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The Era -- Day By Day


Where The Tourists Meet The Sea

("Big t'ree," declares Lenora, pointing at the prominent photo on the Eagle's front page, as her father looks on with pride. "Ain' she sump'n," he grins. "She's gonna skip right inta high school by t'time she's ready t'go. Which remin's me, how'd Willie make out 'is fois' day?" "He didn't go," sighs Ma. "He wouldn't let me dress him, an' Oi caan't say's I blame him, poor choild. Y'know his maather didn't leave him here with naught but the clothes aan his back. We got a few things oota that place they was livin' in, but it took some doin'. Taarns oot she was three moonths behoind inna rent an' th' landlaard wasn't goin' to let me have any of the things she left. Buut , y'see, well, Jimmy drove me ovarr there, an' he had -- a warrrd with the landlarrd, an'convinced him t'see things me way. But it's aaahl pretty ragged stoof, an' ye joost know the otharr children'll make fun. I dug aroond an' found a few things that was Michael's when he was smaahl, but that didn't amoont t'mooch. I got a few thngs'a Sally's, but ye can't send a little boy t'school in a middy dress, now caan ye? An' forget aboot goin' to the storres, b'tween Chris'maas an' the waar, thar's hardly noothin' to be had." "Pooeh kid," replies Joe. "Hey, I got an ideeh -- t'es t'is ol' guy lives in oueh buildin', runs a taileh shop. Maybe he knows wheah we c'd get s'm stuff -- he's kind'va, y'know, kind'va crab when y'fois' meet'im, but he's deep down a pretty good guy. I mean, he ain' kicked Alice Dooley out yet, an'nat counts f'sump'n." "Now tharr's anoothar laaahst soul farr ye," sighs Ma. "She's still gonna get married t'this janitarr is she?" "Krause t'supeh, yeh." nods Joe. "New Yeeh's Eve. Sal's gonna be matron'a honeh an' me t'bes' man. If Krause don' get col' feet, anyways. I ast 'im t'utteh day if he was get'n noivous, an' y'know what he said?" "Yeh," replies Leonora in a precise imitation of Mr. Krause's tone. "Yeh," laughs Joe. "Like t'at.")

President Roosevelt, described as elated and confident that the Teheran conference with Premier Stalin has shortened the war, is in Cairo today for continuing discussions with Prime Minister Churchill and other Allied leaders. There appears little doubt that the topic of conversation in these meetings will be to build upon the agreements reached at Teheran with specific actions, particularly with regard to such territories as the Balkans, Poland, and Finland. Speculation on possible action centered on the military phase, particularly on the statement in the Teheran communique about attacks on Germany from the east, south and west.

The trip to Teheran to confer with the President and the Prime Minister was Premier Stalin's first trip out of Russia in 31 years. The "Man of Steel" last left Russian borders in 1912 to confer with Lenin, Russian revolutioonary leader, in Crakow, then a part of Austria. Stalin had traveled extensively in his youth, beginning at the age of 24, when he was shackled into a cattle car by the Czar's police and sent to exile in the Urals for revolutionary activity. He escaped six times and each time was recaptured and transported deeper and deeper into Siberia with each new sentence before returning to Moscow in time for the 1917 revolution. Since the present war began he has traveled from Moscow once or twice to visit the front.

Police are probing the murder of a 30-year-old Brooklyn longshoreman, found early this morning in a Borough Park gutter with gunshot wounds to the head and chest. The body of Joseph J. Labadessa was found near the intersection of 50th Street and 17th Avenue, about a mile from his home. His wife told police that he had dropped her off at the Boro Park Theatre last night, promising that he would be home by 9:30 pm. He did not return, however, until about 5:30 this morning, and he went right out again, stepping into an automobile that had stopped at his front door. Mrs. Labadessa told police it was common for her husband to hitch a ride to work from some fellow dockworker, and she was unable to identify the particular driver in this case. Police determined that Labadessa had a minor police record involving arrests for burglarly and operating a policy racket.

Manhattan police today claimed to have smashed a racket in which at least 12 victims were beaten and robbed after being lured to their own apartments by a pair of teenage girls. Detectives said the girls would pick up men in dance halls or bars, and agree to go with them to their apartments. The girls would then slip the addresses of those apartments to three young men, who would be waiting there to beat and rob the victim when they arrived home.


(There's a new world coming.)

The War Relocation Authority, already under heavy attack for recent riots instigated by pro-Japanese internees at the Tula Lake Relocation Center, generated a new controversy in Congress today by publishing an appeal for Japanese internees who would be willing to move to the Midwest to teach farmers in Ohio and Michigan how to operate more efficiently. Representative John M. Costello (D-Calif.) demanded an explanation for the appeal from WRA Director Dillon S. Meyer. The appeal, contained in a WRA pamphlet entitled "Mid-West Frontiers," attemps to recruit Japanese internees to teach midwester farmers not just efficiency, but also hygiene. It notes that many farmers in Ohio and Michigan refuse to bathe regularly, believing the practice to be unhealthy, and states "we need you people to change our ideas about this. You have a lesson to teach Ohio and Michigan farmers about sanitation."


("Y'know what woiks betteh?" declares Alice. "Chicken fat." "You really awr loinin' t'cook, ain'cha," chuckles Sally. "Mame G. says I got whatchacawl an' aptitude fawrit," Alice continues. "Y'know what I made las' night? T'is t'ing cawled gribenes. It's like t'ese crunchy lit'l pieces'a chicken skin an'awlat t'at ya get when ya' melt'n downa fat. An'nen ya know what I done? I put 'em in wit' spaghetti. Misteh G said he neveh had nut'n like it." "I bet he did," nods Sally. "He ast f'seconds too," adds Alice. "An'ne was soeh t'eh wasn' no t'oids. Well, t'eh woulda been, but I put some 'side t'take downstaiehs t'Siddy. You know t'at man don' eat much'a nut'n t'at don' come out'va can? T'at's why he's so skinny. An' I betcha t'at's why he's bawl-headed too. It ain' healt'y t'eat outa cans." "Well," snickers Sally, "chicken fat'll put haieh on'nis chest." "Oh," nods Alice, "he ain' got nut'n t'worry 'bout t'eh. It's like he sleeps wit' a raccoon coat awn." "What?" "Nut'n.")


("He ain't so strong though, awlways complainin' about bein' on his feet all day..")


("Gambling!" roars a familiar moose-like voice from the telephone receiver. "Mr. MacPhail?" mumbles John McDonald. "It's three o'clock in the morning." "WHAT DID I SAY TO YOU ABOUT GAMBLING! TELL DUROCHER HE'S FIRED! AND CLEAN OUT YOUR OWN DESK TOO! AND CLEAN OUT MY DESK WHILE YOU'RE AT IT! AND SEND ME MY MOOSEHEAD! I'M LONELY! AND DON'T CALL ME AT THREE A M!" "No sir," sighs Mr. MacDonald. "Sir?" "WHAT IS IT NOW BOY? I CAN"T GIVE YOU RACING TIPS, I DON'T KNOW ANY OF THE HORSES HERE. STOP CALLING ME!" "I've missed you, sir.")


(I dunno, Jo, it looks like your hairline's receding a bit.)


(Fish in a barrel.)


(Don't think you can mess around with mild-mannered reporter Clark Kent!)






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


It's rare to see radio stars end up on Page Four. They're usually very wholesome people. Opera stars on the other hand, well...


"HO HO **HACK! HAWK!** HO!" And I bet that beard reeks.


I wonder if Carl Ed's new assistant is moonlighting for Chester Gould?


This type of thing was very common in the wartime publishing industry, with magazines and newspapers coming and going purely on the basis of paper allocations.


The partisans will get him and they won't waste bullets.


Stay classy.


"Lemme show you another one. Got a watch?"


All in a day's work.




"Oh, I KNEW I shouldn't have sent you to community college!"


One Too Many
St John's Wood, London UK
Harold Teen's Lilums' egalitarian voluptuousness harkens Macbeth: ''double, double, toil and trouble,
fire burn and cauldron bubble,'' witchever witchcraft what-so-ever.
And, certainly our gallant lad Terrence has the situation well in hand or rather arms.


Where The Tourists Meet The Sea

("Hey Ma," greets Joe, bustling into the store with Leonora in one hand and a bulky package wrapped in brown paper and twine in another. "Wait'llya see what I got." "Sooooome presn',!" adds Leonora. "What's ahll this now," inquires Ma, tossing her dishcloth on the counter to greet her son-in-law and her granddaughter. "Remembeh yestehday," explains Joe, slicing the twine with his pocket knife, "when I was sayin'nez t'is old guy in oueh buildin' at's a taileh? Well, ,wait'll ya see what I got in heeh." "Open!" commands Leonora. "Awright, " concedes Joe. "You go ahead'n do it." Leonora makes short of the wrapping to reveal a white cardboard box bearing the insignia of M. Ginsburg Men & Boys Wear. Joe lifts the lid, unwraps the tissue paper, and displays the contents. "Will ye look at thaaaat!" marvels Ma. "Yeh," grins Joe. "I wen' down't'see Misteh Ginsboig, see, he's gotta shop roun'a corneh, an' I tol' 'im about Willie, right? An' how he needed some decent cloe's f'school? An' he sez 'wait heeh,' an'ee goes inna back room an'nen he comes back out wit' t'is box. He says somebody ordehed it f'sump'n las' yeeh, an' neveh picked it up." "Such a noice little suit a' cloe's," beams Ma. "So well made. Ohh, Joseph, it musta cost ye a boondle. Let me give ye some..." "Not a nick'l," dismisses Joe, holding up his palm. "Misteh G says it's wit' his compliments. He says it's whatcha cawl a mitzvah!" "A mitzvah!" marvels Ma. "Can ye imagine thaaat. Y'd swear t'look at it it was blue serrrge!")

American, British, and Chinese war leaders today hailed the past year as one of "unequaled triumphs on the Allied military, economic, and diplomatic fronts, and predicted victory in the "death struggles" that lie ahead. The military and diplomatic officials made their prediction in the current issue of the "Army and Navy Journal." General Sir Harold R. L. G. Alexander, commander of the 15th Army Group in the Mediterranean stated that one of the Allies' primary goals for 1943, the elimination of Italy from the war, has been accomplished while at the same time "many decisive and disastrous blows" have been delivered to clear the way for "the impending death struggle with Germany on the European continent."

Prospects for an early peace between Russia and Finland faded today with a Soviet warning that the Finns must assume full responsibility for their role in the shelling of Leningrad, and an insistence from Finnish President Risto Ryti that his country will not offer an unconditional surrender. An official statement from the Soviet Information Bureau noted that the Finns are still actively participating alongside the Germans in the shelling of Leningrad's residential districts.

War Relocation Administration Director Dillon Myer told a Dies subcommittee today that while the WRA investigated the rioting by internees at the Tula Lake Relocation Center last month, there were no arrests and no punitive action was taken. The Army, Myer testified, has since taken "proper action" in the matter. The subcommittee also placed into the record an affidavit from camp steward Ralph E. Peck charging that "theivery was rampant" at the camp, including the theft of "seven to eight pound beef roasts" by two internees, and that one internee was not punished after "breaking into the apartment of a white woman." Peck further charged that one white teacher in the WRA school advocated "intermingling of the races," and told students that "the attack on Pearl Harbor was justified."


(Two years ago today.)

A veteran of the bitter battle of Guadalcanal today reminded students at Manual Traning High School of the sacrifices being made by servicemen and women on their behalf. "They are willing to be 12,000 miles from home," declared Marine Corps chaplain Lt. Thomas R. Reardon in a Pearl Harbor Day address, "so that our country can be safe." Lt. Reardon told the students "there is no drama in warfare, and there is no humor in death. There is only stark reality," and he emphasized that whether you are an officer, a private first class, or a chaplain, "everyone lives alike. In the foxholes you don't declare yourself a member of the Knights of Columbus or the Elks, or that you're a Protestant, Catholic, or Jew. Or that your father has a million dollars. On the battlefront, it's all leveled down to Americanism."


(Not every fighter for Americanism fights in a foxhole.)

The Eagle Editorialist declares that the unity displayed by President Roosevelt, Prime Minister Churchill, and Premier Stalin at the Teheran Conference "brings new heart to the Allies," and praises the Big Three themselves for their statement affirming that unity: "We came here with hope and determination. We leave here friends -- in fact, in spirit, and in purpose."

The EE also urges all Brooklyn to remember Pearl Harbor on the second anniversary of the Japanese attack that brough the United States into the war, and declares that "before Pear Harbor Day rolls around again, Japan will fail realize how fatal was the decision of her warlords to challenge the courage and might of the American people."


("You mean war is like school? Do you mean I could be a 3-A?")


("I like t'is Olmo guy," affirms Sally. "When he comes upta bat, t'ey yell ARRIBA ARRIBA! Y'know what t'at means? It means --- um, I dunno what it means. I neveh took no Spanish. But I t'ink it means "LINE DRIVE UP T'MIDDLE!" "I t'ink he's good lookin'," adds Alice. "Y'know, he kinda looks like Siddy, if Siddy wasn' bawl-headed. An' if he was, you know, f'm Puerteh Riceh." "Inna eyes'a t'beholdeh," snickers Sally. "Well he is TOO good lookin'," Alice retorts. "Siddy, I mean. He's good lookin'. F'ra skinny bawl-headed guy." "You keep sayin' 'ees skinny. He ain'nat skinny," points out Sally. "Well," concedes Alice, "compaehed t'me...")


(Well, wait'll you see the cat...)


("Oh dear! It wasn't like this with Leona!")

(Smack him, Swenson, he's no Herrenvolk.)




(Hey Kitty, look up the page. Got a job for ya!)


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


The Mayor's broadcast next week will be interesting.




"Hildegarde!!!! WHAT ABOUT ME?????" -- Gypsy.


Everybody's a wise guy.


"Oh no, this is just the first degree. Second degree is the bright light in your face. Third degree is the rubber hose."


"Besides, he's a dollar a year man, so we obviously can't afford it..."


Movies on paper.


"No more you to worry about man weeth wheeskers."


You have to admire Emmy's sanguinity.


Somehow I don't see Lena going door to door for the War Fund.


Where The Tourists Meet The Sea
I suspect the good Mr. G. is one of these people who's always talking about retiring, and always planning to retire, and never ever will. But I also imagine he's only open for business when he wants to be.

For all we know, Alice will go down in history as the inventor of "vanity sizing."
New York City
I suspect the good Mr. G. is one of these people who's always talking about retiring, and always planning to retire, and never ever will. But I also imagine he's only open for business when he wants to be.

When I lived in Boston, in the late '90s/early '00s there was an old immigrant Italian tailor who was like that. The guy was very talented, a bit cranky, had posted hours that didn't mean anything and his pricing was pulled out of his head and different every time, but always reasonable. And, of course, his wife ran the counter.


Where The Tourists Meet The Sea

("So," sos Sally, "how'd Willie like 'is fois' day at good ol' P. S. 92?" "Oi wish I knew," shrugs Ma. "Oi dressed 'im up an' waalked him ovarr an' when they was done, I waalked ovarr an' waalked 'im back home, aan he nevar said a solitary waard th' whole time. Oi asked him how he loiked his teacharr an' he just shrugged. An' then he sat down aat the coontar here an' played with them strawws till suppartime, an' then he went to bed. Naaaht a warrrd." "Ma," hesitates Sally, "you think he's -- um -- awright? I mean, Leonoreh ain' even t'ree yet, an' she's awrways tawkin', even loinin' t'read. But t'is kid, I mean, I haven' even hoid'm say a single woid. Is he -- awright?" "He's joost froightened, daaghter," replies Ma. "Thaat's ahll. After what happn'd to 'im, c'n ye blame 'im?" "I guess," sighs Sally. "Remines me a' when we got Stella. You know, oueh cat. Joe brung'eh home one night, you remembeh me tellin' ya? T'eh was t'is ol' teacheh a' mine fr'm Erasmus, Miss Stella we cawled 'eh, an' she died, an'neh was awlese cats aroun'eh house-- an' Joe read about it inna papeh an' wen' oveh t'eh whenna cops was cleanin'a place out, an' he foun'nis one lit'l cat t'at looked really scaiet, an'ne slipped'eh unneh 'is coat an' brung 'eh home. Pooeh t'ing was terrified at fois', hid undeh t'eh stove, hid undeh t'bed, didn' wanna come out at awl at fois'. Maybe Willie's just actin' like t'at." "Who knows what he went thru livin' with that mothaarr of his," growls Ma. "Oi'd still like to get my hands on'narr farr jus' foive minutes." "I still wish y'd let me take 'im home," reiterates Sally. "You don't need no extreh boiden, runnin'is place awl by yaself." "Oi'll manage," sighs Ma. "Oi ahhlways manage." "Yeh," acknowledges Sally. "Ya awrways do.")

The Administration, led by War Mobilization Director James F. Byrnes today pressed an intensified eleventh hour drive to prevent President Roosevelt's anti-inflation program from collapsing under mounting pressure for higher prices and wages. Going before the nation in a radio address, Byrnes issued a solemn appeal to all groups wielding "political pistols" for special privileges -- farm bloc members asking higher prices and labor organizations demanding higher wages -- to "lay that pistol down" or "our nation will lose the peace while our boys win the war." "If we do not hold the line now," Byrnes warned, "I must confess I do not know where or how we are going to hold back the floodgates of inflation. There are no prepared positions to which we can retreat."

Regional OPA Administrator and former New York City Commissioner of Markets Daniel Wooley today promised that a crackdown is coming on food gougers. Wooley declared that he is well aware of the fact that nearly half the food now sold in the city is being sold at prices above the legal ceilings, and while that figure is even higher in other cities within his region -- Philadelphia, for example, at 57 percent -- he intends to "clean up New York" first.

Former Kansas governor and 1936 Republican presidential nominee Alfred M. Landon is planning to meet with former President Herbert Hoover in an attempt to start a "Draft Dewey" movement for the 1944 Republican presidential nomination. Landon ranked the New York governor as "an outstanding possibility" for the GOP nomination in 1944. Landon spoke with Gov. Dewey for nearly an hour yesterday, and stressed that he did not talk politics during the interview, with the discussion said to be confined to postwar conditions, employment, and the oil situation. When the Governor was subsequently informed of Landon's remarks praising his possibility as a candidate his only reply was "Thank you."


("Lookit, honey," says Joe, holding Leonora up and pointing her to the book table. "How 'bout t'ese? See anyt'ing ya like? I know t'ey ain' got nut'n heeh 'bout bein' a lawyeh awra city council a' nut'n, but t'ez time f't'at lateh. Some'a t'ese look pretty good, huh?" "Moons," delcares Leonora, pointing to a colorful blue-and-yellow cover. "Oh yeh," nods Joe. "James Thoibeh. I dunno, ain' he kin'a whatchacawl sophisticated? I seen'at one he wrote'na magazine'eh, bout t'at Walteh Mitty, bout'tat guy awrways tawkin' to'imse'f. 'Magin'eat, a guy goes aroun' awlatime tawkin' to 'imself. Heh. Guy like t'at oughta get lawked up, huh?" "Moons," repeats Leonora, with a Sally-like insistence. "Heh," chuckles Joe. "Moons it is.")


("Goil Crazy," hmphs Alice. "Ain'ney got any new ideehs f'pitchehs? Remember when Wheeleh an' Woolsey made t'at pitcheh? It's t'same t'ing, an' Boit Wheeleh is lots funnieh t'en Mickey Rooney. An'nen'is one heeh, "Son a' Dracula." Who eveh hoid'a Dracula havin' a kid anyway? Hey Siddy, ya listenin' to me?" "Yeh," nods Krause, giving the furnace grates a shake. "Dracula havin' a kid," muses Alice. "I wondeh what t'at's like. I mean, Dracula can't get up inna mawrnin' an' see t'kid offta school, right? So I guess Mrs. Dracula's gotta do t'at, jus' like evry't'ing else. It ain' faieh, y'know? Even if, y'know, ya married t'Dracula ya gotta right t'spect 'im t'help out wit' t'kids. I bet if we had a kid, you wouldn' be no Dracula, wouldja? I mean, jus' s'posin' we had a kid. You'd help out, right?" Krause closes the fire door, wipes the soot off his hands with a grimy rag, and says "Yeh.")

Reader Joe Ferguson writes in to wonder why, since the dimout was lifted more than a month ago, Fulton Street isn't ablaze with lights. Not only would the restoration of prewar lighting cheer holiday shoppers, he asserts that it would serve to discourage "thugs" from plying their trade.


(Famous Last Words.)

(Surveying classes? I wonder if any of them could play third base?)

Dolph Camilli may have a rival for the post of manager with the Oakland Oaks. Oakland owner Brick Laws is said to be talking to Earl Brucker, veteran catcher-coach with the Philadelphia Athletics who was just given his unconditional release by Connie Mack so that he might "seek a managerial job." Camilli, who refused to report to the Giants last summer and went home to California after being traded away from the Dodgers, had been considered the front runner for the Oakland job.


(I can't wait to see the special effects.)


("Ladylike? What was I supposed to do, wave my fan? Do you know how much I get paid to wave my fan???")


("Oh, and lose the German accent. You're Swedish. Try to sound like El Brendel.")




("And without ME, lady, that mouse is in your bed running over your face!")


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


War Is Hell.


"New York's Picture Newspaper."


"You're not going to stop by the luggage counter? For the Chief, I mean? Because he's really...Tracy? Where'd you go?"


"But Annie -- newspaper distribution is controlled by -- you know -- the mob. You don't want to-- oh, never mind."


"What's he talking about? Honestly, these kids with their comic books. Anyway, lay down a smoke screen and let's get outa here. I'm missing the USO show."


And yes, that is, indeed, The Incomparable Hildegarde wearing two cupcakes strapped to her chest.


"Ahhh, I am as you say *in* the Resistance. But I am not -- ah -- "


"Why don't you just go down cellar and help the cat?"


Poor kid. Not only is he short and bald, now he's got ulcers.


"I guess they musta been lookin' for Walt Wallet's house and got us by mistake."


One Too Many
St John's Wood, London UK
After reading the story of Sgt Frank Martz murdering the little girl I searched the case and report
that defendant was convicted and appealed upon specious rigamarole but failed with conviction
affirmed so went the weasel to his death 24 November 1945.


Where The Tourists Meet The Sea

("Nick'ls," says Leonora, pointing to the neat stacks on the counter. "He'p g'amma cou't nick'ls." Willie, absorbed in his straws, pays her no heed. "He'p g'amma," insists Leonora. "Cou't nick'ls!" She pushes an unsorted pile of coins toward her cousin, who continues to ignore her. "HE'P G'AMMA!" she commands, slapping Willie on his arm. With a sudden hard shove, Willie leaps up and pushes Leonora off her stool. Striking her head on the marble base of the counter, Leonora screams with pain as blood trickles from her scalp and Willie races upstairs in terror. Ma rushes out of the back room, dropping the additional nickels she'd gone to fetch, and hurries to her granddaughter's aid. "WILLIE!" she bellows. "WILLIE!!!!!")

Spokesmen for the American Woman, whose job it is to adjust the family budget, marched on Congress today in opposition to the Farm Bloc's drive to kill the Administration's food subsidy program. Aroused by Administration warnings that the end of the subsidy program would mean an immediate rise in food prices, a coaltion of women's organizations including the Mothers Club of America, the American Association of University Women, the National Consumers' League, the American Federation of Teachers, Consumers Union, the League of Women Shoppers, and the National Council of Negro Women protested at meetings of the Senate Banking Committee and at an emergency conference at the House of Representatives that had been called by Rep. Thomas E. Scanlan (D-Penn.), chairman of a special committee for the protectio of consumers. Rep. Mary T. Norton (D-N.J.) stated that she has received thousands of letters and telegrams in opposition to the Farm Bloc position. "I have always hoped for an issue that would united the women of America," she declared, "and here it is."

Allied high strategists today, it appeared, have abandoned whatever hope they may have had that air power alone will defeat Germany. Mounting signs pointed to an Allied land invasion of Western Europe no longer being in the "if" stage, but in the "when," with a final decision having likely been made at the Big Three conference in Teheran, which came, observers pointed out, following the heaviest bombings of Germany by Allied planes.

In Englewood, Colorado an Army sergeant told police today that reading "vampire stories" in pulp magazines "confused his mind," and led him to rape and murder 3-year-old Kathleen Ann Geist. Thirty-three-year-old Sgt. Frank Martz broke down in sobs as he confessed to luring the child to his apartment from a tavern while her mother was distracted playing a pinball machine, by promising her candy and a toy rabbit. He then beat her and strangled her to death with an electrical cord. Martz told police he had read several stories in detective magazines on Monday afternoon, including one about a vampire who "sucked blood from his victims," and that he subsequently got so drunk he "couldn't remember what happened."


("I ki'na wish," sighs Sally, resting the paper on her lap as the train bumps homeward, "t'ey'd just do it an' get it oveh wit'. Jus' not befoeh Chris'mas. Give us one moeh Chris'mas, 'at's awl I ask." "Yeh," is Alice's somber reply. "An' New Yeeh's Eve too. T' wedd'n would'n be t'same wit'out Joe. I mean, what if Siddy gets col' feet? I mean, he's awready got col' feet, y'know, he hasta weah socks t'bed, but, um -- uh -- you know what I mean." "Yeh," exhales Sally. "Yeh.")


("Ahhhhhl roit, boys," calls Uncle Frank, his breath condensing in the crisp night air, as he slaps the tailgate of the truck. "Off with ye now!" As the truck rolls out of the obscure Flatlands warehouse on its evening errand, Uncle Frank watches the glow of the tailight until it vanishes in the distance, and then steps back inside, whistling a cheerful tune.)

Although Christmas trees and other seasonal greenery have been hard to get so far this season, experts predict the supply for Brooklyn residents will at least be "adequate" this year. Supplies of trees grown in Northern points and other greenery supplied from the West and South have begun arriving in the metropolitan area, but there remain distribution bottlenecks that have kept them scarce in certain sections of the borough. One Brooklyn dealer questioned stated that he currently has no trees to sell, nor does he know when he will have them, or what the price will be when they finally do arrive. The question of prices remains an open one, and no one connected with the Christmas tree trade, either at the wholesale or retail level, was willing to be pinned down on that touchy topic.


(It's a little known fact that all Senators in 1943 are issued a broad-brimmed black hat and a ribbon tie upon their arrival at the Capitol. Imperial collars are optional.)


(What, pro football overrun with GAMBLING? I am SHOCKED, SHOCKED. And let's all resolve right now to root real hard for Mr. Camilli to lead his new club to the PCL pennant next year. In your ear, Mr. Rickey.)


(You think YOU'VE got problems.)


(Hmph, I bet neither one of the old cows could do a bubble dance.)


(This dialogue is hilarious coming from Walter Catlett. I do so hope the big leader turns out to be Ned Sparks.)


(Shoulda hit her in the knees.)


(Poor Kitty. This whole family is rotten.)


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


This Mr. Russell Miller must be a real pip.


Tick tick tick tick tick....

A kamikaze truck? Is that even a thing?


Best love story in the comics.




Kindergarten *is* a highly competitive environment.


Hey, how about you listen to "The Great Gildersleeve" instead.


"Sure is a good thing I learned never to listen to those voices in my head!"


What's the problem? Go stick up a pharmacist.


You've been a kid for twenty years, son. You should probably get that looked at.

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