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Even Fawcett comics (4,400,000 a month: Captain Marvel, Whiz Comics, Wow Comics, etc.) are morally impeccable. Captain Marvel would never think of saying "Holy Moses"; when pressed, he ejaculates "Holy Moley!" — perhaps the most inspired bowdlerizing since Ring Lardner wrote "Golly is in his heaven." The Fawcetts debated long before adding the Petty girl to their men's maga zine, True (circ. 440,000). Although her presence is justified by a "noted psychologist's" learned "analysis," the Fawcetts regularly ask each other: "Does it add?" No Fawcett editor speaks of "sex"; the approved office word is "romance." Brother Act. Employes call the Fawcetts "the greatest brother act in history." All four own equal shares of stock, are the company's only directors. Their Times Square offices are paneled alike, with equal-sized gold letters on the door. They wear Broadway ties, golf together, give each other hotfoots at board meetings.
Brother Wilford H. ("Buzz") Fawcett Jr., 37, is president because he is eldest; Brother Roger, 35, is general manager; Brother Gordon, who has just passed his Army physical, is 33 and treasurer; Brother Roscoe, recently discharged from the Army, is 32 and circulation director. They have been working together ever since, as boys, they peddled father's Whiz Bang around Minneapolis. Billy Sr., an Army captain in World War I, had come home jobless but with a tin hat full of dirty stories, which he began mimeographing for fellow vets. Soon Whiz Bang had to be printed to meet demand, and within four years it had a circulation of 425,000, made a profit of $500,000 a year.
After the nation's mood in humor changed to slicker stuff, Whiz Bang slowly sizzled out, finally died in 1932. Since then the Fawcett policy has been quick profit or sudden death. Totally disdainful of comfortable subscriber backlogs, the brothers sell 99% of their 10,000,000 magazines a month on the stands.
Last week the four Fawcetts, well-skilled in the art of editing their magazines in the circulation department, were already making flashy bets on postwar reading habits. Their judgment: uplift is here to stay; when the guns of World War II stop firing, there will be no demand for a new Whiz Bang.