The Era -- Day By Day

[LizzieMaine]

Butch crossed the line there. He's up for reelection next year, and people have long memories.

Meanwhile, I almost forgot...

They've been waiting two years for cameras to be legal on the beach again.

 

[Trenchfriend]

@LizzieMaine

Kirkman had the blueprint for "sexy advertising"?

 

[LizzieMaine]

I hear Jinx Falkenburg and Chili Williams are negotiating to appear in a "Kay and Mae" movie.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("You lissen t't''at las' night?" scoffs Sally. "Y'know who he soun's like? He soun's like t'at flooehwawkeh we useta have at Woolwoit's, t'at one'd come aroun' an' say 'less tawk an' moeh woik, goils, less tawk an' moeh woik.' An'nen he'd go out'na alley an' have a cig'rette. Whatta joik." "I didn' lissen," shrugs Alice. "I don' lilke politics. Politics neveh done nut'n f'me." "Politics done a LOT fa' you," argues Sally. "Whe'd you be wit'tout t' New Deal, huh? I ask ya!" "I dunno," dismisses Alice. "Same place I am now, I guess." "Well," Sally continues, "wasn' f't'New Deal, I'da neveh met Joe. Joe was onna WPA, an' he got awf woik an' wenta Roseland t'at night, him an' Solly Pincus standin' onna stag line. An' me'n Mildred McCullough was t'eh, an' Mildred was awl, 'don' go oveh t'eh, don't tawk t'tem WPA guys, look 'at'm innem poehk pie hats like a coupl'a poolroom charactehs, you do'wanna get mixed up wit' t'em!' Well, I ain' gonna let Mildred McCullough tell ME what t'do. Not f''ya Aunt Minnie! So I go oveh t'eh, an' I didn' t'ink Solly looked too good, y'know, he's too skinny, an' he had awn a bow tie, an' Ma awrways said neveh trust a man weahs a bow tie, but Joe, well, y'know, ev'ryt'ing's jus' about like it should be, y'know? He's jus' right. An' I go oveh t'eh an' I sez, 'c'mon, Coily, le's step!' An' two mont's lateh we was married. An' awl cause'a Joe bein' onna WPA." "Don't Roosevelt weah'ra bow tie?" interjects Alice. "Well, he's diff'nt," shrugs Sally. "Roosevelt don' hangaroun' Roselan', an' if he did he wouldn' weah no bow tie." "You take ya pill t'day?" inquires Alice. "What?" "I hate politics.")

American armored forces crashed thru bitter German resistance along Italy's west coast highway yesterday, and drove forward more than seven miles to within seven miles of Livorno, it was reported in a communique. Other Allied columns were on the move northward along a broad front stretching more than a hundred miles inland, shelling and bayoneting fanatical German rear guards from their makeshift defenses below Siena and in the hills around Perugia. Allied headquarters noted that the number of enemy prisoners taken since the offensive began on May 11th stands now at more than 32,000 men, 25,000 of whom were captured by the 5th Army.

(Yeah, next time choose your friends more carefully.)

In Hollywood, recently-divorced boy wonder Orson Welles was ordered to pay his ex-wife $900 toward her legal fees and $100 in court costs pending resolution of a lawsuit against the actor-director charging him with failing to support his six-year-old daughter. Welles said he was willing to pay child support, but claimed that his show busines activities over the past year have lost $65,000 out of a total income of $80,000.

(If there's two names that immediately come to mind when Somerset Maugham comes up, they're Gene Kelly and Deanna Durbin. And meanwhile, Jinx only gets fourth billing? You need a better agent, hon.)

Jet airplanes will bring a new era of aviation after the war. Naval architect Thomas R. Tarn declares in a special report prepared for the United Press that jet propulsion bids fair to be one of the outstanding developments to come out of the present war, and that the time is soon to come when jet-propelled aircraft will be the safest and most desirable form of travel ever known to man. "It may be," predicts Tarn, "that jet propelled airplanes will be developed for passenger and cargo use along the same line that trucks and trailers have been developed for the highway service and locomotives and cars have been developed for railroad transportation."

("Well, maybe it'd help instead of trying to sell you in one piece we coud cut you up into 25-cent stamps.")

The 65-year-old son of the late Dodger owner Charles H. Ebbets cut off his own children without a cent in his will, filed for probate yesterday in Manhattan. Charles H. Ebbets Jr, who died in a Manhattan rooming house on May 15th left an estate valued at "over $10,000," with two-thirds of that estate left to his housekeepeer, Mrs. Henrietta Darling Sherwood of East Orange, New York, and the remaining third to his wife. The three children of that marriage, Charles H. Ebbets III of Los Angeles, Mrs. Virginia Ebbets Ruth of Southampton, and Mrs. Dorothy Dolimetye of Everett, Washington, received nothing.

(SIGMUND JAKUCKI! SIGMUND JAKUCKI! SIGMUND JAKUCKI!)

(I'm sorry, but especially at this point in history the world is going to have a lot more need for skilled surgeons than it will ever need cut-rate H. P. Lovecrafts.)

(I would read the hell out of a spin-off strip featuring 'S. Dardanella, Private Eye.'")

(Wheels within Wheels. Wait, this isn't harness racing.)

(Brace up, kid. Somewhere out there there's a second-rate vaudeville magician about to give up his career.)

"Hey as long as we're here, what say we steal a couple of chickens?"

 

[LizzieMaine]

"Myyyyyyyyy public!"

C'mon, Tom -- you shoulda picked Clare for your running mate. You know you wanted to.

Yeah, I've got a lot of these.

Snipe and Gootch? Yes please! And poor old Wumple, having to listen to Wilmer. Mr. Wicker, the handle-bar moustache guy offering Sissy Bly a cigar, is Walt's boss at the Wicker Furniture Company. And Madame Octave is Skeezix's biological mother who left him on Walt's doorstep when he was two days old. I'm sure she DOES worry. Trixie, of course, was once the wiry little tomboy who gave Skeez his first kiss. And finally, "I hope your marriage isn't on the rocks yet, Jessica." HA!

CHARGE MANSLAUGHTER IN FILM BLAST

Lizards? More like ALLIGATORS!

I bet the Covina Pharmacy handles a lot of insulin.

Y'know, I've been trying to think of who clean-shaven Willie reminds me of, and I just realized who it is -- an overweight cigar-smoking Gandhi. Now that'd be an interesting storyline.

Careful, kid -- home bleach jobs sometimes end up bright orange.

This is the greatest metaphor for "human resources" I've ever seen.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And also...

Yeah, but how much for Berle?

 

[LizzieMaine]

("We got ev'ryt'ing ready f' Willie t'move in afteh school t'day," enthuses Alice. "Y'otta see t'room Siddy fixed up f'rim. Ev'ryt'ing a kid could want. An' y'know what he done? He wan'ed t'get 'im a bicycle, right? An' wit' t'wawr on, I meann y'jus' can't go oveh t' Davega, right? So Siddy wen' aroun'a neighbehood, wen' aroun' awla alleys an' vacan' lawts, an'nee dug aroun' innat pile a junk downa basemen', an'nee foun' enough diffren' pawrts an'nee BUILT a bicycle. How 'BOUT t'at!" "Ain'nat sump'n." nods Sally. "Hey," she continues, "I was gonna ask ya -- what was awlat yellin' down inna coehtyawrd las' night? 'Bout nine a'clock t'eh, I hoid awlis yellin', but by t'time I got aroun' t'windeh, I couldn' see nut'n." "Oh," shrugs Alice. "Yeh, t'at was Siddy. He was testin' out t'bicycle, right? An'nee was so excited about it, he f'got sump'n." "Ah," nods Sally. "Yeh," chuckles Alice. "F'gawt he didn' know HOW t' ride a bike!")

U. S. Marines and Army troops, holding full control of the southern half of Saipan, struck northward along the western shore today toward Tanapag Harbor, while other units continued their assaults on bypassed Garapan, capital of the Marianas. The new drives followed the elimination of a stubborn pocket of Japanese resistance at Nafutan Point on the southern tip of Saipan, where it was estimated that the enemy lost from 500 to 1500 killed and captured in 13 days of bitter hand to hand fighting. Admiral Chester W. Nimitz said the invasion troops completely occupied the point after the Japanese tried every trick to escape from the trap seven miles behind their own lines.

("This Rupolo man lives two blocks ovarr fr'm Sally," fumes Ma. "Me daaaghter an' grandaaghter livin' two blocks fr'm a voilent hoodlum! An' now me grandson too! Ain't thar noothin' YOU can do?" "You know Oi gaaht noo influence with that boonch," sighs Uncle Frank. "You know Oi've lived as laaang as Oi have by naaaht gett'n mixed oop in th' affairs a' th' loikes a' them. Oi leave thim alone, they leave me alone. Annn', Oi moit add, they leave YOU alone." "Oi don't know what this waaarld is coomin' to," Ma growls, snapping her cleaning rag for emphasis. "Oi don't s'pose ye could foind 'em anoothar place t'live away fr'm sich naaahnsense." "We been ovarr that," Uncle Frank exhales. "Thar's a waaar on. Thar's waitin' lists farr apartments aah oovar town, ye gaaht t'deal with th' OPA, an' when ye do foind one it's a waarse hole than th' woon ye troyin' t'get oot of. Besoides, she's got Alice lookin' after'arr ovar there, an' that Krause fellar. Oi'd not warry soo mooch." "Soomthin's gaaht t'be done," insists Ma. "Maybe ye could poot th' boys in an apaartment near tharr, an' they could..." "Aahr," suggests Uncle Frank, "noow that ye mention it, Doyle was tellin' me 'boot an apaartment doon here ahn Midwood Street. Roit close by here, even. Sally could be in t'visit ye ahhl th' toime." "Yarr a foony man, Francis Leary," scowls Ma. "A foony, foony man...")

General Dwight D. Eisenhower, "Ike" to his friends, is "a hell of a nice guy," according to a Navy ensign aboard the destroyer that twice carried the Supreme Allied Commander to France. Intimate friends of the general agree, noting that Eisenhower finds the prosepct of fame and greatness, which must follow when Hitler falls, extremely discomfiting. They add that the general is disturbed by the realization that he can no longer walk down the street without attracting attention or enter a restaurant without creating a furore.

In Omaha, Nebraska the proprietor of a chimney-cleaning service takes pleasure in knowing he has a staff that it is absolutely draft-proof. Bob Eli, of the firm of Eli and Eli, has three baboons working as his assistants, and one of the apes, also named "Eli", is actually his partner in the company. The baboons are particularly skilled at cleaning inside small ventilation shafts where a man could not fit, and while the two younger apes working for the company, Patchy and Bobo, do tend to goldbrick on the job, Eli -- the baboon, not the man -- is very firm about keeping them in line.

(What did Deanna Durbin ever do to Arthur Pollock???)

(No wonder these old guys don't want to go overseas.)

("You can't just release him, sir!" protests Mr. Parrott. "Remember when you got rid of Fitzsimmons?" "I shall trade him then," insists Mr. Rickey. "No doubt a rising squad such as the Browns would appreciate the experience and shrewd understanding of a man like Wyatt. And perhaps the addition of -- oh -- Mr. Jakucki would bolster our rotation!" "They'd never do it," wails Mr. Parrott. "Besides, you'd have to ask waivers to send him to the other league and he'd be humiliated! You can't take a man who's done as much for this club as Wyatt and just toss him on the..." "We shall offer him a Day," declares Mr. Rickey, rubbing his hands with excitement. "Whitlow Wyatt Day! Do you still have that file you prepared for that day we discussed for....who was that again?" "Camilli, sir," frowns Mr. Parrott. "And you remember how..." "Excellent, my boy, excellent!" thunders Mr. Rickey, his vast brows twitching with glee. "Bring that file at once. Scratch out 'Camilli' and write in 'Wyatt.' And contact Mr. Barnes in St. Louis, have him arrange for M.r. Jakcuki's transportation." "Send him express prepaid.," sighs Mr. Parrott. "What's that, boy?" "Nothing....")

(Well, that's one way to end it.)

(Aren't we just FULL of happy endings today!)

(If they call you "Honest Tom" around a racetrack...)

(Point of order: I wonder what you'd see if you looked down from above? Doesn't bear thinking about, does it?)

(A cop -- stealing chickens? Staten Island really IS a hotbed of vice.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

I don't know what's more hilarious here, the idea that Tom Dewey married a quiet little homebody who appeared in "George White's Scandals," or that the News makes you read fifteen paragraphs in before they toss out that fact. C'mon, this is Page Four, not Scribner's Monthly.

"We like his wife though, she's Equity!"

Doctor Zee? You mean the one-armed guy from "Orphan Annie?" He's a NAZI SPY now???? Didn't see THAT coming!

"Um, I forgot my line." "ARF. The line is ARF." "Oh, sorry."

"OH NO NOT DEAR UNCLE BIM! Where do we stand in the will?"

"Well, I was hoping you'd get used to them. You know, there's a housing shortage."

It's good to have friends.

Aside from the plot, how many six year olds do you know who can get away with a black undershirt, pajama bottoms, and a derby?

Although, I must say, a bathrobe, slippers, and a pom-pom beanie aren't a look you often see on Main Street either.

Yeah, that's it.

 

[Fading Fast]

"Um, I forgot my line." "ARF. The line is ARF." "Oh, sorry." LOL

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

"Although, I must say, a bathrobe, slippers, and a pom-pom beanie aren't a look you often see on Main Street either."

Shadow is one of the oddest characters in all of our strips.

 

[Madhouse27]

First bit of happiness in recent memory and Barry had to walk under that ladder…

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Alice says Willie didn't wanna go t'bed las' night he was so excited wit' movin' in oveh t'eh," declares Sally. "Said 'e was runnin' awl oveh t'place, playin' wit' Krause. I wen' down'eh t'is mawrnin' t'meet Alice f'woik, an' him' an Krause was playin' some kinda game wit' cereal. Willie was pilin' up oatmeal awn toppa Krause's head like it was a wig a' sump'n, an'ney was bot' laughin' so hawrd t'ey toined awl red inna face. Alice says she didn't know t'eh was t'at much t'bein' a mot'eh." "She'll soon foind out," chuckles Ma. "That boy is a haaandfool." "Him an' Leonoreh get alawng pretty good," observes Sally. "Neveh t'ought t'ey would, remembeh when he fois' come heeh, he wouldn't tawk t'nobody, pushed Leonoreh offa t'stool, n'awlat?" "Mistarr Krause was th' farrrst one got thru to the boy," nods Ma. "Oi don't know how he done it." "I eveh tell ya?" continues Sally. "Alice says Krause had a baby once -- well, his fois' wife done. When'nee come home fr'm t' las' wawr. T'ey was jus' kids t'emselves, an' she -- well, she died in chil'boit', an'na baby died too. Alice says he neveh got oveh t'at, 'leas' not till, you know, lately." "Oi think William'll be happy thaar," nods Ma. "Of course, aahfter th' waaar, when Michael cooms home, we'll hafta..." "Tellya sump'n else funny t'at happn't," interrupts Sally, not wanting to open that particular container of worms. "I'm down'eh, right? An' Willie says, 'where's Leonoreh?' An' I say 'I took her oveh t' see 'Gran'ma be'foeh I come heeh.' An' Willie says 'good! Maybe she can play slot machine wit' Gran'ma stead'a me!" Ma blanches, and compreses her grip on her cleaning rag. She forces a smile. "Isn't that fonny," she ventures, from between clenched teeth. "Yeh," laughs Sally. "He don' say it right, t'name'a t'at game t'ey play. You know, 'bout t'monsteh. It ain' 'slot machine,' it's 'slommasheen!' Heh! Kid mus' be so excited 'es gettin' awl mixed up!" "Oh," ohs Ma, trying not to exhale too conspicuously...)

FInland's war-weary population of 3,900,000 faces the consequences of certain military defeat with the knowledge that their last influential friend, the United States, has placed their country on the diplomatic blacklist. Overrun with German troops and denounced as a willing puppet of Nazi Germany FInland stands now without the friendship of the United States since the Finnish Republic was first established 25 years ago. Secretary of State Cordell Hull yesterday made official the severance of diplomatic relations between the US and the Helsinki government, opening the door to a possible declaration of war. Senate Foreign Relations Committee Chairman Tom Connolly (D-Texas) summed up the Congressional view of the situation when he noted "the United States stood at the bedside when Finland was born -- she is now committing suicide." The severance of diplomatic ties between the two nations followed the declaration from Helsinki on June 17th that Finland and Germany have joined in the "comradeship of arms."

(Agreed.)

(Today's panel comes to you thru the courtesy of the Office of War Information.)

("All is not well between Whitlow Wyatt and that Dodger manager." Maybe that's who wrote 'Remember Bobo Newsom' on the clubhouse wall.)

(Benny Goodman -- working for Disney? Since when does he lead a 'Mickey Mouse band?")

("Dr. Ward's man!" "You mean her husband?" "Oh, are they married? I thought he was her butler!")

(All right, that's over. Time for Oakdale to show up!)

(HEY! CAREFUL! You can't get binoculars anymore!)

(Is the cup half empty or half full?)

(ERADICATE STATEN ISLAND MAD DOG MENACE)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

Cary Grant and Barbara Hutton. Well, they're no Gable & Lombard.

Come now, Commissioner. You used to be so incorruptible.

"Being a money-head is a career in itself."

Sure beats that haystack, huh?

YOU'VE MET YOUR MATCH KID!

Noooooooooooooooooooo

Plus it's July, and nobody smells very good in July.

"There's only one thing to do. Call a stockbroker."

The syndicate's been nagging Mr. Gould about deadlines again.

 

[Fading Fast]

"Cary Grant and Barbara Hutton. Well, they're no Gable & Lombard."

But Grant and Hutton did have, possibly, the greatest married-coupled nickname of all time in "Cash and Carry."

 

[LizzieMaine]

("I dunno," shrugs Sally from her position on Dr. Levine's couch. "It seems like it awl happn'ta somebody else." "Ah," ahs Dr. Levine, her pencil skimming across her notebook. "You awrways say t'at," frowns Sally. "'Ah.' Whassat s'posta mean?" "Ah,:" nods Dr. Levine. "Please, continue." "Well, like I was sayin'," resumes Sally, "it awl seems like it happn'ta somebody else. T'hospital, y'know? I got a letteh fr'm Joe yestehday, an' -- well, he didn't even say nut'n about it. Oh, I mean he said he was glad I was out, but he didn' say nut'n else 'bout what happn't. I wen' backta woik, an' 'cept f' one joik nobody said nut'n about it. Even Ma, who's awrways got sump'n t'say about ev'ryt'ing I do, ain' got nut'n t'say about it. But I lay t'eh at night, an' I remembeh what happn't an' -- well, I dunno what t't'ink. Izzit t'is medicine y'givin' me a' what?" "Ah," ahs Dr. Levine. "Ain' you got nut'n t'say t'at ain' AH?" snaps Sally. "Is there," ventures Dr. Levine, "something you think I *should* say?" "Tell me," eyerolls Sally, "ya glad I'm feelin' betteh. Tell me y't'ink I'm doin' awright! Tell me WHY I DONE WHAT I DONE!" "Let's go back to this letter from Joe for a moment," replies Dr. Levine, her tone inscrutable. "What else did he have to say?" "Nut'n really," sighs Sally. "Jus' t'at he's gonna be done wit' Cooks 'n Bakehs school nex' week an'nen 'neh shippin' 'im t' Camp Kilmeh f'reassignment. He t'inks he'll be t'eh f'ra week an'nen he'll -- ship out." "And how do you feel about that?" queries Dr. Levine. "Ho'wm I s'posta feel?" retorts Sally. "T'ezza wawr on. He's inna Awrmy. He goes wheh t'ey tell 'im t'go. I got no say. I got no say at awll. I got no say about nut'n." "And," challenges Dr. Levine, "how does that make you feel?" Sally is quiet for a long moment. "Rotten," she finally replies. "An' mad. Real mad. An' rotten. Rotten about bein' rotten, an' rotten about -- bein' mad." "Ah," ahs Dr. Levine.)

Tired and dirty Marines and Army troops carrying out the bloody business of wiping out stubborn Japanese fighters on Saipan made small gains yesterday, eliminating several pockets of resistance, while American planes, possibly from Isley Field, and surface naval units continued to pound Japanese gun positions on nearby Tinian Island. A communique from the headquarters of Admiral Chester Nimitz reported that soldiers and Marines fighting in the sultry tropical heat made consolidations in their positions and small gains in the central sector. Japanese troops have secreted themselves inside caves in the rugged Mt. Topachau area, requiring American forces to blast them out of each individual hole as they press forward.

(Wow, this Jerry Giesler really gets around.)

A New York state law requiring equal pay for equal work for women went into effect yesterday, protecting the rights of more than a million women working in state industry. State Industrial Commissioner Edward Corsi explained that the law is intended "to assure that where women replace men in a specific job where the duties and responsibilities are unchanged, the same rates of pay shall be applicable." Commissioner Corsi further noted that employers cannot claim that they are unable to raise the wages of women workers to meet the level previously paid to men by appealing to national wage stabilization laws, stressing that the National Labor Relations Board allows such increases without a hearing, unless price ceilings are involved. The Commissioner warned that employers are forbidden to establish two different classifications for the same job if the only difference is the sex of the worker. For example, the positions of "Man Stenographer" and "Woman Stenographer" cannot legally exist under the new law -- there can only be the single classification, and single pay rate, of "Stenographer." The only exemptions under the law are domestic servants working in private homes, farm laborers, and persons employed at non-profit organizations operated exclusively for religious, charitable, scientific, or educational purposes.

("I wish Sal would hurry up," declares Alice, standing next to a large poster advertising the appearance today at Ebbets Field of Satchel Paige and the Kansas City Monarchs. She scans the crowd milling in the Marble Rotunda, as her husband pauses to sign a petition to End Jim Crow in Baseball. "Yeh," agrees Krause, holding Willie by the hand as the boy sniffs the damp and pungent atmosphere for a hint of frankfurters. "Y'know," shrugs Alice, "wasn' lawng ago, Sal would be t'one heeh wit' t'em petitions. She ain' done none'a t'at since Joe got drafted. I remembeh when we useta run aroun' afteh Rickey -- hey, r'membeh t'at time we had you dress up as a process soiveh an' try t'sneak us in his awffice downtown 'neh? An' you showed up wit' t'at Woil's Faieh tie on? Heh!" Krause looks at his feet and mutters "Yeh." "I eveh tell ya," ventures Alice, "t'at's me fav'rite tie. Um, I wisht you was weahrin' it now." "Yeh," grins Krause.)

Stan Musial of the Cardinals and Dodger Dixie Walker are waging one of the hottest batting duels in National League history as the midpoint of the 1944 campaign approaches. Weekly averages released today show Musial leading Walker by a margin of .001, fattening his average this week to .379 over Dixie's .378. Walker has batted over the .400 mark for a good part of the season so far, but he has been dropping points lately. His average dropped seven points this week, while Musial's rose by six. The Dodgers continue to lead the senior circuit in team batting average, with Brooklyn hitting at a solid .280 clip.

(And they didn't even give him a shot of whisky first.)

(If this strip were really true to the established lore of the Schlesingerverse, this would be Bugs dropping an awning on a cartoon Hermann Goering.)

(Once again, bear in mind that Phil Fumble is a personal avatar for Ernie Bushmiller.)

(What, nothing about Fillmore and bathtubs?)

(Point of order: if you KNOW you're an amnesia victim, are you REALLY an amnesia victim?)

(Secret recordings of phone calls??? THAT'LL NEVER CATCH ON!)

(A reporter trapped in a sinkhole! WHAT A STORY!)

 

[LizzieMaine]

Travel restrictions? What's that?

"He aimed for the stars, and often hit London."

Pro tip, gals -- fill your washing machine with ice to keep the drinks cold.

Mr. Gould had to devote considerable thought to this. Considerable thought.

That OSS is really something.

Don't trust him! Don't you know that in underground kingdoms ruled by imperious queens the Grand Vizier is ALWAYS EVIL?

I'd like to know who W. D. Chrisman really is, and how much Mr. Willard owes him.

"WHAT??? I, the Dragon Lady, do a guest shot in 'Smilin' Jack'? HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Sorry, Nert -- Avery's had this racket sewn up for years. And it's a pity Shadow probably won't live long enough to try Ritalin.

Um, there are no gorillas in India. Unless they signed up Gargantua for a USO tour.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And also...

"Whooooooooooo," whistles Sally. "I neveh see nut'n like t'is guy." "Downamiddle!" marvels Leonora.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Hmph," hmphs Uncle Frank. "Sootar Avenarr. Maara that Broownsville trash. Strictly amatchoors." "Oi don't loike it," grumbles Ma. "Ye said the heat was aaaahff." "And soo it is," declares Uncle Frank. "Doyle says we're oopta date on our arrangements, an noobody's gonna baaather us." "They baaathered these people on Sootar Avenarr," protests Ma. "Sootar Avenarr is a laaang ways froom us," scoffs Uncle Frank. "Moiles away. A whoole diff'rent precinct." "Ye'll be sayin' that," grumbles Ma, "th' day th' bloody bluecoats knock me door down." "Oi trust Doyle," affirms Uncle Frank. "He's a Kilkenny lad, did'je know thaat? A Kilkenny lad same as me. Oi troost 'im t'live oop t' his agreements. A Kilkenny man would do no less." "Bahhhh," returns Ma, snapping her cleaning rag for emphasis. "Ye ever heara th' Kilkenny Cats?" "Yarrr fr'm Donegal," snickers Uncle Frank, as he drains his glass. "Ye wouldn' undarstaaand.")

Former screen star Helen Gahagan Douglas, statuesque brunette who won a Congressional primary in California, is expected to serve as a Democratic Party answer to Rep. Clare Boothe Luce (R-Connecticut) at the upcoming Democratic National Convention in Chicago. Mrs. Douglas is scheduled to deliver a major speech at the convention, which opens on July 19th.

(KIDS TODAY)

Mayor LaGuardia's proposal for a new transportation tax as one of three possible options for solving the defecit facing the city transit lines is causing the city to buzz today, following the outline offered by the Mayor during yesterday's radio broadcast over WNYC. The Mayor's plan would add a 2 to 2 1/2 percent levy on rents, 1 percent on mortgage interest, and 40 cents per week out of all wages earned by persons working in the city but living outside it. The Mayor projects that, by raising an estimated $51,700,000 per year, the new tax would allow the city to retain the five-cent subway fare. Raising the fare to a dime, the Mayor estimates, would bring in an additional $125,000,000 per year, while the third option -- doing nothing -- would serve only to further increase the burden on real-estate taxpayers. Joseph Goldsmith of the Taxpayer's Union was quick to voice his opposition to any of the Mayor's three proposals, arguing instead that increasing the fare to seven cents would bring in sufficient funds to meet the defecit without increasing other tax burdens.

(Yes, there was a time when William Bendix was a serious actor who could do Eugene O'Neill and be praised for it -- and this is that time.)

(Mrs. Lichty says "YOU'RE NO PRIZE PACKAGE YOURSELF.")

("I shall attend these games tomorrow," declares Mr. Rickey. "Make the necessary arrangements." "What arrangements?" shrugs Mr. Parrot. "You've got the keys to the place in your pocket." "Ah yes," nods Mr. Rickey, patting his vest. "Yes, I shall attend these games tomorrow. There will be much talent on display, my boy, much interesting talent." "Too bad we can't sign any of it," mutters Mr. Parrott. "I mean -- you know..." "Ah," nods Mr. Rickey, his face clouding. "Yes. Most unfortunate, this status quo. Most unfortunate.")

Fourteen thousand fans turned out yesterday to see the legendary Negro pitching star Satchel Paige, and while Paige put on an outstanding show, his efforts were insufficient to keep his Kansas City Monarchs from going down in defeat before the New York Cubans in 11 innings at Ebbets Field. It was Paige's first performance on the Flatbush mound, and by rights he should have won the game with a sparkling 2-0 shutout. But shaky fielding allowed the Cubans to score unearned runs in the fifth and ninth, before pushing across their lone earned run in the bottom of the 11th to win the game. Paige struck out fifteen men and walked four, but three of those passes were intentional.

("ANSWER ME ONE QUESTION -- IS THAT LITTLE TART WITH YOU?")

("Tootsie sent me.")

(Racetrack characters do take their work very very seriously.)

(You'd be surprised how many people only see what they want to see.)

("OH NO!" yowls Kitty. "NOT YOU AGAIN!")

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

New York's Picture Newspaper.

"Y'know, Sal," observes Alice, "He's oldeh'rn me. An'nat gal'eh, she's, what, nineteen, twenny yeehs ol'." "Hmph," hmphs Sally, glancing at the proffered page. "An' y'know what else?" snickers Alice. "When YOU was, what, eighteen yeehs ol' an' t'rowin' ya -- you knows -- onna stage t'eh? Y'know how ol' he was? I figyehed it out. He was -- T'OITY YEEHS OL'!" "T'at ain' so ol'," mutters Sally, her face flushing. "Shattup." "Anyways," continues Alice, glancing out of the corner of her eye at her writhing seat mate. "Ya too ol' f'rim now." "SHATTUP!" erupts Sally. "Heh," hehs Alice, gazing innocently at her paper.

Drowning? How crude. Punjab woulda rugged him.

The ONE TIME room service shows up quick.

"Let me think now. That vault is fifteen feet long, twenty feet wide, and eight and a half feet high. A $5000 bag of 20 dollar gold pieces is about fourteen inches long and seven inches wide and about eight inches thick..."

Well now that's a secure door.

Ha ha, another one for Bellevue.

NOONNOONZZ.

You'll never work for the Brow with poor technique like that, kid.

I wonder what Mrs. Gould was like.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And also...

And all the cash in nickels.

 

[Fading Fast]

I thought you guys would enjoy another tidbit from the supporting material in the Clover Press edition of "Terry and the Pirates."

The caption for the picture below reads:

A B-24 Liberator decorated with the Dragon Lady

(I zoomed in on the DL in the second pic below, there is only one pic in the book)