The Era -- Day By Day

LizzieMaine said:

Mr. Caniff has carefully encoded all you need to know about Sanjak in her name -- among the "sanjaks," or subprovinces, of the old Ottoman Empire, was the Isle of Lesbos.

Click to expand...

The Ottoman dates to the Fifteenth Century but past the Romans there was Sappho, poet laureate lesbian
of Lesbos whose verse works equally heterosexual superb charm with cockey tarts and pedigreed ladies spanning Spitalfields to Cambridge and beyond to New York pizzeria.

("Crooked butchehs, people stealin' fr'm t' Mawrch a' Dimes," huffs Alice. "What's happ'nin' t' people? I t'ought we was awl s'posta be onna same side!" "F'somebody says y'been aroun'," sighs Sally, leaning back with her eyes closed, "y'sueh don' tawk like it. As long as t'ez a way t'make a crooked buck off an angle, t'ez somebody gonna do it." "Yeh," shrugs Alice. "I guess. Don' seem right t'ough." "I'm glad me 'n Mickey wasn' raised t'at way," adds Sally. "Non'a t'at in oueh fam'ly. Ma wouldn' stan' fawr'it." "Yeh," nods Alice, her mouth a tight line quivering slightly at the ends.)

Allied bombers and fighters ranging over the key bases of Japan's southwest Pacific defense lines in their heaviest air actions in recent weeks shot down or probably destroyed a total of 65 enemy planes, it was reported yesterday in a communique. Only three Allied planes were lost Sunday in attacks on the Wewak airdrome, main center for enemy air power in New Guinea, and on Rabaul, Japan's much-battered "little Pearl Harbor" on the northern tip of New Britain Island. Heavy bombers and their fighter escort dumped 105 tons of bombs on the Wewak airdrome, and shot down 33 enemy fighters and probably twelve others during the first raid on that area since January 19th.

The possibility of a drive to persuade Governor Thomas E. Dewey to seek the Republican presidential nomination in 1944 is seen as a likely result of uneasiness among the Congressional GOP delegation at the persistence of Wendell Willkie's campaign. The "Stop Willkie" movement in the Republican Party has expressed the belief that it would be "hazardous" to allow Willkie to go to the party convention in Chicago this summer without the opposition of at least one "widely supported and vigorous" candidate. Talk of a move toward Dewey as that possible candidate was fanned by the evident reluctance of Ohio Governor John W. Bricker to step forward to seek the nomination. While there was no significant antipathy toward Bricker from party leaders, there is the conviction at the top of the GOP that, before Bricker is fully embraced as the "Stop Willkie" candidate, there must appear more evidence that he truly has a national base of support thru the appearance of convention delegates pledged to Bricker in "a good many states."


("T'at ain' gonna help you none, Joe," comments Miss Kaplan. "Ain' you awready hadja physical?" "T'ey didn' do much," shrugs Joe. "Jus' looked me oveh, stuck me wit' a t'ing t'get some blood, an' stamped me 1-A. Felt like a side'a beef. Grade 1-A Cherce Inspected." "Really?" questions Miss Kaplan, glancing at Joe's waist. "Wit't'at -- whatcha got't'eh?" "Whattaya mean?" huffs Joe. "I weigh a hunnet'n sixty-two poun's. I ain' no tub like -- oh, like Mozelewski oveh t'eh." "Yeh," nods Miss Kaplan, "but he don' carry it like you. He spreads it out awloveh, but you -- well, if I hadda spaeh tieh like t'at I'd toin it inta t' OPA." "T'Awrmy guy looked me oveh said t'at won' las' long," protests Joe. "He says two weeks at Camp Upton, an' I'm gonna be sleek as a greyhoun'." "Yeh," snickers Miss Kaplan. "A Greyhoun' bus!" "Hmph," hmphs Joe, wiping his hands on a shop rag. "If madame will excuse me, I'll be eat'n lunch alone." )

One hundred emergency coal depots, to serve householders with empty or near-empty coal bins, will open tomorrow for cash-and-carry sales, it has been announced by the Department of Markets. The depots, to be operated by dealers unequipped with their own coal yards, will be located in strategic residential areas, and will serve those able to carry away their own coal put up in 50 and 100 pound bags. Meanwhile, milder weather this week has seen a decline in the number of no-heat emergencies, with the number recorded over the 48 hours ending at 4 PM yesterday totalling 1471. Almost every complaint was investigated and 863 were certified as emergency cases.

If anyone doubts that the detachment of WAVES now training at Smith College in Northhampton, Massachusetts are Navy all the way, those doubts would be dispelled by an advertising circular now floating around the campus. The flyer, mailed out by a tattoo shop, promises to "beautify American womanhood" with images of anchors, battleships, tracer shells, anti-aircraft guns, and the American flag.


("A 'Joe Parrrrty," reads Ma. "What a foine ideear. We ought do soomthin' loike that farr Joseph, before he...." "That remoinds me," interrupts Uncle Frank, leaning back on his stool and twiddling his empty glass. "Oi need to go see Mr. Sharkey. He's a bit behoind on his bill." "Watch thaat one, Francis," warns Ma. "He's slippery." "He can slip aahl'ee wants," chuckles Uncle Frank, "but he can't hoide!")

The Eagle Editorialist deplores the trend toward grandiose new military titles for high ranking American generals and admirals. Such proposed titles as "Admiral of the Fleet," "Marshal," and similar appelations are foreign to the American spirit, and it is hoped that the important military figures of the current war will instead follow the examples of such past generals as Washington, Grant, Sheridan, Sherman, and Pershing in maintaining standard military titles for the duration. If, after the war, it seems appropriate to designate one or more of these men as "General of the Armies," in recognition of their contribution to the Allied victory, then so be it.


("Um, I know it's just a laundry basket on an end table, but we call it a crib, OK?")


(Alice Marble!!! We've missed ya, kid!)


(Kitty says "not me bud, this isn't even my strip!")


(Your name is Eric? Of course it is.)


("Try Woolworths!")


(And just like that, Scarlet gained -- the comparative strength of a guinea pig!)


(There's something wrong with this whole family.)

And in the Daily News...


A sex cult -- in Boston? Aren't they cold?


They're wild, they're ferocious, they claw, they bite, they stink, they leave their poo everywhere, and they only eat eucalyptus leaves. HAVE A COKE!


C'mon, Tracy, everybody knows you drew on that hair with an eyebrow pencil.


"Kid, he won't be lookin' atcha hair."


Phyllis puts the "mother" in "smother."


You're slipping, kid. That one went right past you.


Better let your little boy handle this. You'll end up tied to a chair.


"Um -- we better order more stock!"


Before Emmy married Lord Plushbottom, she had an unrequited crush on Moon. Good thing she got over it.


Musical score by Max Steiner.

Terrence can rack two kills now and at least $5000 for the Zero.

("Y'know, I met t'at Rosen guy oncet," recalls Alice. "When I was drivin' a truck f'y' Uncle Frank. Me'n Mickey was out makin'a d'livery a' -- um -- you know, coppeh pipe --an' we stopped itna t'is stoehr'in Brownsville, y'know, t'get a bite. Mickey had, you know, a lemon phosphate, an' I had a Coke, right? A Coke. An' we shot t' breeze wit' t' guy runnin'a place. Toin't out t'be t'is Rosen guy. Coupla weeks lateh I look inna papeh, see he's been kilt. Awrful t'ing, t' Daily News had it wit' awlese bloody pitchehs of 'im layin' onna flooeh'ra t' jernt. I guess runnin' a canny stoeh c'n be a dangerous business." "Neh," shrugs Sally. "Ma run her place f'Misteh Lieb f'musta been, what, fifteen yeehs, an'nen when he retiehed, an' she took oveh t'place f'reh'self, why, ain' nut'n eveh happ'nt t'at was dangehrous. Maybe a few times kids run out wit'out payin', an' maybe t'at one time t'em goons come in'neh, tried t'bust up t'place 'causa t'em telegrams SOMEBODY was sendin' t'Durocheh." "Oh yeh," blushes Alice. "I'm still sawry 'bout t'at, y'know. Hey, I remembeh Misteh Lieb. Whateveh happ'nt'a him?" "He moved upstate," shrugs Sally. "Sawl I know." "Nice country up t'eh," nods Alice.)

German bombers sank an Allied hospital ship and attacked two others during a 5th Army landing south of Rome. The vessels were attacked despite the fact that they were fully lighted and well outside the landing zone. An announcement from Allied military headquarters noted that the Nazi planes made several runs over the defenseless hospital ships and dropped flares to further illuminate the ships as targets. Loss of life aboard the vessels was believed to have been low because of prompt rescue work by other Allied vessels in the area.

A petition calling for a court review and determination of Police Commissioner Lewis J. Valentine's decision to dismiss charges of anti-Semitism and anti-Americanism against Patrolman James LeRoy Drew of Brooklyn was filed today in Manhattan Supreme Court. The petition requests that the Commissioner revoke Drew's appointment to the police force and dismiss him from service. The petition, filed in the name of the 276 3rd Avenue (Brooklyn) Realty Concern and its agent Irwin Slater of Mahattan, also demands that Commissioner Valentine release copies of all testimony during the departmental hearings into the Drew matter held before Deputy Commissioner Michael Lyons. The petition requests that the case be brought to trial in Special Term Court on February 7th.


(In the basement of 503 Rogers Avenue, Ma pokes carefully at the old masonry walls with a long steel rod, testing the mortar for weak spots. "Faaaar croyin' oot loud, Nora," remonstrates Uncle Frank. "Ya goot a droog store aahn woon soide an' a cleaners' shop on th' oothaar. Whoo exactly d'ye think is gaaaana coom burrowin' in here?" "Have ya seen a look at that pharmacist," demands Ma. "The dartin' fishy oyes of a smaaal toime crook." "Thaaat pharmacist is no crook," insists Uncle Frank. "He's joost extremely nearsoited." "Never ye mind that, Francis," dismisses Ma. "Grab that broom handle tharr an' starrt pookin'. We got valuables down heere an' oi'll not hav'm hoisted!" "What valuables? chuckles Uncle Frank, gesturing at the moldy old trunk and the soot-covered pipes. "Are ye blind, man?" retorts Ma. "Look at aahl that coal!")

Representative Emanuel Celler (D-New York) today condemned Great Britain for its stand on Palestine, and accused official Washington of failing to aid the Jews of Western Europe, holding out only President Roosevelt as their only hope. Speaking to an audience of more than 1000 persons as the sixth annual luncheon of the Brooklyn Women's Division of the American Jewish Congress at the Hotel St. George, Rep Celler warned that "we must awaken the consciousness of America to its responsibilities in the crisis now confronting the Jews now imprisoned in 'Fesung Europe.' We must galvanize America and even England into action. Otherwise there can be no hope for the Jews still alive within the confines of Axis-controlled Europe."Celler forcefully condemned the British mandate of 1939 limiting Jewish immigration to Palestine, denouncing "that damnable White Paper," and promising not to rest until that mandate is "torn to shreds." "I shall keep up a forceful fight," he declared, "so that Palestine is not sold down the river."

Meanwhile, Senator James M. Mead (D-New York) agreed with Rep. Celler's declaration, stating that he too will fight to see the 1939 White Paper "torn to shreds." Speaking at Lawrence High School in the Zionist district of Rockaway County, Senator Mead urged that the United Nations take up the cause of the Jewish people and that they be given "thru the formation of a Jewish commonwealth, the opportunity of taking their place in dignity and honor among the world family of peoples."


("I read t'at book," comments Mozalewski. "T'at 'For Whom T' Bells Toll.'" "You read books," snickers Miss Kaplan. "I figyehed you f'r moer'va Batman type a' guy." "Nah," shrugs Mozelewski. "It was a pretty good book too. 'Bout t'ese guys blowin' up a bridge. I t'ought it was pretty good, y'know, f't'at kin' of a book. I seen'a movie too, an'nit bugged me. Took a lawng time comin' to t'pernt, awlat kissin' an' stuff. You eveh read t'at book, Joe?" "Neh," shrugs Joe. "Who's got time f'readin' books?" "I'll give it to ya," offers Mozelewski. "Give ya sump'n t'read in camp. Oh," he adds, flicking a glance at Miss Kaplan, "Batman's pretty good too.")


(Some things will never, ever change.)

The Eagle Editorialist urges the start of a campaign to put a referendum to kill Proportional Representation on the fall ballot, criticizing the "reformers who were responsible for hanging this idea around Father Knickerbocker's neck," and asserting that only "Communists and the leftist bloc" believe that P. R. is working in the city. The EE nominates Parks Commissioner Robert Moses as the ideal man to lead a P. R. repeal drive, even though Moses has already stated that he has no time for such a venture.


(It's always interesting to see what a shoestring operation baseball still is in 1944. No team is owned by a corporate conglomerate -- most are either family businesses like the A's, the Senators, and, in a sense still the Dodgers, or hobbies for bored millionaires like the Red Sox, the Cardinals, the Cubs, and the Giants. And then there's the Browns, a shabby operation run like a neighborhood candy store, only without the profitable back room...)


(Lux or Sweetheart?)

("Oh boy, lemonade powder and cigarettes!")


(Tubby is Irwin Higgs' kid brother.)

(Check to see if there's ipecac in the bathroom. If not, well, you've got that finger.)


("She always comes out to throw a frying pan at me when I try to sneak in like this! Haw! Haw!")

And in the Daily News...


They really ought to be able to get a coupon deal from the divorce court.


In case you forgot.


Power of the Press.


WHAT ARE YOU INSINUATING


It's not like she taught you to dance.


Maybe you should send a telegram.


NO BRISKET FOR YOU.


"TRAPPED! Just like -- um -- all those other times!"


"The sling IS pretty nifty, huh?"

Wait'll he has to sleep in a bureau drawer.

So what really did happen to Mr. Lieb?

Unbelievably, Tubby is stupider than Irwin, and that's not easy to do.

I haven't been able to find Mr. Lieb to ask him, but I suspect that he and Uncle Frank had a long conversation about the advantages of retirement. Poor old man needed to get away and enjoy his golden years in peace.

Terrence our lad is now a virgin lady killer.

LizzieMaine said:

I haven't been able to find Mr. Lieb to ask him, but I suspect that he and Uncle Frank had a long conversation about the advantages of retirement. Poor old man needed to get away and enjoy his golden years in peace.

Click to expand...

Ah, the offer you can't refuse.

("Wisht I could get holda som'a t'is penicillin," sighs Sally. "T'ese infections Leonoreh gets inneh eeh ev'ry winteh -- I t'ink t'eh gett'n woise. I dropped a pan onna flooeh las' night an' she didn' even toin aroun'. I wondeh if she's havin' trouble heehrin'." "Nah, ya awrways droppin' pans," dismisses Alice. "I seen ya. Y'don' like doin' dishes an' ya slam 'em aroun', n'wondeh y'dropp'm onna flooeh. One good t'ing 'bout havin'a kid, t'ough, when she gets oldeh, y'c'n make HER do t' dishes. Wisht I had a kid." "I read inna magazine t'ey make t'is penicillin outa moldy awranges an' stuff," continues Sally. "I t'ink I got one inna icebox t'eh, I wonneh what y'hafta do, do y'berl it down onna stove, a'what. I t'ink afteh woik t'night I'm gonna go oveh't liberry an' see what I c'n find out." "I t'ink it'd be great t'have a kid aroun'a house," muses Alice. "Y'know, I'm findin' Siddy don' like to tawk too much. He's a swell guy'n'awlat, but he hawrdly eveh says nut'n -- c'ept when'nat kid Willie comes oveh. I wondeh if he'd like t'have a kid aroun' too." "Somp'n t'do t'is weekend," chuckles Sally. "Yeh," muses Alice.)

Brooklyn housewives were today assured of savings in purchases of fresh fish with counters flooded by an oversupply of flounder, cod, haddock, and fluke, and with the announcement of new fish ceiling prices by the Office of Price Administration. Those prices run from a low of 14 cents a pound for herring to 50 cents a pound for flounder fillets and 62 cents a pound for filet of sole. Markets Commissioner Henry M. Brundage predicted the new ceilings will save consumers an average of 10 to 20 percent over the previous price structure. The new ceilings reflect the practical glutting of New York markets with fresh fish since the end of the fishermen's strike, with big hauls coming in daily. Cod, haddock, fluke, pollock, and flounder are especially plentiful.

A Brooklyn Democrat introduced legislation today in the State Senate that would bar the employment of women as bartenders. The bill, introduced by Senator Edward J. Coughlin, provides that no retail establishment where liquor is sold for on-premises consumption shall employ any woman to draw, pour, or mix drinks at the bar, with an exception made for the wife of the proprietor. Coughlin noted that the bill has the support of the State Department of Labor.

Climbing steadily toward its quota in the Fourth War Loan Drive, Brooklyn's total War Bond sales for the campaign now stand at $15,223,300, over 21 percent of the goal of $71,500,000. That is a better percentage than the city as a whole, with New York's five boroughs having combined so far to attain 19 percent of the city-wide quota of $698,500,000.


("Inhuuuman," sighs Ma, glancing over the counter at Willie playing happily at a table.)


("We hadda goose f'T'anksgivin'," recalls Joe. "Whatta boid. Great big t'ing, kinda lawng an' skinnny, but it soitenly hit t'spot.""Whe'd you getta goose f'T'anksgivin'," inquires Mozelewski. "I don' remembeh no stoehs havin' no geese," injects Miss Kaplan. "Y'know what I had? Meat loaf, an'nat was mos'ly bread crumbs." "I dunno," shrugs Joe, "Sal's Uncle Frank got it. He's a pretty smawrt guy, an'nee knows wheh t'get stuff. I dunno wheh he got t'is goose." "Ya bite inta any bullets?" snickers Miss Kaplan. "I did NOT," declares Joe. "An' I resent t' incineration.")


(Yeah, but you can't get sneak-fired from the Army.)

IN Hollywood, a good-looking young man who has begun to make a name for himself as a film extra was unmasked this week as a woman. Tanis Chandler, recently seen in "The Desert Song" disguised in Arab robes, was revealed as female when a director asked "him" to remove his shirt for a scene. Confessing her sex, Miss Chandler admitted that she had grown tired of her job as a teletype operator and decided to use the current shortage of male extras as a chance to break into the movies.


(Woo hoo, Alice Marble takes up her racket again! Now how about that nightclub act?)

The National League Champion St. Louis Cardinals will report to Spring Training with only 19 players on their major league roster. Cards owner Gloomy Sam Breadon lamented the possibility that the player shortage might mean even the big leagues won't be able to finish the 1944 season, but Dodger president Branch Rickey pooh-poohs his former boss's concerns, declaring that, if necessary, the Brooklyn club is capable of playing thru the season with just fifteen men.

Reds fireballer Johnny Vander Meer has been declared fit for military duty by Army doctors, but the Cincinnati club is still waiting for official word on his status. Vander Meer will report tomorrow to the Newark Induction Center.


(When you think about it it all really does make sense.)


(The "D" ration -- why the Army will reject you if you have bad teeth.)


("Well what about YOU, lady? What kind of reporter wears a fur coat?")


(That's the thing with super powers. You can never stop at just one.)


(AMERICAS NUMBER ONE HERO DOG doesn't always think things thru.)

And in the Daily News...


I give Page Four a lot of leeway, but to lead the story of a woman's tragic death with the fact that her father objected to her appearing on stage in her underpants is both offensive and dehumanizing. You deserved better, Miss Geller.

"HEY!" says Sonia Gover, Miss Rheingold 1943. "That's MY sweater!"


"Oh, and I want to stay here so I can finish the fruit basket. Stuff's hard to get these days!"

Besides, he's probably one of these phony lieutenants you see everywhere these days.


Someday people will make a whole recreational industry out of this kind of thing.


"Either I get to be a Russian sniper or I don't play at all!"


"Keep your eyes open and your mouth shut!"


True fact: the Navy slang term "gedunk" for a canteen or snack bar aboard ship is taken from "Harold Teen"-- referring to Pop Jenks' famous "gedunk sundae."


I don't remember too much about being a baby, but I do seem to remember that I didn't like all the various Uncle Willies in our neighborhood breathing their awful cigar breath in my face and saying "ootchie kootchie coo."


I rarely criticize Mr. Caniff's dialogue, but when I saw "YIPE!" here, I'm afraid I heard it yelped in Jack Benny's voice. Took me right out of the story...

Terrence has yet to learn the quick and the dead lesson but I suspect he'll learn it now.

Requiem Miss Geller, a lovely young lady taken much too soon.

("Caehful wit'tat now," warns Joe, lying on an exam table at the Willoughby Street Red Cross Headquarters with his coat off and his shirt sleeve rolled up. "Don't worry, Mr. Petrauskas," soothes the nurse. "You won't feel a --" "OW!" interrupts Joe, as the needle pierces his vein. "Sorry," apologizes the nurse. "You've got deep veins." "Yeh," winces Joe. "Sal -- at's me wife -- says t'same t'ing." Joe keeps his head turned away from the sight as his good Brooklyn blood courses thru the rubber tube. "Hey lissen," he admonishes, "Jus' a pint, okay? I'm goin' inna awrmy soon, an'ney got a claim onna rest'v it." "I'll keep an eye on it," chuckles the nurse as she monitors the flow. "An' hey," continues Joe. "What kin'a donuts t'day?" "Cinnamon or chocolate," advises the nurse. "None'a t'em ones wit' frawstin'?" Joe queries with a tinge of disappontment. "Oh," assents the nurse, "we might be able to find one.")

Army bombers sent the mid-Pacific softening-up offensive into its 21st straight day with two blows at the Marshall Islands after Navy planes had blasted Eniwetok Atoll to achieve the westernmost penetration of the area by land based American planes. It was disclosed today that medium bombers of the 7th Army Air Force raided Taroa Island of the Maloleap Atoll and Imeji Island of the Jaluit Atoll in the Marshalls without loss on Wednesday, scoring hits on enemy storage facilities.


(There's No One With Endurance Like The Man Who Sells Insurance.)

At Glen Cove, Long Island, the marble and grey-stone mansion known as Winfield Hall, built by dime-store magnate F. W. Woolworth, will be turned into a research institute for the study of chemical and metallurgical science. The Reynolds Research Institute, a subsidiary of the Reynolds Metals Corporation, is seeking approval for a zoning exemption to permit such use of the 16-acre estate in an area otherwise zoned only for residential use. The property was purchased from the Woolwoorth family several years ago by Richard Reynolds Sr., father of the current Reynolds company president, but has been unoccupied for some time. Reynolds representatives told the Glen Cove Zoning Board last night that the outward appearance of the estate will not be altered, nor will there be any kind of manufacturing conducted anywhere on the property.

Five more emergency coal dumps have been opened by the city, with City Fuel Administrator Edwin A. Salmon stressing that these dumps, and those already in operation, are strictly intended as an emergency measure in the face of the present coal shortage, and if demand for fuel eases in the areas where the dumps are located, they will be moved elsewhere.

A grocer in Corona, Queens has been fined $250 for the operation of a rigged scale. An inspector from the Department of Markets visiting the store operated by Fred Stienbrock at 50-19 108th Street found two iron bolts attached to the underside of the scale's weighing pan. Steinbrock argued that he had attached the bolts in order to "correct" the scale, but Justice Alfred Hoffman in Special Sessions Court denounced the grocer for doing "nothing more than putting your hands in your customers' pockets." The Markets Department inspector, Mrs. Katherine V. Powers, testified that she was short-weighted when she purchased a pound and a half of bacon from Steinbrock last October 20th.


("Y'know, Sal, ya right," observes Alice. "Ya really right. T'at John Gawrfield really is a dead ringeh f' Joe. Heh, y'know, ev'ry time I see 'im, he's makin'at face right t'eh. Whatcha know 'bout t'at." "Yeh," chuckles Sally, "I know t'at face. When I useta y'know, get kinda excited listenin' t't'bawl games, y'know? Joe'd come in an' make t'at face, an' I dunno, sump'n about t'at face made me settle right down." "He's a good fella," nods Alice. "Yeh," agrees Sally, her face taking on a somber shadow. "I'm gonna miss t'at face.")

The Eagle Editorialist commends Brooklyn's civic, religious, and labor leaders for joining in a united front against bigotry, citing as especially valuable the daily pledge put forward under the endorsement of Borough President John Cashmore, resolving to "never try to indict a whole people by reason of the delinquency of any member."


(What, baseball without Stengel? Hardly bears consideration.)


("At least," sighs Fitz, "they didn't make me wear the Uncle Sam suit...")


(WELL WHAT DID YOU THINK WOULD HAPPEN?)


("Now be honest. Does this moustache make me look like Gable, or like the headwaiter in a Hungarian restaurant?")


(Shut up, Irwin, uh, Tubby.)


(Tomorrow: SCARLET ON BENZEDRINE! WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!)


(Y'know, sometimes you should just cut your losses.)

And in the Daily News...


"Frogs? Why, one more reason to get rid of the trolleys. ALL RIGHT BOYS PULL UP THE TRACKS"


"Three channels! AND NOT A THING TO WATCH!"


A full page of Tracy photos? Use the one with the refrigerator and the ice blocks!


MAYBE YOU SHOULD LOOK CLOSER


"Doesn't Stars and Stripes carry 'Terry and the Pirates?'"


"Well, that one's done for. Might as well shoot the other."


Foursome, threesome, all the same to Jessica.


STRETCH OVER THE EDGE THERE -- JUST A LIIIIIIIIITLE MORE....


Throw that shirt in while you're at it.


"Oh no, my ma warned me NEVER TO SPEAK TO SAILORS."

Katz is as corrupt as they come, but he's also morally confused.

Like Fitz could fit in that Uncle Sam suit, please.

Jessica would have loved the sexual norms of the 1970s.

Terrence in menage a trois sans menage can earn two Zeroes but without confirm nada dollars.
Bug out quick and wait another payday. Sanjak screwed herself good. Pun intended.

("Twenny miles f'm Rome," enthuses Miss Kaplan thru a mouth full of corned beef. "We'll be t'eh by spring, an'nen it's awnta Berlin." "I dunno," sighs Joe. "I wanna t'ink t'at, but..." "C'mon. Joe. I'm tellin ya," continues Miss Kaplan. "Lookit, how fawr is twenny miles. T'at's like, I dunno, goin' t't' Bronx. You been t' t' Bronx." "Not if I c'n help it," snickers Joe. "T'Bronx is swell," rejoinders Miss Kaplan. "I got uncles, cousins, awlkin'sa people inna Bronx, up t'eh onna Mosholu Pawrkway. Swell people. T'eh ain' nut'n wrawrn wit' t' Bronx. You gotta bad attitude about t'Bronx. Anyways, t'at's twenny miles give 'eh take. A nickel onna IRT. T'at's'ow fawr oueh guys is fr'm Rome. T"ey could wawk along seein'a sights an' you t'ink t'ey ain' gonna be t'eh till afteh spring?" "Well, look," argues Joe. "It ain' like t'eh ain' nobody tryin' ta stopp'm! It ain' like t'eh jus' goin on ya Sunday picnic t'eh." "Y'know what you awr, Joe," accuses Miss Kaplan. "Yaw'ra defeatis'. Hey, Mozelewski, you gett'na loada t'tawk f'm t'is guy? Izzee a defeatis' awr what." "I dunno," shrugs Mozelewski, absently picking out the insides of a hard roll. "I ain' even neveh BEEN to t' Bronx.")

Adolf Hitler was "surprised by American unity" during wartime, according to the National Commander of the National Jewish War Veterans Association. In an address last night to the congregation of the Ocean Parkway Jewish Center, Commander Archie H. Greenberg paid tribute to more than 500,000 Jewish men and women now serving in the American armed forces in all parts of the world by observing that "Hitler thought we were a polyglot nation with so many differences of race, religion, color, and national origin that we could easily be induced to fight among ourselves rather than unite in the cause of freedom against Nazi totalitarianism."

The Queens County American Legion last night passed a resolution condemning the release of Japanese-Americans from relocation camps in the West by the War Relocation Authority, calling that action "an invitation to sabotage" and "a menace to the American people." The resolution has been forwarded to state and national Legion officials for further action. The Queens Legion passed a second resolution urging repeal of the Proportional Representation method of electing City Council members, denouncing P. R. as having brought about the election to the Council of "two Communists and two Communist sympathizers."

Dodger president Branch RIckey has been elected to the Board of Directors of the Brooklyn-Queens YMCA, replacing Richardson L. Pratt, who is retiring after twenty years on the board. Rickey comes to the Brooklyn-Queens YMCA after serving for fourteen years on the board of the St. Louis Y.


("Yeh, t'ey give us t'at name instead of a raise.")


("I dunno, Sal, I'm kin'a worried," says Alice, nodding at the paper folded in her lap. "T'at Wyatt's a old man now, I mean, jeez, you get a look at'tim las' summeh, how fat an' bawlheaded he's gett'n?" "Yeh," chuckles Sally. "I seen him an' Durocheh standin' oveh by t'dugout t'is one time, wit' t'eh hats off, an' sweahtagawd it looked like two t'oids of a pawnbrokeh's sign." "Not t'at t'eh's anyt'ing wrawng wit' bein' bawlheaded," continues Alice. "I mean, I neveh usteh prec'iate it, but, gee whiz, now t'at I'm married t' Siddy, why, I c'n see wheh it's whatchacawla advan'age. You know t'em lit'l haiehs y'awrways sayin' Joe leaves inna sink when'ne combs his haieh? Siddy don' neveh do t'at." "Y'don'say," is the reply emerging from behind Sally's barely-perceptible eyeroll. "Yeh, in fack," Alice emphasizes, "Siddy don' eve'n hafta comb his haieh hawrdly a'tawl. He gives'eh a coupl'a licks wit'ta wawshclawt' an'nees ready t'go. Hey, you t'ink t'eh gonna give Joe one'a t'em Awrmy haiehcuts when'nee..." "Wyatt betteh shape up nex' yeeh," interrupts Sally in a firm voice. "Yeh," sighs Alice, taking the hint. "He really betteh.")


("I'm very happy for my dear little sister," smiles Gypsy. "Truly I am. And I'm sure my good friend Bobby Clark will work extra hard to make her look just her absolute best.")

If you think all of American industry has been converted wholeheartedly to defense, think again. A fire at a celluloid factory in Los Angeles this week revealed that the entire plant had been given over to the manufacture of loaded dice. "Just the thing for the shipyard!" proclaimed the description in the firm's catalogue, in which the phony cubes retailed for $7.50 per pair.


(Sure, blame the poor cat. YOU'LL GET YOURS BUNGLE)


("A bus? Oh good, 'It Happened One Night' is my favorite movie!")


(C'mon, Jane, give out -- how do you get your roll to stay so puffy in the wet winter weather??)


("HEY!" fumes The Flash. "Scram, sister, I'm workin' this side of the street!")


(Well, define OKAY...)

Fading Fast waiting for today's edition of the Daily News.

And in the Daily News...


"Bleachhead." Should that have one H or two? Or a hyphen? I bet they argued all night down in the linotype department about that.


"Praaaaaaafiteeers!" roars Ma. "Eight thousand, noine thousand -- farr a hoose in FLATBUSH?" "Ahhhh, Nora, thaaat's noot even proparr Flatbush," dismisses Uncle Frank. "That's doown tharr in Midwood, wharr all ye swells live. Noothin' loike Pigtown heer." Ma fires a silent glare. "East Flatbush," chokes Uncle Frank. "Oi mean to say. East Flatbush."


The game is never over until the last plane is out.


And just like that Uncle Walt uncovered a spy ring.

"My beloved boy! What's that, a sling? Well, at least this time you didn't come home stinking of prostitute..."


"But that IS a good line, Mr. Ferrett. Mind if I use it someday?"


"Sometimes, child, it doesn't pay to be too cynical...."


That's how I passed sophomore chemistry.


Speaking of Bobby Clark, who would have imagined him doing a walk-on in "Dick Tracy." Hey, where's your cigar and your cane?


Don't mention the mothball sugar cubes in the coffee!