Part 1

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Captain Billy’s Whiz Bang, Vol. II. No. 22, July, 1921

_It’s Coming!_

_A Laugh, a Sigh; a Smile, a Tear; a Giggle, a Sob, and the greatest collection of red-blooded gems._

THE WINTER ANNUAL of Captain Billy’s WHIZ BANG “_Pedigreed Follies of 1921-1922_” On Sale in October

All new jokes, jests and jingles; Captain Billy’s Advice to the Lovelorn; and Smokehouse Poetry comprising a collection of the best red-blooded poems in the world. Republication of “The Blue Velvet Band,” “The Face on the Barroom Floor,” “Shooting of Dan McGrew,” “Toledo Slim,” “Lasca,” “Evolution,” and “Johnnie and Frankie.” Four times as large and four times as great. Only three months to wait.

* * * * *

+------------------------------- If you like our Farmyard / Capt. Billy’s Whiz Bang, Filosophy and Foolishness, / R.R.2, Robbinsdale, Minn. fill in this coupon. / Enclosed is money order (or / check) for subscription commencing $2.50 per / with .................. issue year. / MONTH / / Name ............................ / Street ........................... / City & State ......................

_Captain Billy’s Whiz Bang_

_America’s Magazine of Wit, Humor and Filosophy_

July, 1921 Vol. II. No. 22

Published Monthly W. H. Fawcett, Rural Route No. 2 at Robbinsdale, Minnesota

Entered as second-class matter May 1, 1920, at the post-office at Robbinsdale, Minnesota, under the Act of March 3, 1879.

Price 25 cents $2.50 per year

Contents of this magazine are copyrighted. Republication of any part permitted when properly credited to Capt. Billy’s Whiz Bang.

“We have room for but one soul loyalty and that is loyalty to the American People.”—Theodore Roosevelt

Copyright 1921 By W. H. Fawcett

Edited by a Spanish and World War Veteran and dedicated to the fighting forces of the United States.

_Drippings From the Fawcett_

My friend Norton took me around Minneapolis recently on an evening’s jaunt to see the “sights.” After visiting two or three moonlit stores, Norton suggested that I be introduced to his sweetheart. Brother Norton, being fairly well varnished with fusel oil and white mule, called at the wrong house. A colored maid answered the door bell.

“Is (hic) Daisy at home?” he inquired.

“No, suh,” replied the maid.

“Then is Pansy here?” said Norton.

“No, suh.”

“Does Violet live here?”

“No, suh.”

“Then is (hic) Rose in?”

“No, suh, and look here, Mistuh, dis place ain’t no hot house.”

After which I led Brother Norton back to the flivver and we sojourned to Dutch’s stag cafe for the remainder of the evening.

* * * * *

I’ve found another use for my flivver: Deacon Miller’s suckling colt followed old Lizzie for half a mile the other day.

* * * * *

While at my Breezy Point cabin resort at Pequot I heard an interesting story regarding the manner in which young Indian men woo their sweethearts.

When the Indian feels a tug at his heart he will station himself with a tom-tom in front of the tepee of his beloved and beat frantically on the drum affair. If the girl loves him she comes out and the medicine man does the rest. If she scorns his love she places a snow-shoe at the wigwam entrance and the young chief goes back to his own tepee and keeps on beating his tom-tom until some squaw girl takes pity and marries him.

* * * * *

Maggie, our new harvest cookhouse chef, lost her brooch the other night, so she has prepared the following advertisement for the Whiz Bang: “LOST—A cameo brooch representing Venus and Adonis on the Robbinsdale road about ten o’clock on Wednesday evening.”

* * * * *

We’ve had a good laugh on our neighbor, Deacon Callahan, since the episode several of us witnessed in front of the Palace Shoe Store in Robbinsdale the other evening. The Deacon saw his wife coming down the street, so he hid in the doorway of the Palace. When she passed him, he jumped out suddenly and kissed her. Instead of the scream he expected, she hoarsely whispered: “Don’t be so bold, mister. Folks ’round here know me.”

* * * * *

Johnnie Beaton, of Ranier, Minn., tells about a period in his life when old John Law grabbed out and placed him in the Ranier calaboose. He had been inside but a short time when one of the local civic improvement “birds” handed him the usual circular asking a donation for the improvement of the local jail. Johnnie replied: “The present jail is good enough to suit me.” Half an hour later, he organized a stud poker game. As usual, the sucker squawked. His reply to the saphead was pert and to the point: “Sh! keep still. Do you want to get thrown out of here?”

* * * * *

The “no booze” edict for soldiers during the recent friction with Germany raised havoc with some of us rum-soaked sinners, but it also had its comical side at times. I remember a system I put into effect in Camp Lee. The first sergeant was informed that no passes would be granted to visit Pennsylvania points (Pennsy was wet) unless the fortunate man returned with proper credentials, said credentials to be deposited upon arrival in the top drawer of the skipper’s desk in the orderly room. It was my duty to check properly the pass“port.”

In our organization was a lieutenant whom we will call Evans for short. Once upon a time Evans was in a mess (he often was, as far as that goes, but this time I mean a mess where we eat), and in that mess there also was a colonel—a man of meanness and incidentally a strict teetotaller. This colonel saw, or thought he saw, in Evans a gentleman after his own heart—a steady, yea, even puritanical, officer.

One early morning, Evans returned from a pass to Altoona, Pa., and flopped his weary way to the mess hall. Collapsing in a seat, he played with his fork and tried to look sober for a few minutes, and then giving it up he concentrated on grub—or rather on waiters.

Near the mantelpiece in the mess stood what appeared to Evans to be the waiter on duty, and he addressed this person—the only other person in the mess—rather gruffly, I’m afraid.

“Heah—hic—orderly!” he exploded. “D’yuh think I’m—hic—sitting here—hic—merely to provide you—hic—with a spectacle? I want some food....”

“I’m afraid, lieutenant,” came the acid reply, “that you are providing me with a spectacle.”

“Good Gawsch!” spluttered Evans. “I thought you were an orderly. I beg pardon, major; I didn’t shee you were the—hic—colonel.”

* * * * *

Speaking of abbreviated dress brings to mind a recent occurrence in the St. Paul ball park, whence I had flivvered to watch Minneapolis lose to the Saints. Coming out, after the game, I bumped into a small boy who had become lost in the crowd. Upon inquiring why he was crying, he howled: “I lost my mama.” “Why didn’t you hold to her skirts?” I asked. “I tried to,” wept the kid, “but I couldn’t reach them.”

_Our Movie Gossips_

_California society whisperers frown on Edna Purviance’s rumored engagement to scion of Los Angeles wealth? Can it be Larry Semon “beat up” his leading lady, Lucille Carlisle? And Katherine McDonald has something to worship! The male sissy of the screen! Natalie Talmadge may find a snag in Buster Keaton’s backyard? Join our monthly movie gossip club! These dainty morsels are gathered by the Hollywood correspondent of this great family journal._

By RICHMOND.

Of all girls in the movies, Edna Purviance has the softest snap. In the last year and a half, almost two years, Charlie Chaplin has only made one picture, “The Kid,” which barely occupied more than a few weeks of Edna’s time. It’s true Edna doesn’t earn much compared to the other stars or leading women of the screen—they say her contract with Charlie gives her only $100 a week—but she has time—loads of it—and Edna plays the social game in that spare time and doesn’t appear to worry her pretty head about her career or future fame. She has an attractive but modest apartment, a not too expensive car and maid and puts everything on her clothes, which are of the smartest.

About two years ago Carleton Burke of Los Angeles began to “rush” Edna. Carleton is considered the catch of the Pacific coast. He is wealthy—his family is A-1 socially, Carleton is handsome, traveled and well educated and has made a name as a polo player. He is also a member of all the exclusive men’s clubs in San Francisco and Los Angeles.

Well, of course, when Carleton first took up Edna there was much whispering concerning a Venice bungalow, after Charlie “discovered” the fair manicurist in a small town near Frisco Bay. Could she be received? If Carleton Burke meant to marry her, of course, she’d be taken up eventually anyhow, and the Burkes are not the sort of people you can snub. So Carleton’s sister, Louise, entertained Edna. The Claus Spreckels at Coronada did the same and a few other of the selects followed the lead. Edna accepted these favors with a very calm and ladylike demeanor quite as if she had a perfect right to the best of social life, and she created a favorable impression. Edna has sense enough not to carry vulgar studio movie talk into the drawing rooms of people who wouldn’t understand. She is never forward or bold and, with her undeniable beauty, is surely an asset to any function.

However, Carleton has continued to take Edna about—to the Midwick and other exclusive country clubs, but marriage has never “come off.” Through Burke, Edna became acquainted with Mrs. Sallie Polk Merritt of Pasadena—an attractive brunette of social standing but whose name has been mentioned in a few sensational divorce mix-ups. Sallie and Edna are bosom friends and go everywhere together.

It is now whispered about Los Angeles that the Burke family has decided against the marriage.

Rather hard on Edna if she loves him, isn’t it? We don’t really know whether she cares particularly or not.

* * * * *

Can it be that Larry Semon spanks his leading lady love, Lucille Carlisle, when she doesn’t do as he likes? There was such a violent spanking in the environs of the Vitagraph lot recently, that Lucille retired to a hospital for a rest, and a new leading lady replaced her.

* * * * *

It is said the beautiful Katherine Macdonald, picture star, earns a mere $40,000 per picture now. Despite the fact that Katherine looks eternally sad in her pictures and shows not a glimmer of cheer or sense of humor, people like to gaze on the American beauty and her clothes. Anyhow her backers must make a profit or they wouldn’t come through with the “40 thou.” Now, it is said Katherine saves nearly every cent. She is reported quite the most saving woman on the screen.

The social set like Katherine because she doesn’t get spiflicated and run around with promiscuous ordinary movie folk, and because she holds herself “cold and high.” The studio folk on her own lot say she is “hard,” and that she won’t let them hire blondes for her pictures because the sunlight has a way of making light hair stand out conspicuously, and thus detracts from her own person.

Every week or so a San Francisco man named Morrell comes south, and they say he visits Katherine. The couple are engaged, it is said, and when her two-year contract is up, intend to marry and quit business for good. Friends say they are both saving carefully toward that day.

The arithmetical problem is this: If Morrell earns “X” salary and Katherine $40,000 per picture or about $240,000 a year, how much salt and pepper will Morrell’s savings buy two years from now? How many steaks and cream puffs can Katherine buy?

* * * * *

In a recent issue we dealt somewhat with the male sissy whose devastating inroads have made themselves particularly felt in this Egyptianesque hotbed of art, near art and the no end of things for which poor art is blamed—Hollywood.

Our readers will recall that some months ago a very noted “heavy” of the films, a man nearing the fifties and with a wealth of apparent masculine comeliness, was arrested in company with another male person after a perfectly inquisitive detective had watched them through a keyhole of the film star’s home.

Broken in the prime of life, an object of scorn and with others fearing to be seen in his company, even for business purposes, his plight is a sorry one. More seldom as the months pass does his white head and Romanesque profile appear upon the screen.

There is grim humor in the plight of this man. The name of an immensely rich woman was mentioned in connection with his arrest. It was intimated that he had grown cold in his attentions to her and that the detective who trapped the two men was well paid with feminine gold. She must have suspected something.

* * * * *

Wedding bells and hopeful love of man and woman seems to have broken out afresh in the picture world. Wasn’t it in an issue four months back that we confidentially confided to our readers that Charlie Chaplin was openly adoring a sweet young thing of seventeen? Just about four months after we cheered you with this item, the daily papers declaimed that all signs and portents were to the effect that May Collins was to become the second bride of the comedian.

Needless to say, Miss Collins by this time has been “interviewed.” With the awe-striking wisdom of seventeen—some say she is younger—the girl sets forth, or so she is quoted, a panacea for marriage ills. She did not admit she was going to marry Charlie but she wasted no space in praising anyone but him. It appears that if May marries Charlie that the path of true art will not be tampered with and if Charles wishes to remain out on business, or otherwise further his picture activities, that May will not offer hindrance.

Mildred Harris, too, was seventeen when she married Charlie and complained that the boy stayed away too much. Should May and Charlie hook up we may be able to watch the theories of two seventeen-year-old misses work out, as regards their ideas of what the lord and master should do.

* * * * *

When Buster Keaton goes out in the evening he takes his whole family. There are so many of them we’ve lost count. Anyhow, when he goes down to Sunset Inn at Santa Monica the waiters have to move three tables and put them together so that all Buster’s family can be seated. There are several sisters and as many younger brothers and a “Pa” and lots of aunts and uncles. And Buster cheerfully pays the bill.

A little incident has been reported to the correspondent of this great family journal. It appears Buster had been out with some lady of whom his father objected, or had done something which his “Pa” didn’t like and there was an argument over at the Metro studio. “Pa” perhaps hasn’t forgotten his ancient and pleasant right of parental authority. However, Buster is resourceful. It is said he put “Pa” in his dressing-room and locked him up for the night, going on about his own business thereafter.

We wonder, if, when Natalie Talmadge marries Buster this spring, she will have to lock his family in the closets occasionally in order to prevent little rows!

* * * * *

The Tale of a Shirt

Comfort, the farmers’ journal, says this: Is there any way for a girl to tell her sweetheart his shirt-tail is out? The same way she would tell her brother or cousin or any friend. A sweetheart’s shirt-tail is no more sacred or worthy of respect than any other shirt-tail. A tail belongs to a shirt as much as cuffs or a collar and isn’t any more indecent. I’d tell anyone to tuck his shirt in—just like that.

* * * * *

My girl is so fat she wears inner tubes for garters.

* * * * *

All Aboard for Arkansaw

Mama’s got eczema, Papa’s got the gout, I’ve got something itchy coo; It’s just breakin’ out.

* * * * *

No Caveman Stuff Here

“Oh Jane, how have you been getting on with Ed?”

“Not very well, Dolly; I’ve had to buy only two hair nets for my last five dates with him.”

* * * * *

In the Garden of Eden

“I’ll peel off,” said the apple.

“If you do, I’ll leave,” said the tree.

* * * * *

Especially When the North Wind Blows

She was a silly little, gushing thing, and habitually talked without thinking, and in the exaggerated fashion which the female of the species at present affects. Lately married, she was able to induce her adoring hubby to go with her on shopping expeditions. Even when the tour included a visit to an establishment where the most intimate of feminine garments were on sale, he did not flinch.

In one such shop, the discreet manageress inquired as to whether a certain set of silken unmentionables, recently purchased, had given full satisfaction.

The little bride’s eyes grew round.

“Oh, they were beautiful!” she burst out, in her usual fashion. “Everybody admired them—everybody!”

Turning pale, the unfortunate bridegroom didn’t know for a moment whether to file for congress or go out and get a stiff drink of moonshine.

* * * * *

She had a sore throat, and was unable to sing, so the manager buzzed her off to the theater’s medical man the tooter the sweeter. The doc. produced his laryngoscope, and as he was adjusting it he pleasantly remarked, “You’d be surprised how far we can see with this little instrument.”

“Oh, is that so, doctor?” she faltered. “Well, it can’t be helped, but I ought to tell you that I really had no time to change my things before I came out.”

_Whiz Bang Etiquette_

Is your etiquation on etiquette inetiquate? Do you pull the faux pas, gaucherie, vulgarian, and other boners too humorous to mention?

Read these questions thoughtlessly, study the answers carelessly and add both to your misinformation on this subject:

What do you know about introductions?

If Green and Brown met at your home brewery for the first time, would you say, “Green, meet Brown. Boys, have a drink,” or vice versa? Suppose the Siamese Twins dropped in about that time to borrow your recipe for double brew. Would you present them plurally or en mash?

Don’t introduce them; familiarity breeds a thirst.

The ballroom should always be a center of (physical) culture and grace.

What is the correct position for the gentleman in dancing?

Cheek to cheek.

For the lady?

Vice versa.

Is it correct to wander away from the ballroom with a dancing partner?

If you become delirious, you may wander.

Is the “shimmy” done in the best society?

Yes.

How?

Like a bowl of jello in an earthquake.

Should one try to dance if they do not know the steps?

No, that would brand you as a hopeless vulgarian.

Should one crack jokes about the ladies’ gowns?

No, your conversation should not be confined to trivialities.

If a girl asks you in when you escort her home from the ball at 3 a. m., should you accept her invitation?

Politely decline, and give me her address.

Every dinner should begin with a little soup and less noise.

Should the lady of the house help the soup?

Yes, if it needs it.

What would you do if you made a wine stain on a lady’s dress?

Help her to remove it, the stain.

Should you decline wine by clapping your hand on top of your glass?

I wouldn’t.

Should water be taken directly from a finger bowl?

No, a soup ladle is placed at each plate for this purpose.

Etiquette is used in many other ways, but these few simple-minded rules will get you out of some of the worst places.

_A Dilemna De Luxe_

By MARGARET MANNERS

It was embarrassing, to say the least! The young man strove vainly to retain his equilibrium, also his hold upon the inert form in his arms. But the color mounted in a vivid flush of red to his very blonde hair.

Then the nearby group of watchers laughed. He was still more confused. The auburn locks of the fair figure in his arms became loosened and fell in a cascade almost to the floor. The man was visibly disconcerted, and letting go with one hand, he clutched at his collar and gazed wildly down at the cold, upturned face.

With a renewed effort to escape the taunting eyes of the curious, snickering crowd, he gathered the slim figure to him once more, when a shout went up and, looking back, he saw that the gown he had hastily loosened at the neck of the fair vision when he had first come upon the scene, had slipped off and lay in a soft silken heap at his feet. He was painfully aware that all that remained to view was the daintiest of filmy lingerie, and sheer, silken hosiery. One tiny pump had fallen off.

The young man thought he would faint if he did not escape the crowd that had rapidly grown to a curious mob. The sight of a very flushed youth, holding the limp female figure in his awkward arms, scantily clad, beautiful face impassive, instead of exciting sympathy, brought forth only mirth at his clumsy attempts to withdraw. Evidently such an experience had never occurred to the embarrassed youth before, but he rallied and finally reached the door.

As he started through, carefully, almost tenderly holding the lovely form, the delicate crepe de chine underslip caught on the little glass doorknob; to his utter chagrin, he let go altogether, leaning against the framework of the door; this was too much!

Wildly he thought of abandoning his duty, when the stern voice of a very dapper, wax-mustached, and excited gentleman who forced his way through the door, brought him up with a jerk.

“What ees the matter with you?” almost shrieked the head floorwalker of “The Elite Modes” shop. “Look, look!” he cried, gesticulating wildly, “worse than ze bull in ze china-closet! Go back to where you belong, and stay there!”

The new window dresser of “The Elite Modes” gave one look at the broken nose of the wax window-model which he had dropped, and fled—back to his old love, the gingham department!

* * * * *

“It is forty years since my husband even kissed me,” complained a woman in Hennepin county divorce court.

There is much pathos in that “even.”

* * * * *

The Sinai Joke

A bishop who had been widely advertised for a speech at Westminster Abbey, was greeted by a record-breaking audience. The famous Abbey was crowded to the doors.

As the bishop stepped to the rostrum and opened the good book he said, “I will take for my text today, ‘And when the Lord ascended Mt. Sinai, What did he say?’” And, looking at those assembled in the balcony, he said again, in a louder voice, “‘And when the Lord ascended Mt. Sinai, What did he say?’” And once again, looking upward to the gallery, he shouted (as if waiting for an answer), “‘And when the Lord ascended Mt. Sinai, What did he say?’”

A little Australian buddy, unable to contain himself any longer, rose from his place in the rear and, standing on his seat, raised his hand: “I’ll bite, bishop, wot did ’e say?”

* * * * *

Nice Burglar

“Oh, Myrtle! Weren’t you frightened to death when that burglar broke into your room?”