The Era -- Day By Day

[Fading Fast]

Well done Frank, even if Ma won't give you much credit. Sure, it's not perfect - but you moved a lot of pieces to better places on the chess board. They should have kept the original birth certificate, though, to show Michael as, from what's been implied of his character, I bet he'd be glad to take any evidence that says he's not a father and wouldn't dig deeper.

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

"Mary Worth's" next two months: Mike gets cured and then discovered Señora Whatever de Whatever is really an old hag and wants no part of her, so she shoots him and Mary becomes a material witness at the trial.

 

[LizzieMaine]

(It's Labor Day in 1944, so the Eagle doesn't publish, but work goes on in war plants as Sally and Alice bump along toward New Jersey on their morning commute. "It's comin' alawng pretty good, don'cha t'ink," comments Sally, holding up an almost-completed brown sock. "Kin'a big," comments Alice. "Joe ain' got feet t'at big." "Well," shrugs Sally. "I got a letteh from'im Satehday, said t'ey give 'im a new paireh boots t'at was too big. I figyeh t'is'll fill inna gap." "You didn' tell me y'gawtta letteh," notes Alice. "Nah," Sally continues, absently working her needles. "I guess he din' have too much t'say." "Ah," ahs Alice. "What didn' he say?" "Ohhhh, I dunno," sighs Sally. "It was a few weeks ol', y'know, so hawrd tellin' what was goin' on when'nee wrote it. But it was awlabout t'fellehs he's, you know, woikin' wit'. He neveh says nut'n too sp'cific, y'know, but it soun's like he's wit' some kin'a tank unit. Says he's awrways ridin' behin' inna truck, an' when'ney set up a camp he's gotta help put up t'is tent f'ra fiel' kitchen. An'nee says t'ezzis cawrpr'l t'at's a real good pal, sezzeh awrways tawkin' 'bout home. Sezzis cawpr'l t'inks Brooklyn soun's like a swell place, an'nee wants t'come visit afteh t'wawr." "Ah," ahs Alice. "I like t'heeh t'at," adds Sally. "Y'know, Joe'sa kin'a guy don' have a lotta frien's, but t'frien's he does have, y'know, like Solly Pincus, well, t'eh good frien's." "Didn' Solly Pincus push Joe inna brine vat one time?" recalls Alice. "Din'choo tell me he done'nat?" "Oh, well," shrugs Sally, "I guess t'at's t'kin'a t'ing men do whenneh frien's. Y'know? I mean, I'd neveh push you inno brine vat, but a coupla fellehs, why t'ey'd do sump'n like t'at." "I dunno," counters Alice. "I might push you inna brine vat. I mean, not like I'm LOOKIN' t'do t'at, we don' have no brine vats at Weste'nna 'Let'ric, but y'gotta admit it'd be good f'ra laugh." "I dunno 'bout you sometimes," scowls Sally...)

And with that, Sally works intently on her sock while Alice, with a playful snicker, snaps open her copy of the Daily News...

"Jeez, Sal," Alice resumes as she scans the front page. "It really is awrmos' oveh. Y'can feel it comin'. I betcha Joe'll be home by Chris'mas." "Ya mout' t'Gawd's eeh," replies Sally, pulling out a botched stitch. "I wonneh when'nel hit'tat camp we'h Mickey is, t'at Mooseboig." "Yeh," nods Alice, her face clouding. "Mickey too..."

"I hope Tommy Dorsey din' hoit 'is han' sluggin'at monkey," snickers Alice. "Hawrd t'play t'trawmbone wit'cha han' in a cast." "Neh," laughs Sally. "I bet'tat wan'no'woise'n hitt'n a big mawrshmelleh." "I seena guy once," recalls Alice, sitting back in her seat, "at Coney Islan', right? In one'a t'em sideshows? He was playin' a trawmbone wit't'is feet." Sally shoots a look, but offers no reply. "Yeh," enthuses Alice, relishing the memory. "Yeh. See, t'is guy was sitt'n wit'tis legs ben' up like t'is, right? An'nee's got one foot, you know, holdin' onna pawrt'a t'trawmbone'nat don' move, an' he hadd'a ot'eh foot hooked inn'a pawrt t'tat DOES move, an'nee was playin'nat song'neh, t'at sawng -- ah -- 'Lookie Lookie Lookie, Heeh Comes Cookie.' R'membeh t'at sawng? An'nee was pretty good too." Sally glances over, and just shakes her head. "Oh," concludes Alice, "not as good as Tawmmy Dawrsey. But I betcha he was right up t'eh wit' Will Awsbawrne."

"THIS time."

Walt has memorized all the APO numbers.

A little known aspect of the Pacific war was the extensive Japanese film-bootlegging ring.

Mama in panel one -- priceless.

Every now and then there are flashes of insight....

Believe it when you see the papers, kid.

I don't imagine that a guy with a face like that is going to worry too much.

 

[Fading Fast]

I know the woman who wants to adopt Annie means well, but even in 1944, adoption was no slapdash, red-tape free affair. Dollars to donuts that annoying woman is on the board that approves adoptions – her type always is.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Oh, it's noo use," groans Ma, her nerves and her arm both stretched to the limit, "Oi can't reach oondar tharr. Jimmy, you do it." "I don' see nut'n," protests Jimmy the Chest as he crawls on hands and knees to thrust his arm under the ice cream freezer. "Well a'carrse ye can't see noothin'," snaps Ma, "it's pitch daaark! Feel aroond, I know them booble gums rooled undar there when that bloody shakin' staaarted.""OW!" bellows Jimmy. "What't'hell!" He withdraws his dust-covered arm to reveal a mousetrap clipped securely to his fingers." "Ah," shrugs Ma. "I fargaaat that was oondar there." "Heeh y'go," glowers Jimmy, handing over a handful of Blony along with the mousetrap. "Good, good," nods Ma, counting the gum pieces and running inventory in her head before dropping them back into the display box on the counter. "I wish y'd get somebody else to help out in'eeh," protests Jimmy, brushing the dust off his suit. "I got me own woik t'do -- Pop wants me makin' d'liveries t'day, an' I still gotta finish doin' ya rounds." "Well if you KNOW anyboody," growls Ma, "you send'm t'see me. Ohhh, if Oi could get me hands on th' Hoppar right now..." "I neveh liked t'at guy," mutters Jimmy, straightening his necktie in the mirror behind the counter. "Awrways gimme t'willies." "Ahhhh," dismisses Ma, "he evarr shoos his roodent face aroon here again, he'll be saaahry. Boot Oi can't roon me oparration here withoot some help, an' until OI foind somebody Oi can TROOST, that help is YOU." "Can't Danny do it?" wheedles Jimmy. "Danny," scoffs Ma. "Ahhhh, carry me oot an' bury me decent. Danny's a bloody eedjit, as anywoon c'n see fr'm lookin'at'tim." "We'eh twins," frowns Jimmy. Ma blinks and returns the frown. "So," she scowls over the top of her glasses, "ye are." )

British and Canadian forces closed in today on the important Adriatic coastal city of Rimini today after a drive to within six miles of the southern edge of the Po River valley, while in the west 5th Army troops approached Lucca and Prato, less than 10 miles from the Tyrrhenean Sea anchor of the Gothic Line. Expanding the bridgehead north of the Conca River into a square roughly five miles wide and three miles deep, the British 8th Army infantry and tank units captured the villages of Misano, San Clemente, and Montegallara, driving into the suburbs RIccione Marina six miles south of Rimini.

American naval and air forces have destroyed or damaged 41 more Japanese ships and 107 planes in a four-day bombardment of the Bonin and Volcano Islands 650 miles south of Tokyo, it was disclosed today. Striking along a 4000-mile front, the forces of Admiral Chester W. Nimitz and General Douglas MacArthur hammered the Japanese from the Kurile Islands in the North to the Netherlands East Indies in the southwest Pacific.

("Ye SURE ye had noothin' to do with this bonch?" frowns Uncle Frank. "Certainly not," sniffs Inky Quinlan. "I pride myself on the inpenetrability of my work." "Ah," chuckles Uncle Frank. "Yes indeed.")

("Hey Sal," enthuses Alice. "You'n me an' Siddy oughta go see t'at. Bawrbra Stanwyck! She's fr'm Pi--East Flatbush, y'know." "Ahhhhhh," sighs Sally. "I dunno..." "Oh, I fawrgot," snickers Alice. "You ain' allowed inna Paramount. Jeez, afteh what, t'oiteen yeehs, y'tink t'ey'd letcha back in." "It ain'NAT Parmount," growls Sally. "It'sa BROOKLYN Paramount. An' I been inneh lotsa times." "Oh yeh," laughs Alice, miming the drawing of a veil over her face. "Hmph," hmphs Sally...)

(Coming Events...)

(A four-way pennant race in the AL? At least that's something.)

The Bushwicks have snapped a three-game losing streak and then some, sweeping a pair of Dexter Park doubleheaders from the Boston Colored Giants and the Atlanta Black Crackers. On Sunday they swept Boston 9 to 8 and 8 to 4, followed by yesterday's Labor Day sweep of the Crackers 7-4 and 11-4.

(Diathermy? Nobody'll be listening to the radio in THIS neighborhood!)

(As if Ma didn't have enough to make her cranky...)

("A MAID?? We'll see what the Newspaper Guild has to say about THAT!")

("AMATEUR!" -- Dr. Levine.)

(Why be passive aggressive when you can just be plain aggressive??)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

"What's a oit'quake again, Pap?" queries Willie, as he helps Krause pick up tools that have fallen from the nails suspending them above the workbench. Krause ponders for a moment, and carefully selects a few scraps of wood from a pile in a barrel under the bench. He separates them into two stacks, and clamps the two stacks side-to-side in the bench vise. "Wawtch'iss," he instructs. He slowly tightens the screw, and Willie watches with fascination as the layers of wood compress under the pressure and finally, forcefully slip apart along the sides. "Get it?" questions Krause. Willie looks down, sees a wide crack in the concrete cellar floor between his feet, and nervously jumps aside. "Yeh?" he queries. "Yeh," nods Krause.

GYPS! We've missed ya!! Get out another book, willya?

You ain't seen nothing yet. Seriously, you haven't.

At some point in his life Milton Caniff must've dealt with a film booker.

You and Doug, huh?

"Oh don't be ridiculous, that's a novelty cigarette lighter." "It is?" BANG! "Oh, sorry, maybe not."

From the ETO to the Pacific. Poor Skeez.

Really, Mr. Clark? Using Thomas E. Dewey as a guest star? Or is it that guy from Hellzapoppin'?

"Hm? No, sonny, I don't need a shoeshine."

I bet that spot by the tub is nothing but rot and mold.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Ye think Joseph's in a tank unit then?" questions Ma as she hefts a gallon can of Coca-Cola syrup up to the counter."Well," shrugs Sally, "he didn' come right out'n say so, but, see, I done some detectin'. T'at letteh I jus' gawt? T'at said awnna address 'APO 46.'" "Ah," ahs Ma, prising off the cap with a pair of slip-jaw pliers. "An' thaaat means Joseph's in a tank unit?""Well, nawte'zackly," concedes Sally."But, see t'ezzis gal out t'plant, woiks two benches down fr'm me, an'neh fawteh woiks at t' post awffice in Joisey City, OK? An' he knows what awlem APO numbehs stan fawr, he's gotta list. An' I asteh t'ask him, an' she did, an' y'know what she says 'e said?" "Thaaat Joseph's in a tank unit?" guesses Ma, tipping the can into the syrup dispenser and watching the thick brown liquid glug out. The scent attracts a passing fly, and Ma swings her arm. "Begaaahn with ye, bloody boogar," she growls, nearly losing her grip on the can. "Well," sighs Sally, "nawte'zacly. She says 'eh fawt'eh says APO 46 means t' Vee Eye Corps." "So," wonders Ma, tapping the lip of the spout against the edge of the dispenser to ensure disposition of the last trickle of syrup, "hoo d'ye get a tank unit oota that?" "Well," exhales Sally, "I seen inna magazine a map, an'nit show'd t'at t' Vee Eye Corps is oveh t'eh inna Sout'a France, right?" "Laaaahta troops in th' sootha France," notes Ma, replacing the lid on the syrup dispenser and draws a sample into a glass. "This doon't taste stale t'yee, doos it?," she wonders. "Have a taste." She hands the glass to Sally, who takes a tiny sip, makes a face, and indicates her approval at the correctness of the flavor. "Prewar," nods Ma. "Foonda coopla cans doon th' basement." "Well," Sally adds, blotting her lips on a paper napkin, "t'ey wouldn' put Joe in no infantry. You know Joe. T'ey wouldn'.""Infantry needs t'eat too," points out Ma. Sally frowns. "Yeh," she acknowledges. "Well, I t'ink he's inna tank unit," she insists, as much to reassure herself as to convince her mother. "He's ridin' in a truck right now, wit' awlese tanks up front, an'neese safe as 'eed be if he was sitt'n right'eeh right now drinkin'a egg cream." "Oi think," nods Ma, because she has to, "that makes parrfect sense.")

Plans for rapid postwar reconversion are being worked out beginning today by the War Production Board, working in cooperation with the Army and Navy, with early indications being that war-restricted goods will be back on the market within six to seven months after the defeat of Germany. According to one government source those goods will include "almost anything the public wants," with the only restrictions remaining those necessary for the continuation of the war against Japan. Acting WPB Chairman J. A. Krug predicted the resumption of civilian production will provide up to 4,000,000 jobs for war workers who can expect to lose war-production work when Germany falls. Krug anticipates that radios will be one of the first items to return to civilian production, with only an 8 percent drop in military demand needed to allow for the resumption of civilian radio manufacture at prewar levels.

Nazi war criminals will not receive asylum in Sweden, it was stated today by Swedish Minister of Foreign Affairs Gustav Moeller. Outlining his government's official policy on the matter for the first time, Moeller pointed out that Sweden kept her frontiers open to all seeking refuge, and 15,000 European refugees have already entered the country. However, he stated that during this war "there have been committed terrible deeds of such nature that hardly anybody would have thought possible in a world calling itself civilized. Such deeds were committed, above all, in occupied countries." Moeller stressed that his country will in no way offer any place of refuge to any of those guilty of such deeds, and if any do slip thru Swedish borders, they will be returned to their own countries.

("Telephoon slugs!" sneers Uncle Frank. "Hoo low can people sink," as he supervises his sons loading of cartons of repackaged cigarettes onto the truck...)

(In a cruel alternate universe, life for the Sweeneys took a bitter, bitter turn...)

(I'm all for a Mickey Owen Day. Just make sure he holds onto the Token Of Esteem with both hands...)

(Ahhh, the slippery slope...)

("Done with that fake??? NEVARR!")

(Jet planes? See, Hugo Gernsback was RIGHT!)

(Wait, why couldn't you tell his dad??)

(AMERICA'S NUMBER ONE HERO DOG is the apotheosis of loyal-- HEY A MAILMAN!)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

No wonder Sinatra quit.

"Hey Ma," queries Willie, as he and Alice review the Boys Department during an evening expedition to Fulton Street. "Howcome'ey cawllat a Pea coat?" "Uh," shrugs Alice, "I t'ink I hoid oncet it was because, um, because sailehs weah'r'm. An'nney weah'r'm when --um, t;ey wear'r'm when it's fawggy out like pea soup! Betcha t'at's it." "I'll ask Pap," sighs Willie.

Well isn't THIS interesting.

"Remember, your Texaco dealer can CHECK your battery cables for DANGEROUS WEAR and will TELL YOU when they need replacement! That's ONE MORE WAY way YOUR Texaco dealer helps you CARE for your CAR -- for your COUNTRY!" -- Jimmy Wallington.

"He's weak but likes to be considered honest." It's important when you live in a small town to know the lay of the land.

Skeez reads too much Somerset Maugham.

HOLD CANDY STORE MAN IN FORTUNE-TELLER RACKET

"Yes, but it'll sell quicker."

Yoo Hoo? And they're not even soldiers!

Dunkan was a film critic back home. Hey, ever run into Herbie Cohn?

 

[LizzieMaine]

And also...

"Never mind sending me a case," sighs Leo. "Just leave the truck."

 

[Fading Fast]

"Infantry needs t'eat too," points out Ma. Sally frowns.

Ma's no fool and poor Sally, the perfect example of the maxim that there are no greater lies than the ones we tell ourselves.

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

"nawte'zackly"

Just wonderful.

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

I'm all for a Mickey Owen Day. Just make sure he holds onto the Token Of Esteem with both hands...



The shame of it is they could rename the pending VE Day, Mickey Owen's Day and, still, almost all history will know of him is that third strike. It's not fair, but it is the risk you take when you play at that level.

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

"I'll ask Pap," sighs Willie.

Smart boy.

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

Some things never change.

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

 

[LizzieMaine]

("T'at's a swell book y'give 'eh," nods Sally, glancing over to the counter, where Mr. Ginsburg is leaning over Leonora, pointing out an elaborate illustration detailing the inner arrangement of a beehive. "T' New Wondeh Booka Knowledge," Sally continues. "I'm gonna read'at myself if I c'neveh gettit awayf'm'm." "At Abraham 'n Straus Mendel found it," relates Mrs. Ginsburg. "'Such a book,' he said when he brought it home. "Such a book for such a child!'" "I wish't somebody'd give me a book like t'at f'my boit'day," sighs Sally. "Ma awrways said I read too much f'my own good as it was, she neveh gimme no books, I hadda go fin' 'em f'myself. Useta go t't' Liberry t'eh, oveh'rawn Linden Boulevard. One time I got locked in afteh closin', 'n Uncle Frank hadda come down wit' Doyle t'cawp t'get me out." "May Oi have ye attention," rings out Ma's voice. "Oooh," interrupts Alice. "Look out, heeh comes t'cake!" "Yeh!" enthuse Krause and Willie in uncanny unison. "Ahhhh now," grins Uncle Frank, tucking a napkin into his collar. "But befarrr we dig in," directs Ma, "aaaahr guest'a honarr must bloo oot th' candles an' make a wish!" Leonora looks up from her book with much reluctance, glances at the cake, and demurs. "Do it lateh," she dismisses. "Gotta finish readn'bout bees." "Th' bees can wait, darrlin," chuckles Ma, gently drawing the book away as Uncle Frank lights the three candles atop the cake. "Goo ahead now, make a reaaal good wish an' bloo out the candles." With the most pointed eyeroll a three-year-old can muster, Leonora squints at the cake, closes her eyes, concentrates, and exhales a mighty gust. She opens her eyes, and looks around the store at the beaming faces surrounding her, and sighs. The wish didn't work. There's still one face missing.)

("Yeh," sighs Joe, bouncing uncomfortably as the truck grinds northward along the rutted road. "It's me daughteh's boit'day t'day. T'ree yeehs ol'." He glances over at the Corporal, who is absorbed in gnawing his jagged thumbnail. "You gawt any kids?" Joe queries. "Ah don' think so," snickers the Corporal. "But it ain' fuh lacka tryin', knowhutt' I mean?" "She's some kid," continues Joe. "So yuh keep tellin' me," mutters the Corporal. "Reg'luh Quiz Kid, yuh gonna say nex', ain'nat raaht?" "Eh," counters Joe, "she's smawrteh'na Quiz Kid. She don' show awff about it. At leas' not much. She don' go onna radio a'nut'n. Y'know, I useta like t' set inna kitchen'neh at home, an' read to 'eh outta t'papeh? Y'know, read t'funnies 'nawlat? Mary Woit', an'nat one wit' t' dawg, an'na Bungles, n'awlem? Well, las' time I was home, SHE read t'funnies t'ME. T'ree yeehs ol', can ya beat'tat?" "Reeemawrkable," eyerolls the Corporal. Joe grabs his helmet as the truck hits another bump. "Hey," he adds, " You was right 'bout weahrin' me cap undeh t'helmet. Makes a big diff'rence." "Ah ain' so dumb," shrugs the Corporal. "Not as braaaght as no three yeeuh ol', but Ah get bah." "Yeh," sighs Joe, wishing he were home....)

A night watchman at a parking lot near Fort Greene Park proved yesterday that the Golden Rule is alive and well in Brooklyn, when he found an envelope containing $1000 in cash and promptly turned it over to the police. George T. Sheen of 230 Dean Street was patrolling the lot at Ashland Place and Fulton Street, when he saw a passing man throw the envelope "rather digustedly" to the sidewalk bordering the lot. Retrieving the envelope, Sheen found ten $100 bills and a set of discharge papers made out to a merchant seaman named Herbert H. Vail. Sheen immediately took the envelope to the Bergen Street police station, explaining to the desk sergeant "I never for a minute thought of keeping the money, my conscience wouldn't let me." Police are searching for Vail, and will turn over the money once he provides proof of his identity.

In Mattoon, Illinois, a tall thin man wearing a skullcap who prowls in the night and anesthetizes householders with a "gardenia-sweet" gas sprayed thru open windows is being sought by authorities. Robbery has been ruled out as a motive in fourteen recorded incidents of mysterious gassings in the town, and police theorize that the prowler might be a "berzerk scientist" or a "mad chemistry student" with a grudge against the community. All fourteen of the phantom's victims have recovered without lasting injury.

Better grades of steak and roasts will go off the ration by October 1st, informed sources predict, as the Office of Price Administration review anticipated civilian food supplies for the final quarter of 1944. Utility-grade beef is already unrationed, and commercial grade steaks and roasts are expected to be in sufficient supply over the last three months of the year to allow for unrestricted civilian sale. Top grades of beef are expected to remain rationed, with most of the supply going to the armed forces. It is also expected that cheese, butter, and margarine will remain rationed. Of canned vegetables, only tomatoes will likely continue to require points.

(Prune juice off the ration? THAT'S A RELIEF.)

The Eagle Editorialist stresses that the shake Brooklyn felt this week was not an "earthquake," it was a "tremor," a mere wave not dangerous at all. And "very small waves they are, according to Brooklyn scientists and real estate interests."

(Next time, take a tip from Captain Midnight and give away a premium!)

(BRING FITZ HOME!!!! BRING FITZ HOME!!!! BRING FITZ HOME!!!!!!!!!!)

Although the American League pennant remains very much a race as the season moves into its final weeks, there remains no doubt that the Cardinals will carry the flag for the National League in this year's World Series, and with more than 40,000 applications for Series tickets on file, the club has officially closed down further requests. World Series tickets are sold only in strips covering each home game, and Sportsman's Park seats slightly over 34,000.

("I say, Senora, might I interest you in a -- revised -- record of birth?" -- Inky Quinlan.)

(Today's strip sponsored by Half and Half, a cargo of contentment in every pipeful!)

(Cabbies know every trick in the book.)

(Or you could just try a personal ad.)

(Poor, poor Kitty...)

 

[LizzieMaine]

Also...

(Shouldn't the wig get top billing?)

 

[Fading Fast]

Also...

View attachment 638118
(Shouldn't the wig get top billing?)

Kudos to Ms. Corby for calling a classic a classic before it became one. That's harder to do than it seems.

To this day, it's a top-five, maybe a top-three film noir and film noir, in 1944, was only just starting to ramp up.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

Ed Sullivan and Cab Calloway on the same stage. Let's see some aerials, Eddie!

"Coming Events..."

"And 20 year from now YOU'LL realize that NO fellow is any substitute for a good root beer float!!"

"Hm. Maybe I can't get a job -- but th' durn ol' law don't say nuthin' 'bout a DOG gettin' a job!"

Caniff isn't the only one who can do steamy love scenes.

"Sergeant Wallet, we have evidence that you are sending coded intelligence in your letters home. You'll have to come with us."

Fun Navy fact -- the Navy habit of calling a shipboard canteen a "Gedunk" is a direct "Harold Teen" reference, derived from Pop Jenks' famous Gedunk Sundae. Which, I fear, would leave awful stains on that nice white uniform.

While many people understandably would like to see Andy Gump killed, there's no need to bring Min and the rest of them into it. Oh, well, Mama too. If you must.

Sorry Burms -- game's up!

You know, you could just pull down the shade.

 

[Fading Fast]

"Sorry Burms -- game's up!"

Oh yeah, but Burma the cat has nine lives, and at least four or five left.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("So," exhales Alice, as Willie mounts a frontal assault on a quivering bowl of orange Jell-O, "awrya 'cited 'bout school takin' up? Jus' t'ree days!" "Neh," confeses Willie. "Heh," hehs Krause, scooping up the last speck of his own dessert. "Yeh," replies Alice, her chuckle somewhat forced. "Lissen," she continues, "t'ez sump'n me 'n ya pap wanna tawk to ya 'bout." "I neveh done'at," denies Willie. "Leonoreh's 'a one wrote'tat onna sidewawlk out front, not me." Alice shoots a glance at her husband, who responds with a quick head-shaking dismissal. "No, no," continues Alice, "t'is is about school. See -- ah -- we figyehed wit'choo goin' inna fois' grade, goin'a new school'n'awlat, well, we figyehed it'd be a good t'ing if t'ey cawl ya -- um -- Willie Dooley 'steada Willie Sweeney. Whatcha t'inka t'at, huh?" Willie's spoon pauses. "Howcum?" he wonders. "Well -- ahh -- " stammers Alice, "ahhh, I figyeh -- I mean, me'n ya pap figyeh it'd be less -- ahh -- confusin' f't'teacheh. See, ain' nobody heeh name'a Sweeney, right? But my name, see, my name useta be Dooley, Alice Dooley, OK? An' so when I sign ya re'poeht cawrd, see, t'teacheh won' be confused? Ain'nat right?" "Ya name ain' Dooley now t'ough," points out Willie. "Ya name is Krause." "Well, um..." Alice struggles, "t'at's right, but..." "T'en why can't MY name be Krause?" argues Willie. Alice glances at her husband, her eyes conveying a desperate request for assistance. ""Yeh," nods Krause. "We'eh woikin' awnat. Lotta papehwoik. Yeh." "Oh," concedes Willie with an indifferent eyeroll. "Guess it's OK t'en." Alice sighs with relief as Willie eradicates the last of the Jell-O. "Hey," she suggests, fishing a coin out of her apron pocket. "Tellya what, WIllie Dooley. Hee'hs a quawrteh. Whyn'cha run upta Schriebstein's 'eh, an' getcha Pap a packa Luckies an' see if t'marra's Daily News is up yet. An' get sump'n f'yaself." Willie grins his assent, pockets the coin, shoves out his chair and makes for the door. "Siddy," sighs Alice, as the door slams shut, "we'eh gonna tell'im t'trut' someday, right? AIn'wee? T'trut'about awliss?" "Yeh," assures Krause. "Yeh.")

The battered German 19th Army was making intense rear-guard stands today thruout south-central Fance for the first time in nearly two weeks, but failed to halt fast-driving American and French troops now advanced to within 40 miles of the Belfort Gay into Germany. All along the Allied line from near the Swiss border to the Saone River, Lt. Gen. Alexander M. Patch's 7th Army was encountering stiffening persistence as the Germans fell back toward Belfort and their Fatherland. In one sector the Germans even drew from their meager tank reserves in a desperate attempt to stop the Allied drive, but without success.

Carrier-based planes from a U. S. task force and land-based Liberators joined in a heavy assault on the Palau Islands 560 miles east of the Phlippines on Tuesday without finding a single Japanese plane in the air over the strategic base, it was revealed yesterday. The two forces under the commands of Admiral Chester W. Nimitz and General Douglas MacArthur caused widespread damage thru the islands in the Western Carolines, and set 17 small craft afire.

The greatest manhunt in history is underway across Western Europe as the underground Maquis relentlessly stalks hundreds of thousands of Germans who, their Panzers smashed and their transports gone, are fleeing in a forlorn bid to make it back to their home country before roving bands of partisans take bloody vengeance upon them for four years of occupationr. Maquis bands numbering over a million fighters stalk the roads of northern France and Belgium, dispatching summary justice against the fleeing Germans, with not only men but also women and children joining in the hunt, pursuing their quarry along roads, thru fields, and deep into forests. Dead Germans lie in heaps in village streets, left where they were shot by the relentless patriot armies in a wrathful uprising that deals out terror in reprisal for terror.

("C'n I come in too?" queries Leonora, as a nurse leads Sally into the donation room. The nurse nods in assent, and Leonora watches in amazement as her mother takes a seat, and the nurse quickly executes the necessary procedure. "Doin ya duty," nods Leonora solemnly. "Ma's doin' eh duty." "Bright kid," smiles the nurse as the blood flows. "Yep," nods Sally, her eyes squinched shut....)

(KIDS TODAY)

The Eagle Editorialist takes hope in the news that the War Department's partial demobilization plan taking effect once Germany is defeated will mean the return to Ebbets Field of at least some of the 27 Dodgers now in military service. Seeing Reese, Reiser, Casey, Higbe, Herman, Lavagetto, and the rest of the blue-star Dodgers back in their familiar flannels would do much to improve Brooklyn morale, "and would do much to lift the pall of gloom" that has surrounded the Flatbush ballyard in this blackest of baseball years.

(Pro football? Pfft, it'll never catch on.)

("And then I'll sell my story to the funny papers! Can you imagine? 'Mike Jones and his Electric Kneecap!' I'll make 'em forget all about Sparky Watts!")

("Harry J. Tuthill?" ponders Uncle Frank. "Nooo, Oi don't think sooch a man lives aroond here." "Luuucky," growls Ma, "farrr HIM!")

(DOINK!)

(Fall's coming on, you know. Aren't you cold?)

(LIttle known fact: many cats do enjoy popcorn.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

He's never gonna change, you know.

Decades into the future, middle-aged Leonora Petrauskas opens a dusty old duffle bag belonging to her late father, and rummages thru the contents. A wrinkled woolen uniform, nipped with moth bites. A bundle of V-Mail letters tied with a GI shoelace. A creased photo that appears to have been carried for months in a shirt pocket. And a heavy brown parcel covered with peeling stamps, addressed to APO 46. Leonora hefts the parcel and turns to her elderly mother. "What'ya send him, Ma?" queries Leonora. "A brick?" "Hmph," hmphs Sally, squinting over her glasses. "He neveh even open't it!"

There are reckless cops and there are stupid cops, but Detective Pat Patton works doubly hard to combine both of these distinctive qualities...

"Arf!" says Sandy!

A young woman I know spent four years living on Guam where her husband was stationed in the Navy. She didn't much care for the experience.

"I lost that partial plate in 1914 and I haven't been able to enjoy corn on the cob since!"

Don't go looking for something you don't want to find.

NOBODY LIKES A SMUG LITTLE PEDANT.

Willie and Mamie are the only comic strip couple we ever see in a double bed. Think about it.

Yeah, kid, that's a good idea.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("T'is ain'a bad road," observes Joe as the truck rolls northward along a reasonably-paved highway. "Ain' as good azza roads back home, but it'll do." "Ah thought yo' city boys didn' do much drivin'," returns the Corporal. "Ain'chawll got them trolley cawrs y'allways dodgin'?" "Well," acknowledges Joe, "I dunno howta drive meself, but Uncle Frank, he's gotta truck -- well, he ain't really MY Uncle Frank, he's sawrta Sal's uncle, 'cept he's actually kind'v'eh stepfawrteh, c'ept he ain' actually married to 'eh Ma. So -- well, we awl jus' cawl'im Uncle Frank. Less confusin'at way." "Ah," nods the Corporal, his eyes closed. "Anyways," continues Joe, "Uncle Frank's got t'is ol' truck -- real ol' bangeh, mus' be twenny yeehs ol' -- an' he -- well, I dunno's I awghta tell ya t'is a' nut'n, but -- oh, what t'hell, he useta be a bootleggeh, right? Durin' Prohibition? An'ee used'is truck t'run loadsa lickeh. In fack, I t'ink he STILL does it now'an'nen, y'know?" "Zat so," replies the Corporal, a mild interest roused. "Y'know, I usetuh dip mah hand in a bitta that muhself back home, you know, runnin' a bit'a shine. Nevuh got caught, we was too smart fo'um. 'Couse, thuh smartest thing we done, we cut in thuh sherrif fuh futty puhcent. That kinduh kep' th' heat off. Y'all got any kinduvva 'rangement lahk that?" "I dunno," shrugs Joe. "I kin'a keep me nose out'v'it. Safeh t'at way. B'sides, Sal dunno nut'n 'bout none'a t'is stuff, anna fam'ly kin'a wants t'keep it t'at way." "Huh," huhs the Corporal. "'She one'a these righteous sotta gals, is she? "Lips t'at touch likkuh will nevuh touch mine?" That sutta thing?" "Ehhh," ehhs Joe, "I t'ink it's moeh like -- if she knew what was goin' awn, she'd wanna run t'whole opehration. An'neh ma wouldn' stan' f't'at." "No wonduh," chuckles the Corporal, "yo' is th' way yo' is. Boy, yo' gotta luhrn t'put yo' foot down." "Neh," shrugs Joe. "I like my foot weh'rit is.")

A spark from an acetylene torch is responsible for an explosion on board an oil tanker moored at the Bethlehem Steel Company yards at the foot of 27th Street. The blast burned fifteen pump-room workers aboard the 15,000 ton tanker Galla, owned by the Texas Company, and it is believed that the spark detonated residual high-octane gasoline fumes remaining in the room after an insufficient attempt to steam them out. The injuried men were taken to Norwegian and Holy Family hospitals for treatment. There was no fire after the fumes explored, and investigators saw no evidence of sabotage.

A nine-year-old Greenpoint boy was killed yesterday in a bicycle accident near the corner of Lorimer Street and Nassau Avenue. Harold DIttmar of 961 Lorimer Street was riding north on Lorimer when he fell off his bicycle and his head struck the wheel of a passing truck owned by Liebmann Breweries Inc.. The boy's skull was fractured, and he died after being taken to Greenpoint Hospital. The truck driver, Sebastian Dugnagura of Ozone Park, was not charged.

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

("Or you could rent it out to a returning veteran! Nothin' is too good for our boys!")

("Glad to help, Herb -- now don't spend it all in one place? Hm? The Old Reliable? Oh, that's twenty blocks from here. You hate to drink alone? Sure, why not?")

(The Bushwicks draw better in Woodhaven than the Phillies do in Philadelphia. You know, I bet Fitz would be a great attraction at Dexter Park.)

(You really haven't been around here long, have you?)

(Equine Solidarity!)

(Ever notice that every single male character in this strip looks like they escaped from a Warner Bros. melodrama in 1934?)

("EW! At least take the pipe out of your mouth before you kiss me!")

("That's new, usually they throw an old boot.")

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

A few years ago my entire street was evacuated while a bomb disposal squad investigated a souvenir WWII grenade found in my next-door-neighbor's cellar.

Um.

YOU could be swinging on a star.

Hmph, just like a doctor to dwell on the negatives.

"How far along are you, dear?"

Jeez, Chili -- doing the Charleston?? Strictly L-7.

Right there -- COMING IN THE OPEN WINDOW!

Job's not over till the paperwork's done.

Davega must be running a sale on black undershirts.

"Lady play your man-do-lin! Lady sing your song of sin!"

 

[LizzieMaine]

And also...

"Hey," heys Sally. "You eveh go see a radio show?" "Yeh," shrugs Alice. "One time me'n Mickey went t'see Stoopnagle an' Budd. Mickey hustled Budd outa twenny bucks in a dice game inna lobby, an'ney made us leave." "T'eh ain' none'a t'at at no Rudy Vallee show," frowns Sally. "Rudy's got decorum." "Izzat a new woid," snickers Alice, "f' step-ins?"

 

[Fading Fast]

"How come Vail gets his lost money back with no hassles?" - F. Costello