The Era -- Day By Day

[FOXTROT LAMONT]

Craig Stevens character Peter Gunn always enigmatic but his karate evidenced a probable
Japan occupance GI who took interest in martial arts and Japanese culture. Gunn was just
cool as ice and his town, never named, seemed San Francisco.

 

[Farace]

We’ve coincidentally been binge-watching Peter Gunn for the past several weeks, amused that everyone seems to drive a Plymouth Fury. We’ve pondered what city the locale might be, with the occasional references to “across the river,” and the seemingly never-ending supply of cool jazz clubs (early on I noticed studio ace Tommy Tedesco on guitar at Mother’s). The possibility of Kansas City, Missouri crossed my mind. We’ve also wondered how Gunn manages to keep his lease on his apartment, with the number of times hardened criminals have snuck in and shot the place up, and the door being busted open or the lock shot off by Jacoby. You’d think the landlord would have had enough by now.

Funniest thing in an episode we saw the other day was an appearance by Jack LaLanne as himself in his trademark jumpsuit. Gunn was there to get some info on a hood, but it sure seemed like a promotional appearance.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("We're working on getting a phone call thru to your husband today," assures Dr. Levine. "Yeh," replies Sally, her voice thickened by the lithium. "'S Fawteh's Day. I hope -- hope Ma c'n cawl'im too, let Leonoreh tawk -- tawk t'wim. 'S'a fois' Fawteh's Day he missed..." "I'm sure your mother will take care of that," nods Dr. Levine. She flips a page on Sally's hospital chart. "I've ordered a gradual reduction in your medication over the next few days," she continues, "since you've responded so well. We'll taper if off and observe your reactions." "Yeh," nods Sally. "Makes me tieh'd.:" She swallows and attempts to clear her throat. "Makes my mout' dry. I could sueh go f'ra -- f'ra Coke." "Maybe later," nods Dr. Levine. "Did -- didja tawk t' -- uh -- Docteh Minkoff?" "Oh yes," replies Dr. Levine. "He's going to meet with Leonora at the clinic on Monday, with Mr. and Mrs. Ginsburg. Everything will be fine." "S'good," exhales Sally. "Kin'a worried." "I was hoping," continues Dr. Levine, "that we might talk a bit more about what happened last week, about why you felt that you needed to..." "I wan'ed t'see Joe," shrug Sally. "Wha -- wha's hawrd t'unneh--unnehstan'?" "Well," counters Dr. Levine, "trying to board a train without a ticket and shoving a conductor off the platform..." "He was inna way," Sally reasons. "Wh--what'm I s'posta do?" "But why," returns Dr. Levine, "was it all so urgent? You just saw Joe two months ago. He writes a couple of times a week." "T'eh gonna sen'im ovehseas," argues Sally. "He -- he said so." "A lot of men are going overseas," agrees Dr. Levine. "But their wives don't try to jump on trains and beat up conductors." "T'ey awl wanna" responds Sally. "Jus' cause -- cause t'ey don', it don' mean t'ey don' -- t'ey don' wanna. Awr you married, Docteh Levine?" "My husband passed away two years ago," sighs Dr. Levine. "Y'miss 'im?" queries Sally. "Yes," Dr. Levine nods. "Awright t'en," Sally replies, considering the argument won. She leans back on her pillow and closes her eyes. "What if 'e don' come back?" she resumes. "What if he goes ovehseas, an'nee don't come back? Y'know, my -- my fawt'eh -- not Uncle Frank, my real fawt'eh -- I mean, nawt like Uncle Frank ain't been -- been my real faw'teh -- but, you know, my real faw'teh. He neveh come back fr'm t'las' wawr..." "You mentioned that in our first session," nods Dr. Levine, her pencil skimming rapidly across her notebook. "Yeh," repeats Sally. "He neveh come home." "I'm very sorry," replies Dr. Levine. There is a long silence. "He didn' -- he didn' get killed," Sally sighs. Dr. Levine looks up, startled. "Oh?" she queries. "He didn' get killed," repeats Sally. "He didn' come home. He -- run awff." "Ah," ahs Dr. Levine. Sally is silent again. "An' -- awl I been t'inkin' since I got t'at letteh fr'm Joe is -- what if t'at happens? What if he runs awff?" "Do you really think he'd do that?" challenges Dr. Levine. Sally is again silent, her eyes closed. "M-Ma said," she stammers, "she neveh t'ought my fawteh woulda run awff. But he did. Awl my life she been tellin' me t'at stawry. An' -- an' -- can we nawt tawk about t'is no moeh?" "If you'd rather not," concludes Dr. Levine, closing her notebook. A nurse steps into the room, and whispers something to the doctor. "We have Joe on the phone for you now," she offers. Sally pushes herself up, takes a deep breath and slowly swings her legs off the side of the bed. )

Pierre Laval will be summarily executed upon capture, vows the French Underground according to a list of collaborators marked for immediate death released by the "Keeper of the Morgue" for General Charles de Gaulle's secret army. The list includes the name of hundreds of Quislings with the blood of France on their hands, Notably absent from the summary-execution list, however, is the name of Marshal Henri Petain, who will be spared only long enough to be placed on trial before the French people. Petain is considered by the Underground to be France's Number One traitor, and his crimes, the Keeper explained, must be fully revealed to the people of France before he meets his fate. Also to be shot on capture are newly-designated Vichy Minister of the Interior Joseph Darnand, arch-collaborationist chief of the Vichy Militia, and Vichy Labor MInister Marcel Deat, who wil die for his role in sending a million Frenchmen and women to slave labor in Germany.

(The war at home.)

Bond sales in Brooklyn are already at 13 percent of the borough's quota for the Fifth War Loan Drive. The cumulative total of $6,324,161 does not include the receipts of the midnight War Bond spectacular at the Brooklyn Fox Theatre, to which a copacity audience was admitted by the sale of approximately $2,000,000 in bonds.

Two envelopes containing a total of $27,000 in cash left in a Manhattan taxicab last week have been claimed by Frank Costello, gambler and reputed slot-machine king whom Mayor LaGuardia has threatned to drive out of the city. Costello and his attorney George Wolf appeared yesterday at the desk of Police Department property clerk Maurice Simmons, accompanied by a desk clerk from the Hotel New Yorker, who stated that he recognized newspaper photographs of cab driver Edward Waters as being the man who picked up Costello outside the hotel on Wednesday. Costello affirmed that the money was his, and that he had withdrawn it from his bank earlier in the day to be used in "a real estate transaction." Waters subsequently confirmed that Costello was the man he picked up at the hotel, but Simmons declied to turn over the envelopes, concluding that Costello must claim the money in court. Attorney Wolf acknowledged that his client had "already rewarded" cabbie Waters with "a gift of $3500 in War Bonds."

The Eagle Editorialist deplores recent racial unrest in the Fort Greene district, and warns that such incidents serve only to "help Hitler and harm America."

(World Series games at night? NEVER!)

THe Bushwicks face the Philadelphia Stars of the Negro National League today, with the Philly club starting its two aces. Barney Brown and Tom Wicks in the twinbill, but Bushwicks manager Joe Press has not announced his pitching choices.

(Wait, they have telephones in the Old West now? THE WORLD OF TOMORROW -- TODAY!)

("You'll shoot your eye out, Pig!")

(C'mon, I'm sick of all these boring presidents and their constipated wives that nobody cares about! Bring on Warren G. Harding!)

("Listen here, Fumble, about all this absenteeism...")

(One of the things I've always liked about this strip is its unique combination of banality and surrealism.)

(Yeah, but you'd still need three strokes to get thru that fat neck. Try an electric meat slicer!)

("I don't recall asking for your help!" Well, sombody had to finally say it!)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

I'm sure the Thurbers are happy to be mentioned in this story.

A drink? Must've been a double.

"AWAY WITH YOU, DAN BACKSLIDE -- BULLY, COWARD, CAD AND THIEF!:

I wonder how many of Gould's villians start out as doodles on his desk blotter?

"A-r-r-r!" NOT ONLY THAT, THEY'RE PIRATES!

Just adds to the appealing patina.

Did Gus Edson just see a re-release of "The Phantom Empire?"

They grow 'em rough in East Covina.

Dunno what to tell ya, Cork. Maybe you're just a loser. And how does Joy's neck hold up a head that's bigger than her torso?

Watch your back, Burms.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And also....

You say it like this is something new.

 

[Trenchfriend]

"shampoo solution"

Do they still call it this way??

 

[LizzieMaine]

Most shampoos in 1944 come as a concentrate that you're supposed to mix with water before using, as opposed to the pre-mixed shampoos of today. So, while the usage is clumsy, it does make sense. But I don't think anybody but newspaper columnists and beauty-manual authors would actually say it that way.

 

[Fading Fast]

In today's dollars, Costello left just shy of $500k in a cab. Who does that?

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

"'I don't recall asking for your help!' Well, somebody had to finally say it!"

I had the exact same thought. Also, Mary sounds like she took a cut-rate course in Confucianism and is doing a horrible job of applying it here.

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

"What's that? I'll check, but I don't think we have a no-rats clause in your contract, Sandy....I'm not a bad agent, it's never come up in any of the hundreds of contracts I've done in the two decades I've been in the business....I do earn my fifteen percent...hmm, say again....oh, many actors pee on the set, it's no big deal....sure, come over now and you can curl up in my lap and I'll pet your head." [hangs up] "I damn well do earn my fifteen percent."

 

[FOXTROT LAMONT]

The Drew homicide story took the starch out of my afternoon break.

Burms squeezed her heart like a pin cushion over the little foundling.
Surprised Terrence doesn't sport a Flynn pencil liner.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Yeh, I'm frustrated," insists Sally, her eyes a bit clearer as she glares across the table at Dr. Levine. "Why shouldn' I be frustrated?" "You said, though, that you had a good conversation yesterday with Joe," counters Dr. Levine. "T'at ain' got nut'n t'do -- t'do wit' it," replies Sally. "It ain' jus' -- jus' about -- damn t'is medicine y'givin' me -- it ain' jus' about Joe." "Ah," ahs Dr. Levine with a knowing nod. "Why you gotta do t'at?" digresses Sally. "When y'nod like t'at y'make me t'ink y'know -- um -- moeh'nya lett'n awn. Don' do t'at." "Ah," nods Dr. Levine, her pencil skimming swiftly across the page. "But see -- " resumes Sally, pressing back against her chair, "Joe's still inna Awrmy no matteh what, right?" "True," acknowledges Dr. Levine. "Just the same as, oh, millions of other men. And women, too." "An'nat's zackly it," counters Sally. "Joe's inna Awrmy, t'ey take 'im away fr'm me an' Leonoreh, an' ev'rybody says t'ez a wawr awn an' ya jus' gotta -- I seen in a magazine, t'is t'ing about how women is 'suffrin' nobly f't'sake'a vict'ry. What kin'a slop izzat? I ain' suff'rin' nobly f't'sake'a vict'ry. Y' -- uh -- y'know who is? R'membeh las' yeeh, t'at Russian gal t'at was goin' aroun' makin' speeches, t'at snipeh? She was moeh -- whatchacawl NOBLE -- t'an any one woman inNIS country. She was suff'rin DOIN' sump'n." "Ah," nods Dr. Levine. "I seen'is ot'eh ad," continues Sally, a flush creeping across her features. "It says a woman 'mus' guard 'eh beauty f't'sake 'a t'man she's wait'n fawr, an' do 'eh pawrt f'vict'ry usin', I dunno, Pawlmolive soap a' sump'n. Joe don' caeh what kin'a soap I'm usin'. 'Pawlmolive soap ain' gonna bring him home one day sooneh. Me usin' Pawlmolive soap ain' gonna get Mickey outa t'at camp he's in. Ain' gonna keep Solly Pincus fr'm gett'n shot again. Ain' gonna make Mrs. Nucci's boy alive again. Ain' gonna put Hitleh's head inna doit. 'Sat awl I'm sposta be good fawr? Stayin' home an' usin' Pawlmolive soap? T'ey take Joe, a man t'at can't ev'n step on a cockroach wit'out feelin' sawry fr'it, but me, t'ey won' let me do nut'n but put wiehs t'ge'teh in a fact'ry. An'nat's sposta be awright?" "What WOULD you like to be doing?" challenges Dr. Levine. "W-well," sighs Sally, "what if I jernt t'WACs? T'ey coulda took me insteada Joe. Leonoreh likes him betteh'r'n me anyways. An'nen he wouldn' be goin' ovehseas an'...look, I dowanna tawk about t'is no moeh," groans Sally. "I wanna go back t'bed." "Ah," nods Dr. Levine, closing her notebook...)

U. S. troops on Saipan hammered today at the approaches to Garapan, administrative center of the Marianas, engaging the Japanese in a bloody battle for Aslito Airfield, 1449 miles from Tokyo, after smashing an enemy attempt to land an amphibious force inside the American beachhead. Veteran marines and Army troops driving north and east from their beachhead in southwestern Saipan were within sight of the flimsy thatched buildings in Garapan on the West Coast and had reached the edges of 1300-foot Alsito airstrip on the south coast.

("You ain't doin' no business in Brownsville, aaahr ye?" queries Uncle Frank, his voice edged in concern. "Saaartainly not," declares Ma, tossing her dishtowel on the counter. "Oi've told th' Hoppar Oi'll parrrsonally wring his neck if he s'much as sets foot aahn Pitkin Avenarrr." "RARRR!" inserts Leonora, making a wringing motion with her hands. "Oi'm worried aboot that choild," notes Uncle Frank with a nod in her direction. "Harrr moothar was bad enoough, boot nevarr loike THAT." "Ye nevarr knew Sally at that age," sighs Ma. "Oi'm rather glad oov it," shrugs Uncle Frank, sipping his two-cents-plain. "Oi don't know where she gets it," sighs Ma.)

(The EE is correct in his lament -- even in 1944, the "curl-coil merger," best described more as an upgliding nonrhotc dipthong that pronounces "er" and "oi" the same way, rather than a straight transposition of sounds, is fading from use. It is far more common in the speech of persons born before 1920 than it is in those born after 1920. Blame the radio, blame the schools, but something's clearly going on.)

(At least they aren't selling soap.)

(Sigh. HOW BOUT THEM BUSHWICKS!)

Phillies manager Freddie Fitzsimmons is well aware of how Leo Durocher and Chuck Dressen like to cavort on the coaching lines, but he doesn't think much of it when it's directed against his team. Fitz complained to the umpires yesterday about the Brooklyn brain trust's antics, particuarly charging that when they were leaving the confines of the coaching boxes, they were stealing Phillie pitcher Ken Raffensberger's signs.

You may have noticed Kirby Higbe's old number 13 spread across a new back this month. Former NYU star pitcher Ralph Branca has taken up the unlucky digits, becoming only the third Dodger to wear the number since the team put numerals on their shirts in 1932. Hig was the first, taking up the number when he joined Brooklyn in 1941, and Tommy Warren wore the number briefly earlier this year before the shirt was passed on to Branca.

(Hey Mary, how'd it work out with you and that riverboat gambler?)

(It's fine to keep an open mind, but that doesn't mean you can't put up a few screens.)

(A bad actor? I mean look at him padding his part!)

("And the other question is, 'can't we just roll up our sleeves?'")

(Make one mistake and you'll pay for it the rest of your life.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...


I imagine Mr. Giesler, Esq. has "CHARLIE CHAPLIN'S LAWYER" printed right on his business cards.

And you wonder why robots have a bad reputation.

Yeah, she gives me the creeps too.

"Look, if there's anybody who knows about secret doors to underground lairs it's me an' Dan Dunn. An' Dan Dunn ain't here!"

"Not only that he choked on the little piece of string!"

Working hard, Andy, or hardly working?

Well, he does kinda seem like an agent...

"And why does he talk like Kay Kyser??"

Trixie? Awww, be great to see her agai.....OH NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

If you're gonna troll, you gotta commit.

 

[FOXTROT LAMONT]

Willow seems sweet innocence. Just awakening to her adult maturity.
Milton however has absolutely no intention other than mere suggestion.

Couldn't open the front page on the Gable nupitals but I thought Garson got him.

 

[Fading Fast]

Give Kay Williams credit for persistence. She and Gable would each sneak another marriage in before, but in 1955, Ms. Williams finally landed the King of Hollywood in a marriage that lasted until Gable's passing five years later.

 

[FOXTROT LAMONT]

David Niven more than most adequately captured Gable in all his human faults and foibles
but his marriage to Carol Lombard and her tragic passing amidst the Second War shows the
star at his most gallant portrayal. The books to read are The Moon's A Balloon; Bring On The Empty Horses.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("She said Sally moit be able t'coom home in th' next day aaar soo," reports Ma. "She said they've made a 'laaaatta praaaahgress,' whootevar that means. Joost as well, Oi doon't know how they expect t'PAY farr aaahl this. Whootevar savin's they got's toied up in bonds." "Don't warrry aboot th' payin'," dismisses Uncle Frank. "Tharr's ways." Ma returns a knowing nod. "That's good'a ye, Francis," she acknowledges. "She's moi daaaghter too," Uncle Frank affirms. "That Doctarrr Levine, though," continues Ma, a frown creeping across her features. "She's a noosey paaarker. Troyed aaahskin' me a lotta fool questions boot me 'relationship with Sally.' 'Oi'm 'arr moothar,' Oi says. 'That good enoof farr ye?' Lasst thing we need aroond here is soomone askin' too many questions." Uncle Frank lifts his glass and examines the bubbles as they make their way thru the water, as he carefully forms his next thought. "Nora," he begins, "don't ye think it's toime ye had a taaahlk with Sally?" "We had that taaahlk when she was tharrteen," Ma dismisses. "Faaahr all th' good it doon, she aaahlready'd been readin' aaahl thim paparrs." "Not that tahhlk," continues Uncle Frank. "A taaalk aboot -- what goos aaahn here.'" "Moind ye business, Francis Leary," snaps Ma. "Th' less she knoows aboot that, th' bettar. Yoo and Oi booth know what woould happ'n if she knew aboot that, aaahl that maaarchin' an' croosadin' she useta do. It was diff'rent with Michael, he knew what was expected oov'im, but Sally -- no, absolootley naaaht." "Ye doon't think," ventures Uncle Frank after a deliberate sip, "that she doon't aaahlready suspect? Ye saw how quick Joe caaght on." "Joseph grew oop aahn th' streets," counters Ma. "In Williamsbaaarg, yet. Ye can't throow a cobblestone oop thar that ye don' hit a bookie. But Joseph aaahlso knoows t'keep 'is trap shoot. Sally -- tahhlks too mooch, too loud, an' too aaahften." "What'll ye do," challenges Uncle Frank, "when Leonora catches ahhn?" "She's three yarrs oold," scoffs Ma. "Aaahlready she can read, an' count," points out Uncle Frank. "An' she's seen ye back room. Hoow laaang d'ye think it'll be till she caaaan poot th' roit warrrds t'gethar? She won't be sayin' 'slommasheen' farevarr.'" "We'll craaaahs that bridge," shrugs Ma, with an irritated shake of her head, "when we coom to it." "Thaaat bridge," warns Uncle Frank, draining his glass, "moit be closer than ye think.")

British 8th Army veterans wiped out isolated German rear guards in the streets of the ancient cathedral town of Perugia today, as French colonial forces crushed the last organized resistance on Elba, following a lightning 78-hour campaign that cost the enemy 500 dead and wounded and more than 1900 prisoners. Official reports from the 150-mile wide Italian front noted that the Germans had resumed their retreat to the north under savage attack from Allied warplanes and the pursuing columns of the 5th and 8th Armies.

(Oh, won't this be fun!)

(If I'm reading this right, the Eagle must be the only paper in America to send its theatre critic overseas as a war correspondent. Hey, anybody heard from Herbie Cohen?)

("It's only pork when it's in somebody else's barrel.")

The managing director of Coney Island's famous Steeplechase Park has died after an illness of eleven weeks at the age of 48. Edward F. Tilyou, the eldest son of Steeplechase founder George C. Tilyou, was a prominent figure in the amusement world, and took over the famous park after the death of his father in 1914. Under the younger Tilyou's management, the park expanded considerably, and the family subsequently opened a second amusement center, Steeplechase Pier, in Atlantic City. He was also president of the Tilyou Realty Company, which built and leases the Kenmore Theatre in Flatbush and the Tilyou Theatre at Coney Island. He was, at one time, the youngest bank director in the United States when at the age of 31 he was elected to the board of directors of the Bank of Coney Island. Mr. Tilyou was unmarried. Flags will fly at half staff at both Steeplechase Park and its rival Luna Park until after the funeral.

(And I point out, on Sally's behalf, once again, that only one player remains in the Major Leagues from the Vaughan deal two years on -- and that player is, ahem, Peter Joseph Coscarart -- who is having a fine season in Pittsburgh. Isn't he, Mr. Rickey?)

(Y'know, Doc, if two people can't be happy together, they just can't. And frankly, neither one of you is any prize package.)

("All right, we'd better rehearse this testimony again...")

(Yeah, you said that already.)

(You've never pistol-whipped anybody before, have you?)

(Flannery the Cop really hates working on Staten Island.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

I mean seriously, WON'T THIS BE FUN!

Ketching up with the Heinzes.

"A trap door? Really? Never seen one of THOSE before."

I wonder how you get a building permit for something like this.

"And we know YOU can't cook!"

I look forward to seeing them fight it out in the alley.

And isn't Trisha the star? Quick, Andy, into the dress!

Do I believe a single word of this? DO I???

Hey kid, come around to my house.

TOO MUCH INFORMATION.

 

[Fading Fast]

"In Williamsbaaarg, yet. Ye can't throow a cobblestone oop thar that ye don' hit a bookie..."

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

As you've noted several times, I could not care less about any one of the three in "Mary Worth" right now. They all deserve whatever stupid unhappiness they get.

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

It's like the Costello business was reverse engineered by Page 4 as it's just such good copy for it. But again, I feel compelled to ask: in today's dollars, Costello left just shy of $500k in a cab - who does that?

BTW, that is quite a timely law they just passed.

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

"17,000 Jews Slain" is sadly a headline tucked into the corner of page 10 because, well, it's 1944.

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

 

[FOXTROT LAMONT]

I believe Willow Belinda, such a sweet girl.

The Casablanca French bride story clashes against Doris Duke's gigilo hubbie.
Money can bring misery to a marriage especially if that's all wedlock means to some souls.

Returning to the front page, it never ceases to be a strong draw and war news sure packs
a real punch without any blows pulled. Blood literally drips down to run off in rivulets like a saber thrust by Basil Rathbone or Errol Flynn. (Honourable mention Tyrone Power as Zorro)
And homefront stuff is no less keen with domestic squabbles, suicides, murders most horrid
with bodies crated and packed across country.
Which is why I find Caniff so deceptive, deliberately so.
Long before a kid gets to Burma running around in a harem girl's costume all hot to trot like
a brood mare, he's already read about the bloody slog against Gerry and Tojo, with a few extramarital murders and slot machines tossed in for good measure.
Before Milt throws a monkey wrench into the machinery. And nobody seems to get killed
xcept off-panel. Like Rouge. All that preamble ramble Cork slung like a noose rope over the
gallows gibbet but she escapes like a broomstick witch. And that Jap soldier never collected
his bargain winnings either.

 

[LizzieMaine]

The ghost of Raven Sherman rises up from her lonely grave in the China hills just long enough to say "What'm I, chopped liver?" And has anybody heard from April Kane since 1941?

 

[FOXTROT LAMONT]

The ghost of Raven Sherman rises up from her lonely grave... And has anybody heard from April Kane since 1941?

These unknown. However, after reading Terrence this past year or so, Caniff deliberately tones it down rather markedly all things considered.

OHIO DERBY RACE #13 22 JUNE 2024 THISTLEDOWN

#8 CATCHING FREEDOM

#9 BATTEN DOWN

#4 COPPER TAX

#2 GOULD'S GOLD

This race opens summer mid-level majority meets leading to November's Breeder Cup seasonal finale contests. The Ohio Derby purse is $500,000 which guarantees a healthy
betting handle reward. I recommend a superfecta with the above quad chosen from ten entrants. Boxing the first three for exacta and trifecta wager is another approach.