The Era -- Day By Day

[Fading Fast]

"A radio tube!" he announces. "Somebody musta BURIED it 'eeh! Maybe SPIES!" "Yeh," eyerolls Alice, looking up at the second-floor window of the Petrauskas kitchen. "T'at mus' be it..."



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I'm sensing a Venn diagram overlap between the last two items. Also, I know today we're not allowed to notice a difference between the sexes unless it is one that is favorable to women, but the pocketbook change thing was a chronic complaint back in the days when change was still used all the time, which the change purse was supposed to solve, but all that really happened was the woman dug around in her purse looking for the change purse instead of for the change. Then the change purse came out and the change had to be picked out amidst the stamps, paperclips and other sundry items in the "change" purse.

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Well, the fat's in the fire for Annie. So to speak.

Grab Sandy, drop the coat at the police station with a note, and skip town.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Eight hunnet'n'ninety gran' shawrt," mutters Sally, slapping the paper on her lap. "What is WRAWNG wit' people? Ev'rybody t'inks t'wawr is awready oveh an'neh savin' up t'buy a bungalow on Lawng Islan' a' sump'n. Awlese people onnis cawr -- lookit'at dame oveh t'eh by t'doeh. She didn' get t'at hat at Namm's. Nooooooooo, nawt heh nibs. She gawt't'at hat at Oppenheim-Cawlins awr Loesehs a' Mawrtin's a' one'a T'EM places. But how much you t'ink she give t''Red Crawss, huh?" "Go ask 'eh," shrugs Alice, focusing her gaze on a Swan Soap ad upon which someone has scratched a goatee on a picture of Gracie Allen. "No," nos Sally, "I ain' gonna do t'at. An' ya know why? 'Cause I'm SANE." "Y'awr?" questions Alice. "I AM," insists Sally. "Me'n Docteh Levine tawked it oveh. I'm so sane I can't cope wit' awl t' insanity inna woil' aroun' me. An' jus' t'PROVE how sane I am, I am NOT gonna go oveh t'eh an' tellat dame we'h t'get awff." "She awready did," observes Alice. "Jus' got awff at DeKalb Aveneh." "Figyehs,"fumes Sally. "An' jus' t'show ya how sane I am, I ain' gonna say nut'n about dames 'at get awff at DeKalb Aveneh." "I got awff at DeKalb Aveneh one time," shrug Alice. "Yawr diff'rn't," frowns Sally. "So're you," sighs Alice.)

("It's good farr business too," affirms Ma. ""As laaang as we doon't get anoothar visit from Mistarr Durocharr's friends," notes Uncle Frank, sipping his two-cents-plain. "Oi'll nivarr farrget that," eyerolls Ma. "Sally an' that fool Alice Dooley sendin'im anaaanymoos telegrams but usin' THIS STORE farr th'address." "Oh, it tarrned oot all roit," shrug Uncle Frank. "An' oof carrse, Mistarr Durocharr's a big radio star now, Oi'm sure he doesn't assoociate with loow charactarss no marr. Oi mean, aside from caaamedians." "Gaaahd f'bid," nods Ma.)

(Of course, I'd settle for a new pair of shoes.)

(Don't be surprised that Sukey is ready to play ball at 42. I knew him when he was in his 80s, and he still could have caught at least an inning or two...)


("Hey," heys Bink Scanlan between snaps of her gum. "Tell me sump'n." "Very well," nods Inky Quinlan. "I should like very much to conclude our evening's toil and leave this dismal warehouse, but to accomplish this I shall require from you less conversation and more -- ah -- perspiration." "T'at ain' what I meant," snickers Bink, lackadasically sliding two bottles into a crate. "Tell me t'is -- d'you eveh go out t'movies?" "Motion pictures are bad for the vision," sniffs Inky, "and are much to be avoided by an artisan in my line of endeavor." "T'at ain' what I meant," dismisses Bink. "What I'm askin' is d'you eveh go out t'movies --wit' goils?" "Ah," ahs Inky. "I would suggest that this is a matter best not..." "Ya fathead," snorts Bink. "What I'm askin' is do YOU wanna go out t'wa movie wit' ME?" "Oh my," inhales Inky. "I fear you have - ah - misinterpreted.." "T'ey got t'at Meet Me In St. Louis t'ing at Loew's Met," continues Bink. "But ya know, a goil goin' in a pitcheh show alone, people notice ya. I don' like t'be noticed." "But, ah," stammers Inky, "the difference in our ages..." "Settle down, Pop," guffaws Bink. "I ain' askin' ya awn a DATE, I wawnna go t'eh an' -- you know -- do a lit'l business." "Uh.." uhs Inky, completely nonplussed. Bink rolls her eyes, gives Inky a swift hip, extracts his wallet from his pocket and flips it back to him with a derisive snort. "You know," she laughs. "BUSINESS." "Ohhhh," exhales Inky. "That is, of course, a different matter. But I -- POP????")

"Trim bims with the broad brims?"

(I dunno, I hear Michigan CIty, Indiana is a wide-open town...)

(You aren't wearing makeup? You mean those lashes are real???)

(You won't be able to see any of it but that's the price we must pay for beauty..)

(Don't be too impressed, he didn't even comb his hair. And he bought that suit off a retired headwaiter.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

"All right, which one of you clowns threw in all these MacArthur buttons???"

"The Earth's Outstanding Gorilla Personalities!" Hmph, have they been guest panelists yet on "Information Please?"

"It's where I keep my heroin!"

Ten silver dollars! Could it be Doctor I. Q.???

"At last! Free help!" -- Phyllis.


She won't take it well...

"Who has time? I just signed up for the square-dancing class!"

A kid just can't have any fun.

"Why, I remember when he used to hide under my front porch!"

Start packing, kid.

 

[Fading Fast]

"I ain' gonna do t'at. An' ya know why? 'Cause I'm SANE." "Y'awr?" questions Alice.



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"Sally an' that fool Alice Dooley sendin'im anaaanymoos telegrams but usin' THIS STORE farr th'address."

Sometimes I forget all the crazy stuff Sally's done. My father would have disowned her the minute the law allowed.

"Daughter? What Daughter? What are you talking about? I don't have a daughter."

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"Hey," heys Bink Scanlan between snaps of her gum. "Tell me sump'n." "Very well," nods Inky Quinlan. "I should like very much to conclude our evening's toil and leave this dismal warehouse, but to accomplish this I shall require from you less conversation and more -- ah -- perspiration." "T'at ain' what I meant," snickers Bink, lackadasically sliding two bottles into a crate. "Tell me t'is -- d'you eveh go out t'movies?" "Motion pictures are bad for the vision," sniffs Inky, "and are much to be avoided by an artisan in my line of endeavor." "T'at ain' what I meant," dismisses Bink. "What I'm askin' is d'you eveh go out t'movies --wit' goils?" "Ah," ahs Inky. "I would suggest that this is a matter best not..." "Ya fathead," snorts Bink. "What I'm askin' is do YOU wanna go out t'wa movie wit' ME?" "Oh my," inhales Inky. "I fear you have - ah - misinterpreted.." "T'ey got t'at Meet Me In St. Louis t'ing at Loew's Met," continues Bink. "But ya know, a goil goin' in a pitcheh show alone, people notice ya. I don' like t'be noticed." "But, ah," stammers Inky, "the difference in our ages..." "Settle down, Pop," guffaws Bink. "I ain' askin' ya awn a DATE, I wawnna go t'eh an' -- you know -- do a lit'l business." "Uh.." uhs Inky, completely nonplussed. Bink rolls her eyes, gives Inky a swift hip, extracts his wallet from his pocket and flips it back to him with a derisive snort. "You know," she laughs. "BUSINESS." "Ohhhh," exhales Inky. "That is, of course, a different matter. But I -- POP????"

Oy.

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In 1945, Easter falls on April 1, but in 2025 it falls on April 20. I get that they are trying to align to a Sunday, but somehow you would think it would be within seven days of itself each year.

The flowered hat girl looks like Ella Raines.