The Era -- Day By Day

[LizzieMaine]

("Yeh," yehs Sally, as the train pulls out of the 18th Avenue station. "Joe cawlt las' night -- he tried Schriebstein's an' we wasn' home, so he cawlt Ma's place an' caught us jus' as we was gettn' ready t'leave. Technician Fit' Grade Joe Petrauskas. Two stripes an' a T." "Whassat mean?" queries Alice. "I t'ought two stripes was a cawrpr'l, y'know, like Solly Pincus." "Eh," ehs Sally. "He says he's gonna get paid t'same as a cawrpr'l, an' people gonna CAWL'im cawrpr'l, but he can't ordeh nobody aroun' like a cawrpr'l." "Oh," frowns Alice. "So if Joe an' some real cawrpr'l bot' get onna train' annez on'y one seat, Joe don' get t'sit innit?" Sally gives Alice a sideways squint. "I dunno," she shrugs. "He didn' say nut'nabout t'at." "T' Awrmy," sighs Alice, "sueh is funny." "He's sposta get in at Raritan, New Joisey 'bout nine a'clock t'marra night," Sally continues. "Uncle Frank an' Ma an' me an' Leonoreh gonna go out t'eh inna truck. Uncle Frank says he was able t'get a priority f't' gas." "Wondeh how many cases 'at cost 'im?" Sally frowns at Alice's sotto-voce remark. "Y'know," she admonishes, "You oughta make an appernt'm'nt t'see Docteh Levine. She says mumblin' t'y'self is a sign'a whatcha cawl neurosis.")

Allied armies have bypassed and invested Poggibonsi and Arezzo, last big transport hubs on the way to Florence, as American forces today threatened Terriociola, 17 miles east of Livorno, after capturing a number of German strongholds in a flanking drive against the great Italian port.

American infantry troops and artillerymen were taking a heavy toll on troops today as they battled a force of 45,000 Japanese trying to break thru a trap below Aitape on the northern coast of New Guinea. Enemy forces, units of the Japanese 18th Army, were believed to be using mortars, field guns, and automatic weapons in a drive described as "a suicide attack."

("I am TOO a good engraver," protests a small man wearing a green celluloid eyeshade, as Uncle Frank scowls at another unsatisfactory proof sheet. "Oi could draw a better camel meself," growls Uncle Frank. "Do it ovarr, an' this toime put ye glasses on!" "Cigarette packs is hawrd!" protests the engraver. "Now, you wanna see sump'n, you oughta see t'ese C stamps I done!")

(Myrus is still playing at the Pierre because he can't remember where he parked his car.)

The Eagle Editorialist gives his strong endorsement to regional OPA administrator Daniel Woolley's campaign to enforce ceiling prices on Coney Island merchants. Noting that any soldier or sailor who is clipped for a dime for a five-cent drink is likely to tell about how he was gypped, the EE warns that "no community, least of all a playground like Coney, can afford the reputation of being a place where visitors are shaken down for all the loose change in their pockets."

(The divorce rate in 1944 is at an all time high -- but wait'll next year!)

(The worst thing about Reiser hitting that wall, aside from the simple fact of him hitting it, is that he hit it *face first.* It's a wonder he wasn't killed on the spot. If only the Army had taken Slaughter a year earlier...)

("A Bolivian tin magnate? Well, that's different!")

(At least you can hold the onions.)

(This isn't covered in the Guild contract.)

(Oh yes, of the Sutton Place Magnanimouses.)

(At least stop and eat first.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

$50 a piece is still pretty stiff for a bicycle. Did you check Davega?

Worth a thousand words.

Quick, get the iodine.

**snif**

"Mumps? No, that was the year before. Where do we stand on whooping cough?"

Maybe they'll book you at the Pierre.

Don't spend your money before the will is read.

AXL???? Is it YOU? Boy, you've let yourself go.

"The draft board, you say? TOOK YA LONG ENOUGH!"

"Ahhh, you get around..."

 

[LizzieMaine]

And also...

ED HEAD! ED HEA -- oh, hell.

 

[Fading Fast]

"So if Joe an' some real cawrpr'l..."

God luv ya Alice, it just comes out.

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

"Myrus is still playing at the Pierre because he can't remember where he parked his car."

Cute. What's amazing is that the Hotel Pierre is as highbrow as it gets, especially back then (think Waldorf, but quieter about it). The hotel and cotillion room are still there today. The first pic is, obviously, a modern pic of the room as my three-minute search didn't produce any historic pictures of the room. The second is the hotel itself back in its day.

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

I don't think Margherita Clement really thought her lawsuit strategy all the way through.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Oveh t'eh!" shouts Sally, as she leads her family thru a crowd of soldiers and their relatives milling outside Stelton Station, while a hulking olive-drab bus idles nearby. The clock reads twenty minutes past nine as she scans the faces looking for the one that looks like John Garfield. "Oi don't see'im, daaaghter," says Ma, straining to see in the dim light. "Thaaaat's not 'im ovarr thaar, is it?" interjects Uncle Frank. "Nooo, that's a saaaargent. We bettar get inside!" "PAAAAAAA!" squeals Leonora, spotting her father, twisting his neck and squinting at the passing figures. "JOE!" shouts Sally. "OVEH HEEH!!!" "SAL!!!!" comes a reply, as, gazing past an embracing couple, she spots her husband approaching. "FINAL BOARDING CALL!" rasps a loudspeaker. "BUS TO CAMP KILMER! FINAL BOARDING CALL!" Sally just catches a glimpse of Joe in the crowd, and their eyes lock -- just as a burly corporal grabs Joe by the shoulder and shoves him toward the bus. He twists his head back just long enough to mouth something, and Sally, hoping he can see her, does likewise as the bus doors flap closed. There is a hiss of air as the bus releases its brakes, a grinding of gears, and a growling of engine as it slowly pulls away. The family stands silently, watching the bus's taillights until they finally disappear from view. "Oi'm sorry, Sally," murmurs Uncle Frank. "That oool troock..." "Yeh," sighs Sally, as Leonora gazes into the distance. "T'at ol' truck.")

Two thousand residents of the 3rd United States Internal Revenue District received summonses yesterday for failure to display the required $5 Federal Use Stamp on the windshields of their automobiles. The list, posted thruout Manhattan yesterday, was prepared after revenue agents determined that nearly ten percent of cars subjected to a spot inspection failed to display the stamp. The summonses, it was stated, will be cancelled once the motorists purchase the necessary stamp and affix it to their vehicles.

TIck tick tick tick tick tick tick tick....

("Lummox! These are fuse covers!")

(Lowly is as lowly does.)

A new opponent tomorrow for the Bushwicks, as the Boston Colored Giants make their first visit to Dexter Park. The Hub nine arrive with an enviable record as one of the top semipro teams in New England. Last night, the Cuban Stars of the Negro National League snapped the Bushwicks' 10-game winning streak with a 1-0 victory over the locals. Cubans star southpaw Luis Tiant held the Woodhaven boys to just three hits.

(Yeah, it's that kind of year.)

("That old hypochondriac? Give her an aspirin and tell her to come back next Tuesday.")

(Well, he certainly kicks like one.)

(And that's why alcohol-powered fire extinguishers never caught on.)

("OW! STOP!" "Oh, foo. Let me try this again.")

(AMERICA'S NUMBER ONE HERO DOG is not afraid to speak up for law and order. And lunch.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

Sixteen husbands? No wonder she's hazy.

Poor Magistrate Solomon.

And what emergency supply kit DOESN'T include a bottle of 100 percent grain alcohol and a loaded gun?

The years are catching up, aren't they?

"Um, we still don't talk about that."

"And that time is -- ah -- tomorrow morning about 9:30. Are you busy?"


Ummm...

Well, at least until they read the will.

Try following the sound of the desperate whimpers of pain.

A well-laid plan brooks no interference.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("So this," smiles Lina Petrauskas, a thin, sad-eyed woman with curly greying hair, "is Leonora." "I'm gifted," declares Leonora, clutching the edge of the diner table. "Ah," nods Lina, her eyes flicking to Sally for an explanation. "S'lawng story," Sally sighs, as Leonora directs her attention to the grease-flecked cardboard menu. "You look fine in your uniform, Juzoas," Lina continues. "Huh?" huhs Joe. "Oh yeh. Heh. Nobody's cawlt me 'Juzoas' since -- well, since you. Heh. T'ezzis frien'uv ouehs inna buildin' in Bensonhoist t'eh, he cawls me 'Yussel.' But most people, t'ey jus' call me Joe." There is an uncomfortable silence, punctuated by the arrival of an elderly waitress bearing three cups of coffee and a glass of milk. Leonora frowns at the glass. "Wanna egg cream," she commands the waitress, who flicks a quizzical glance at Sally, who shrugs and waves her off. "Drinkya milk 'n be quiet," admonishes Sally. "Thank you for seeing me today," continues Lina. "I wish to -- apologize." "Ah," ahs Sally. "I said things when you were married that I have come to regret," she continues. "Yeh," nods Sally, eyeing her sister-in-law warily. "I know." "Sal..." beckons Joe, with a raised hand. "Letteh tawk." "I have had many years to think," Lina continues. "Has Juz -- Joe -- ever told you about our mother?" Sally looks at Joe, who merely shrugs. "I suppose," resumes Lina, "it is because he never knew her. Did you know, Juz -- Joe -- that our mother was Russian?" "No," Joe acknowledges. "Y'don' say. I neveh knew t'at." "It is why our family came to this country," Lina relates. "Our father was shunned in our village for marrying a Russian woman. He heard that in America this would not be so. We came here, to Brooklyn, to Williamsburg. There were many like us there, from Lithuania. Also from Poland, from Hungary, from Russia. Most did not care, but some did. Father struggled to find work. This was all before you were born, but I never forgot. And when it fell to me to care for you, I did not wish for you to..." "So y'mean I'm half Russian?" muses Joe. "Whatcha t'inka t'at." "But as I have grown older," continue Lina, "seeing many things, I can see that I was wrong. These things mattered once. Maybe to some they still matter. But there are more important things. You and Sally, you are happy. You have a fine daughter. You are going soon to fight in the war, alongside men of all kinds. There is no longer any place in this world for -- the old ways of thinking." "No," acknowledges Sally. "I have something for you, Juzoas -- Joe," adds Lina, taking a small box from her handbag and handing it to her brother. "A watch," he responds. "Our mother gave that watch to our father," explains Lina. "On their first wedding anniversary in this country. It is not an expensive watch, not a fine watch. She got it from a pawnbroker on Grand Street. When Father opened the package, he dropped it. Something broke inside the watch, and it never ran. But as long as Mother lived, he never told her that the watch did not work. I don't know, perhaps you might have it repaired...""Yeh," yehs Joe, his eyes moist, as he shows Leonora the watch. "In-geh-sawll," reads Leonora, examining the inscription on the dial. "She -- reads?" marvels Lina. "A child of her age -- she reads?" "I'm gifted," explains Leonora, handing the watch back to her father. "S'long stawry," sighs Sally.. "I wish to hear it," replies Lina..)

More than 1000 American bombers and fighters in the 11th Italian-based attack on Germany's hard-pressed fuel industry hurled 1500 tons of bombs into Ploesti today, leaving five oil refineries battered and smoking. From Britain, the RAF sent upwards of 300 Lancaster bombers, each of which can carry eight tons of bombs on short hauls to the great freight yards at Villeneuve St. George, 20 miles southeast of Paris, in a pre-dawn attack that smothered a concentration of German military supplies. Bad weather hampered air operations from the island base, although some planes managed to get off to supply troops on the Normandy front.

(Closing the barn door...)

Former slot machine king Frank Costello denied yesterday that he plans to attend the Democratic National Convention in Chicago. Questioned by reporters at Grand Central Terminal who spotted the recent loser of $27,000 in the back seat of a taxicab examining a schedule board listing Chicago-bound trains, Costello explained that he was merely planning to see a friend off. "I am out of politics," Costello insisted. "What do I want with it? I can't exercise my civil rights." Costello's most recent political encounter of note found him a central figure in last year's Auerilo-Tammany judicial expose.

The Eagle Editorialist scolds Brooklynites for the fact that Borough President John Cashmore found it necessary to issue a statement warning citizens away from the black market in gasoline. "Unfortunately," observes the EE, "too many motorists see the gasoline restrictions as a game they play with the Government." He goes on to warn that every drop of gasoline wasted by civilians is gasoline that will never arrive where it is truly needed -- on the fronts of Normandy, Italy, and the Pacific.

(BAH!)

As the old Fordham Flash Frankie Frisch pilots his hard-charging Pittsburgh Pirates into a dogfight with the Reds for second place in the National League, he relaxes whenever he gets a free moment by dipping into his vast collection of classical music recordings. You never would have known, back in the days when he led the harmonica-playing rascals of the old St. Louis Gas House Gang, that Frankie was a fan of the long-hair stuff, but in fact he has a library of more than 2000 Victrola records of the symphonic and operatic style. Frisch spends the winters at his New Rochelle home adrift on waves of music.

(I wonder whose uncle THIS horse is?)

(I never realized till now that Porky Pig is a smug little jerk.)

("Don Dashly?")

(Buchanan? Ew, we're really scraping the barrel now.)

(Poor Hattie. She was up for a part in "Orphan Annie," but she and Gray couldn't come to terms on her price.)

(Oh yeah, it's convention week.)

(Pfft. Let's keep Gypsy and put Lady Veilface on the stage.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

If you remember all that talk last winter, Danny Litwhiler could be coming to improve OUR morale, IF RICKEY WASN"T SUCH A FATHEAD.

It's a busy summer at Bellevue.

Look, I'm just trying to get rid of the blotchy death-like pallor, all right???

Well, this should keep us occupied for a week or so...

Mr. T would love social media. And Tarz is a pretty articulate guy once you get to know him.

Octopus worshipers? Now THAT's a plot twist!

Who needs TikTok?

Furniture salesman, stick to your wicker.

Uhhhhh, did you get all that?

Uhhh......

 

[LizzieMaine]

And also...

All Story Love, a tip sheet, and New Masses. Yep, that's America.

 

[Fading Fast]

Other than at the beach, or in Valley Stream where she'd be over dressed, where does a woman wear that short of a "play suit" in 1944?

It does show how classic lines last as, with only a little tweaking, there are stores that sell dresses like that today (not talking about the wrap gimmick). The more timeless women's fashions from this era were almost all on the modest-priced end of the market.

 

[LizzieMaine]

It was definitely a thing in places like Coney Island, where you could flounce along Surf Avenue to the shock of -- well, LaGuardia maybe.

The problem with an outfit like that -- and I had one similar when I was not so middle-aged -- is that you basically have to take it completely off to use the bathroom. And there are places now, as in 1944, where you might not be comfortable doing that.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Yeh," sighs Sally. "I dunno if I'll get t'see Joe again awr nawt befoeh're ships out. We had lunch innis dineh in New Brunswick teh, wit' 'is sisteh, but he don't know if he c'n get an'oteh pass befoeh t'ey stick'im onna boat. He figyehs maybe he's gonna be at Kilmeh jus' lawnga'nuff f't'em t'd'cide whehta send'im. He figyehs t'eh gonna send'im t'woik in field kitchens, but he dunno what kin'a unit t'ell stick'im wit'. Could be infantry, could be awrtillery, could be tanks, he jus' dunno. An' it ain' like t'ey advehtise when'na troop transpoeht is leavin', so I won' ev'n be able t'go downa boat'n see 'im awff." She exhales deeply, and leans back in her seat. "I wish," she sighs, "we coulda done sump'n fun. We had lunch t'eh, an'wawked aroun'na town'neh, but t'eh ain' much goin' awn. T'ey gotta collitch, an'na buncha fact'ries. T'ey make baby powdeh t'eh, y'know t'at? Y'd t'ink t'whole town'd smell like a baby's behin', but it don't. Joisey ain' like Brooklyn, 'at's f'sueh." "T'ey got a zoo?" queries Alice, looking up from the paper. "I didn't see no zoo," replies Sally. "T'ey got t'is big statue of 'n elk a' sump'n, great big t'ing outn'fronna t'is buildin', but I didn' see no zoo." "'F' I was you," warns Alice, "I'd stay away fr'm zoos." "Howcum?" asks Sally. "Jus' --" hesitates Alice. "I know you, awright? Jus' stay away fr'm zoos.")

Britain will send large and powerful forces to the southwest Pacific before the end of the year to fight under General Douglas MacArthur against the Japanese, Australian Prime Minister John Curtin announced today. Curtin told the Austrailian House of Representatives that he had received Prime Minister Winston Churchill's promise to provide those forces during his recent visit to the Empire Conference in Britain. "Though the main transfer of forces must await Germany's defeat," said Curtin, "large and powerful forces will become available this year, and the planning of the whole British effort will be vigorously pursued."

The Allied campaign to liberate France has bogged down among the green fields and hedgerows of Normandy after six weeks of hard fighting that brought the consolidation of the Allied beachhead and the capture of Cherbourg. Allied gains over the past two weeks have been measured in feet and yards rather than miles, at some cost in casualties. The Normandy campaign today is practically identical to the early fighting in Italy after the landings at Salerno, in which the Allies nudged their way up the peninsula at a crippled snail's pace.

("Farrrrr woonce," declares Ma, "Oi agree with His Haaaanar th' Mayarrr! It's hoi toime soomthin' aboot these aaamatchoors." "Who's thaaat man ovaar there?" chuckles Uncle Frank, sipping his two-cents-plain. "Whaaat man?" demands Ma. "Thaaat maaan ovar there lookin' at th' magazines," replies Uncle Frank, nodding toward the rack. "He's nooobody," snaps Ma. "Jooost some soidewaalk loofar." "He's readin'," whispers Uncle Frank, "th' Police Gazette." "HEY YOU!" yells Ma. "OI AIN"T ROOONIN' NO LIBERRY!" "That's tellin'm," snickers Uncle Frank. "Ye caaan't," affirms Ma, "be too careful.")

Coney Island's Half Moon Hotel has been taken over by the Navy, for conversion into the Coney Island Naval Base Hospital. The 14-story fireproof building with 100 feet of frontage on the Boardwak along W. 29th Street, was formally turned over to Naval authorities at noon yesterday, disposessing about 175 permanent residents and about 200 transient guests, who were given ten days notice to move out. Naval authorities will spend the next ten days inventorying the contents of the hotel, following which contractors will begin necessary repairs and renovations. The hotel is famous as the location from which Murder For Money Gang figure Abe "Kid Twist" Reles fell to his death while in police custody in 1941.

(Remember Stalingrad.)

(That's actually -- a valid point.)

Mothers, wives, and other relatives of men serving in the Armed Forces should refrain from wearing medals or service ribbons representing decorations awarded to those men. While there are presently no cases on record of the War Department prosecuting those who do so, it is observed that many civilians are inappropriately displaying these awards. Some men who have earned such medals are themselves reluctant to display them, often wearing the ribbons beneath a pocket flap rather than above the pocket in order to avoid calling attention to their accomplishments because they resent attention from civilians requiring them to explain the meaning of each award.

(Stanky, a cad and bounder? He'll have to go a long way to beat out Kirby Higbe.)

(Dr. Karen Ward, the Reluctant Abortionist.)

(Unless you plan to eat Uncle Willie, I don't think the OPA is going to care...)

(Better check the tag, I bet it was NEVER INSPECTED!)

(Yeah, well, you're no prize package yourself.)

(A BONE???? AMERICA'S NUMBER ONE HERO DOG actually ordered Salisbury steak with a baked potato, green beans, and apple pie.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

And just to be safe, stay away from artichokes.

Imagine being able to use up all those leftover Willkie buttons!

I wonder if he qualified with that weapon?

Well, sure. In theeeeeeeeeeeeory.

Harold: 5-1. Lilacs, Poison, or Beezie: 7-1, Grandpa Teen: 10-1, Aunt Pruny: 20-1, Goofy pushing a baby stroller: 100-1.

Where's the action, Gramps?

"Come along dear, we're having chili for dinner tonight." "WHAT?" "Nothing."

Even when she's being nice, Phyllis just can't help the passive-aggression.

Bug houses don't need talent scouts, they get plenty of walk-in clients.

Ten days! Won't this be fun!

 

[LizzieMaine]

And also...

Oh yeah? You think the Herald Tribune would publish this letter?

 

[Fading Fast]

I grew up in New Brunswick and, forty years after Joe and Sally's visit, I went to that "collitch," Rutgers.

Also, had Joe and Sally strolled down Albany Street (the main street), they'd have come upon a small store selling small appliances, costume jewelry and such where they'd have met a woman proprietress- my grandmother - struggling to keep it going.

While all the factories were gone by the time I was growing up in the 1970s, JNJ had just put up a massive new headquarters building.

JNJ and Rutgers have kept that squalid little town going my entire life. That and being on the Pennsy's "mainline -" which really is/was an advantage as the commute into New York City was, depending on this, that and the other thing, a little over an hour station-to-station. Still, the first thing I did when I could was get out.

Oh, one more thing, my grandmother's phone number was KI5-XXXX (I don't remember the last four anymore), "Kilmer five -" she was part of the Kilmer (as in Camp Kilmer) phone exchange.

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

"The hotel is famous as the location from which Murder For Money Gang figure Abe "Kid Twist" Reles fell to his death while in police custody in 1941."

"fell"

 

[LizzieMaine]

I've been to New Brunswick, had friends who worked at J&J and everything. And I never forgot the big elk.

 

[Fading Fast]

I've been to New Brunswick, had friends who worked at J&J and everything. And I never forgot the big elk.

I forgot to mention that my dad was an Elk. As a small boy, I went a few times with him to "the lodge" in the 1970s as he hardly went himself. It was rundown by then - like every thing else in that town. I remember it having a large pool table. He said he joined years before mainly because it was good as business owner - by then he was running the store with his mother - as you met other locals and some town officials.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("An'ney wanna put Joe onna ship!" fumes Sally. "This is noothin' loike th' kinda ship tharr goona poot Joseph aahn," reassures Ma. "Thoose troop transparrts ain't aaahl foola shells an' what not, tharr moor loike ocean loiners." "I seen one'a t'em troop ships get launched inna newsreel," counters Sally. "Didn' look like no Queen Mary t'me. LIbbety ships t'ey cawl'm. Tin cans, I cawl'm." Sally pokes morosely at her Coca-Cola, stirring the ice with a wilted straw. "B'sides," she resumes, "Joe don' belawng on no boat anyway. He gets seasick. At t' Woil's Faieh, he got seasick when we wen' inna Marine Trans'p'tation buildin'!" "He'll survive," insists Ma. "Sometoimes Oi don't think ye give Joseph enough credit." "Awl I know is," frowns Sally, "if he's goin' awna boat, t'ell be trouble. I wondeh if t'ez sump'n I..." "Aaahr ye takin' them tablets Dr. Levine give ye?" scowls Ma. "Yeh," mutters Sally defensively. "I'm still takin'm." "Joost th' same, daaaghther," Ma continues. "Oi waaant ye waaard ye won't starrt noothin' with th' Army ahhr th' Navy aaahr noobody else." "Yeh," exhales Sally. "Sueh." "An' thaaat includes," warns Ma, "gett'n that fool Alice Dooley t'do somethin' she won't know bettar enough not t'do!" "Alice," muses Sally. "Alice is a changed woman since Willie stawrted livin'neh. At woik t'ot'eh day some guy stawrted tawkin' 'bout how he met Koiby Higbe once, an' what a swell guy Koiby HIgbe was, an' Alice didn' even slug 'im." "Well now," nods Ma. "Thaaat's soomthin'." "Yeah," agrees Sally. "She wawked ovehr'n dumped 'eh t'oimas fullla cawfeee on'nim. By accident." "But she niivvar slugged 'im," repeats Ma. "Yeh," nods Sally. "Y'd neveh know she was t'same poisson." "Mootharhood'll do that," grins Ma.)

An American air fleet of 1250 planes struck at Peenemunde, birthplace of Germany's robot bombs, and also struck a Baltic experimental station in twin raids that may have interrupted Nazi work on huge rocket projectiles which, a report from Stockholm indicated, may be intended for attacks on the United States. Nearly 750 Flying Fortresses and an escort of 500 fighters sent a great weight of blockbusters and incendiary bombs crashing down on laboratories and other buildings at Peenemunde, 60 miles northwest of Stettin and Zinnowitz, both on the coast of the Baltic Sea. Other unidentified German targets were also hit by the 8th Air Force armada, which flew out from Britain, taking advantage of the first good weather in many days.

("Siddy," whispers Alice, nudging her husband under the sheet. "You awake?" "Yeh," exhales Krause, rolling on his back. "I been 'tinkin," continues Alice. "I wondeh what it's like t'be a poleh beah in New Yawrk inna summeh. Gotta weahr'a fuh coat awla time, can't go sleep onna fieh 'scape, an'nen joiks come inna mid'la night an' wake ya up." "Yeh," sighs Krause. "I'm glad I ain' a poleh beah," declares Alice. "Yeh," agrees Krause, closing his eyes.)

More than 57,000 Nazi troops marched into Moscow yesterday -- as dispirited, defeated prisoners of the Red Army. The Soviet news agency Tass reported that 57,600 German prisoners took part in the "defeat march," walking in ragged columns about twenty abreast with none of the strutting goose-stepping arrogance they had once displayed in their march across Europe. Crowds of Moscow citizens watched the procession in curious silence, many of them never having seen a specimen of Hitler's "master race" in person. Official instructions issued by Moscow authorities warned city residents against any demonstrations Most of the prisoners wore no insignia of rank, although a few lower-grade officers still displayed theirs, all were dirty, and all needed haircuts and shaves. Without exception the men looked as bedraggled as "a mongrel pup from whose tail one had just removed a tin can."

Led by a furious woman brandishing a kitchen knife, a mob of Coney Island housewives yesterday chased a fleeing intruder into the arms of the police. Thirty-nine-year-old John Connell had "intruded on the privacy" of the knife-wielding woman while she was peeling potatoes in her kitchen, and she chased him into the street. She was quickly joined by other women from the neighborhood, until the police intervened. Connell was arraigned on a vagrancy charge last night in Brooklyn-Queens night court.

(DON'T YOU KNOW THERE'S A WAR ON??)

Did you know film actor Joseph Cotten used to be a Brooklyn paint salesman? Before Broadway and Hollywood beckoned, Cotten sold house paint and accessories in the Flatbush Avenue store run by Irving Kanner, who, upon hiring the young would-be actor, declared that he was so confident that Cotten would be a successful salesman that he wouldn't even bother to start him out with a salary, but would instead, pay him straight commission. Cotten proved his employer right, earnig $30 to $40 a week in the store, and managing to get most of his possessions out of hock. Eventually, the two parted and Cotten went first on the stage and then out West to make his real fortune. But the first time Kanner saw Cotten on the screen, he wired him in Hollywood, offering him his old job back.

The Eagle Editorialist deplores the polar bear incident at the Central Park zoo that cost a young woman an arm, and warns that too many people just can't seem to understand that a wild animal, even in a zoo, is still wild -- and that safety guards are in place for a reason. He urges that zoo officials take steps to "make it more difficult for the heedless to risk life and limb."

Reader Harry O. Tapfel writes in to demand that steps be taken now to assure that civilians receive a fair share of the Army's surplus goods when the war is over. Noting that legislation has already been proposed in Congress that would guarantee returning soldiers the right to buy surplus Jeeps at a reasonable cost of, say, $500 each, Mr. Tapfel calls for the establishment of a government agency to operate a nationwide chain of surplus stores dedicated to the distribution at a fair price of all unneeded Army goods.

(Cats in the lobby?? I certainly support -- oh wait, he said "cots." Never mind.)

(The "Football Tigers?" Worked real hard on that, didn't you Mr. Topping?)

("Sigh. I'll go lock Bill in the cellar...")

("Don't telll me they're rationing hay!")

(It's nice to have the confidence of your colleagues.)

(PUT THAT HALF OF HER BACK IN THE BOX! Are we SURE Boody Rogers isn't back from the war?)

(AMERICA'S NUMBER ONE HERO DOG has no use for ca -- uh, GAts.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

"Just LEAVE ME ALONE, ALL RIGHT???"

Bugsy Siegel, Leo Durocher -- Mr. Raft sure has an interesting social circle. Wonder if he knew Lepke too?

BOO!

"Mister Bones?" Well, he had to do something since minstrel shows went out of style.

Well now! A nice payout for those who got their bets down.

"To say nothing of, oh, ration board officials..."

It's all about figuring out a system.

"Don't think too much." Says the one who married Wilmer.

Y'know, the three of you could really put together an act.

Once you master the art of trolling, you can pick it up again at any time.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And also...

Ca-ching!