Captain Billy's Whiz Bang, December 1921 · page 8 of 68
Captain Billy's Whiz Bang #28 — page 8: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This is a satirical anecdote page from *Captain Billy's Whiz Bang*, a humor magazine. There are no cartoons visible—only text containing gossipy stories about entertainment-industry figures. The main joke targets **Rev. Wilbur F. Crafts**, a real reformer and anti-vice activist. The satire mocks his moralistic crusade against smoking by having him pompously denounce "cigar suckers," "cigarette suckers," and "pipe suckers" (using slang terms for users). A heckler—apparently a child with a lollipop ("all-day sucker")—interrupts with "Hey, Doc, you ain't going to forget us, are you?"—implying Crafts' rhetoric inadvertently condemns innocent candy-eating children. The joke exposes the reformer's overwrought moralism as absurd overreach. The second anecdote about Dick Ferris and the silk pajamas is lighter fluff—a playful story about an optimistic romantic. For modern readers: this reflects 1920s skepticism toward Prohibition-era moral reformers, portrayed as humorless busybodies.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
6 Captain Billy’s Whiz Bang for Kathrine MacDonald’s pictures; Ham Beall, another publicity director extraordinary; Bob Henderson, wealthy oil operator and owner of the most beautiful home I have ever spilled ashes in—these are only a few of the legion of good fellows with whom I had the pleasure of swapping stories at the Ferris chateau. * * * AND speaking of stories, I attended a Motion Picture Press Agents’ banquet and heard a good one on the reformers. According to the story, Rev. Wilbur F. Crafts was addressing an audience of the hoi poili and he started off bombastically like this: “You cigar suckers; you cigarette suckers; you pipe suckers—” At this juncture a tenor voice in the rear of the hall sung out: “Hey, Doc, you ain’t going to forget us, are you?” Evidently a willy boy with an all-day sucker in his hand. Getting back to Dick Ferris, the former Minneapolis theatrical magnate, is head of a big taxi concern and on the side is a “promoting fool.” Rummaging around in one of Dick’s dresser drawers, I ran across a box containing a pair of white silk pajamas. Inside was a card which, in feminine scrawl, informed Dick that they were to be worn when “Alone—and Feel-ing Blue.” Dick hasn’t been able to wear them—says he hasn’t felt blue since Mt. Lassen was a small hill.