The Era -- Day By Day

[Fading Fast]

"We laaaast mooney in 1944," declares Uncle Frank. "It's roit tharrr ahn th' tax faaaarm." "Are ye SURE we're spoosta foile a joint retaaarn?" frowns Ma. "Yearr was aaaahlmoost ovarr boi th' toime we got married. Oi wish ye'd moind ye ooon business an' leave me t'moine. Oi been dooin' thim faaarms evaars since Mistarr Lieb retoired, an' Oi ain't in prison yet." "Trooost an expaaart," boasts Uncle Frank. "Whaaar warrr ye laast noit?" injects Ma. "Oh," ohs Uncle Frank. "Oi went ovarrr t'Bensonharrst, helped Sally with haaarrr taxes." Ma glares hard. "Ye BETTAAAAAAR NAAAAAHT have..." "Ev'rything was paaaaarfectly aboov baaard," reassures Uncle Frank. "Oi merely pointed oot a few -- dedooctions." "Oi got one choild in a prison camp," warns Ma. "Oi doon't want th' oothar woon goin' t' Alcatraz." "That'd nevarrr happen," argues Uncle Frank. "Ye surrrre a' that?" demands Ma. "Oi AM," affirms Uncle Frank "They doon't SEND women t' Alcatraz!"

I've often thought that Ma must have a big stash of cash or bonds that she bought with that cash, as she runs a small but active bookmaking business, which brings in a lot of profit that she, for sure, doesn't declare. She lives a very modest lifestyle, so what does she do with her money?

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"Master Brown is a fine clean-cut lad," declares Mr. Rickey. "A choice specimen of wholesome Brooklyn youth." "Yes sir," eyerolls Mr. Parrott. "Keep him away," warns Mr. Rickey, "from -- ah -- you know.." "Yes sir," sighs Mr. Parrott...



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"Hmph," hmphs Gypsy. "You could do better.""Hmph," hmphs Gypsy. "You could do better.""Hmph," hmphs Gypsy. "You could do better."

June must have listened to her sister as she and George never married.

BTW, the Nicoll story is so perfectly Page Four. Nothing spectacular, just a good walking in and catching people, who shouldn't be, naked. It happens a lot in the 1940s.

 

[LizzieMaine]

I imagine Ma has her money stashed in all sorts of arrangements, and I suspect that she might also be helping to finance certain of Uncle Frank's enterprises. Maybe after the war, she can buy him a new truck.

She's also sort of a prisoner of her desire to keep Sally oblivious to what's really going on. Should she ever start flouncing around in a fox stole LIKE SOME PEOPLE, tongues would wag, so she does her best to live just as she did twenty-five years ago to remain below suspicion. The distractions of the war have helped her in that respect, but postwar? Who knows??

 

[Fading Fast]

I imagine Ma has her money stashed in all sorts of arrangements, and I suspect that she might also be helping to finance certain of Uncle Frank's enterprises. Maybe after the war, she can buy him a new truck.

She's also sort of a prisoner of her desire to keep Sally oblivious to what's really going on. Should she ever start flouncing around in a fox stole LIKE SOME PEOPLE, tongues would wag, so she does her best to live just as she did twenty-five years ago to remain below suspicion. The distractions of the war have helped her in that respect, but postwar? Who knows??

It's not really comparable, but my grandmother ran a small biz that was nearly bankrupt throughout the Depression and just scrapped by until after the war. In the 1950s, it did okay, but she continued to live in the same run-down tenement she had always lived in, while driving the same beat-up old car. She was far from rich - far from - but she could have afforded to live a bit better, but she never did. I understand why because I knew her well. The Depression scarred people in ways that succeeding generations (and it's not their fault) can't understand if they didn't - like I did - at least really truly know some people who lived through it.

And heck, at least they'll be money for Leonora's college tuition.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And add to all that what Ma must've gone thru when her first husband "disappeared" in 1918. Two kids, alone in a city that must've still seemed foreign to her in a lot of ways. Uncle Frank came along at just the right time to help her get thru that, but no doubt there is part of her that will never fully trust anyone again. A lot of things have combined to make the young Irish farm girl of 1905 into what she is forty years later, much of which she has, no doubt, not revealed to anyone...

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Good!" proclaims Ma. "That Baaarton Tookas has th' roit oidear! Goo aftar th' killars an' the bandits, an' leave honest bookmakarrs aloon." "Who's that again?" replies Uncle Frank, absently picking at a substance on his plate that might pass in dim light for corned beef. "Baaarton Tookas," repeats Ma. "Taaaaarkus," corrects Uncle Frank. "That's what Oi said," snaps Ma. "No ye didn't," insists Uncle Frank. "Ye said Baarton Tookas. *Tookas.*" "Yarrrr daft," dismisses Ma. "Oi'm no sooch thing," declares Uncle Frank. "Ye said Tookas! That's naaaht a man's name, that means, ahhh, in th' Jewish toongue, it means -- ah -- ye hoind end. Ye boom." "Oi knoo what a tookas is," contends Ma. "Soomtoimes Oi think Oi'm livin' with woon. Boot Oi did NAAAHT say Baaaarton Tookas! Noo shoot oop an' eatcharr soopar. "Ye did too," snickers Uncle Frank, thru a mouthful of corned beef. "Good ol' Baaaaaarton Tookas....")

("Wou'ja LIKE ta SWING onna STAWRRRR.." croons Alice. "Carry MOONbeams home inna JAWRRR..." "Eh," ehs Sally. "T'at pitcheh was awright, I guess. Crawsby, he was OK. T'at ot'eh guy t'ough, he bugged me. You know, one played t'ot'eh Faw'teh." "Barry Fitzgeral'," inserts Alice. "Yeh," nods Sally. "T'at guy. I hate in a pitcheh, guy puts awn one'a t'em phony Irish accents, y'know. Anytime in a pitcheh ya got a cawp awr a pries', an' it's awl 'sure an' begorrah,' an' awlat junk. Nobody tawks like t'at." "I neveh hoid nobody," eyerolls Alice. "Awrmos'as bad," declares Sally, "as'em phonies tryin'a soun' like Brooklyn!" "Yeh," nods Alice. "We'ht'eygettatstuff?")

("Whooozis guy t'ink he is?" snorts Bink Scanlan.....)

(Look, Mr. Holmes, if you're going to tell Van Lingle Mungo stories, tell, you know, the good ones. You know the kind.)

(I mean, at least it's a plot we haven't seen before...)

(I spent all last week going on job interviews AND THIS NEVER HAPPEND TO ME ONCE.)

(Fish in a barrel.)

(He knows she's there from the constant gasps.)

(AMERICA'S NUMBER ONE HERO DOG is missing the point...)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

6 foot 3? Watch out, Lois DeFee!

Well, I hope he got dressed first.

"The 'Modern Farmer Program?' But you're neither!"

You really aren't very good at this, are you?

Skeez is really putting on some beef, isn't he?

The thing about being Andy Gump is that people can ALWAYS see you coming.

Terry, you idiot, KEEP YOUR HEAD DOWN.

"Paprika?"

So many good ideas fail the proof-of-concept.

So much for "Mister."

 

[LizzieMaine]

And also...

"Uh oh," gulps Sally. "Look 'eeh." "I tol'ya nawt t'bring'at papeh t'woik," warns Alice. "Ya gonna get in trouble." ""Yeh, yeh, whateveh," dismisses Sally. "But look heeh -- t' Sevent' Awrmy. Attackin' fr'm t' Sout'. T'at's Joe." "Oh," ohs Alice, glancing at the headline. "Whassis 'Speedway?' Zat like up in Hawrlem, up t'eh by t' Poleh Grouns?" "Neh," nehs Sally. "'S a big, you know, highway. Like t' Belt Pawrkway, on'y biggeh." "You ain' gotta worry, Sal," reassures Alice. "Joe ain' gonna have nut'n'a do wit'tat." "I ain' had but one letteh fr'm 'im since 'ee got shawt," notes Sally. "Who knows what's goin' awn?" "Well, you oughn'a worry 'bout none'a t'is," insists Alice. "Joe don' even know howta drive..."

 

[Fading Fast]

An audible sigh of relief can be heard from Valley Stream Long Island.

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As Lizzie says, "movies on paper."