Captain Billy's Whiz Bang, June 1922 · page 11 of 68
Captain Billy's Whiz Bang #34 — page 11: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains editorial content from *Captain Billy's Whiz Bang*, an early 20th-century humor magazine. The editor thanks a contributor for writing about the magazine's farm near Robbinsdale, Minnesota. The humor here is domestic and self-deprecating: the editor jokingly hopes his wife won't see the headline calling Whiz Bang "world popular," fearing it might make him too proud to visit his Eagles lodge weekly—a gentle jab at marital dynamics. The main narrative describes a 1920s-era contradiction between "modern progress" and rural reality: Captain Billy flew 22 miles by aeroplane in 15 minutes, yet a six-mile wagon journey through snow drifts took over two hours. This juxtaposition satirizes the uneven modernization of America, where technological advancement existed alongside primitive rural conditions. The page concludes with an incomplete anecdote about a mysterious letter, presumably continuing on the next page.
📄 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 9 Y E EDITOR extends hearty thanks to Brother Pease, of the Anoka County Union, for his write-up of the Whiz Bang farm. For the benefit of Whiz Bang readers, Anoka is a suburb of Robbinsdale, 15 miles distant, but it happens to be about ten times larger than our own home town. We particularly appreciate the “head writer” in his selection of the words—“Fawcett’s Whiz Bang Becoming World Popular.” Well, Soaks, here’s hoping Mrs. Billy’s eyes do not fall on this headline. Otherwise, I never would be able to visit the Eagles’ lodge rooms once a week. * * * O N Sunday, April 2, I met the pilot of the Breezy Point aeroplane on the ice which covered the Mississippi River at Brainerd, Minnesota. Accompanied by Mrs. Billy, we flew 22 miles over snow covered pine forests, landing on the ice in front of Breezy Point farmhouse in fifteen minutes. A few days later, Panther Pete, my hunting guide, drove us in our old-fashioned farm wagon to the nearest railroad station, Pequot. The snow drifts were so high that we were on the road for more than two hours in making the journey of six miles. This experience is a good sample of modern progress. * * * While at Breezy Point, my brother Harvey opened the following letter from an unknown