The Era -- Day By Day

[Harp]

New York's rail paralysis with coffee artificial ceiling raise call is somehow linked to the white collar Cubs.

Dragon Gal certainly seems oblivious Slits' internal yin & yang conflict, missed her decisive dismissal of him as saxophone suitor underlying. However, de Plexus cognizance her vulnerability intrigues further speculation other perceived weakness regarding criminal reach amidst China civil conflict. She has to have some drug role, though never directly mentioned scripting.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Chicagaaaar syndicate me oye," sneers Uncle Frank. "Oi got'chee yaaar machine thru paaaarfectly legitimate channels." "Ye traded Doyle a case a' Canadian rye," recalls Ma. "Boot nivvar moind that. What did'jee foind oot aboot this man Snaaaaadgrass that's troyin' t' unlood this haaambaaarger stand aaahn Joseph?" "It's th' same man, aaaahlroit," nod Uncle Frank. "We usetarr do soom business in th' oold days." "Thin he still ooows ye," nods Ma, running her finger down the yellowed ledger page, "aboot foor hoondred dollars." "Th' divvil ye'say," chuckles Uncle Frank. "Oi doon't knoo how Oi coulda let that sloide." "It's toime ye collected," frowns Ma. "He's caaallin' Joseph ivvry hoor aaahn th' hoor troyin' t' cloose th' deal. Send th' boys..." "Jimmy's indispoosed," shrugs Uncle Frank. "He's playin' in a crooquet taaarniment this weekend at th' Toockahoo Cooontry Cloob." "Well, send Daniel an' Hector," snaps Ma. "Heckie?" scoffs Uncle Frank. "Whatcha waaan'im t'do, shake Snaaadgrass doon farr his milk moooney?" "Oi'll leave th' arrangements t' you," scowls Ma, "boot Oi waaant it doon. Oi'll naaaht have Joseph swindled by soom slick real isstate shaaark." "Maaar loike a floondar," snickers Uncle Frank. "Oi'm naaaht foolin' with ye, Francis," glares Ma. "Ah," ahs Uncle Frank...)

("I t'ink'ezz sump'n fishy 'bout t' whole t'ing," frowns Sally. "Hilda wouldn' steeh ya wrong," contends Alice. "Y'don't get t' be in a pitcheh wit' Red Skeleton if ya go aroun' steehr'in people wrawng." Sally shoots her a look. "Leas' I don' t'ink ya do," shrugs Alice. "It ain' Hilda I'm worried 'bout," insists Sally. "She's jus' tryin' t' help us out. It's'is guy Snodgrass. He's pestehrin' Joe at woik, an'en las' night he cawl't oveh t' Schreibstein's t'ree times. T' las' one, Sammy come oveh heeh in'is p'jamas at one inna mawrnin t'get Joe -- we t'ought somebody must'a died." "Oh," ohs Alice. "Nobody makes a phone cawl at one inna mawrnin'," contends Sally, "'n'less somebody died." "Y't'ink 'e's a crook?" queries Alice. "Oh, he's a reg'leh philant'ropis'," eyerolls Sally. "Whassat?" wonders Alice. "'S'a crook," sighs Sally, "t'at's tryin'a distrack ya. T' t'ing is, I tol' Joe I t'ink it ain' a bad ideeh t' take oveh t'is place, but not at foety bucksa mont'. He can't make no money lawng'sis meat mess is goin' awn, an' I'm on'y bringin' home a hunnet'n fifty bucks a mont'. Plus 'e'd hafta fix it up f'oehr'ee could open up, an' what'sAT gonna cawst?" "It woul'n cawst much t'fix up if *we* done t' fixin'," ventures Alice. "Who's WE?" gapes Sally. "Awl'v'us," continues Alice. "You'n me'n Siddy. An' Willie. An' Solly Pincus. Maybe even Sammy. Lotta people could pitch in." "Whatta you know," challenges Sally, "about fixin' up a hamboigeh stan'?" "Nut'n," admits Alice. "But Siddy c'n fix anyt'ing, an' -- well, foeh yeehs ago, I din'now nut'n bout makin' radio tubes. An' I done awright." "Hmm," hmms Sally. "Yeh," nods Alice...)

(What a picture for Preston Sturges...)

(Never mind this, did Dixie get his teeth fixed?)

(How many ex-boyfriends can you have in one house?)

(Chester Gould wants his labeled arrow back.)

(Yee Haw.)

(If you can't swim with the gators, stay out of the swamp...)

(Timing is everything.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

"Vacuum cleaners?" Sure, you think their customers aren't gonna flick their ashes on the rug?

I don't think so.

You know, the Army's taking re-enlistments.

Yeah, "chump" is only the beginning...

Better double check your math.

When Tracy straddles a chair like that you know the game is up.

"Make the preparations. It is the will of Molech."

"Oh, and I think we should get a television set."

Troll level off the scale.


What's next, Connie Mack runs off with a chorus girl?

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Worker...

All the chips are on the table....

 

[Fading Fast]

"Oi'm naaaht foolin' with ye, Francis," glares Ma. "Ah," ahs Uncle Frank.

I'd rather she go out and settle that up herself. Sounds like Joseph should get the stand, deed and all, for Ma to wipe the ledger book clean. Just sayin'.

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

But Siddy c'n fix anyt'ing, an'

Every family needs one of those guys.

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

"...the village of Interc*urse." Who knew Valley Stream had a twin city in Lancaster PA, that is Amish no less.

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

I don't think so.

She may be aging a bit, but she still has a heckuva a torso.

 

[Harp]

The German female deaths in American officer quarters are alarming; especially unsecured weaponry accessible a despondent woman. Shavetail lieutenants would have better sense and at captaincy rank such is inexcusable. Strict example needs be made pronto.

Overall, I understand union rank pay grievance, however, there are practical limits to national economic hostage taking. Truman's decisiveness is commendable.

Dragon Gal seems locked in a full Nelson. Slits may very well have his way with her, sad to say; afterwhich he might even kill her. However, since de Plexus first remarked her demise some time ago, Caniff deliberately hinted her mortality, subliminally suggesting strip sudden impact tragic consequence.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("It's like ya stan'in' onna edga t'is big black hole," sighs Sally, gazing up at the peeling white ceiling. "An' ya lean oveh t' try'n see what's down'eh, an' ya lean foit'eh an' foit'eh an' y'c'n feel ya feet stawrt'n t' slip, but'cha can't pull back..." "Understandable," observes Dr. Levine, her pencil skipping furiously across her notebook. "It ain' s'posta be like t'is," continues Sally. "T'wawr was s'posta be oveh, an' everyt'ing was s'posta set'l down." "According to whom?" challenges Dr. Levine. "Cawrdin'a ev'rybody," responds Sally. "Wasn'at what ev'rybody tole us? Wasn' we awl s'posteh have 'let'ric refrigehratehs an' television sets an' helicoptehs an'awlat stuff? An'ned be money enough t' go aroun', an' plenny'a food, an' peaceful c'wappehration f'ev'rybody'?" "It doesn't happen overnight," argues Dr. Levine. "Maybe it don' happ'nattawl," growls Sally. "I mean, what if Joe takes oveh t'is stan' out by t' racetrack an' loses 'is shoit? But what 'if 'e DON' take it, an' loses 'is shoit anyway?" "But what if he *doesn't* lose his shirt?" questions Dr. Levine. Sally squints over her shoulder at the psychiatrist. "I said," she continues, "what if..." "I hoid whatcha said," sighs Sally. "You t'ink, aft'eh t' yeeh we've had, t'ezza chance'a t'at hap'nin?" "You say yourself he has a good product," offers Dr. Levine. "When'ee c'n get t' meat," injects Sally. "The worst thing anyone can ever assume," declares the doctor, "is that everything will remain as it is. Everything changes." "T'at," exhales Sally, "is what I'm afraid of." "Exactly," concludes the Doctor...)

("I neveh t'ought," squirms Mr. Snodgrass, grinding the gravel with his toe, "I'd run inta YOU again." "Ahhh," sighs Uncle Frank. "It's a smaaaaaal waaaaarld. An' they till oos, gett'n smaaaaaler boi th' day. This is a foine place ye gaaaht heer." "It is," agrees Snodgrass. "An' t' you, sixty dollehs a mon't. But I gotta wawrn ya, I got two-t'ree ot'eh guys, I mean, real live wiehs, ready t' pay sevenny five. But f'you -- hey, we'eh ol' frens -- f'you, I make a deal." "Oh," smiles Uncle Frank. "Ye misoondarstand. Oi ain't lookin' t' ren'chee place." He reaches into his coat, and Snodgrass twitches. "Oi joost wanted," Uncle Frank continues, withdrawing a folded sheet from his pocket, "t' catch oop a bit." He hands the sheet to his oooold frien'. "Tharrrr's this small mattarrrr," Uncle Frank purrs, "oov an oold debt. Nooow, Oi doon't dwell aaahn soooch things as a matter'a cooorse, but Nora was goin' thru th' books..." "Nora?" gasps Snodgrass. "Ya don' mean -- Nora Sweeney?" "Ah," grins Uncle Frank, staring him in the eye. "It's -- ah -- Nora Leary now." "Oh," exhales Snodgrass. "Ah," ahs Uncle Frank. "Moit we goo insoide an' taaaaaaalk....")

(Can we just play the Phillies every day until September? And as for the Pirates situation -- remember that Mr. Benswanger was all set to give Roy Campanella a tryout in 1942 until "somebody" convinced him otherwise. I wonder what the new Commissioner thinks about unionization?)

(Do you suppose Slits has a brother?)

(Coming Events...)

(Isn't anybody alarmed that the sun ISN'T MOVING?)

(What, you mean he didn't direct too?)

(If you're a self made man, you could have done a better job.)

(Yeah, and it doesn't help much at all with Donald Duck.)

(Oh heeeeeeeeere we go....)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

New York's Picture Newspaper.

Hey, at least the Dodgers are in first place.

That's what happens when your road is built by the low bidder.

Isn't it romantic?

"The moment has been prepared for. Not our will but Molech's..."

Keep on the sunny side...

I don't have the heart to tell him that one of those photos is Julian Eltinge.

Ah, well, that all makes perfect sense...

Tongues have been cut out for less.

What, no bees?

 

[Fading Fast]

Can we just play the Phillies every day until September?



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

Well, umm, things have changed a bit. I always wonder what the reaction would be if any of these people could time travel to today. After the shock wore off, would it be "you're all nuts," or "thank God?"

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

Yeah, and it doesn't help much at all with Donald Duck.

What in God's name is an elevator doing in Truman's plane? How big could that thing really be? Was it original planed for FDR?

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

New York's Picture Newspaper.

Page Four has been very devoted to Page Four lately — it's nice to see.

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

Tongues have been cut out for less.

Caniff's illustration skills are on full display. You can even see how he positioned his DL model to stand in panel seven.

 

[Harp]

Jeremiah Bentham haven't heard mention since college.

Suicidal inclinations abound so tragically.

Britain endured near famine and deathly freeze before Marshall laid economic revival.
I've need for a good Keynes bio regarding this particular time with the champagne guzzler's honest reflection
this economic ennui.



Slithered like a snake out from Slits' grasp, Dragon Gal drove him to the waiting embrace of conspiracy.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("It'sa damndes' t'ing, Sal," marvels Joe, sliding the documents across the table. "T' phone don' ring awl moehnin', an' I'm t'inkin', well, Snodgrass musta hooked anot'eh fish -- an'nen Unc'a Frank comes wawkin' in an' han's me t'is." "You din' sign nut'n, didja?" squints Sally, adjusting her glasses as she scans the papers. "Lemme see it," insists Leonora. "No," admits Joe. "I wanna get Solly t' look at it foist. He's good wit't'is kin'a stuff." "LemME see it!" repeats Leonora. "Y'wanna get a lawyeh t'look at it," declares Sally. "Solly's a smawrt guy, but he ain'no lawyeh. T'marra, go see t'at guy Hoishkehwitz t'at helped out Sammy." "He's a crim'nal lawyeh," points out Joe. "Well," declares Sally, "t'at guy Snodgrass might BE a crim'nal." "Ah," ahs Joe, conceding the point. "Yeh," nods Leonora, giving her father a warning look...)


("Doon't fuss oovar'im soo," admonishes Ma. "He's oonly been home an hour, an' ye've troied t' feed 'im three toimes. He'll tell ye when 'ee's hoongry." "He ain't so funny lookin' aftehr'awl," admits Bink. "His head ain't so big." "Hoo quickly," chuckles Ma, "ye faaaarget....")

("Where'd you put him, anyway?" "You know that little closet where the ironing board folds in?")

(What they are delicately not mentioning is that Mr. McCarthy likes to "ride the White Horse" a bit more than is prudent for a man of his age and physical condition. But then, working for Larry MacPhail would drive anyone to drink.)

("Everybody's muscling in on my racket." -- Red Ryder.)

(Cats just can't get a break.)

(Don't look so excited.)

(Well, there's no reason to shoot at the alligator.)

(You do have to admire his resilience.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

Capt. Patterson was fundamentally involved in the creation of "The Gumps," "Little Orphan Annie," "Dic k Tracy, and "Terry and the Pirates," and also was responsible for telling Frank King that he needed to "get a baby" into "Gasoline Alley." And on top of all that, he gave us Page Four, a crusade for the metric system, and dreams of a 100,000 seat domed stadium in Flushing. How much can one person do?

There are a lot of snakes in Flatbush, but only a small number of them raid pigeon coops.

You gonna take off those stupid glasses or what?

The taxpayers won't like this.

This is why Pop will never retire.

To say nothing of the international authorities...

Hey, he's got an innocent face.

Judge, jury, and oh my...

"On the other hand, there's nothing good on the radio..."


The yolk's on you...

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Worker...

We'll see.

 

[Fading Fast]

Hoishkehwitz

Perfect. And, yes, see a lawyer, but a contract lawyer and ideally one who is familiar with real estate.

Separately, for those who grew up in the 1970s, don't all these postwar strikes remind you of that era where it felt like we ricocheted from one strike to the next?

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

Capt. Patterson was fundamentally involved in the creation of "The Gumps," "Little Orphan Annie," "Dic k Tracy, and "Terry and the Pirates," and also was responsible for telling Frank King that he needed to "get a baby" into "Gasoline Alley." And on top of all that, he gave us Page Four, a crusade for the metric system, and dreams of a 100,000 seat domed stadium in Flushing. How much can one person do?

He's one of those people who change the world.

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

You gonna take off those stupid glasses or what?

I'm surprised he isn't dead. The DL has lost a step or two since the war.

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

Hey, he's got an innocent face.

And another future casualty of Wilmer's scheming when this all blows up.

 

[Harp]

As a septuagenarian, prominent-and less so notable-obituaries are mandatory reading; especially
whenever Grim Reaper mortal nature hauls in younger souls than me, myself, and I. However, first cup
and still slightly groggy from late night reading, allows mere traverse rudimentary acknowledgement only....

The famed Doolittle Board session spiel pales adolescent survival lessons against Mister Charles Cong.
All men to perimeter and tell the cooks on M-60s to shoot like ''they mean business,'' if they want to live.

Ms Betty Sonnenberg's rather mercurial marital proposition answer bereft conditional precedent predicate
leaves little regard within promissory estoppel realm; wherein blind Cupid has no standing.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Slits seems to have caught a ****** sent his lady fair. And de Plexus plays him
like a Stradavari wrought Bach violin concerto harvest. Caniff skillfully draws the creative bow across the heartstrings of this hapless ****** who crossed over the line with Dragon Gal; and for whom there will be no going back.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Ah yes, Mr. Petrauskas," nods Mr. Hershkowitz. "Good to see you again. How's the Schreibstein boy? Mendel mentioned he was thinking of taking him on as an apprentice." "Yeh," nods Joe, taking the indicated chair. "Sammy's doin' awright. See t'ese pants? He hemmed 'em, done a nice jawb too." "Very fine," agrees Mr. Hershkowitz. "So -- why have you come to see me today. Your -- ah -- wife isn't in any..." "It was Sal's ideeh," replies Joe. "She wan'ed I should have a lawyeh look at'tese papehs heeh, an' yawr t' on'y lawyeh we know, so..." "Ah," nods Mr. Hershkowitz, accepting the documents. "Hm. Real estate contract for a property on Rockaway Avenue in Ozone Park. Is that out by..." "Yeh," nods Joe. "I never go there, of course," declares Mr. Hershkowitz as he flips thru the pages. "Well, I'll tell you," he nods. "Some of the provisions appear somewhat -- ah -- unusual. Now, as you know, my practice deals for the most part with criminal cases, but I have a colleague downtown, a Mr. Herbert Gelman, who I'd fully recommend to advise you on a matter like this. I'll be happy to speak to him about it for you..." "He ain'-- uh -- " stammers Joe, "...uh, 'spensive, is he?" "I'm sure," replies Mr. Hershkowitz, "that his fee would be quite reasonable given your situation." He writes a telephone number on the back of a business card and hands it across the desk. "And I might add," he continues, "that I had occasion to drop into Schreibstein's the other night, and I had one of your sandwiches. Best hamburger I ever had." "Oh," flushes Joe. "Um, yeh, we t'ink t'eh pretty good." "You go out to Ozone Park," declares Mr. Hershkowitz, extending his hand, "and you'll sell a million...")

("I looked oveh t'em papehs Frank give t' Joe," frowns Solly Pincus. "I dunno's I like t' setup." "You t'ink," queries Bink Scanlan, standing at the grill as she prepares Solly's beefwich, "t'at Frankie's head is too big?" "Huh?" huhs Solly. "Not Fatty Frank," snorts Bink. "Frankie t' Baby. You seen 'im. Is his head too big a'what? I t'ought it was, befoeh'ree got sick. But since 'e come home it don' seem so big." "He lost awlat weight," shrugs Solly. "Howtahelld'w I know? I dunno nut'n 'bout babies. I neveh was aroun' no babies. Anyways, I wanna meet t'is monkey t'at's try'na unload t'is hamboigeh stand on Joe. I wanna size'im up 'foeh Joe signs any'ting." "Whatta you know if 'e's a crook a'not?" scoffs Bink, slapping the juicy slab of beef onto the waiting toast. "Whatta YOU know 'bout crooks?" "I gotta good eye f' crooks," declares Solly. "Ah," snickers Bink, sliding the plate across the counter. "Betcha gotta good eeh f'rm too...")

(Mr. Lichty missed his train to Buffalo, and IS HE SORE.)

(Looks like Dix got his teeth fixed. DON'T FALL OFF THE HORSE!)

(Ella's husband doesn't talk much. I wonder why.)

(DON'T TAKE IT OUT ON THE DOG)

(Oh, Janie, noooooooooooooo....)

(I'd turn invisible if I were you...)

(Aim high, kid.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

From out of the past...


Whatever became of Tommy Manville?

The older you get the more aware you are of the ticking clock...

Another one of these people that JUST DOESN'T WANT A DOG

"People know everything in a town like this. Why, they even know all about -- you."

The dumber they are...

Like, for example, kick Wilmer where it counts...

He forgot all about Lent when it was going on, and now he's trying to catch up.

"If they didn't want it read, why did they hide it out in the open in a coat pocket like that?"

A door-to-door vase salesman could really clean up here.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Worker...

"I told him the United States had never been conquered by Naz is."

 

[Fading Fast]

"So -- why have you come to see me today. Your -- ah -- wife isn't in any..."

Perfect. They all know her.

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

Oh, Janie, noooooooooooooo....

The cowboy fantasy was real.

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

From out of the past...

"...persuaded her to further intimacies..."

Wait. What?

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

Whatever became of Tommy Manville?

I started out assuming Ruth Phelps was a garden-variety swindler, but by the end of the article, I'm revising it to touch in the head, too.

 

[Harp]

Charlie sure got around.

And so did Ms Ruth Phelps; whom, had she been male, wouldn't have gotten off scott free after serial bigamy conviction.

Chicagoan Donald Murray has the solid defense of passion in the slaying of Lt Col Fletcher. And his lawyer
will introduce today's press coverage with Murray's expressed crazed state nodoubtsaboutit at trial.

Still on the first cup of morning joe and think I missed some divorce alimony humongous story....

Slits is odd man out with Dragon Gal and de Plexus working his mind over. Definitely gonna get his tongue
tied later gator.