Captain Billy's Whiz Bang, October 1921 · page 23 of 68
Captain Billy's Whiz Bang #25 — page 23: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This is satirical social commentary, not a cartoon. The author describes visiting an exclusive Palm Beach, Florida gambling club called the "Beach" Club (sarcastically nicknamed the "White House"). The satire targets wealthy elite hypocrisy: the club strictly enforces dress codes (rejecting him for lacking evening wear) yet openly violates state gambling laws. The author witnesses "old satyrs" and morally compromised women being admitted despite breaking rules, while he—dressed improperly—is rejected. He mocks the idle, frivolous daily routines of Palm Beach's wealthy residents (sun-tanning, shopping, cocktails, flirting) while questioning why law enforcement ignores the club's blatant lawbreaking. The core complaint: the wealthy operate above the law while ordinary people face prosecution. The piece exemplifies *Whiz Bang*'s working-class, anti-establishment perspective from the 1920s.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Captain Billy's Whiz Bang 21 flunkey with an expression of “Thus far shalt thou go and go further.” He informed me I couldn’t enter without being in evening dress. Since I was like the man in the Scripture, with- out the wedding garment, I was cast out. Nev- ertheless, at the door I saw two old satyrs tak- ing a chance with two powdered, painted dames, who in life’s game had lost everything worth having. One of the girls was tipsy. They made some fly remarks and were welcomed in. This “Beach” Club is a place of financial and moral wrecks. It is openly run in defiance of the Florida state law against gambling. There is not a law of man or God that it does not break, except the one that unless you wear a tuxedo or Prince Albert you cannot enter. Here hearts, heads and bank accounts are broken. Fabulous amounts exchange hands among the players. If you are just a looker-on you pay for the privilege—a dollar for a glass of water or ten dollars a plate for a light luncheon. Question: Why does the government pinch the little gamblers and permit this “White House” to be a black palace of ruin and despair? There is some excuse for the routine of an insane asylum but none for the silly Palm Beach daily program. Here it is: Yawns, idle- ness, ennui and indigestion; dressing for beach and undressing for dinner; sun-tan of the “Browning Club” and tonic baths; whisking around in an invalid wheel chair in company of dudes and pug-dogs; driveling talk of clothes and looks; drinking pink tea or cocktails; read- ing the latest trash; spooning, dancing, flirt-