The Era -- Day By Day

[Fading Fast]

"Honestly, who names their kid 'Kingery'?"

"Kenesaw Mountain" had already been taken.

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

I know he was injured, but he seems better, so any idea why Skeezix hasn't been called back for D Day?

 

[LizzieMaine]

I wondered that too, but I guess the best explanation is that King has to work six weeks ahead, so he's drawing these strips in April, when it's still up in the air when the invasion is coming. I remember a couple of times during the Italian campaign where he slipped in what were obviously drawn-on-short-notice strips to reflect current events, so it'll be interesting to see how he handles that this time.

 

[FOXTROT LAMONT]

Ms Horn married a gigolo in Miami. Still, her surname leads to wit which I'll refrain.
Just cannot make this stuff up.

Terrence didn't down scroll so I presume all is same as yesterday.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Yeh," nods Sally, sipping at her Coke as Leonora studies a comic book lying open before her on the counter. "Alice was tellin' me bout'tis. Krause had some business downtown yest'day, an'nee wen' right by t'eh, seena whole t'ing goin' awn. He knows awlabout gas, Alice says, 'cause 'e was inna las' wawr. Got right awayf'm'neh quick." "Oi'm joost glaad you wasn't anyplace near th' loikes'a thaat," sighs Ma. "Especially noow." Sally looks up with a quizzical expression. "What's so special," she queries, "bout now?" "Oooh," gulps Ma, scrambling to cover the remark. "With th' waaar aaahn an' aahl, an' -- ah -- th' invasion coomin', an' -- ah -- Joseph aaahf in th'sarrvice." "Huh," huhs Sally. "T'at's a funny t'ing t' say." "WHY," interjects Ma, desperate for a change of subject, "d'ye let yarr choild read sooch trash as that?" Ma lifts the magazine to reveal its garish cover. "Woondar Wooman," she observes. "Look at that. Leapin' aroond ina bathin' suit cut doon'ta heere loike a Cooney Islan' floozy. That's noothin' faar a choild." "Well," counters Sally, "Docteh Mink...ah, this poisson I know, he says t'at funny books is good f'ra kid's 'magination. He says t'is famous docteh he knows, t'is Docteh Zawrbaugh, he's writin' 'n awrticle f'ra medical joinal 'bout it. He knows what 'e's tawkin' about." "Hmph." hmphs Ma. "It was baaad enoough when YOU was a little garrl, bringin' in that nonsense you'd read. Oi remembar th'day you was sittin' roit here at this very coonter, an' ye was readin' some papar ye brung home aahf th'street, this "Baaarth Controol Review!' Ye remember what I done with that, don'chee? Roit in th' stove it went!" Sally shakes her head at the memory. "T'eh wasn' nut'n wrong wit' t'at papeh an' I was fifteen yeehs old. A goil needs t'know t'is stuff. It's t'twenniet' century, y'know! We ain' livin' on no fawrm in Donegal!" "Well," huffs Ma, "at least ye didn't take t'at paparr none too sarrious!" "What?" "Oh," stammers Ma. "Noothin'.")

A plan of reconversion to peacetime industry without the sudden shocks of widespread postwar unemployment may follow in the wake of the cancellation of contracts for Navy planes at the Brewster Aeronautics plants at Long Island City and Johnsonville, Pa.. Those cancellations, taking effect July 1st are expected to throw 13,500 employees out of work. Last night at the Manhattan Center some 5000 employees of the Long Island City plant attended a mass meeting to hear U. S. Senator James E. Murray (D-Montana), appointed to head a special Senate subcommittee investigating the Brewster case. Legislation to prevent a repetiion of such sudden cancellations in the future is now being formulated, explained Sen. Murray, even as he warned that similar cutbacks can be expected in the near future thruout the aircraft industry as the war moves towards its finish. He called the Brewster case "a test tube case of what lies before us in the days of conversion from war to peace," and he put on notice "those who believe war contracts could be terminated without planning or adequate notice." Also speaking at the meeting was Richard Frankensteen of the United Auto Workers CIO, who pledged to devote all his time to the situation at Brewster "until every worker has his job back."

(Sure, that works.)

(This is why it's a good thing to live in a very small house.)

(A salute to Mrs. Guarino, who lives up to the high standards of the theatrical profession.)

(Frankie Zak? Well, you know Frisch wouldn't give up Petey!)

(I like Warren William better with a moustache.)

(Well, it's certainly a rock solid case.)

("ANd I'm going to stand far behind you so I don't catch it!")

(These DeSoto cabs seat seven comfortably. Pick up a couple more and make it a real party!)

(THAT'S RIGHT KITTY, IT SERVES HIM RIGHT)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

Look, I know the News is a tabloid, and we have to take that into consideration, but do you really think a headline phrased in this particular way at this particular point in time is a good idea? Wouldn't "GAS LEAK FELLS 500 IN BROOKLYN" be less likely to cause, shall we say, wartime distress?

On the other hand, "HOT GALS SHOCK COPS" is the most Daily News of all possible headlines.

Talent is a very subjective thing.

An Injury To One Is An Injury To All.

"As I well remember...." Oh, Walt. It was eighteen years ago. Let it go.

Keep 'em sailin', Granny!

Welcome to Hollywood, Trish. #metoo1944.

Two hands, yet.

I wonder how Mamie got her head out from between those bars.

Those eyebrows! Ah say there, cousin, is you any ree-lates t' Dude Hennick, sho' nuff?

 

[Fading Fast]

I agree, but a tabloid is gonna tabloid, it's in its DNA.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("WHAT," whats Alice incredulously, "is T'AT yeh readin'?" She taps at the cover of the luridly-colored periodical in Sally's hand. "A funny book,"mutters Sally. "Leemee 'lone." "Whas'samatteh," snickers Alice. "Ya s'bscription t' Madame Oisle run out?" "Docteh Minkoff says I oughta let Leonoreh read t'is kin'a stuff," sighs Sally, resting the magazine on her lap. "He says it's good f'ra 'magination, but -- I mean, well, LOOKIT it!" "Wondeh Woman," observes Alice, taking the publication. "I'd say," she continues, "t'eh ain' much t'imagine." "Yeh," nods Sally. "Keep lookin'." "Oh," ohs Alice, turning the page. "What's she dressed up f'heeh? She's awl chained up an' whassat she's got awn'eh face? Some kinda leat'eh mask? What't'hell?" "Keep lookin'," instructs Sally. "OH!" ohs Alice. "Now what'sSIS heeh? Y'got t'is gal dressed up like -- I dunno, what IS t'at, some kinda lion awr a leppid a' sump'n? Eehs anna tail an' spots? An' she got t'ese ot'eh two gals heeh dressed up like zebras a'sump'n an'neh awl chained up in a cage? An' she's gonna WHIP 'em? My gawd, Sal, what kin'a book IS t'is?" "Funny book f'kids," shrugs Sally. "Ma sells a ton'f 'm oveh't'stoeh." "She eveh LOOK at 'em?" wonders Alice. "Not t'ill now," acknowledges Sally. She takes back the magazine and stuffs it into her overall pocket. "I mean," she continues, "I ain' got nut'n against most'a t'ese kin'a books, I ain' no LaGwardieh a' nut'n. I looked at a whole bunch'v'm, an', well, I mean, Supehman's OK, an' Captain Mawrvel, an' Batman, I guess he's awright, an'nat guy runs aroun' wit' a dishpan on his head t'eh, t'Flash. I don' min'nem. But -- y'know -- I noticed awla ones wit' women, t'women is awlways runnin' aroun' inneh undheweah. Well, 'cept f't'is one gal, t'is Mary Mawrvel. See, she's Captain Mawrvel's kid sisteh, an' she's got awn, y'know, nawrml lookin' cloe's, an' she don' mess aroun' wit' no chains an' no leat'eh masks, she just ups an' punches t'bad guys inna face. Real Brooklyn kinda gal, y'know? I don' min' Leonoreh read'na book like t'at. But t'is Wondeh Woman -- I mean, whezza social significance?" "Depends," snickers Alice, "awn what kinda social ya lookin fawr.""You ain' no help," frowns Sally. "Hey Sal," queries Alice. "Lemme see t'at book again.")

(Coming Events...)

Vice President Henry Wallace, in an address delivered in the Russian language at Irktusk, Siberia, urged close future cooperation between the United States and the Soviet Union in building a peaceful postwar world. A broadcast received in London over Radio Moscow summarized the speech, giving the first official confirmation that the Vice President has arrived in Russia along his return route to the US from China. "No two countries in the world are so alike as the Soviet Union and the United States," the report stated that Wallace had remarked in his speech. It went on to note that he compared the history of "the heroic people of Siberia" to the history of the Far West in the United States. He summarized by expressing the hope that "the friendship between our great countries, cemented by the blood of our best sons, will be strengthened still more after the war.

(Tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick...)

("Do we have any extra paper bags? I always run short of water balloons.")

("Uh," hesitates Mr. Parrott. "What's on your mind, boy!" demands Mr. Rickey, glowering across his desk from between his eyebrows and his thick spectacles. "Speak up!" "It's just that," Mr. Parrott hems, "well, you know, I used to be a newspaper man, and I know good copy when I see it. But don't you think, um, just with an eye to the long term, you see, you ought not to have said those things you did about Ostermueller?" "What do you mean?" demands Mr. Rickey. "Speak PLAINLY, boy!" "Well," haws Mr. Parrott, "it's just that, you know, our boys will have to go to bat against him, and he's got kind of a reputation for..." "Nonsense, boy! " retorts Mr. Rickey. "Are we men or are we mice? ARE WE? "Well, yes, sir, but," rejoinds Mr. Parrott, pulling uncomfortably at his collar,"YOU don't have to bat against him." "That," shrugs Mr. Rickey, "remains to be seen.")

It appears unlikely there will be any trading between the Dodgers and Cubs while the Chicagoans are in residence at Ebbets Field. There are rumors that Mr. Rickey offered Cubs business manager Jimmy Gallagher Arky Vaughan, but all Gallagher would offer in return was 37-year-old former A's and Red Sox star Jimmie Foxx, who is now playing out the string with the Cubs as a pinch hitter -- and only in the event that Rickey could guarantee that Vaughan would play. Arky, who famously led a player rebellion against Leo Durocher last summer, has made clear his intentions to remain on his California ranch for at least the rest of this season.

("Incidentally, don't you think the surgeon who did my chin implant does nice work?")

("You're going to wear that toga? Well, it's after Memorial Day, so I guess it's all right.")

(Settle down, Tubby, comedy relief should only speak when spoken to.)

(Fortunately, this cab doesn't have suicide doors.)

(If Trix lived in 2024, he'd be running a software startup.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

Clare of 1943 would have said "feed them globaloney," but her dislike of the British trumps political consistency.

You ain't seen nothin' yet.

RHIP.

You know, it's funny. Twenty years ago, Emily thought Phyllis was a gold digger.

At Fort Meade, Maryland, Pvt. Joe Petrauskas looks at the small brown parcel from Brooklyn marked DO NOT OPEN TILL JUNE 6, and places it gently in his footlocker.

If the Concerned Parents of Covina don't shut you down first.

It's the old old story.

Ask that swami guy, I bet he'd know.

"Hiya Daddy!" I bet he hears that all the time. Incidentally, that's not a halo surrounding Miss Muddle's head -- evidently Mr. Willard was unsatisfied with his original drawing and pasted a new head over the old, which then slipped just enough to create a visible line when the drawing was photographed for the engraver. You just can't get good assistants anymore.

MMMMMMM COULD BE!

 

[Fading Fast]

I've always felt that there was a hint that Alice like Sally, well, a whole lot. Not sure Alice even fully understands it. She did spend a few years "up state."

I guess neither Joan or Brian wanted to be the one "caught with a correspondent" so they settle on dust - really, dust?

Re "The Neighbors," we see frosted layers cakes sent to troops all the time in the comics, but IRL, mailing a layer cake like that - away from if the icing needs refrigeration - is a very tricky business that needs much more packing engineering than the flimsy cardboard box that's always shown.

 

[FOXTROT LAMONT]

Solicitous sergeants are non existent in the regular British Army. Terrence tucked in while Burms wanders around cobra infested jungle-and what/why she snuck off pesters reason.

The Belmont Stakes confirm post draw is around midnight London chime. Mercurial Fierceness is out ostensibly for the Haskell, Thorpedo Anne will likely enter the Acorn, but
Derby boss hoss Daniel the Mystick is anticipated Stakes for stud breeding braggart chance.
D. Wayne Lucas' boy Seise the Grey has been ridden down to the nub but The Coach is on
his farewell tour so his Preakness winner has to run the Belmont Stakes. On paper, Sierra Leone leads the dog pack although he's laggard for wins late. Lad's not getting the job done.
Mindset might be best bet horse to beat Sierra Leone. We will see.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("I don't get it," shrugs Sally, as Dr. Levine takes a seat next to her on the couch. The psychiatrist opens a small box and withdraws a stack of large square cards. "It's very simple," replies the doctor. "I'm going to show you a series of cards, and I want you to look at the shapes on the cards and tell me what you see." "An'at's gonna -- do what?" challenges Sally. "Just a routine part of the examination," demurs Dr. Levine, opening her notebook to a blank page. "Sometimes the things our mind tells us we see can be quite illuminating." "Yeh," shrugs Sally again. "Whateveh. Awright. Show me t'cawrds." "Very well," replies Dr. Levine, turning over the top card and handing it to Sally. "Huh," Sally huhs. "T'is one got roont. Musta got wet a'sump'n, looks like t'ink run." "No, no," chuckles Dr. Levine without looking up, her pencil flicking across the notebook page. "All of these cards are inkblots. The idea is that you'll tell me what the inkblots look like to you. How about this first one, what do you see here?" "Oh, I get it," nods Sally. "T'shape. Well, at'sa fox head t'eh. See, y'got t'nose down heeh, an'neese eehs up heeh, an'-- I don' get t'is pawrt, he's got foeh eyes. Zat got sump'n t'do wit' me wearin' glasses?" "No, no," chuckles the doctor, continuing to write. "What else do you see? Is there anything inside the fox?" "I dunno," shrugs Sally, "I can't see his insides, awlya got heeh's 'is head." "I mean the shapes the ink forms," continues the doctor. "Do they remind you of anything?" "Heh," snickers Sally. "Remin's me'a t'time we hadda new tableclot' an' I spilta bot'la ink awn it while I was writin' a letteh t'MacPhail about Petey." The doctor stops writing. "And who are they?" she queries. "You know, MacPhail, Larry MacPhail. You know, t' Dodgehs. Heeza guy traded Petey." "And who," presses the doctor, "is Petey?" "I dowanna tawk about Petey," mutters Sally, her eyes narrowing. "Hmmm," hmms Dr. Levine as her pencil flies across the page. "Very well, let's try this next card, tell me what you see here?" "Bob Hope an' Bing Crawsby," is Sally's immediate reply. "T'eh playin' patty-cake, patty-cake, bakeh's man. Like innat movie t'eh, t' Road t' Morocca. See, t'ey even got t'em hats onneh, t'em fez hats." "Ah," ahs Dr. Levine. "And what else do you see?" "Joe," sighs Sally. "I see Joe." "Where," queries Dr. Levine, "do you see Joe?" "Well," shrugs Sally, "he's gonna be a bakeh man inna awrmy, ain'ee?" "Ah," ahs Dr. Levine, closing her eyes and putting down her pencil. "Let's take a break here, shall we." She glances out the window onto President Street. "That's odd," she observes. "That same man has been standing across the street there all afternoon." "What man," snaps Sally. " "That little man with the big ears," replies Dr. Levine. "See there, he's standing there smoking a cigarette and looking at his watch." "Oh," scowls Sally. "I know what I see T'EH.")

In a surprise thrust eastward across the monsoon-swollen Irrawaddy River, British airborne Chindits have sealed the last escape route for the Japanese garrison cornered in the northern half of the beleagured Myitkynia, front dispatches said today. The Chindits, last reported some 25 miles to the southwest along the Mandalay railroad are now blocking the southeast approaches to Myitkynia from the village of Waginaw, five miles away across the loop of the river.

(A full nine inning game in an hour and thirty-five minutes. Well, sure, all the old coots had to be home in time for their naps.)

("Ahh, th' Ancient Arrdor of Hibernians," sighs Uncle Frank, puffing out his chest. "A foine group a' men." "You an' yarr cloobs," huffs Ma with a sarcastic twinkle. "Pootin' good money into dues so ye can sit arroon' an' play pinochle with a room fullar bloowhards." "Oh, noooo, Nora, ye wrong," replies Uncle Frank. "Oi never pay a penny in dues t'any of these cloobs Oi'm in." "Ye don't?" puzzles Ma, pausing with her dishcloth. "Saaaaartainly naaaht," declares Uncle Frank, draining his glass. "They take it oot in trade!")

(I think the ad for the Valley Stream Drive In is the first we've seen since the war started, or at least the first I remember. I wonder if the OPA will be taking tickets!)

(And the Sunday Eagle comic section, alas, is missing today. Sorry, no Fritzi Ritz pinups till next week.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

Tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick....

I do not believe in the literal existance of a fire-and-brimstone hell, but if I did, there would be a seat waiting for Joseph Williams of 329 88th Street.

Upper left: Leonora sure is growing fast.

LIsten kids, when you're a radio actress nobody CARES what you look like.

That's not how you use a rug to get rid of someone. Amatchoors. And I'm sitting here trying to figure out the physics of Cindy's punch there, but then I realized if Mosely doesn't care, why should I?

Turpentine? Try acetone, it works faster.

I've been waiting a whole month to see the octopus -- and that's it????

Actually, after all these years you'd think he'd be a master of that.

Yep, we were like this in my neighborhood too.

"Snake Tumblin?"

 

[LizzieMaine]

And also...

Never mind this politics junk, will the Dodgers win the World Series?

 

[Fading Fast]

"... I was writin' a letteh t'MacPhail about Petey." The doctor stops writing. "And who are they?" she queries. "You know, MacPhail, Larry MacPhail. You know, t' Dodgehs. Heeza guy traded Petey." "And who," presses the doctor, "is Petey?" "I dowanna tawk about Petey," mutters Sally, her eyes narrowing. "Hmmm," hmms Dr. Levine as her pencil flies across the page...."

Sally, now is probably not the time to tell the good doctor about the radios going through the window.


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


And another Triple Crown that wasn't.


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


"I think the ad for the Valley Stream Drive In is the first we've seen since the war started, or at least the first I remember. I wonder if the OPA will be taking tickets!"

Think anyone will have his or her clothes on in those cars?


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

"And the Sunday Eagle comic section, alas, is missing today. Sorry, no Fritzi Ritz pinups till next week."

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


"I do not believe in the literal existance of a fire-and-brimstone hell, but if I did, there would be a seat waiting for Joseph Williams of 329 88th Street."

Right next to the people who sell fake cancer drugs.


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


Poor Burma.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Thanks be t'Gaaahd, it'll aaahl be ovarr soon," declares Ma. "Before they send Joseph ovarr." "Don' change t'subjec', Ma," snaps Sally, glowering across the counter. "I know you use him t'run errands. I wanna know why he's follehrin' me aroun'!" "Oi told ye once," exhales Ma, slapping the paper down on the counter, "it's joost a coincidence! Maybe he was wait'n f'ra trolley carrr!" "Two blawks awayfr'm'na stop??? roars Sally. "Gonna be a lawng wait!" Leonora looks up from her comic book and frowns. "Be quiet," she admonishes, jabbing the magazine with a finger. "Try'n conc'trate." "Look," resumes Sally, after a deep breath. "I dowanna stawrt no fight, but t'at Hops Gaffney gives me t'heebie jeebies. When'nee useta run aroun' wit' Mickey he useta try t' floit wit' me. I'd tell'im t' hit t' bricks an'need say 'ooooh yeah baby, I like'm spicy." An' Mickey'd stan'neh'rn laugh. An' I'd say 'I ain't strawng f'rodents, so scram.' An'need do t'is heeh wit' his teet' an' go awff laughin'. I dunno why you even keep 'im aroun'. But I'll tell ya t'is..." What Sally intends to tell, however, is lost in the moment as the screen door squeaks open to admit the Hopper himself. Ma tries to catch his eye, shakes her head, and points to the door, but she is too late, as Sally's eyes lock on her target. "Lissen, you!" she snarls, leaping off her stool to confront him. "You eit'eh loin t'mine y'own business, an' stawp fallehrin' me aroun', or I'm gonna take t'em eehs, tie 'em aroun' ya kneecaps, an' bounce ya downa street like a basketbawl! YA GET ME? C'mon, honey," she concludes, grabbing her daughter by the hand. "We'eh goin' home -- ALONE." Hops glares after her as they exit, and then turns to face a far more terrifying glare from Ma....)

Approximately 100 uniformed patrolment and plainclothes detectives will be detailed tomorrow to guard the polls during tomorrow's special election in Brooklyn's 4th Congressional District, although the election itself is expected to be a quiet one. Assistant District Attorney John J. Rooney is the nominee of both the Democratic and American Labor Parties, opposed by Republican William J. Nolan. The two candidates are competing for the unexpired portion of the term of the late Rep. Thomas J. Cullen, member of the House Ways and Means Committee, who was one of President Roosevelt's staunchest Congressional allies. The 4th District includes the neighborhoods of Gowanus and Sunset Park, and the waterfront section of South Brooklyn.

Mayor LaGuardia is urging all Americans planning vacations this summer to take them at home. In his weekly radio broadcast over WNYC, a portion of which was picked up for a nationwide audience by the Blue Network, the Mayor, speaking in his capacity as chairman of the Conference of Mayors of the United States, noted that with the impending invasion, the Army has first call on all transportation facilities for the movement of troops, and travelers who vacation far from home may very well find themselves stranded with no way to get back.

("Aw, I'm tiehed," sighs Alice," flopping back in her armchair with the Eagle in her lap, as Krause scans across the radio dial. "I dowanna go t'no pitcheh show t'night. Les' stay in, lissen t'what t' Pres'dent's got t'say 'bout Rome. We c'n go t'wa show t'marra night. Hey, le's go oveh t' t' Colony t'eh, go see 'One Frightened Night.' Nut'n like a good horreh pitcheh, huh?" "Yeh," replies Krause, as the voice of H. V. Kaltenborn clips thru the air with a summation of the war situation...)

(Tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick....)

(You know, he does have a point.)

(If the Leaning Tower of Flatbush is no longer hustling, what hope is there for the rest of the season. WONDER HOW CAMILLI'S DOING IN OAKLAND????)

(Speaking of 'tick tick tick tick tick...')

("The law is such an ass." -- Geo. Chapman, "Revenge For Honour," 1654.)

(The horse isn't impressed either.)

(EIther way you'll have a lot of laughs.)

(See how easy life can be when you JUST DON'T CARE?)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

"If you see a clean gas station, please stop!"

And Tommy Manville laughed and laughed...

Yeah, since the war you just can't GET spats like that.

Aren't you getting a little warm in that jacket?

"And please, none of this 'Mr. Horn.' My friends call me 'Horny.'"

"Nothing like when WE were kids. Hey, can you still do the Egyptian Shimmy?"

Compromise, as in, hey there's a Notary Public!

"Aaaaarrrrrrr, that I be!" "What?" "Nut'n."

The Rev. Kayo Mullins, D. D.

"Is that YOUR dress?" Oh, stop!

 

[Fading Fast]

"Aren't you getting a little warm in that jacket?"

It's been how many days - weeks? - since Burma has had a bath? She's probably pretty, umm, "earthy" as it is right now, not that the tiger will mind.

 

[FOXTROT LAMONT]

"Aren't you getting a little warm in that jacket?"

It's been how many days - weeks? - since Burma has had a bath? She's probably pretty, umm, "earthy" as it is right now, not that the tiger will mind.

Tigers come in many and most varied stripe; including human form.
Burms running quixotically off into the enchanted forest with lions, tigers, and bears still puzzles.

Speaking of form, Sierra Leone is the Belmont Stakes stud-on paper; yet lacks a tiger eyed aggressive ruthlessness to run down his competition, so I am looking to beat him.
And Friday's Acorn fillies race has a definite bifurcated mixed bag sort with runners and walkers.

 

[LizzieMaine]

(A ragged scream pierces the pre-dawn murk as Sally's eyes snap open. Startled by the interruption, Stella the Cat thumps to the floor and scurries to safety under the bed. "MAAAAAAA," wails Leonora. The luminous hands of the Baby Ben on the nightstand stand shortly after 3:30 AM as Sally snaps on the light, lurches out of bed, and around the rickety Chinese screen separating her daughter's bed from the rest of the tiny bedroom. The scream repeats, and Sally jerks open the window, to see apartment lights snapping on all along the block. "Missis Nucci!" shouts Sally, jerking up the window and leaning out in an effort to see the apartment above. "IT'S HAPPENIN'" comes a hoarse voice from the window above. "Th' INVASION!" A car horn honks in the distance, then another. Lights snap on all along 63rd Street as Sally jerks down the window, picks up her squirming daughter, and races to the kitchen, where she snaps on the radio. A pounding at the door reveals Alice standing in the hallway, draped in a voluminous cotton nightgown. "You HOID?" she pants. "YOU HOID? T' INVASION's AWN!" "Yeh," adds her husband, appearing behind her in a remarkable bathrobe."Up there!" rasps a piping voice from the floor below. "Pipe DOWN, thank you!" "It's t'INVASION, Misteh G," shouts Alice down the stairs.There is a rattle of latch and a squeaking of door, followed by the appearance of Mr. and Mrs. Ginsburg, their voices thick with sleep. "Invasion?" gasps Mrs. Ginsburg. "Hodu l'hashem," she murmurs. "She said," nods Mr. Ginsburg. "The radio..?" "C'm in, c'm in, beckons Sally, "I got it onna radio! Lissen!" "Soldiers and sailors of Western Europe," comes a calm Midwestern voice, burbling under shortwave static. "You are about to embark on a great crusade......." But the speaker's words are drowned out by a blaring of car horns, and in the distance, the ringing of a church bell, as six pairs of ears strain to follow....)

("Remembarrr this, boy," instructs Uncle Frank, gazing down at Willie, his head cocked sleepily at the radio as General Eisenhower continues his speech. "Remembarr this farr th' rest a' ye loife," he continues, as Ma, her hands wringing the hem of her nightgown, gazes at a framed photo of her son atop the radio cabinet, and uncharacteristically murmurs a quiet prayer. At that same moment, in Moosburg, Germany, huddling in a rough wooden barracks behind barbed wire, Private Michael Sweeney fiddles with a safety pin attached to a blue safety-razor blade, and presses a stolen headphone to his ear...)

(On the night shift at the Sperry Gyroscope Company's Bush Terminal plant, a radio blares loud over the factory floor as Miss Kaplan and Mozelewski bend over their benches, straining to hear over the sound of the grinding machinery. Miss Kaplan glances up at the enormous honor roll hanging on a far wall, and her eyes rest for just a moment on the name of Joseph Petrauskas. Meanwhile, at Fort Meade, Maryland not a word is heard as Joe stands in his underwear in a recration room listening to the bulletins come in, and wonders where his old pal Solly Pincus is during all this. Aboard an eastbound troop ship, Corporal Pincus wonders where he soon will be.....)

(Somehow even baseball seems very far away...)

(You sap, you ineffabl sap.)

(Some of these theatre critics are pretty tough.)

(Look kid, you've heard of "pay to play," right?)

(And they didn't even pay for their ride!)

(When opportunity knocks, you better answer!)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And also....

(Better have a good patriotic medley ready for tonight...)