The Era -- Day By Day

[Fading Fast]

Solly blinks and feels his heart race. "SONUVVAB***!!" he bellows to no one in particuar. "I'M GOIN' HOME!"

Awesome!

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"You need any help?" he suggests. "Aroun'a stoeh?" Ma shoots a look across the room to where Bink Scanlan leans against the magazine rack, dog-earing a copy of "True Confessions." "Ah," she ahs, considering the complications....

If my memory serves, Joe not only knows the score of what goes on in the store, he knows not to tell Sally. He could work out fine. Separately, regarding the A&S advertisement and as someone who has worked in sales at a department store, I can't think of anyone less suited for the job than Joe. Ironically, if Bink wouldn't steal and wanted to work, she'd do fine in the job. But her till would always be "off" and the customers from her area would always be "losing" things.

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Somewhere Hu Shee is rolling her eyes for want of anything else to do.

as she listens to the muffled sound of April's head banging against the headboard from the next room.

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"Whassis one 'eeh?" queries Alice. "Salami?" "T'at's Salome," sighs Sally. "T'at's inna Bible a'sumpin', she wazza daughteh'ra some King, had a boitday pawrty an' cut awff some guy's head. I don' like t'em hokey Bible pitchehs." "Somebody awta make a pitcheh 'bout salami," shrugs Alice. "Do good right now. Anyways, t'ez'n easieh way t'd'cide - jus' craws awff awla t'eaytehs ya been t'rown outa, an'na one'at's lef' izza one you go ta!" Sally glares. Alice shrugs...

I love her.

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

Never mess with a Scot.

Agreed (super girlfriend is a Scot), but what amazes me is that this even rises to the level of petty larceny and is worthy of a judge's time and a trial. Maybe it's a lot of points, but if every coupon dispute wound up in court, there'd be no time for real trials.

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

Miss Witter sure knows how to snap an entendre.

Cute.

It really is a dumb marriage. She's jumping right past the daddy issues to the never-heard-of grandpa issues.

 

[LizzieMaine]

(On the stoop at 1762 63rd Street, Joe sits by himself looking up at a clouding late-afternoon sky, a copy of the Eagle folded on the step beside him so as not to show the gruesome photo on the front page. His gaze trails along the rows of two and three story tenements broken only by the synagogue directly across the street. A group of children down the block argue shrilly over the rules of some street game, while from the open window of the Krauses' basement apartment, a radio squawks out news. Joe fires a quid of tobacco juice onto the sidewalk, and immediately regrets it. "Rain, it looks like," comments a voice emerging from the front door. "Misteh G," nods Joe in greeting. "May I sit, Yussel?" Mr. Ginsburg requests. Joe nods assent, and Mr. Ginsburg reaches into his coat for his pipe. "Bad habit," he shrugs. "Give it up, the doctor says. But easier to say than do, eh?" "Yeh," agrees Joe, self-consciously shifting his chew to his other cheek." Mr. Ginsburg picks up the paper and shudders as he notes the photo. "Y'know," sighs Joe, "y'wondeh sometimes. Leas' I do. Why? Y'know, I mean -- why? Why d't'ings happen? Awlese t'ings t'at's happn't. Why?" "Sometimes, mine boy," shrugs Mr. G, puffing slowly at his pipe, "there is an answer, a reason we can know. But sometimes, Yussel, there is no 'why.' A thing that happens, it happens. And all you can do is -- be." Joe considers this statement, as he feels the first drops of rain begin to fall...)

(In a commandeered German schoolhouse, Sergeant Solly Pincus stands before the colonel's desk. "That's about the size of it," shrugs the officer. "Yes, you have the points to qualify for discharge, but it's too soon, much too soon to guess when that can happen. You understand there's a way the Army does these things..." "Yes sir," nods Solly, not surprised that it's all too good to be true. The colonel notes his disappointment and offers a small shrug of commisseration. "Where *is* home for you, Sergeant?" he queries. "Brooklyn, sir," declares Solly, squaring his shoulders. "You don't say," replies the Colonel. "I'm from Bay Ridge myself." "Williamsboig, sir," offers Solly. "Lennid Street." "How about those Dodgers," grins the colonel. "Secon' place!" marvels Solly. "You'll be home in time to see 'em win the pennant," promises the Colonel. "Yawr mout'," exhales Solly, "Gawd's eeh...")

("Ol' Elbie," snorts Sally. "Whatta bum he was. He gimme a C-minus onnis papeh'r I wrote f't'at dumb class. I wrote t'is whole lawng t'ing about Sacco an' Vanzetti, an'..." "Wasn'ey in vawdeville?" interrupts Alice. "I t'ink I seen'm oncet, when I was a kid, I snuck inteh t 'Keeney T'eayteh, an' seen'is act, t'ese two I-talian guys t'at boxed wit' a kangaroo. C'ept I don't t'ink it was a real kangaroo, y'know." "You done?" exhales Sally. "I seen a guy box a REAL kangaroo downta Coney Islan' oncet," continues Alice. "Kangaroo wiped'a flooeh wit'tim. You don' mess aroun' wit'ta kangaroo." "Anyways," frowns Sally, "he gimme a C-minus onnat papeh, an' says I was s'posta be writin'about'a Constitution. Shows ya what kin'a rat HE was." "I wondeh if Joe Louis could beat a kangaroo," muses Alice...)

The Postwar World.

("Handsome manly visage," preens Mr. Rickey, gazing admiringly at his distinguished reflection in his glass desktop. "That Holmes," chuckles Mr. Parrott. "Always good for a laugh!" "That will be all, Mr. Parrott." frosts Mr. Rickey. As Mr. Parrott slinks out, Mr. Rickey reaches for his intercom. "Jane Ann," he buzzes. "Would you be so kind as to bring me a mirror.")

("On the beam" = "Nice tush!")

("And tomorrow for breakfast -- pickled herring!")

(Well SOMEBODY'S gotta keep track!)

(Good thing you didn't sign a lease!)

(AMERICA'S NUMBER ONE AND TWO HERO DOGS GO INTO ACTION!)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

"Please, Mr. Bogart! It wasn't my idea! She insisted!!"

"Hmph," hmphs Ma, counting packs of chewing gum. "Francis," she continues, glancing over at Bink Scanlan, her jaw working energetically as she leans against the cigar counter perusing a two-month-old copy of "Modern Screen," "Oi been thinkin'. What woould ye think if Oi haaaared Joseph t' waaaark in th' stoor here?" Uncle Frank settles back on his stool. "Well," he shrugs. "At least th' boy doon't chew gom."

"Hey!" -- Sandy.

If you want something done right, do it yourself. If you don't care one way or another, depend on Andy Gump.

"Skeezix! Is that YOU?" "TULA!"

April's not as innocent as she looks.

Well, at least he finally stopped shaking.

Anything can happen, kids. Remember when "The Gumps" got Kate Smith?

Success in life is a long traill of avoided consequences.

These kids with their jive talk.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And finally...

You should have seen how good Satch was when he was 30.

 

[Fading Fast]

"Sometimes, mine boy," shrugs Mr. G, puffing slowly at his pipe, "there is an answer, a reason we can know. But sometimes, Yussel, there is no 'why.' A thing that happens, it happens. And all you can do is -- be." Joe considers this statement, as he feels the first drops of rain begin to fall...

Yup

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

"You done?" exhales Sally.



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

AMERICA'S NUMBER ONE AND TWO HERO DOGS GO INTO ACTION!

"Today they are."

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

"Please, Mr. Bogart! It wasn't my idea! She insisted!!"

Odd story about the society couple honeymooning in Reno as they don't tell us why they are honeymooning there or what they are doing in Reno for a honeymoon, as it doesn't seem like there is much else to do in Reno in that era but get a divorce. Being a society couple, maybe they are just scouting out lawyers and hotels for their eventual divorce.

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

April's not as innocent as she looks.

Nor, apparently, is Hu Shee as sophisticated as she looks.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Yeh, Joe, I dunno what's gonna happ'n'eeh," shrugs Mozelewski, sipping coffee in the diner opposite the Sperry plant. "T'ey let a buncha people go las' winteh, an'ney moved a bunch moeh out t' Nassau." "Not us, t'ough," injects Miss Kaplan thru a mouthful of cheesecake. "We got seniority." "I was hopin'," sighs Joe, "t'see Gillmoeh, see'f I c'n get back in but I f'got he ain' in'eeh Sattehday. Whenney sepehrated me out t'ey said I gawt foehty days t'apply f'reinstate'n, an'ney gotta take me back, but I don' wanna go to Nassau. I had awla t' Lawng Islan' Rail Road I eveh want." "I don' blame ya," nods Mozelewski. "Me, I ain' plannin' stick aroun'is jernt too lawng once it's awl oveh. In fack, me'n ya fawrteh'r'in-lawr gonna be goin' inteh business t'get'eh. Gonna open me own dress shawp -- Mozelewski's a' Brooklyn. Awl originals f'ra s'leck clientele." "I ain't gonna be 'is model," injects Miss Kaplan. "No seh, nawt me." "He tol' you t'at?" chuckles Joe. "Yeh," nods Mozelewski. "I done'im a faveh las' New Yeeh's Eve, rented 'im a dress f'ya mot'eh'r-in-lawr, an' he says 'e owes me a faveh." "He sezzat t'ev'rybody," snickers Joe. "Well, we shook han's," counters Mozelewski. "T'at counts." "I wouln' be 'is model if he gimme t'whole jernt," continues Miss Kaplan, making a face to punctuate the remark. "S'cuse me, Joe," she adds, brushing her fingers along his arm as she stands. "I gotta powdeh me nose." "Take ya time," calls Mozelewski at her retreating behind. "She's gonna be ya model, huh?" comments Joe. "I awready gawt t' dummy t'fit 'eh measuehments," shrugs Mozelewski. "Gawt it awn closeout at Davega." He takes another sip of coffee and gives Joe a careful look. "You okay?" he queries. "I mean, f'real. You okay?" "Yeh," exhales Joe. "Yeh, Moze. I'm fine." Mozelewski searches for something in his former co-workers expression, and even though he can't quite identify it, he recognizes that it's there. "Good, Joe," he nods. "T'at's good." "Yeh," sighs Joe, fingering his own cup and gazing up at the slow rotation of the ceiling fan..)

("Good riddance to bad rubbish," fumes Ma. "It's haaard e'noof t'make an haaanest livin' in this toown, 'specially with a waaar aaahn." "Oi hearr O'Dwyarrr's th' favaritte," warns Uncle Frank. "Oi'm givin six to woon," declares Ma. "An' ten t'woon LaGuardia roons anyway. Fifty t'woon aaahn th' resta th' field." "It's a bit aaaarly," frowns Uncle Frank. "A hoondred t'woon on Braaanch Rickey," continues Ma. "Coovarin' aaahl me bases." "No Durocharr?" comments Uncle Frank. "He'll be bettin'," predicts Ma. Uncle Frank chuckles and takes a swig of his two-cents-plain as the door jingles open to admit a youth in a poorly-fitting uniform. "Telegram," he announces, "for -- um -- Missus Nora K. Sweeney." "Leary now," corrects Ma. "Ya gawt proof?" challenges the boy. Ma flares her eyes and jerks her thumb at Uncle Frank, who burps his agreement. The boy hands over the yellow envelope, accepts the customary quarter, glances meaningfully at Ma, takes a bite at the rim of the coin, and satisified, makes his exit. Ma holds the envelope for a long moment and sighs. "Well," she exhales, slitting the envelope with the little metal hook she uses to cut open newspaper bundles, "this is it....")

("Hey Sarge," pipes up a corporal, going thru a stack of newly-arrived V-Discs. "Get a loada this one -- 'Baseball Medley played by Gladys Goodding at the Organ.' Th' junk they send us!" "Gimme t'at," commands Sgt. Solly Pincus. "An' it AIN'T junk!")

(Mungo has always performed his best in a warm climate. Like, for example, Havana...)

(Wait, suddenly they're in a pasture with a bull? I thought they were in a public room in the basement of the YWCA.)

(Look, if you don't go nightclubbing, you'll never make it to Page Four.)

(She's come a long way since she was an agent for some dumb orange dog.)

(Scarlet has her postwar career all lined up.)

("More gunshots!" wails Worst Dad Ever. "It's IMPOSSIBLE for a man to get a good night's sleep!")

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

The scrap metal drive just got a big donation.

Looks like Page Four is already on a postwar footing.

To make a long story short...

No doubt Phyllis will happily go along with this.

""Fortunately," says the cat, ""I made a break for it just in time..."

THAT'S Beezie? WHERE'S THE REST OF HIM??

What's that amount to, $3.50? Big spender.

Ah, the J. Hartford Oakdale defense.


EW!

Life is merely a string of lies we tell ourselves.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And also...

Look at the bright side, Mrs. Linn -- you might have lost a son, but at least you got a fin out of Jimmy Jemail.

And..

Yep.

 

[Fading Fast]

The boy hands over the yellow envelope, accepts the customary quarter, glances meaningfully at Ma, takes a bite at the rim of the coin, and satisified, makes his exit.

Perfect little detail.

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

Mungo has always performed his best in a warm climate. Like, for example, Havana...

Nice.

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

Did they accidentally repeat yesterday's?

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

She's come a long way since she was an agent for some dumb orange dog.

"You're dead to me now."

"And my fur's hue is 'sunset copper.'"

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

Looks like Page Four is already on a postwar footing.

No kidding, it was hard to keep all the divorces/romances straight.

Regarding Ms. Skinner, she went on to live to 82. The below is from IMDB's trivia section of her bio:

• Internationally known authority on fly fishing.
• Was an accomplished Broadway stage actress (having followed Celeste Holm in the role of Ado Annie in the original production of Oklahoma!).
• A graduate of the prestigious New York Academy of Dramatic Arts.
• Edna lived an openly gay lifestyle with Jean Fish, for a period of 40 years.

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What's that amount to, $3.50? Big spender.

I agree, and this is exactly why I'm suspicious of inflation calculators as they miss so much nuance and locality of pricing. I just used this one https://www.usinflationcalculator.com/ and got 50 cents is about $9 today, which makes the woman a lot better, but in NYC today, you aren't seeing a movie for $9.

 

[EngProf]

Let me suggest that if you didn't read this on the 11th, give it a go.
It sounds like an Army version of "Who's on First".
Even twenty years later my Dad would get agitated about the end-of-the-war Army demob/discharge policies.
He was in one of the units who were picked to stay on in Europe, and at the time they thought they were the lucky ones compared to the guys who were being sent to fight banzai charges in Japan.
As he explained it, the ones going to Japan stopped over in the States for refit and training, and the timing was such that just as they were getting ready to be shipped out, the Bombs were dropped.
War over!... VJ Day!!
Everyone already in the US could get a ride on the Greyhound and go home.
Even though he was perfectly safe in Europe, he was envious of the ones who got to go HOME immediately. He stayed on over there well into 1946.

 

[LizzieMaine]

Better late than never, here's today's Mary Worth. FEEL THE LOVE.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("It ain't like I wanna push Joe a' nut'n," sighs Sally. "But he says Ma offeh'd 'im a jawb inna stoeh. He's gonna be t'oity-t'ree yeehs ol' in a few weeks! Who eveh hoid'va t'oity-tree yeeh ol' soda joik?" "Well," shrugs Dr. Levine, "it would seem to me that a job like that might be just the thing for him, at least for now. A lot of men who've been thru what Joe is going thru take a long time to adjust. That he's interested in getting back to work at a job, any job, is, I would think, a good sign." "Well, yeh," acknowledges Sally, 'but I ast 'im 'I t'ought you was gonna go back t'Sperry's. You made good money inneh, an' you liked t'people y'woiked wit', an' y'was good at it. Now ya gonna make egg creams an' sell newspapehs t' neighbehood dopes? What kin'a jawb izzat f'r'a grown man, stan'in'neh wit'n apron awn , says 'Read t' Brooklyn Eagle' on it? I ask ya!" "Your mother's been doing that how long?" thrusts Dr. Levine. Sally glares at the ceiling. "T'at don' count," she scowls. "She din' have no cherce. Joe does." "And if this is his choice," contends Dr. Levine, "what then?" "He'll be boehd sick," predicts Sally. "Nut'neveh goes awn innat jernt. Well, 'cept f'tat time me'n Alice was sendin' telegrams t' Durocheh tellin' 'im 'e betteh get Petey back, an'ne gawt soeh an' sent a coupla hoods aroun' an'ney busted up t'jernt. But ot'ehr'n'at. nut'n eveh happ'ns." Dr. Levine is silent . "Sorry," she finally replies. "I --- ah -- dropped my pencil...")

("Well," wells Alice, opening her apartment door to find Uncle Frank waiting outside. One look at his face tells her the reason for his visit. "When?" she asks. "We doon't know farr sure," replies Uncle Frank, stepping inside and producing the telegram from his coat pocket. "See farr yeself." Alice scans the message. "A hawspit'l in Paris? He's prawbly made awlla noices by now." "Nevarr moind that," interrupts Uncle Frank. "Oi've been thinkin' it ahhl ovarr, an' Oi think ye bettar talk t'ye hoosband." "Siddy knows awlabout awla stuff wit' Willie's papehs," replies Alice. "He knows awlabout ev'ry't'ng." "What Oi mean is," explains Uncle Frank, "I think it would be in yaaar best int'rests t'make arrangemn'ts t'have Krause adopt th' boy. All legal like. Roit now tharr's noo fathar named ahhnn that barrth certificate we rigged oop, so Oi think if we do it roit, th' caaaaart's'll be maaar'n happy t' give th' boy a proparrr fatharr. Boot we got to move fasst, get th' papers foiled befarr Mickey gets back. It moit still take a whoile to go thru all th' red tape, boot joost havin' thim paparrs foiled will give ye soomthin marrr t'stand aaahn. Now Oi knoow a lawyarr who'll ask noo questions..." "I don't want none'a ya back alley lawyehs, Frank," insists Alice. "An' I know Siddy won't. If we'h gonna do t'is we need a real lawyeh, not some shady characteh." "Oh," ohs Uncle Frank. "That coomplicates mattars...")

("I have my misgivings concerning this promotion," rumbles Mr. Rickey. "Mr. Stern is a base prevaricator. I have tuned in, as they say, on his radio program. He asserted that Abraham Lincoln's last words were to ask after the fortunes of the Washington ball club." "Ah," ahs Mr. Parrott. "He also asserted that Thomas A. Edison became deaf after he was struck in the head by a pitched ball." "Well, sir," shrugs Mr. Parrott, "you have to admit.." "And he further asserted that the pitch was thrown by Jesse James." Mr. Parrot erupts in a raucous, nasal laugh before recovering his composure. "Indeed," frowns Mr. Rickey. "And Olsen and Johnson as well. Tell me, Mr. Parrott, are they operating a respectable newspaper or a barbarous comic supplement?" "It's hard to tell sometimes, sir," chuckles Mr. Parrott. "Hmph," hmphs Mr. Rickey...)

(Well, at least he knew enough to wear pants under those chaps...)

(Some people REALLY aren't cut out for suburbia.)

(If you think that's bad, waitll LaGuarida finds out about the pinball.)

(Mr. Stamm used to be Chester Gould's assistant. Can you tell?)

(Another interesting Zhukov fact -- Eisenhower got him hooked on Coca-Cola.)

("I only wear two of my medals. The rest I had melted down to make bullets.")

("Will we?")

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

"He began to revile Halstead." Well yeah.

Philippines the 49th State? That's the News' new crusade? What happened to the domed stadium in Flushing?

Oh. Well, never mind.

"I'll teach her not to give me a cookie when I want one!"

All right, YOU think of a better way to cure sciatica!

Isn't it inspiring how all those dogs have gathered to sit a vigil? And if we're going to have Two Fisted Action Hero Bim Gump, I am all for it.

Life's a masquerade, and we are all the costumes we choose to wear. And here's hoping Sgt. Bunny there doesn't go on any plane rides.

There's a point where everyone has had just about enough of the latest novelty song.

I hope eventually somebody asks the kid what HE wants to do.

Today you are a man...

 

[LizzieMaine]

And also...

BOOM!

 

[Fading Fast]

If we'h gonna do t'is we need a real lawyeh, not some shady characteh." "Oh," ohs Uncle Frank. "That coomplicates mattars..."

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

"I only wear two of my medals. The rest I had melted down to make bullets."

I'd believe it. The Russian people have endured endless suffering stoically.

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

"He began to revile Halstead." Well yeah.

"The shooting followed a date kept by Halstead and Mrs. Williams, who believed her husband to be on duty at the time."

Then we get the cherry on the Isabelle sundae - this is her second marriage and her daughter from the first marriage is with the father. With this new 1945 entry, she's got quite a busy little "romance" resume for a 25-year-old.

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

Today you are a man...

"So are you saying that time I stood in line in Hawaii before we shipped out and I paid $3 to, well never mind, but I thought that counted. The guys said it counted."

If you squint, you can almost make out Hotshot toward the front of the line.