Today in pulp I look at a legendary magazine that built an equally legendary publishing house: a tale that starts with reveille and ends in revelry. Stand by your beds!
This is the story of Captain Billy's Whiz Bang...
Captain Billy Fawcett was a U.S. Army captain during WWI, working on the military paper Stars and Stripes. After the war he ran a bar in Minneapolis until Prohibition shut it! So in 1919 he decided to publish a men's humour magazine, aimed at former Doughboys like himself.
Working on Stars and Stripes, along with previous experience on the Minneapolis Tribune, meant Fawcett had a good idea what ex-servicemen wanted to read and how to write it. His title would also make it plain who his magazine was aimed at: Captain Billy’s Whiz Bang.
Fawcett said that Whiz Bang – the sound an artillery shell makes – was “a continuation of the pep and snap we got in the army” intended to give Doughboys something to laugh about. It would mix rude jokes, ribald tales, bawdy poems and saucy scuttlebutt into a 64 page periodical.
Fawcett and his family financed and produced the first issue of Whiz Bang themselves, giving copies to veterans and selling remaining issues at newsstands and outside baseball games. Word of mouth fuelled sales and by 1920 Fawcett realised he had a hit on his hands.
Whiz Bang was loosely about Fawcett’s farm, with gags about the people who worked there and their contrived adventures. But it also featured scandalous Hollywood gossip from the LA ‘reporter’ Richmond and travel tales from far-flung fleshpots by the Rev. Golightly Morrill.
A lot of Whiz Bang’s success lay in its short, snappy and saucy features. Smokehouse Poetry featured rude rhymes whilst reader’s letters were edited by Pedro the Bull. Each edition also began with ‘Drippings From The Fawcett’ – an editorial essay from Captain Billy himself.
Whiz Bang’s humour reflected the concerns of Prohibition America: where to get a drink, why skirts were getting shorter, what you had to do to get a date nowadays. Its motto was “An explosion of pedigree bunk!” which it unfailingly delivered to over 400,000 readers at its peak.
However times change, and after the Wall Street Crash came the Great Depression: the appetite for saucy digest magazines ebbed and Captain Billy’s Whiz Bang eventually ceased publication in 1936. However its success had established Fawcett as a major player in pulp.
Captain Billy's Whiz Bang allowed Fawcett to create a publishing empire, launching over 50 magazine titles including True Confessions and Mechanix Illustrated. Fawcett Comics was launched in 1940, introducing Captain Marvel and Captain Video to the world.
Just as influential was Fawcett Gold Medal books. Launched in 1950 it was the first company to publish original titles in paperback form, transforming the pocketbook market with a mix of hardball and steamy titles. It also published Women’s Barracks, the first lesbian pulp novel.
Captain Billy's Whiz Bang reflected the openness and scandalous nature of post-WWI America. It launched a publishing behemoth and was famously immortalised in The Music Man: Not bad work for a Doughboy!
More stories another time...
• • •
Missing some Tweet in this thread? You can try to
force a refresh
Today in pulp... one of my favourite SF authors: Harry Harrison!
Harry Harrison was born Stamford, Connecticut, in 1925. He served in the US Army Air Corps during WWII, but became disheartened with military life. In his spare time he learned Esperanto.
Harrison started his sci-fi career as an illustrator, working with Wally Wood on Weird Fantasy and Weird Science up until 1950. He also wrote for syndicated comic strips, including Flash Gordon and Rick Random.
Today in pulp... Blade Runner! Let's look back at the classic 1982 movie and see how it compares to original novel.
"It's not an easy thing to meet your maker..."
Blade Runner is based on Philip K. Dick's 1968 novel Do Androids Dream Of Electric Sheep? However 'inspired' may be a better word, as the film is very different to the book.
In the novel Deckard is a bounty hunter for the San Francisco police. The year is 1992; Earth has been ravaged by war and humans are moving to off-world colonies to protect their genetic integrity. They are given organic robots to help them, created by the Rosen Association.
In the 1970s a fascinating engineering battle took place between America and Japan for control of the future. The prize was the world we live in now. And one of the key battles took place on your wrist.
This is the story of the digital watch...
'Digital' is a magical marketing word. Like 'laser' or 'turbo' it suggests progress, mastery and the future. People like those ideas. They like them enough to spend a lot of money on products that have them, especially if they can be a first adopter.
And so it was with the wristwatch. Electronic quartz watches were already a thing by the 1960s: an analogue movement driven by a quartz crystal resonator, powered by a small button battery.
But one American company was setting out on a new timekeeping odyssey...
Today in pulp... let's look back at a Shōjo manga artist whose work celebrated friendships between women: Jun'ichi Nakahara.
Jun'ichi Nakahara was born in Higashikagawa in 1913 and worked as an illustrator, a fashion designer and a doll maker. His work is highly regarded in Japan and he was a significant influence on modern manga art.
In the '20s and '30s Nakahara often drew for Shōjo no Tomo ("Girl's Friend") magazine. The style at the time was for demure, dreamlike imagery, but Nakahara added to this large expressive eyes, often reflecting the light.
Today in pulp I try to decipher 1980s Japanese street style, with the help of Olive: The Magazine for Romantic Girls!
This may involve frills...
Street style is an ever-changing mix of styles, brands, attitudes and poses with various influences. And you normally have to be in the right place at the right time to capture it.
Which is where magazines come in! Photograping, documenting and deconstructing fashion never goes out of style, and in the late 1970s Japanese youth had one key guide to help them: Popeye!
In February 1974 something profound and inexplicable happened to author Philip K Dick that changed his life forever. Was it an illness, a psychotic reaction, or something truly mystical?
Today in pulp I look back at the exegesis of Philip K Dick...
Philip K Dick was both prolific and influential. In his youth he came to the conclusion that, in a certain sense, the world is not entirely real and there is no way to confirm whether it is truly there.
By the end of the 1960s Philip K Dick had published over 40 novels and stories, as well as winning the 1963 Hugo Award for The Man In The High Castle. But he still struggled financially.