The Era -- Day By Day

[Harp]

Read the Gibbs/Sir Percival nonsense on my second coffee chaser, and couldn't brief case.

The only lucid thought was a few pages back in the movie sheet where gorgeous Linda Darnell
featured with Jeanne Crain in some Cornel Wilde flick. I recalled the cute little girl runaway article
from the other day and her having been found at a hotel.

Charles looks a broken heart woeful lament crash victim. Chuckie needs a bottle of
Evan Williams Kentucky bourbon and a woman. That's eight year old-charcoal barrel aged
stock. And the female over thirty years ripened maturity who speaks English, not just Hakka and Punji. Dragon Gal is a thought. Hopeless, of course, but still a thought.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("So b'foeh Mike O'Donnell lef' f' home, he gimme t'is," intones Solly Pincus, holding up a thick manila envelope. "Ah," blanches Uncle Frank. "Now, I been oveh awl'v'it," Solly continues, "an' t'ez no pernt'a goin' ovehr'it again, so I'm jus' gonna give ya t'is t' read oveh so y'know t'at *I* know. An'nen I'm gonna tell y' T'IS. T' funny business is oveh." He reaches into his desk and pulls out another envelope. "T'IS is an inventawry system," Solly explains. "It's t' one Mike put t'ge'teh f' Lowrey in Chicageh, an' awla midwest stoehs is gonna be usin' it. An' so's alla stoehs heeh. An' SO's t' waehhouse." "Um," ums Uncle Frank. "Oi'm -- ah -- surre me boy Danny will be happy -- to -- " "No," glares Solly, "he won't. I awready got somebody picked out t'do it. She's out front right now. She keeps a good, tight set'a books, she neveh loses track of a red penny, an' I neveh met nobody could keep track'a numbehs like she does." Solly steps to the door of his office, and kicks it open. "Frank," Solly announces, "I wan'cha t' meet ya new waehhouse supehr'intendant." "Dia ar sabhail!" gapes Uncle Frank. "Let's get t' waaaaark!" grins Ma.....)

("You know how I feel about this," frowns Bella Blick. "Moth-errrrrr," sighs Shirley. "We've been all over it.." "I just don't think it's RIGHT for a girl your age to work in a candy store," insists Mrs. Blick. "You KNOW the things that go on in those places! Did you know that MUR DER INCORPORATED had its HEADQUARTERS in a candy store???" "If Albert Anastasia comes in," snickers Shirley, "I'll be sure to tell you." "You're not on television, young lady," snaps Mrs. Blick. "And those show business people are bad enough without you getting mixed up with candy store loafers! You KNOW the kind of people that...." "You go in Schreibstein's all the time," observes Shirley. "Only to buy magazines," counters Mrs. Blick. "Good magazines. The Saturday Review. The Atlantic Monthly..." "Oh, that reminds me," injects Shirley. "Sammy asked me to tell you the new Modern Screen is in." "It's for your father's waiting room," mutters Mrs. Blick...)

("So they tell me," begins Mr. Sobol, "that you're thinking taking some nightclub dates." "Eh," ehs Rosa, tightening a wheel on her skate as the stagehands bustle around her. "It's a pawssability." "You know, don't you," frowns Sobol, "that your contract gives NBC the right of approval on any other performances you do." "No," admits Rosa, putting down her wrench. "I din' know t'at." "Oh, it's usually not a problem," assures Sobol. "I mean, you wouldn't be allowed to do anything with anyone under contract to the competition. And I don't think the agency people would like it if you did anything with anyone under contract to Maxwell House." "I'll keept'at in mind," eyerolls Rosa. "In fact," continues Sobol, "I might even be able to help arrange some dates for you. Did you know that NBC and RKO are, shall we say, cousins?" "Some fam'ly," eyerolls Rosa. "And you must know that many RKO theatres feature vaudeville acts between features," nods Sobol. "What would you think about playing a split week at, oh, you're from Brooklyn, how about the RKO Albee?" "Huh," admits Rosa. "Whatt'v I gotta do?" "You need a manager," proposes Sobol. "I got one," replies Rosa. "That girl?" snorts Sobol. "That kid." "Yeh," nods Rosa. "T'at kid." "Hmmm....." hmms Sobol.....)

(Peace Is Hell.)

(Come clean, El Cheapo. How much did you charge them?)

(Haven't we seen this movie on the bottom half of a double bill?)

(Brick just wants it to be over.)

("I'll need to see some identification, sir.")

(All right, now what?)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

Do you get the feeling Jinx just got a new press agent? And who ever heard of a Yale man named "Tex?"

"They cheat at chess." -- Leonora Petrauskas, 63rd Street, Brooklyn, age 5.

That's the politest cop I've ever seen.

Wheels within wheels...

If it looks like a goose and awks like a goose...

The obituaries. Check the obituaries. And the "I will pay no bills contracted by anyone but myself" announcements.

"Those rubber planters paid well to keep the natives down. But I digress..."

That's a good start, now work on the harmony.

Johnny Jingo? Johnny Jingo knows what Johnny Jingo's been up to, and Johnny Jingo isn't telling!

It's really something when you get a concussion through the telephone...

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Worker...

Out in Cleveland, William L. Veeck Jr. couldn't agree more...

 

[Fading Fast]

"Dia ar sabhail!" gapes Uncle Frank. "Let's get t' waaaaark!" grins Ma.....

Wait. What?

Where's my Shirley?

This is going to stress Nora and Frank's marriage.

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

"If Albert Anastasia comes in," snickers Shirley, "I'll be sure to tell you."

Yup, still love her.

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

"You need a manager," proposes Sobol. "I got one," replies Rosa. "That girl?" snorts Sobol. "That kid." "Yeh," nods Rosa. "T'at kid." "Hmmm....." hmms Sobol.....

Yup, love her.

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

Come clean, El Cheapo. How much did you charge them?

I hope he did. It sounds like it was quality work.

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

"I'll need to see some identification, sir."

It's fraudy and scummy, but is this really a crime? And I still challenge that any jeweler would fall for it.

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

"They cheat at chess." -- Leonora Petrauskas, 63rd Street, Brooklyn, age 5.

Dads are much smarter than Moms. –– Shirley Blick, Lieb's Candy Store, Brooklyn

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

Johnny Jingo? Johnny Jingo knows what Johnny Jingo's been up to, and Johnny Jingo isn't telling!

Caniff is getting into wrap-up mode.

 

[Harp]

Martha O'Driscoll and Jinx Faulkenberg are nice to awaken to with coffee after breakfast.
************** sans menage mais c'est la vie.
I had a shot at Columbia way back whenever, but the cards kept me in Chicago.
Still bugs whatever undergrad soulful angst still dwells inside me.
Anyway, the WWII newspaper pix of Jinx stuffed inside a lambswool Air Corps Irvin jacket rushes forefront *****c memory. Chaste setting transformed by an unforgettable woman.

Surprised Terry didn't remark Charles' mention of Pat Ryan. But at least the kid is getting his postwar azz in gear for a gal. Yeah, the wrap party is due calendar schedule any scribble now.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("I got t'em papeh bags packed up, Misteh P," reports Sammy. "I left out enough t'get us t'ru Satehday like ya said, but I put t' rest'vm in boxes, an'neh ready t'go. T'at was t' last'a t' stuff inna back." "Good," sighs Joe. "Uncle Frank'll be out heeh wit' t' truck t'marra t'pick 'm up. How's ya folks fixed back in Bensonhoist?" "We c'n probl'y take a coupla bundles," shrugs Sammy. "But -- well, y'know, t'eh ain' much meat left." "Yeh," sighs Joe. "Awright, why'ncha go out'eh an' put up t'em stawrm windehs inna kitchen." "I gotcha," nods Sammy, going off to complete the task just as Miss Kaplan rolls up to the window. "T"at last customeh," she complains, "wasn' no gen'leman. When I come up he wen' TOOOOOOOT TOOOOOT like a tugboat. Whatta bum. I'm LOSIN' weight out'eeh! Moze is gonna love t'at, he's awrays afteh me t' drawp a few pounds. Whatta YOU t'ink, Joe? You t'ink I need t' lose weight?" "Sa'wla same t'me," shrugs Joe, straightening the few bills in his till. "I been real happy woikin'eeh," Miss Kaplan declares. "It's nice t'be out'na fresh aieh, out heeh in natcheh..." Joe glances up at the row of auto repair sheds lining the opposite side of Rockaway Avenue, and exhales. "I'm pretty happy," declares Miss Kaplan. "Bein' out heeh in natcheh --- wit'choo. How'bout'choo, Joe? Ain' you happy?" "Eck-static," sighs Joe, as the autumn sun sets over Ozone Park...)

("I dunno why I let'eh tawk me inta t'is," mutters Bink Scanlan, hunched over the latest revision of Rosa's script. "I ain' no actress." "Ye should practice playin' a janiteh," insinuates Ma. "Yawr as bad azzat Shoiley Blick," fumes Bink. "Y'know what she said t'me? She said 't'at broom woiks a lot betteh when it's movin'!" "Heh," chuckles Ma. "She's th' one ought t'be aaaahn th' stage." "I'm gett'n sicka ev'rybody pickin' awn me," complains Bink. "Well thin," summarizes Ma, "don' give'm no reason to." "I wisht I knew HOW," laments Bink, shoving the script aside and reaching for a folded newspaper. Ma returns to her ledger, as Bink scans the page, her eyes lighting on the public notices. One ad in particular catches her eye. "Hey," she heys. "BUckminsteh telephone numbehs is right aroun' heeh, ain'ey?" "Oop aroond Empire Boulevarrd," nods Ma. "Hmmm," hmms Bink. "BUckminsteh 4-8865." "Staaap moomblin' t' yeself," snaps Ma. "C'n I use t' phone?" she retorts. "Don't goo takin' noo nickels oota me till!" commands Ma. "Hmph," hmphs Bink...)

("Y'know, we really shoulda painted t'ese walls red. Make cleanin' up a lot easieh.")

(Ted Williams bunted. And the earth quaked and the sky grew dark, and the moon turned into blood...)

(Ella has a very understanding husband. EIther that or he's got something going on we have no idea about....)

(Shouldn'a slept thru that last semester in divinity school...)

(Well, that was easy. Go check on your cowboy.)

(I dunno, looks me like rigor mortis has set in...)

(ANOTHER VICTORY FOR AMERICA'S NUMBER ONE HERO DOG!)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

No more sailors.

"Leave Williams alone? When YOU leave RICKEY alone!" -- The Boston Press.

"Because someday you'll be asking HIM for a job!"

She wouldn't EVER bunt.

With a supreme effort of will, Fred forced himself from bed and -- RAN AWAY! "Nothing to it," chuckles the doctor...

These are the guys you NEVER stiff on a tip.

Maybe you could arrange for Wilmer to go to Brazil, and you could get HIS house.

Investigators in search of a crime...

No, you're still off on the harmony.

Fuddy? If you squint a bit, I could swear this guy is George Bun gle. But if he is, then Jo has really let herself go.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Worker...

It's been a while since we had a really good milk war.

Football? Feh. Does football have anybody named "Boo?"

 

[Fading Fast]

That is a massive emotional swing from high to low. Stealing a base is an incredible high. To then get picked off is at least an equal low. Great picture though.

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

Well, that was easy. Go check on your cowboy.

Same as yesterday: what they did feels fraudy and scummy, but I don't really see a crime they can be arrested for in there. The jeweler massively overpaid for a jewel out of greed. Yawn.

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

No more sailors.

So does Ms. Peck get to stay in the US if the marriage was annulled?

A very busy Page 4. I'd have to reread it to discuss it as the stories started blending into each other.

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

She wouldn't EVER bunt.

Clearly, this was no life-changing experience for Nasty.

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

Fuddy? If you squint a bit, I could swear this guy is George Bun gle. But if he is, then Jo has really let herself go.



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

It's been a while since we had a really good milk war.

That article was impressively objective – couldn't find one iota of bias by the DW.

 

[Harp]

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

No more sailors.

So does Ms. Peck get to stay in the US if the marriage was annulled?

A very busy Page 4. I'd have to reread it to discuss it as the stories started blending into each other.

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

She wouldn't EVER bunt.

Clearly, this was no life-changing experience for Nasty.

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

Voir dire, Latin for ''to speak truth,'' is an exacting exercise process.
My sister was once voir dire empanelled for a DUI car crash homicide for which prosecution
sought capital punishment, and, asked if she could vote for a death verdict (she worked ER),
she said she would throw the switch. Excused by defense.

Mrs Peck fell under congressional war brides enactment aimed fraudulence concern,
which standard she has passed; consequently court annulment for marital desertion validates her domicile right. I'd have taken her as pro bono client and nailed her husband sailor's stern end to the wall.

Nasty needs a lesson. And somehow I am definitely not surprised.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("If you hadn'a got us t'at p'strami," sighs Sally, "I dunno what we'd be doin'." "Moskowitz says you owe 'im," warns Alice. 'An'na man t'at c'n get p'strami ain' a man t'be messed wit'. Siddy hadda lay onna sidewawk awl night t'get it, an' when he come home, t' dawg just staehed at 'im wit' t'em big brown eyes till 'e t'rew 'im a piece 'a t' fat." "Hmph," hmphs Sally. "T'at's t' bes' pawrt." "Sometimes," sighs Alice, "Siddy's got too sawft a hawrt f'r'is own good...")

(Appraching an unmarked door on Sterling Street, Bink Scanlan checks the address she has scrawled in the margin of a torn newspaper scrap. She reaches for the knob, and then pauses, considering and reconsidering. She gnaws momentarily at her lower lip, takes a deep breath, and looks down at the small plate fixed on the door.. WALK IN.
Squaring her shoulders. she does so, and finds herself standing in a dark, curtained foyer, the atmosphere thick with a cloying odor. "ENTER!" booms a resonant voice from the other side of the heavy drape. "ENTER, O SEEKER OF KNOWLEDGE! ZENO! -- BIDS YOU WELCOME." Her throat rising, Bink, pushes aside the curtain, steps forward -- and as the smoke from the incense engulfs her, begins to wheeze uncontrollably.. Thru the haze, she makes out an enormous creature in a brocade robe and jewel-encrusted fez, squinting at her with dark pinpoint eyes., the rest of his features obscured by dense black whiskers. "WHAT GUIDANCE," thunders the figure, "DO YOU REQUIRE FROM --- ZENO!" "Um," ums Bink, hesitantly accepting a proffered chair. "OW!" she yelps, as a protruding spring from the cushion finds its mark....)

("Well, the U. S. Chamber of Commerce might.")

(So long, Ducky. It was good to have you back, even for a little while...)

Joe Garagiola is hitting twice as well as Ted Williams. And the world turned upside-down.

(Um.)

(Oh pout pout pout.)

(The old phony soldier racket? 1944 was a long time ago.)

(Um, again.)

(This is where we came in.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

Well, that's reassuring.

"Yeah," sighs Rosa. "But t' gal in'na cawfee can, does she get an award?"

"Become a psychiatrist. Then at least you'll get paid for it."

"And, well -- at least from massive sepsis, you die quick, right?"

Thorough, aren't they?

Lot of doctors in the comics today. Is the AMA doing a promotion?

Never flaunt the authority of a super.

"Hey goosey, you gonna pay for that paper?"

Shadow has the soul of an arsonist.

"The Man Who Came To Dinner."

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Worker...

It's good to see that Butch is keeping busy.

 

[Fading Fast]

So long, Ducky. It was good to have you back, even for a little while...

It's weird, but I do feel a bit sad.

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

Oh pout pout pout.

Other than Brick, I wouldn't give you three cents for any of these people, and the jury's still out on Brick.

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

"Become a psychiatrist. Then at least you'll get paid for it."

Yup, sometimes that's teenage dating.

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

Thorough, aren't they?

I like p*ssed-off Terry.

 

[Harp]

Now I know why I never heard of, nor fell in love with Margaret O'Sheridan.

Mrs Fitzpatrick and daughter Ann Marie are lovely, and happily lawfully married.

Mary Worth's Brick is a fine looking brunette who spices her particular script quite nicely.

Milt appears anxious to settle Heatherstone-Smythe. And Terry nailed all germane somatic
evidentiary facts; so, the woman can be charged attempted murder-thrown into the hoosegow
and ****d by all the resident lezbo similarly incarcerated element.

 

[Fading Fast]

Now I know why I never heard of, nor fell in love with Margaret O'Sheridan.
...

Agreed. She made some good movies – (as silly as the name sounds) "The Thing from Another World" (1951) and "I, the Jury" (1953) being the two that I've seen – and is a quite attractive woman and fine actress. IMHO, she steals several scenes in both of those pictures. She gives off an earthy quality that I think you'd like, Harp.

Hollywood is a tough place as even talented actors and actresses can fall well short of their potential. She only acted in eleven projects, some of which were early TV efforts. Sadly, she only lived to 55.

Here's here IMDb page (note that O'Sheridan was shortened to Sheridan): https://www.imdb.com/name/nm0792212/?ref_=nv_sr_srsg_0_tt_0_nm_7_in_0_q_margaret sheridan

 

[Harp]

I recognized Keith Tobey and believe I probably caught Thing way back when grammar school
televised rerun camp run. Tobey appeared in Billy Jack, and with Redford in The Candidate.
He was a buddy of Gregory Peck, and portrayed the gate sentry in Twelve O'Clock High.
Lovely Margaret I missed.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("I tried t' tell'eh," sighs Rosa. "But she t'inks t'is guy is some kinda wizzehd awr a swami a' sump'n. She says he knew awl kinds'a t'ings about 'eh.' "Like what?" frowns Shirley. "Well, like, f'rinstance..." recalls Rosa, "she says 'e looked at 'eh an' said 'you have experienced recen' unhappiness.!" "Mmm," nods Shirley. "The ice cream delivery didn't come in this week." "An' she said," continues Rosa, "he said to 'eh, 'you have been betrayed by a man.' " "Oh, yes," eyerolls Shirley. "And again, when she paid him." "She says," concludes Rosa, "he told 'eh t'ata great change in'eh fawrtunes is comin'.' So y'know what she done? She spent half'n houeh las' night pumpin' nickels innat slot machine. An' when I ast'eh if she studied any onna act, she ast' me if I had change f'ra dolleh. Whattaya DO wit' somebody like'at?" "Hey," heys Joe, approaching the pair. "I t'ink once 'is las' customeh's awl done, we'eh gonna close up. T'at's t' last'a t' meat..." "Oh," ohs Shirley as Joe heads back to the stand. "Now there's somebody who needs a great change in his fortunes.." "Don' take no swami," sighs Rosa, "to see t'at...")

("I t'ought you said we was get'na erl boineh t'is yeeh," questions Sally. "So we t'ought," sighs Alice. "Siddy ain' had no luck get'n one." "Tawk t' Uncle Frank," urges Sally. "He showed Siddy one," shrugs Alice. "He said awl it needs is a new bloweh moteh. Said 'e could get t'at moteh, jus' like t'at. T'en awlava sudd'n he cawls up an' says t' deal's awff. Can't get no moeh pawrts. Says 'is sawrce dried up, an'nee can't get no moeh f'rm t'at sawrce eveh again." "Huh," huhs Sally. "T'at ain' like Uncle Frank t' give up t'at easy. Usually he c'n find ANYT'ING." "T' Dodgehs jus' r'leased Joe Medwick," observes Alice. "Whassat got t' do wit' it?" frowns Sally. "Even'a great ones," explains Alice, "come t' t' enda t' line...")

(At least the liquor shortage is over...)

("I read awlaBOUT t'em t'ings," declares Willie, holding up a wrinkled copy of "Amazing Stories." "Lookit, Pap," enthuses Willie. "Neh," frowns Krause, considering the bizarre cover image showing a gigantic n ude woman rising from the sea to the astonishment of a tiny man on the shore. "Neveh min'at stuff," dismisses Willie. "T'at's t' bunk." He flips the magazine over, displaying the back cover's startling scene of a fleet of saucer-shaped craft disgorging a cargo of lurid red lobster-beetle creatures over a throng of terrified yellow gawp-faced aliens. "T'IS," declares Willie, "is what I'm tawkin'about! T'ings from OUTEH SPACE!" Krause takes the magazine and carefully considers the picture. "Neh," he repeats. He starts to hand the magazine back, pauses, flips it over, looks at his son, and looks again at the front cover. "NEH," he repeats, stuffing the magazine in his back pocket...)

(Uh, Leo, if I were you I'd find another seat. Just a bit of friendly advice...)

("A small town in the midwest. How 'bout you?")

(And so begins the legend of a great meddling team...)

(Hey Janie -- nice coat! You get that at Namm's?)

(Too bad you didn't read ahead and see how you escape!)

(It's good to have a solid plan for tomorrow...)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

"Baltimore's Picture Newsaper."

Page Four runneth over...

"Goo!"

Coming Events...

"It is NOT a nightclub! It's an AFTERNOON club!"

Sigh.

Don't start something you can't finish.

"Those monkey gland transplants work, I'm telling you. And the monkey will never miss'm!"

Sure, it's all going on your bill...

Cover up, kid, it's cold.