the apartment shortly after 1 AM. "Eh," ehs Sally, looking up from a half-finished game of solitaire spread out on the kitchen table. "Leonoreh's eeh's achin' again, an' I hadda get up t'put on a compress. Figyehed I might as well stay up." "Yeh," nods Joe. hanging his jacket on the peg. "So..." sos Sally. "What'sa woid?" "Ain' a t'ing wrawng wit' me," sighs Joe, extracting a half-empty bottle of milk from the icebox and pouring himself a glass. He takes a seat at the table and swallows a sip. "T'ey say I could lose some weight, but t'ey say t' Awrmy'll take caehra t'at. T'ey say I got a coupl'a wisdom t'eet' t'at oughta come out, an'ney say t'Awrmy'll take caehra t'at. O'tehwise, I'm a hunne't p'cent One-Ay." "S'now what?" asks Sally, behind an expression of resignation. "When do ya repoeht?" "Well," wells Joe, "t'at's t'ting. T' draf' boeh'd gotta sen' me a 1-A cawrd, t'at'll happ'n in a day or two. An'nen t'ey tol' me t'sit tight an' I'll get me ordeh t' repoet f'induction wit'in 90 days. ""NINETY DAYS!" erupts Sally. "Y'mean t'eh stringin'nis out anot'eh t'ree mont's???" "It's a new rule jus' wen' inneh 'fect wit' t' new yeeh," explains Joe. "T'ey said t' old way, too many guys was havin' trouble windin' up t'eh affaiehs. So now t'ey give ya upta ninety days. But it's like t'is -- t'at don't mean I GOT ninety days. T"at's just whatchacawlla maximum. It could come nex' week, two weeks, nex' mont', anytime --jus' wit'in ninety days." Sally exhales and gazes numbly down at the cards laid out before her. Mechanically, she places a red five on a black six. "Well," she finally sighs. "I guess t'at's sump'n." Joe silently sips his milk. "Hey," he adds. "Y'got a red jack t'eh. Move oveh t'at stack witta black ten." "Yeh," whispers Sally. "Oh," Joe continues, stepping to the sink to rinse his empty glass. "Re'min' me, will ya? Befoeh I go inta woik, I gotta take t'ese boots oveh t'get a heel lif' put on. T'ey been makin' me stan' atta slant. "I was gonna mention t'at," murmurs Sally, gazing at her cards. "Madeja look like ya had one leg shorteh." Joe emits a bitter chuckle. "Yeh.")

Two local soldiers reported killed in action have turned up alive after all -- with the War Department having issued corrections to telegrams notifiying the parents of Private Walter M. Bernard of Brighton Beach and Private Nicholas Preggon of Bensonhurst that their sons are alive and well. Both boys, it turns out, had been wounded in action, but not fatally -- Pvt. Preggon had "superficial cuts on his body," while Pvt. Bernard was wounded in the leg, and had in fact been issued a citation for killing Nazis before "being thrown fifty feet in the air by an exploding bomb." Both boys were serving in the Sicilian and Italian campaigns.

Former First Lady Mrs. Lou Hoover died last night at the Waldorf Towers suite she shared with former President Herbert Hoover. They had come east from their home at Palo Alto, California to spend the holidays. Mrs. Hoover suffered a heart attack while dressing for dinner, and died with her husband at her side. Mrs. Hoover was 68 years old. The couple met in 1898, when Mrs. Hoover, the former Miss Lou Henry, was studying geology at Leland Stanford University. They married the following year. Outside of her activities with the Girl Scouts, of which she served as national president in 1922, Mrs. Hoover avoided the limelight, even while First Lady. Her entry in Who's Who in America contained only nine lines, listing her occupation as "translator." The Hoovers have two sons, Herbert Jr. and Allan, both of whom are reported to be on their way to New York from their California homes.

Wendell Willkie has withdrawn his opposition to the idea of holding the 1944 Republican National Convention in Chicago. The 1940 GOP nominee had earlier gone on record against a Chicago convention, noting that city's role as the center of the isolationist movement during the last election. Mr. Willkie stated yesterday that he believes a convention can be held there without being tainted by "isolationist propaganda circulated by the Chicago Tribune." The decision, however, was not up to Mr. Willkie, nor will the Democratic Party have any choice in the matter. Director Joseph E. Eastman of the Office of Defense Transportation has advised both parties that they can hold their conventions in any city they want, as long as that city is Chicago.

("Hey Sal," begins Alice. "Didja see t'is..." "I d'wanna see it," snaps Sally. "Yeh," nods Alice, tossing the paper under the seat. "I do'wanna see it neit'eh.")

(Ha ha.)

(Never mind all this, we wanna know who's gonna replace Parrott when he goes to work for Rickey? Hey, you know who'd be GREAT? JOHN MCDONALD. What about it, John?)

(No Olsen and Johnson, no Gypsy, and soon no Ethel Merman? It's like Broadway isn't even Broadway.)

(Well, considering you'd been wearing the same hairstyle since 1919, this IS momentous!)

("Giant War Chest." Well, that's a blunt title, but it tells them what they want to know.)

(Aren't there any NICE press agents? Any at all?)

(Surely you've read the "students don't like you" clause in your contract??)

(HEROES ARE MADE NOT BORN)

 

[LizzieMaine]

ANd in the Daily News...

Ew.

Coming Events Cast Their Shadows Before...

All right then. Who's up for typhoid?

Funny, I thought Skeez was from Illinois.

Shadow doesn't get out much anymore what with the war and all.

Is This Trip Really Necessary?

ONE MORE CRACK OUTTA YOU AND YOU RIDE IN THE BAGGAGE CAR

Of course.

Careful, Tracy -- Eavesdroppers Seldom Hear Good Of Themselves.

Everybody loves a quiet evening at home.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Yeh," yehs Joe, "I got t'is yest'dat fr'm me pal Solly Pincus -- V-Mail allaway fr'm It'ly." "Well now," nods Ma, seated at the kitchen table while Sally runs young WIllie downstairs to visit Krause and Alice. "Why don't ye go ahead aand read it." "Yeh," nods Joe. "Sez heeh, "Deeh Joe an' Sal, Sorry I have not had time to write but I guess you read t'papehs an' know I been kinda busy. Ha ha.' T'at's him laughin', y'see, Solly's awrways been a big jokeh." "Oh yes," acknowledges Ma. "Oi've harrrd ye say so." "An'nen," Joe continues, "he says 'T'weat'eh heeh has been fine if ya like t'is kin'a weat'eh. R'membeh when we was kids, we useteh tie a piece wood onna back'va trolley an' go slidin'? It's like t'at, on'y t'eh ain' no trolleys runnin'. A guy in my unit got fros'bite an'ney hadda cut off one'a his toes.' Huh. Guess t'ey shoulda took Mozelewski afteh'rawl." "Who's that now?" queres Ma. "Guy I woik wit' at t' plant. He got 4-F'd f'havin' six toes on each foot. I ask ya." "Ah," ahs Ma. "An'nen he says 'Speakin'a which, if you got any extra wawrm socks aroun' you c'n spaieh, my boit'day is comin' up. Hint, Hint. Alla boys aroun' heeh wish t'ey had moeh wawrm socks. How is things wit' you? I bet Leonoreh is gett'n big, an' keepin you bot' hoppin'. I guess she won' even know me when I get home. Is Sal still woikin' out in Joisey. I bet she is gettin' tiehd a' t'at. I on'y been to Joisey a coupl'a times, an' I got tiehd of it real quick. Ha ha.' T'at's him laughin' again." "Indeed," smiles Ma. "What do you heeh from Mickey? I bet he's got some good games goin'....' Uh, I guess he hadn'a hoid what happen't when he wrote t'is. I guess I ain' wrote to him f'ra while..." Ma sighs but says nothing. "An'nen he says, 'by t'way, did I tell ya t'ey made me a corp'ral? I guess t'at'll show t'em guys upta t'pickle woiks t'at said I would neveh amount t'nut'n. Write soon, ya pal Cpl. Solomon J. Pincus.' An'nen he says downa bottom, 'P. S. I bet you awr jus' count'na days till basebawl stawrts up again. If you see t'at Rickey, kick him inna behind f'Camilli fawr me. Ha. Ha.' An'nat's awl." "Thaat's a very foine letter," nods Ma. "He don' know about me yet," sighs Joe. "I oughta write'n tell 'im I'll be oveh t'eh meself soon enough." There is a bustle at the door as Sally enters, shaking her head with amazement. "I can't b'lieve t'at kid," she marvels as she takes a seat at the table. "Soon's he sees Krause he lights right up, stawrts follehrin' 'im aroun'. An' even Alice, gawdluvveh, she stawrts fussin' awlaroun 'im, gett'n'im a glassa milk, givin'im a banana, an'awlat." "Aiiiiin't that sooomthin'," declares Ma from behind a satisfied smile. "Oi really should bring him ovaar here moor aaahften." "Yeh," nods Sally. "Y'really otteh." "Hmm," hms Ma. "Oi'll think it ovarr.")

American forces, spearheaded by tanks, smashed out of the war-wrecked Italian village of San Vittore in three directions yesterday, moving toward the approaches to Cassino, main obstacle on the road to Rome. Lt. General Mark Clark's troops fanned out to the right and left from San Vittore before advancing straight ahead 1000 yards toward the hamlet of Guista, where Germans crouch in pillboxes. Several prisoners have already been taken in the advance. The clear, cold, and sunny weather is said to be "fine for fighting" as the 5th Army pushes ahead without pausing after the bloody four-day battle to take San Vittore. Most American troops shared the view of Pvt. Louis Pisapia of Brooklyn, who called the battle "the toughest fight of the Italian campaign. We really felt we did something, especially when these so-called Boches began surrendering with white flags as big as sheets."

The U. S. Senate's Truman Committee last night assailed the Government's $134.000.000 Canadian oil project, and termed "inexcusable" the Army's insistence on completing it in the face of expert opinion that it is unsound. In a report issued by Chairman Harry S. Truman (D-Mo.), the Senate War Investigating Committee charged that the Army expended vast amounts of strategic material and badly-needed manpower in a futile effort to establish a local source of gasoline in Alaska during the Japanese threat of 1942. "Had the energies and facilities devoted to the Canol project been devoted to devising means of transporting and storing oil products," the report asserted, "it would have been possible to have obtained large supplies many months before production will be obtained from the Canol project."

(Ever notice we never hear about bingo anymore?)

The Disabled American Veterans, Brooklyn Chapter 28, has approved a resolution endorsing the Gillette-Baldwin-Rogers Resolution now pending before Congress, which aims to create a special commission for the rescue of 4,000,000 Jews from Nazi-occupied Europe. Chapter Commander Michael Connors said "This is but a small contribution that can be made at this time by our organization, an organization that has been founded on the principles of trying to aid our comrades who have been wounded, and those who are fighting for the Allied cause for universal mankind."

Mayor LaGuardia and Police Commissioner Valentine were among those yesterday paying final respects to Patrolman Patrick Malone, "Smiling Paddy," traffic policeman killed on Wednesday by a hit and run driver on the Flatbush Avenue extension. Patrolman Malone was well known for his friendly disposition over the twenty years he had served as a traffic officer. Hundreds of Ptl. Malone's friends packed the New York and Brooklyn Funeral Home for the tribute, with 300 off-duty policemen joining in the funeral procession to St. Mary Queen of Heaven R. C. Church. Burial was in Holy Cross Cemetery.

("Whaaaat d'ye think'a this?" chuckles Ma, displaying the ad to Leonora, sitting on the floor paging thru her dictionary. "Spppppppppt!" is the immediate reply. "Do'wanna!" "Tol'ya," shrugs Sally. "Mind of'eh own." "Saaaarves ye roit!" Ma laughs.)

(Out in Hollywood, Barbara Stanwyck recalls her "Double Indemnity" wig, and shudders.)

("Look at this," notes Mrs. Helen Fitzsimmons. "Russo's going in the Army!" "Ah," nods Mr. Fred Fitzsimmons, rubbing his knee. "Shoulda gone in 1941!")

Craggy-faced Brooklynite William Bendix, who mows down Japanese troops in "Guadalcanal Diary," is in fact a kindly soul in real life. He never pushes anybody around, and, he notes, his "formidable features" discourage anyone else from trying to push HIM around. His story is a remarkable one -- ten years ago he was a grocery clerk, seven years ago he was on relief, and today he is the screen's most popular, and therefore highest-priced mug. It traces back to his big break on Broadway in William Saroyan's "The Times of Your Life," in which he so realistically portrayed a policeman that specators wondered when he'd resigned from the force.

(Come to think of it, I don't believe Mr. Barrymore ever made a Western. What a missed opportunity.)

(Um, has anyone seen MRS. Oursler lately?)

(Ah, yes, good ole Blue Pencil. No, wait, that's not it...)

(Well, at least she didn't hollow it out for a drinking mug.)

(I remember seeing one of these shows as a kid, and watching my fifth-grade teacher come prancing out in a top hat, a bustier, and fishnet stockings. DId I mention she was also our minister's wife? And here you thought Methodists didn't dance.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

ANd in the Daily News...

My great grandparents came here from Halifax. I wonder if a ghost was chasing them?

"IN BED" with a cold??? SLACKERS!

I'll have you know I myself own and wear a pair of those "matronly GI shoes," and they're perfectly fine. But I'd draw the line at the hat.

One of the prime rules of 1940s detective fiction: EVERYBODY KNOWS MORSE CODE.

"Look," sighs Chester Gould, "I don't mind ONE Amateur Dick Tracy, but now EVERYBODY'S in on it!"

If you play the game, Corky, don't be surprised when it's time to tally up the score.

We haven't seen Kayo go full troll for a while, and it's nice to see he hasn't lost the touch.

Taffy? Must be home on leave.

Hey, are you sure this is Joy?

Hey Terry, got a new roommate for ya!

 

[FOXTROT LAMONT]

Midi gets the bug sure. Dies a slow agonizer. Confesses all before hit-the-silk time, so Grett's off the hook.
Now our lad Terrence moves in on Grett, fish and chips, roses, wine. Howsoever, seems Grett and Taffy are
birds of a certain feather flock-ing together. Present tense herein. Crash and burn time for Terrence who
squares everything mom, apple pie with Peking duck, lotza free parking. Go gettim kiddo. Caniff, caught inside
editorial hot corner, transfers Taffy stateside. Grett resigns Red Cross, follows Taffy.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Waaaaaal," waaals Uncle Frank with a sip of his two-cents plain, "If ye aaask me, Oi think bringin' baaack Prohibition farr the duration would be a vaaary good thing faar the warr effort. Joost think of ahhl the troocks that would free oop to d'liver -- oh -- milk to babies, aaand aaahl the glaass and caaardboord baahxes it would free up faar -- ah -- oother people who need'm. Whoi, did ye know oot to the waaaarhoose we're havin' to use old Pepsi-Cola bottles? It's true!" "You caarry sooch a baaaarden ahhn ye shooldars, Francis," chuckles Ma. "Oi do that," nods Uncle Frank. "Incidentially," he continues, "Oi don't see the boy aroond. He's not in the -- ah -- back room again, is he?" "Ohhh no," replies Ma. "When Oi was ovarr to Bensonhurst yesterday, little William went down to visit with Mistarr Krause and Allice Dooley -- ah -- Mrs. Krause, that is. And d'ye know what they said? They said he had sooch a good toime, they waar woonderin' if it would be aahhl roit if he came ovarr to visit thim again aaafter school today. He does seem to have sooch a good toime, y'know. He sees thaat boilllaar, an' aaahl thim poipes, an' he loits roit oop." "Maybe," chuckles Uncle Frank, thru another sip of his drink, "he aaahght t'move roit in ovaar there." "How you taaalk Francis," dismisses Ma, with one eye cocked for the reaction. "Me own grandson, livin' aaaahl the way oovar to Bensonharrst. No, Oi couldn't possibly consider thaaat." "Suit yeself," responds Uncle Frank, emptying his glass. "Well, Oi got a --ploombin' jaaahb oot t' Canarsie t'day. Don't wait oop far me." "Still." muses Ma, with a practiced expression of careful consideration, "what ye say *dooos* make sense...")

The Polish government in exile is reported today to be studying an unofficial Russian proposal to compromise their ongoing border dispute by accepting the so-called "Curzon Line" of 1919 with some modifications as Poland's eastern frontier. The proposal, the first to be advanced by the Russians since the Soviets broke off relations with the exile government last April, will be presented formally by Moscow if the Poles agree to accept it as a basis for further negotiations. A British diplomatic correspondent for the London Sunday Observer, in reporting the proposal, indicated that it has the endorsement of British and American official quarters.

Meanwhile, marching under the Polish flag and singing "On To Warsaw," the Polish 2nd Division left Moscow yesterday en route to the front under the command of Maj. Gen. Sigmund Berling. The newly-formed army corps trained under both Polish and Soviet officers, and is primarily made up of Polish emigres to the Soviet Union and deserters from the German Army. A women's battalion, named after the famous Polish heroine Emila Plater, is also heading to the front as a part of the 2nd Division.

Swift and vigorous action by the city to combat the rising tide of anti-Semitism was pledged yesterday by Mayor LaGuardia. During his weekly radio broadcast over WNYC, the Mayor announced the appointment of an unofficial board of prominent citizens to review the record in the case of Patrolman James Drew, against whom departmental charges of subversive and anti-Semitic activity were dismissed. Patrolman Drew was alleged to be associating with noted local anti-Semites. The board, which includes former Police Commissioner George V. McLaughlin of Brooklyn, will weigh the evidence in the case as though it were being heard in a courtroom on appeal, with two former Appeals Court judges also appointed to serve. The Mayor also reported that he has issued a recommendation to Commissioner Lewis J. Valentine to remind all members of the Police Department that "exemplary conduct is expected of every member of the uniformed force in his relations with fellow citizens of all races, creeds, religions, and colo, and that there must be not the remotest connection, association, or relation between officers of the department and known criminals, racketeers, or persons engaged in creating dissension or agitating religious hatreds or racial prejudices." The Mayor also read a proclamation offering a $500 reward to any person providing information leading to the prosecution of any person charged with vandalism involving the desecration of any place of worship.

("Jeezuz," whispers Sally. "Yeh," nods Alice. "I seen'at." "Whatkin'a woil' we livin' in?" ponders Sally. "What kin'a woil izzis t'be raisin' a daughteh in?" "Same kin'a woil' *we* was raised in," sighs Alice. "You jus' ain' seen as much of it as me.")

A 51-year-old landscape gardener from Queens has been absolved of the rape-murder of a Jamaica woman last October by the confession of a 26-year-old "Negro laborer" to that and other crimes. Albert Jennings of Jamacia confessed yesteray to the slaying of Mrs. Marie Pearson, a bakery worker, who was attacked and killed while walking home from her job, and also to assaulting and robbing 25-year-old Adele Lindgren, a Government worker, after she got off a bus in Idlewild. Jennings' confession exonerates Pancrazio Ferrera, who was arrested and charged after police noticed him wandering in the Jamacia section wearing clothing and shoes stained with blood. Ferrarra was subsequently indicted by the Queens County Grand Jury for first-degree murder, and he has been held at the Kings County Hospital for mental observation. Although he has now been cleared on the murder charge, police say Ferrara will continue to be held as a mental case.

The city's 8000-ton anthracite reserve is being drawn upon today in an effort to ease the suffering of those without heat during the present cold spell. The Weather Bureau holds out little hope for a break in temperatures, with today's maximum expected to be no higher than 32 degrees, and by midnight tonight it is anticipated that temperatures in the city will drop to a low of 25, and to 18 or 19 in the suburbs.

("My ma neveh said a woid t'me about t'facks a'life," declares Miss Kaplan. "An' look how I toint out. Hey Joe, how'boutchoo? Whe'd you loin t'facks a' life?" ""I t'ought I knew awlat stuff," shrugs Joe. "But t'en me wife, she gimme t'is book when we got married. Loint'a lawt f'rm it." "T'Awrmy's gonna love you," chuckles Mozelewski. "By T' Book Petrauskas t'eh gonna cawl ya." "Aw, shuddup," flushes Joe. "Six toes!" he adds. "What?" erupts Mozelewski. "Nut'n," huffs Joe, his back up. "Liss'n, I'm gonna go sit oveh t'eh." "Awrful t'in skin," shrugs Mozelewski. "So easy t'get undeh'rit," nods Miss Kaplan. "I'm gonna miss 'im when 'e's gawn.")

The Eagle Editorialist deplores the persistence by the Office of Price Administration in its plan to issue stamped-fiber coins for making change from ration points. Noting the recent confusion of the public by the deeply-unpopular white metal pennies so easily mistaken for dimes, the EE wonders just how long it will be before sharp operators try to get away with using the new OPA tokens in vending machines. Price Administrator Chester Bowles is on the record as saying this won't happen. "Does he want," snickers the EE, "to bet?"

("Hey, I can toin a mimeograph handle as well azza nex' guy!")

American Communists, meeting tonight at Madison Square Garden, will consider a proposal to dissolve their party as a political entity, in favor of reestablishment as an organization devoted to politcal education. In advocating this step, general secretary Earl Browder acknowledged the pre-eminence of the "two party system" in American politics, and expressed the view that "world revolution" will not follow the war, but rather, that postwar reconstruction will be conducted under the present "free enterprise system."

(Although he will never wear a Brooklyn uniform, Mr. Nicholson will forever be a favorite at Ebbets Field. "SWIIIIIIIIISH!")

Leo Durocher says the Dodgers will finish no lower than third in 1944 -- and that, while the Cardinals remain the team to beat in the coming season, "the Dodgers and the Cubs are the teams to stop them -- IF they are stopped!"

(Body horror, Mr. Tuthill? I'd still rather see Oakdale.)

("See folks? Just like the "G-String Murders!")

("Expensive? Smells like raw chicken to me!")

("Hope you brought your ration book!")

(DOGS ARE NOT DUMB. BUT SOME DOGS ARE SMARTER THAN OTHERS. ISN"T THAT RIGHT?)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

Only ten days into the new year, and Charlie's back on Page Four. It's like he's the new Barrymore.

"NOT ALL DOGS OF COURSE." -- America's Number One Hero Dog.

Good thing they never let Flattop in the Boy Scouts.

You have no idea who you're dealing with, Mac.

"And a sap." "What?" "Nothing, my boy, nothing at all."

"Oh, Jessica, did you notice we're being followed by a mysterious man in black?" "Aw, that's just my date for tonight. He listens to the radio too much."

And wait'll your mother finds out.

Turn your head, captain, and cough.

With a quiet chuckle, Krause clips out the cartoon and tacks it up in the boiler room.

Better hop to it, Kayo, the bird is stealing your act.