The Era -- Day By Day

[FOXTROT LAMONT]

Caniff's strip is of a deeper cut than most comics, similar to Rousseau and other Enlightenment philosophers who burrowed deeply in fields of thought that easily consumed
Ayn Rand whom became a campus literary fetish rather than muse. Well, Burma's wick was lit
and now she's all wax and no fire. And Milty is backing away with the baloney buckaroo John Bullshit. And our lad asking rubbish query like some castrated harem eunuch no less sure.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("We have some interesting findings," comments Dr. Minkoff, as Leonora, seated on the floor, turns the pages of the Sunday Eagle. "It's difficult to do a comprehensive test given your daughter's age, but we've determined that her reading comprehension is now approximately 1-B level, possibly close to 2-A. You say she started to manifest these abilities about a year ago?" "Yeh," nods Sally, glancing down at her daughter. "Like I said, she stawrted in read'n billboehds aroun' las' summeh." "Right," nods Dr. Minkoff. "Well, we estimate at her current rate of progression, that by the time she is ready to enter public school she might very well be reading at a sixth-grade level, or possibly even higher." "Oh," replies Sally, absorbing this information carefully. "I was readin' pretty good at t'at age myself, but I dunno what grade 'zackly. T'ey tawked about skippin' me a couple t'imes, but Ma wouldn' stan'fawr it." "So you've said," nods Dr. Minkoff. "We've reviewed your school records, and we'd like for you to take a few tests yourself, if you'd agree to it." "Oh," replies Sally. "Whattaya mean, t'see if I'm smawrt too? Of coehse I'm smawrt, I went t' Erasmus. What I wanna know is just how smawrt Leonoreh is." "As I say," resumes Dr. Minkoff. "It's difficult to administer conventional testing for a child Leonora's age, but from what we've been able to gather so far, her intelligence quotient -- her I. Q., as you might have heard it called, could very possibly fall somewhere between 180 and 200." "Izzat good?" queries Sally. Dr. Minkoff exhales. "It means that your daughter is not merely gifted. Again, we can't really give her a full test because of her age, and not all of her abilities have developed to the extent of her reading comprehension, but what we've seen so far suggests that she may be what we would classify as *profoundly* gifted." "Y'mean," ventures Sally, "she's whatchacawl -- well, like a genius?" "Well, that's more of a layman's term," comments Dr. Minkoff, "and we no longer use it in any technical or professional sense, but -- well, in lay terms, you could probably say that, yes." Sally is silent for a long moment. Dr. Minkoff clears his throat and continues. "Mrs. Petrauskas, raising a child like Leonora is going to be fraught with challenges as she gets older and begins to explore her environment. She will need -- outlets. You may need to consider whether public school will offer the sort of learning environment she'll require. And you and your husband may need some help in making the sort of decisions that will most benefit her as she develops. Dr. Zorbaugh and I both agree that...." "P'o-foun'ly gifted," interjects Leonora, without looking up. "I need some help right now," declares Sally, exhaling a deep breath. "F'me, I mean. Some t'ings's been happenin'." "Ah," nods Dr. Minkoff...)

The people of Gaeta, Italy crept down out of their hiding places in the hills today to throw flowers into the jeeps and command cars of the Americans. The Germans fled Gaeta on Friday without firing a shot after the American breakthru at Formia, and today the main body of Americans was streaming thru the smouldering battle-scarred town.

("Hmmm," hmms Uncle Frank, scanning the page laid out on the counter before him. "Ye think p'raps Mickey's on thaaat ship?" "Oi've had no telegram," sighs Ma. "Ye'd think tharr'd be a telegram if they'd exchanged 'im oot." "He'll be foine regardless," consoles Uncle Frank, patting Ma's hand. "Mickey's a survoiver. Of carrse," he sighs, with a glance at Willie, gazing out the window in anticipation of a visit from the Krauses, "when he DOES coom home, things'll get caaaahmplicated." "Things with Michael's aaahlways been caahmplicated," exhales Ma. "Unc' Siddy!" shouts Willie, seeing the Krauses crossing Rogers Avenue. Yipping with excitement, the boy races out to greet them. "It's what's best farr th' boy," Ma sighs, "that's impaaartn't.")

In Salt Lake City, Utah fifteen polygamists rejoiced yesterday after they were convicted of unlawful cohabitation with a total of 55 plural wives, and proclaimed that thay had "prayed" to be found guilty so that they might take their case to the Supreme Court. Judge Ran Van Cott will sentence the fifteen defendants next week, to terms of up to five years in prison each. While the defendants quoted the sayings of Brigham Young in defending their actions, it was emphasized that they are not members of the Mormon Church, which disavowed polygamy fifty-four years ago.

(Hope, springing eternal...)

The colored World Champion Washington-Homestead Grays will continue their battle with the Negro National League-leading Newark Eagles this afternoon in a doubleheader at Ebbets Field. Six-foot-four-inch Johnny Johnson will start for the Grays in the opener, against Newark's Jimmy Hill. Pitchers for the second game have not yet been announced, but Brooklyn's own Fred Ziegler is a possibility to start the nightcap for Newark. Various Brooklyn colored societies will lead a parade to the ballpark preceding the games, led by the Third Separate Battalion of the New York State National Guard, commanded by Major Myles A. Paige, who is in civilian life a Special Sessions justice.

(Seems to be the season for drowning villains. Hope Cheery doesn't try to swim for it.)

(The Rabbit From Marketing.)

(I wonder if dropping cane toads in Florida will lead to any long term ecological threats? NAHHHHH.)

(Ernie Bushmiller is a happily married man. Ernie Bushmiller is a happily married man. Ernie Bushmiller is a happily married man...)

("Now why didn't *I* think of this! -- Leo.)

(And Governor Cross was never bothered by reporters...)

("Oh, and I've read everything Ursula Parrott ever wrote!")

 

[LizzieMaine]

And meanwhile...

("Oh," sighs Solly.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

Jeeeezuz.

And not only does he infest your closet, he's also now infesting your radio with his singing jingle: "You've all heard of Johnny Moth, who loves to eat fur coats and cloth..." until you feel the holes forming in your brain. "CAL-e-DO-ni-a Five Four Five HUN-dred!"

What, no divorce lawyer?

Um, is this how the Navy works? Is this REALLY how the Navy works?

"DON'T CALL ME MADAM! I'm not Polly Adler!"

Honestly, Willie would have fit right in as one of Uncle Robbie's Daffy Dodgers. And I've always appreciated the way Bull Moose always carefully thinks thru to a reasoned solution.

Judy has a future in big business. And you can just imagine Cindy always goes around saying "GRACIOUS PERISH THE THOUGHT."

Chili, hon, you can do a LOT BETTER.

I wonder if Cap'n Blaze will show up for the trial?

 

[Fading Fast]

Everyone confuses Burma the girl with Burma the country.

 

[FOXTROT LAMONT]

The inherent comic strip contradiction now trumps all. Terrence splashed Second World War
China amidst lurid American headlines touting criminal juvenile rape/murder trials and electric chair executions, suicides, gangland homicides, war, society extramaritals, burlesque strippers-whatever, yet a soldier-slattern May-August wartime fling is tortuously avoided.
At considerable cost to comic credibility. Milton Caniff's restraint and reason are more than
mere topical aside since the man and his deliberate measured pace so capture readership.
Meself amongst these.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And on the "Terry and the Pirates" radio show, Terry is still, and will remain eternally, a kid tagging along with Pat Ryan. Multi-media franchises can get complicated, but that licensing money adds up.

 

[FOXTROT LAMONT]

Some post lunch rumine over artistic character licensure in this particular strip now that
sweet Burms has been Caniff cued off stage, she and lad never twaine shall meet and night follows day; so her day has run its course with staged adventure conclude. She's gone.
Gone with the wind.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("T'at Solly Pincus is a swell guy," declares Alice, grinning with enthusiasm. "I c'n see why t'eh writin' 'is name awl oveh t' subway. An'nem was a coupla swell bawl games we seen yes'tday. Siddy an' Willie t'eh was jumpin' up'n down t'ey was so excited. Y'know, if Rickey had half t'brains he t'inks he does, he'd be out t'eh singnin' t'em guys up -- t'eh was halfa dozen guys on each one'a t'em teams betteh'n'a buncha stiffs he's got t'is yeeh. Maybe you'n I oughta get out t'eh again wit'tem petitions like we done las' -- hey, awr you lissenin' t'me?" "Hm?" hms Sally, deep in thought. "Sawry. I gotta lawt on my min'. I went t'see Docteh Minkoff yes'tday, an'nee tol' me some t'ings about Leonoreh. He says maybe she's a genius." "Like Joel Kuppehman?" marvels Alice. "Like Einstein?" "He don't really know," shrugs Sally. "But he says it looks like she *could* be whatchacawl 'profoun'ly gifted.' An'nat means maybe she's, yeh, gonna be a genius." "Ain'nat a good t'ing?" ponders Alice. "She c'd do ya income tax." "How'm I s'posta bring up a genius?" wonders Sally. "I mean, I went t'Erasmus 'nawl, but I ain' no genius. Joe ain' no genius. Ma ain' no genius. Mickey ain' no genius..." "Well," interjects Alice, "d'pends on how ya, you know, d'fine'at. Some'a t' t'ings I seen Mickey do..." "T'at ain' what I mean," dismisses Sally. "Docteh Minkoff was tawkin' 'bout awliss stuff me'n Joe gonna hafta do t'bring'eh up right, awlis stimulation we gotta give 'eh, special schools, 'nawlis stuff. How we gonna do t'at? How we gonna PAY f'rawlat? We neveh ast'ta have no genius, we just figyehed on gett'na reg'leh kid, like, y'know, I was." "You wasn' no reg'leh kid," reminds Alice, "not f'mawla t'ings you tol' me 'bout get'n picked up by t'cawps f'handin' out Sacco an' Vanzetti papehs 'nawlat. A reg'leh kid don' do stuff like t'at." "T'at's diff'nt," protests Sally. "I didn't hafta bring me up. Ma did." "She made out OK," notes Alice. "Well," sighs Sally, "I ain' gonna do like she done. I'm gonna get help, I'm gonna figyeh t'ings out. Docteh Minkoff gimme t'is cawrd, a frien'a his. A psychiatris', like we was tawkin' about t'ot'eh day. Maybe he c'n tell me what t'do." "Awr," postulates Alice, "at leas' help ya stop gett'n arrested. You do'wanna end up like Crazy Babs t'eh out'n Mineoleh." "Yeh," mutters Sally. "T'at too.")

A plea to Brooklyn Heights residents to treat relocated Japanese-American workers living in the hostel at 168 Clinton Street as "individuals, and allow them to prove their sincerity" was voiced today by Japanese-born Episcopalian minister Rev. Daisuke Kitagawa. Rev. Kitagawa, who worked at the Tula Lake Relocation Center declared that much of the hostility to the hostel was based on ignorance of how the War Relocation Authority operates. "The WRA does not release any person from a relocation center unless his record has been thoroughly checked by the FBI," Rev. Kitagawa noted. "Those of us who are working to settle the Japanese in places where they can take a rightful part in society know their loyalty is unquestioned." The Rev. Kitagawa delivered his sermon yesterday at the Church of the Holy Trinity at Clinton and Montague Streets. He further noted that in often falling guilty of the sin of generalization, "we label people, and forget that they are individuals with problems and rights similar to our own." He explained that "evacuees coming to this area have lost homes, livelihood, and a feeling of belonging to a community. The church groups that are working to establish them in various communities are thinking of their spiritual and moral welfare."

Italian patriots thruout war-ravaged Nazi-occupied Italy were told yesterday by both American and Italian authorities to stand by for orders calling for a general uprising, and to keep in touch with "foreign elements" that have been absorbed into the German Army to aid them to desert and join the rebellion when they are given the signal to strike. A joint communique from Allied military commander Gen. Sir Harold R. L. G. Alexander and the Italian High Command was broadcast from Naples to all patriots, announcing the designation of six operational zones in which patriot units are assigned to attack the Germans from within. These zones comprise all of central and northern Italy north of the present battle lines.

(What do you suppose the page layout guy has against Joseph R. Cooke of 688 18th Street?)

The Communist Party USA has dissolved itself, and in its place, its former members have established a "Communist Political Association," which will not nominate or run candidates, or form a "communist bloc" within any existing party. The CPA was announced yesterday during a three day convention at the Riverside Plaza Hotel in Manhattan. The constitution of the new Association declares as one of its purposes the solving "of problems arising out of the contradiction between the social character of production and its private ownership, in a form and manner consistent with American tradition and character." Earl Browder, who served as the final General Secretary of the former Party, was chosen to serve as president of the new association.

The mother of the late war hero Sgt. Meyer Levin will lead a local drive to draft President Roosevelt for the Democratic Party's 1944 presidential nomination. In leading 100 Brooklyn mothers in a petition-gathering campaign thru the Coney Island and Brighton Beach districts on behalf of the Win the War Committee to Draft Roosevelt, Mrs. Leah Levin declared that "any clear-thinking American can see that President Roosevelt, and only President Roosevelt, can bring this war to a victorious ending, and into a peace that shall be everlasting."

("Bon-dage," sounds out Leonora, carefully regarding the Eagle movie page. "Gimme thaaat papaar!" explodes Ma, snatching away the sheet. "Naked trut'," frowns Leonora, before concluding her observation with a spattering "SPPPPPT!" "Laaaaaahrd aaahlmoity," sighs Ma, shoving the paper under the counter. "Sally aaahl ovarr again," chuckles Uncle Frank. "Oi'm too old farr this, Francis," laments Ma. "Oi could handle Sally, boot this one...." "The saaaaaaarcle," gestures Uncle Frank, drawing a circle in the air with a chubby forefinger, "of loife." "Ahh, shootup," growls Ma.)

(They have candy stores in Italy too? Quick, get a bet down.)

The former Eastern representative for Father Charles E. Coughlin yesterday emphasized that his own new political organization has nothing to do with the famed former radio priest. The Rev. Edward Lodge Curran, head of the International Catholic Truth Society and founder of the new National Committee for the Preservation of Americanism Against Internationalism, declared that the latter group, while it is happy to accept former followers of Father Coughlin as members, is not affiliated in any way with the now-dissolved Coughlin movement or with the Detroit priest himself. "He's out," decared Father Curran. Coughlin was forced to discontinue his political activities by his bishop in 1942, shortly after his "Social Justice" magazine was banned from the mails as seditious.

("...trusting in their silk nighties to disguise them...")

You wouldn't recognize our old friend Van Lingle Mungo these days. A diet of Army food has caused the former Dodger fireballer to balloon to 230 pounds. Van, who last pitched for the Giants last year, dropped by the Dodger clubhouse at Crosley Field last night to visit those few former mates of his who remain with the club. He is stationed at an Army camp about 30 miles from Cincinnati.

("The sex angle? In a monster story? Look, make him a vampire and everything'll be jake.")

(In fact, she's got a whole page in "Who's Who in American Scatterbrains.")

("Hey! That suit salesman said herringbone makes you look slim!")

(Can't even hold his root beer.)

(AMERICA'S NUMBER ONE HERO DOG never gets in the way when there's work to be done!)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

That's the Rev. Dr. Kildare to you!

"Yoooou've all heard of John-ny Moth, who loves to eat fur coats and cloth..."

Maybe she and April Kane have a room together....

"Blubber Fitz-James."

"Hey, who ordered these pinball machines??"

A good-looking-in-a-cheap-clip-art-way creeper is still a creeper.

"The reeking stench of that ten-cent tobacco."

A poignant reminder that all wars are fought by "kids from the neighborhood," some of whom don't come home...

Just as well, it's a ten year old heap. With recapped tires.

You don't mess around with NAVAL INTELLIGENCE.

 

[Fading Fast]

"A poignant reminder that all wars are fought by 'kids from the neighborhood,' some of whom don't come home..."

I remember a neighborhood boy who was ten or so years older than me (I was born in '64) not coming back from the Vietnam War. I only knew him by sight, but man it affected me.

 

[FOXTROT LAMONT]

A wrap tis tied tight as a drum. Burms all neatly boxed King's Bench buccaneer baloney.
Aside its asinine all this silly Jack Bull is deep contrasted the big picture what forthwith.
Our gallant Terrence is off to Burma and another romp with Gerry Nipponese.
I wonder what Mr Milton Caniff's circa 1940s public readership thought about his character
connivance, I'd surely expect a bag or two what-fors to sail in right royal mail post.

 

[FOXTROT LAMONT]

"A poignant reminder that all wars are fought by 'kids from the neighborhood,' some of whom don't come home..."

I remember a neighborhood boy who was ten or so years older than me (I was born in '64) not coming back from the Vietnam War. I only knew him by sight, but man it affected me.

A colleague's son passed out Sandhurst to Afghanistan, lost. Introduced, some brief chat
with this fine young man but all remarkable more now of course. Much like Terrence, which I
suppose partially accounts my admiration for our lad. The Second War generation chronicle
remains open for the brave and gallant who follow fateful lead.

 

[LizzieMaine]

It's not often we get to see a full-color view of one of our settings, but behold --

This is Rogers Avenue, East Flatbush, with the Ocean Avenue trolley line approaching the eastern corner of Rogers and Midwood Street. Dewes Delicatessen is directly behind the signpost. On the other side of that corner is the Flatbush Pharmacy, and next to that, is the actual, historical, Lieb's Candy Store. If Ma Sweeney steps outside, crosses Rogers, and looks northward, this is what she sees. The ornate building behind the trolley is the Rogers Avenue fire station. Engine Company 249, Ladder 113. And hey, is that Uncle Frank taking Willie for a walk?

 

[Fading Fast]

These aren't the best pictures to support my point, but I grew up in New Brunswick, NJ in the 1970s when much of the town looked like a rundown version of Brooklyn in Lizzie's picture above, including trolley tracks in the pavement of some streets. Even in the 1970s, many side streets were still cobblestone.

What New Brunswick had a lot of back then, but in my short search I couldn't find any good pictures of, is those three-story brick buildings you see in Lizzie's pic that often had ground-floor shops and, then, apartments on the two higher-up floors. You can see some of those brick buildings in the center back of the first picture (which looks 1960s to me).

In the second picture, which I'm guessing is from the 1930s, you can see the same brick buildings as the picture is taken of the same area, just from a slightly different angle - obviously higher up and shifted to the right.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Ahhh, Caaahrpr'l Pincus," greets Ma, as the screen door squeaks open to admit Solly. "What's buzzin', cousin?" he greets, slipping off his garrison cap. "C'n Oi get'chee a drink?" queries Ma. "Onnn th'hoose to 'a saaarviceman?" "Yeh," nods Solly, taking a stool next to Leonora, who is studiously stacking nickels. "Gimme a Coke. I'm onna way upta Ebbets Feel, see t'game t'night, an' it might keep me fr'm fawlin'a sleep." Ma chuckles as she mixes the requested beverage and slides the glass across the counter. "Ahh, at'sa stuff," declares Solly. "Y'know, it's tough t'get t'is stuff in It'ly. T'em people oveh t'eh'll drink wine till it comes outa t'eh eehs, but most'v'm neveh hoida Coca-Cola. I ask ya." "So ye goin' t't' baaahl game t'night, aaaahr ye?" queries Ma. "Yeeh," sighs Solly. "T'ey stink, but I hoid Leo might play shawrtstop t'night, an'nat might be good f'ra laugh. I dunno, seems like I really gotta scratch aroun' t'have any fun. I wisht Joe was heeh." "Indeed," nods Ma. "Hey t'eh honey," continues Solly, turning to Leonora. "Whatcha doin'eh?" "Count'n nickl's," she replies, frowning at the stacks before her. "Nosso many t'day." "Wheh you get awlem nickls?" chuckles Solly. "You runnin' competition t'ya gran'ma?" "Slommachine," declares Leonora, as Ma's face goes blank and pale. "Y'don't say," snickers Solly, stifling a laugh. "Yeh," nods Leonora, looking up at Solly. "Putta nick'l in, an' shake hans' an', an'nit BLINKS EYES an' UH OH spits out lotttttttsa nick'ls!" "IzZAT so!" replies Solly, his sides shaking as he tries to keep his face serious. "An'niffit DON'T," Leonora continues, her face growing grave, "say GAW'DAMIT." "LEONORA PETRAUSKAS!" scolds Ma, nervously twisting a cleaning rag. "Such language! WhereEVER did you laaarn THAT koinda language!" "Unca Hops!" frowns Leonora, as Solly dissolves into helpless laughter. "Smaaaawrt kid," he grins, recovering his composure. "Indeed," scowls Ma.)

Communist Political Association president Earl Browder declared yesterday that he's happy that the dissolution of the former Communist Party and its replacement by the new association has "displeased Berlin." Referring in his closing remarks before the Communist convention at the Riverside Plaza Hotel in Manhattan to a broadcast by the German DNB press agency assailing the new setup as "a technical maneuver" designed to "stifle attacks by President Roosevelt's enemies against the Roosevelt-Bolshevik coalition," Browder called the German response "what I expected and predicted."

British Foreign Secretary Anthony Eden told the House of Commons today that he has asked British Minister to Stockholm Victor Mallett for an immediate report on a dispatch in the London Daily Express charging that German guards have "indiscriminately massacred" escaping British and American pilots in violation of the Geneva Convention. The dispatch asserts that the shootings occured at a German prison camp over a three-day period beginning on March 22nd, and that the fliers were shot without warning in barracks, workshops, and courtyards. The dispatch was said to be based on statements from British fliers who successfully escaped from the camp.

"The blood of a Solomon may save the life of a Sullivan." If the Red Cross needs a new poster slogan, here it is.

(Keep 'em flyin', Ida!)

The Eagle Editorialist looks forward to the pre-game festivities tonight before the Dodgers face the Giants at Ebbets Field, with performances by the drum and bugle corps of a couple of local American Legion posts on the bill. "The roll of the drums and the blare of the bugles do something to us that makes the hair stand up on the back of our neck," he declares. "Nevertheless, if it's all the same to the Dodgers we hope that the music we hear won't be heralding another of those late night horrors to which the team has been addicted during its western trip. We'll trade several rolls and flourishes, Mr. Durocher, if you please, for a brace of hits and a basketful of runs batted in."

(Well, with a bookie at least, you know what you're in for.)

Going on nine years since his death in a 1935 airplane crash, the body of Will Rogers was finally laid to rest yesterday in a memorial crypt at a $300,000 museum erected in his honor at Claremore, Oklahoma. The body of the beloved cowboy humorist has been held in a mausoleum in Los Angeles since he and aviator Wiley Post were killed in the crash at Barrows Point, Alaska. As the simple casket was placed in the crypt before an audience that included many old Indians and cowboy friends from Rogers' youth, the strains of "Home On The Range" floated thru the Oklahoma twilight.

(WHAT WILL HE BREAK *THIS* TIME???)

Tonight's performances by the Drum and Bugle Corps of the Heiser and Elmer Bennett American Legion posts are just the beginning of a season of pre-game attractions to be presented over the summer by the new Ebbets Field Theatrical Booking Office. A dog act featuring parading French poodles -- no doubt even Frencher than Mr. Bordagaray himself -- will romp across the diamond before a game against the Cubs in early June. The best minds of the Dodger organization are throwing themselves into planning pregame entertainment, that may, it is to be hoped, distract somewhat from the quality of the baseball played.

(Hey Buff, you wouldn't happen to have an older sister who likes to sing "St. Louis Blues," would you?)

(I hab a code too.)

("Disguised as a child? Well you're no better, GRANDMA!")

(Yes, that would certainly be the responsible thing to do.)

(Specifically, THAT chair.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

"A seven inch African dagger."

Gypsy -- in the remainder bin??? Sic transit gloria mundi.

"Summer" sisters? I remember when you called yourselves "Slither!"

Once you're typecast, you're typecast for life.

"Oh, sure."

And yet Wilmer Bobble survives. There really is no justice.

That's one way to solve the labor shortage.

There's a pretty good chance this plane will never reach its destination.

Yeah, you know how hard it is to get records?

Leave it to Moon to build a pool table on top of a bathtub.

 

[LizzieMaine]

These aren't the best pictures to support my point, but I grew up in New Brunswick, NJ in the 1970s when much of the town looked like a rundown version of Brooklyn in Lizzie's picture above, including trolley tracks in the pavement of some streets. Even in the 1970s, many side streets were still cobblestone.

What New Brunswick had a lot of back then, but in my short search I couldn't find any good pictures of, is those three-story brick buildings you see in Lizzie's pic that often had ground-floor shops and, then, apartments on the two higher-up floors. You can see some of those brick buildings in the center back of the first picture (which looks 1960s to me).

In the second picture, which I'm guessing is from the 1930s, you can see the same brick buildings as the picture is taken of the same area, just from a slightly different angle - obviously higher up and shifted to the right.
View attachment 615882
View attachment 615883

I've actually been thru New Brunswick and remember it looking kinda rough around the edges even in the late '80s. We have this same type of architecture here, and every once in a while, when the pavement breaks up enough on Main Street, stretches of cobblestone along where the trolley tracks used to run work their way to the surface...

 

[Fading Fast]

"Gypsy -- in the remainder bin??? Sic transit gloria mundi."

True, but she's in good company, "Kitty Foyle," books by D.H. Lawrence and Pearl S. Buck and many other notable titles and authors. As you said, "sic..."

 

[FOXTROT LAMONT]

Terrence's plane follows predictible course dead reckoning cartoonist modus operandi,
so whatever window wax washes off like soap crystal clear. With my admittedly historical hindsight, I think Milton forfeited considerable credibility by adherence chaste tease instead
of shooting straight billiards with Terrence and Burma. I will look around the net and see if a
college lit paper or autobiography reference exists this issue.

That sailor homicide knifing his ex-galpal's elder hubba hubba caught my eye sure. And a court brawl movie script along post war British kitchen stage tightly reasoned motive, what with who did it fairly certain. Still, the proof is in the Yorkshire pudding what.

Liked those New Jersey and NYC pix. Saw the auto fins last snap. Meself's dream ride.