The Era -- Day By Day

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

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

Well, at least Lois is of age this time. And THAT's the best picture you've got of Bela Lugosi? Wow, he's really let himself go.

Page Four here we come!

Point of order: can he REALLY fit thru that window?

Start vibrating, kid!

"He's right, of course. I'll just go in the other room here and listen to 'Life Can Be Beautiful.'"

"That's it? There's no will? What about my contract???" -- Sandy.

A new co-star for Bobby Clark!

"When you were ushering at the Roxy we never had this problem!"

At least wait till after the intermission so you don't crab the concession sales.

 

[Fading Fast]

My guess is Frank is looking into Ms. Belasco's past right here in Brooklyn - police records, outstanding warrant, unpaid bills, etc., as they need leverage and she did seem to run not only out of town in a hurry, but all the way across the country. I think Frank wants to go on the offense as it's still the best defense. Let Ms. Belasco start to worry about her past and she won't want to bother them about Willie.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Sarrrpless is a good man," nods Uncle Frank as he studies the front page of the Eagle. "One of th' foinest magistrates in th' whole city. A paaaarfectly reasonable view of..." But he cuts off sharply as Ma shoots him a look. "What was it ye warrr sayin', daughter?" she continues, as Sally glances over at Leonora examining the magazine rack against the far wall. "I don' get it," Sally resumes. "See, we was out las' night wit' Alice an' Krause anna kids t'eh, havin' chop suey, an' you know how Willie cawls Alice 'Ma' now?" "Oh yes," Ma grins. "Joost woonderfall how th' boy's made himself t'home." "Well," continues Sally, "Leonoreh heehs'at, an' she looks up an' says 'she ain'cha real Ma. Ya real Ma's in Califawrnyeh.'" Ma blanches, but quickly regains her composure. "Is that so?" she chokes. "Sooch an imaginative choild. Althoo, Oi keep tellin' ye them starries she listens to on th' radio, thaaar givin'arr oidears." "Well," shrugs Sally, "you ain' hoida restuv'it. She says 'an' ya real Ma's out in Califarwnyeh runnin' roun' wit' t' Hoppeh.' Uncle Frank's eyes widen as he and Ma exchange panicked glances. "Thim soap operas," chuckles Uncle Frank, forcing the mirth thru clenched teeth. "Nora, Oi been tellin' ye aaahlalang a little gaaarl's gaaht noo business tunin' in on that naaahnsense." "An'na funnies' t'ing?" adds Sally. "Alice heehs'at an' toins white as a sheet." Ma grips the edge of the counter for stability, and forces her own grin. "Oi'll be bound," she exhales, "ye gaaaht a reg'lar little doime novelist aaahn ye hands tharr. Isn't that so, Francis?" "Oh," nods Uncle Frank, "Oh yes indeed. But doon'chee think it'd be better insteada th' dear choild sittin' doon here in th' store ahhl day that p'raps we moit foind soomthin' else f'haaar to do. Ain't tharr a few a'thim Elsie Dinsmarrr books useta b'long t' Sally here still down in th' cellar?" "Elsie Dinsmoeh," scoffs Sally. "Couldn' stan'nem books. I do'wan't my goil t'grow up t'be no prissy lit'l priss." "G'amma's gonna kill t'Hoppeh," interjects Leonora, looking up from an issue of True Detective. "G'amma's gonna wring 'is neck." "Oi'll go look farrr them books this very aftarnoon," rushes Ma, as Sally gapes at her daughter....)

President Roosevelt announced last night that War Production Board Chairman Donald L. Nelson and Major General Patrick K. Hurley will leave soon for China as his personal emissaries to Generalissimo Chiang Kai-Shek. The announcement came shortly after the President directed WPB vice chairman Charles E. Wilson to "turn the heat on" to speed up the output of certain vitally-needed military equipment, notably radar, heavy artillery, and heavy trucks. Wilson will head the WPB during Nelson's absence. Nelson and Gen. Hurley will stay in China for several months, during which time, the President stated, they will confer with the Chinese leader on military and supply problems. Nelson and Hurley both spent an hour with the President at the White House yesterday in discussions believed to be the outgrowth of matters reviewed by the President during his recent visit to Pearl Harbor.

Four hundred families have been given until September 20th to vacate homes to be torn down to make way for the new Idlewild Airport. The largest airport in the world, to be constructed along Jamaica Bay, will mean the demolition of a total of 1000 homes, occupied by approximately 4500 persons, many of whom have lived along the bay and Jamaica Creek for decades. Three hundred of the first group of families to be disposessed are year-round residents, with the remaining hundred properties belonging to summer residents. The homes will be put to the torch by the city, and the burned rubble then bulldozed into the ground as landfill. A second group of 25 families must vacate by November 1st, and another hundred by May 1, 1945. The removals will then halt temporarily while engineers consider the specfic situation concerning the land occupied by the remaining homes. Residents of those homes have been advised the fate of their property is as yet undetermined, but that they may be assured that if they are to be required to move, this will not happen for at least another year.

("You are a sweet gullible girl." "You are ticketing yourself a cheap little wanton." Well make up your mind.)

(Careful, Leo -- you can't make up that hundred anymore by fleecing Higbe at cards.)

Anticipating a nationwide rush on transportation to St. Louis for the World Series should both the Cardinals and Browns win their respective league pennants, the Office of Defense Transportation, noting a dramatic increase in requests for rail reservations to the Mound City in October, is expected soon to announce that only bona-fide emergency and business travel will be allowed during that time. The ODT may further ask officials of the two ballclubs to take steps to insure that tickets for the games are sold only to legitimate residents of St. Louis and its surrounding area. The limitations would be similar to those imposed on the Kentucky Derby and the Army-Navy football game over the past two years. Browns president Donald L. Barnes and Cardinals owner Sam Breadon have both indicated that, while they have already received bales of World Series ticket orders from all over the country, they have as yet filled none of them, since no tickets can be sold until the pennant races are settled, and the club owners have met with Commissioner K. M. Landis to set ticket prices for the Series.

(Well, if you can't get tickets to the World Series, there's always this...)

(Hmph. Movie Bugs would go to the radio studio, give the announcer a hotfoot, seduce him by disguising himself as a sultry girl singer, and get him so heated up that the flames rising from his neck would set fire to the whole studio. "Eyeeeeeh," he'd say. "Now that's what I call HOT MUSIC!")

(Rare beef, red potatoes, and -- beets? EYEEWWWWWWW.)

(They'd love Fritzi on Tik-Tok.)

("Hmph," sneers Ma Sweeney. "More bloody amatchoors!")

(Look, if you're not going show Douglas standing in a long robe holding a hook on the end of a pole, then don't bring it up at all.)

(Yeah, you'll get over it once the check clears.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

"Size 12! We're gonna have a talk when he gets home!"

"The Pin Up Girls' vote?" Just who IS Chili voting for?

How convenient.

I'm all for the occasional slice of beefcake, but...

All righty then. Got it out of your system?

He who lives by the bird shall perish by the bird.

I don't want to be around when he starts to peel.

EWWWWWWWWWWWWWW

Shadow belongs to a country club? The war is lowering everybody's standards.

Get your story straight before you tell it. You're slipping, Burms...

 

[LizzieMaine]

Incidentally, if you notice a new byline on "Strange as it Seems" this week, it's because John Hix, creator of the feature, suffered a heart attack and collapsed on a Los Angeles street on June 5th. He died early the following morning, which is why his passing, at the age of 37, gained little notice in the press.

 

[LizzieMaine]

(A light burns at an unaccustomed hour in the Bedford Avenue offices of F. Leary & Sons Plumbing & Heating, as inside Uncle Frank sits at his old rolltop desk listening attentively to news bulletins squawking from a little radio on the shelf. His attention is drawn away, however, by a sharp rap at the door. "Yeh, good, y'heeh," bursts Alice as Uncle Frank admits her to his sanctum. "What's this aaahl aboot," queries Uncle Frank, resting his cigar stump on the edge of his desk. "Ye caahl me oop sayin' ye got t'see me alone, an' not t'say any'thin' t' Nora, an' at THIS hoor'a th' noit. Now, if ye gaaaht a ploombin' prob'lem ovarr't th' buildin' tharr, why, Oi'll have th' boys..." "Can'na guff, Frank," snaps Alice. "An' don' try none'a t'at Smilin' Irishman jazz on me, I ain't Sal." "Ah," nods Uncle Frank, realizing the lay of the land. He reaches into a desk drawer and withdraws a bottle. "Will ye have a drink?" he offers. "I said CAN IT," growls Alice. "I ain' heeh t'play games. I wanna know what's goin' awn, an' I wanna know why I gotta heeh'ra'bout it fr'm a t'ree yeehr'ol' kid." "Ah," ahs Uncle Frank, clearing his throat. "You know what I mean, Frank," Alice insists, balling her fists. "Spill it. What's goin' awn wit' t' Hoppeh an' Marie Belasco. Leonoreh's smawrt, but she ain' smawrttanuff t'make T'AT up. She hoid sump'n fr'm you awr t' ol' lady, an' ya gonna tell me whattit is." Uncle Frank exhales. "We didn't want'chee should know aboot it," argues Uncle Frank, "farr th' boy's sake. We've had soom lettars an' telephone calls fr'm this Marie Belasco. She's livin' oot on th' coast, an' she made soom -- demands." Alice's face reddens beyond its usual ruddiness as Uncle Frank continues. "An' Nora felt it best t'foind oot what's back oov it. You know how she joost roon aaahf'n left th' boy, so it doon't make sense she'd be waaant'n'im back. So Nora sent th' Hoppar oot t' look things ovarr an'..." "What'see fin' out?" demands Alice. "Well," hedges Uncle Frank, "thaat's a bit -- ahh -- we're still waitin' ahhn 'is r'port." Alice absorbs this information, flexes her hands, and looks Uncle Frank straight in the eye. "'M'on'y gonna say t'is once," she begins in a hard, even tone. "T'at boy is happy f't'fois' time innis life. And -- so'm I. An' I ain' lett'n nut'n mess'at up. An'nat means YOU ain' lett'n nut'n mess'at up. Because if you anna ol' lady don' DO sump'n about it, t' D. A. will do sump'n'about HER, an'na FEDS will do sump'n'about YOU. Y'unnehstan'?" Uncle Frank returns her gaze for a long moment and exhales. "Undarrstood," he nods....)

Polish troops of the British 8th Army advancing north of the Cesano River in the Adriatic sector, overwhelmed enemy resistance in a wide area inland, and occupied the towns of Mondavio, Serafini, and Palerno yesterday, it was announced in an Allied communique. As the Polish units advanced in the East, it was also announced that for the first time the Brazilian Expeditionary Force under Gen. Morales de Mascarenhas has joined the American 5th Army in the area extending inland from the Tyrrhenian Sea south of Pisa.

John Foster Dulles, in the role of emissary for Republican presidential nominee Gov. Thomas E. Dewey, will confer today with Wendell Willkie in an effort to assure complete party harmony on delicate matters of foreign policy now and after the war. The meeting was arranged by Dewey after Willkie declined to come to Albany for a personal conference in the wake of the 1940 GOP nominee's comments expressing concern for the fate of small nations after the war. Willkie has notably not endorsed Gov. Dewey for the Presidency.

("Didja sniffle?" demands Sally. "I sneeze," frowns Leonora, gazing with disdain at her dinner. "Too much peppeh." "Lemme look," insists Sally. Leonora pushes the plate across the table, and Sally pushes it back. "Not t'food," she declares. "Open'ya mout' an' lemme look." "Dowanna," insists Leonora. "We got awl night," argues Sally. "Y'ain' goin' t'bed till ya lemme look in ya mout'." "Toin' onna radio," suggests Leonora. "Wanna heeh H. V. Kaltenbomb. H. V. Kaltenbomb tell me stawry." "I'll tell ya a stawry," wheedles Sally, "butcha gotta lemme look in ya mout' fois'." "Dowann," scowls Leonora, folding her arms in resistance. "An' H. V. Kaltenbomb tell BETTEH stawry." "Eatcha suppeh," sighs Sally, conceding defeat...)

("Cooking pot?" frowns Mr. Krupa. "Not since I got outta jail!")

("How come we gotta feed t'ese guys," grumbles Joe, churning an indeterminate stew in a huge kettle. He flicks his head toward a sullen line of Germans being led past the field kitchen tent toward a temporary stockade. "T'ey don' look like t'ey been missin' too many meals." "Shut up an' keep stirrin'!" admonishes the corporal. "Amurricans folluh th' G'neva Cunvention!" "T'en how come WE gotta eat it?" mutters Joe. "Whut?" "Nut'n.")

(There are few things sadder to watch than the inevitable decline of a fine pitcher...)

The Philadelphia Stars roughed up the Bushwicks yesterday at Dexter Park, sweeping a doubleheader before 9500 fans. The hard-hitting Negro National Leaguers took the first game 4 to 1, and the nightcap 9 to 7. The Bushwicks still lead the season series against the Stars, but only by a margin of 4 to 3. Mr. Rosner's squad will lick its wounds today and tomorrow, in preparation for a visit on Wednesday night by the Baltimore Elite Giants, and then on Thursday they will travel to Washington to meet the NNL-leading Homestead Grays in a night game at Griffith Stadium.

(Oh, get over yourself.)

(There's a fascinating point of law here -- should a human being reincarnated as a horse be entitled to the legal status of a human being or that of a horse? But I don't think we'll be getting into that...)

(At least SOMEBODY will stick up for Tubs.)

(And here you are bleeding all over her seat!)

(AMERICA'S NUMBER ONE HERO DOG is a pioneer of Emotional Support.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

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

You can forgive Ambassador Gromyko for wondering what he's doing on this page.

"Does the colonel know about this?" "You could ask him, he drew number 12."

Besides, she's been saying that for years.

Yes he is. TO RHODE ISLAND.

I mean, it's not that hard as long as you've got good henchmen.

The restful rhythm of the rain....

"What nonsense. Besides, trout are fattening."

And you thought Mr. Willard had forgotten all about him!

Great, now what'll you do for an encore?

 

[LizzieMaine]

And also...

Eight million lives, eight million stories....

 

[Fading Fast]

Alice absorbs this information, flexes her hands, and looks Uncle Frank straight in the eye. "'M'on'y gonna say t'is once," she begins in a hard, even tone. "T'at boy is happy f't'fois' time innis life. And -- so'm I. An' I ain' lett'n nut'n mess'at up. An'nat means YOU ain' lett'n nut'n mess'at up. Because if you anna ol' lady don' DO sump'n about it, t' D. A. will do sump'n'about HER, an'na FEDS will do sump'n'about YOU. Y'unnehstan'?" Uncle Frank returns her gaze for a long moment and exhales. "Undarrstood," he nods.

Your move, "Uncle Frank."

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Lemme ask you sump'n, Ma," ventures Sally, passing the Eagle to Leonora. "D'you eveh -- you know -- t'ink about 'im?" 'About who?" replies Ma, buffing the fountain spouts to a high shine. "About -- you know -- Pa," continues Sally. "Awlis stuff about France lately. Don'choo wondeh if he's still oveh t'eh? If he's still -- well, if'ee's still alive?" Ma steps back from the spout and ponders the question for a long moment before replying, in a definitive voice, "No." "I do," shrugs Sally. "He ain't waaaaarth ye thoughts," frowns Ma. "An'nee saaaaartainy ain't waaaarth moine. Why..." But her comment is interrupted as the door skeens open to admit the Western Union messenger. "Telegram," she chirps, between chaws of her wad of gum. "Hey," she adds, "weh's Chubby t'night?" "Mistarr Leary," frosts Ma, "is busy aboot his waaark." She takes the envelope and pointedly tosses the messenger a nickel. The young woman shoots her a look and withdraws." "Whasawlis?" queries Sally. "Sump'n about Mickey?" Ma makes no reply as she holds the envelope out of her daughter's sight and with a sharp tear rips it open. Backing away from the counter and holding it close to her chest, she unfolds the yellow sheet -- and her eyes dilate. Her face reddens. "Blooody HELL!" she blurts aloud. "He MARRIED haaaar!" "What??" gapes Sally. "Who married WHO?" "Ahhhhh," flushes Ma, recovering her composure and scrambling to cover. "Uhhhhh, waaatch th' store farrr me, daughter," she stammers, stumbling out from behind the counter and making for the door. "Thaaat yoong woman, she calls over shoulder, "aaaaah -- gimme th' wrong message!" The door bangs closed as Ma, her apron flapping, races up Rogers Avenue, leaving Sally, baffled, behind. "Uh oh," whistles Leonora....)

Soviet tanks and infantry plunged thru a 22-mile gap in the German defenses northeast of Warsaw today and prepared to smash across the Bug River in a drive outflanking the Polish capital from the north. Marshal Konstantin K. Rokossovsky's 1st White Russian Army reached or neared the south bank of the Bug on a broad front in a major breakthru of German strong points along the Warsaw-Bialystok Railway, capturing more than 50 towns and villages in advances of three to nine miles.

The United States, Britain, and Russia, already agreed on the broad outlines of a new postwar organization for world security, will discuss early in their current conference at Dumbarton Oaks where to locate the headquarters for this new League of Nations. There is strong opposition to seating the new organization at Geneva, headquarters of the former League, and there may develop among the three powers strong support for the suggestion that the new League rotate its meetings in various global capitals. The press will receive its first report on the proceedings of the conference at a news conference later today. The chairmen of the three delegations, Edward R. Stettinius Jr. of the United States, Sir Alexander Cadogan of Great Britain, and Soviet Ambassador Andrei Gromyko, met yesterday to establish procedure and other arrangements to govern the conference.

("Y'ain' soeh, awrya kid?," queries Alice, gazing across the table as Willie pokes at his food. "Y'ain' feelin' soeh?" "Yeh," he nods. "I'm soeh." Alice inhales sharply, jumps to her feet, and races to the boy's side. "I'm AWRF'L soeh," continues Willie, "'cause y'keep askin' am I soeh!'" Krause snickers, holding up a forkful of mashed potatoes to conceal his mirth. "Don' joke like t'at," frowns Alice. "'Special' about t'is. Polio's serious. I'M serious! T'eh was kids inna home had polio." "Sawry, Ma," apologizes Willie. "Yeh," nods Krause. A clinking of silverware breaks the uncomfortable silence that follows. "So I'll ask yeh again," resumes Alice. "Awrya soeh?" "I'm fine, Ma," reassures Willie. "Y'betteh be," declares Alice.)

Screen star Myrna Loy returns to Hollywood today from Mexico, where she has secured a divorce from her second husband, advertising executive and car-rental magnate John Hertz Jr., on the grounds of incompatibility. Miss Loy noted that the separation was amicable. Meanwhile, "sweater girl" Lana Turner has also severed her latest marital bond, announcing yesterday her divorce from husband Steven Crane, whom she described as "quarrelsome, sullen, and unpleasant." Miss Turner also testified in Los Angeles Divorce Court that marriage to Crane was causing worries that were "ruining her figure."

("Yeh," grins Joe, leaning back against a stack of ration crates piled against the rear wall of the tent, as he holds forth to his fellow cooks, "y'ain' had nut'n till y'had a real Brooklyn egg cream. My mot'eh-in -lawr makes t'bes' egg creams in awla Pig-- uh -- Eas' Flatbush. See, she takes a tawl glass, right, an' squoits in two squoits'a chawc'lit syrup. Two squoits, no moeh, no less. An'nen she puts milk, 'bout half full'a t'glass, an'nen she squoits inna ice-col' seltzeh -- an'nis is weh t' awrt comes in, right? See, she tips t'glass at jus't'right angle while she's runnin inna seltzeh -- jus t'right angle, say, about t'oity d'grees -- so it don't foam up TOO much, but it foams up jus' enough! An'nen she stirs it up wit'a lawng spoon an' slides it oveh t'coun'eh, an' oh baby izzat good on a hot day." Joe's colleagues nod in appreciation, all but the corporal, who takes the cigarette out of his mouth long enough to inject a question. "Whut about th' aigs," he queries. "Ain'no eggs innit," replies Joe. "How'bout'thuh cream then?" the corporal continues. "Ain'no cream," shrugs Joe. "Jus' what's inneh milk." The corporal shakes his head and takes a drag on his cigarette. "Ah allus knew," he smirks, "yew Yankees was dumb, but yew Brooklyn Yankees take thuh cake!" "HEY!" growls Joe, his fists balling. "You'c'n cawl a guy fr'm Brooklyn a dope awra chump awra sap awlya want, I don'caeh -- but t'ez one t'ing y' DON'T cawl a guy fr'm Brooklyn!" "Whussat," snickers the corporal. "Y'don' EVEH cawl a guy from Brooklyn," declares Joe, squaring his shoulders and glaring at his adversary, "a YANKEE!")

(Especially not you, Senator.)

(That's fine, Mr. Owen, very fine indeed. How's your fielding?)

("And I wish you to go to the pharmacy and purchase for me -- a blindfold. I find that sleeping is difficult now that I can no longer close my eyes.)

("No, but I was once abducted into the fourth dimension by a time-traveling pixie. It does tend to change your perspective.")

("Who's there?")

(And the sad thing is, show business is really like this.)

(AMERICA'S NUMBER ONE HERO DOG has learned a few things from Trix about how to mooch food.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

NO MEANS NO.

"But I do like the comics."

That's why you should always wipe your feet before entering a theatre.

"Ah well. Hey, wonder whatever happened to Bill Slagg? He was great!"

When Class Consciousness Dawns.

Sure he's short, but he's got a fast metabolism!

"Damn place is worse than Steeplechase Park!"

"Oh, I guess THAT's why the man from the War Production Board looked at me so funny the last time he was here..."

A perfectly normal evening at home.

Have we got a story for you!

 

[Fading Fast]

"Y'ain' soeh, awrya kid?," queries Alice, gazing across the table as Willie pokes at his food. "Y'ain' feelin' soeh?" "Yeh," he nods. "I'm soeh." Alice inhales sharply, jumps to her feet, and races to the boy's side. "I'm AWRF'L soeh," continues Willie, "'cause y'keep askin' am I soeh!'" Krause snickers, holding up a forkful of mashed potatoes to conceal his mirth. "Don' joke like t'at," frowns Alice. "'Special' about t'is. Polio's serious. I'M serious! T'eh was kids inna home had polio." "Sawry, Ma," apologizes Willie. "Yeh," nods Krause. A clinking of silverware breaks the uncomfortable silence that follows. "So I'll ask yeh again," resumes Alice. "Awrya soeh?" "I'm fine, Ma," reassures Willie. "Y'betteh be," declares Alice.

You are a talented writer, Lizzie.

 

[LizzieMaine]

(

("Yeh," grins Alice, flourishing the Eagle, "I'm tellin' ya, Sal. It's awlmos' oveh. Nex' stawp, Boilin. Maybe we'll let t'em Russians take Hitleh back t'Moscow inna zoo cage. An' Joe -- why, Joe's gonna be home by Chris'mas!" "If on'y," sighs Sally. "Hey," heys Alice. "What's eat'n ya, kid? Y'otta be excited." "T'ez stuff goin' awn," frowns Sally. "Ma got t'is telegram yestehday, an' run outa t'place like 'eh tail was on fieh. Sump'n about somebody gett'n married. An' I can't stawp t'inkin' about it -- I mean, right befoeh t'at we was tawkin' about Pa -- you know, my fat'eh t'at din' come home fr'm t'las' wawr. You know t'stawry t'eh." "He run awff wit' a French tawrt," nods Alice. "Y'don'haft'eh put it t'at way," growls Sally. "Sawry," shrugs Alice. "T'at's how Mickey awrways said it." "Well anyways, I was t'inkin'," continues Sally. "We was jus' tawkin' about 'im, an'nen'nis telegram shows up 'bout somebody gett'n married, an' Ma has a fit. I mean -- what if it was about PA?" "Aw, t'at's stupid," snickers Alice. "T'at on'y happ'ns inna movies, t'at kin'a whatchacawl cwincaden'. An' bad movies at't'at. T'em kin'a movies t'ey put onna backa t'double featchehs. You know, wit' Busteh Crabbe an', I dunno, Mae Clawrke. T'em kin'a pitchehs. But t'at stuff ain' f'real." Sally glares across the seat and sighs. "Well, it's sump'n up," she concludes, "an' I'm gonna fin' out what." "Ah," ahs Alice. "Like in one'a t'em movies wit', whassehname t'eh, Nancy Drew." "Yeh," eyerolls Sally. "An' YOU awr gonna help me." "I am?" gulps Alice. "Jus' like innem movies," declares Sally. "If I'm Nancy Drew, t'at makes YOU -- I dunno, whoeveh'r it is t'at helps Nancy Drew. I don' remembeh, t'em pitchehs was dumb. But anyways, whoeveh it is t'at helps Nancy Drew innem pitchehs -- t'at's you." "Oh," exhales Alice...)

Dewey campaign foreign policy adviser John Foster Dulles will meet today with Secretary of State Cordell Hull in a conference that may bring Republican changes to the American plan for a postwar world peace organization. The meeting of foreign policy leaders of both the Democratic and Republican parties, who are agreed that the option of military must remain available to check future aggressors, may determine whether the American plan will receive bipartisan support during the Presidential campaign. Hull, who has served as Secretary of State since 1933, and Dulles, who may hold that office five months hence if Dewey wins the election, were to have begun their meeting this afternoon. When Dulles arrived in Washington yesterday he indicated to reporters that neither he nor Governor Dewey have seen the American plan for world security, and made it plain that he and the GOP nominee expect to be kept informed as to the progress of the Dumbarton Oaks conference among emissaries of the Big Three Allied leaders.

("Oi don't carry those," scowls Ma. "Have a rool'a Tums." She tosses the antacid candy across the counter to Uncle Frank, who frowns as he unwraps the roll and gulps down three of the tablets. He chases them with a deep draught of two-cents-plain, and emits a thunderous belch. "Oi told ye not to take ye loonch at Dewes'," snaps Ma, snapping her head in the direction of the deli across Midwood Street. "They don't trim tharr caaaarned beef a'tall. Noothin' but grease 'n gristle. An' th' divvil with yarr indigestion, Oi want t'hearr what'chee ganna do about Hops Gaffney an' Marie Belasco!" "Oi'm givin' it ahhl me considarration," groans Uncle Frank, patting his rebellious stomach. "T'narrve a' him!" sputters Ma. "Th' ooooooonmitigated GAAAHLL. 'Mistarr Dennis Gaffney an' Miss Marie Belasco wish to announce tharr MARRIAGE..." "Oi didn't know his roit name was 'Dennis,'" chuckles Uncle Frank. "Oi didn't even know he HAD a roit name." "Nivver mind that," interrupts Ma. "Oi lifted that boy oota th' GUTTAR, Oi give him a GOOD JAAAAHB, Oi treat 'im loike ME OWN SONNNN, an' THIS is hoo'ee repays me. Oi tell ye roit now, Francis Leary, Oi'll see his ears pinned back farr good farr this, an' Oi don't care HOW." "Oi told you before," exhales Uncle Frank, "Oi'm not gonnar..." "Don'chee SEE what's th' DANGER here?" bellows Ma. "Th' Hoppar knows AAAAHL ABOOOT th' whole oparration! Ev'ry'thing goes on HERE an' ev'rything YOU got goin'. An' if you don't think him an' his daaaaaarlin' woife ain't gonna take advantage'a that, why..." "Oi am GIVIN' it," snaps back Uncle Frank, "me FULL considarration." "See that'chee do," concludes Ma. "In th'meantoime," sighs Uncle Frank, peeling off two more Tums, "Oi'd be obliged if ye'd fill oop me glass....")

(Gene Krupa -- with strings. That's like a choice sirloin covered in whipped cream.)

("Thank you. And before any of you ask, I'm due in January." Yes, THAT IS THE JOKE HERE.)

With the end of the August heat wave, the city-wide ice shortage is also easing. An official of the American Ice Company said today that normal deliveries will now resume, and other ice firms are expected to follow. Chief victims of the shortage were Broadway theatres using ice as part of their cooling plants.

(And if you were wondering about the behind the scenes reason why Mr. Rickey suddenly rehired Mr. Dressen last summer after firing him six months before -- well, he makes a convenient little club to hold over Leo's head, doesn't he?)

The Baltimore Elite Giants stomp into Dexter Park tonight for an arc tilt against the Bushwicks starting at 8:45 PM. The Negro National Leaguers arrive with a power-packed roster that includes George Scales, Roy Campanella, Bill Hoskins, Fenton Snow, Henry Kimbro, Bill Harvey, Tom Glover, Bill Byrd, and Bob Clarke. Despite their demonstrated might, however, when last in town the Elites dropped a tough 9-8 contest in 11 innings.

With six weeks left in the 1944 campaign, oddsmakers are giving 5-2 on the chances of an all-St. Louis World Series.

(Point of Order -- at no point have we established that Dr. Ward is anything more than a general practitioner working in a small town. Did she take a correspondence course in Skilled Plastic Surgery? An IF she 's so skilled, why did she leave the Senora with a receding hairline?)

(George has been SAVING THAT LINE FOR YEARS!)

(And the secret? Pure tetraethyl lead. Better wear some gloves, kids!)

("Hmmm, now how would Gould end this?")

("Waaaal, that's very fine, boy, very fine. All I got to offer in return is this jug of corn likker! Go ahead, try a snoot!")

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

Yeah, but I bet that car doesn't have a sign on the roof that lights up and flashes "BAGELS."

Jessel??? Fourteen Year Old Ruth Siegel needs to be very careful. Ask Lois Andrews.

It's gonna be tragic when Walt has to go back to work.

ANd just to be safe, go get your blood sugar checked.

Yeah, it does get hot up in the top of a barn.

Hey, I wonder too -- where I can get one of those!

Jokes on you, the blanket came off YOUR bed.

If you think that's bad, Punj and the Asp are out of work too!

"I dunno. He really likes chipped beef."

"In other words, deah boy -- am-scray!"

 

[LizzieMaine]

And also...

New York's Picture Newspaper.

 

[LizzieMaine]

(In the alley behind 503 Rogers Avenue two figures wrapped in shabby overcoats, their features obscured by slouch hats pulled low, creep thru the late-evening gloom toward a grimy row of garbage cans. The only sounds are the scrabblings of rats, the passing rattle of a nighthawk cab, and from the open window of an apartment house across Nostrand Avenue, disjointed scraps of argument. "Oveh heeh," hisses the shorter of the two figures. "OW!" blurts the larger. "Sawry, Sal -- t'ese dam' cawbblestones!" "Quiet!" demands Sally, peering from under the brim of her hat. She gestures to the upstairs apartment over Lieb's Candy Store. "Ma's a light sleepeh." "Hey Sal," warns Alice. "I jus' noticed. Light's on inna back room t'eh -- see, y'cn' see t'ru t'crack inna doeh t'eh." "Oh do'worry 'bout t'at," hisses Sally, reaching tentatively for the lid of the closest can. "T'ey musta jus' f'gawt t'toin it awff. Now get oveh heeh an' stawrt soichin'neese cans." "It's hot innis coat," complains Alice, as she pulls off a lid. "Yeh," acknowledges Sally, rummaging thru the trash. "But if somebody looks out'eeh, awleh gonna see is a coupla bums goin' t'ru t'gawrbage. T'ey won' pay no notice a'tawll. Now get busy an' fin'nat telegram. Ma awrways t'rows 'em inna was'ebasket unneh t'counteh t'eh afteh she's done read'n'm, I seen 'eh do it a million times." "Awlez innis one is cawfee groun's, melted ice cream, an' cigawr butts," reports Alice. "Disgustin'." "Whassis?" snaps Sally. "Heeh, shine'at light oveh 'eeh." Alice aims the beam from a pocket penlight toward her companion, and reveals a sheet of tablet paper covered with columns of three-digit numbers next to names and dollar figures. "Ahhh, t'is ain' nut'n," frowns Sally. "Jus' Ma doin'eh bookkeepin'. Keep lookin', keep lookin'." "Hey!" interjects Alice. "T'is is it, I t'ink I foun' it!" She reaches over toward Sally, holding out a crumpled yellow sheet. In her enthusiasm, Sally knocks a dislodged lid off one of the cans, sending it clattering to the cobbled pavement. "WHOOOO'S OOOT THARRRR!" demands a muffled voice from behind the door. "Cheezit!" hisses Sally, "T'at soun's like MA! Whasshee doin' up ---" "Run!" demands Alice, as a scraping from behind the door suggests the imminent opening of a latch. The two ragged figures, their coattails flapping, flee thru an opening in the board fence barely in time to escape detection as Ma leans out the door. "WHO'S OOT THARR?" she yells, the light from the back room glinting against the revolver in her hand. She scans the alley, receiving only a distant yowl in response. "Blooody cats," she sighs, as she withdraws behind the door....)

Chairman Edward R. Stettinius Jr. will be asked today by news correspondents to lift the veil of secrecy surrounding the proceedings of the Dumbarton Oaks three-power conference on world security. The request for a lifting of the ban on press coverage preceded by several hours a statement from John Foster Dulles, foreign policy adviser to Republican Presidential nominee Gov. Thomas E. Dewey, that he is "inclined to think there could be more information given than is being given about the Dumbarton Oaks conference." A committee of the State Department Correspondents Association has been delegated to meet with Stettinius, along with British chairman Sir Alexander Cadogan and Soviet Ambassador Andrei Gromyko, where they are expected to present the conference delgates with an official memorandum of protest over the press ban.

(The job's not over till the paperwork's done.)

Reports that Brig. Gen. William O'Dwyer will soon return home from Army service in Italy to resume his duties as Brooklyn District Attorney have been spiked by high Army officials in Wshington. Military representatives emphasized that they have no information on Gen. O'Dwyer's possible discharge, and doubt the veracity of any such reports. O'Dwyer's chief clerk, Assistant District Attorney James Moran agreed, stating today that "it's not true." Assistant District Attorney Edward Heffernan, head of the Brooklyn homicide bureau, agreed with his colleague's statement, and while praising the work of Acting District Attorney Thomas Craddock, who has been in charge of the office in O'Dwyer's absence, Heffernan added that the entire staff will be glad to welcome their chief back -- when that happens.

("Meantime, let's get back to that alley in Pigtown. Sorry, East Flatbush...)

("Hey Pap," queries Willie, sprawled on his belly on the floor leafing thru the newspaper as Krause leans back in his chair, his attention divided between a copy of "Popular Mechanics" and "The March of Time" emanating from the radio. "You eveh," the boy continues, "know anybody eveh had polio?" "Yeh," nods Krause, lowering his magazine. "Whassit like?" continues Willie. "'S'no good," replies Krause. "She useta swing 'ehself aroun'a house, holdin' on chaiehs. She wouln' use no cane, use no crutches. She jus' swing 'ehself aroun' leanin' on foinitcheh. An' if y'tried t'help 'eh, why, she'd holleh an' tellya t'mine'ya business." Willie absorbs this image. "Who wazzit?" he queries. "My ma," replies Krause. "Can I meet 'eh?" asks Willie. "Neh," replies Krause. "How come?" challenges Willie. Krause pauses before replying. "She's dead." "Oh," nods Willie, pondering this revelation. He is silent a long moment. "I ain't gonna get no polio," he declares. It is not a question. "No," agrees Krause.)

(Augie Galan isn't the best ballplayer the Dodgers have, but he is by all reckonings the toughest.)

The Bushwicks shut out the Baltimore Elite Giants last night at Dexter Park, blanking the powerful Negro National Leaguers 2-0 on the strength of fine pitching from Wally Holborow, who held the Elites to just two hits before an arclight crowd of 4500. Tonight the Bushwicks get a taste of the nation's capital, as they travel to Washington to play the Homestead Grays at Griffith Stadium.

(Coming Events Cast Their Hairlines Before...)

(You can recognize a good lawyer by the quality of his office security.)

(AMERICA'S NUMBR ONE HERO DOG will rush to help out in ANY strip!)

(Point of order: it's the end of the month and she still has three stamps left? HOARDER.)

(From would-be mass shooter to lovable old grandpa in just two weeks. LET'S SEE SANDY DO THAT!)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News....

"Awright'choo monkeys," bellows the corporal, "git this gear aahn th' trucks, we're rollin' out in half'n houh! C'mon, Brooklyn, git th' lead out. Out'cho FEET at leas', ain'choo fault yo' cain' git it out'chee haid!" Joe scowls under the weight of a gasoline field stove, but he is too exhausted to raise an appropriate reply.

Jeezuz.

Well now, THIS will be a finish we haven't seen before.

Well, she did, we presume, kill Captain Judas. But nobody's gonna care about that.

One day off the saltpeter and he's already out of control.

Oh, Phyllis, you're so bourgie.

"No, wait, that's a cardboard recruiting poster. Don't you hate those?"

See, Phyllis, THIS is how you bourgie.

"Of course, the dog will have to go."

I really don't know why the black undershirt look for six-year-olds didn't catch on.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And finally --

Tick tock!

 

[Fading Fast]

"Jus' Ma doin'eh bookkeepin'.

Most humans are good at not seeing what they don't want to see, Sally has elevated it to an art form.

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

Re Angelino Bruno, can't some official take a quick peek to settle this? If Angelino is fussy about it, I'm sure a matron can be found who can do a fast look-see.

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

"From would-be mass shooter to lovable old grandpa in just two weeks. LET'S SEE SANDY DO THAT!"

I just shoved the old man, "Daddy," and his high-priced contract right out of the script, which freed up salary dollars for AMERICA'S TRUE NUMBER ONE HERO DOG to signed a nice fat contract extension. Let's see Bo-Schmo do that!

Oh, and as to this, "Of course, the dog will have to go," read the fine print in the contract extension, I get paid whether I'm on screen or not. I'm just as happy not to have to get up early to go to makeup.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("All oovar but th' shout'n," muses Uncle Frank, gesturing at the paper. "Oi'll believe it when me Michael's home again," dismisses Ma. "An' Joseph. Anyway, we gaaaht bigger prabl'ms than th' warr t'warry aboot roit now. Oi gaaht a telephone caahl when ye was oot." "Th' Hoppar?" frowns Uncle Frank. "None oothar," growls Ma. "Such naaarve with his collect caaahls. But lemme tell ye what he had t'say. He says him an' Marie Belasco is gonna start a new loife in Califarrnya, an' that bein' soo, they now feel that it would be parrfectly foine farr th' boy t'remain wharr he is. Farr th' toime bein'." "That's soomthin' at least," shrugs Uncle Frank. "Ahhh, boot thar's more," continues Ma. "He says -- in view oov that, moind ye -- he thinks it would be fair faaar oos t' help 'em oot gettn' that new loife goin'." "How mooch," growls Uncle Frank, his eyes narrowing. "Ten thoosand," replies Ma. "Ten thoosand dollars." A Gaelic curse hisses under Uncle Frank's breath, and he sinks down on his stool. "TEN THOOSAND DOLLARS," emphasizes Ma. "'Farr NOW," he says. Ohhhhhh, Oi shooda wrung 'is neck loike a Christmas goose when Oi had th' chance." "Mm," nods Uncle Frank. "That aaahl ye gaaaht t'say?" snaps Ma. "Th' little rat's EXTOOORTIN' oos!" Uncle Frank nods again, and silently weighs the matter. "Very well thaaan," he pronounces. "We'll pay it." "Are ye MAAAAAD?" roars Ma. "We'll pay it," reaffirms Uncle Frank. "Leave aaahl the arrangements t'me." Ma blinks uncomprehendingly. "Yarrr oota ye moind," she exhales. "Oi nevarr been," argues Uncle Frank, "maaar in me roit moind than Oi am roit now." "Mooothar'a marrcy," sighs Ma.)

Romanian troops, ordered by their King to cease resisting the Red Army, were surrendering by the thousands today in the face of a Russian onslaught that has overrun virtually all Bessarabia and northern Moldova, and carried to within 138 miles of Bucharest. Front dispatches indicated the Romanian Army had collapsed completely as the 2nd and 3rd Soviet Ukranian Armies, advancing up to 28 miles in 24 hours, rolled to within 40 miles or less of the Galati Gap to Southern Romania, and 118 miles west of the great oil center of Poleti.

("You gotta sign 'im up," declares Sally. "It's t'lawr. Y'wanna troon't officeh comin'aroun'?" "Easy f'you t'say," mutters Alice, her face clouded. "Leonoreh don' go t'school yet." "Yeh," concedes Sally, "but she's gonna be goin' backa t'clinic upta NYU t'eh. An' I ain' pullin'eh outa t'at, Docteh Minkoff says she'll be fine." "It ain'a same," dismisses Alice. "Ain' awlem kids runnin'aroun, y'don' know wheh t'ey been. B'sides, I don' know as I like lett''n'm outa'oueh sight. Long as he's wit' Siddy durin'a day, I know nut'n's gonna happ'n. No polio, no Marie Belasco." "Marie Belasco," scoffs Sally. "Of awladamn t'ings. Marryin' Hops Gaffney. I neveh liked 'eh when she was aroun'eeh, an' now I really don' like 'eh. She ain' jus' rotten, she's crazy. T'at guy awlrways gimme t'willies. Y'feel 'is eyes creepin'aroun'ya wheneveh 'ese inna room. I dunno what 'e's doin' out t'eh, but t'ree t'ousan' miles? T'at ain' half fawr enough t'suit me." "Well, Marie Belasco betteh stay on'na ot'eh sideat'country, an'na Hoppeh wit'teh," growls Alice, "awr t'eh likely t'go swimmin'." 'T'ey can do awla swimmin'ey want in Califawrnyeh," shrugs Sally. "An'ney betteh do jus' t'at," glowers Alice.)

A drive last weekend to put an end to child labor law violations at Coney Island netted 44 lawbreakers involving 61 minors. Thirty-six boy and girls were found by agents of the State Department of Labor to be working in 23 establishments as late as 10 PM, with seven found working after midnight, and a few even as late as 1:30 or 2 in the morning. The Coney Island drive is part of a statewide investigation into child labor violations that has been going on for several months.

A proposal that both boys and girls be required to study homemaking in elementary and junior high schools has been submitted to the Board of Education, and is expected to go into effect this fall. The program will include nine units of instruction in foods and nutrition, home furnishing, care of the sick, care of younger children, and the use of leisure time. Education of both boys and girls to become "efficient homemakers" is "increasingly accepted as a goal of the public schools," it is stated in the preface to the proposal.

("Sonny Tufts??!?")

(Gene Krupa doesn't think this is funny.)

A 16 year old girl found wandering near Flatbush and Nostrand Avenue has been taken to Bellevue Hospital, an apparent victim of amnesia. She is described as five feet two inches in height, weighing 95 pounds, with fair skin, brown hair and brown eyes, and was wearing a white dress with black sandals, no stockings or hat, and was carrying a black alligator purse.

A Nassau County youth found himself in the Manhattan police lineup this morning, charged with stealing buses and using them to pick up fares. 16 year old Wallace Woodward of Baldwin is described as a mechanic for the North Shore Bus Lines, and is accused of breaking into the Green Line bus barns in Jamaica early Wednesday and Thursday, and helping himself to a bus, which he then drove from Jamaica to Rockville Center, where he picked up Jamaica-bound passengrs as they emerged from the subway station there. After completing his Thursday morning run, police say the youth didn't bother to return the bus. Garagemen found it parked on a nearby street. Police say Woodward collected fares at the regular ten cent rate, except for "short hauls," where he admitted he charged only a nickel. The youth will face grand larceny charges in Queens Felony Court.

(Miss Russell is saying the same thing I've been saying about the Cardinals and the draft for the past two years. WHAT GIVES???)

("Must be takin' them monkey glands, huh?" "Shut up, Bill.")

("An old lounge on stilts." Ah, Josephine, never change.)

(An old reporters' trick.)

(A yellow convertibe? THAT'S INVISIBLE!)

("What, Kraft Dinner? AGAIN?")