Captain Billy's Whiz Bang, March 1921 · page 38 of 68
Captain Billy's Whiz Bang #18 — page 38: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page announces the April "Smokehouse Poetry" section, featuring classic frontier verse. The main content is Robert W. Service's "The Shooting of Dan McGrew"—a famous narrative poem about a mysterious stranger entering a Yukon saloon during a poker game involving the tough character "Dangerous Dan McGrew" and his love interest "Lou." The page also promotes "In Flanders Field" by Lieutenant-Colonel John McCray, famously written during WWI's Battle of Ypres—though the text incorrectly attributes the famous poem (actually by John McCrae) to McCray. These are literary excerpts rather than political cartoons. The appeal lies in frontier adventure and war poetry—popular "tough" subject matter for *Whiz Bang*'s male readership during the 1920s. Service's poem particularly resonated as rollicking entertainment about frontier masculinity and violence.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
36 Captain Billy's Whiz Bang Smokehouse Poetry Lasca, the rhythmic tale of a girl of the Rio Grande and the stampede pictured by Paul Desprez will lead the Smokehouse Poetry for April. With it also will be “In Flanders Field,” by Lieutenant-Colonel John McCray, which is being published after many requests. Colonel McCray’s simple song of tragedy was the Marsellaise of the great world war. The author was a surgeon with the Canadian Expe-ditionary forces and wrote the poem during the battle of Ypres. The Shooting of Dan McGrew By Robert W. Service. A bunch of the boys were whooping it up, in the Malemuke saloon, The Kid that tickled the music-box, was playing a jag-time tune; Back of the bar in a solo game, sat Dangerous Dan McGrew, While watching his luck was the light of his love, The Lady—that was known as Lou. When out of the night which was fifty below And into the din and the glare There stumbled a miner, fresh from the creeks, Dog-dirty, and loaded for bear. He looked like a man with one foot in the grave And scarcely the strength of a louse, As he tilted a poke of dust on the bar And called for the drinks for the house. There was none could place the stranger’s face, Though we searched ourselves for a clew; But we drank to his health, and the last to drink, Was Dangerous Dan McGrew.