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The Era -- Day By Day


Where The Tourists Meet The Sea

("I'm sawry, Ma," Joe shrugs. "But me'n Sal sat up awl night tawkin' it oveh, an' -- well -- we bot' t'ink we'd rat'eh not bring Leonoreh oveh heeh no moeh as long as -- well, you know. I mean, weeh lucky it was jus'a bump onna head -- it coulda been a lot woise." Ma nods and lets out a deep sigh. "Sal's absenteein' fr'm woik t'day," Joe continues. "She's gonna go aroun' an' see if one'a t'ese noisery places c'n take Leonoreh f't'time bein'. It'll cawst us, but.." "There now, Nora, ye see," interjects Uncle Frank, with a sharp jut of his beefy forefinger. "I told ye we gaaaht to do soomethin' about that boy. Now I can taaahk to Doyle, an' he'll see to it that no questions..." "No," insists Ma with a sharp snap, "Oi told ye before an' Oi'll tell ye again, Oi'll not turn me grandson ovar to no police, not Doyle nahhr anyboody else. Oi'll not have him sent to no home." "Nora," glares Uncle Frank, "Faaahr be it fr' me t'be th' one t'say it -- but are ye SURE that boy is really ye grandson? Are ye SAAAAARTAIN?" "Shut your mouth, Francis Leary," erupts Ma, "an' keep it shut! All ye got to do is LOOK at the choild t'know that..." "AHHHL ROIT, ahhl roit," interrupts Uncle Frank. "Here's an oideah. Whaat if Oi taahk t' Missis Bevan. She has thaat whole big house down on Fenimaaaahr Street, roit across fr'm the Methodist Chaaarch, an' she has ahhl those young ladies tharrr who could help oooot..." "You bettar go, Francis," growls Ma, her breath coming in short bursts, "befaaar Oi..." "Ahhhl roit, ahhhl roit," fumes Uncle Frank. "Ye know everything, ye aaaaaaahlways know everything. But be it on ye own head!" He exits, slamming the door behind him, as Joe lets out a deep breath. "I'm sawry," he repeats. "But we jus' can't take a chance. How *is* t' kid, anyways?" "He was vaaary sorry fahhr what he done," sighs Ma. "We foond him hoidin' way baack in the bedroom closet, cryin'." "Whattaya gonna DO?" asks Joe. "Oi don't know, Joseph," replies Ma, her head in her hands. "Oi really don't know.")

Heavy losses inflicted on Allied sea and air forces on the German U-Boat fleet may compel the Germans to abandon for good their submarine wolf-pack tactics, military observers predicted today. This possibility gained strength following a joint Anglo-American announcement that in November, for the second successive month,. the number of U-Boats sunk exceeded the number of their victims. Furthermore, German submarines were said to have sunk fewer Allied merchant ships in November than in any other month since May of 1940. It is suspected that given their diminished numbers, the German submarine fleet may be forced to return to its former "hit and run" tactics spread out over a wider area of the sea.


(War IS hell.)

Medical authorities say the wave of mild influenza currently sweeping the country may be a blessing in disguise, forestalling the risk of a more serious epidemic. Only a few deaths have been reported, with the worst results in most cases being a few days lost from jobs. Dr. Morris Fishbein, editor of the Journal of the American Medical Association, speculated that the immunity granted by the current flu strain will help to temporarily immunize persons against any more serious variety that might arise later in the season.


(Beer jackets covered with your friends' signatures are so 1939. Get with the times, kids.)


("I'm sorry, madam," purrs the voice at the end of the wire. "We're simply not equipped to care for a two-year-old." "Well," pleads Sally, leaning into the phone as Lenora squirms in the booth, "she's goin' on t'ree. She's real smawrt f'heh age, she c'n ev'n read a lit'l." "I'm sorry, madam," returns the voice, with a tinge of regret. "Good day." Sally returs the receiver to its hook and hears the nickel clink into the coin box. She fishes in her bag for another nickel, looks at the slip of ads torn out of the paper, sighs, crumples the clipping, and drops it on the floor. "Go he'p g'amma?" inquires Leonora, picking at the bandage on her forehead. "Not t'day," sighs Sally, pushing open the door, and pointing to the Schreibstein's lunch counter. "Hey, I know, honey," she proposes. "Wanna san'wich? T'ey got good san'wiches in heeh, real good cheese san'wiches? Wanna cheese san'wich?" "No," sniffs Leonora. "Cou'n nick'ls!" "C'mon, honey," sighs Sally. "Le's go.")


(As I've mentioned, I met Clyde Sukeforth, former Dodger catcher, Dodger coach, Dodger scout, and Montreal manager, who used to live about twenty miles from where I do, and "quiet and self-effacing" is exactly the description I'd use. It helps to be that way when you work for Branch Rickey.)

Commissioner K. M. Landis has held up the deal intended to turn Dolph Camilli's contract over to the Oakland Oaks. The Giants have proposed that Oakland give them catcher Bill Rigney in exchange for the former Dodger first baseman, but Landis is investigating the trade, insisting that the Giants must also pay Oakland $20,000 to compensate the Oaks for the loss of Rigney. Camilli is expected to manage the Oaks in 1944 if the deal goes thru, and, if his health permits, may also play some.


("Do you think anybody'll notice?" "IN THIS BUILDING?")


("Oh, I'll give'm a show all right!")


("Ehhhh, all these Swedes look alike to me.")


(Well, at least they didn't break her legs.)




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


"Hooray for Bing Crosby?" snorts Lieutenant Rudy Vallee of the U. S. Coast Guard, with a shoot of his gold-braided cuff. "What about ME?"


If only there was some way to help ex-servicement resume their education....


"Couldn't be bundles of blank ration books, now could it? 'Course, that's NO BUSINESS OF MINE. SERIOUSLY IT'S NO BUSINESS OF MINE."


Ew, somebody clean that up.


Hey, at least it's not a kidney stone.




"How about a Long Island potato farm?" "Don't be ridiculous."


You really do need to get that front door fixed.


"'Course, you could do like I do and join the Resistance..."


"No doubt about it, it's cystitis. When was the last time the health inspector looked at that fountain?"


Where The Tourists Meet The Sea

("Well, I dunno," sighs Sally as the train bumps into the tunnel. "Joe hadda pull a lotta strings t'get'm t'take Leonoreh innat noissery t'ey got at Sperry's, an' I ain' not grateful a' nut'n, but -- I mean, you know t'kin'a charactehs hangaroun' Bush Toimenal?" "I useta go out wit' a guy woiked'eh," nods Alice. "One day he toin't up dead." Sally's head snaps around and she scowls. "Whattaya mean," she demands, "he toin't up dead." "He choked t'deat," explains Alice, shaking her head at the memory. "He stuck a pool bawl in 'is mout' t'win a bet, an'nee couldn' get it out. An' y'know what bawl it was? T' eight bawl. I awrways t'ought t'eh was sump'n funny about t'at." "Well," sighs Sally, "I jus' hope t'ey treat Leonoreh right. She's p'ticuleh, y'know." "She was p'ticuleh innat noissery oveh t'oueh fact'ry," nods Alice. "A lit'l *too* p'ticuleh." "Ahhh, she's oldeh now," dismisses Sally. "She's moeh whatchacawl matueh. B'sides, I got it awl figyehed out. See, she likes t'count t'em nick'ls oveh t'Ma's place, so I give 'eh a lit'l bag a' nick'ls an' told 'eh t'count'm f' Gran'ma. She looks at me real serious an' says 'I take caehr've it.' "Sal," queries Alice after a brief silence. "Whattya t'ink's gonna hap'n t' Willie?" "I dunno," sighs Sally. "Ma's gonna do t'bes' she can till Mickey comes home. An'nen -- well, I dunno." "It was a helluva t'ing his ma jus' leavin'im t'eh t'way she done," continues Alice. "A decen' poisson wouldn' do sump'n like t'at." "No," agrees Sally. "A decen' poisson would not." "If I had a kid, I'd neveh do nut'n like t'at," affirms Alice. "I t'ink *I'm* a decen' possion." "Yeh," nods Sally. "Yeh, I t'ink you awr.")

Director of Selective Serivce Gen. Lewis B. Hershey was called before the House MIlitary Affairs Committee today to explain why draft officials have been "lying to Congress" about the induction of prewar fathers. That charge was made by Chairman Andrew J. May (D-Ky.), who announced that General Hershey will appear before a closed meeting of the panel to explain in detail future policy under the newly-enacted father draft law. May said that the legislation, announced yesterday to have been signed by President Roosevelt, was intended to delay the induction of pre-Pearl Harbor fathers, and that draft officials had indicated that the policy would be carried out. But May also said that he understood such fathers are already being drafted, and that Hershey has been predicted that as many as 1,000,000 such father will be in uniform by July 1944.

The new law strips War Manpower Commission chairman Paul V. McNutt of all authority over Selective Service, and transfers final control to Hershey. It was speculated that McNutt may be planning to resign his job in protest, but he declined any comment on that rumor.

With the new law taking effect, Gen. Hershey immediately announced the abolition of the 3-A draft classification for fathers, and instructed draft boards to reclassify all men within that category. They are to be placed in one of the following categories: 1-A, for immediate induction;. 2-A as occupationally deferred; 3-D as dependency hardship cases; 1-A-O as conscientious objectors willing to accept non-combantant service; and 4-E as conscientious objectors willing to accept work of national importance. Many draft boards, however, having already exhausted their pools of available non-fathers have already reclassified 3-A fathers in order to meet their quotas. Hershey is expected to issue orders placing draft calls on a national rather than a regional basis, thus insuring that all possible non-fathers are taken into the service before fathers are called. The new law carries a section prohibiting the induction of pre-Pearl Harbor fathers while non-fathers remain available, a judgement to be made "on the basis of the best information available, and without interfering with the usual regularly and orderly flow of manpower into the Armed Forces."


(With a sigh, Ma sets the paper down on the counter, reaches under the counter for a little tobacco pouch she's secreted there, and opens it to withdraw a single pair of dice. She tosses the dice several times, always producing the same result. She glances over at Willie, absorbed in stacking his straws, and rolls the dice again. The boy looks up momentarily, but returns immediately to his straws.)


("Oh, wait, someone already took it. You know, these pickpockets are completely out of control!")


(Sonny Tufts wouldn't last five minutes in a shipyard.)


(In his Montreal apartment, John McDonald's eyes snap open at the ringing of the bedside telephone. "Sir...." he answers, with no further need to confirm the caller. "WHAT'S ALL THIS NONSESE?" roars the moose-like voice. "TELL THEM ALL TO CLEAN OUT THEIR DESKS AND PICK UP THEIR CHECKS. WAIT, NEVER MIND THE CHECKS. WE"LL MAIL THEM, POSTAGE DUE! HAW HAW! AND DON'T CALL ME AGAIN, I NEED MY SLEEP! *click.*" Mr. McDonald lies in bed gazing at the ceiling, the dial tone buzzing in the receiver, and wonders if the Canadian Army is still taking American recruits.)


("An' be careful of that stuff you're drinking! You'll go blind!")


(Six weeks from now Mrs. Sheridan Pendrake will be teetering backstage in a puffy tutu and a feathered headpiece, wondering how it ever came to this.)


("Funny, you don't LOOK Herrenvolk!")


(I wonder if she pays Veronica Lake royalties for that hairdo.)


(Sure, kid, muscle in on an old tramp's only source of income. What awful people these are.)


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


"Caaaareful, boys," directs Uncle Frank, huddled in a heavy overcoat against the cold pre-dawn air, as Danny and Jimmy carry crates of corn off the back of the truck and into the warehouse. "Thaaaaat stooof's as good as gooold!"


"Petrauskas!" snaps a foghorn voice, raised to be audible over the hum of machinery, as Joe stands at his bench. "T'is is Miss Kaplan," continues the foreman, introducing a young woman in crisp overalls. "We'eh breakin'eh in onnis machine. Show'eh t' ropes." "Yesseh," gulps Joe. "You done mucha t'is kin'a woik?" "Yeh yeh," insists Miss Kaplan. "Heeh, lemme at it."


"Oh no, more overtime???"


Well won't this be a nice party.


"I thought you'd never ask!"


War is fought on a battlefield of broken hearts.




"Tis the season to be petty...."


I mean, turkey's still hard to get...


"Oh, and that'll be ten cents for the ipecac..."


One Too Many
St John's Wood, London UK
Most Brooklyn girls will learn that within reasonable bounds relations between men and women
are not constrained by age alone but availability, wartime ever so much more so.
A rather precious scold so sweetly writ though.
New York City
Most Brooklyn girls will learn that within reasonable bounds relations between men and women
are not constrained by age alone but availability, wartime ever so much more so.
A rather precious scold so sweetly writ though.

What always amazes me about those letters is the effort that went into them - paper, pen, sit down, write, envelope, address, stamp, lick, mail. It takes no effort to rant on social media today, but Sailor Crazy Lizzie put some real time and effort into that little screed.
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Where The Tourists Meet The Sea

("Joe," whispers Sally, pulling the blankets close in the frosty pre-dawn. The luminous hands of the Baby Ben on the nightstand read quarter of four, and Stella the cat sleeps the sleep of the just at the foot of the bed. "Joe," whispers Sally again. "I know ya awake. Y'been squoimin' awl night." "Sawrry," apologizes Joe. "I can't sleep." "Whassamatteh?" inquires Sally. "Y'been squoimin' eveh since y'got in bed. You eat too much innat greasy cafeterieh again? Go have a Tum." "Nah," nahs Joe. "Keep y'verce down," admonishes Sally. "Y'dowanna wake up Leonoreh. If it ain' indigestion, 'nen, whassamatteh?" "It's what I was tellin'ya when I come home," sighs Joe. "T'at new gal t'ey brung in -- t'at I gotta train t'woik on my machine. Y'know what t'at means, don'cha? It means'eh gett'n ready t'reclassify me. T'eh gett'n me r'placement ready." "Yeh," sighs Sally. "Well, I mean, we knew t'is is been comin' awl alawng, right? It's awrways been jus' a matteh'ra time. But t'eh takin' awla kids fois', y'know, be a while yet befoeh t'ey get t'you." "I know," agrees Joe. "An' it ain' like I ain' -- ready -- I guess. S'awl I c'n t'ink about, y'know? An' I'm ready, I guess, but -- I mean, awlso I ain' ready. I mean me, pick up a gun an' shoot somebody? Y'know, las' summeh I ast Uncle Frank t'take me out an' teach me about gun shootin'." "Yeh," replies Sally. "I know awlabout'tat." "Oh," ohs Joe. "T'en ya know t'at I -- wasn't too good at it." "Yeh," Sally responds. "Look, t'ez t'ings inna woil' y'can do sump'n about an'nez t'ings ya can't. I mean, I mean, I'd cut Hitleh's t'roat myself wit' a bread knife, an' not t'ink two seconds about it -- if I could. But I can't, an'neh ain' no way I can. So, y'know.." "Yeh," sighs Joe. "T'ez t'ings ya wanna do, an'nez t'ings ya gotta do. But it's jus' -- I mean, t'is yeeh. Awla stuff t'at's happ'nt. I mean, Leonoreh gett'n sick las' winteh, Solly gett'n shot, me fawlin' downa subway gett'n me head hoit, you goin' backta woik, t'at gas leak awmos' blowin' up t'jernt, Mickey inna prison camp, Ma havin'nat stroke. An' now t'is kid'a Mickey's showin' up." "Yeh," replies Sally. "Helluveh yeeh." There is a long silence. "I guess'at's why I can't sleep," sighs Joe. "Ev'ryt'ing seems t'be rushin' to a climax. You know what t'at's like?" "Yeh," agrees Sally. There is another long silence. "Onna ot'eh han'," suggests Sally, "maybe t'at ain' a bad idea. Might helpya sleep." There is another long silence. "Oh," replies Joe, as Sally rolls over, and Stella thumps peevishly to the floor.)

President Roosevelt, winging homeward from the Cairo-Teheran conferences paused for 48 hours at the ancient North African city of Carthage to acquaint Gen. Dwight D. Eisenhower with "new overall strategy" formulated by Allied staff chiefs for the defeat of Germany, the White House revealed today. In a villa overlooking the ruins of the city destroyed by Rome before the Christian Era, Mr. Roosevelt gave Eisenhower "details of the grand Meditteranean strategy determined upon collaboration with Prime Minister Churchill and the joint British-American staffs." It was considered possible by observers that this "new overall strategy" was a guarded reference to hitherto-unmentioned plans for new operations.

A probe of the New York City Police Department by the State Legislature would result from a bill to be proposed by Manhattan Assemblyman William J. Glancy, representing the districts of Washington Heights and Inwood. Glancy, a Democrat, told the Eagle last night that he is prepared to introduce legislation when the new Legislative session opens in Albany next week to establish a joint legislative committee to undertake such a wide-ranging investigation of the Department and whether its operations are in fact inadequate to combat crime in the metropolitan area. He noted in particular the recent pronouncement of the Kings County Grand Jury which concluded that "shortsighted and imprudent policies of the LaGuardia Administration" have led to a critical shortage of uniformed patrolmen in Brooklyn, and he asserted that this problem is not just confined to Brooklyn but affects the entire city.

A new bill to legalize bingo in New York State will be submitted to the new legislative session under the auspices of State Senator Louis B. Heller and Assemblyman Robert J. Crews. The two indicated that they are submitting the bill at the instance of church organizations, following Governor Dewey's veto in the last legislative session of a bill that would have legalized bingo games conducted by religious, chairtable and fraternal organizations. The Governor indicated that his veto of that bill was necessary due to the fact that allowing bingo would contravene the State Constitution, and the Heller-Crews bill would resolve that problem by amending the Constitution to reflect that bingo games run by such groups do not constitute "gambling" but are rather "a pastime." Should the bill be enacted by the legislature and signed by the Governor, a consitutional amendment would go to the voters in 1945.




(Well-deserved congratulations to our Mr. Lichty --- but, um, I don't think those are REALLY the words to that song...)

The 27th annual sale of Christmas Seals conducted by the Tuberculosis and Health Association is now underway in Brooklyn, with a local quota of $125,000 to be raised for tuberculosis research. Thousands of letters were mailed on November 22nd containing sheets of stamps, and approximately 50 booths have been opened at Brooklyn department stores, hotels, banks, clubs, and other leading establishments where additional seals may be purchased.

Brooklyn City Councilman Peter V. Caccchione writes in to praise Magistrate J. Roland Sala, Judge Louis Sobol, and District Attorney William O'Dwyer for their recent statements denouncing the "anti-Negro" implications of the recent Kings County Grand Jury presentment on crime in Bedford-Stuyvesant. "In certain other parts of the country," notes Cacchione, "there have been attacks on the Negro people. But it is a credit to the understanding of the people of New York City that there have been no race riots here."


("Yes sarrrr," says Ma, making a quick scrawl with a stubby pencil. "Foive dollars on the Goiants aaaht eve mooney. INgersoll 2-5041. Yes, Oi've got it. Vaaary good sarr." She hangs up the phone just as the door jingles open. "Hiya Ma!" greets Alice Dooley. "We was goin' upta Freddie Fitz's f't'aftehnoon, do some bowlin', t'ought we'd stop in f'ra sodeh fois'. Dish up a coupla Cokes, wouldja? Hey, I wan' ya t'meet me fee-an-cee, t'is is Sid Krause. Siddy, t'is is Ma Sweeney, you know, Sal's ma." "Ah," nods Ma. "Glad t'know ye Mr. Krause." "Yeh," nods Krause, fingering his turned-up hat brim. "I hear," continues Ma, stirring the Cokes and sliding them across the counter, "ye'er a janitor, are ye?" "Neh," replies Krause with an annoyed frown. "He's a SUPEH," interrupts Alice. "He's got chawrge'a t'whole buildin'. It's like bein' whatchacawl a engineeh -- on'y, you know, wit' soot." "I see," eyerolls Ma. Alice glances down the counter toward Willie, who is absorbed in his pile of straws. "Hiya kid," she greets. "Whats'a woid?" Willie makes no reply, as he slides another straw into position. Krause observes the child, and after a moment, steps quietly to his side. Holding up a finger to capture the boy's attention, Krause leans over the counter and gently shifts one straw, stablilizing the pile. He glances down at the boy. "Yeh?" he suggests. Willie squints back at Krause, and then back at the straws. With a small smile he replies "Yeh.")

What went wrong this year with the St. Louis Browns? You may recall the Brownies were widely picked to challenge the Yankees for the pennant before the 1943 campaign got underway but as the season wore on it became apparent to all that they were going to do no such thing. Manager Luke Sewell points to a crucial July series with the Yankees as the turning point, a series the Yankees won in four straight games. After that, Sewell admits, his club never regained its footing. He also points to the Washington Senators as a trouble spot, especially outfielder Stan Spence, who hit Brownie pitching like it was batting practice. Spence hit an inconsequentlial .260 for the year, but Sewell notes that average was made up a .560 performance against the Browns and .216 against the rest of the league. Sewell observes that a .216 hitter couldn't help the Browns much, but he'd still be glad to make a deal for Spence, just so he could send him to Toledo -- "where he couldn't hurt us."


(Mr. Allen missed the first thirteen weeks of the new radio season due to his high blood pressure, which no doubt will rise again when he sees how he looks in this ad.)


(It's a shame John Barrymore is no longer with us, because he'd be great in this part.)


(Marshal Fatso Field Goering? I can never keep these Nazi ranks straight.)


(Somewhere upstate, Bob the Spitz, forever exiled by order of the court from his beloved Flatbush on pain of death, sighs with sympathy.)


(Ha ha. It may interest you to know, Mr. Bushmiller, that I am not afraid of mice, and I don't know any woman who is. So let's just lay off the cheesy mouse jokes, shall we? And hey, nice legs on that courtier, Mr Hix. Now give your wife her stockings back, you know how hard they are to get?)


(Say kid, how would you look with a baggy coat, a stubby cane, slap shoes, and painted-on glasses?)


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


Whoever put the "3 CHOP HOUSES" headline on this page has a really sick sense of humor.


Just the thing for the annoying Second Lieutenant in your life.


What, no hard-working super doing the best he can? I'm disappointed in you, Mr. Hill.


Ever notice how in all these Christmas ads there's only one "girl" toy and it's dumb. Where's the "Little Rosie Home Riveting Set?" Where's the "Official Geneveive Earle Junior Councilwoman Outfit?"


Hey, you needed to lose weight anyway. You wanna have a heart attack?


"If they take over I'll never have any authority around here again!" "What?" "When can they start?" And Corky needs to understand that the market is subject to change without notice.


C'mon kid, you've been in the business long enough to know the joke's no good if you have to explain it. And be careful, Chester, you know what they do to stoolies.


Hunter College? Well all right then.


Of course you've got wrinkles, living with this drip.


These aerial strips make me dizzy,


One Too Many
St John's Wood, London UK
I eschewed the axe grind grist for lighter frivolity before buckling seat belt for Terrence and the Zeros.
Irene and Myrna are dolls. And Imogen. Tommies always chose wisely.
Col Corklin may not survive the dogfight. And here I worried only about Grett.


Where The Tourists Meet The Sea

("Y'shoulda seen it, Sal," grins Alice, leaning to the left as the train takes a sharp turn. "Siddy took t't'kid like he'd knowed 'im awl 'is life. T'ey set t'eh playin' wit'tem straws, an' Siddy connected a bunch'v'm t'getteh like t'ey was, you know, steam pipes, an'na kid jus' looked at 'im, noddin' 'is head like he was soakin' it awl in." "He'sa fois' one 'at's got anyt'ing outta t'at kid," marvels Sally. "Who'da t'ought?" "We ain' tawked much about kids," sighs Alice. "I mean, neit'eh one'v us is 'zackly inna bloom'a yout'. I mean, I'm gonna be t'oity-eight nex' yeeh. Whoeveh hoid'va woman t'oity eight havin' a kid? I was tawkin' t' Mame G about'it, an', y'know what she tol' me? She got five kids, y'know, t'ez awl grown up now, but she raised up five kids -- an' y'know what she tol' me? She was awl done havin' 'em befoeh she was t'oity. An' she stawrted out when she was nineteen. 'Magine'at. Five kids in, whassat, eleven yeehs?" "Good t'ing she spaced'm out," eyerolls Sally. "You was, what," continues Alice. "Twenny eight when you had Leonoreh?" "Yeh," nods Sally. "An' Ma was awrways tellin' me I was gett'n old, an' I betteh get busy befoeh it was too late." "Is it diff'nt now?" inquires Alice. "Do you feel diffn't afteh havin' a kid?" "I don' sleep as much," shrugs Sally. "An' I guess I don' t'row radios out t'windeh as much. I useta get woiked up about a lotta t'ings t'at, I dunno, don' seem t'matteh so much now t'at I got ot'eh t'ings t'get woiked up about." Alice reflects on this comment. "Y'know, Sal, when I was -- um -- livin' upstate, I done a lotta t'inkin'. I done some t'ings in me life I ain' too prouda, an' -- well, I wouldn' min' not doin'em t'ings no moeh. Maybe havin' a kid'd be a good t'ing." "I dunno," sighs Sally. "It ain' like buyin' a new paieh'ra shoes. Y'can'take'a kid backta t'stoeh if it don' fit. Sometimes I miss when, you know, me'n Joe useta be able t'go out dancin' at night, go t'Roselan', have some laughs, y'know? We useta have a lotta fun, him'n me. Y'don' get t'go out dancin' too much when you got a kid t'raise. But onna ot'eh han' -- I mean, you know Leonoreh. Ain' she sump'n?" "Yeh," nods Alice. There is a long silence. "Y'know, Sal," resumes Alice. "T'at Willie's really kin' of a smawrt kid too. I mean, Siddy t'inks so. He tol' me. I ast'im, hey, t'at kid's kina smawrt, makin' t'ings wit'em strawrs, huh? An'ne kina smiles an' says 'yeh.'")

Opportunity for all to live on an equal basis must be guaranteed in the postwar world, if that world is to be worthy of our fighting men. So declared Mrs. Eleanor Roosevelt last night, in a speech delivered in Bedford-Stuyvesant. Speaking at the Fulton-Sumner Street Canteen during a tour of Brooklyn's servicemens' centers, the First Lady warned that "you can't condemn a whole street, section, or town. You can't condemn a whole minority group. You can't say they have traits you don't like. All of us have traits which somebody doesn't like." Mrs. Roosevelt further declared that an equal chance for happiness for all people must come out of this war, "and if that is accomplished, I don't care if it takes years."

Meanwhile, the statement by Monsignor John L. Belford that "fear of hoodlumism" led to the discontinuance of his evening services at the R. C. Church of the Nativity in Bedford-Stuyvesant was challenged last night by Special Sessions Justice Myles L. Paige, who declared the real reason those services were ended were because of the city's campaign to stamp out bingo games. Justice Paige noted that a large number of Msgr. Belford's parishoners were bingo addicts, many of them playig night after night, and it was only after the city quashed the church-backed bingo nights that Belford's parishoners decided they were afraid to go out after dark. Justice Paige -- himself a Negro -- stressed in his remarks last night before an audience of 600 persons at a mass meeting at the First A. M. E. Zion Church in Bedford-Stuyvesant that he is also a Catholic, and that Catholics -- with the notable exception of Msgr. Belford -- are leading in interracial action today. "If we've got one like Monsignor Belford," declared Justice Paige, "we ought to get rid of him." Justice Paige further declared that "if the Christians in America tried to act to the glory of God, and wanted us to have freedom of employment, we'd get it in six months."

A Pennsylvania woman lies near death at Kings County Hospital after she was shot and wounded by a friend in an Empire Boulevard drug store following her criticism of that friend's coffee. Mrs. Mary Nadler of Bentleyville, Pa. came to Brooklyn with her husband to attend the funeral of her father-in-law, and stayed with Mrs. Bertha Levine of 811 Avenue N. Mrs. Nadler was unsatisfied with the coffee served by Mrs. Levine, and went with her to the drugstore at 330 Empire Boulevard, where Mrs. Nadler declared that the coffee was better. Mrs. Levine declared "if I had a gun I'd shoot you." The druggist behind the counter, as a joke, reached under the counter and produced a .32 caliber pistol, for which he held a permit, and placed the gun before Mrs. Levine. Thinking the revolver a toy, Mrs. Levine picked it up and shot Mrs. Nadler. Police have deemed the shooting accidental, but druggist Max Rosenberg has lost his pistol permit.


("Awright now," says Joe, balancing Leonora on his hip as he inserts his card in the time clock. "See t'is heeh? See'f y'c'n push t'at downeah, an' y'll heeh t'bell ring." Leonora applies force to the handle, find the action stiff, but an assist from her father produces the desired result. "DING!" giggles Leonora. "Do it again!" "Nah," chuckles Joe. "Gotta wait'll ha'f pas' midnight t'do t'at, an' you'll be goin' home witcha ma long time befoeh t'at happn's!" "Cute kid," interjects Miss Kaplan, reaching past the two to punch her own card. "Guess'at means," she continues, "ya married, huh?" "Yeh," nods Joe. "Too bad," smirks Miss Kaplan. "Oh," replies Joe, shifting his daughter to his other hip, "I wouldn't say t'at.")

A $700,000,000 package of park and parkway projects to be implemented immediately after the war will provide a year's full-time employment for 100,000 returning servicemen, declared Parks Commissioner Robert Moses in an article appearing today in the December issue of American City magazine. The projects will include the widening of the Belt Parkway, the reclamation of a large section of Jamaica Bay for the construction of a recreation center, and the long-awaited completion of Flushing Meadow Park at the former World's Fair grounds. Many new playgrounds and recreation buildings will be created in neighborhoods thruout Brooklyn and Queens, including a new Oceanarium to be built at Coney Island.


("Ye know, Francis," chuckles Ma, "tharrr's sooomthin' t'be said farr 'bowlin' farr beauty." "Hmph," hmphs Uncle Frank. "Whoi," she continues, "t'laaast toime I saaahr Mister Fitzsimmons he said he could haaardly recognoize me." Uncle Frank peeks over the top of his newspaper and frowns. "Fat Freddie," he mumbles. "What?" "Noothin'.")

The Eagle Editorialist praises Willoughby Junior High School for its new Industrial Arts course, where mothers and grandmothers sit alongside the teenage girls learning to work with tools and shop equipment. "We have come a long way," muses the EE, "from the days when women over 40 were expected to wear a bonnet and sit quietly in a chimney corner."


(And not a one of those fathers is over 22.)

Sixteen railroads and terminal companies today defied Federal orders to cease discrimination against Negro empolyees, as required by the Railway Labor Act and as enforced by the President's Fair Employment Practice Committee. The carriers involved control the vast majority of rail traffic moving into the South. The companies cited declared that the Railway Labor Act has no constitutional authority to "dictate" to their employees.


(Smile, John! At least MacPhail's not your dad!)


("Warning -- Do Not Exceed Recommended Dosage.")


(Gotta watch out for those Local Bachelors.)


(Aw, that's old stuff.)


(Plumbing doesn't work, so what. You got a window.)


("What's that smell? Son, do you know what a 'cat spruce' is?")


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


And that's why some people just shouldn't have pistol permits.


At least the cat won't go hungry.


Got any submarines you want sunk?


Together again! It's a Christmas miracle!


See kids, this is why you order from a catalog.


Oh no, not whatshisface again!


Actually, while you've been arguing the enemy's already out of range.




I dunno, I bet the meat's pretty tough.


My cousin actually got a bladder infection from drinking too much soda, so don't mess around, kid.


Where The Tourists Meet The Sea

("Deanna Doibin get'na divoehce," muses Alice. "Whod'a t'ought? Woudln' t'ink she was t'type." "Y'don' hafteh be t'type," shrugs Sally. "Y'jus' gotta be married to a louse." "I'm glad I ain' gonna marry a louse," declares Alice. "Did I tellya Mame G's awrmos' got my dress done? It's gonna be beautyful. Misteh G seen me in it las' night an' said 'needs a belt inna back.' but I t'ink he was jokin'." "Sometimes I wisht I'd had a wedd'n dress," sighs Sally. "Be nice t'have sump'n t'pass awn t'Leonoreh when she grows up." "Awwww," aws Alice. "Y'know what I done t'ough," chuckles Sally, "when I quit Woolwoit's, t'unifawrm I was wearin' t'day we got married? I kep' t'at. I jus' put me coat awn oveh'rit, an' sashayed right out t' dooeh. I don't t'ink t'ey eveh know t'diff'nce. Got it hangin' inna clawset right now." "I guess Leonoreh c'd weah t'at when she gets married," shrugs Alice. "But what if she don' wanna woik at Woolwoit's?")

Joe Adonis, so-called king of the Brooklyn rackets, who has enjoyed comparative obscurity since the pre-election Costello-Tammany uproar, is back in the political limelight today, with scrappy Brooklyn Representative Donald O'Toole vowing that Adonis will not be allowed to make a comeback in borough political affairs. O'Toole, a Democrat representing the 9th Assembly District, declared in a letter sent broadside to members of the 9th A. D. Victory Club, that he "drove Adonis out of the district nine years ago," and now served "notice on the powers that be that the electorate and I will be happy to do so again." O'Toole's letter continued with a bitter attack on the current Tammany leadership in the district, and in particular current district Democratic leader Joseph J. Madden, under whose reign Democrats have become a minority party in the district. O'Toole further charged that Madden is in league with former district leader Thomas Wogan who was, during his time in office, actively supported by Adonis.

The inclusion of Prospect and Fort Greene Parks in Parks Commissioner Robert Moses' tally of recreational facilities currently serving the Bedford-Stuyvesant district was deemed "preposterous" by former State Attorney General Philip Jones, who demanded in a speech last night that Borough President John Cashmore be required to state for the record exactly where the boundaries of Bedford-Stuyvesant are drawn, especially with regard to the "crime wave" alleged in the presentment by the August Grand Jury. Jones, who is himself a Negro, further asserted in his remarks before the Good Neighbors Civic League, that the Grand Jury report exaggerated the number of "muggings" occuring in Bedford-Stuyvesant, by defining as such simple street brawls among "two or three Negroes who had just left a bar after havig one too many." George B. Wibecan of the Crispus Attucks Community Council agreed with Jones' remarks, noting that the corner of Myrtle Avenue and Summer Street, claimed in the presentment to be a "focal point of prostitution," is not in Bedford-Stuyvesant at all, and that the report further falsely claims that portions of Williamsburg and the Navy Yard district fall within the boundaries of the Bedford-Stuyvesant district. "It would," Wibecan declared, "be better first to establish the boundaries of the territory before trying to determine how much delinquency there is in it."


(No extra charge for pleats IN YOUR FACE.)


("Plenny'a chawrm!")

The black market in poultry cheated the state out of $7,500,000 in illegal and excessive prices in 1943, declared the chairman of the Legislative Committee on Nutrition today. State Senator Thomas C. Desmond alleged that no less than one fourth of all poultry sales at retail during the present year are in violation of OPA ceilings. The Senator made his charge in preparation for the opening tomorrow of a series of public hearings on the present black market situation to be held at the State Office Building, 50 Centre Street, in Manhattan. Mayor LaGuardia and regional OPA Director Daniel P. Wooley will be among those testifying.

A special screening of "The Desert Song" at the Brooklyn Academy of Music especially for the blind will test a new idea which could improve the experience of motion pictures for persons without sight. The special preview of the new Warner Brothers release will feature commentary describing the visual aspects of the production along with the regular dialogue and music. That commentary will be read from a script as the picture is shown, and if the experiment is successful, it is expected that special verisions of the film may be released with the commentary included on an extra soundtrack. Those attending the screening next Thursday night will also be given programs printed in Braille, identifying the actors and describing the plot.


(I wonder if Bobo has a whole rack of different uniforms? It'd make things a lot easier whenever he gets traded.)

Cardinals' ace Mort Cooper will find out today whether he has passed his Army physical. The big righthander, who went 22-8 during the 1943 season in helping to lead the Cards to the National League pennant, spent yesterday taking tests with 28 other selectees from his St. Louis draft board at the Jefferson Barracks. If he is accepted by the Army, Cooper will become the sixth Cardinal to be taken into the serivce since the Redbirds lost the World Series. He will be joining his batterymate and brother, catcher Walker Cooper, who is already in uniform.


(Ahhhhhh, nothing says Christmastime like a new Olsen and Johnson movie.)


(That's never a good sign.)




("Actually, I just bite them a lot, but I'm not telling HIM that.")


(Never mind the coat, you could get ten bucks for the nylons.)


("Aw c'mon, Ma, everybody knows there's no such thing as too much Christmas!")

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