The following means nothing, but what better way to start a week than with something completely without any connection to our Fractious and Unprecedented Times?
I was resizing some pictures from Chain Store Age magazine, and I suppose I should say “as one does,” since that’s what people say to make their curious activity stand out a bit more and preen at how interesting they are, while being self-distancing and ironic. I have six more issues to post, but that’s for another day. I think I was trying everyone’s patience with that site anyway, since the number of people who are fascinated by industry ads for the managers of drug stores and in-store restaurants may not be that great.
AND THAT’S TOO BAD, because it’s an interesting time, and these are interesting documents. Anyway. I came across a shot of the Katz drug chain’s new store. It’s big, and a bit too spare for my tastes, but it’s very 1962.
New readers, if there are any, are excused from the competition. (Note: there is no competition.) Now, if you want to argue about this right away, here’s the link to go down to the comments. I’m not going to drag this out and reveal my answer tomorrow, because by then someone will probably have figured out exactly what caught my eye. But I will provide some space.
Yes, it was this.
And yes . . . we know what it is.
How? How in heaven’s name did I figure out that? Pshaw; t’warn’t nuthin.
I’m sorry, what?
I said "Pshaw; t’warn’t nuthin."
That’s not right. Pshaw does not go with t’warn’t. I think you mean Shucks, t’warn’t nuthin. Otherwise it’s like Shucks, t’was but a trifle. It’s a clumsy mixture of class-based vernacular.
Okay okay. Well, it was quite easy. Blow it up, and you get this:
So you have . . . the Tin Woodman? Looks like it. But you can make out a word and shape. EG? Or am I seeing "egg" because there's an ovoid shape in the middle of the top?
When you plug egg + pinball into Google, up pops a page about the machine.
(Picture from the video below.)
Pinball people are fanatical about the history of these machines. They also tend to be a bit banal, talking about technical things, and usually have a video where we see what it’s like to play the machine. The play is usually overwhelming with lots of drains. The people who play the tables seem a bit tired of it, as if all the fun was in the rehabilitation. Perhaps it was, and that's fine.
Anyway, from the Katz drug store picture from 1961, to this. The internet is a marvelous thing, isn’t it?
Where do her adventures take us this movie? It's sure to be great; it's been at least eight months since the last one hit the theaters. 0
Again, not a review - just a look at the way things looked in the Forties.
We assume this will be explained.
War’s still on, I presume:
She’s still working in a defense plant. And the wolves are still in force.
All in a day's work, dealing with these guys.
Back on the floor, she meets the new boss.
Doesn't go well. Nothing's going well! Maisie's nervous and twitchy, upset about something - and she doesn’t know what. She sees the doc, who thinks it’s overwork, since she’s had 16 months worth without a break and 12-hour days. Nonsense, she says: there’s a war on!
The doc prescribes . . . fun!
It’s an all-girl band.
So she’s off to Reno for some R&R, which of course was standard procedure for defense-plant workers.
After she finagles a ticket Maisie style, she runs into a soldier who wants her to take a letter to his wife, who wants to divorce him. Because she’s misinformed about things!
Eventually we meet the wife:
There’s something off about her and the whole scene.
That’s because she’s pretending to be the wife.
The real wife:
Lana Turner. Whew
Meanwhile, Maisie is getting interested in John Hodiak:
Interesting note for the times: he makes a move, and she has to know whether he’s married, or a draft dodger. She’s not going to kiss a man who hasn’t answered the call.
I was interested in Reno locations, but there aren’t any. There’s shots of what the people were expected to believe a Reno hotel hallway looked like: