The Era -- Day By Day

[LizzieMaine]

("When's she s'posta be home?" queries Joe, glancing at the electric clock behind the counter. "They said t'pick'arr'oop at noon," shrugs Ma. "Arrr it's anoothar day aaahn th' bill. Francis is s'poosta be takin' carr oov it." "He ain' bringin'eh inna truck, is 'e?" blanches Joe. "If'ee wants t' live t'see anoothar soonroise, he ain't," growls Ma. "Oi toold'im t'get a taxicab." "Ah," ahs Joe, marveling at the largesse. "Hey," he continues. "T'at guy was in'eeh t'ot'eh day. I know it ain' none'a my business, but.." "A blooody real estate agent!" snorts Ma. "Sooch croost! Sayin' soom man wants t' buy me buildin'." "Oh," gapes Joe. "Did'ee say who....?" "Oi doon't care if it was Doimond Jim Rockeefellaar hisself," snaps Ma. "Th' buildin' is not farr sale, at noo proice." "Did'ee say WHY'ee wan'ed it?" wonders Joe. "Oi don't give a fig whoy," dismisses Ma. "It's me buildin', an' it' ain't farr sale t'noobody at noo toime, period, fool stop! 'Specially not soom gombeen in a ten-dollar oovarcoat." Before Joe can reply, the converation is interrupted by the jangling of the telephone. "Lieb's,' answers Joe. "Huh? But Ma said you was gonna -- oh. Oh. Awright. Jus' sit tight. Whassanumbeh t'eh, I'll give ya -- lemme get a pencil -- yeh. BUckminsteh 4-9272. Awright. Gimme a minute an' I'll cawl ya back. Huh? Well, she's right'eeh. Awright, g'bye." Joe exhales and hangs up. "Whaaaar is'ee?" glares Ma. Joe chews his lip in hesitation. "Jooooseph...." glowers Ma. "G'rage up on Empieh Boulevawrd,' sighs Joe. "Don' worry, I'm gonna cawl'im a cab, t'ey'll pick'em up, everyt'ings gonna be awright." "So YOU say," growls Ma....)

("Helllllloooo, Frankie," coos Uncle Frank, sitting on an uncomfortable bench in the office at Mel's Garage. "Hellooooooooo," he continues, tickling the infant's chin. "He don' like t'at," huffs Bink. "Let'im go t' sleep, he won' squoim so much." "Well," interrupts Mel the garageman," wiping his hands on a grimy red shop rag. "Ya shot a piston rawd." "Is that ahhl," replies Uncle Frank. "Oi thaaat it was soomth'in serious. Well, goo ahead an' poot it roit an' we'll be onn ooor way." "Yeh, sueh," snickers Mel. "Lemme go right out back an' get a piston rawd f'ra 1924 Chevy." "Well, be aaaff with ye thin," exhorts Uncle Frank. "It's aahlmoost woon'a clock. Th' baby needs 'is rest." "Y'ra funny guy, y'know t'at?" snorts Mel, lighting a cigarette. "I gotta cawl out t' t' boneyawrd in Queens, see'f t'ey can pull sump'n awffa wreck. He ain' open t'day. He's r'ligious. Hafta wait'll Monday, t'en we gotta teah down t' engine, see'f'ya roont anyt'ing else inn'eh, see whatcha bearin's look like. Probl'y need a Babbitt jawb t'oppa evry'ting else. Gonna cawst ya moehr'na old bus is woit', but hey, yawr t' customeh..." "Oh," ohs Uncle Frank. "Well -- ahhh -- tell me, lad. Would a case a' good beer p'raps r'duce the..." "Two cases," insists Mel. "Poirate," grumbles Uncle Frank. "But Oi'll see what Oi can do." "Yeh," chuckles Mel, puffing a blue cloud. "Lissen, you got a ride home?" "Me soon in laaar is makin' arrangements. Waaar bringin' th' baby hoom froom th' hospital, y'see.." "Oh yeh," nods Mel. "Look," he adds, assuming a confidential tone, "ain' no business'a mine, but -- ah -- ain' she kinda young f' -- " "One case," growls Uncle Frank...)

("That reminds me, is it too late for 'Superman?'")

("I gotta han' it to ya, Sal," declares Alice. "You said it was gonna be hist'ry an' it was hist'ry awright! An' we was t'eh!" "Wisht we coulda SEEN it," sighs Sally. "Standin' room on'y, an' us inna back." "I could see awright," shrugs Alice. "Yawr a head talleh'r'n me," counters Sally. "I woulda letcha sit on me shouldehs," mutters Alice, "If y'd ast...")

(Those hamburgers are awful. Try a Big Joe's Special!)

(Oh, that makes all the difference.)

(Lena doesn't like cowboys. She doesn't like cowboys ONE BIT.)

("The gremlin can pay his own fare.")

(THE TERROR OF THE PARK)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

I've spent time on 57th Street, and I've never seen any thrift shop like that. Maybe I should ask Jane Arden.

History.

Don't ever go into marketing, kid.

This is what happens when you fall behind on your sacrifices to Molech.

It's gonna take a while to dig down six feet with that thing. Better get a spade.

Speculation is not a game for the timid.

Well, that'll certainly change the plans a bit.

I really wish it was Captain Blaze.

Someday, boy, all of this will catch up with you.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And also...

It's rare that the Daily News and the Daily Worker find themselves standing shoulder to shoulder, but we live in unusual times...

Gawblessya, P istol. There's nothing wrong with your legs.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Worker...

History.

 

[Fading Fast]

"ain' no business'a mine, but -- ah -- ain' she kinda young f' -- "

Freakin' perfect.

Oh, and Frank is going to have to answer to Ma about not telling the truth about getting a cab. And for God's sake, buy a new truck already. I'm almost tempted to buy him one. Ma ain't no poor women: she should buy it for herself in her name, make a big stink about it being her truck, and then of course let Frank use it and grumble to him about using her truck all the time.

*******************************************************

"I woulda letcha sit on me shouldehs," mutters Alice, "If y'd ast..."

And she would have. I'd have paid to have seen that.

*******************************************************

I really wish it was Captain Blaze.

Or it turns out Hu Shee is the adjunct ambassador in part based on her nationality. Hey, she was a stunt car driver; she obviously has skills at getting into jobs.

******************************************************

And yes to all your Robinson/history comments. It's been great to live this day somewhat in real time.

 

[Harp]

Pretty Ms Virginia La Verne entered after fact criminal conspiracy, committing perjury, and testified
favorably for Frank Lobaido, who kidnapped, ****d, and slashed the throat in attempted murder of
seven year old Rosalie Giganti; whom he made dispose of her presumed corpse. Ms La Verne is
in extreme jeopardy, and her love interest, Tony Lobaida is complicit plot. Due the heinous nature of this sordid
story, coupled conspiracy entrance, I frankly doubt Virginia will be simply excused perjury.

Gloria Stokowski is an interesting kid. She was married four years earlier, divorced, remarried with
$4,500,000 circa 1945 GeeWhizzez.... And, apparently her mother hasn't inherited marital estate, which
is rather odd; however, she has asked for trust allowance sole beneficiary statehood. Unfortunately, said
request publicly aired tinged mendacious accuse. I would advise Ms Stokowski to concede maternal
request and be done with it under strict non disclosure perpetual silence proviso. A stitch in time saves
nine, veritas, veritas et pax vobiscum mama.

Captain Judas was nailed by Dude Hennick's '03 Springfield ***** inside sixty yards probable distance,
a .30-06 round seemingly struck left iliac abdominal artery in the middle of nowheres. And our gal Burma
training a Lugar at the ******* for the presumable coup de grace left temple sendoff shot.
I miss Burms and her blonde brazenhood. She and the lad have a rendezvous with destiny.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("You gonna be oveh t' Ma's f' Easteh?" queries Sally. "I ain' hoid'eh say nut'na'bout'it, but I guess she's doin'a feed like awrways. Awlis stuff wit' Bink Scanlan an'na baby's got evr'ybody awl wound up. I wen'oveh t'eh las' night afteh woik, an' Ma was goin' up one side'a Uncle Frank an' down'a ot'eh 'bout sump'n t'do wit' that stupid truck. Nut'neveh changes." "I was t'inkin'," shrugs Alice, "I might take Willie t' choich. I run inteh Fawteh Kelleheh t'ot'eh night oveh t' Schriebstein's, an'nee said I oughta come." "T'ey awrways say t'at," frowns Sally. "Gotta keep t' plate full." "He ain' like t'at," insists Alice. "He's a pretty good guy. I mean, I ain' 'zackly in -- ahh -- y''know, runnin' away fr'm t'sistehs an' stuff -- I guess I ain' zackly in kosheh wit' t' choich, but Fawt'eh Kelleheh don' hol'at agains' me." "Ehh," ehs Sally. "I seen 'im aroun', I guess 'e's OK. Ain'no Bing Crawsby kin'a fawt'eh, but I guess 'e's OK. Me, I hadda nuffa choich when I was a kid. Ma useta make me an' Mickey go. Neveh wen' 'ehself, but we hadda go. Said it'd keep us outa trouble." "Oh," ohs Alice. "Whassat s'posta mean?" scowls Sally. "Nut'n," demurs Alice. "Jus' 'oh.'" "Ah," squints Sally. "Ahhh," agrees Alice...)

("Woooooo," exhales Rosa Capiello, as Bink displays her incision. "T'ey cutcha ya right open, din'ney?" "S
gonna leave'n awrful scawr," sighs Bink. "Gonna look like," snickers Rosa, "ya smilin'." "I ain' laughin," scowls Bink. "B'sides, if I laugh it hoits like hell. T'ey say it's gonna hoit woise wit' t' swellin' goin' down." "Ehhh," winces Rosa. "An'ney hadda do t'at, huh?" "Lookit'im," replies Bink. "Kid's gotta head like a bowlin' bawl." "He got Mickey's haieh," notes Rosa. "I neveh seen no baby wit'tat much haieh." "If 'e'da been inneh any longeh," sighs Bink, "he'da come out wit'a beehd." Rosa sits down next to the bed and ponders. "You give much t'ought," she ventures, "t'whatcha gonna do?" "I dunno," Bink admits. "T' ol' lady wants me t'stay heeh, an' she c'n help raise'im. But --- I dunno. I mean, look how HER kids toin't out." "T'at Sally ain' so bad," argues Rosa. "She runs'eh mout' a lot, but t'at don' mean anybody's gotta lissen." "I do'wann'im t'be like Mickey," declares Bink. "T'ez no need inna woil' f'rano'teh louse. But I dunno how to do nut'n but -- you know, what I use'ta do. How'm I gonna bring'im up?" "Seems like Sally's husban's got 'is head awn straight," offers Rosa. "Whyn'cha ask him?" "Hm," hms Bink. "I see whatcha mean bout t' kid t'ough," nods Rosa. "Head like a bowlin' bawl...")

("Oi'm tellin' ye, Francis," growls Ma, "yarrr a blooody fool if ye poot woon maaar penny inta that troock. Mooney ye spent aaahn it aaahlready ye coulda bought'chee a FLEET'a troocks!" "Oi'm attached to it," protests Uncle Frank. "That troock has seen me thru thick an' thin!" "Moostly thick," snorts Ma, flicking an eye toward her husband's bay window. "B'soides," continues Uncle Frank, ignoring the thrust, "ye joost can't FOIND a good troock right noo!" "Goo see that man they caaaahl th' Laughin' Oirishman," commands Ma. "Ohhhhhh noooooo," declares Uncle Frank. "Oi ain't gooin' anywharr NEAR that daaarty shaneen! He ain't havin' noo laugh on ME!" "It woon't be YOU he'll be laughin' at," sniffs Ma. "It's ye troock!")

(Not a week into the season and already playing exhibition games on off days? I bet they don't do that in Vera Cruz.)

(You do NOT mess around with IATSE.)

(You meet the nicest people hanging around boxing gyms.)

(All right, let's get this over with.)

("Did you pack the mink? I hear it gets cold on ranches.")

(A good detective never gives up.)

(It's nice to see an old timer like Chester Conklin still getting work.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

His Majesty is an ickie and a square.

"Track walkers and tomato pickers." Incidentally, Roosevelt Stadium, home of the Little Giants, has a listed capacity of 25,000. That's a lot of standing room for a crowd of 51,000.

"You do, and I'm going to tell her what YOU're up to in that back room!"

D I C K Tracy just can't resist.

Well, let's get it over with.

Field testing is an important part of any thorough maintenance program.

Don't you dare. They're still hard to get!

Former wrestling champ of the Third Ward.

Under par.

Yeah, we've still got nine weeks to go.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Worker...

"SPAM?" sputters Uncle Frank. "S'aaal Oi got," shrugs Shaughnessy the butcher. "Oi tell ye what, thoo -- ye stood it with clooves, ye poot aaaahn ye whiskey glaze, an' ye caaan't tell th' diff'rence." Uncle Frank falls silent as he considers the possibilities...

 

[Fading Fast]

"Seems like Sally's husban's got 'is head awn straight," offers Rosa. "Whyn'cha ask him?"

Excellent advice. He is looking (or Solly is looking for him) to branch out.

********************************************************

His Majesty is an ickie and a square.



********************************************************

Field testing is an important part of any thorough maintenance program.

Said every sports car mechanic ever.

 

[Harp]

Donovan struck and killed Corcoran, and, in cases involving arson, assault, ****, kidnapping, robbery,
resultant homicide is prosecutable as murder in the first degree under the Felony Murder Doctrine.

Uniform Code of Military Justice standard holds **** punishable by death. Sentence for **** is rope,
a firing squad death is considered above that crime pay grade. Excessive imprisonment for AWOL desertion
is subject appellate recourse mitigation. Collated under one uniform standard, the UCMJ administers necessary discipline to American/Alien wartime inductees and regulars alike.

Mrs Harcourt's husband Julien, ex paratrooper is obviously a Screaming Eagle. Such admirable personal
initiative, drive, and determination is only found in the 101st Airborne.
Eighty Deuce dogfaces can't cut the mustard all things holy and sacred.
A good soldier adjusts and adapts. Makes the terrain work to his advantage.

 

[LizzieMaine]

(At 503 Rogers Avenue, the Leary-Petrauskas-Krause-Scanlan clan gathers around Ma's table, gazing at an Easter miracle. "Whe'dja GET it?" marvels Sally. "I ain' seen one'at big in my LIFE," adds Alice. "Yeh," nods Krause. "Whooooooooooa," exhales Willie. "Hmph," hmphs Leonora. "Ya'd neveh know," declares Joe. "Ye goin' t' tell'm?" cajoles Ma. "Well," hesitates Uncle Frank, "it IS ham. An' shooldar meat, an' spoices, aaaaaartfoooly mixed an' prepaaaaared. An' thin OI -- ah -- took 'm oota th' cans, an' saaaarta caaaarved 'm t' shape an' stoock'm t'getharrr t'faaaarm a -- reasonable facsimile of an Eastaaaar ham." "Spam," eyerolls Ma. "SIX Spams," corrects Uncle Frank. "Enooof so IVVVRYwoon at this festive haaaaliday table moit eat tharr fill." "Ah," sighs Sally. "Oh," ohs Alice. "Eh," ehs Krause. "Eww," ews Willie. "HA!" has Leonora. "Mmm," mms Bink, digging in. "Anybody ain' gonna eat t'ez, shoot it 'eeh!" "Yee'l noot that th' boon, thar," adds Uncle Frank, "THAT is authentic. Shaughnessy threw it in as an Eastaarr present." "Free?" gapes Ma. "Well," hedges Uncle Frank, "farr haffa dollar...")

(In case you forgot.)

(When do World Series tickets go on sale??)

(Freaks? "ONE OF US! ONE OF US!")

(And it adds its own salt!)

(Plan ahead.)

(Hope they at least swept it out first.)

("Biceps?" His quads are pretty flabby though.)

("HA HA HA I"VE HAD GROMYKO ON HOLD FOR TWENTY MINUTES!")

(Guess who just saw "Mildred Pierce.")

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

Even little kids can be ickies and squares!

DIDJA MISS ME??

Oh, don't even start.

How convenient.

"Hubba Hubba Hubert?"

"Well, OK, but I'm not that easy."

"Do ye bring the bride price? Molech demands it!"

BOM-BIDDY-BOM!

Ten cents worth of pyrite flakes and you can have fun all week. And this gambling crackdown is getting out of hand.

Fish stories.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Worker...

History isn't one day, it's a procession.

 

[Fading Fast]

"Yee'l noot that th' boon, thar," adds Uncle Frank, "THAT is authentic. Shaughnessy threw it in as an Eastaarr present." "Free?" gapes Ma. "Well," hedges Uncle Frank, "farr haffa dollar..."

People are quite consistent.

********************************************************

It would be really neat if she got the same one when she made "Titanic" in '97.

*******************************************************

Even little kids can be ickies and squares!

"I could not take it anymore." One of the most honest lines ever delivered in a courtroom.

*******************************************************

DIDJA MISS ME??

Jinx on the radio seems to miss the point.

 

[Harp]

Leo Durocher wore brass knuckle gloves. A mean draft dodger brass knuckles *******.

Sally Deuber is a rather sensitive stripper. The bare facts naked truth. Cat calls and jeers are stock in trade
her learned profession....

 

[Harp]

********************************************************

View attachment 782642

It would be really neat if she got the same one when she made "Titanic" in '97.

*******************************************************

The ultimate chick flick.....
I know a gal who saw Titannic five times. Caught several YouTube clips, so gained some understanding
of the film's draw. Kate Winslet was absolutely gorgeous.

 

[Fading Fast]

The ultimate chick flick.....
I know a gal who saw Titannic five times. Caught several YouTube clips, so gained some understanding
of the film's draw. Kate Winslet was absolutely gorgeous.

I dislike "Titanic" not because it's an awful movie, but because it is a ridiculously over-rated one. I have no idea why it struck such a chord with people – women, in particular, as you noted – but I found it all but unwatchable and have failed to ever make it through a second time.

If you are a Kate Winslet fan, have you seen "The Reader?"

 

[Harp]

I dislike "Titanic" not because it's an awful movie, but because it is a ridiculously over-rated one. I have no idea why it struck such a chord with people – women, in particular, as you noted – but I found it all but unwatchable and have failed to ever make it through a second time.

If you are a Kate Winslet fan, have you seen "The Reader?"

Know of flick, but never read its book, so eschewed film. If Kate's in it, there's sufficient motive to return subject.

 

[Fading Fast]

Know of flick, but never read its book, so eschewed film. If Kate's in it, there's sufficient motive to return subject.

I'll note it again, if you like her/find her attractive, it's a movie you'll want to see. Plus, it's a good movie and a good book, but one where the movie pretty much equals the book.