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The Era -- Day By Day


Where The Tourists Meet The Sea

("If I eveh get me hans aroun'at Marie Belasco's neck," fumes Sally. "Leavin'at kid wit' Ma an' just wawltzin' off like it was nut'n. What kin'a poisson DOES'at? I ASK YA!" "Well," shrugs Alice, "at leas' she left'im wit', you know, fam'ly. "Smoeh'n my mot'eh eveh done." Sally glances at Alice but says nothing. "I neveh tol' you about t'at, did I?" Alice continues. "Y'know how I woun' up inna home t'eh? A cop foun' me onna Fulton Street L. Couln'a been much oldeh'n ya Leonoreh. Awl by meself onna Fulton Street L. I don' remembeh nut'n about how I got t'eh, but somebody musta lef' me, y'know? An' t'cop didn' know who I was, *I* didn' know who I was. On'y t'ing t'ey had to go by was'sa lit'l coat I had on, 'nis ol' coat wit' a label inside it wit' 'Alice Dooley' wrote on it. T'ey figyeh'd'at was me name, but who knows, coulda been a secon' han' coat. But t'ey figyehed 'Dooley,' an' looked at me red haieh, an'ney toin't me oveh to t'sistehs. An'nat's awl I eveh knew about it." "Jeez," sighs Sally. "I neveh knew t'at. T'Fulton Street L. Jeez." "An' y'know," Alice continues, "I was kin'a glad when'ney toeh t'at down. Ev'ry time I'd ride on'nit I'd look aroun' at awla ladies, y'know? An' I'd wondeh 'which one'a'yez is me ma?' An' I neveh foun' out an' I neveh will. But t'is kid Willie, why, he's got' a gran'ma, an' you an' Joe, an' Unca Frank, an' hopetagawd someday Mickey's gonna come home. He ain' on no Fulton Street L. He ain' gonna end up wit' no sistehs. He ain' gonna end up like I done." "Yeh," nods Sally. "Yeh." And the train rattles on without another word exchanged.)

Light Allied naval forces bombarded the New Guinea Coast at Sio as Australian troops in pursuit of Japanese forces retreating from the Huon Peninsula captured the Bonga supply center, a communique announced today. Joining the campaign to win control of bases opposite the New Britain invasion coast, the warships -- probably destroyers -- shelled Sio, fifty miles above Finschhafen, twice during the hours of darkness between Monday evening and Tuesday morning. The communique mentioned no enemy interference and said the attack was made with "good effect." A spokesman indicated the vessels were able to penetrate the Vitiaz Strait safely because Allied aircraft from New Guinea were able to protect them.

Assistant Federal Attorney Harold I. Sorin revealed today that six of 24 civilian workers at the Brooklyn Navy Yard charged with filing false overtime hours had accomplished the impossible feat of traveling from one job to another and eating supper, all within a half hour. Sorin explained that the men had reported for work as blueprint readers at a Brooklyn war plant every night at 7 PM, only 30 minutes after their time cards at the Navy Yard, where they were employed in similar work, revealed that they had clocked out.


(Sorry, Sally and Alice. You'll have to stay in Jersey for the duration.)

An increase of 30 percent in the meat available to consumers in December as a result of a "substantial cut" in meat ration points was promised today by Price Administrator Chester Bowles. Most beef cuts, Bowles indicated in a radio talk, will be two or three points lower in cost, and some variety of meats will become unrationed. He warned, however, that the increase in supply may not last, and predicted that the meat supply by Spring of 1944 will be "much tighter" than it is now.


("I been t'inkin," muses Joe. "F'Chris'mas it might be nice t'get a, you know, fam'ly pitcheh took. One'a t'em nice ones, right? Wit' us awl dress't up, an' sitt'n in chaiehs a' sump'n. Like y'hang inna pawrleh. We neveh had nut'n like t'at, an' wit' me -- well, you know, who knows wheah I'll be nex' Chris'mas --- maybe Sal'd like t'have sump'n like that 'stead of a paieh a slippehs a' sump'n." "I think that's a fine idea, Joseph," replies Ma. "Come, William -- eat ye san'wich. I see ye there tearin' off pieces an' putt'n'm in ye pocket. Ye don't need to do that, son, thar's plenty more san'wiches where that one come f'rm." "But I ain'," resolves Joe, "gonna have e'iteh one'a t'ese guys do it. Sal would -- you know -- get involved. An'na pitcheh prob'ly wouldn' come out too good.")

Hollywood singer Ginny Simms took issue today with screen star Laraine Day for her comments criticizing morale-building since she took the initiative to do something about the problem of officers taking up seats meant for enlisted men. Miss Simms, former vocalist with Kay Kyser's Orchestra recently hailed as the official "Sweetheart of the Armed Forces" by the War Department for her tireless performances before servicemen, stated today that, like Miss Day, she found at first that officers were helping themselves to the best seats at her shows. But she went on to say that that this stopped immediately once she put her foot down about it. "I wrote ahead to the camps," she explains, "and specifically said I was coming to sing for the GI's -- and nobody else!" Since then, she says, she has never once found an officer -- or an officer's wife -- taking a seat while ordinary soldiers were forced to stand.

The Eagle Editorialist awaits with much anticipation confirmation of rumors of a "Big Four" conference that will bring President Roosevelt and Prime Minister Churchill face to face with Premier Stalin and Generalissimo Chiang Kai-Shek. "That would mean," the EE observes, "that the fighting throughout the world is being integrated, that the United Nations are in truth United, and that the crusade for freedom and peace is world-wide in scope."


(Coming Events Cast Their Shadows Before...)


("Leo was just telling how he'd beaten Bob Hope out of $300 in a golf match..." Yeah, but who's gonna play third base?)


(You're tampering with forces beyond your control.)


(Fooling around with bimbos, huh? Why aren't you in uniform??)


("Swenson?" You're not fooling anybody, MR. CLARK KENT.)


(Hey, a gal's gotta eat.)


("Here, you want the neck?")


Where The Tourists Meet The Sea

What's she got against sailors?


How you gonna dial MOtt Haven 9 on that phone???


And no, you can't stop at Howard Johnson's for ice cream.


"I'll get wrinkled!" Welcome to the club, bub.


"Now button your collar and put on a jacket! You're an executive now!"


Get one more guy up there and you can do ads for Bohack. "Three to choose from! One's YOUR favorite!"


"Stick em up you!" You can take the kid out of the neighborhood, but you can't take the neighborhood out of the kid.


"Oh mother, don't be a moldy fig. We've moved on to amphibious landing craft now!"


This too shall pass.


Or even ten minutes from now. HEY WHO'S THAT?


Where The Tourists Meet The Sea

("Par-lee," pronounces Leonora. "Fraa-mess," she adds. "T'at's pretty good," nods Joe. "How 'bout'tis one heeh?" "Fl-e-e," she continues, "Br-i-t-i-sh." "Ain'nat sump'n," marvels Joe. "She's a wondarr," agrees Ma. "By t'titme she's ready t'stawrt school, t'eh gonna skip 'eh awla way upta 8-B," grins Joe. T'at's as fawr as ya ol' man got, y'know, kid. But'choo, why, ya gonna be a p'fesseh. Or a Quiz Kid a'sump'n." "Whaat aboot you now, William," asks Ma, directing her attention to the boy hunched at the end of the counter, gazing inscrutably at a pile of straws laid out before him. "Are ye excited t'go to school?" The boy's only reply is to shift a straw from one side of the pile to the other." "Oi took 'im down this marrnin' t'soin 'im up," Ma relates. "They didn't assk no questions, an' even if they did, he's me gran'son, ain'ee?" "T'ey neveh foun'at Marie, huh?" inqquires Joe. "She's took a powder," shrugs Ma, with a bitter shake of her head. "One day she'll regret it." "Yeh," nods Joe. "Hey Willie, t'eh -- you like t' read? Whyn'cha slide oveh heeh, we'll take a lookit what Bo is upta. You like dawgs, don'cha?" The boy replies by shifting another straw. "Owr we c'd lookit t'spawrts page, huh?" presses Joe. "Whatcha t'inka t'em Dodgehs f'nex' yeeh, huh?" The boy stares deep into the stack of straws. "Hey," tries Joe, "I know, les' take a lookit some'a t'em funny books onna rack t'eh. I wondeh what Batman's upta." Without a word, the boy sweeps the straws off the counter with a sharp motion of his arm, jumps off the stool and races up the back stairs. "Oh oh," sighs Leonora. "Yeh," agrees Joe.)

German troops who stalled the Red Army advance west of Kiev were reported swinging northward toward White Russia today, to undertake the rescue of formidable Nazi forces encircled and facing annihilation in the Pripet marches. Front reports said Gen. Konstantin Rokossovsky was methodically wiping up southern White Russia, consolidating his positions and driving the Germans deeper into marshes while reducing the numbers of the trapped units. Spectacular developments cannot be expected without a sharp change in the weather, making possible a faster movement of Russian reinforcements and a wider use of planes.

American warships bombarded Mandang, New Guinea and Gasmata, New Britain fpr the first time Monday night, serving notice on the Japanese that the Allies now control the Southwestern invasion route toward Rabaul, a communication revealed today. In their deepest penetration of waters once controlled by the Japanese in the southwest Pacific, the vessels steamed thru the seas between the two islands to carry out the attacks which, in effect, cut the vital enemy supply lines. The attacks coincided with a night shelling of Sio, Japanese supply point on the New Guinea coast.


("Ennis, who is 6 foot 7 inches tall and weighs 200 pounds, and Glaubinger, 5 foot 2 inches, glared at each other in open hostility in the lineup." And they say vaudeville's dead.)

A full day on the Hollywood marital merry-go-round found blonde Veronica Lake shedding her Army major husband. A divorce was granted yesterday to Miss Lake and Major John Detlie, with Miss Lake expected to retain custody of the couple's young daughter Elaine with visitation rights to Maj. Detlie. The couple had married in 1940, and separated last August. Meanwhile, Lt. Rudy Vallee, crooner turned Coast Guardsman, announced his marriage yesterday to magazine model Bettyjane Greer. It will be her first marriage, and the second for Vallee, whose first wife, the former Fay Webb, died several years ago.

A 20 year old Brooklyn girl brought into General Sessions Court in Manhattan on a shoplifting charge acted as her own attorney. Miss Frances Pisano of 169 Baltic Street pleaded not guilty to the accusation that she stole a $500 spotted Persian lamb coat from Saks 34th Street in Manhattan on October 13th, and argued her own case before Judge John J. Freschi. When Judge Freschi pronounced her guilty, Miss Pisano snapped back "you'll get your just desserts in hell!" Judge Freschi ordered Miss Pisano taken to Bellevue for observation.


("Well, I don' caeh none about'tat," pronounces Alice, slapping the paper with the back of her hand. "We wasn' gonna go to t'Bosse't awr t' St. Gawrge, awr none'a t'em places afteh t'weddin'." "Ya gonna do sump'n, 'nough," replies Sally. "Ain'cha? It's gonna be New Yeeh's Eve, ya gotta do sump'n." "Oh," shrugs Alice, "we tawked it oveh, we figgehed we didn' need to do no nightclubbin' a' nut'n. We t'ought we'd go get a drink afteh t'wedd'n an' cawl it a night." "T'Ol' Reliable?" eyerolls Sally. "T'at crummy jernt?" "Soit'nly not," declares Alice most primly. "We'eh goin' downtown! Behan's Bawr'n Grill! I useta know Behan, y'know, when he was a cop an' I was -- well, I useta know Behan. Yeh, we'll have a coupla drinks an' cawl it a night." "T'at's moeh'n me'n Joe did," sighs Sally."We bot' hadda go right backta woik. I was woikin' yawrd goods at Woolwoit's 'at day, an' no sooneh did I get back fr'm t'weddin'nen some ol'l lady wan'ed t'see evry bolta awrgandy onna shelf. I pull 'em awl down an' giveh a look an'nen she takes a lit'l sample piece offa t'fois' one I showed 'eh." "Awrgandy's awrful roman'ic," sighs Alice. "Ain'it?" "Yeh," grunts Sally. "Awrf'l.")



A 15-year-old Bronx boy pleaded guilty today to a second degree murder charge. Leonard Marx, a high school student, will be sentenced on January 4th for beating his 75-year-old grandmother to death in her apartment. The youth could face 20 years to life in prison, although due to his age it is possible he may be sentenced to a juvenile facility instead of prison.


(Aw, the Rangers got a tie? I was hoping for a perfect season.)

A hot tip circulating among attendees at the Winter Meetings at the Hotel New Yorker is that there will definitely be night ball in Brooklyn in 1944. The lack of night games was blamed for a sharp drop in Ebbets Field attendance over the 1943 campaign. Another report floating around the New Yorker lobby indicates that Dodger second baseman and Durocher heir apparent Billy Herman has now signed his contract for next season. Herman was closeted for over an hour yesterday with Branch Rickey but no official announcement of the signing has yet been made.

The two major leagues have agreed on all the important details of the 1944 season except for one -- the length of the season. While both leagues agree a full 154-game schedule should be played, the National League wants the season to run from April 18th to October 1st, while the American League wants to compress the schedule by cutting a week off both ends of the campaign.

The two leagues have agreed to play the 1944 All Star Game on July 11th. Forbes Field in Pittsburgh will host.

Clark Griffith's long lamentations over his need for more night baseball in Washington have finally prevailed. The Senators have been given permission to play an "unlimited" night schedule after May 5th, and it appears likely that the Nats will play at least 50 of their 77 home games under the arc lights. The other fifteen clubs may play no more than 14 night games each, two against each of their opponents.


(Well this will help the war effort.)


("I'LL THRASH YOU YOUNG MAN!" What, thrash him when you could CANE HIM CANE HIM CANE HIM!)


(I have to say that's a well-stocked costume shop. I wonder if they have Molotov?)


("Take advantage of a boy's lonesomeness in a strange town." Well, it's a good business plan.)


(Trix's analysis of the problem of labor exploitation is pretty sound, though. For a dog, anyway.)


Where The Tourists Meet The Sea
And in the Daily News...


"Amatchurrrs!" scoffs Uncle Frank. "Hoijackin' scotch an' rye, when all ye need is a little food colorin' an' ye can make all ye waaaaant yeself! Ahhl roit, boys, load those baaattl's on th' trook!"




Control yourself, Mr. Gray.


Hey, at least you'll get a seat.


"Well, by 'ask questions' I mean 'shoot him in the back of the head,' but if you must..."


Nahh, it's just water weight.


"You get one screw-up kid. Just one."


You want guest stars? WE'VE GOT GUEST STARS! Hey, is Gypsy available?


"Get her a dozen eggs to hatch." It's how effortlessly he comes up with these that makes it impressive.


One knee, fathead.


One Too Many
St John's Wood, London UK
Corklin is a damn fine sword belt. Terrence is learning how to be an officer. But Grett is gone I fear.

Today's sheets show war's cost with the Tomlinson suicide/infanticide widowed despondency.
Too horrific to think what would lead that particular course.

On the lighter side I don't off chance know what a spotted Persian lamb coat looks like but at five hundred quid
it must be a fine looker rack indeed.

Veronica Lake divorced her major husband. Tis a shame these easily shed war weds. Gloria Grahame comes to mind with her proclivities that knew no age bounds. I chanced across an Annette Bening BFI interview and her
Gloria portrayal in Movie Stars Don't Die in Liverpool reminds me to take off back stove for a look.


Where The Tourists Meet The Sea

("Look, Ma," insists Sally as she wrestles Leonora into her coat. "At leas' lemme take the kid home f' t'night. I mean, lookatcha. You look like you ain' slept for a week. You wanna have ano'teh stroke?" Young Willie looks up from the end of the counter, where he is engaged in rolling bits of white bread torn from his sandwich into small spheres, and quickly looks away. "It's not th' boy, daaaghter," protests Ma. "Th' boy is foine. Th' boy is quiet an' well behaved. It's Francis keepin' me awake noits." "What?" puzzles Sally. "Um, I mean, ye Uncle Frank is so busy in his waark that he's coomin' by later than usual farr suppar. The poor maan, warrkin soo haard at his age, desarrves a good hot meal." "Yeh," nods Sally. "But at leas' if I take t'kid, I mean, t'at's one less t'ing ya gotta worry about." "Thaars no point, Sally," declares Ma. "Ye waaark aaahl day, an' ye don' get heere t'pick up Leonora til aaahlmos' seven thaarty, so hoo much toime does that leave ye? B'soides, ye got but three rooms. Whaar's the boy goin' to sleep?" "We c'n put'im onnat cot Alice use'ta have, inna livin' room. He'll be fine. I'm tellin' ya." "Well, ask 'im yeself," sighs Ma. "Ye'll see what I mean." "Hey," smiles Sally, "hey, Willie. How'ja like t'come oveh an' stay wit' me' an ya Uncle Joe an' ya cousin Leonoreh heeh? An' Stella -- hey, did ya know we got a cat lives oveh t'oueh place? A nice furry cat? Woul'nat be swell?" Willie frowns, bounces one of his balls of bread off Sally's forehead, and flees up the back stairs. Sally glares, but Ma can only shrug in reply.)

Appearing today in Washington before the Senate Banking Committee, Mayor LaGuardia today urged that subsidies be continued in order to prevent the cost of living from skyrocketing, and further urged the Senate to reject a ban on such subsidies after December 31st. The House of Representatives has already approved legislation to institute such a ban, and it is believed likely to pass the Senate as well. LaGuardia spoke before the committee in his position as president of the United States Council of Mayors, and warned that cities "dare not risk what would happen" if the price subsidies were to be eliminated. In New York City, he pointed out, food prices have risen 39 percent since 1941, and that prices of adult clothing have increased by 30 percent. He further declared that the price of children's clothing is "prohibitive." "We should maintain prices to producers," stressed the Mayor, "but also meet the difference between retail prices and the cost of production with subsidies. Failing that, you have a black market. We have a black market now." He urged that prices be adjusted to a point where they can safely be maintained for the duration of the war.

Representatives of horse-racing states are protesting a proposed five percent tax on parimutuel receipts, charging that such a levy would "invade state rights, wreck state finances, increase illegal 'bookies,' and 'kill the goose that laid the golden egg.'" The tax, now under consideration before the Senate Finance Committee, is part of a $2,140,000,000 Federal revenue bill now pending, and would, according to its sponsors, net the Treasury more than $27,000,000 per year.

The trial of a 23-year-old Queens man on draft evasion charges got underway today in Brooklyn Federal Court. William H. Lohberg, Jr. of 223-19 107th Avenue in Queens Village is the second of members of the Jehovah's Witnesses to be aligned for successive trials on the same charge. A jury of eight men and four women disagreed last night on a verdict in the case of the first of the five to be tried, Homer F. Parsons of Maspeth, who argued that he failed to report for induction because he is a minister of the gospel, having become one when he joined the sect at the age of 16. Lohberg's defense is expected to follow the same line.


("Hmph," hmphs Alice, seated on a box in the basement as Krause the Super fiddles with a sticking damper. "Y'know, Siddy," she continues. "I betcha I could be Miss Weste'n Ele'tric. I mean, if I WANNED t'be." Krause glances over at his fiancee, rumbles "Yeh," and returns to his work.)

Residents of Williamsburg may have to put up with smudgy black smoke for the duration, now that the Board of Estimate has pigeonholed the Conrad Anti-Smoke Bill. Appeals by more than 150 neighborhood residents were to no avail as the board agreed to table the proposal "on the basis of war necessity." Councilman Joseph T. Sharkey took a central role the campaign to enact the restrictions on smoke emissions from factories, and personally led a parade of Williamsburg residents to the council chamber in a futile effort to push the bill forward. Borough President John Cashmore attempted to salvage something from the failed campaign by urging Sharkey to push for the appontment by the City Council of a committee to study means of ameliorating the smoke situation short of a ban on emissions.


(The End Is In Sight.)


(Boy, will YOU be disappointed.)

Payment of Christmas and end-of-year bonuses will be made this year according to the same rules as applied to such payments last year, according to a bulletin issued by the War Labor Board. Employers are advised that there will be little point in them applying for permission to issue such bonuses this year unless they were issued last year, nor may the payments be increased over those issued in 1942. If the plan is to issue bonuses on the same basis and on the same level as last year, the bulletin advises, no WLB action is required.

A new Army training film explores one of the proud traditions of military life. The short, entitled "Nomenclature, Care, and Peeling of the M4 87mm Potato," instructs servicemen in the correct procedure for sorting, denuding, and preparing spuds for consumption, and is narrated by a "pompous-voiced, double-talking announcer." The film is credited to the "Yardbird Branch of the Army Signal Corps in cooperation with the Section 8 Division." A yardbird, in Army parlance, is a lowly recruit, while "Section 8" roughly translates to "screwball."


("The case for Negro players comes before the joint meeting of the major leagues today." Hey, whatever happened to that tryout Campanella was supposed to have with the Pirates?)


(Kids will be kids.)


(There's always a plan.)


(Walter Catlett, Conrad Veidt and George Arliss? I'm impressed with the casting here.)


(You can't be a superhero without an inconvenient weakness.)


(You always say that but you never do!)


Where The Tourists Meet The Sea
And in the Daily News...




"Poooooor Mr. Glaubinger," laments Uncle Frank. "He was a foine customarr, too."


A few survivors, at least. For now.


"No dear, you're confused. That was sugar and coffee."


You know, you could feed him boullion cubes.


"Will earn twice what I can pay him." Yeah, I know what that's like.


"Heh heh, all right that's enough of that. Let's string the little b*****d up."


"Hey, you know, I actually *AM* available..." -- Gypsy.


Dudley's expression in panel three belies his true terror.


Where are all these babies coming from???


One Too Many
St John's Wood, London UK
Well this evening brings good news about Grett and crew. I'd say Corklin's lads will get on it spot.

Mr. Pouffle of the eight children and now the American Marines is a brave man indeed.
Bachelor sod that I be I cannot imagine those courageous enough to wed, bed, and bred then enlist.
Portland Maine must be quite chill with eight on the plate.

The Worthington murder trial intrests for its intimacy within cuckoldry resultant homicide. Self defense is valid
ostensible defense for Mouline but widowed testimony as to subsequent remark made her by defendant
may tip a jury box for the gibbet rope.


Where The Tourists Meet The Sea

("Awright lady," shrugs the blue-uniformed man from the Bell System. "Ya phones is awl fixed. But be warned, t'comp'ny don' like it none when ya let people jimmy t'money bawx. Happn's again, an'neh gonna jus' take 'em right out." "Oh, aaaaabsa'lutely, sarrr," assures Ma. "We'll keep evar so moch of a cloose oye ahhhn'm, thaaat we will. Oi don't know HOOOOW those baaarglers gaaaht in heere." "Funny," muses the repairman, rolling his tools into their case, "ev'ry time y'go inna canny stoeh, t'ez a whole row'a pay stations. Jus' like y'got heeh. Why izzat, anyways?" "Ooooh, you know, saaar," dissembles Ma, "a caaaandy stoor is a busy paaart oof the caaamunity. Ahhhl the yoong boys loike t'come in aaan use the phones to caaaal their little gaarlfriends. It's evar so roomantic, don't ye think?" "Sueh, gran'ma," snorts the repairman. "Anyt'ing ya say. Hey, wawtch out f' phone tappin'!" He exits, chuckling to himself, as Hops Gaffney cringes in, placing his pouch delicately upon the counter. "Well," gruffs Ma. "What have ye gaaat t'say f'yeself?" "It's jus' like I tol' t'boys," Hops protests, touching the fading bruise around his eye. "I don' know nut'n 'bout what t'at dame done awr wheah she went. Honestagawd. An'nif I eveh see 'ehr'again, it'll be too soon." "If ye evar see harr again," scowls Ma, "ye'll be roit smaaart aboot tellin' me, if ye know what's....JOSEPH!" "Hiya Ma," greets Joe. "Gamma!" greets Leonora. "Ouch," she adds, observing Mr. Gaffney's swollen face. "Whassamatteh, bud?" snickers Joe. "Run into a dooeh?" "Sump'n like t'at," mutters Hops as he makes a hasty exit. "What's t'woid?" queries Joe. "How'za kid?" Ma exhales a heavy sigh. "Upstairs sleepin'. It's a foony thing, the boy lays awake aaahl noit, an' he sleeps most'a th' maarnin. Usually he's opp boi now -- Joseph, did you hear thaaat?" "Heeh what?" replies Joe. "I hoid a noise f'm upstaiehs, but..." Ma mutters a Gaelic curse and rushes up the back stairs, with her son-in-law close behind her. A cold breeze blowing in an open window overlooking the rear courtyard tells the story. Ma thrusts her head out, glancing down at the empty fire escape below. "WILLIAM!" she bellows. "WILLLLLIAM!!!")

The issue of voting rights for soldiers moved to the House of Representatives after the Senate defeated the Green-Lucas bill to create a standardized ballot allowing servicement overseas to participate in Federal elections. The bill was defeated in the Senate by the combined efforts of Republicans and Southern Democrats, who argued that such a law would interfere with the poll tax requirements that govern voting eligibility in Southern states. An alternative plan to establish a "general mechanism" for absentee balloting that would not be compulsory on states that choose not to participate. Senate Democratic leader Alben W. Barkley scoffed at the alternative plan, arguing that it would carry no more authority in giving soldiers the right to vote than a "pious resolution passed by the Ladies' Aid or some Rotary Club."


(And they know what to do with Nazi collaborators.)

Reader K. Morgan writes in to counteract and contradict all the recent criticism of crime in Brooklyn. "There are crimes and slums in all large cities," Morgan declares. "I wish to say I have lived in many large cities, but none I liked so well as Brooklyn. Brooklyn is the finest city in the world."


("Whatta loada bunk," snorts Sally. "I wasn' no flappeh when I was in high school. Ask anybody, t'ey'll tell yeh." "Well, wait now," interrupts Alice. "Din'choo tell me oncet you t'rew ya step-ins at Rudy Vallee?" "I soitenly did NOT," huffs Sally. "I mighta waved'm, but t'ey slipped. It was'sat no-good Mildred McCullough done alla t'rowin'. An'nen whenna patrol wagons come, she hadda noive t'take t'bes' seat!" "Yeh," agrees Alice. "T'em ones oveh t'wheel is no good. But lissen, you eveh wondeh what Lenoreh's gonna be like when SHE's in high school?" "Leonoreh," asserts Sally, "is gonna graduate Erasmus at t'oiteen, an' she's goin' right on t' Hunteh Collitch. You wait'n see. An'nen she's gonna be a lawyeh, a real fightin' lawyeh t'at goes right afteh t'ese doity cops t'at arrest people f'not doin' nut'n but -- um -- wavin' at Rudy Vallee." "I hope I live t'see it," grins Alice. "Sooneh'n ya t'ink," proclaims Sally.)


(Merry Christmas from the Boys from Marketing!)


(Minutes of the owners' meeting reveal that Robeson spoke passionately for fifteen minutes and then requested questions or comments from the owners. There were none, he was thanked, and sent on his way. Not even Branch Rickey, a man who usually needed little instigation to talk, was willing to break the silence.)

Former Cubs manager Charlie Grimm now enjoys a degree of job security unrivaled anywhere else in the game -- a 25-year contract to manage in the American Association with the Milwaukee Brewers. Former Brewer chief Bill Veeck Jr. signed Jolly Cholly to the robust pact as one of his last acts before leaving for the Marine Corps. Despite the contract, though, Grimm holds out hope of one day returning to the majors.


(If Chester Gould can do a story about drug addiction, so can Harry J. Tuthill.)


(I must have missed the scene where Mary took a job with the Chamber of Commerce.)


(Just how well are they training these agents?)


("Well, OK, but first could you help me get my hand out of this vase? Got any butter?")


(There's no such thing as a bad dog -- but there's lots of stupid ones around.)


Where The Tourists Meet The Sea
And in the Daily News...


"What globaloney," sniffs Mrs. Luce. "It's president, or nothing."


Is JimmyJ a member here?

Look on the bright side. Nobody will ever call you "Fatty."


I still think Dude will show up.


Never mind this stuff, I want to hear Kate Smith.


Zincs -- metal engravings used to create printing plates for photos, logos, and other graphics.


"And if you find my kids under there, tell them it's time for supper."




And it won't belong before he grows up to be Kayo's little henchman.


"And sweep up the rug before you go."


Where The Tourists Meet The Sea
It's a wonder they can do it. Most of them have assistants -- Harold Gray started as an assistant on "The Gumps," for example, before starting his own strip, and his cousin Bob Leffingwell is his own assistant. An artist named Bill Perry worked for both Frank King and Carl Ed at various times, eventually taking over the Sunday "Gasoline Alley" entirely. Gus Edson has several assistants, including a young man named Martin Landau -- who will one day quit cartooning to become an actor. And even Milton Caniff has an assistant -- Frank Engli, who does all the lettering. But even with assistants it's a serious creative grind.

Sometimes you can tell when a strip has a new assistant when there are subtle changes in the strip. Carl Ed must've lost whoever had been his assistant over the past several years over the summer, because for several weeks it was obvious he was doing his own lettering, which has a distinctly ragged style. He got a new assistant just about the time the new storyline with Lillums started, and if you look at the way Lil was drawn in 1940 compared to the rather pneumatic way she's drawn now, the work of that assistant is very evident.


Where The Tourists Meet The Sea

("Yaaaar damned lucky, Nora, thaat's aaahl I'm goin' to say," fumes Uncle Frank."Th' boy cooda brooken his neck joompin' aahf that foire escape. Ye sh'd be thankful he's got noothin' boot'a sprained ankle. An' ye lucky it was Doyle thaat foond 'im in that alley thar. He's oone'a ours. But tharr's a lotta patroolmen that ain't, an' we could'a haad this place swaaarmin' with coppars! It cooda been aahl ovarr th' paparrs!" "Ye close ye mooth, Francis Leary," snaps Ma, "an' ye keep it cloosed. Who waas it left that window latch undone?" "Well, thar's no need to aargue smaahl details," retorts Uncle Frank. "I told ye once an' I'll tell ye again, we caan't have this boy aroond here. He's naught but trooble." "Well we cann't turn him ovarr to the city," counters Ma. "Thar'll be too many questions. An' besoides, he's me blood. He's Michael's son. He waanted me to foind 'im, that's why he had me foind that key, an' it's my respaaansibility t'caare farr'im." "Can't Sally an' Joseph take 'im," challenges Uncle Frank. "It's no use, Francis," roars Ma. "With Sally warrkin, an' Joseph liable t'be drafted any day now, he'd joost be ovarr here moosta th' day anyway! Can't ye see it's the ONLY WAY." Uncle Frank exhales and holds out his arms. "Be it on ye own head," he sighs. "Oi'm goin' oot. We gaaht a shipment oot t' Canarsie t'night, an' I got to supervise the loaaadin'. Troi to keep the boy cooped oop." Ma offers no reply, and sinks into a chair with her head in her hands....)

Axis sources reported today that the Red Army had hurled 600,000 men into a massive offensive west of Smolensk as converging Soviet forces pounded to within eight miles of Zhlobin and threatened to engulf momentarily that last escape gap still open to the retreating Germans in southern White Russia. The Berlin and Vichy radios both broadcast reports of the new Russian offensive, saying tremendous Soviet forces were attacking ceaselessly in the Smolensk area. Swirling snowstorms and heavy casualties failed to halt the continuous Russian attacks apparently aimed at the key railroad junction of Oraha, on the west bank of the upper Dnieper, the Axis accounts reported.

Japanese warlords overruled their own Emperor, the fabled all-powerful Son of Heaven, on the issue of war with the United States, it was revealed last night, according to erstwhile secret diplomatic documents released by the State Department. Those documents indicate that two months before the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, leaders of the Japanese army and navy received with "contemptuous silence" an unprecedented order from Emperor Hirohito commanding that they "keep the peace." That order was delievered to the Japanese cabinet, headed by the "relatively peaceful" Premier Prince Konyoe in October 1941, in the form of a question asking what the miltiary was doing to ensure the maintenance of peace wiht the United States, but the Japanese warlords "did not deign to reply" to the Emperor's question. Prince Konyoe was soon replaced as premier by the warlike Gen. Hideki Tojo. who currently holds that office.

Office of War Information Director Elmer Davis today asked the State Department to "make inquiries in Moscow" to determine how the Soviet press happened to publish the details of a conference at Teheran by President Roosevelt, Prime Minister Churchill, and Premier Stalin before American newsmen were permitted to release the story. Davis expressed the hope that an agreement can be reached to insure that the press and radio of this country are not "held at a disadvantage" in the release of future details concerning the Big 3 conference.

The heckling of a "young Negro" who spoke before a meeting of the Midtown Civic League last month at the Bedford branch of the YMCA is under debate following the release of a letter by the former president of the Kings County Grand Juror's Association denying that the free-speech rights of the speaker, probation officer Henry Ashcroft, were denied by the heckling. The letter from George H. Trumpler was sent to Judge Louis Sobel in response to Judge Sobel's assertion that Ashcroft was shouted down at the meeting when he attempted to criticize previous speakers for delivering "a continuous tirade against the Negro race." Trumpler declared in his letter that the people who "howled down" Ashcroft "were not bigots, but were defending the speeches made by Monsignior Belford and myself against the untrue statement made by Mr. Ashcroft."


("Howcome y'wanted us t'get awl dressed up?" queries Sally, as she and Joe and Leonora parade with unaccustomed elegance down Fulton Street taking in the holiday-bedecked store windows. "Y'ain'gotteh get dressed up f'windeh shawpin. B'sides, I ain' woehn'ese shoes f'so lawng my feet hoit." "In heeh," replies Joe. as they pause in front of Abraham & Straus. "Downstaiehs.")


("C'n we make t'shouldehs like t'is heeh?" requests Alice, holding up a Martin's ad. "I don't know," ponders Mrs. Ginsburg. "MIlton, what do you think?" "Shoulders like this?" Mr. Ginsburg "On shoulders like..." Mrs. Ginsburg cuts him off with a sharp glare. "You do what you think best," he shrugs. "You want seed poils, I'll get seed poils." "T'anks," Alice beams ."We plant 'em now, y'tink t'ey be ready by New Yeehs?" Mr. G is about to reply but is silenced by a swift kick to the ankles.)


("Someday," sneers Mr. Cox. "someday, Judge, you'll see gambling ads ON THE WALLS OF EVERY BALLPARK!" "Someday," concedes the Judge. "But not today.")

In reviewing the latest failed coup against Commissioner Landis by a coalition of rebellious baseball owners, Tommy Holmes observes "the only thing certain about the present situation is that Landis, first of the baseball czars, will also be the last. When the time comes that the man in the fright wig passes on, his successor, if any, will wield nothing like the big stick that K. M. L. has fashioned for himself. The new 'czar,' when and if, will be a man whom the big operators dead-sure knows the meaning of the wink that accompanies the appointment.


(Where does the time go?)


("Mush love!")


(But what happened to the rabbit???)


("Chewing my shoe! And I just spent my No. 18 stamp on those poofy boudoir slippers!")


(Speaking of drugs, someone needs to have a talk with Bushmiller. And Sally now realizes what it is that Alice is always nibbling on at her workbench.)


(Marshal Tito adverises in theatrical papers? Well, I suppose dancers make excellent partisan saboteurs.)


Where The Tourists Meet The Sea
And in the Daily News...


Given the essential quackery behind the polygraph, it would not surprise me it all if we hear again of Mr. Goldman.


"Don't you know there's a war on??"


And that's why you should never give a personalized jackknife for Christmas.


If it's the Mayor himself under that hood I'll scream. Oh, and Peter Pain's paying me a visit today. The little rat gets around.


"Of course there were a lot of deductions." The ice is thin, Mr. Gray. Step carefully. And it's good to see that Ginky is frisky and joyous, there's so little of that these days.


Somewhere out there, there's a perfect job for everyone.


If Kate Smith can do guest shots in the comics, so can Adolphe Menjou.


You'd be so much happier if you'd just put a lock on the bedroom door.


Corky is almost as smooth as his big brother. I wonder what Tula's up to these days.

Someone has torn the back page of the comic section out of today's paper, so we rush down to the Out of Town Newsstand to find Terry -- SHARING HIS PAGE WITH AN AD. Guess Col. McCormick isn't a fan.


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