Mongrel Pup Almost Dies Saving 16 Families in Fire
Jerry, mongrel collie, was overcome by smoke in a fish store at 210 E. 10th St., but not before he attracted the attention of a passerby.
When the ambulance arrived an intern gave the unconscious pup an injection and continued treatments until he regained his senses. Sixteen families made their escape from apartments above the store, due to Jerry’s warning.
John Lamanna, Jerry’s owner tenderly carries him off wrapped in a blanket. The intern said the dog would recover.
PM Daily, November 17, 1941, p. 18

Abandoned Baby Smiles in Crib at N.Y. Foundling Hospital…

Our police Headquarters man, an experienced photographer of the down and out, took this picture last week at the New York Foundling Hospital. “This one foundling,” he reported, “that really laughed for me without being tickled under the chin.” The baby had been abandoned by his mother in a rooming house at 309 W. 48th St. She paid $1 deposit on a room, put the baby in it and left, after telling the caretaker she was going to a bus station to pick up her bags. Early next morning the caretaker found the child, alone and crying, and turned him over to the police who promptly took him to the hospital. In our picture, taken 3 hours later, the infant is wearing under his hospital gown, the white undershirt and long, white stockings in which he was discovered. A bottle and a nap have restored his good humor. Attendants, remarking “what a pretty baby,” guess he was seven months old.”
PM Daily, November 15, 1942, p. 10

TRUE CRIME
In “Weegee: Murder Is My Business,” the InternationalCenterofPhotography focusses on the years between 1935 and 1946 in the career of the prolific New York photojournalist, who got tips from a portable police-band radio and used the trunk of his car as a darkroom—the faster to deliver his lurid pictures to newspapers. The exhibition includes a re-creation of Weegee’s apartment, and of the exhibitions of his own work that he organized at the Photo League. Opens Jan. 20.

The above quote is from The New Yorker’s art preview, and it can be seen here

Perhaps there was no darkroom in the trunk… perhaps it was more of an office and cabinet of curiosities…