The Era -- Day By Day

[FOXTROT LAMONT]

Taffy's not pulled. Sleeps too much lately. And Sahib might be buying this American harem lass, no less than his rival
across the street; sweets another C-note to seal the deal, yet pierced veil recover is elusive. A counter offer presumably has just been made Sahib. However, Flip my bic Corkin is seemingly admonishing Taffy Apples for his
libidinous lack penile perpendicularity, apparently she needs to fan the flames. But, Taffy's off the chain. Entirely. Flipper cuts her loose to thermometer flight squadron, ground crew, and enlisted maintenance personnel.
Just reading between the lines here folks.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("I need a new paieh'ra galoshes," grumbles Sally, stomping clods of slush off her work boots as she and Alice board the outbound train at Hudson Terminal. "I hate snow, y'know t'at?" "Yeh," shrugs Alice. "But hey, y'otta do what I done. Look heeh," she continues, pointing to her own feet. "See t'em g'loshes on'neh? Y'know wheh I gawttem? Siddy made 'em!" "G'wan!"marvels Sally. "Sweahtagawd," declares Alice. "We foun' t'ese ol' inneh tubes behin' a pile'a junk downa basemen', an' Siddy was gonna t'row'm inna scrap drive, but I sez ta him, I sez, 'hey, don' t'row t'em t'ings inna scrap pile. Y'c'n use'm t'patch up me g'loshes. You know t'em ol' ones I had? Wit' t' buckles onna front t'eh? Hey, remembeh when it wassa style 'eh t'go aroun' wit' t'em buckles unbuckled?" "I was nine yeehs ol' when'nat was t' style," eyerolls Sally. "I tried'at oncet, an' Ma slapped me face awff. She didn' go in f't'tat stuff. But neveh mine'at, whas'sawlis 'bout Krause makin' ya galoshes?" "Well, Siddy says t'me, he says, 'yeh,' you know, like he awrways says t'at, 'yeh,' he says," continues Alice. "So he t'akes t'at inneh tube t'eh, an' cuts it' up an' stawrts, you know, gluin' on patches on me g'loshes. An'neh was so many holes, he jus' kep' goin' an' pretty soon I had -- well, a whole new paieh'ra g'loshes. Ain'nat swell?" "Yeh," nods Sally, without irony. "T'at's pretty good." "Too bad ain'no moeh't'em inneh tubes lef'," shrugs Alice, summing up with an apologetic explanation. "I got, y'know, big feet." "Yeh," nods Sally." "Hey, t'ough," Alice adds, "when Joe goes inna awrmy, y't'ink he'll give ya his numbeh 18 coupon?" "He ain' got t'at no moeh," replies Sally. "He tol' me he give t'at t'somebody at woik t' do 'im a faveh." "Oh," frowns Alice. "He shouldn'a done'at." "No," disagrees Sally, "he shoulda. An'nee did." "Yeh," shrugs Alice. "I guess Joe's like t'at. Give ya t'shoit off'is back, an'na shoe off 'is foot." "Yeh," nods Sally, recalling the circumstances of that particular transaction.)

Ohio Governor Owen Bricker today called for an absolute ban on all labor strikes for the duration of the war. Speaking at a Lincoln Day dinner in Washington, the Ohio Republican's remarks were seen as outlining a key element in his campaign for the GOP presidential nomination. Bricker's speech combined bitter condemnation of the New Deal with significantly kind words for Congress, and while the Ohio governor was unyielding in his criticism of the Roosevelt Administration, he likewise turned his back on the isolationist wing of his party by endorsing the United States' participation, after the war, "in a cooperative organization of soveriegn nations."

Charges that Mayor LaGuardia has taken political steps to control the Board of Education were leveled today by the National Education Association. A examination of Board minutes would confirm those charges, alleged an NEA source, in view of the Mayor's support of a resolution that would expel any Board member absent from three meetings. The NEA investigation asserted that the Mayor used such Board vacancies to appoint new members he knew would be favorable to his own policies, such as his proposal to close Townsend Harris High School. An examination of the minutes would reveal, claimed the source, that a majority of Board members are now "subservient to the Mayor's wishes."

("I been t'inkin'," muses Joe. "Sunday night 'm gonna take Sal out onna town. Y'know? Maybe go someplace nice, wit' tableclot's 'n ev'ryt'ing. Maybe, I dunno, whatta we got heeh. I neveh been t't' Brass Rail." "Fulla touris'," dismisses Miss Kaplan. "What touris'?" frowns Joe. "Who's a touris' t'is time'a yeeh? An' what touris' comes t'Brooklyn anyway?" "Smawrt touris'," nods Miss Kaplan. "Y'go t'em jernts inna city, why, y'gotta wait onna line, y'gotta put up wit' awlkin'sa guff fr'm people, an' who needs it? T'smawrt ones, t'ey come t'Brooklyn. Look t'ings oveh, go up t'Williamsboig Bank buildin', go get sump'n t'eat. Ride aroun' onna BMT. Make a reg'leh day of it. Maybe even see a celebrooty -- y'know, John Cashmoeh, Branch Rickey, Pete McGuinness, Lois DeFee -- y'know, awlem kin'sa people." "Y'know wheh we otta go," interrupts Joe. "Gage 'n Tollnehs. I neveh been inneh, but I heeh it's real ritzy." "Meh," mehs Miss Kaplan. "It ain' so hawt. Guy I knew took me t'eh oncet, I got awl dressed up, buttit was so dawrk inneh I might's well been wearin'ese ovehrawls." "What coleh you weahrin?" queries Mozelewski. "I dunno," shrugs Miss Kaplan, "I had onna black dress 'a sump'n." "Neh," declares Mozelewski. "Y'gonna be inna dawrk room y'don' wanna weah no black. Y'need sump'n lighteh -- but not too light. Wit'choo, maybe sump'n eggshell coleh, awr ev'n a light peach." Mozelewski trails off, aware that Miss Kaplan and Joe are regarding him with a quizzical squint. "Hawrpeh's Bizzawr," he shrugs. "I got a subscription.")

("Well now, William," begins Ma, scanning the amusement listings. "Hoo'd ye loike t'go see a pictharr show t'noit. Tharr's a picture cahhled 'Happy Land' playin' at the Patio!" Willie screws up his face with distaste. "Go see Uncle Siddy?" he requests. "Makin' boots!" he adds. "What's the boy taalkin' aboot now?" queries Uncle Frank. "Sooch a woild imagination." "Come now, William," insists Ma. "Ye'd like t'see a pitcher aboot a Happy Land, wouldn't ye? Whoi, I bet it's all aboot, ooooh, magic an' fairies an' castles an' floyin' harrses an' all such as that." "I harrd aboot that pitchar," shrugs Uncle Frank. "It's aboot a boy gets killed in th' warr." "Ah," ahs Ma, her face darkening. "Go see Uncle Siddy?" injects Willie. Yeh," sighs Ma.)

The Eagle Editorialist warns Finland that its only chance for survival is to break its alliance with Nazi Germany and conclude a separate peace with Russia. "Americans cannot help but sympathize with this unhappy land in its present plight," acknowledges the EE. "Early retirement from the war before the full weight of Russia's might is felt holds the sole hope of its survival."

(It's a worker's market!)

A new revision of the Bible eliminating the stiff "thees, thous, and thines" of the familiar King James Version will be published as soon as the wartime paper shortages abate. The new version, a revision of the American Standard Version of 1901, which was itself a revision of the King James Version of 1611, was announced yesterday by the International Council on Religious Education, holding its annual convention this week in Chicago. The new version bases its changes on modern translation of the original Greek, derived from the most up-to-date study of ancient manuscripts. The new version has been under preparation for the past seven years.

Three tons of lewd magazines will be added to the current scrap paper drive, after they were siezed in a raid at the factory and warehouse of the Delta Press in Manhattan. Two bookstores handling the obscene publications were also raided by police, following complaints by the New York Society for the Prevention of Vice. Investigators say the magazines feature lascivious photographs and obscene written matter. A few copies of each magazine will be kept as evidence, with the rest of the material to be turned in as paper scrap.

(I thought Mort Cooper went in the Army? Unless the draft-board doctor was a Cardinal fan?)

Leo Durocher's punctured eardrum might have gotten him a 4-F, but the Lip is still getting a taste of the Old Army Game. During his current USO tour with comedian Danny Kaye, the Dodger manager got into a crap game at an AAF field in Flordia, and by the time he finally got up off his knees, he'd been relieved of $400.

(I know actual showgirls, and they, well, aren't this dumb.)

(C'mon, Sibyl, be your best self.)

(When you're around idiots long enough, it all just rolls off your back.)

(Meanwhile, did you grab a fistful of those super-power-pills? Might come in handy when you have to mop up this bathroom.)

("Adopt, don't shop.")

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

Mildred is forcibly restrained by her mother, or by a wild grizzly bear?

You can't say she doesn't do her research.

That's your brilliant idea? The low forehead makes a lot of sense.

Geez, Phyllis -- have you considered collecting stamps?

"Rinse Out Your Pail -- For AMERICA!"

"Jon Stardust? You stood behind while an old man and -- um -- whatever Andy is -- had to rescue me? I NEVER WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN!"

Harold Gray is a proud ally to editors everywhere. Isn't that so?

One of the unique properties of Frank Willard's art is that you can actually smell the characters. Unfortunately.

"But -- look, we've been engaged twice, and the first time you forgot the marriage license and made a fool of me, and the second time you got engaged to another woman at the same time and made a fool of me -- and well, I'm no fool..."

Assuming that Madame Shoo-Shoo is Burma, and who else could she possibly be, the last time we saw her, she was gravely wounded, in the back of a speeding truck in the hills of China, and was about to shoot Captain Judas in the face. I do hope we find out how she went from that to "Madam Shoo Shoo."

 

[FOXTROT LAMONT]

Miss Parrott certainly is not guilty of undermining US Army morale. Quite the lass that.

And Terrence is snug inside his shearling. Corkin is a splendid officer to serve under and his aerial navigation remark
really scores the innate complexity of it all. A real professional.

Again, the jackets sketched superbly. Caniff catches details such as the Irvin's heavy leather drape. Drooling.
And not just jackets here. Caniff is deceptive devil neatly silhouetting the harem maiden, so to deliberately allude
her sans brassiere. Areola nipple port side definitely entire breast with arms raised for effect.

 

[LizzieMaine]

"Hmph!" grumbles Alice, boarding the outbound train after a long day's work. "No Eagle t'day! What's wit'tem, anyways? What'm I s'posta read onna way home, anyways, t' Hobo News?" "You seen'at yestehday," reminds Sally. "Said t'eh t'ey wasn' gonna put out no papeh t'day 'cause it's Lincoln's Boit'day a' sump'n." "Well," proclaims Alice as the two take their seats. "I guess'at makes sense. Maybe Lincoln didn' like newspapehs a'sump'n. Hey, Sal -- maybe t'ey won' publish no papeh on LaGuardieh's boit'day!" Sally snickers at the joke. "An'ney said too," she notes, "t'at it was t'save papeh. Y'know, t'is papeh shawrtage is outta control." "I don' b'lieve it," scoffs Alice, sweeping her arm across the car. "Lookit awlem papehs undeh t'seats 'eh. T'ehs t' Joinel American 'neh..." She trails off as Sally's face twists into a scowl. "Oh yeh," nods Alice. "Hoist. An' Kilgallen. Well'en look 'eh, t'ehs a Daily Woikeh t'eh -- t'at's moeh yawr speed, but 'cept f't'at Pinky Rankin t'funnies ain' so hot. Wait, look, hee'za Daily News." "Read'at awready," shrugs Sally. "At lunch, remembeh?" "Well, I ain'read it," declares Alice. And thus she commences so to do....

"Ahhh, don'cha t'ink winteh's beautyful?" trills Miss Kaplan. "Comin' in heeh t'night, comin' 'crawst Sunset Pawrk an' seein' awla snow piled up. Jus' like one'a 'tem ads f'whiskey wheh t'eh'r awl sitt'n inna ski lawdge an' ya see awla snow out t'windeh." "I neveh noticed awla diff'rn't kinds'a winteh coats t'dames is got on," comments Mozelewski. "But when y'DO notice, y'see how many of'm don' FIT!" Joe flips a bemused look in his colleague's direction. "Hawrpeh's Bizzawr," he mutters, as Mozelewski nods. "Me, I can't stan' winteh," Joe continues. "Remin's me 'a t'at winteh I was onna WPA, shovelin' show. T'ey had us up inna city t'eh one time, out'n fronna t'liberry? Shovelin' awf t'em steps t'eh, out by t'em lions. Y'know how many steps t'at is? T'es twenny-eight steps, t'at's how many. I ain' too fonda steps, neit'eh." "Betteh'rn Italy," declares Miss Kaplan, her eye cocked in Joe's direction. "Me pal Solly's oveh t'eh," nods Joe, his face darkening. "He don' like snow neit'eh."

"Charlie Chaplin," sighs Ma. "Ye could b'lieve such things'a Errol Flynn. But Charlie Chaplin?" ""Aaaahlways p'referred Boostar Keaton meself," comments Uncle Frank with a sip of his two-cents-plain. "They say he's a drinkin' man." "Maybe thaat's why ye nevar hear of him now," mutters Ma. "What?" "Noothin'."

Gee Burms, first Judas, then Kiel, then Judas again, and now this guy. Have you considered therapy?

This whole conversation is right out of Margery Wilson's Complete Book of Charm.

"Great. Now let's neck -- no, wait, I can't do it with Lincoln watching..."

Meanwhile, what of poor Corporal Slice? Guess he really did die. OH WELL.

"No one is even betting on the verdict. And I've been to every candy store in town!"

"Shut up and eat your Ralston -- or you won't get the Tom Mix secret telescope!"

So far, Mr. Top has shown himself to be epically stupid. I hope he ends up, I dunno, rolled up in a carpet and getting stung by hundreds of bees.

And that's how Mamie got hooked on paregoric.

 

[FOXTROT LAMONT]

I must say Caniff's harem lass has my interest. But those Irvins are June forecast perfectly drawn.
And our lad Terrence is keen-for-the-scene. Lad truly needs to sow wild oats before hormonal overdrive leads
him to start a barfight and get knifed. New Delhi is just the town to lose a frown.

 

[FOXTROT LAMONT]

Another Northeast blizzard forecast I see. Good luck with the snow. Stay warm.

 

[LizzieMaine]

We're supposed to get off easy up here, but I've long learned not to trust forecasts. Got a shovel in the back seat of my car.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Sal?" whispers Joe, squinting into the pre-dawn murk. "You 'wake?" "Yeh," Sally returns. "Don' tawk loud, let Leonoreh sleep." "I wan'ned t'sleep in t'day," sighs Joe. "It's oueh las' Sunday befoeh -- you know. But t'moeh I t'ink about sleepin' in, t'less I can." "Yeh," sighs Sally. "Whatcha wanna do t'day?" continues Joe. "We oughteh go visit y'Ma, I mean, it's gonna be t'las' chance we get to do it awlt'get'eh f'ra while." "Yeh," agrees Sally. "Maybe we go f'ra wawlk while w'eh oveh't'eh," suggests Joe. "Go t'ru Prospec' Pawrk. Maybe wawlk up by Ebbets Feel, go t'Flynn's f' suppeh. Maybe go bowl a coupl'a games at Fitz's. Maybe take in a show at t' Patio. Maybe ev'n wawk down Midwood Street, y'know? Look oveh some houses, right? F' afteh t'wawr? Awr we c'd go out steppin' one las' time, y'know? See who's playin' oveh t' Roselan'? Lotta t'ings we c'd do." "Yeh," sighs Sally. "Whatta YOU wanna do?" queries Joe. "If y'wanna do sump'n else, well, we c'd..." "I wanna jus' lie heeh f'ra while, Joe," interrupts Sally. "Jus' you'n me. Jus' f'ra while. T'at's awl." "Yeh," sighs Joe. "I t'ink I wawn'nat too...")

The official newspaper of the Soviet Communist Party today charged the Polish Government-in-Exile with secretly harboring a pro-Axis agenda. In an article bristling with sarcasm, the newspaper Pravda asserted that the true goal of the exile government is a policy of "utter defeat" for the Soviet Union, and that thru the Polish Underground, that government has actively collaborated with the Nazis. "The collaboration of these Polish fascists is not confined to a number of single cases," argued the article, "but represent a working system." The article further contended that the Polish exile government is happy to let Germany defeat the Soviet Union in order to serve its own purpose. "The Polish opportunists don't think of their country as being oppressed by the Germans," asserted the editorial. "They don't give a damn about the freedom-loving peoples' fight against Hitlerism. On the contrary, they fear such a victory because with all their heart they hope for the defeat of the Soviet Union and of Russia. They have always dreamed of it, and now, when the Red Army is defeating Germany, their stiffening rage is even greater." The article concludes with the charge that the exile government has "stood with its arms folded" in London while the Germans work for the "extermination of the Polish people."

Louis "Lepke" Buchhalter has no intention of "squealing" his way out of the electric chair, state insiders at Sing Sing Prison as the March 2nd execution date for the convicted Murder for Money gangster draws closer. Against whom or what he is refusing to "squeal" was not stated, and prison authorities maintained official silence concerning whatever the condemned man says or does. Inside reports do state, however, that a uniformed guard is positioned outside Lepke's Death Row cell at all times -- not out of concern for an escape attempt, but to prevent any possibility of Buchhalter attempting to cheat the executioner by committing suicide in his cell.

Charges that the civilian employment office of the Brooklyn Navy Yard is engaging in racial and religious discrimination in violation of Federal anti-discrimination laws have been filed with the Fair Employment Practices Committee by the Citizens Anti-Discrimination Committee and the Commission on Economic Problems of the American Jewish Congress. The charges state that the Yard refuses to hire Negro employees for office work, and that its personnel office uses a system of special marks to indicate when an employee is a Negro if the photograph on that employee's badge does not clearly show his race. It is further charged that Negro laborers are not offered advancement according to their seniority rights, and that they are systematically excluded from promotion to supervisory positions, are generally concentrated on night shifts, and that Negro women are given the "dirtiest and most undesirable jobs" at the Yard. The charges further assert that discrimination is widely practiced against Jewish employees, especially concerning the matter of their taking time off for the High Holy Days, and that Jewish workers are routinely subjected to "hazing" by supervisors.

("Oi don't know, Francis," sighs Ma. "Aaaahl these new ways a' dooin' things. I tell ye, Oi've seen a lotta changes..." "An'," interrupts Uncle Frank, "ye been against ev'ry one'uv'm.")

(There is, indeed, a New World Coming. And I recommend Mr. Ottley's book as an honest look at the realities of race relations in wartime America.)

Y'know," begins Alice, as Krause shakes the furnace grates, "dawgs is swell. I awrways liked dawgs. When I run't away fr'm t'sistehs t'eh, I made frien's wit'tis dawg, y'know? Jus' a plain ol' alley dawg, y'know, not one'a ya high hat dawgs like inna papeh heeh, but a good ol' mutt, y'know? We slep' innis celleh up t'ehr in Greenpernt f'ra while, an' anytime a cop 'r anybody'd show up, why t'is dawg w'd bawrk, an' lemme know when I betteh hide. He was a good dawg. An' y'know what I cawl't 'im? I cawl't 'im Rosebud! Ain'nat a scream?" "Yeh,"chuckles Krause, shifting his cigar and shaking his head. "A dawg's a good t'ing f'ra kid t'have aroun'," nods Alice. "Like if we was t'have a kid aroun' heeh, we otta have a dawg too, t', y'know, be a pal to 'im, right?" Krause takes the cigar out of his mouth and regards its soggy end. "Yeh," he nods. "T'ez a lotta swell dawgs oveh't't poun' right now," suggests Alice. "Willie's comin' oveh t'day, ain'nee? What if we go oveh an' take a look?" "Yeh," nods Krause. )

(What about the pennant-winning 1916 Dodgers, who pranced about the field in delightful windowpane checks? It was a look that suited the lean and the rangy, like Zack Wheat and, gawbless'im, Casey Stengel -- but it made tubby old Uncle Wilbert Robinson look like he was wearing a shower curtain.)

(A standard gold ingot weighs just under 27 1/2 pounds. So yeah, but you might want a big burro.)

("Single Ladies UNDER 25," huh? I think there's a word for this.)

(Clearly some people just can't handle the comics.)

(When you realize that Phil Fumble is a self-caricature of Ernie Bushmiller, so much of "Fritzi Ritz" starts to make sense. And it somehow gives me relief to know that humans aren't quite as predatory as dragonfiles. But it's not for lack of trying.)

(You'd think Bill would wise up by now, but after all, what good is wised-up comedy relief?)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

Brace up, Lepke. At least you're not gonna get tossed out a window.

WHY AREN'T YOU IN THE ARMY?

I habitually avoid walking under ladders, not because I'm superstitious, but because there's usually somebody up there hoisting a stage light. And those things are HEAVY.

Just like I said. EPICALLY stupid.

Chester is too young yet to have his faith in humanity spoiled. And jeez, lady, don't get so worked up about it, it's just toothpaste!

Mr. Gray goes full ACAB. Who'd have imagined. And hey, Gretch, get out now while you still can.

"Not with me it ain't." And that's how music critics get started.

"Savin' it for a little guy." Because that's how clerks really talk when the customer isn't around. And Harold Gray can rant about cops all he wants, but Pepsi will always be pro-police.

C'mon, Mosely, you've got Charles Laughton as a headhunter chief, and you have to waste a whole Sunday on propaganda?

It really is a very very small world.

 

[FOXTROT LAMONT]

Terrence should score a victory.

 

[PrivateEye]

We're supposed to get off easy up here, but I've long learned not to trust forecasts. Got a shovel in the back seat of my car.

At this time yesterday they were saying 8-12 inches here, this morning it was 1-3 inches, and just rain so far.

I wish I could be wrong as often as the weatherman and still keep my job.

 

[PrivateEye]

(What about the pennant-winning 1916 Dodgers, who pranced about the field in delightful windowpane checks? It was a look that suited the lean and the rangy, like Zack Wheat and, gawbless'im, Casey Stengel -- but it made tubby old Uncle Wilbert Robinson look like he was wearing a shower curtain.)

Perhaps the worst uniform in MLB history...though the Astros, White Sox and Padres have had some contenders for the title over the years.

 

[LizzieMaine]

Uncle Robbie in all his glory.

Willie Mullins, eatcha hawrt out.

 

[Fading Fast]

My personal favorite comment on people holding superstitions.

It is said that a visitor once came to the home of Nobel Prize–winning physicist Niels Bohr and, having noticed a horseshoe hung above the entrance, asked incredulously if the professor believed horseshoes brought good luck. “No,” Bohr replied, “but I am told that they bring luck even to those who do not believe in them.”

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Well whoeveh it was, t'ey gotta lotta noive," snaps Miss Kaplan. "T'very ideeh, sendin' me a comic valentine! ME!" "Awrfl," mumbles Mozelewski, his mouth full of hash sandwich. "Whassawlis?" queries Joe, taking his seat at the table. "T'is heeh," growls Miss Kaplan, thrusting the offensive card in Joe's face. "I mean, t'NOIVE a' some people." "Lemme see," examines Joe, "'Awl day lawng ya findin' fawlt -- An' shootin' awf ya face -- But I tell ya toots -- ya constant gab -- is stinkin' up t'place!' HA! An' look heeh, t'ez a pitcheh of a skunk wit' a dress on, yellin' inna telephone! Ha! T'at's pretty good!" "It ain' neiteh good!" fumes Miss Kaplan. "Look what t'ey wrote onna back!" "'P. S.,'" reads Joe, flipping over the card. "T'at new blouse you got don't suit you at'awl.'" "T'noive!" Miss Kaplan blusters. "Awrful," nods Joe, with a glance at Mozelewski's impassive hash-chewing mask. "Well, what'd YOU do f'Valentine's?" sighs Miss Kaplan, tearing the offending card into small pieces. "Me'n Sal wen' out steppin' las night," relates Joe, unwrapping a hard-won brisket sandwich. "Fois' time in a lawng time. Upta Roselan'. T'at's wheh we met, y'know, dancin'. Back when it was t' Suzy-Q anna shag an' truckin' an' peckin' an' posin'. T'ese dances t' kids got now, t'ough, I don' get it. We tried t' keep up, but, y'know, yout' f't' yout's, I guess." "I remembeh bein' young," injects Mozelewski. "I neveh quite got t' hang of it." "Aw, not me," declares Miss Kaplan. "I ain' tellin' nobody how old I am, an' t'ey ain' figyehin' it out." "Long as t'eh's haieh dye," chuckles Mozelewski into his sandwich. Miss Kaplan frowns across the table, and glances down at the torn-up Valentine. But Mozelewski's face is an inscrutable blank, dappled at the corners of the impassive mouth with tiny bits of hash.)

The four Japanese airfields protecting Rabaul have been practically neutralized, it was indicated today in a communique after Allied planes had dropped 134 tons of bombs in a new attack on Japan's big New Britain base. All types of bombers, flying with fighter escorts from bases in the Solomons, hit the Vunapope, Tobera, and Vunakanow airdromes in a concentrated midday attack on Friday, downing eight Japanese planes.

Immediate trade ties with Russia and China were urged last night by Wendell WIllkie, in a San Francisco campaign speech, part of a Far West tour which also saw the 1940 Republican presidential nominee lunching at Sacramento with California Governor Earl Warren. Speaking largely of the industrial prospects on the West Coast, Willkie urged that postwar economic expansion in the region depends on expanded foreign trade, and recommended that "without waiting for any postwar golden age," the Federal Government should take immediate steps to establish trade ties with the Soviet Union, China, Australia, and "other political entities across the Pacific."

Mayor LaGuardia clashed unexpectedly yesterday with Rabbi Stephen S. Wise over the matter of Patrolman James Drew, against whom charges of anti-Semitism were dismissed by Police Commissioner Lewis J. Valentine. The Mayor and Rabbi Wise were both attending a national conference to combat anti-Semitism at the Hotel Pennsylvania, and when the Mayor defended Commissioner Valentine's decision on the Drew case, Rabbi Wise interrupted with a sharp rebuke, demanding to know why the full testimony given during Drew's departmental trial was not made public. Rabbi Wise further criticized the Mayor's appointment of an unofficial committee to review the Drew case, noting that none of the panel members selected are Jewish. The Mayor snapped back that he had no authority to oust Drew from the police force, and further retorted that "it is unfair to hold up New York, where the Jews have risen to prominence in business and government as a city where anti-Semitism is rife. It is not true. It is not fair to defame the city." "You defamed the city yourself," countered Rabbi Wise. "You defamed New York City when you became a candidate for Mayor. You said New York was stinking in its rottenness! And it was!" The Mayor then denounced the press for its coverage of recent allegations of anti-Semitism in the city, singling out the New York Post and PM for particular opprobrium. "Thank God," retorted Rabbi Wise, "for such newspapers!

("I'm goin' oveh t'eh t'night," declares Sally. "Afteh woik. I'm gonna get dressed up an' I'm goin' t' Loeseh's, an' I'm gonna get a pitcheh took, Of T' Betteh Kind. F'Joe t'take wit'tim, y'know? An' y'know what I'm gonna weah?" "You betteh not weah t'at nightgown," admonishes Alice. "I don' t'ink t'ey t'ake t'em kin'a pitchehs inta LOESEH'S! But if ya wanna, I know t'is guy downa Coney Islan..." "I'm gonna weah," declares Sally, "me wedd'n dress." "You tol' me you didn' have no wedd'n dress," interjects Alice. "You said you got married in ya Woolwoit's unifawrm." "I did," affirms Sally. "An' I still got it at home. An' it still fits. Joe'll love it. It's whatcha cawl sennamental." "I dunno," shrugs Alice. "Y'sueh he woudln' ra'teh have t' nightgown?" "Trus' me," nods Sally. "He sees t'at nightgown ev'ry night. But he ain' seen'at unifawrm since 1937. Well -- um -- not moeh'n once a' twicet." "What?" "Nut'n.")

(If Butch finds his views on this matter aligning in any way with those of Westbrook Pegler, it may very well be a sign that Butch needs to close his mouth and just not talk for a while.)

The Eagle Editorialist clucks his tongue in the direction of Charlie Chaplin, admitting that he "just cannot sympathize" with the great comedian, "whose presence in hot water can be blamed on no one but himself." The EE also notes, with eyebrow arched, that Chaplin has not been seen to make any appearances to entertain the troops, as so many other prominent personalities have done. "Possibly he has been too busy with his private life," the EE wasps. "That seems to be complicated enough to require all of his middle-aged energy."

(Government of the bald, by the bald, and for the bald.)

(Ah, Howie "Steeple" Schultz. If only he were as good as his nickname.)

(I mean, who didn't see this coming?)

(As J. Hartford Oakdale approached the building, his secondhand uniform flawlessly pressed, and his mind carefully reviewing every facet of his new scheme, he was hit in the forehead by a curious little bottle....)

(That moment of time when you see the car heading straight into the side of the buidling and everything seems to shift into slow motion...)

("Mr. Darrow? We're from the Narcotics Squad.")

(AMERICA'S NUMBER ONE HERO DOG suddenly recognizes Branch Rickey's niece.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

A baby delivered by an undertaker? Paging John Hix! Mendy Weiss never met Lepke? Paging Robert Ripley!

Butch is using guest stars now? Hey, can you get Georgie Jessel?

Well, a guy who calls himself "Flattop" is probably not exactly overendowed in the cranium.

Well, kid, you've been in China, now you're in India -- that leaves only -- ah ....

If you're gonna rake muck, you gotta get down deep where the real muck is.

"Progress Is Our Most Important Product."

Look kid, either get your back looked at, or stop doing these Groucho Marx imitations.

"But what about me?" -- Poor Corporal Slice, resting in pieces.

23 years old. Our dear little boy.

A Name-The-Baby Contest? How about "Desperation."

 

[LizzieMaine]

Oh, and --

"Hey!" snorts Joe. "Maybe I'm gett'na lit'l tubby, but I c'n STILL DANCE!"

 

[Fading Fast]

"Butch is using guest stars now? Hey, can you get Georgie Jessel?"

One thing we know, it won't be Rabbi Wise.

 

[FOXTROT LAMONT]

Terrence wears his A2 jacket to definite effect. Flying Tigers circular crest itself superb artistry.
And that American individuality adds lustre to leather. In the British Army regiments give the singular stamp of course
but the Yanks take collective down further to the individual for extraordinary imprimatur.