Yesterday I had a small pretentious rhapsody about the men pouring out of the subway in the old days of bustling downtowns. Today, while "researching" a cartoonist for a Clippings entry (next October - no, October 2025) I came across one of his magazine illustrations:

1920.

When I’m doing rote work on the main computer, I’ll often have a true-crime show playing on the second monitor. Last night I was watching a retelling of an awful crime with which I was somewhat familiar - a young pregnant woman had her baby stolen by two pathetic, horrible people. It happened in Fargo. One of the detectives noted that he was surprised when he got the case, because he’d grown up just a few blocks from the apartment building where it happened. I glanced at the screen, and holy crow: me too.

The policeman went on to say that “the North Side is its own place” or words to that effect. It really was. There was the central part of Fargo that went ten blocks up Broadway, and then new post-war construction, mid-century ramblers and two/ three story apartment buildings of no architectural distinction whatsoever. The area couldn’t expand west, because of the University and the airport; it was hampered on the north by the water-waste treatment plant, which smelled. To the east, the river. Eventually some developments leapfrogged the stinky place.

When I was growing up, the area along the river was thickly wooded. You could bike out there and explore. There’s a lot to be said for living some place where you can find yourself out of the town with little effort. It smelled down there as well, but they were the smells of a slow-moving river and a humid summer forest. Fishy and mossy.

I hadn’t thought about the place in years. Now there’s a sidewalk. I’m sure every tree has been replaced, like cells of the body.

While I was on Street View for the old home town I decided to see if there were any reviews for the grocery story by my house. Google reviews always produce someone complaining about things.

I don't believe I'll be shopping here for that at this point though. Attached is a photo of a sales price. What does the sign say?

If you are like me, you read this as "2 dollars for 10 pizzas" an outrageous and amazing deal. Does this sound too good to be true? It is, it's actually supposed to be "$10 for 2 pizzas". I could not confirm this until I got to the cashier however.

The answer to the question “how thick does one have to be” is of course “this thick.”

Another interminable review of the food offerings, with four points. We enter the epic in medias res, at #3

The cheese curds were greasy and poorly cooked, whoever designed them doesn't understand that if the cheese breaks through the outer coat of batter, it will get soaked in grease. The french dip was too salty, the meat tough and hard to chew, and the sandwich too large to properly dip and take bites out of. This would bring my to my 4th complaint -

Response from the owner:

Ok, take a break - you are a conflict of interest.

Don’t you want to know what that means.

HOLD ON it’s the same person who complained about the pizza!

I want to know more. Not you have a conflict of interest, but you are a conflict of interest, a walking talking posting embodiment of the thing.

As noted, moving through all the Alfred Hitchcock presents. The actors are almost always familiar from other contexts.

The great Claude Raines, except it’s a ventriloquist-puppet plot. The worst. There seem to be so many, going back perhaps to Gabbo. They’re just not appealing to me. Is it real? Is he mad? Eh.

Anyway, there’s been a murder, and a young cop shows up to brace Claude.

You just don’t think that the star of Death Wish ever did something with the Invisible Man.

But The Invisible Man was only 23 years old at the time. It seems impossible, but it’s true. Man was 1933, and this was 1956.

And then there's this fellow, a Communist policeman working the train.

He knows sometink! Later the action shifts to the dining car . . .

Look who shows up. He excelled in playing smiling Commies without an ounce of human charm.

Nine years before Hogan's Heroes. Wonder if they talked about it.

It’s 1951.

For the 50s this year, we’re doing newspaper ads from the StarTribune. It’s a different look into the era, a time when a department store - remember those? - would take out an entire page to tout the deals on paper products.

I can’t find anything on the brand. If I had to guess, with a gun to my head, I’d say “why are you being so dramatic about a topic of such little consequence,” but also that it was a brand that was made by Big Pulp for sales in different retail channels, like department store.

Unbelievable gabardine:

Unbelievable gabardine:

Advance purchase made the price possible. The world, we learn, was facing a wool scarcity and hence “unpredictable wool prices.” I wonder why.

Well, let’s see . . . ah. Here’s Harold Wilson, future PM, in the House of Commons in 1951:

I want to turn now to one or two representative materials bought on private account, and I would start with wool, which, more than any other item, is causing deep concern because of its effect on the cost of living. The average price of wool is now something like 12½ times the 1934–38 average figure, and for the lowest qualities the price is about 15 times that average figure.

Immediately following Korea, the world scramble for wool began, and prices rocketed in world markets.

That echoes what I saw in an Australian paper - the Korean War was the proximate cause in 1950.

Donaldson’s had a big buy in this paper, touting all the post-war miracles: TVs and washing machines.

A nice serving tray, here.

Of course, it did nothing.

I love this topper, complete with Easter Rabbit bringing you the joy of the season.

They avoid "Hare it is!" or another March Hare reference. Disappointing.

Ah, the famous “Tele-Tone” quality. “Lightweight! Easy to pick up and carry as a book!” Something a marvel, when you think about it. From no TV in the house, in anyone’s house, to portable video-receiver mass information devices.

“Large Black Rectangular Tube for non-glare pictures!” One doesn’t necessarily follow from the other.

Tele-Tone was a private-label maker, and turned out electronics until the late 90s.

Gabberts, which would morph over the years into a high-end interior decorating / furnishings store, was selling TVs.

One key thing to note:

The rectangular tube was new. The old portholes were on the way out entirely, and woe to any Joe who popped for one of these a year or two before. Everyone thought he was a foremost fella when he called the boys ‘round to watch the fights, but now he was yesterday’s lettuce.

Unless he traded in, and you’d better believe he wanted to.

There’s a few pages of movies, and I’ve not heard of most of them.

Mr. Roberts, of course. Bonzo, yes. But the rest? No. Not unusual. We remember the hits, or at least remember being aware of them, but so many were forgotten, despite big star power. I did see “Cry Danger.” I did not see . . .

That’s remarkable. No footage seems to exist.

Wouldn’t you love to know what that was like.

That'll do! Let us continue with the story of Hollywood's Crime-Fighting Sweetheart, the Black Cat.