The Era -- Day By Day

[LizzieMaine]

Anna Kelton Wiley is a prominent figure out of the pre-WWI Progressive tradition -- an outspoken and militant suffragette who was jailed for her beliefs, and who also shared in her late husband Harvey Wiley's crusade against corruption in the food and medical industries. She doesn't deserve to be caricatured as a ridiculous pecksniff, but Page Four gonna Page Four.

What, this again?

NOW YOU"RE IN FOR IT

"Of course, we can't let this interfere with your schoolwork, right? HA HA HA HA HA! HAD YOU GOING DIDN'T I!"

("You have a maid?" "Well, actually, it's just my husband in an -- outfit -- but we don't really talk about that.")

(Do you have any idea how long it took him to get that hat to stay at that angle?)

Meanwhile, what about the folks back home? Did Walt and Phyllis get a telegram notifying them that their son is missing in action? Does the Army have any idea about any of this?

You really do have no will of your own, do you?

Hey, two cents is two cents.

Oh Lena, how we've missed you!

 

[LizzieMaine]

And also...

"Thank you for your service," 1943 edition.

 

[FOXTROT LAMONT]

Scarlet O'Neil needs Dick Tracy sharp.

Hat angle nonsense is throwback barracks swagger, still seen this day Tommy Atkins.

Mr Britten wants the Army does he now.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Maybe I was right afteh'rawl," muses Joe, gazing out the window as the rain patters over 63rd Street. "Maybe t'wawr WILL be oveh by Chris'mas." "You know it ain't," sighs Sally. "Awl we c'n do is wait. Oh, I meant t'tell ya -- Ma got a pos'cawrd f'm Mickey." She steps to the peg on the wall by the door where her bag is hanging, and fishes out a small manila-colored card. "It come afteh you left' f'woik yes'day. She wan'ed I should show ya." She hands the card to Joe, who regards it without emotion. "Krieg-ge-fang-en-post," he sounds out. "T'at's Goiman, huh? 'Post Karte.'""Yeh," sighs Sally. "An'nat t'eh, t'at rubbeh stamp onneh, 'Stalag V-I-I-A' is t'camp he's in." "Geh-buh-ren-frei," pronounces Joe. "T'at means, I t'ink," explains Sally, "t'at it don' cost nut'n t'send it." Joe lifts an eyebrow at this, as Sally explains "I took a yeeh a' Goiman at Erasmus." "Yeh," sighs Joe, turning over the card. "Kriegs-ge-fan-en-lager," reads Joe. "Whassat," he ponders. "Beeh?" "It means," continues Sally, rolling her eyes upward as she constructs a translation, "sump'n like 'of t' prisoneh a' war camp." "Oh," nods Joe. "T'ey don' give 'im much space t'write, do t'ey? Lemme see. 'Deeh Ma, don't worry 'bout me, I am fine. T'eh is a lotta utteh guys heeh, American an' British an' C'nadian and French. Awlso some Russians an' some Greeks. An' ev'n one a'two utteh guys f'm Brooklyn. Tell Sal t'eh is a guy heeh says t'ey neveh shoulda traded Coscarawrt. T'ey let us play bawl inna yawrd heeh, so if y'could sen' me my ol' glove t'at I lef' innat ol' trunk inna basement a' t'stoeh t'at would be swell. Nex time you see Hops tell 'im I ain' forgot he owes me two bucks. Ha ha. Love to awl, an' tell Joe he can eat my pawrt a' t' T'anksgivin' toikey. Love to awl, Mickey.' Well, 'at's nice of 'im." "T'ez sump'n funny 'bout what he says, t'ough," observes Sally. "Mickey neveh had no basebawl glove. He neveh played no bawl c'ept inna street, y'know, like stickbawl an' punchbawl, an'nee neveh had no glove f'tat. Why's he askin' Ma to send'im a glove he ain' ev'n got?" Joe gazes out the window into the sodden gloom of the afternoon, considering that enigma.)

War Mobilization Director James F. Byrnes yesterday turned over to the nation's number one troubleshooter, 73-year-old Bernard Baruch the highly controversial job of adjusting the Government's entire multi-billion dollar procurement program to fit the constantly-changing demands of the war effort. Byrnes appointed the industrial veteran of the First World War the chief of a new war mobilization unit authorized to deal with war and postwar adjustment problems and to develop unified programs to meet these problems to be pursued by the various agencies of the government. In his new capacity, Baruch will concern himself with the revision of current war contracts to meet changing needs, and with problems expected to arise from the termination of these contracts after the war. Baruch comes to the job after having brought order to the chaotic rubber situation in the early months of the war. He will begin his new duties on Tuesday with a meeting of officials of various agencies to discuss the need for uniformity in procurement contracts.

Speedy British Mosquito bombers continue the mightiest Allied air offensive of the war against Germany, with attacks on the western part of the Reich, following up on the second record Allied daytime raid in three days. Targets of the attacks were not disclosed by the Air Ministry, nor were any losses announced, but reliable estimates indicated up to 6000 tons of bombs were dropped.

(Never mind Sinatra, what about Mauriello???)

Five hundred and thirty thousand coal miners will return to work tomorrow following an order by the Policy Committee of the United Mine Workers terminating the fourth miners' work stoppage of 1943. Following a conference in Washington, the 200 members of the Policy Committee ordered the workers back into the mines without waiting for the settlement of final details of the UMW's new wage contract with the Government. That contract, negotiated between the union and Solid Fuels Administrator Harold Ickes, was approved last night by an 11-1 vote of the War Labor Board, with the exception of two minor points which "remain to be clarified."

("T'is is a pretty good ad," comments Alice, leaning on the second-floor banister as Krause stands on a stepladder outside the Ginsburgs' apartment, inserting a new bulb in the wall fixture. "Yeh," nods Krause. "On'y missin' one t'ing," she continues. "Y'notice on'eeh? T'ey ain' listin' no jew'lry stoehs. Y'don' see Busch's awr none a' t'em places." "Neh," agrees Krause. "Coese," Alice continues, "y'don' need t'go t'none'a t'em big stoehs downtown a' nut'n. Y'know who's got some nice stuff izzat Mawrcot's oveh on Sixtiet'. Yeh. Mawrcot's got some nice stuff inna windeh t'eh. Afteh y'get done. we otta go out'n, y'know, go fra wawk an' y'know, do some windeh shoppin'." Krause glances over at Alice, who hastens to note that the rain appears to be letting up. Krause is silent for a long moment, and then slips the burned-out bulb into his jacket pocket and steps off the ladder. "Yeh," he nods. "Yeh?" grins Alice, her Pert Irish Nose wrinkling. "Yeh," affirms Krause. "Yeh.")

Old Timer Charles Carroll Dominge, who grew up on Leonard Street, recalls the greatest thrill of his youth, the day he watered the elephants when the circus came to Williamsburg. He also recalls the old-time Indian medicine tent shows, and the special thrill he got when he was given a part in one of those productions.

("We cleaaned oop on thaat Army-Notre Dame game," chuckles Uncle Frank, leaning against a basement post and drawing with satisfaction on a Panatela, as Ma jabs with a hairpin at a rusty padlock on a mold-dappled old trunk. "It's no use, Francis," she sputters, "oi caan't get this blooody thing open." "Allow me, Nora," smirks Uncle Frank, delicately wedging his cigar in a gap between two wall bricks. "It's easy when ye knooow how." Pushing his hat back on his brow, Uncle Frank bends to the task at hand, his chubby but nimble fingers twisting the hairpin in the keyhole. "Well?" demands Ma, wiping flecks of mold off her hands on her apron. "Joost a minute, Nora," replies Uncle Frank, a bit of sputter seeping into his tone. "It's a bit -- stiff -- aaaaaaand -- oh." "What's 'oh," demands Ma. "Oi'm afraid th' haaairpin brooke off in the laahk," Uncle Frank stammers. "Really, Nora, ye shouldn't use those cheap..." "Well don't stannd there gapin'," roars Ma. "Go get ye hacksaw!" "But Nora," Uncle Frank protests, "me tools is ahl back at the shop, an' Danny took the truck oot t' Valley Stream. It seems, y'see he knows this gaaaaarl, aand, ye know how..." "None o' that now," insists Ma. "The shop is joost ten blocks up, an' ye got two big feet." "NOW JOOST A MINUTE!" blurts Uncle Frank, his pride wounded. "Take up haaalf the bed with those feet," growls Ma. There is a long and uncomfortable silence. "It's rainin' boockets!" exhales Uncle Frank. "Me raincoat will fit ye," notes Ma. "Ten blocks in a ladies raincoat," grumbles Uncle Frank. "Oi'll get arrested!" "Loike it'll be the farrrst time," insists Ma. "Now off with ye. Oi don't know what me Michael's up to, but oi aim to find oot.")

The Football Dodgers and the Chicago Cardinals will joust today at Ebbets Field in a battle of cellar-dwellers. and one of the two clubs may earn its first victory of the season. Both teams are winless two months into the National Football League season, and something's got to give -- unless the game ends in a scoreless tie.

("Yes sir, Mr. Dewey, sir, here's your coffee sir, just the way you like it." "I told you," fumes the Governor, "I wanted it in my moustache cup." "Sorry sir, it won't happen again sir.")

("Mebbe that paint was just a new tick cure." Nope, I've tried it and it doesn't work.)

("Must I wake him? He's napping in the bathtub again!")

(It's not so much fun now that Halloween is over.)

(I never figured Lord Plushbottom for a tyrannical boss, but I guess we all have two selves. And I didn't know that about swastikas, and now that I do, I wish I didn't.)

("Oh, you learn a few tricks along the way...")

 

[LizzieMaine]

And also...

("Commando-Conscious?" SURE BLAME THE COMICS!)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

"Don't drag ME into this!" -- The Cat.

"Sweater and slacks may be enough for Winchell, but I always dress to listen to H. V. Kaltenborn."

"A criminal face if ever I saw one!"

"There's something wrong with this kid. I wonder if she's on drugs?" "HEY!" yells Chester. "I'M HERE TOO! PAY ATTENTION TO ME!"

Moon is so behind the times. Everybody knows bookies are nice old ladies in candy stores. And someday Judy Wallet will be one of them.

Oh please. Hey Jack, whatever you do, don't take her on a Carribbean vacation. And I must say I've had to change my opinion of Mr. Chipmunk.

Kids Today. LOTS of Kids Today.

"Yeah, but I still hate you."

 

[Fading Fast]

Your public demands to know what is in the trunk!

 

[LizzieMaine]

I'm curious about that myself. HURRY UP WITH THAT HACKSAW!

 

[FOXTROT LAMONT]

^ ''Totem pole?'' He's already begun recon asking about Grett. Taking down land lay survey.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Heh," hehs Joe, "looks like 'at Frosch is goin' up t'riveh. Hey, whateveh happn't'at ma of his? R'membeh heh?" "Hm," hms Ma. "Oh, sorry, Joseph, I was thinkin'a -- soomthin' else." "Oh yeh," nods Joe. "T'at remin's me, I got t'at cawrd fr'm Mickey, Sal wan'ed I should give it back t'ya. Didja fin'' his -- uh -- basebawl glove yet?" "Oh yes, oh yes," nods Ma. "I'll be boxin' it oop an' sendin' it to th' Red Craaahs. Hope he gets it befoor th' snow faahls, I hear it gets aaaahful cold in Gaaarmany." "Moosboig," agrees Joe. "Any place wit'a moose in it, I guess is pretty col'." Joe slurps down the last of his egg cream and glances at his watch. "'Bout 'time f'me t'scram. You take caeh'a y'self now, an' Leonoreh, you help ya gran'ma, OK?" "Coun'tm nick'ls!" grins Leonora. "Goo'girl," grins Joe in return, ruffling his daughter's hair. "Awright, I seeya t'marra." Ma watches her son in law vanish across Rogers Avenue, and when she's sure he's out of sight, she reaches under the counter and produces a tin file box, its corners flaked with rust and its hasp showing the effects of the judicious application of a screwdriver. Opening the box, she withdraws a worn gray sock containing a small object of some weight. She peels back the sock to reveal a palm-sized automatic pistol. Deftly, she withdraws and examines the magazine, and, with some resistance, she operates the slide, causing a single .25 caliber cartridge to tinkle onto the marble countertop. She pockets the cartridge with a sigh and returns the pistol to the sock. She then withdraws a pack of playing cards, neatly tucked in its box, riffles the edges, and emits a quiet chuckle. "Gi'rummy?" inquires Leonora. "Pay cawds!" "Not now, daaarlin," Ma replies. "Later. Graaaandmooother's busy right now." "Busy," nods Leonora, returning to her examination of the newspaper. Ma returns the playing cards to their case, and next withdraws a matchbox, which she slides open to reveal a pair of well-used white dice. She rolls them on the counter with a small smile before returning them to their container and withdrawing the final item in the box, a small brown envelope. She scrutinizes that envelope carefully, front and back, and finds no marking, before flipping open the flap and shaking out its contents -- a single brass key, shining under the bright overhead light. "Op'n'a door?" inquires Leonora, her curiosity drawn to the gleaming object. "Not yet, daarlin'," declares Ma. "Faaarst we goot to foind out whaar that door is!")

Under fire both from labor and the farm bloc, the Roosevelt Administration's hold-the-line policy on wages and prices today faces the toughest of its many tussles for survival. In Congress, the farm bloc, supported by three of the Big Four farm organizations, is ready with sufficient votes in the House of Representatives to pass a bill that would outlaw rollback subsidies. Price Administrator Chester Bowles has warned that without those subsidies the price of a five-pound rib roast of beef would jump 23 cents, the price of milk would rise a penny a quart, and that butter could see a rise of 10 cents per pound. Meanwhile, in Philadelphia the United Steel Workers CIO convened with the avowed purpose of breaking the Administration's "Little Steel formula" regulating wages in that industry, with a view toward equalling the $1.50 per day wage boost recently secured by coal miners. War Labor Board chairman William H. Davis, in a letter to Vice President Henry A. Wallace, acknowledged that "organized labor has made greater sacrifices in the interest of economic stablilization than other groups," and declared that John L. Lewis nonwithstanding, labor leaders have exercised "wisdom and forebearance" in going along with the Administration's policies.

SIgns of growing unrest in Germany in the wake of reverses in Russia, and fear for what November may hold for Nazi forces, were joined today by the acknowledgement by a prominent Nazi puppet that German troops "would like to leave Western Europe" in order to make more forces available for the campaign on the Eastern Front. Reichscommissar Arthur Seyss-Inquart, Nazi ruler of Holland, said in a broadcast over the Hilversum radio that this month will mark "the great psychological turning point" of the war. Seyss-Inquart's remarks were bolstered by reports from Madrid and Bern reporing "German forebodings" over a breakdown and defeat within six months. Stockholm reported that Germany has devoted "everything it has" to trying to stop the advance of the Red Army.

(EW EW EW)

In Hollywood, wildfires threaten the homes of film stars in the fashionable Malibu area, as blazes burn across a 160 mile stretch of the California coast down to the Mexican border. The home of Paulette Goddard stands in the direct path of the flames as does the large house owned by George O'Brien, as fire fighters take advantage of slackening winds in battling the flames. Approximately 150 homes have already been destroyed by the fast-moving forest and brush fires, whipped by high winds across thousands of acres. Homeowners in the path of the oncoming flames are reported to be dousing their belongings with water in an effort to hold off disaster.

Mayor LaGuardia yesterday denounced Republicans for enabling the election of Thomas Aurelio to a judgeship despite his relationship with alleged pinball king Frank Costello. In his weekly radio talk over WNYC, the Mayor blamed the outcome of the election on Republicans who insisted on splitting the anti-Aurelio vote by endorsing an alternative candidate. The Mayor pointed out that more people in the Manhattan-Bronx district voted against Aurelio than voted for him, but the presence of the alternative Republican candidate so divided the vote that Aurelio was able to win with a pluralit, thus defeating the demonstrated will of the majority.

(7-0? Well at least they got the extra point.)

(You ain't seen nothin' yet.)

("Sid Luckman!" snorts Sally. "Misteh Erasmus Big Shot. I'm glad I was outeh t'eh when he come along, t'ey say he useta strut aroun' like he own'ta place." "Hm?" hms Alice from behind a mysterious, satisified smile. "You say sump'n?" "Skip it," shrugs Sally. "Hey, what's wit' you, you got a look on ya face like you been chlorofawrm'd 'a sump'n." "I wanna show ya sump'n," Alice giggles. "Take a pipe at t'is!" She peels off her glove to reveal a miniature but unmistakable diamond glittering on her left hand." "Wow!" wows Sally. "Whehd'ja fin''nat? You ain' gonna KEEP it awrya?" "I foun' it in Mawrcot's windeh," declares Alice, hurt by the insinuation. "Siddy bought it f'me yestehday. Two down, two bucks a week!" Sally's eyes widen. "Y'mean....?" "I DO mean," nods Alice. Sally weighs this news carefully. "How lawng," she begins, with great hesitation, "...until..." "It AIN'T LIKE T"AT!" snaps Alice, but her grin returns almost immediately. "It's because we WANNA, not because..." "OH!" stammers Sally, "I didn' mean.." "Nevehmin' 'at," gushes Alice. "It jus' happn't awlofa sudd'n. I says to 'im, I says 'ain'nat a swell ring?' An'nee says, you know, like he does, 'yeh.' An' I says 'I bet t'at ring would look good right heeh, don'choo?' "An'nee t'inks about it an' takes t'cigar out 'is mout' an' says 'yeh!' Y'know he's bein' serious when 'ee takes 'is cigar out' 'is mout'." "An'nat," ponders Sally, "is how he pr'posed?" "Ain' 'it roman'ic?" giggles Alice, turning her hand to catch the the dull morning light. "Yeh," shrugs Sally.)

(Reliable counsel is always important before leaping into life's vital decisions.)

("Tea from a glass? My dear -- are you -- Russian?")

(OH SHUT UP!)

(Your anti-robot views were bound to get you in trouble.)

(I suppose fleas are a souce of protein. JUST SAYIN'.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

"I BETTER GET PAID FOR THIS!" -- The Cat.

"Oh well."

"What's that painted on the front door? 'This End Up?'"

"Y'know, Sinatra's going in the Army soon, and we want to be ready."

"Tell 'em to find that dip who lifted my badge!"

Yes, *that* Jerry Lewis.

*More suspenseful music*

"These days? Like that's a problem?"

"Huh! Yuh call THAT a contest?" -- Annie.

Well, at least he's still around.

 

[Fading Fast]

Alice might just be at the right stage of her life and maturity where she'll make Krause a good wife. I think we know what kind of husband he'll be based on how he does his job caring for the building with a weary integrity. She'll stir things up now and then, but hopefully will realize that value of Krause, if he is who we think he is. Five or ten years ago, it wouldn't have been a good match.

 

[FOXTROT LAMONT]

Warrant Officer John Worthington was shot to death by Warrant Officer Carl Moulinie in the presence
of Mrs Elaine Worthington(?) who openly admitted having an extramarital affair with Moulinie; whom denied
having relations with Elaine but admitted holding the service revolver that killed Worthington.

A suicide or perhaps Elaine killed her husband, the above suppose is based on what has been revealed
by Dpty Attorney General Daniel Layton Jr. Locus was the Worthington home.

This particular legal stew is interesting. Made more so by Dpty AG Layton's election to go silent.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("I tell ya," exhales Joe, "if t'ez one t'ing t'is town is got plenny of, it's crooked cops. I guess t'ey can't awl go an' open saloons like t'at Behan did." "Ahhhh, Joseph," muses Ma, "'tis a saaad waaaarld we live iin when ye caan't even troost a man in blue." She is about to make another observation when she is interrupted by Hops Gaffney, sauntering in with his usual surly glance at Joe. Leonora greets him with a brisk raspberry, as he tosses his pouch on the counter. "Joost a minute, Joseph," pivots Ma. "Why don't ye take Leonora upstairrs farr me -- there is some caarned beef in the oicebox, an' ye c'd make her a sandwich. An'd make one farr ye'self before ye go to waaark." Joe catches the drift of the moment and nods. "C'mon, honey," he says to his daughter, "ya gran'ma's got sump'n t'do." "SPPPPPT!" interjects Leonora as they head up the rear stairs. "Listen here," begins Ma, her tone shifting abruptly from kindly grandmother to strictly-business as she reaches into her apron pocket and produces a shining brass key. "What de ye know of this? Oi found it with Michael's things." "Looks like a key t'me," shrugs Hops, nervously shifting his toothpick to the other side of his mouth. "Don't play the fool with me, Hops Gaffney," snaps Ma. "Ye tell me what I want to know, and be spry aboot it." "I dunno," Hops pleads. "Mickey neveh tol' me about no key, you know how he kep' t'ings to himself. When we was out on jawbs, why, it was like sitt'n next to a clam. Honest, I dunno nut'n about it." "Well." growls Ma, "it's clear he waanted *me* to knoow aboot it, and when I waant to knoow aboot soomthin' I usual' foind it oot. Where's them Leary boys today?" "Um," stammers Hops, "I t'ink Jimmy's out onna plumbin' job, an' Danny is eit'eh out makin c'llections out'na Flatlans. awr he's out wit' t'at goil he's got in Valley Stream." "You tell them when ye see 'em," commands Ma, "that I wan't to see 'em. An' they needn't mention anything aboot it to thar faather." "You don' wanna tell..." hestitates Hops. "I do not," insists Ma. "Now off to ye business with ye, an ye' keep yaar mooth shut!" Ma hears footsteps on the stairs and assumes a twinkling smile. "That's roit, Hops me boy," she chuckles. "Ye do as I tell ye, an' everything will be foine." "Um," shudders Hops., fiddling with his hat as he edges to the door. '"Thanks Ma," he concludes with a strained smile. "Ya awlways such a big help!" "Heh," hehs Joe, taking in the moment. "Jus' like Pop Jenks, huh?" "Ah," ahs Ma, absently polishing a glass, "he's a good boy.")

Attorney General Francis Biddle today proposed the creation of a Government mechanism which would provide loans for peacetime reconversion for any business enterprise "seriously embarrassed by the war." The Attorney General told the Senate Military Affairs Committee that such a program would relieve private enterprise of the burden of financial pressure in returning to peacetime activity while awaiting final settlement of war contracts, and would permit procurement agencies to proceed with greater care in making final settlements knowing that such delays would not block reconversion of a firm to peacetime production. Biddle stressed that such a program should make loans not just to firms bearing the obvious marks of war contracts, but to any business that has been affected by war production -- including those affected by their inability to get war contracts or material priorities.

Reports that German troops are patrolling the streets of Rome with orders to shoot civilians at the first sign of "suspicious activity" have been received in Lisbon, Portugal from travelers returning from visits to the Italian capital. Nazi soldiers have taken over authority in the streets after local police were found "unable" to deal with present conditions, which are reported to be "verging on chaos." Buildings in the city are said to be draped with banners outlining the orders of German occupation authorities ranging from a compulsory draft of civilian labor into Nazi war plants to the warning that any person found harboring a German deserter will be shot. Nearly all of the banners conclude with a warning that the slightest infraction of the rules will be punished by death.

Manhattan Republican Leader Thomas J. Curran has demanded radio time over WNYC to answer Mayor LaGuardia's charge in Sunday's weekly broacast that city Republican enabled the election of Thomas Aurelio to a judgeship. Calling the Mayor's statement "a vicious distortion of facts," Curran demanded that he be permitted the use of the microphone next Sunday at 1 PM, immediately following the Mayor's regular talk.

(In the Bedford Avenue offices of F. Leary & Sons Plumbing and Heating, Uncle Frank industriously cranks an adding machine, reviews the curling paper ribbon full of figures, and whistles a sprightly tune.)

Registration of the city's landlords will begin November 15th in preparation for the start of rent control. Yesterday, Louis Pink, former state superintendant of insurance, was sworn in at the OPA's Empire State Building headquarters as the new Director of the New York Defense Rental Area. Mr. Pink will serve as the primary administrator of the rent control program across the metropolitan area, and will serve at no salary. He declared upon taking office that it may take "a few months" to get his office operating smoothly.

("Hey," heys Alice. "What eveh happn't'at Red Skeleton movie t'ey made at Ebbets Feel las' summeh? Why ain'nat comin' out?" "Rickey's probl'y doin' t'editin'," snorts Sally. "He's cutt'n out Newsom, Medwick, an' Camilli." "Heh," hehs Alice. "Hey," she adds, with a smooth shift in the subject, "how'dja like to be me matron a' honeh?" "Aw," replies Sally, "I'da been hoit if y'didn' ask me. You know I'l be gladda do it. But -- do we hafta cawl it 'matron'? Makes me soun' like I oughta be woikin' inna jail." "Nah," nahs Alice, "you ain' nut'n like a matron inna jail. Ya too shawrt, an' ya too skinny." Sally shoots her A Look. "Um, at leas'," stammers Alice, "f'm what I seen inna movies.")

The Eagle Editorialist commends the U. S. Mint for its decision to discontinue manufature of the much-hated steel penny, introduced earlier this year in an attempt to conserve vital supplies of copper. Starting next year, pennies will be made instead from salvaged copper shell casings, much to the relief of "newsboys, cab drivers, soda fountain clerks, and others who have received steel pennies thinking they were dimes."

"Hmph, just like your father!"

("An' be warned, Walker -- once you got your hat on, DON'T FIDDLE WITH IT!")

Whenever there's an open managerial job in baseball these days, Bill Terry's name comes up. The man from Memphis most recently figured prominently in the speculation surrounding the fate of Leo Durocher in Brooklyn, but now that that matter has been settled, Terry is now prominently mentioned as the llikely candidate to replace Jimmie Wilson as manager of the Cubs. That particularl story would also place Bill as the business manager as the club as well as its field chieftain. Terry clears $20,000 a year at least from his farm outside Memphis, but he has made it known that, after two years removed from the Polo Grounds, he is interested in getting back into baseball.

(Either we have a case of strips being published out of sequence, or this guy really can see the future.)

(HERE WE GO AGAIN!)

(Jane is always careful to keep her seams straight.)

(Sure, Mr. Smart Guy Narration Box, go ahead! RUIN HER DAY!)

(America's Number One Hero Cat is just toying with him.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

"I have a Run-Of-Play contract!" -- The Cat.

"You offer me a beverage? Where were you in 1937? --The Dragon Lady.

"Oh, Lois, dear, it's all my fault, isn't it? I never should have given you that paregoric!"

And Papa had no answer.

"Sure! Ever hear of 'squatter's rights?'"

Yeah, that's how it always starts. Andy Gump says "Maybe I can help you."

Seriously, how does he do it? Wig tape?

Save your ammo, Sarge. It isn't like you can run down to Davega and buy more.

Obscure fact: Lord Plushbottom's first name is "Joe." Joe Plushbottom. Why not "Joe Plushbottom, Jr." "HEY!" -- Joe.

"YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND POP SHE'S A PROVEN AGENT OF CHAOS!"

 

[LizzieMaine]

And as I said, We Haven't Heard The End Of This:

Leo has his flaws, but he beats the Prince of Wales any day of the week.

 

[Farace]

One thing is really bugging me about the Little Orphan Annie story line: Warbucks, millionaire industrialist, leaves his ward with an old friend, who is clearly barely scraping by. Doesn’t it make sense that he’d have left some financial assistance as well, and have some money regularly forwarded for that purpose?

 

[LizzieMaine]

Warbucks, Dick Tracy, and the old man from "Bo" are in an eternal competition for the title of WORST DAD IN THE COMICS.

 

[FOXTROT LAMONT]

The Canadians in particular of all Commonwealth Forces mastered the tilted kilt which is set itself bereft assist.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("What't'ye MEAN y'don't know what this key gooooes to?" demands Ma, glaring across the counter at the Leary boys, who stand before her with their eyes down, like fifth graders summoned to see the principal. "Jus' like we said," murmurs Jimmy the Chest, "we neveh seen'at key befoeh? Ain'at right?" "Yeh," agrees Danny the Neck, his hands fumbling nervously behind his back. "I mean, a key's a key right? I mean, maybe I mighta seen a key LIKE t'at, I mean, it looks like any ot'eh key y'might run inta any day'a t'week, but t'say I seen 'AT key, t'at same key, any p'ticuleh time on any p'ticuleh day, well, t'a't'd be whatcha cawl, um, t'at is t'say, not really e'zackly -- uh -- wit'in t'realm'a possibilities? Y'know?" "Yeh!" affirms Jimmy. "I mean, sueh, maybe we seen Mickey carryin'at key an' maybe we di'nt, butcha know, like a lotta guys y'run inta, Mickey had moe'n one key, right? He hadda key t't'at room he was livin' in, 'nat jernt oveh on Nostran' Aveneh?" "Y'mean," inserts Danny, "t'at one up oveh t'dry cleanin'? Ov'ehn'a 500 block?" "Neh," replies Jimmy. "R'membeh, t'ey put t'slug inna lock onnim t'eh, when'ne couldn' make t'rent." "Oh yeh," nods Danny. "An'nen he moved in wit'tat goil t'eh, up onna t'oid floeh t'eh, y'know, a few blocks up? Oveh t'at stoeh sold occasional furnitcheh?" "Well, yeh," nods Danny, "butcha f'gett'n t'at didn' las' lawng, right? She caught'im wit'tat I-talian, right, an' she give'im t'gate." "Right, right," injects Jimmy, "an'NEN, he moved oveh t't'at foinished room t'eh awlaway oveh on Eas' Foehty-six, y'rembeh? T'at place wit'ta lan'lady awrways smellt like pastrami?" "Was he still livin'neh when'ney picked 'im up f'runnin'at crap game inna col'storage waehouse?" queries Danny. "An'nen t'judge sen' im t't'Awrmy? Awr wassat lateh?" "ENOUGH!" snaps Ma. "You boys ain't holdin' oot on me, aaaahr ye? 'Cause if ye aahr..." "Oh no, oh no," the boys stammer in unison. "Ye betteh not be," repeats Ma. "Now on ye way befoeh Joseph gets here, and not a WAAAAARD o' this to ye father? Get me?" The boys nod furiously, as the bell on the door jingles to announce the arrival of Joe and Leonora. "Hiya Ma," Joe greets, as Ma slips the key back into her pocket and assumed her most beatific smile. "G'amma!" laughs Leonora, before noticing Jimmy and Danny shuffling nervously. "Oh oh," she exhales, her eyes fixed on the boys, who flush, offer weak small smiles, and hasten to the door. "What'tem guys want?" queries Joe, as Ma slides his egg cream across the counter. "Oh you know," smiles Ma. "Joost waaaried aboot their future....")

Experienced Allied observers in London agreed today that the war will reach its climax next summer, with the final collapse of Germany anticipated a month or two after that, and certainly no later than the following winter. That conclusion follows on last month's near-confirmation by Prime Minister Winston Churchill and South African Prime Minister Jan C. Smuts, following a conference between the two, that the Allied invasion of Western Europe will occur in 1944. It is believed that the exact date for the Allied invasion, or at least the narrow range of time in which it will occur, was agreed upon at the Quebec conference in August, and that it was communicated to Premier Stalin at the recent Moscow conference. The scale of Soviet successes on the Eastern Front, the massive Allied bombing offensive now taking place over Germany, and the rapid deterioration of the German home front are all factors leading experts to an attitude of increasing optimism.

General Charles deGaulle and leaders of the French resistance today assumed full control of the French Committee for National Liberation, following the resignation from the committee of Gen. Henri Honore Giraud and four of his key adherents, and their replacement by followers of deGaulle, three of whom had recently escaped from Occupied France. Morning papers in Algiers predicted a revised statement of policy by the Committee will be issued shortly. Giraud, who had served alongside deGaulle as co-president of the Committee, will retain his position of the Free French armed forces. An official statement indicated that the change was made to "separate political and military affairs, and to more faithfully reflect the opinion of the country."

(C'mon, you two. Rent a hall.)

OPA Rubber Director Bradley Dewey warned today that the next six to nine months will bring the most critical shortage of tires of the war, and urged A and B card holders to cut their driving "to the bare necessity," because they cannot expect to get replacement tires any time "in the visible future." Bradley noted that the production of just one tire for a large bomber cancels out production of thirty passenger car tires, and with military needs on the increase, there will be less and less rubber available for civilian purposes. He declared that "all possible conservation measures" are necessary now, if civilian drivers expect to have any use whatsoever of their cars.

A 72-year-old widow fighting eviction from her Nostrand Avenue apartment has received another stay courtesy of Municipal Court Justice Harry Eppig, who pushed forward a hearing in the case until November 20th. Mrs. Mary Peters, widow of a police patrolman, charges that her landlords, Rubin and Rebecca Rudner, refused to accept her $40 rent check, and are trying to force her to leave her apartment as "an undesirable tenant." A representative of the Rudner family contacted by the Eagle last night claimed that Mrs. Peters has found another place to live and will leave the apartment on Monday.

(And eighty years later, it's still working.)

The Eagle Editorialist notes that Germany now faces annihilation, regardless of what Hitler manages to induce his followers to do -- and that the Nazis should well be terrified of the retribution that awaits them at the hands of the Russians, whom they have treated with the utmost brutality.

"Brisket? Well, that's pretty risky."

("Huh," huhs Alice. "Whassis mean, 'Sisyphus-like?' Whassa 'Sisyphus?'' 'Zatta disease a' sump'n?" "Nah," nahs Sally, eager to display her familiarity with Mr. Bullfinch. "See," she explains,. Sisyphus wazzis Greek guy, see, back in ya ancient times, an'ne was kin' of a joik, right? An' one day done sump'n'a make Hades mad -- see, Hades was like, I guess y'd say, he was t' Devil -- if t'Devil was Greek, OK? An' Hades has had abouta'nuff'a t'is guy Sisyphus, an' sez to'im, 'awright wise guy, hee's what's gonna hap'n. See't'at rock oveh t'eh? Y'see it? T'at big bouldeh? Ya gonna push t'at rock upta toppa t'at hill oveh t'eh. Now get busy! So Sisyphus says, 'ehhh, t'at ain' nut'n, I'm gonna show you!' So he goes oveh t'eh an' stawrts pushin' onnat rock, an' y'know, it's kinda heavy, right? Great big bouldeh. But Sisyphus ain' about t'let Hades get no satisfaction, right? So he pushes an' shoves onnat rock an'nee gets it awmos t'toppa t'at hill. An' Hades is jus' sta'nin'neh wawtchin', an'nee sees Sisyphus pushin'at rock an' he's awmos' got it up 'teh, right? An'nen Hades jus' pernts 'is fingeh an'na rock slips an' stawrts rollin' downa hill, an' Sisyphus hasta run right ahead've it t'keep f'm gett'n squawshed, an' it rolls allaway down'a bott'ma hill. An' Hades says 'I don' see t'at rock upta toppa t'hill. Get busy now, push it up t'eh.' An' Sisyphus stawrts t'say sump'n, an' Hades gives'im a look like t'is heeh, an' he don' say nut'n, he jus' toins aroun' an' stawrts pushin'at rock. An'nis goes on awl day -- push t'rock up, it rolls down, push it up again. An' fin'ly Sisyphus -- an'nee's awl tiehed by now, Sisyphys says, 'hey, t'is is t'bunk. I get it up t'eh an'it jus' keeps rollin' down. Can't we knock awf'fr'a bit, maybe go get some souvlaki? See, t'at's a Greek t'ing t'eat, souvlaki. Me'n Joe, we wen' out one night wit'tis Greek guy he useta woik wit' downa pickle woiks, an' had souvlaki. It's pretty good. But Hades jus' kin'a laughs an' says 'no souvlaki f'you, bud. Now get backta woik." "Ain' I eveh gonna get a break?" says Sisyphus. "You keep goin',' says Hades, an' he's laughin', 'you keep goin' till I tell ya t'stawp.' An'nee NEVEH tol'im t'stawp." "Wow," wows Alice. "An' ya know what else," concludes Sally. "What?" queries Alice." "T'at's what it was like woikin' at Woolwoit's.")

(It's always good to have a plan.)

("Aw, Mary, ya always tellin' me not to bring home strays, an' now look at you!")

(See, if Chester Gould was doing this strip, you'd see the dog.)

("Kay and Mae" turn to the dark side.)

(AMERICA'S NUMBER ONE HERO CAT TAKES NOTHING FROM NOBODY)