The Era -- Day By Day

[ChiTownScion]

Matrimonial and criminal law practice certainly appear dovetail specialties in the States.
And separating wheat out of the chaff wherein homicide and larceny are concerned a lucrative sub specialty.

I've done both: the latter for more than thirty years. As to the former? I prefer criminal clients as they're far more aware of the gravity of their situation. A guy facing 6 to 30 on an armed robbery charge generally is aware that his lawyer isn't a magician, and the best that he can hope for is that a really bad situation comes out not quite so bad.

Divorce clients (pre and post dissolution) often unrealistically believe that a judge can right all the wrongs of a marriage that failed. The worst is when kids are involved, and your client wants to use them in some misdirected pay back move. I refuse to go there, and the "you're my lawyer and I'm paying you" argument is always invoked, either directly or subliminally. Drawing that line in the sand is easy or difficult, depending upon the attorney's financial situation and commitment to principle. Best thing to do is to set the perimeters ab initio.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Whaaaat's this, then?" gapes Ma, as Uncle Frank thumps a large newspaper-wrapped bundle tied with greasy twine on her kitchen table. "Thaaat, Nora me dear," replies Uncle Frank, his ruddy features creased in a broad smile, "is tamarra's dinnar. Thaaat, Nora me dear, is a goose." "A goose!" blurts Ma. "Why, Oi hav'n't cooked a goose since I was far'teen years oold back on the faaarm!" "It's a goose," declares Uncle Frank,"aaar we eat at Haarn 'n Harrdart again. I have gone the width aaan' breadth a' this foine borough, an' I swarrr t'ye tharr's naat a turkey to be haaad. Not at any proice." 'It'll take aaahl day to cook it," marvels Ma. "Enooogh thar to feed us farr a week. Wharevar did ye find such a goose?" "Gowanus," states Uncle Frank, in a tone that does not invite further inquiry. "Who in Gowanus is sellin' geese?" queries Ma. "That'd wouldn't be Shaugnessy, would it? I thaat ye wasn't goin' to do no maar business with the loikes'a him aaafter that load a' bum haaaarsemeat he sold ye las' summar." "I didn't boi th' goose fr'm Shaughnessy," insists Uncle Frank. "I'd not buy a canary baard f'rm Shaughnessy." "Well," presses Ma, hands on hips, from who then?" "Oi said naatthin' aboout buyin' it," smiles Uncle Frank, patting his overcoat pocket. "You DIDN'T!" gapes Ma. "Ye moit find a bit of a tharty-two sloog in th' craw tharr when ye do the cleanin'," Uncle Frank warns, hanging his coat on the peg by the door. "I'd be obliged if ye'd save it farr me. Aaammunitiion's haard t'coom by.")

The Administration's campaign to continue food subsidies as a price control measure headed for the Senate today with the opposition confident of enough strength to give it the same thrashing it suffered yesterday in the House. Chairman Robert F. Wagner (D-NY) of the Senate Banking Committee said that hearings on the anti-subsidy bill will begin next Tuesday after passing 278-117 yesterday in the House. Wagner expressed the hope that Senate debate on the bill could begin by December 10th.

Only General George S. Patton's distinguished past military record saved him from dismissal from his post commanding the U. S. 7th Army in the wake of the scandal surrounding the revelation that he slapped a wounded Army private last August in Sicily. A high-ranking staff officer has confirmed that Patton's accomplisments during the Sicily campaign were all that kept him from being immediately cashiered on charges of conduct unbecoming an officer. Military sources indicate that whether Patton retains his present assignment depends entirely on public opinion in the United States. While the identity of the slapped soldier has not been officially revealed, but it has been acknowledged that Private Charles Herman Kuhl of Mishawaka, Indiana wrote a letter to his parents in August in which he described being "slapped, kicked, and cursed" by General Patton. In Washington, it appears likely that Congress will order an investigation of the incident after authorities within the War Department stated that military officials are "not inclined" to pursue the matter further unless there is a strong "public clamor" in favor of further disciplinary action against Patton.

Federal raiders closed down a "liquor cutting" plant in the home of a Coney Island couple yesterday, seizing three 65-gallon jugs of raw alcohol, a number of one-gallon jugs of illicit liquor, and all the equipment necessary for a "cutting" operation. Arrested by a squad made up of 70 Federal men and 30 police were Vincent and Jennie Luciano of 1458 W. 8th Street. Along with the items seized at the Luciano home, 36 gallon glass jugs of rye whiskey, two gallons of Scotch, and two gallons of gin were recovered from Luciano's car, all ready for delivery.

The bizarre activities of Gates Avenue Municipal Court Chief Clerk Harry Wolkof furnished another chapter for the Appelate Division today as his trial on 14 charges of misconduct resumed. Municipal Court Justice William T. McNulty testified this morning that Wolkof tried to use his influence to "dictate to the court" and "fix" cases, by, for example, threatening to take those cases to the Brooklyn Eagle. "You would not want it to be in the Eagle that you put people out of their homes," McNulty described Wolkof as saying to him in connection with his ruling in a recent eviction case.

Officials of the American Labor Party and Communist City Councilman Peter Cacchione today accused the Kings County Grand Jury of doing the work of Fascists by using "organized anti-Negro attacks as a method of real estate business and strategy for political power." Denouncing the recent Grand Jury presentment concerning crime conditions in the Bedford-Stuyvesant section, Cacchione spoke this morning at an emergency rally sponsored by the Brooklyn chapter of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People held in the heart of the Bedford-Stuyvesant neighborhood. Cacchione accused Sumner A. Sirtl, chairman of the Midtown Civic League and a spearhead of the present investigation of conditions in the section, of being one who has "headed the campaign against the Negro people for years -- but he will not succeed in bringing Fascism to Brooklyn." Meanwhile, in a letter to Mayor LaGuardia, leaders of the American Labor Party of Kings County characterized the Grand Jury presentment as "an incitement to racial antagonism" in the borough.

("I wondeh," ponders Alice, "what a Mayan T'anksgivin' dinneh would taste like. What's a Mayan, anyway." "Tey was people usta live in Mexico, an' down'neh," replies Sally. "We loin't about 'em in geography class at Erasmus. T'ey useta eat a lotta cawrn an'ney had toikey, an' a lotta stuff. T'ey usta have t'is one t'ing kinda like -- you eveh have a hot tamale?" "Whassat?" puzzles Alice. "Neveh hoid'v it." "It's like t'is spicy mashed up stuff made outa cawrn an' meat an' stuff, rolled up in a cawrn shuck," explains Sally. "I don't t'ink y'can get it aroun heeh, but I knew t'is gal t'at moved heeh f'm Califawrnyeh, says t'ey eat'm awlla time out t'eh." "I don't t'ink I'd go f't'at," dismisses Alice. "I got enough trouble wit' t'at chili Siddy likes. Butcha know, Mame G says she's gonna teach me cookin'. I'm gonna help 'eh make dinneh t'marra. She says she'll show me howta make whatcha cawl 'helzel.' Y'know what t'at is? T'at's whenya peel awff t'skin awffa t'toikey neck, an' ya stuff it wit' --- stuff, an'nen ya cook it. I ain'neveh had it yet, but she says it's swell." "Whattaya put in it?" queries Sally. "I dunno. I t'ink she said she's gonna crush up somea ya matza -- that's like a big crackeh, right, a big flat crackeh -- an' maybe chop up some'a t' gizzehd anna giblets f'm t'toikey an' awlat. She says y'c'n put in it whateveh ya got aroun'." "Huh," huhs Sally. "Kin'a like t'em koldunnys Joe likes t'make. Ain' it funny, awl kindsa diff'nt people, wit' diff'nt ways'a cookin', but it's awl kin'a t'same t'ing." "I won'neh," muses Alice, "if y'could put chili inna helzel. I bet Siddy'd like t'at." "I bet he would," grins Sally.)

(Didn't Robert Woolsey die five years ago? Or is this Walter Catlett?)

The Eagle Editorialist pronounces General Patton's slapping of a wounded Army private "deplorable," but argues that this shameful incident should not be taken as being typical of Army discipline. "The Patton case is a blow at the foundations of the trust American families have shown in the officers who command their sons in the ranks," states the EE, but asserts that "all observers with the American forces have agreed that our officers generally err -- if they err -- on the side of mildness."

(Isn't science wonderful?)

Heavy snowfall yesterday in milk-producing areas upstate and in New England will temporarily curtail the local milk supply, as Mayor LaGuardia today called on restaurants to cut down on milk consumption to ensure that sufficient supplies remain for children. Disruption of rail and truck transportation due to the storm -- described as the worst first-snowfall in many years -- is expected to cut the available supply of milk in the metropolitan area by about 20 percent until distribution can resume.

(Please don't let Fitz get mixed up in this mess. PLEASE DON'T.)

Disgraced former Phillies owner William Cox bade farewell to baseball last night on Stan Lomax's nightly broadcast over WOR, declaring that he stopped betting on baseball as soon as he found out it was against the rules. "I'll leave it to the public and my friends," decared Cox, "to decide whether I'm wrong or the rule is wrong in this case." Cox also offered words of praise for his "fighting, capable manager Freddie Fitzsimmons." Fitz himself, reached today at his Empire Boulevard bowling academy, expressed complete surprise at the scandal and could say only "I don't know where I stand, and there is nothing I can say." Fitzsimmons added that all he can hope for is that the new Phils' owner will contact him before the winter meetings convene next week. The longtime Dodger favorite has a contract to manage the Phils that runs thru July 1944.

("You'll stay for Thanksgiving won't you?")

("What? I was saving the recipe on the other side. Look here, '101 household uses for mothballs.'")

("Raaaaar! You'll find that I'm crusty but lovable! Raaaarrrr!")

(Is Preston Sturges writing this strip now? Where's William Demarest?)

(AMERICA'S NUMBER ONE HERO DOG is a preachy jerk.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

Doesn't sound very diplomatic to me. Or very economical.

That's that.

Yeah, Joszef. Run. The Partisans are waiting for you.

Tsk. It's rude to peek in other people's medicine cabinets.

DID YOU BRING ENOUGH FOR EVERYONE?

This is why you read the instructions first.

"Honest, it all just fell off a truck..."

"Besides, the last time you tried to plan my future -- well, EVERY time you tried to plan my future..."

"Happy Thanksgiving!"

C"mon, kid, let these poor old souls have a little happiness.

 

[LizzieMaine]

Oh, and...

Be sure and leave room for dessert!

 

[Fading Fast]

("Whaaaat's this, then?" gapes Ma, as Uncle Frank thumps a large newspaper-wrapped bundle tied with greasy twine on her kitchen table. "Thaaat, Nora me dear," replies Uncle Frank, his ruddy features creased in a broad smile, "is tamarra's dinnar. Thaaat, Nora me dear, is a goose." "A goose!" blurts Ma. "Why, Oi hav'n't cooked a goose since I was far'teen years oold back on the faaarm!" "It's a goose," declares Uncle Frank,"aaar we eat at Haarn 'n Harrdart again. I have gone the width aaan' breadth a' this foine borough, an' I swarrr t'ye tharr's naat a turkey to be haaad. Not at any proice." 'It'll take aaahl day to cook it," marvels Ma. "Enooogh thar to feed us farr a week. Wharevar did ye find such a goose?" "Gowanus," states Uncle Frank, in a tone that does not invite further inquiry. "Who in Gowanus is sellin' geese?" queries Ma. "That'd wouldn't be Shaugnessy, would it? I thaat ye wasn't goin' to do no maar business with the loikes'a him aaafter that load a' bum haaaarsemeat he sold ye las' summar." "I didn't boi th' goose fr'm Shaughnessy," insists Uncle Frank. "I'd not buy a canary baard f'rm Shaughnessy." "Well," presses Ma, hands on hips, from who then?" "Oi said naatthin' aboout buyin' it," smiles Uncle Frank, patting his overcoat pocket. "You DIDN'T!" gapes Ma. "Ye moit find a bit of a tharty-two sloog in th' craw tharr when ye do the cleanin'," Uncle Frank warns, hanging his coat on the peg by the door. "I'd be obliged if ye'd save it farr me. Aaammunitiion's haard t'coom by.")

Freakin' fantastic, Lizzie, a holiday classic.

In "The Gumps," isn't John bald, wasn't that a big part of the storyline when he was introduced, so how does he have hair now as I doubt soldiers wear toupees? Or, as is quite possible, did I lose the storyline along the way?

 

[LizzieMaine]

Unless Jon went to one of those hair-growing parlors that advertise in the sports pages of the News just before he went off in the service, he should indeed be bald. Maybe officers get the privilege of wearing hairpieces in combat until Eisenhower finds out, or maybe he used a really good glue to stick it on and it just won't come off....

May Uncle Frank never get caught running afoul -- or afowl -- of the Sullivan Law...

 

[FOXTROT LAMONT]

The Duke estate divorce raises salient question as to motive spousal stay and Reno domicile.
Had I sat solicitors criminal work in the Queen's Bench or crown commonwealth courts awaited.
The path not taken as Frost writ.

Hopeful Grett and the boys will pull through.

Also hope all had a fulfilling Thanksgiving and a start on Christmas yule shop visits.

 

[LizzieMaine]

It's Thanksgiving Day in 1943, and Mr. Schroth gives his staff the day off, so there's no Eagle to review. But upstairs at 503 Rogers Avenue, over Lieb's Candy Store, the smell of roast goose fills the apartment, as Joe and Sally and Leonora join Uncle Frank, Jimmy the Chest, Danny the Neck, and Ma Sweeney to enjoy a meal the likes of which they've not seen all year. "Lookit'at neck," marvels Joe. "Stella's gonna live f'ra week on'nat." "Y'shouldn' give a cat a neck," warns Sally. "I read it's got litt'l bones in it, c'n make 'eh sick." "Ahh," shrugs Joe. "Well, give it heeh, t'en, I ain' afraid'a no bones." As the gravy passes around the table, there's a knock at the door. "Ah," ahs Ma, as all eyes turn in her direction. "That'll be -- well, Oi invited two maaar guests. You'll see." She steps to the door to admit a young woman and a small boy, who regard the assembled group with great suspicion. "This is -- ah -- Miss Belasco, an' her little boy, William," explains Ma. "Oi've hired Miss Belasco t' do some waaark farr me in the store downstairs, aaaand Oi thaaht, seein' as we're aaahl togethar today, it'd be a chance to get t'know harrr. Miss Belasco, this is -- ah -- me -- ah -- friend Francis Leary, an' his boys James an' Daniel. An' there's me son-in-law Joseph Petrauskas -- an' me gran'daughter Leonora -- an' me daughter, Sally." All nod and murmur greetings. Miss Belasco steps forward, holding her son by the shoulders, and regards the group. "So," she frowns, glaring Sally directly in the eye. "Ya Mickey's sisteh, huh? I hoid aboutcha. Heeh, Willie, say h'lo t'ya aunt." "Yeh," smiles Sally uncomfortably. "Y'can cawl me 'Aunt Sally' if ya want." "Yeh," nods Miss Belasco, her scowl accusing the room. "Yeh, he can'," she continues. "Afteh awl, he's ya brut'eh's kid." There is a long, painful silence, puncutred only by the sound of a fork clattering to the linoleum floor, as Ma considers her next words, reddens, and sputters out only an "Ah."

And meanwhile, in the Daily News...

"Spicy Detective," though, you can forget about that.

And meanwhile, in the Ginsburg apartment at 1720 63rd Street, Mr. and Mrs. Ginsburg, Alice Dooley, and Krause the Super gather around roast chicken with all the fixings. "T'at's pretty good, ain' it," enthuses Alice. "T'at helzel -- y'know, I made t'at. It's pretty good, huh? Ain' it?" "A fine job you did, a very fine job," assures Mrs. G." "It's good," nods Mr. Ginsburg, as his wife flicks him a meaningful glance. "It's very good." "Yeh," agrees Krause, as Alice beams with satisfaction.

"Junior Commandos? You mean we have to quarter troops here? Isn't that unconstitutional?"

In Stalag 7A, Moosburg, Germany, Private Michael Sweeney lies in his bunk and wonders if his mother figured out what he was trying to tell her.

Seriously, though, what kind of doctor needs a pint can of chloroform? Somebody ask to see his license.

And just like that, Lillums became a numbers runner.

Sure, leave it to the comedy relief.

And somewhere in Italy, Private Solomon Pincus eyes his C-Ration dinner, and wonders what Joe and Sally are having this year...

Kid, after the war, you got a future in radio.

THINK ABOUT SOMEBODY ELSE FOR A CHANGE WHY DON'T YOU.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And also...

Wellllllllllllllll now, WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THAT. No wonder he was so ready to get rid of Harris. PLEASE DON'T DRAG FITZ INTO IT. PLEASE DON'T.

And finally...

War truly is hell.

 

[Fading Fast]

Just so that everyone knows what all the fuss is about, here are a couple of Varga girls:

 

[LizzieMaine]

"Huh," huhs Sally. "I wondeh if she c'n play t'oid base?"

 

[FOXTROT LAMONT]

Just so that everyone knows what all the fuss is about, here are a couple of Varga girls:

View attachment 563719

John Payne calls Ms Rhonda Fleming, seductively lying in bed, wearing diaphanous lingerie, receiver in hand.
Vargas and certain film directors understood sensual imagery-Mr Caniff our friend certainly did.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Whatta night," sighs Sally as the train bumps out of Hudson Terminal. "T'at's awl I c'n say. Whatta night. T' T"INK of Mickey havin' a KID an' not tellin' non'navus about it. F' FIVE YEEHS. A KID." "It ain'nat hawrd t'b'live," sighs Alice, her eyes tilting upward. "Whassat s'post'a mean?" frowns Sally. "Look, I know Mickey, awright? We -- woiked t'gett'a," explains Alice. "We -- you know, WENT t'getta, if ya get me meanin'. An' -- well, Mickey was whatcha cawl -- whassawoid? Impetigous?" "Impetuous," grumbles Sally. "Yeh," yehs Alice. "T'at's it. Impetuous. T'at's Mickey awl oveh." "I can't say as I blame 'eh f'bein' soeh about it, I guess. An'nat kid, migawd," sighs Sally. "Didja SEE how he acted? Set t'eh suckin' on'nis fingehs awl night, an' when Ma gives him a plate a' food, he won't sit at t'table wit' t' rest'vus, he runs awf inna corneh, like a dawg wit' a bone." "He's scaiet," observes Alice. "I remembeh when I was inna home, y'know, t' awrf'nage, t'eh was kids like t'at. T"ey was scaiet t'ot'eh kids was gonna take t'food away f'm 'em, an'ney'd run awf'n hide. An'nen if t'sistehs caught 'em -- an' -- you know -- beat 'em fawr it -- t'ey be ev'n moeh scaiet. T'pooeh kid." "You t'ink she --?" begins Sally before choosing not to continue with that thought. Alice shrugs. "It ain' like wit' you an' Joe an' Leonoreh," she continues. "Leonoreh's got two parents t'at love'eh, an' a gran'ma, an' a -- well, a uncle -- an' awl. Lotta kids inna woil' ain'nat lucky." The train rumbles on with no further conversation until Sally breaks the silence. "Whatta we gonna do?" she sighs. "Joe's about t'get drafted. Mickey's awf in a prison camp. Ma's been, you know, sick. Uncle Frank, well, you know, it's his busy time 'a yeeh wit' foinaces an' awl. An' I'm woikin six days a week. An'now T'IS." "Yeh," acknowledges Alice. "An'neeh I am, about t'get married..." "It's been quite a yeeh," exhales Sally. "Yeh," nods Alice. "Quite a yeeh.")

A Senate investigation into the face-slapping episode involving Lt. Gen. George S. Patton marked time today, pending a full report by Gen. Dwight D. Eisenhower, Patton's superior officer, to Secretary of War Henry L. Stimson. The Senate Military Affairs Committee, now considering Patton's promotion from his prewar rank of Colonel to the permanent rank of Major General, has asked the War Department for a complete report on the incident, and Secretary Stimson indicated that he is waiting for a full report on all the facts from Gen. Eisenhower. Stimson made it plain at his Thanksgiving Day press conference yesterday that he is "satisifed" with Gen. Eisenhower's handling of the incident, and that he considers the case closed.

("Hmph," hmphs Ma. "Policy. Lottery. 'Et cetera.' I tell ye Francis, soomethin's gaat to be doon about these amateurs. Tharr' caalin' too mooch attention.." But with a raised finger, Uncle Frank conveys a shoosh, as Marie Belasco enters from the back room. "Quite a layout ya got t'eh," declares Marie. "Mickey tol' me awla bout'cha setup heeh. Who runs ya machines, Costella?" "Saarrtainly not," huffs Ma. "The very ideaar." "An' you, Unkie," chuckles Marie. "I see by t'papehs t'es a lotta demand t'ese days f'ya line a' woik, ain'it?" Uncle Frank sips his two cents plain with a scowl, but makes no response. He glances out the window, to see Joe and Leonora crossing Rogers Avenue, and tips Ma the wink. "Why don'che go upstarrs now an' check on William," directs Ma with a forced smile. "Yeh, sueh," smirks Marie. "Do'worry, Gran'ma, ya secrets is safe wit' me. I won' say nut'n t' Chucklehead t'eh." Snickering, Marie heads up the back stairs, as Ma and Uncle Frank exchange a meaningful look.)

With festivities dampened by the spectre of war, Brooklyn observed its second wartime Thanksgiving yesterday more somberly than in the past, with fervent prayers that next year's celebration will be a peacetime one. Most of the turkey supply was alloted to the Armed Services, who enjoyed the bird on farflung battlefronts, and most civilians made do with chicken, ham, or lamb in a non-complaining spirit. Many had their annual feast in restaurants, where the traditional turkey seemed plentiful. MIld temperatures brought unexpected holiday crowds to Coney Island and Rockaway Beach, but in accord with the "homey" tradition of the holiday, the motion-picture theatres did not report the usual holiday rush, and attendance at legitimate theatres was also slightly off. In Times Square, crowds did not approach the usual holiday size.

(Guess it's a little late for "Mother Finds A Body..")

Nelson Eddy, Claude Rains, and Susanna Foster in "Phantom of the Opera" is the new attraction at Loew's Metropolitan. Universal's Technicolor remake of the old Lon Chaney classic is featured on a bill with "The Strange Death of Adolf Hitler."

As the draft of pre-Pearl Harbor fathers prepares to take its toll on Brooklyn families, familes are invited to turn their worries over to the professional worriers at the Brooklyn Bureau of Charities. Any member of a prospective service man's family may apply for advice on what to do when a father is taken, by telephoning any of the several neighborhood offices around the borough. The main office downtown, at 285 Schermerhorn Street, 7th Floor, may be reached at TRiangle 5-0710.

("Yeah, Ma, the last lady that said 'let them eat cake,' she didn't end up so good..")

A bill that would pay $100 to $300 in mustering-out money to every serviceman honorably discharged from the Armed Forces has been introduced by the chairman of the House Military Affairs Committee as the Administration's first step toward a postwar plan for returning veterans. Rep. Andrew J. May (D-Kentucky) indicated that his bill would provide the payments to all men below the rank of Captain upon their discharge, with the amount given to be determined by the duration of time spent in uniform since December 7, 1941. The bill is one of several provisions sought by President Roosevelt in his recent message to Congress, along with a program to provide unemployment payments to returned servicemen who do not immediately secure civilian jobs.

(0-and-10? Why don't they just trade the whole team??)

WIth the baseball Winter Meetings due to begin on Wednesday, Branch Rickey is due back at his Montague Street desk today after a hunting trip to Oklahoma. Yankee general manager Ed Barrow is reported out of the hospital following his recent illness, but it is unclear if he will be well enough to attend the Wednesday sessions. Giants manager Mel Ott is due back in town this weekend as the first of the metropolitan field bosses to grace us with his presence for the winter proceedings.

The release of the Major League reserve player lists from the office of Commissioner K. M. Landis reveals that the Dodgers have 31 men on their active major league roster, with 21 on the military reserve list, among them Pete Reiser, Pee Wee Reese, Cookie Lavagetto, Hugh Casey, Kirby Higbe, ond many other names you know.

While Branch Rickey has yet to follow the example of Leo Durocher in gagging it up with radio comedians the Dodger prexy will appear in a more dignified radio role on Sunday night, when he appears as a guest mediator on A. L. Alexander's Mediation Board over WOR.

(I mean, seriously.)

(It's interesting to see Jimmy Gleason trying out the comics, but this really isn't his type of role...)

("Oh Mr. Stun, you're so funny when you try to be serious.")

("Hello sailor!" C'mon, Scarlet, say it like you mean it.)

("What?" (CHOMP CHOMP) "I put the poor thing out of its misery!")

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News,

And in the basement of 1720 63rd Street, Krause the Super takes a bite of a sliced helzel sandwich, warmed to a turn on top of the boiler, and gives the grates a satisfied shake.

"Keep 'em Slicin'!"

Keep arguing about it and you'll work it out in a prison camp.

"Just stuff we picked up. Where? Oh, around..."

"Want me to hit you again? I probably should hit you again!"

War Is Heck.

You wanted to be a pilot, kid.

EVERYBODY misses Harold.

Aren't you cold?

 

[LizzieMaine]

Oh, and...

Ho ho ho.

 

[Fading Fast]

"Leonoreh's got two parents t'at love'eh, an' a gran'ma, an' a -- well, an uncle -- an' awl. Lotta kids inna woil' ain'nat lucky." Alice speaks from experience.

Caniff captured that incredible gut-wrenching moment, one that played out many, many times, in many, many ways in WWII, with perfect imagery and dialogue. He's still #1.

 

[FOXTROT LAMONT]

I sensed this scene inevitable conclusion with engine smoke billowing days ago.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Lissen, baby," purrs Hops Gaffney, leaning insolently on the counter as Marie Belasco smirks back at him. "How 'bout you an' me..." "Finished ye waark farr the day, have ye Mistarr Gaffney?" interrupts Ma, entering from the back room. "Yes'm," Hops mumbles, his insolence vanishing. "I give 'eh t'bag, an'..." "Then be aaaahf with ye," commands Ma, her arms folded. "Yes'm," grovels Hops, touching the brim of his hat and hastening for the door. "Be clear a' that one," directs Ma, turning her attention to Miss Belasco. "He's hearr t'do his jaaahb, an' noothin' maaar." "Aw," protests Miss Belasco. "He's kin'a cute." "Ye'll soon larrn ootherwise, ye keep messin' with the loikes a'him," warns Ma. "Now, I wanna talk t'ye aboot the boy, aboot young William. He's five yarrrs old, is he not. "Yeh," nods Miss Belasco., with little evident interest in the coversation. "Then why," queries Ma, "is he naaat enrooled in school?" "Ahhhh, I dunno," shrugs Miss Belasco. "T'lawr don't say he's gotta go till he's six, so I didn' figyeh..." "We'll take him roit down on Monday, an soin him oop at P. S. 92. They haaave the kindergaaarten tharr, and it'll be good farr him. Booth me children went to P. S. 92, an' it doon'm a warrrld'a good." "Lotta good it did Mickey," scoffs Miss Belasco. "Oi freely admit Oi made me mistakes raisin' Michael," concedes Ma. "An' ye should larrrn from th'm with ye own boy. Now, look at me daaaghtar, now, tharr's the results of a good education," "Oh yeh,' snorts Miss Belasco. "Princess Erasmus. Yeh. She done good. A bohunk an' a baby, ain'nat jus' a pitcheh pos'cawrd." "Jospeh," declares Ma in a stern voice, "is a good man. I'll be hearrin' noothin' against Joseph. He's aaahlways doon right by me Sally. An' it moit intarest ye t'know that me little granddaaghter there is ahhlready larrnin' to read. Two yeaaars oold! An' she's larrnin' to read. That one will goo places, mark me waards." "Ain'nat swell," snickers Miss Belasco. "See that the boy is ready when ye bring him in Monday marrnin,'" commands Ma. "Yeh," nods Miss Belasco. "Whateveh." She turns her attention to a slip of paper in her hand. "Whaat's that," demands Ma. "Haand it ovarr." Miss Belasco hesitates, but something in Ma's gaze induces her to hand over the slip, which Ma opens to reveal a scrawled telephone number. "Gaffney give ye this?" "Yeh," nods Miss Belasco. "What's it to ya?" Ma glares, crumples the slip, and stuffs it in her apron pocket. "You just see to ye waaark," she orders. "Give me the bag." Miss Belasco shoves the bag across the counter, and with a surly glare watches Ma ascend the back stairs.)

Board of Education officials are today preparing for a strike by a custodial workers' union which threatens to tie up the entire school system. The United Construction Workers Union, affiliated with District 50 of the United Mine Workers, has set the walkout for Wednesday, with the strike affecting some 2300 of 3000 elementary and high school custodial workers. Final orders concerning the strike will be given, union officials stated, at a meeting scheduled for tomorrow afternoon at the Irving Plaza Hall in Manhattan. At the same time, two AFL unions with which Mayor LaGuardia has entered into negotiations for a new custodial contract, have agreed to provide replacement workers for men leaving their posts. Meanwhile, the situation is complicated by an impending lawsuit in Kings County Superior Court, attacking the system under which custodial workers are hired and paid on an individual basis by custodians. The suit calls for all custodial workers to be placed under the Civil Service system.

("The Neighbors," Soviet edition.)

("Hmph!" hmphs Sally. "Hmph!" agrees Alice.)

("Some of them, mind you, even voted for -- you know who!")

("Thank you, sir," nods Fitz. "But -- look, I'm really not all that fat, OK?")

Amos 'n' Andy appear to have started a trend by giving up their nightly fifteen-minute program in favor of a weekly half hour. Following their example next week, the Easy Aces will forfeit their three-times-a-week quarter hour serial in favor of a new half-hour spot on WABC. The new program for Goodman and Jane Ace, veteran comedy team, begins on Wednesday.

(Ah, it's so good to have them back.)

(Ah, small town drama. Wheels within wheels.)

(Speaking of old married couples...)

(It's a wonder we haven't lost the war.)

(PAY ATTENTION KIDS THERE'S A MORAL LESSON HERE.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

Rep. Rankin is possibly the single most morally bankrupt individual ever to serve in Congress, and that's saying something. Mr. Willkie exercises perhaps an excess of kindness and restraint in his response.

The exigencies of war.

Meanwhile, the Sad Sack there just goes out and sets off the bomb.

Kid's still got a lot to learn.

"What, no cigarette lighter?"

"You SURE you don't want me to hit you again?"

"Oh, and if anybody asks about a missing horse, he probably just ran off..."

"Well, as long as he doesn't talk to any weird French spies!"

Nobody in 1943 really wants to be married.

Um...

 

[Fading Fast]

Still chuckling to myself about Uncle Frank shooting the Thanksgiving goose with a handgun; it's such a city mobster move.