Captain Billy's Whiz Bang, December 1921 · page 12 of 68
Captain Billy's Whiz Bang #28 — page 12: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains narrative text rather than cartoons—it's from "Captain Billy's Whiz Bang," a satirical magazine popular in the 1920s known for off-color humor and irreverent stories. The text describes two anecdotes: First, a farewell to "Gus" (Gustav), a down-on-his-luck worker who's been unemployed since leaving Minnesota and is literally "on the rocks" (broke). The narrator makes a tongue-in-cheek "gentleman's agreement" to only rehire him as an Indian guide at Breezy Point for no wages—only friendship and free flapjacks from the cook Maggie. Second, the narrator attended a stag party (men-only event) at a brewery honoring baseball teams, hosted by Bill Eltinge (a known theatrical performer/female impersonator of the era). Doc Stone managed ceremonies for "two hundred homeless and wifeless old stags" treated royally, though something "marred the entire evening." The humor reflects Depression-era attitudes toward unemployment, working-class life, and theatrical personalities.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
10 Captain Billy's Whiz Bang I'll say—Any port in a storm. His juniper juice created a tempest within me but I was glad nevertheless once again to shake the hoary hand of toil. In parting I slipped Gus a five simoleon note. He whispered that he was “on the rocks” and hadn't worked since he left Minnesota. We then and there entered into a gentleman's agreement that he never again would work for me unless his duties would be solely acting as Indian guide at Breezy Point at a wage of nothing—except the maternal or fraternal friendship of Maggie, our cook. Gus loves Maggie, I think, but better still, he loves her flapjacks. Adios to you, Gustav, and here's hoping I don't see you till the fishing season next spring. * * * JUST one more drop or so before turning off the tap. It happened to be my good luck to be invited by Bill Eltinge, better known in the theatrical world as Julian, to at- tend a stag party in honor of the Los Angeles and Vernon baseball teams at the Maier brew- ery in Los Angeles. Doc Stone was master of ceremonies and he treated us lonely two hun- dred homeless and wifeless old stags in a royal manner. From a purely personal standpoint there was but one action that marred the entire evening. After being entertained to a realistic view of the grand canyon and a wonderful dance performed by Slim Summerfield and