Captain Billy's Whiz Bang, January 1922 · page 10 of 68
Captain Billy's Whiz Bang #29 — page 10: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page from *Captain Billy's Whiz Bang* (a 1920s satirical magazine) contains no cartoon—it's prose narrative describing a trip to Tijuana during Prohibition. The humor targets: 1. **Prohibition evasion**: The narrator, a "thirsty Minnesota farmer," seeks alcohol in San Diego and California but finds only poor substitutes ("sympathy gin"). Tijuana becomes the solution—just an hour away. 2. **"Soaks"** (drinkers) and references to quality liquors like "Scotch" and "Haig and Haig" mock those desperate for forbidden drinks. 3. **Nostalgia for vice districts**: The narrator compares Tijuana to defunct red-light and gambling areas in Omaha, Duluth, and San Francisco—implying these were once thriving establishments. 4. **Ironic frustration**: Even in vice-friendly Tijuana, gambling is temporarily banned by the Mexican government, thwarting the narrator's final temptation. The satire ridicules Prohibition's ineffectiveness and Americans' determined pursuit of illegal pleasures across borders.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
8 Captain Billy's Whiz Bang NOW, Fellow Soaks, we'll touch a few high spots in this grand and glorious continent as we ramble about with wry faces in pursuit of the elusive Scotch and Bubbon. San Diego and its fashionable suburb, Coronado, were tough spots for a thirsty Minnesota farmer. Nothing but a concoction commonly called “sympathy” gin to be had by a meek and lowly stranger. But, glory be to Mexico, Tiajuana with its old time western bar-rooms and music halls, is but an hour away. We spent one grand and glorious afternoon and evening in this unique village. It reminded me of slumming expeditions of a quarter century ago. Visions of Omaha's famous Arcade at Capitol Avenue and Ninth Street, and of Duluth's “Minnesota Point” in its palmy days, not to mention the cribs of Dupont Street in Frisco, went flitting through my frappe'd brain. In one solace of joy we sat at a table for Haig and Haig “service,” said service being delivered by jaded janes who divided their time between waiting on customers and jazz dancing to the tinny tunes of a tin pan orchestra. It was a wild place and a wild night. Later we dined at the Sunset Inn. The inn was flanked by rooms filled with scores of roulette wheels and faro tables. My sporting blood surged hither and thither but to no avail, for the Mexican government had placed a temporary ban on this style of gambling.