The Era -- Day By Day

[LizzieMaine]

("Whatta y't'ink," ponders Alice, "a tawkin' dawg would say if'ee was'eeh onnis train wit' us right now?" Sally shoots her seatmate a look. "Like I was sayin'," she sighs. "I t'ink t'at Rosa kid's awright. Her brot'eh, t'at Heckie, he gives me t' willies. But she's awright. An' I t'ink she's gonna go onna radio T'oisday, an' she's gonna do jus' fine. I tol' 'eh *confidence* is t' key t' public speakin'. You go up t'eh KNOWIN' ya know whatcha tawkin'about an'na people lissenin' is gonna KNOW you KNOW whatcha tawkin'about." "Less y'ra dawg," snickers Alice. "I tol'eh," ignores Sally, "'bout how I done it durin'a sit-down strike at Woolwoit's in t'oity-seven. I got up awnnat dry-goods coun'eh an' I stood'eh an'..." "I t'oughtcha said," interrupts Alice, "it was a sit down strike." "Y'know what I'd say," glowers Sally, "t' t'at tawkin' dawg if 'ee was 'eeh right now? SHADDAP!" "Heh," hehs Alice, as the train rolls on toward home...)

("Anybody goes t'wa wedd'n in Red Hook," snorts Bink, "is just ASKIN' t'get perzened!" "Doon't read th' noospaparr at th' table," snips Ma. "An' sit oop straight, yarr droppin' food aahn th' floor." "Dawg'll get it," shrugs Bink. "We ain't gaaat a dog," scowls Ma. "Oi wanted t' get woon," ventures Uncle Frank. "Nora says we caaan't aaafooord anoothar mooth t' feed." "Huh," huhs Bink, helping herself to seconds. "I ain' noticed. Hey, you heeh Rosa Capiello's gonna be awna radio? Wit'tat Tex McCrosby an' Jinx Rosenboig." "I thought that Jinx wooman had a baby," frowns Ma. "I don't t'ink t'baby's gonna be awn," shrugs Bink. "Sooch nonsense," sighs Ma. "Gooin' back t'warrk withoot a propar lyin'-in." "Awrful," agrees Bink, slapping margarine on a slice of potato bread. "Oov caaarse" squints Ma, "t' goo BACK t' waaark ye have'ta waaaaarked in th' faaarst place...")

(Of course, sometimes the veteran front man knows a few tricks himself. Isn't that right, Sergeant Solly?)

(A pleasant little upstate town...)

(Have you ever considered what kind of player Pete Reiser would be if concrete had never been invented?)

(Are you sure he didn't catch the flu?)

(Doesn't anybody WORK around this office? Those trite, banal, repetitive scripts won't write themselves!)

(Wait'll you find out what kind of place you'll be standing in front of...)

(All right, well, Gould never tried this...)

(At least it's more fun than chasing cars...)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

"Even spreading newspapers on the floor so she could remain near him all through the night." F'gawdsakes, have some self respect.

It's about time we got some of these postwar wonders we were promised.

Where's Mary Worth when you need her?

Some will never be able to come in off the fire escape...


"Cleveland? Pshaw, I was a Bryan man! Sixteen to one!"

Those cardboard dickeys don't absorb odor. Much.

Yeah, but the shock will be that much worse when you go back...

Let's just hope there isn't a sudden gust...

"I'm an engineering student! I have my specifications!"

Going to a funeral, Plushie?

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Worker...

There's a New World coming.

 

[Fading Fast]

"Oov caaarse" squints Ma, "t' goo BACK t' waaark ye have'ta waaaaarked in th' faaarst place..."

My father would've liked Ma.

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

Of course, sometimes the veteran front man knows a few tricks himself. Isn't that right, Sergeant Solly?

The more rules, regs, and programs with this or that aim, the more crooks, swindlers, and, apparently, harpies you find. I've picture Solly being like Ma, crooked but in an honest way.

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

All right, well, Gould never tried this...

Meta 1946 style.

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

"Even spreading newspapers on the floor so she could remain near him all through the night." F'gawdsakes, have some self respect.

A lot of details were elided in this one. Honestly, I have no idea what is really going on here.

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

It's about time we got some of these postwar wonders we were promised.

"Damp-dry" is doing a lot of work in this ad.

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

Where's Mary Worth when you need her?

I can save Mary the effort: everyone stay away from Nasty. There, problem solved.

 

[Harp]

All nighter studying thoroughbreds and equine racing industry.
This college and law school frolic routine doesn't pass septuagenarian muster.
Still think I'm a teenager who can stay awake waiting the enemy night hit behind barbed wire
draped tin cans with pebbles. Saw a few legal intrigues but still drowsy after the first cup o' joe.
Terrence needn't be taciturn with Chuckie. Spill the beans boyo and save the pal some heart tread wear n' tear. .

 

[LizzieMaine]

("All right," exhales Shirley Blick. "Here's what we'll do. Sammy, I want you to be Tex." "Why shore, mayum," Sammy drawls. "Ahhh'll be maaaaahty proud t'do it, maaaaaahty proud." "Don't do that," frowns Shirley. "He doesn't talk like that." "Oh," shrugs Sammy, with an edge of disappointment. "Awright. I'll jus' tawk reg'leh." "And I'll be Jinx," declares Shirley. "And we'll interview you." "Yeh," nods Rosa. "You've got those notes I gave you?" reminds Shirley. "Yeh," nods Rosa, holding up a stack of index cards. "An' Joe's wife gimme some ot'eh stuff t'say." "Oh," hesitates Rosa. "Let me see those, please." Rosa complies, handing over a folded sheet of tablet paper. "Hmm," hmms Shirley. "'Congratulations on your baby, Miss Falkenburg, but I can see you're looking pale. You know, good red meat like you get in a Big Joe's Beefwich will build the blood." "Izzat f' real?" gapes Sammy. "I think," sighs Shirley, "we'd better let these pass...")

("A lovely dress," greets Mrs. Ginsburg, as Leonora comes down the stairs. "It's rotten," dismisses Leonora. "Ma made me put it awn. She says I gotta get uset'wit. F' school." "A foist impression," nods Mrs. Ginsburg. "Always important to make. When foist I met Misteh Ginsboig, long ago, my best dress I was wearing. A dress I made with mine own hands. This impressed Mendel. 'A tailor knows,' he said. 'Fine stitching,' he says. And now for almost sixty years he still admires mine stitching." "My ma useta sew," shrugs Leonora. "Befoeh'r I was bawrn, she says. But she don't no moeh." "Oh," ohs Mrs. Ginsburg. "Perhaps you should encourage..." "Willie was diggin' out back inna coehtyawrd," continues Leonora. "Undeh t' windeh. He foun'a sewin' machine." "Oh," inhales Mrs. Ginsburg....)

("Atomic.")

(A warning track probably won't cut it. Have you considered a choke chain?)

(Sure, laugh -- but try going down stairs in that dress.)

(Actually, "Chip," there are many women working as radio directors. And I can't wait till one cuts you off.)

("Don't I get a bass drum with this suit?")

("Well, c'mon! You were lost in the swamp for three months and we didn't think you were coming back, and he promised us twenty bucks a strip!")

("Let's just wait till it breaks down!")

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

"I wonder if Dorothy Thompson would get an assignment like this."

The old guard is passing.

You ain't seen nothin' yet.

"There's only one guy around here who's gonna get a chunk of your dough, and he DOESN'T wear a fez!"

I'd be more concerned about this fatal epidemic that seems to be sweeping the community.

Red lead paint is widely used for barns and outbuildings on farms.

Lifelong bachelors are born, not made.

"What was her name? Fifi? They're all named Fifi!"

With only three and a half months left till Caniff departs, I really wish we had something better to do than this.

Whatever became of the Slither Sisters? Hmm?

 

[Fading Fast]

"'Congratulations on your baby, Miss Falkenburg, but I can see you're looking pale. You know, good red meat like you get in a Big Joe's Beefwich will build the blood."

Sally is a lot of things, and has some impressive talents, but subtlety is not one of them.

Separately, it's hard to believe it's been a year since VJ Day.

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

"Willie was diggin' out back inna coehtyawrd," continues Leonora. "Undeh t' windeh. He foun'a sewin' machine."

What did he do with all the radios he found over it? Heck, keep digging and see if there are any earlier radio models down there.

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

It's very clear the US Press does not want to cover this story objectively, they want to ignore as much as possible. I assume they want their reporters to continue to have good access to "organized baseball" and won't risk it with positive coverage of the Mexican league. That's just my guess - anyone have other thoughts why they are ignoring the obvious story here?

*******************************************************
"I wonder if Dorothy Thompson would get an assignment like this."

That was a silly article but almost fun.

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

With only three and a half months left till Caniff departs, I really wish we had something better to do than this.

Like bringing back Hu Shee to close out his run and letting her finally get Terry: she's wanted him for so long.

 

[LizzieMaine]

I think that's exactly it -- they're terrified of a press blacklist. I think Jimmy Powers is the only reporter who's actually been down there to look over the scene first hand, but he has his own agenda. I wish Holmes would go, but he's probably too close to the Dodgers/Rickey side of the picture to risk it. Mardo could go, but after his recent articles, I doubt he'd get any cooperation at all from the Pasquels. Maybe someone ought to send a foreign-affairs correspondent instead of a sportswriter...

 

[Harp]

The Hicks court martial dishonorable discharge article was incomplete as to the ****
conviction and any possible error therein; which would have been interesting. I know that
in occupied Europe after 6 June 1944 **** conviction was quasi capital punished with rope.

Liz is right. Read betwixt lines, Terry and the Pirates is running on empty. Prurient loose ends
with Burms and Dragon Gal deserve a secure ************** knot. And at the Peninsula in
Hong Kong with all the trimmings.

 

[LizzieMaine]

Meanwhile, speaking of strips we still miss every day, here is an excellent appreciation for Harry Tuthill and our long-lost Bu ngle Family. I hope he's enjoying retirement, but it hasn't been the same since he went away...

https://panelsandprose.com

(And the goddam censor bot can go eat a bowl. B U N G L E B U N G L E B U N G L E!)

 

[Harp]

Shades of Henrik Ibsen.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Yeh," nods Sally. "Joe wen' wit'eh, an'nat Shoiley Blick. I tol' Joe afteh Rosa gets done wit' sayin' 'eh piece, he oughta try'n get on'neh too. He's gotta honest verce, he'll go oveh big awna radio." "He does," agrees Alice, "kin'a soun' like Jawn Gawrfiel'." "I neveh know anymoeh," frowns Sally, "when ya kidd'n a' not." "'S too bad y'can't lis'en'a t'at show," continues Alice. "Eight t'oity inna mawrnin', we'll be out awna flooeh. An' I don' t'ink t'eh gonna put t' radio awna public address f' t'is." "I got it awl figyehed out," declares Sally. "R'membeh las' winteh, we set up t'at rat cawp Flannehry inta Schreibstein's? R'membeh how Solly Pincus was inna back t'eh wit' t'at reckehd machine, takin' it awl down? Well, I ast 'im t'make a reckehd a' Rosa speakin' onna show t'day, an' maybe Joe too. I t'ought it'd be sump'n t'save f' Leonoreh." "Betteh t'en 'Cement Mixeh," snickers Alice. "Putty-putty...")

("Whas'sis wieh do?" questions Bink Scanlan, poking at the cased gadgetry spread out on the counter. "Don' touch'at," warns Solly Pincus. "It's f' t' microphone. An' when I stawrt t' reckehd goin', allayez shut up. Awright, Heckie, toin awna radio." Heckie does so, as Ma and Uncle Frank arrive from upstairs. "Aaaare they aaaahn yet?" demands Ma. "Poosh oovar," requests Uncle Frank, easing Solly off his favorite stool. "Y'got t'at tuned in yet?" calls Solly. "It's awready eight t'oity." "Awl set," replies Heckie, sliding the microphone into position in front of the speaker, as a lilting voice peals forth. Solly starts the turntable, and lowers the cutting head to the blank record. A hair-fine thread casts off the point of the needle as the disc spins. "Hey," interrupts Bink. "Joe's wife ain' gonna like t'is." "SHH!" shooshes Ma. "HEY," repeats Bink. "SHHHHHH!" shooshes Ma again, with Solly joining in on close harmony. "HEY!" insists Bink. "Y'gottit awna wrawng station! T'at ain' Jinx Finkelstein -- it's Dawrot'y Kilgallen!")

(Nothing wrong with Reiser's feet. And Mr. Holmes, Jimmy Powers, and Bill Mardo ought to get together for lunch.)

(Hey Rosa......)

("Kiss thrill?" Is that what they call it now?)

(So NYAHHHHH!)

(Who's Gary Cooper?)

("We haven't had a client in three months and we can't afford to be picky!")

(AND SOME PEOPLE THINK DOGS SHOULDN'T CHASE CARS!)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

"It's just no fun anymore without Butch around." --F. Erickson, King Of The Tinhorns.

I would imagine a reporter for a paper that sells almost 3 million copies a day wouldn't have to worry too much about repercussions...

Mr. Shirer has a right to make a living.

We're all actors playing our roles...

I have a pump organ, and I strongly recommend it as the best possible musical instrument for anyone who needs exercise.

"I know all about this sort of thing, I saw 'Road To Morocco' six times!"

Symbiosis.

Fred has realized certain truths that Honey is not prepared to hear.

We've seen him without the beard. Quit while you're ahead.

I've been to that clinic.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Worker...

And if you can't trust the Worker to give you the straight story on a Marx movie, who *can* you trust?

 

[Fading Fast]

Hey Rosa......

The ad does't tell us much. Is this an exhibition or, and I use this term as someone who doesn't understand it, the sport? I sat through an entire movie of Raquel Welch playing a roller derby athlete and still learned all but nothing about the sport.

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

I would imagine a reporter for a paper that sells almost 3 million copies a day wouldn't have to worry too much about repercussions...

Can't help thinking of your expression: wheels within wheels. The incentives are all over the place.

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

I have a pump organ, and I strongly recommend it as the best possible musical instrument for anyone who needs exercise.

Interesting that our oh-so-sensitive censoring software didn't have a problem with this sentence. Not a single asterisk.

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

We've seen him without the beard. Quit while you're ahead.

Marry the man he is, and not the one you want him to be, or you'll be unhappy.

 

[Harp]

As to micro economic supply and demand consequence, there is the Keynesian formula,
NG=NG/G; or more succinctly summed: No girls, no go.
The Copacabana's Mara Williams looks first base leadoff bat in that lineup photo.
She's one cute cookie.

Terry literally drags with all the Sino colloquialism. Milt must've been a rather ****ed pencil.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Oh, it was awright," dismisses Sally. "We lissen t' t'em reckehds Solly made las' night, me'n Joe did. He t'ought she done awright, but she coulda used'at stuff I give'eh. Joe says Shoiley Blick nixed it. Who's she t'ink she is?? Whas'she know 'bout it?" "She's pretty smawrt," shrugs Alice. "Her faw'teh's a dentist." "Whasat got t'do wit' 'it?" frowns Sally. "Anyways, she got in a coupla plugs, but'ey coulda had'eh on'neh moeh. Who't'hell caehs 'bout lissenin' t' Jinx Fawlkenboig's mot'eh?" "I would," admits Alice. "I wanna know how she come up wit'tat name." "An'nat guy t'ey had awneh," complains Sally. "Tilyou. Y'know, t'guy runs Steeplechase Pawrk" "Is he t'one," queries Alice, "wit' awlem big teeth?" "T'ats justa sign," scoffs Sally. "Nobody's got a real face like t'at. An' who caehs anyways. T'ey shoulda had Rosa awneh f' t' whole show." "Maybe," ventures Alice, "she c'n go awn anot'eh show." "Like what?" snaps Sally. "Well," offers Alice, "how 'bout 'Dorot'y an' D ick?'" "Y'know," glares Sally, "I don' HAVE t' ride t' woik wit'choo.....")

("Oh, she was all right," declares Mrs. Blick, fussing with her breakfast. "I just think she could speak more clearly. She sounded out of place with those other people." "Mr. McCrary liked it," disputes Shirley, sipping her orange juice. "After the broadcast, he told her she has personality." "Oh, absolutely," agrees Dr. Blick, spearing a morsel of omelet. "And when she talked about those hamburgers, she sounded like she really believed what she was saying." "Still," argues Mrs. Blick, "would it hurt for her to work on her speech a little bit? Would it? People don't like to listen to people talk like that on the radio, all that 't'is an' n'at an' hamboigehs in Ozone Pawrk' sort of thing." "You do that very well, Bella," chuckles Dr. Blick. "You'd think she was born and raised in Bensonhurst," snickers Shirley as the telephone rings. "Hello?" answers Mrs. Blick. "Yes, she's here. One moment please." She clamps the mouthpiece to her chest, and eyes her daughter. "It's Mr. Sobol from WNBT." "Oh," ohs Shirley, her eyes widening as she reaches for the phone.....)

(Coming Events...)

(Hig would do better if somebody would hide his bottle opener.)

(When it gets to 106, sell.)

("Whatever, I'm going to bed. Wait, do I live here now? How did that happen?")

(Walter Catlett does comics now? Good casting!)

(Mr. Stamm has an assistant by the name of Emery Clarke, and I suspect they may not be getting along...)

(Hey, isn't this Avery from 'Gasoline Alley?' Where's Uncle Walt??)

 

[LizzieMaine]

See, bud, you practice your map drawing enough and you could get an honest job.

"Even Rickey would spend $10,000," reads Mr. Parrott, "to get $100,000 back." "I'll sue," flares Mr. Rickey, "for slander!"

"It IS restful, though. At night you're lulled to sleep by these tiny rasping sounds..." "That's termites, dear."

Castles in the air...

Where's the fun?

"That's IT! I shall become a CHICKEN!" Oh, sorry, wrong comic.

Well, maybe he won't revoke bail till noon.

You can get sick from brackish water.

Well, this changes everything.

Wait'll you try paregoric.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Worker...

Layers upon layers, wheels within wheels. And I wonder where Mardo went on his vacation?