Captain Billy's Whiz Bang, July 1922 · page 38 of 67
Captain Billy's Whiz Bang #35 — page 38: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This is not a cartoon but a three-part poem published in *Captain Billy's Whiz Bang*, a humor magazine popular in the 1920s-30s. The poem expresses a plainspoken, anti-pretentious philosophy suited to the Western frontier spirit. The speaker requests a simple tombstone epitaph: "He Done His Damdest"—rejecting elaborate marble monuments and flowery sentiments. The poem defends this humble choice against those with "phony piety" who'd be scandalized, arguing that honest effort matters more than concealing life's sins beneath virtuous words. A footnote reveals the poem originally memorialized the editor's dog at "Breezy Point," whose tombstone praised qualities like "Beauty without Vanity"—suggesting the satirical magazine valued straightforward virtue over social pretense, even applying this philosophy to pet memorials. The satire targets Victorian sentimentality and hypocrisy.
📄 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 Smokehouse Poetry “He Done His Damdest” I ask that when my spirit quits this shell of mortal clay And o’er the trail across the range pursues its silent way, That no imposing marble shaft may mark the spot where rest The tailings of the bard who sang the praises of the west. But, that above them may be placed a slab of white or gray, And on it but the epitaph carved in the earlier day, Upon the head board of a man who did the best he could To have the bad deeds of his life o’ershadowed by the good: “He Done His Damdest.” II. Engrave upon the polished face of that plain, simple stone, No nicely worded sentiment intended to condone The sins of an eventful life, nor say the virtues wiped Away the stains of vice—in lines original or swiped; That rough but honest sentiment that stood above the head Of one who wore his boots into his final earthly bed Is good enough for me to have above my mould’ring clay— Just give the name and day I quit and underneath it say: “He Done His Damdest.” III. Some who are overstocked with phony piety may raise Their hands in blank amazement at the sentiment and gaze Upon the simple marble slab ‘neath which the sleeper lies, With six or seven different kinds of horror in their eyes; But hardy sons and daughters of this brave and rugged west Will see a tribute in the line so pointedly expressed— And what more earnest tribute could be paid to any man Whose weary feet have hit the trail towards the Mystery, than: “He Done His Damdest.” * * * This prose inscription was placed on the monument for our Canine Pet in the garden at Breezy Point by Mrs. Billy, who mourned the death of our dog: “Near this spot Are deposited the remains of one Who possessed Beauty without Vanity, Strength without Insolence,