The Era -- Day By Day

Sally is the perfect example of how effective a high-IQ brain can be when it doesn't want to know something.

I saw the Seattle FHA orgy column wherein adolescent girls were lured to surrender for ''wolfpacks.''
Terrence is a bit tepid tea today.

("I guess she done pretty well 'eh fois' day," sighs Sally. "Misteh Ginsboig said she was awl excited when he went t'pick 'ehr'up. Tawkin' a mile a minute." "What kin'a stuff t'ey have 'eh do?" queries Alice. "Oh awl kine'sa stuff," replies Sally. "T'ey had blawks t'build wit', an' games t'play, an' cloes t'dress up in, an' books -- Leonoreh was awl excited 'bout t'books. An'ney drew lotsa pitchehs. Look heeh." Sally extracts a folded sheet from her overall pocket. "Take a lookit t'is heeh. See t'eh, t'is is Leonoreh, she's t'biggest one, ain'nat funny? An'nis one wit' glasses awn, n'at's me. An'nis one wit't coily haieh, t'at's Joe -- I guess befoeh he wen' inna soivice. An'nen down heeh, t'at's Stella, see, wit' t' tail. An'nen ovehr'n'nis side, t'at's Ma, an'nat's Willie down'eh, an'nen'nat's Uncle Frank." "She made 'im awrf'l fat," snickers Alice. "Don' let'tim see t'at, he's sensitive. But -- um -- whas'sis heeh?" "Oh," ohs Sally. "I can't quite figyeh t'at out. It looks like a head, a big squaeh head. See, t'ez t' eyes t'eh, an'na mout' down'neh. But she made it wit' t'ree eyes, ain'nat funny?" "Ah," nods Alice, pointing to a single excrescence emerging from the left side of the figure. "Wha'ssat s'posta be?" "T'at's t' funny pawrt," shrugs Sally. "I ast'eh what t'at was, an' she says 'it's his awrm.' An' I says 'well, wheh's'is ot'eh awrm?' An' she looks at me like I'm stupid an' says' "on'y GOT ONE awrm.' Ai'nat peculiyeh?" "Yeh," nods Alice, from behind a tight grin. "I neveh see nut'n like t'at befoeh." "I'm not gonna let'teh lissen t'none'a t'em shows onna radio no moeh," declares Sally. "T'eh messin' wit'teh 'magination.")

In an eleventh-hour effort to stop any impending revolt timed to coincide with the Allied invasion of Western Europe, Nazi occupation authorities have begun a fresh reign of terror and mass murder in northern France. More than 100,000 French collaborators in the Vichy militia are working with Gestapo officers in a ruthless campaign of extermination intended to stamp out the growing patriotic resistance movement known as the Maquis. Whole viillages have been eradicated in the manner of Lidice, with Vichy forces under Nazi command reported to have, in one town, herded the population into a movie theatre, which was then burned to the ground., killing all inside. Meanwhile, however, Maquis sabotage continues to escalate across France, with some 500 resistance fighters reported to have held off 5000 Germans in one village for eleven days, killing 700 Nazis in the process.

Allied troops repulsed a strong Japanese attack in the Palel area, 22 miles south of Impahl, with heavy fighting continuing in the region, it was announced in a Southeast Asia communique. Allied patrols were clashing with enemy units in many locations along the Palel road. Tokyo radio, while claiming the Allied defense of Palel was "beginning to collapse," did acknowledge that Japanese units are facing "severe counterattacks" north of Palel.


("They might as well give it away," mutters Mr. Parrott. "It's not doing THEM any good." "WHAT?" rumbles Mr. Rickey. "Um," stammers Mr. Parrott. "Nothing.")

The musical play "Oklahoma!" has been named the 1944 winner of the Pulitzer Prize for drama. Richard Rodgers and Oscar Hammerstein will divide the $500 cash prize awarded by the trustee of Columbia University. The operetta, produced by the Theatre Guild, opened to critical acclaim at the St. James Theatre on March 31, 1943. The award for literature was given to Martin Flavin for his novel "Journey In The Dark," while the award for music was presented to Howard Hanson's Symphony No. 4, Opus 34. The late Stephen Vincent Benet earned the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry, for his collection "Western Star." The award for journalism went to the New York Times for a series of articles by Benjamin Fine concerning the teaching of history in public schools and colleges. The New York Journal-American received the prize for spot news reporting, for its coverage of the saving of a two-year-old girl's life by penicillin.


(Tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick...)


(You ain't seen nothin' yet.)


(Nobody left for Leo to fight with? Maybe he should write a letter to Arky Vaughan. And meanwhile, "Leo doesn't know when to stop talking" may be the most obvious statement ever made.)


(I'm really surprised Dale Connor Ulrey doesn't demand that they take her half of the name off this strip.)


(GOOD DOG)


("Little Girl" seems to have hit a growth spurt.)


(It's either looted art, or a slab of creamed chipped beef with General Patton's face on it.)


(AMERICA'S NUMBER ONE HERO DOG would never rat anyone out to The Man.)

And in the Daily News...


"After the first, they're easy." Ah, mansplianations.


Oh. I was hoping his name actually WAS "Ace Yegg."


Tsk. The honeymoon's already over.

"Oh. Didn't you shoot craps and chase women?"


"I gave her those old magazines you had hidden under the towels!"


Well, at least it isn't a smelly old butcher's van.


"Joel McCrea! Is that YOU? Hey, maybe you could introduce me to Sturges?"


Heart attack followed by massive cranial blunt-force trauma. That really IS how he'll go.


"Some girl!"


Nick would be very disappointed in you, dear.

And also...


"Sorry, Mr. Top is taken." -- V. Flintheart.


"KILL HIM AT ONCE!" -- C. Blaze-Singh.

Terrence looks splendid in his Aero A2 with the AVG Flying Tigers crest.
Burma and dramatic set stage delay, a rendezvous of destiny awaits.

Below are a few more fun tidbit, with their captions, from the Clover Press "extras" book on "Terry and the Pirates."


"The cartoonist...found his 'Taffy' when he came across Bernice Taylor, a real-life Army nurse."



"Original [Caniff] artwork for a ground defense public service campaign."

Oh, Dude. You can see why Raven and Burms DID NOT HIT IT OFF.

Our late beloved Queen Elizabeth II served in the Second World War and her passage closed History's chronicle of the celebrated war generation. I look at Ms Taylor's photo and see beauty set with noble character and life purpose that leaves me awed by her presence.
The best and certainly greatest generation indeed.

("I tell ye," fumes Ma, "Oi don't loike it." "Ahhh," sighs Uncle Frank, pushing his glass forward for a refill, "it means noothin'." "I had th' Hoppar check up on'im," continues Ma, gushing a stream of plain seltzer into the proffered glass and sliding it back across the counter. "His name is Minkoff, aaaaand he's some koind'va teacharr at that Brooklyn College. So you tell me, what paaaarpose doos a man loike THAT have noosin' aroond in East Flatboosh, coomin' in here an' aaaskin' me a lotta fool questions." "Cood be any noombara things," sips Uncle Frank. "Maybe he's doin' resaaaarch." "Resaaarch farr th' Grand Jury!" thunders Ma. "Oi KNEW oi shouldn'a let ye taaahlk me inta reeeesoomin' aaahperations here!" "Well," belches Uncle Frank as the seltzer does its work, "whattaye waant ME t'do aboot it." "Send th' boys out t'have a talk with this man Minkoff," demands Ma. "Foind oot what his game is, an' poot a stop to it!" "Oi'll do no sooch thing," declares Uncle Frank. "Faaar woon thing, Jimmy an' Danny gaaaht their hands full. We gaaaht a ploombin' contract ovarr at the Pierrepont Hotel, an' we're aaahslo supployin' thar bar. They ain' got toime t'go runnin' aftar soom professar just because he ast'ye questions." "Do it yeself then!" counters Ma. "Oh, Nora," snaps Uncle Frank, "at MOI age? Oi'm an oold maaan!" "That ain't what'che said laaaast noit!" retorts Ma. "That was diff'runt," rejoinders Uncle Frank. "Age affects a man diff'runt in soom areas than ooothars." "Ye think so, do ye?" stings Ma. "What?" "Noothin'.")

British armored columns fought thru the bamboo-covered hills north of Kohima today to capture several strong Japanese positions, and, it was indicated in reports, to take control of the Japanese water supply. Japanese forces made several attempted counterattacks, but all were repulsed.

A P-T boat in the South Pacific manned largely by youths under the age of 21 has over the past two nights destroyed two Japanese supply barges and one larger coastal lugger, while also taking part in the sinking of six barges loaded to the gunwales with enemy troops. Skippered by Lt. J. G. Hershel Boyd, 21-year-old former star halfback at Texas Mines, the P-T boat Geisha Gooser is eighty feet of pure dynamite, bristling with guns of all calibers, and from all angles.

Red Air Force bombers, paving the way for new Soviet summer offensives, kindled 30 huge fires in raids on Lwow, biggest communications hub in southeastern Europe. A Soviet communique reported that at least six ammunition trains were destroyed, as were military stores. All bombers returned safely to their base.


(We haven't seen one of these in a while, but when we do it's always awful.)

Although the ration situation with food seems to be improving, the Office Of Price Administration anticipates that as food costs recede, clothing rationing may become necessary. Speaking to a meeting of consumers at the Hotel McAlpin yesterday, regional OPA Administrator Daniel P. Woolley reported that clothing costs have jumped by 11 percent over the past year, and declared that "positive action" needs to be taken to stem that rise. He noted that ceiling prices will soon be imposed on women's handbags, prices of which have recently skyrocketed, and that a celing on men's shirts will likely soon follow.

Police are searching for the parents of a three-week-old baby girl found abandoned in the hallway of an apartment building at 132 Park Place. The baby was dressed in a pink hat and shawl, a sweater, a white dress and pink boots, and was wrapped in a pink blanket. She was discovered by a milkman making his rounds of the building early this morning, and was taken to the New York Foundling Hospital for examination.


(Tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick...)


(I think I've figured it out. "Lichty" is the astute and amusing observer of the human condition. And "Litchy" is this guy.)

Reader Mortimer Brenner, president of the Brooklyn Council for Social Planning, congratulates the Eagle for its editorial last week endorsing the opening of a Clinton Street hostel for Japanese-American workers relocated from camps in the West. "Brooklyn has always had a fine record of mutual friendship and help among all the numerous groups that live within its borders," he observes, and it "was in the Brooklyn spirit of neighborliness and helpfulness" that the Council was formed to "represent Brooklyn in assisting these loyal individuals of Japanese descent who may seek a new home in our borough."


(Knuckleballer, huh? WELL HE'S NO FITZ! Oh, and I'm sure Mr. Mack will get along just fine with Hot Potato Hamlin.)

Umpire Tom Dunn, who clashed fiercely with Leo Durocher at the Polo Grounds on Sunday, was mysteriously absent from yesterday's game at Ebbets Field, leaving his crewmates Beans Reardon and Larry Goetz to run the game on a two-umpire basis. Dunn met yesterday morning at the National League office in Manhattan with league president Ford Frick and chief of umpires Bill Klem, along with Durocher, to discuss the Sunday incident, and Klem stated today that he has heard nothing from Dunn since the umpire left the meeting around 12:30 pm. Durocher was fined $100 for his part in the incident, and Klem noted that Leo "didn't stop talking for two hours" during the conference, arguing that he's been put out of games for every possible reason, but never, until Sunday, had he been ejected for simply standing in the coaching box with his arms folded. Durocher has not paid the $100 fine, and has insisted that he does not intend to pay it.


("You, on the other hand, I seem to -- appreciate. WHAT CAN THIS MEAN?")


(HARK! Who's writing this strip now, Harold Gray?)


("I wasn't looking." WELL SOME REPORTER YOU ARE.)


(A zoot suit on an ocean liner? My boy, it just ISN'T DONE.)


("Just a cat." )

And in the Daily News...


"Jittehbug?" scoffs Sally. "AMATCHOOR!"


Hey! I used to make these all the time!


Can This Marriage Be Saved?


"I loved you in Sullivan's Travels!"


"Yuh think so, huh? SIC 'EM SANDY! Uhhhh -- Sandy?"


You know, kid, the Red Army takes women snipers.


"Blood test? Oh no, I forgot my pocket knife!"


"Well, then sing 'Sunday, Monday, or Always!' They'll never know you're not Frankieeeeeee!"


"Web MD," 1944 edition.


Think fast! Oh, wait...

And also...


Meh. It's nothing without the smell.

Never mind the plane or contraband. Where the hell is Burms?

("Ain'at ridiculous?" fumes Sally. "Five dollehs f'nylons an'ney ain' ev'n nylons! At'sem lousy rayons we useta sell at Woolwoit's t'ree paiehs f'ra dolleh. Irregulehs too!" "Ooootrageous," agrees Uncle Frank, leaning back on his stool. "Why, Oi know a man will sell ye noylaaans farr HALF thaat!" "FRANCIS!" reprimands Ma. "Oi'll have no blaaack market taaalk in this store!" "Meeerely a jooke," grins Uncle Frank from behind his raised glass. "Y'caaan't troost nobody these days," mutters Ma, sliding a pile of nickels over the counter to Leonora, who sets immediately to work. "Daaarrty nick'l," complains Leonora, holding up a particuarly greasy specimen. "Did she say 'daaarty?'" laughs Sally. "She's pickin' up ya dialect, Ma!" "Oh," sighs Ma, "she's a clevarr choild, thaaat one is." "Oh," ohs Sally. "T'at remines me. Take a lookit t'is." She produces the folded drawing created by her daughter and pushes it across the counter. "Whatcha t'inka t'is? "Well now," nods Ma, her face crinkling in a smile as she examines the artwork. "Soomeone's a little aaartist! Oi think Oi recognize aaahla these....Oh." Her voice breaks as she notices the three-eyed, one-armed figure. "Yeh," nods Sally. "I can't figyeh t'is out neit'eh. Mus' be t'at monsteh she'n Willie awrways tawk about. I'm tellin' ya, I don't wanneh lissenin' t'no moehra t'em radio shows." "Oh, ahh," nods Ma, passing the drawing to Uncle Frank, who frowns deeply at the image." "Ye see?" whispers Ma. "Indeed," returns Uncle Frank, passing the drawing back with a scowl. "Th' vaaary oidear! Oi'm nowharr NEAR that fat!")

Agents of the Office of Price Administration are investigating the origin of more than 250,000 pounds worth of counterfeit sugar ration stamps, and have charged three Brooklyn men and a Queens resident with conspiracy to possess the bogus coupons. The four suspects were arrested by OPA agents yesterday in the area of Avenue X and Ocean Avenue in the Sheepshead Bay district, and the coupons were found in a paper bag carried by one of the men. Investigators are examining the counterfeit stamps with an ultraviolet lamp in an effort to discover clues to the printing plant where they were manufactured. Agents indicate that they believe that sugar to be obtained with the stamps was destined for the manufacture of candy, as two of the suspects are connected with that business. All four were arraigned yesterday before U. S. Commissioner Edward S. Fay.

A former copy editor for the New York Daily News, on trial in Manhattan for operating before Pearl Harbor as an unregistered agent of the Japanese government, was accused yesterday of doing "confidential work" for the Japanese Consulate. Witness Eije Ishii, a native-born Japanese-American who worked at the consulate until Pearl Harbor, testified yesterday that he was introduced to defendant Frederick Heizer White in 1940 by vice consul Shinichi Kondo, who later informed him of Wright's activities on behalf of the consuate. Ishii also testified that Kondo had on one occasion told him to prepare a sum of money to be paid over to White for services rendered. Wright's former wife, Mrs. Katherine Calvert Nelson of Provincetown, Massachusetts, also testified, describing the couple's trip to Japan in 1935, during which, she stated, they had been "pressed for money." Mrs. Nelson further testified that they had been invited to several "garden parties" by government officials while in Tokyo. "Did you meet any Japanese in Tokyo?" she was asked. "Certainly," she replied. "The place was full of them."


("Ev'ryting but steaks 'n roasts!" fumes Alice. "Izzat faieh! I ask ya!" "Eh," replies Krause, poking debris out of the burner jets on the kitchen range with a straightened paper clip. "I love a good pot roast," continues Alice. "An' y'know sump'n? We been married foeh full mont's now, an' y'know what? I ain' once in awlat time eveh wan'net t't'row a pot roast atcha." "Heh," chuckles Krause. "I mean," continues Alice, "if I HAD one.")


(These are truly times of remarkable innovation.)


(Don't worry, boys, there'll always be plenty of work for reliable hired goons.)

A survey of persons listed as having signed a petition circulated against a Clinton Street hostel for Japanese-American workers coming here from relocation camps in the west reveals that there has been practically no change in their views opposing the move. A substantial number of petition signers interviewed by the Eagle reaffirmed thier opposition, even though they also admitted thatt there were many thing they didn't know about the plan when they endorsed the petition, including not knowing most of those participating in the work program are native-born citizens of the United States, and not knowing that all of the participating workers have been investigated and cleared by both the War Relocation Authority and the FBI.


(Yeh, yeh, he's OK and everybody likes him. But don't think we'll forget about Camilli.)


(No, not "Spicy Detective.")

(Right out of Conan Doyle.)


(Settle down, Tubby, they aren't talking about food.)


(Hops Gaffney looks at Desmond, glances at the mirror, and frowns.)


(Blood and bone? Yeah, we can smell it from here.)

What happened to the rest of the Brooklyn Eagle today?

Eyes acting up on me today, I keep pressing the wrong button. Should all be there now.

And in the Daily News...


I guess I'm not the only one having trouble focusing today. But we'll muddle along as best we can. Hey Paulette, don't you know it's not safe to sit on the top of a stepladder?

DId you know Coke should always be served at exactly 34 degrees?


"Just don't stand too close to the gate. The security guards shot a guy last week."


Hey Vitamin, ever play a Human Shield?


"Hmph!" hmphs Ma. "Cigar stores! AAAAAAAHful places!"


More than you think, which, admittedly isn't saying much.


"Hey, are those the pipes like Pat Ryan smokes?? WOW!"


Wait, isn't Veronica Lake supposed to show up now?


"It's -- it's the spot where Truck McClusky was killed! Look, you can even see the crack in the tree!"


"Oh wait, this is a book on carving poultry. Oh well, same difference."

"Buff Beverly," comicstrip character names are the best.

("Ye haard me, Francis," repeats Ma, racking the slide on her 25-caliber automatic pistol. "I want ye t'take me oot t'Barren Oisland Satarrday marrnin, an' we'll practice." "You ain't shaaat a gonn in twenty yaars," dismisses Uncle Frank. "Joost loik roidin' a bicycle," snaps Ma, squinting down the sight. "You ain't rode a bicycle in twenty yaaars neither," scoffs Uncle Frank. "Look at th' papaar there, ye gombeen," scowls Ma, lowering the weapon. "Hoodlums an' riff raff terrorizin' haaanest shaapkeepars, an' not twenty blaaahcks from here. Troi THAT with me ahn they'll soon meet thaar maker!" "Nora, ye gaaht children ahroond here," protests Uncle Frank. "Ye want little Leonora mookin' aboot with a looded pistol? Ahhr William?" "She'll not get at it," assures Ma, tucking the firearm down the front of her secure location. "Me Michael left this gon in his troonk when he went t'waar farr a reason, an' this is thaat reason. I'll not be a choomp farr any joomped-oop street trash thinks'ee caan..." But Ma's assertion is interrupted by the jingling of the door, as a certain tall man with a trim moustache enters. "Good aftenoon, Mrs. Sweeney," greets Dr. Minkoff. "And you must be -- Mr. Leary, is it?" "Oi am," nods Uncle Frank, curtly examining the newcomer. "Oi believe ye have the advantage of me?" "Indeed," interjects Ma, from behind a fixed smile. "Oi don't b'lieve ye ever said ye name?" "Ah," nods Dr. Minkoff. "Quite so. I realized last time I came by that I forgot to introduce myself. Must've been the egg cream. At any rate, I thought our conversation last time was so interesting, I thought we might continue it today, perhaps over lunch?" "Well now," inhales Ma, as Uncle Frank shoots her a look. "Docteh Minkoff!" pipes a loud little voice, as Leonora skitters down the stairs into the store. "Why, hello there Leonora!" he greets. "And how are you today!" "You KNOW her?" demands Ma. "What's this aaaahl aboot!" "Well," nods Dr. Minkoff, "that's what I wanted to..." "C'mon!" interrupts Leonora! "Me'n Willie play slommasheen!" "What's that now?" puzzles Dr. Minkoff, as Ma and Uncle Frank exchange startled gapes...)

The House of Representatives is preparing to act today on a proposed resolution calling for a full investigation into the Government's seizure last week of Montgomery Ward & Company. The resolution put forward by Representative Charles Dewey (R-Illinois) would appoint a seven-member subcommittee to investigate whether the Roosevelt Administration was operating under legal authority when it ordered the Army to take over the nation's second largest mail order house and physically eject company board chairman Sewell L. Avery from his office. The Government took control of the Ward firm following the company's refusal to obey a directive from the War Labor Board to extend an expiring labor contract. The National Labor Relations Board will conduct an election next week to determine if the United Retail, Wholesale, and Department Store Employees Union CIO has a majority membership among the 9000 Ward employees in Chicago. Two days after that vote, Ward assistant manager Paul D. Sowell will go on trial for theft of government property. He was arrested yesterday by FBI agents after he removed a Government-posted placard from the lobby of the Ward offices.


(Yeah, anything's better than going back to Los Angeles.)

Big changes are coming to Brooklyn after the war, promised Parks Commissioner Robert Moses last night. Speaking at the annual election meeting of the Brooklyn Public Library at the Ingersoll Memorial Library in Grand Army Plaza, Commissioner Moses gave a talk illustrated by lantern slides, portraying such future building projects as a swimming pool and recreation center in Red Hook, the Gowanus Parkway, and the long-discussed Coney Island Oceanarium. Moses stressed that in the construction of these improvements, he proposes nothing "revolutionary in the line of city planning and organization," and warned against allowing a "middle of the road conservative" like himself to be pelted from either side of the political highway by those taking extreme positions. He promised "step by step progress toward goals that are not too far ahead, and which can be realized in this generation without breaking the bank."


(Well then. Thanks for clearing that up.)


(I wonder how Mr. and Mrs. Litchy get along?)


("BACK TO WORK AT LAST!" roars an all-too-familiar voice from the receiver, as Mr. McDonald squints at the alarm clock, its luminous hands pointing to 2 AM. "Oh no," he murmurs. "IT'S ABOUT TIME TOO!" continues the bellow. "THAT RICKEY HAS MADE A BOTCH OF EVERYTHING. OLD MEN, SCHOOLBOYS. OUTFIELDERS, SHORTSTOPS! PUT A STOP TO THIS AT ONCE! GET VAUGHAN BACK! SEND HIM A BLANK CHECK! FIRE DUROCHER! AND THEN HIRE HIM BACK AGAIN!" "Sir," sighs Mr. McDonald, "I'm joining the *football* Dodgers." "WHAAAT?" returns the roar. "WHY DO A FOOL THING LIKE THAT! UNLESS BRUISER KINARD CAN PLAY SHORTSTOP! THAT'S AN IDEA! SIGN HIM FOR THE YEAR AT $4500! DON'T GIVE HIM A PENNY LESS!" "No sir," groans Mr. McDonald, flopping flat on his back. "AND ONE MORE THING!" bellows the bellow. "GET BACK MY MOOSEHEAD! AND STOP CALLING ME WITH ALL THESE FOOL QUESTIONS, BOY! DON'T YOU KNOW THERE'S AN INVASION COMING! I'VE GOT TO GET HITLER'S ASHTRAY!" "Hitler doesn't smoke, sir." "WELL, HE WILL WHEN HE HEARS I'M COMING!" erupts the voice. "THINK FOR YOURSELF BOY! AND DON'T CALL ME AGAIN!" "No sir," sobs Mr. McDonald.)


(Oh come on, she's a writer? Where's the baggy eyes? Where's the tired slump?)


("We we we, all the way home!")


(Ohhhhhh, her name is "LEGS." NOW I GET IT!)


(This can't be New York. He got a cab right off!)


(Poor Kitty. It's awful to be the only one with a brain.)

ANd in the Daily News...


I wish Miss Trini Sarmiento a long and vigorous life.


THE REVOLUTION BEGINS


Poor Vitamin. A "Dear John" letter already. Oh well, it's for the best.


We've been following Annie long enough to know that whenever she says "you know best," she means "what a dope!"


As with everything in wartime, it's a matter of priorities.


"Hah!" snorts Sally. "Go t'Woolwoit's! Awl on one flooeh!"

The Writers Guild won't like this!


Eh, whattaya got to lose?


Uncut pages? Leave it that way, it'll be worth more someday.


You will, if you keep running like that!