The Era -- Day By Day

[Fading Fast]

"Who's Miss Wong?" wonders Danny. "Soombody oowes me a favarr," nods Uncle Frank. "She joost doon't know it yet."

The man can see an opportunity between the cracks.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("I jus' don' get it, is awl," sighs Sally. "Well," ventures Dr. Levine, "have you considered talking to her about it?" "I ast," replies Sally. "I says to 'eh, 'Ma, whassit awla 'bout? Whass got inta you?" An' awl she does is change t'subjec'. I tell ya, Docteh, she ain' 'ehself. She's weahrin' poifume. I ast 'eh howcum, an' she says it's Fly-Ded. In Novembeh! She's worried 'bout killin' flies in Novembeh?" "How old is your mother?" queries Dr. Levine. "I dunno f'sueh," acknowledges Sally. "I dunno if she does neit'eh. She ain' gawt no boit' ce'tificate. I guess t'ezza whatcacawl baptismal rec'kid, but t'at'd be back in Ieh'lan'. Awl I know is she come'ta t'is country when she was about fifteen, an' she's been 'eeh'ra'bout foehty yeehs. She come awl by 'ehself, fifteen yeeh ol' goil comin' oveh heeh steehrage, some ship caw'lta 'Celtic' a' sump'n. C'n you 'magine'at? Awl by 'ehself wit' a coupla t'ousan' ot'eh people crammed down'eh inna bott'm'va boat. An' what's funny, she neveh tol' me why she done'at. She jus' said she done it. An'nen she gets a jawb in Pigt-- Eas' Flatbush -- doin' lawndry, 'till she met Pa, an'nen Mickey come alawng, an'nen me. But she neveh tawks much 'bout none'a t'at neit'eh. You ask 'eh, an' she clams right up. An' I dunno why. An'now awlis stuff, I mean, she's known Uncle Frank f', what, twenny-five yeehs, an'n'ot'eh night we'eh hangin' aroun'a stoeh, an' sweah t'gawd, it's like t'eh floitin'. He's lookin' at 'eh, an' she's lookin' back, an' sweah't'gawd I t'ink I hoid'eh -- giggle." "Ah," nods Dr. Levine. "Ma don't giggle," insists Sally. "Whassat mean?" Dr. Levine leans back in her chair, and searches carefully for a reply...)

Berlin said last night that Red Army assault forces have captured the great Hungarian rail hub of Hatvan, keystone of enemy offenses northeast of Budapest, and also reported 30,000 Soviet troops have landed on Cspel Island in the Danube, immediately south of the capital city. The German reports were not confirmed by Moscow, but the Soviet High Command reported that Russian tank and infantry forces had cut the vital Budapest-Hatvan railroad and highway, capturing Kerekhargzt, 21 miles northeast of capital and two miles west of Hatvan, in a four mile thrust thru enemy fortifications.

("Oi don't know," frowns Ma, regarding the cigarette pack just handed her. "That still doon't look mooch loike a camel t'me. Looks moor loike soom'koinda elk with 'is aaaarns cut oof." "Inky is still warrkin aaahn that," shrugs Uncle Frank. "It's bettar thin th' last woon. Besoides, thim that's disparrate f'ra smook ain' goona be lookin' too laaang at the packet." His eyes flick down to the sparsely-populated cigar display, where a lone White Owl sits forlornly in an otherwise empty box. "Daaan't even think ooov it," warns Ma. "Now -- what aboot matches? Garrity said he couldn't get me noo matches t'save 'is loife." "Ah," grins Uncle Frank. He fishes in his pocket and produces a handful of matchbooks. "Th' Dragon Den?" queries Ma. "Ye helped ye'self, did'jee? Well, these few ain't goin' t' do me no..." "Th' boys will be ovarr with th' troock this aftarnoon," promises Uncle Frank. "Ye woon't be waaaryin' noon aboot matches." "Is that so?" squints Ma. "An' hoo'd ye swing that?" "I merely," chuckles Uncle Frank, immensely pleased with himself, "aaasked farr Miss Wong.")

Snooky the City Hall Cat received a welcome befitting his status as a local celebrity yesterday when he reappeared following an unexplained four-week absence. Snooky, who has been a City Hall hanger-on for the past six years, loitering in Mayor LaGuardia's office, and attending meetings of the Board of Estimate, hadn't been seen since Halloween night, and after an organized search failed to locate him, the worst was feared. But around noon yesterday, Patrolman William Mahoney of the Oak Street station spotted the virile tom at the corner of Oak and Roosevelt, and brought him home. Even City Council President Newbold Morris, a man of immense dignity, joined in to welcome Snooky back with a hearty "good to see you back, old boy!" Snooky purred in acknowledgement, and immediately began wandering around City Hall to renew his many old friendships.

(In his living room at Forest Hills, Mr. Rickey sits silently in a vast leather armchair, a heavy blue cloud floating motiionlessly over head, and considers the future...)

(There's a big market out west for real estate lawyers.)

(Screwy? It's his personal brand!)

(Followers of the Wampanoag sachem Metacomet eventually burned Mr. Blackstone's house to the ground, so I suspect his sentiments were not mutual.)

(There is nothing that can save this relationship and they should probably stop trying.)

(Don't worry about the leg, they'll just put you out of your misery.)

(Don't worry, Master DeMille, one day you'll be an old bald guy in puttees.)

(Pssst, I bet he isn't even French at all.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

"I wish to state that I am very happy for Paulette, and I had nothing to do with it." -- Chas. Chaplin.

It's easy -- when you know how!

The medium really is the message.

Ehh. They already did this stunt in "Hellzapoppin'."

Job 21:7.

"Oh, and you're a sap for not going for the double indemnity."

Hey, at least she isn't Ursula Parrott.

"But why does it smell like a gas station in here?"

You know, you don't HAVE TO answer the door. And "Toggle-Switch?" "Eager-Beaver?" Zack-Mosley does love his hyphens.

Talk? Haven't we had quite enough of that already?

 

[Fading Fast]

"I wish to state that I am very happy for Paulette, and I had nothing to do with it." -- Chas. Chaplin.

"Ditto, plus the headline a touch over my picture is for another story, just so that there's no confusion." -- P. Goddard

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Oi'm joost naaaht sure," sighs Uncle Frank, leaning back in his creaky swivel chair. "Oi doon aaahlem things ye toold me, boot Oi'm joost naaaht sure." "Ya wawn'ed advice," shrugs Alice. "I give ya advice. I mean, maybe I don't know t' ol' lady 's'wellas you do, but I know Sal, an' if t'eh's one t'ing y'can say 'bout Sal, it's t'at she's 'eh mot'eh's daughteh. You try t'make'h do sump'n, she's gonna do jus' t'opposite, jus' t'prove t'pernt." "Soo what'charr sayin' is, if Oi'm gonna pr'pose marriage to Nora," ponders Uncle Frank, "An' maaark me, Oi'm naaaht sayin' that Oi am, this is whatchee caaahl purely theeeeoretical -- boot if I waas goin' to, what Oi should really do is NAAAHT pr'pose maarriage an' joos' suggest that we keep gooin' alaaang loike we have been." "Well," exhales Alice. "Lemme tell ya a stawry, K? One time me'n Sal was tawkin' bout basebawl, right? An' you know how she is about t'at guy t'ey traded, t'at Pete Coscawrawrt, right?" "Oi've haaard her mention," eyerolls Uncle Frank. "Oi gaaaht woona them poostcards she mailed oot when 'ee got traded." "Well," continues Alice, "when MacPhail quit an'nney brung in Rickey, Sal figyehed we could go aftehr'im an' make 'im get Petey back. She foun' out weh'ree lived, right? Foun' out weh'ree liked t'eat lunch, weh'ree went'a choich, awlat'at. So we stawrted dawggin'im aroun'. Awl oveh town, ev'ry weeken'. An' I got t' t'inkin' it wasn' a good idea, we was gonna get in trouble, an' I wawn'ed 'eh t'stawp. So I says to 'eh, I says, 'Great ideeh, Sal, an' y'know what we oughta do? We oughta go in disguise an' sneak up on'nim." "Ah," nods Uncle Frank. "An' whin she haaaard that, she had second thaaats, did she? Changed 'arr moind?" "No," acknowledges Alice, "we wen'na head'n done it. She, she figyehed I was tryin' to use ya psychology, an' so she wen'na head done'a 'zact opposite of what I wawn'ed 'eh t'do. Had us out t'eh crawlin' aroun' Fawres' Hills wit' fake moustaches awn. Y'see?" It jus' proves me pernt." "Ah," nods Uncle Frank. "Tell me, do ye play chess?" "'Zat t'one wit' t lit'l hawrses?" shrugs Alice. "Yeh. Misteh G loint me. We played a coupl'a games, an' I jumped so many of his men he said I was 'toyt'n bankes.' I t'ink t'at means I was jus' too good at it an'nee din' wanna play no moeh." "Ah," sighs Uncle Frank..)

Russian mountain troops stabbed to within about 25 miles of the twin Slovak strongholds of Presov and Kassa today, rolling back fierce German resistance on a 60 mile front extending across the eastern half of the Nazi protectorate from the Polish to the Hungarian borders. The Soviet drive threatened to cut one of the main railway lines linking the German armies in southern Poland, with the wavering defenders of Budapest, whose formidable strong points northeast of the Hungarian capital were already beginning to cave in under a succession of Red Army hammer blows.

("Hmph!" -- Ann Sheridan.)

("Well it worked in Algiers!")

("Ye gaaaht t'be bloody kiddin' me," scowls Ma, glaring across the counter at Shaughnessy the butcher. ""Dooon' be soo hasty," admonishes the meat man. "It's joost loike a big roond sassage, Oi'm toold." "What'chee mean yarrr toold," Ma frowns. "Ye troyin' t'sell it t'ME, an' ye ain't even troyed it yeself?" "Oi put me coostomars farrst," insists Shaughnessy. "The man supploys me says it's th' hoyest quaaality, an' Oi've noo reason to doobt 'is waard." "Hoo moocha that is meat?" challenges Ma, "an' hoo moocha that is saaaahrdoost?" "Nooo saaardooost in it," affirms Shaughnessy, "aaaahr Oi'm a Scotsman." Ma pokes suspiciously at the object proffered before her and sighs. "Wraaaapt it oop," she concedes. "Boot if Oi boite into it an' taste wooodwaaaark.." "Oondarstood," hustles Shaughnessy. "An'jee thoomb aaahf th' scale!" roars Ma. "Yes'm," sighs Shaughnessy..)

(A loss where the victor jitters is still, alas, a loss.)

The body of Commissioner of Baseball Judge Kenesaw Mountain Landis was cremated yesterday in Chicago with no ceremony and no funeral service was held in keeping with the Commissioner's stated request. A request that there be no flowers was also observed. The Commissioner's assistant Leslie O'Connor indicated that Baseball will observe no period of mourning, and the business of the major leagues will continue without interruption. No action is expected to be taken concerning the administration of the game until the Winter Meetings next month, and in the meantime, O'Connor will continue to run the affairs at the Commissioner's Office.

(Pappy Wackey will take over next year as coach of the Brooklyn Tigers.)

(Yes, Mary, Monica sleeps wearing nothing but a full face of makeup. They do things different in Chicago.)

("Business? I'm not that kind of cop, yet.")

("Aw gee, Ma, I though they were calling for Junior Tracy!")

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

There are pages you wish you hadn't read.

("Hmph. I had Metropolitan Opera stars ON MY PROGRAM." -- R. Vallee.)

Violating the confidence of the ticket booth? You'll be drummed out of the profession for this!

Hey, wasn't that in a Nancy Drew book?

OK, so some stereotypes DO have a basis in truth.

I do admire Mr. and Mrs. Stardust for framing a 6th War Loan poster for their living room. Keep 'em flying, kids!

Ew, she reproduced?

"Sure, whatever." -- Jinx.

Yeh, kid, definitely be sure you read these in sequence.

ANd not only that, he forgot the pint of cottage cheese.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And also...

Just out of curiosity, Mr. Zaccarella, how tall are you?

 

[Fading Fast]

Frank and Alice need an adult to supervise their conversations. Kidding aside, in their own way, they are becoming friends and that's not easy with their history.

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"You're welcome." -- Jinx and Pat