The Era -- Day By Day

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

He waived all claims to her fortune? He's a PHONY phony count!

Everyone in his unit knows to steer clear of Sergeant Solly Pincus...

DID YOU KNOW -- Measles used to be a discus thrower!

"Oh, we'll have plenty of time to uncomfortably avoid this subject..."

"Oh well. Back to work, I guess. Got to figure out why the water tastes so funny lately..."

If memory serves, it was mentioned that Beezie served in the CBI. I wonder if he ever ran into Hu Shee?

Well they are! Shut up!

Don't worry, knobhead, you'll get your lumps soon enough.

Sleep well.

Wait'll you see her at the top of the card at St. Nicholas Arena.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And also...

"I'll jolly well marry who I please!" -- Lilibet.

 

[Fading Fast]

"Me'n Siddy gonna go inneh," declares Alice, "an' tell -- um, t'trut'. Leas' t'' trut' like it says onna papehs t'eh." "Oi wish ye'd let me get'chee a lawyarrr, an' leave this man Saaaahloman aloon. Oi think ye'd get maaaaar ooot'v it, if ye'd let me..." "T' las' time I let'choo get me a lawyeh," declares Alice, fixing Uncle Frank in a deadly glare, "awl I gawt was five yeehs." "Ah," sighs Uncle Frank...

I don't know, Alice has a good point about Frank's lawyer, but Frank has a good point about Solomon as, my guess, he's the type of man who will quickly find the loose thread in Alice's story. Some people are very good at that, and I'd bet Solomon is one of them. The whole things makes me nervous.

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Incidentally, this book is presently among several stacked on my nightstand. A fun, jaunty look at the life and times of a ball club from the beginnings in the 1880s up to 1944. Oh, and good work for A&S getting Sukey out to do a personal appearance. He won't say much unless you ask him directly, but he's well worth asking.

For those interested, there are copies on used book sites in "very good" condition for about $25. (And that was with just a cursory search.)

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"No," concedes Ma, "we doon't yet knoo when 'ee's comin', boot he is." "Wondeh if 'e's loint 'is lesson," frowns Joe. "An' what kin'a fawt'eh is'ee gonna be f'Willie when 'e DOES get back?" "Ah," ahs Ma, realizing that certain things have transpired since Joe went overseas that now require an explanation. She twists her dish rag nervously, takes a deep breath, and, Joe's eyes widening with every word, unwinds the story of Hops Gaffney and Marie Belasco's attempt at extortion, and Uncle Frank and the altered birth certificate. When she finishes, Joe is silent for a long moment. "Well," he shrugs, "if he AIN'T loint 'is lesson yet, he will now...."

I tell ya, I don't like any of it. It all makes me nervous.

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He waived all claims to her fortune? He's a PHONY phony count!

Good one, Lizzie. That said, this sounds like a very "incomplete" story. If Page Four does its legwork, more will come out.

Frank's got to be keeping a close eye on the fake-coupon family-biz story. That's a heck of a family picture. I bet their neighbors are following this one closely: "They seemed like such a nice family." "They did always seem to have money for whatever they needed once the war started." "I never liked the father, but she was always so nice." "My kids loved eating over there - said they had all the food you could want."

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

"Oh, we'll have plenty of time to uncomfortably avoid this subject..."

You can always sell it.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("What izzit makes a kid do sump'n like t'at?" sighs Sally. "Sett'n fiehs is bad 'nough, but in a sem'nary?" "Dinc'hoo get in trouble once," observes Alice, 'f'writin' 'bout t'at Socko an' Lazzeri onna side'va choich?" "How'djoo know about t'at?" snaps Sally. "T'at cawp oveh'r'in Flatbush tol' me oncet," explains Alice. "You know, t'at one hangs aroun' witcha Uncle Frank. Doyle. He said he wazza one arrested'ja." "He didn' arres' me," frowns Sally. "He took me by t'han' an' led me backta t'stoeh an' gimme t' Ma. An' she gimme a lickin'. BUT HE DIN' ARREST ME!" "Ah," ahs Alice. "I musta gawt mixed up. He musta said he arrested'ja afteh ya t'rew ya step-ins at Rudy Vallee." "T"AT WASN' DOYLE!" erupts Sally. "T'at was, I dunno, some ot'eh cawp. An' I DIN' GET ARRESTED. T'ey lemee awf witt'a wawrnin'. An' besides, t'em wasn' even mine, t'ey was Mildred McCullough's. T'ey gawt mixed up inna lawndry a'sump'n." Alice rolls her eyes and attempts to repress a chuckle as the train rolls on toward home....)

(In a Paris military hospital, an Army doctor concludes his examination. "There's nothing wrong with you plenty of rest and good food won't cure," nods the doctor. "You'll get plenty of those on the ship home. Good luck, Private Sweeney." "Heh," chuckles Mickey. "I neveh been one t'coun' awn luck...")

("Well look who's eeh," calls a gravelly voice as the door jingles open. Joe looks up from his copy of "Captain Marvel Adventures" to see Sergeant Doyle striding up to the counter. "Hel-lo, Joe," he enunciates slowly and precisely. "Howww--awr---you---do-in'? Is ev'--ry--t'ing--aw--right?" "Huh?" huhs Joe. "T' Ol--La--dy-should--a--lef--ta--en--ve--lope--fa--me. Do--you--have--a--en-ve-lope?" "Yeh," scowls Joe, pulling a white envelope out from under the counter and tossing it before the policeman, who quickly flips it open and riffles the stack of bills inside. "T'at's--good--Joe," Doyle enunciates. "Ya--done--a--real--good--jawb." "I'm--glaaaad," replies Joe, flaring his eyes. "I--awr-ways-waaan-a--do--a--good--jawb." "Yaaaar-aa-goood-boy," grins Doyle, pocketing a Milky Way and chuckling oujt the door...)

(Don't forget, we won nine straight in '40 and finished second.)

("That's rIght,"smirks Mr. Benny. "They DID love me in St. Joe. Sing, Dennis...")

(NO FOOL LIKE AN OLD FOOL)

(What, no neon sign?)

(YOU KNOW REAL POLICE DOGS GET PAID)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

Love conquers all, eh Syl?

Hey Frankie, you can still catch up if you try.

Reading between the lines, Grandfather Clock has had it up to here with farming.

Well now I wouldn't say that...

You know, there are safer hobbies.

Oh, Min.

What's he gonna do for an act??? Eat?

Miss Mahoney is bucking for Jane Arden's job.

"I've got class I ain't even USED yet!"

Emmy's smirk in panel two is terrifying.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And finally...

Mom and Dad don't believe a word of this.

 

[Fading Fast]

"What izzit makes a kid do sump'n like t'at?" sighs Sally. "Sett'n fiehs is bad 'nough, but in a sem'nary?" "Dinc'hoo get in trouble once," observes Alice, 'f'writin' 'bout t'at Socko an' Lazzeri onna side'va choich?" "How'djoo know about t'at?" snaps Sally. "T'at cawp oveh'r'in Flatbush tol' me oncet," explains Alice. "You know, t'at one hangs aroun' witcha Uncle Frank. Doyle. He said he wazza one arrested'ja." "He didn' arres' me," frowns Sally. "He took me by t'han' an' led me backta t'stoeh an' gimme t' Ma. An' she gimme a lickin'. BUT HE DIN' ARREST ME!" "Ah," ahs Alice. "I musta gawt mixed up. He musta said he arrested'ja afteh ya t'rew ya step-ins at Rudy Vallee." "T"AT WASN' DOYLE!" erupts Sally. "T'at was, I dunno, some ot'eh cawp. An' I DIN' GET ARRESTED. T'ey lemee awf witt'a wawrnin'. An' besides, t'em wasn' even mine, t'ey was Mildred McCullough's. T'ey gawt mixed up inna lawndry a'sump'n." Alice rolls her eyes and attempts to repress a chuckle as the train rolls on toward home....

The things we tell ourselves about ourselves just to get through the day.

Oh, and God luv ya, Alice.

I don't know what's worse: ripping off your step-ins in a moment of, umm, "emotional frenzy" and throwing them on the stage with all that implies, or having the forethought to bring a pair with you so that you can then throw them on the stage. I'm sure Dr. Levine would have an opinion on that.

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"Well look who's eeh," calls a gravelly voice as the door jingles open. Joe looks up from his copy of "Captain Marvel Adventures" to see Sergeant Doyle striding up to the counter. "Hel-lo, Joe," he enunciates slowly and precisely. "Howww--awr---you---do-in'? Is ev'--ry--t'ing--aw--right?" "Huh?" huhs Joe. "T' Ol--La--dy-should--a--lef--ta--en--ve--lope--fa--me. Do--you--have--a--en-ve-lope?" "Yeh," scowls Joe, pulling a white envelope out from under the counter and tossing it before the policeman, who quickly flips it open and riffles the stack of bills inside. "T'at's--good--Joe," Doyle enunciates. "Ya--done--a--real--good--jawb." "I'm--glaaaad," replies Joe, flaring his eyes. "I--awr-ways-waaan-a--do--a--good--jawb." "Yaaaar-aa-goood-boy," grins Doyle, pocketing a Milky Way and chuckling oujt the door...

Dear God.

Oh, and the Milky Way on the way out the door is a nice touch – very "corrupt cop believes 'everything is mine'" vibe.

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What, no neon sign?

I was thinking the same thing; this could be taken in a noir direction and with a woman in the lead. That could be very cool. Think, Invisible Scarlett as Sam Spade. Glenda Farrell would be chomping at the bit to play her.

Oh, and are Invisible Scarlet's steps-ins like the ones Sally threw at Vallee?

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We've read enough news coverage here in these Day by Days over the years and I've seen enough Warner Bros. gangster movies to know that isn't going to stop the cops from firing: "Eh, that's tough – sorry about your son – but at least we also got the bad guy."

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Love conquers all, eh Syl?

What odds is Ma giving on that marriage lasting as I'll take the under.

Regarding the fake rape charges and the US policy, let's hear how the frauleins are faring with the Russians. From what I've read over many years, the Russians did not have the same policy at all. The Germans in each area were praying the Americans showed up first.

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You know, there are safer hobbies.

This is not going to end well.

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Mom and Dad don't believe a word of this.

Can't blame them – without knowing any background – I didn't either.

 

[LizzieMaine]

"No, no," declares Sally, "mine had'dis'heeh aroun'em'neh. I MEAN MILDRED MCCULLOUGH'S DID!"

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Yeh," yehs Sally. "Alice is absenteein' fr'm woik t'day, she'n Krause 'eh goin' downtown to see somebody. She din' say who. Who's SHE know downtown anyways?" "Eh," shrugs Joe, stirring his cornflakes without much interest. "I wisht we had some bacon," sighs Sally apologetically. "Y'prawbly had awla bacon y'could eat inna Awrmy, huh?" Joe twitches, but makes no response, and Sally immediately feels a queasy regret for raising that subject. "Leonoreh's goin' t't' clinic wit' Misteh Ginsboig t'day," she stumbles, rushing to the next topic, "so you don' hafteh take 'eh when y'go oveh t' Ma's." "Mm," acknowledges Joe, thru a mouthful of cereal. "Izzit -- okay?" Sally ventures. "You know, woikin' oveh t'eh? Awlem bums an' charactehs comin' inn'eh, t'ey ain' givin' you no trouble? 'Cause if t'ey awr, you lemme know, I''ll go oveh t'eh, raise some hell, huh?" She waits for an expected eyeroll or wisecrack, and sinks a bit inside when none is offered. "Awright," she sighs, pushing away from the table, and reaching down to scratch Stella's ear. "I guess I betteh get down'a station, dowanna miss t'train." "OK," replies Joe. "Love ya," she declares, kissing her husband on the top of the head as she picks up her lunch box. "You too," nods Joe, without looking up...)

("So yeh," sweats Alice, feeling the moist leatherette of Magistrate Solomon's office chair sticking to the inside of her knee. "T''at's about'a size of it." "Yeh," nods Krause, as Willie squirms in his itchy new Namm's suit and tie. The Magistrate picks up the sheaf of papers on the desk before him, and adjusts his glasses as he scans the top sheet. "This birth certificate," he observes. "There is no father listed." "Um, no," stammers Alice, her ruddy face flushing to a dark red. "Um, see -- well, t't'ing wit't'at is -- uh -- well, look Fawt'eh, sawry, I mean, ya honeh, t'trut' is -- look, I done a lawtta t'ings in me life I ain't prouda. I done a lawtta t'ings I shouldn'a done, an' I made a lotta dumb mistakes, an' I -- trusted a lawtta t'wrawng people alawng'na way. But since I met Siddy -- I mean, Misteh Krause -- I mean -- him, t'is guy heeh -- um, I'm try'na do betteh. F'me, an' -- f'me -- um -- son." "Hmm," hmms the Magistrate. "You haven't said much, Mr. Krause," he notes. "Neh," shrugs Krause. He clears his throat. "But," he continues, in a low, quiet voice, "it -- um -- goes wit'out sayin', huh?" "Yeh," nods Willie. "I see," nods the Magistrate. "You realize there will be an investigation into your background, of course, but the fact that you are married to the boy's -- ah -- mother, and have served in a parental role for over a year now, will count in your favor in this matter. And, Mrs. Krause, may I say -- I am aware of your criminal record. Illegal transportation of spirituous liquors, resisting arrest, assault on a police officer, violation of the Sullivan Law. These are serious matters. But Mendel Ginsburg spoke very highly of you, and of your husband. I have known Mr. Ginsburg for many years, and his opinions and his judgement of character carry great weight with me. Now, if I may ask -- you were incarcerated between -- ah -- April of 1938 and April of 1943. According to this birth certificate the boy was born on March 6th, 1938. Who cared for the boy during the period of your imprisonment?" "Um," freezes Alice. "Um. A -- sisteh. I mean, MY sisteh not a sisteh sisteh, like one'a t'sistehs, but, um, she, um, passed away last yeeh. From -- uh -- consumption. Yeh. Consumption. Like Gawrbo innat pitcheh, y'know? It was very sad." "Yeh," nods Krause, his voice tightening. The Magistrate nods, his eyes narrowing. He glances again at the birth certificate, and deep in thought, gnaws at his lower lip. He gazes across the desk at Alice, Krause, and Willie. He takes another thorough look at the birth certificate, and finally returns it to the stack of papers before him. "Is there anything else," pronounces the Magistrate in a profoundly official tone, "that you wish to tell me?" Alice feels the room grow foggy, and thru sheer effort of will she whispers out a "no." "Neh," agrees Krause. The Magistrate looks at the boy, who shrinks under the intimidating gaze of authority. "And," queries the Magistrate, looking Willie dead in the eye, "I believe, my boy, that you are old enough to have an opinion on all of this. What do you think?" Willie looks at Alice, perspiration sagging the carefully arranged curls over her forehead, and then at Krause, his lips twitching in an attempt to shift an imaginary cigar. "She's me ma," Willie replies, simply and clearly. "And he's me pap. Solomon nods, and regards the family before him with a long silence. "I shall give this matter," the Magistrate finally exhales, "my most careful consideration....")

("Shouldn' you be goin' home?" smirks a fellow sergeant, sipping at a can of GI beer. "You an' your 89 points. Go home, see ya family again. Ya lucky bastid." "Ehhh," shrugs Solly thru a sip of his own beer. "Ain' gawt no fam'ly. So it ain't no big deal I guess, nobody wait'n fawr me back t'eh. I mize well hang aroun' a while longeh, see how it awl toins out. Well," he muses, "I got t'ese friends, right? T'is guy Joe, we grew up t'gett'eh in Williamsboig, right? Run arouna streets t'get'eh, woiked awna WPA t'get'eh, woiked in'nis pickle fact'ry t'get'eh. We was like Damon an' Goliath, y'know? He was a cook, last I hoid, w'it some mech'anize unit someweh oveh'r'eeh. I ain' hoid nut'n from awr about 'im f' mont's. I was writin' to his wife, right, back in Brooklyn 'neh, she din' know nut'n neit'eh. She's kin' of a nut, y'know, t'rows bricks t'ru movie screens, radios out'a windeh, she's way out t'eh, y'know. But Joe, see, he undehstands 'eh. An' I guess she unnehstan's him." He takes another swig from his can, and tosses the empty into a charred thicket. "I hope," he sighs, "t'eh awlright...")

(Use 'em up while you can, Mr. Lichty...)

(The photographer earned his pay today.)

(Well, it'll get him hopping to the bathroom, but you can't build much of an act around that.)

(In this family tree, he's the sap.)

("See, I can act! Don't I remind you of Mary Astor?")

("Oh and I want one of those intercoms you can buzz. I love those.")

(Well, I suppose it could be worse. You could be frozen in ice under a pier.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

"Well loooook at'chee," frowns Ma as Bink Scanlan jingles in the door resplendent in a loud plaid woolen jacket, still crisp and new. "Ye beat oop soom poor milk haaaarse an' steal 'is blanket?" "Hmph," hmphs Bink, flicking a speck of lint off her lapel. "I got t'is at Abraham 'n Straus, I'll have ya know." "Staaaaar detective didn't catch'ee?" smirks Ma. "Hmph," repeats Bink, carefully removing the jacket and stowing it behind the counter. "I *bawt* it. I come inta some money yestehday." "Ah," eyerolls Ma....

Hey, what happened to Sinatra's vote? WE DEMAND AN INVESTIGATION.

At least he's not cringing in the dark and whimpering like Warbucks would.

"One day, the worm will turn. EW! WORMS!"

You aren't going to let this go, are you?

"I'll take that bet!" -- Sandy.

"Who's flirting, I'm not flirting." -- DICK Tracy.

You must admit she knows her stuff.

Mr. Willard is here giving us a vivid demonstration of how the bourgeoisie uses the strategy of "divide and conquer" to render the working class quiescent. Look for him starting next week in the Daily Worker.

Now you know how Chili feels.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And also...

Mr. Grfiffith is an interesting case. He makes a substantial part of his annual income renting his ballpark to the Homestead Grays, who divide their home games between Pittsburgh and Washington. But he also, thru a very effective scout named Joe Cambria, recruits heavily in Cuba, and a number of Cuban players have suited up for the Senators displaying what might be described as a very deep tan. Purely of Spanish descent, you understand, wink wink...

 

[LizzieMaine]

And finally...

"Never mind that 'my pet' stuff. If you don't pay the light bill, I'm getting a new roommate!" "Wait, my name's Mae! Who's Ann?" "Oh. Sorry, wrong apartment."

 

[Fading Fast]

Sally ventures. "You know, woikin' oveh t'eh? Awlem bums an' charactehs comin' inn'eh, t'ey ain' givin' you no trouble? 'Cause if t'ey awr, you lemme know, I''ll go oveh t'eh, raise some hell, huh?" She waits for an expected eyeroll or wisecrack, and sinks a bit inside when none is offered.

I wasn't sure she was kidding. I could see her doing that, especially for Joe.

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Illegal transportation of spirituous liquors, resisting arrest, assault on a police officer, violation of the Sullivan Law.

Jesus. I think we only knew about the first one. I get they are all probably part of one event – and it's easy enough to see how it happened, but still, from Solomon's perspective, there's a difference between being a driver and, well, all that other stuff.

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Now, if I may ask -- you were incarcerated between -- ah -- April of 1938 and April of 1943. According to this birth certificate the boy was born on March 6th, 1938. Who cared for the boy during the period of your imprisonment?" "Um," freezes Alice. "Um. A -- sisteh. I mean, MY sisteh not a sisteh sisteh, like one'a t'sistehs, but, um, she, um, passed away last yeeh. From -- uh -- consumption. Yeh. Consumption. Like Gawrbo innat pitcheh, y'know? It was very sad." "Yeh," nods Krause, his voice tightening.

This is really funny and scary at the same time. I knew Solomon could cut through their BS story if he wanted to. The question is does he want to or is he willing to trust Mendel Ginsburg and see the bigger good here?

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She's kin' of a nut, y'know, t'rows bricks t'ru movie screens, radios out'a windeh, she's way out t'eh, y'know. But Joe, see, he undehstands 'eh. An' I guess she unnehstan's him."

Solly gets their marriage.

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The photographer earned his pay today.

I thought the exact same thing: two absolutely exciting pictures. The first one had to give Mickey Owen an ever so slight twitch with the ball just visible "over there" out of the glove. Not the same situation, but with a life-defining event, you see it everywhere.

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"See, I can act! Don't I remind you of Mary Astor?"

I read the Purple Diary, so if you really want to prove you're just like Mary Astor...

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"Well loooook at'chee," frowns Ma as Bink Scanlan jingles in the door resplendent in a loud plaid woolen jacket, still crisp and new. "Ye beat oop soom poor milk haaaarse an' steal 'is blanket?" "Hmph," hmphs Bink, flicking a speck of lint off her lapel. "I got t'is at Abraham 'n Straus, I'll have ya know." "Staaaaar detective didn't catch'ee?" smirks Ma. "Hmph," repeats Bink, carefully removing the jacket and stowing it behind the counter. "I *bawt* it. I come inta some money yestehday." "Ah," eyerolls Ma....

Of course. Although, I never picture Bink in bobby socks and saddle shoes. So do the girls get fired? I'd bet you they do – it was a less forgiving time. There's also a question of insurance, since the money was stolen, but perhaps there's a clause about gross negligence. Life always gets quickly complicated when you start to break it down.

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You must admit she knows her stuff.

She's playing a better game than I thought she would so far, but soon it will be Hu Shee's turn.

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"Never mind that 'my pet' stuff. If you don't pay the light bill, I'm getting a new roommate!" "Wait, my name's Mae! Who's Ann?" "Oh. Sorry, wrong apartment."

You do have to give the creators of this ad series credit, they've managed to get a lot – a whole lot – by the censors.

 

[LizzieMaine]

Incidentally, along with Umpire Butch Henline, the National League also has wearing the blue such names as George Magerkurth, Jocko Conlan, and Ziggy Sears. Truly we are witnessing a Golden Age.