Captain Billy's Whiz Bang, May 1922 · page 39 of 68
Captain Billy's Whiz Bang #33 — page 39: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains no cartoon or satire—it's a sentimental prose narrative from *Captain Billy's Whiz Bang*, a humor magazine. The text describes a visit to an elderly, impoverished mother caring for her adult son, who is disabled from an accident and dependent on her. The narrative traces her life's arc from youth through sacrifice, emphasizing her selfless, unrewarded maternal love despite poverty and grief. The piece celebrates traditional maternal devotion—a common sentimental theme in early 20th-century popular literature. *Whiz Bang* was known for mixing crude humor with earnest sentiment. This passage represents the magazine's earnest side, appealing to readers' emotions about family duty and maternal sacrifice rather than offering satire or political commentary.
📄 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 37 SHE moaned and tossed on the bed as I en- tered the room. Tired and sick she looked at me with her deep dark eyes and said, “If my boy could only take care of himself I’d be glad to have the good Lord take me home.” And who was her boy? A man grown old, lying on a cot and through accident almost as helpless as when a baby she cradled him in her arms and sang him to sleep. Once she had been a sweet dimpled baby; a pretty, petted child; a bright-eyed school girl; a woman with a heart filled with whispers of love; a sweetheart with sunshine in her face and speech; a wife with duty, affection and hope-dream of the future; a mother with love, prayer and help for the little life that came to her; a widow with sorrow like frost on flowers; now old, poor and alone, the hand skinny, the eye filled with life’s ashes, her lips speaking of buried joys, and her feet weary of the long journey, whose milestones were dead hopes and friends. While I sat in that dingy little room it sud- denly grew large and beautiful and I thought of her mother’s love. Pure love: Life’s sun had almost set, and the shadows were lengthening on the graves of her loved, while she lingered late and lonely because her boy needed her. Deathless love: The luster had faded from her eye, her hair grown gray and thin, her face was wrinkled with grief and poverty, her hands were worn and fevered, yet she was more