Jump to content

Hobos, Tramps and Homeless Bums


KaBar

Recommended Posts

This forum is supported by the 12ozProphet Shop, so go buy a shirt and help support!
This forum is brought to you by the 12ozProphet Shop.
This forum is brought to you by the 12oz Shop.

I don't really "write." I streak railcars if I'm bored--"KaBar." I am more an aficianado of grafitti than a practitioner. I accept that it takes a certain degree of talent to be a good writer, and realistically, my shit is weak. No reason to fuck up perfectly good railcars with poorly executed hollows--I admire the work, but refrain, these days.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

One thing, though this opinion comes without any "experiance" is that it seems like people are no longer "brought up" in sub cultures today. You had Rufe, helping you learn that "this ain't no hobby" and other such things, from the basics of hopping to the culture prevading the tramp lifestyle. Writers used to be taught the game from an older more experianced artist, shown the ropes so to speak. It seems like people are getting harder to trust everyday, as if capitalism and its poison has really enetered the hearts of most people leading to a lot of "all for me at the cost of all of you" mentalities out there. Do you see this more now then in the past? Certainly feels like the train culture is slowly decaying due to increased security. Would you have stayed a tramp if you were not catching out? I feel like wondering, eyes wide open, all that comes with it is so beneficial to life.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Wordvirus

 

I'm sitting here about to leave for work, rocking the shit out of Jug Fusion on my computer CD drive, in a nice warm house, after having had a nice shower and putting on nice clean clothes.

 

When I was tramping, I never had any of this sort of stuff. The physical discomforts of living on the road weren't as bad as the emotional detachment from "regular" society and (worst of all) no girlfriend. I eventually joined a commune (Abraxas Collective, in Houston) and while living there, I met a young woman on the run from an abusive, redneck, KKK-sympathizing husband, and she and I left out straight for California. That solved the no-girlfriend problem, at least for a while. She and I married, then divorced, and I enlisted in the Marines, in 1976.

 

The tramp culture is being continuously marginalized as "regular" citizens find themselves with more and more options. Virtually everyone owns a car in the U.S., or has access to one. Those who have no car can take the Greyhound pretty cheaply. In fact, a very high-milage tramp (and a great rock drummer) that I know, Grain Car George, has stopped riding trains pretty much altogether, and rides the Greyhound wherever he goes now. He does roofing in Helena, and pretty much lives a straight lifestyle.

 

Fifty years ago, it was not unusual for regular citizens to have a relative or acquaintance who rode trains in the Great Depression. There WERE no cars for the genuine down-and-out workers. It was catch out, or walk. Most of those people have passed away now, and the number of people who have ever ridden a train or had to go on the bum is smaller and smaller. Pardoxically, the number of full-time, 24-7 tramps is probably as big as it ever was, but today "regular" citizens see their destitution as being a result of their own poor choices--dope, booze, choosing an "alternative" non-productive lifestyle. A guy flying a sign on a freeway on-ramp who lives to drink or smoke dope is not going to get much sympathy from people driving by his spot. There are always a few generous souls, but there are also about a million scam artists who just panhandle because it's easier than working. I never give a buck to a panhandler unless he has a full set of road gear. Streamliners don't get anything from me.

 

Genuinely displaced workers usually are caught by the Unemployment Benefits safety net. Most middle-class people cannot imagine being so careless as to allow oneself to fall through the cracks. I've tried to talk to Stretch about saving for the future--he basically told me to forget it, he's not willing. Whatever--it's his life, you know?

 

People are responsible for themselves. I came in off the road because in order to have a spouse, one must be able to support oneself and another person. Tramps cannot do that, their time is spent surviving and having adventures, not creating surplus wealth that they can count on in hard times. The day I went mainstream, I had like eight dollars in my pocket, and I just said "Enough is enough. I gotta get a job and a real place to live." I was 32, and recently discharged from the Marines. I got a job as a union janitor in San Francisco the very first day. It paid $9.24 an hour. So the very first hour on my new job, I doubled my net worth.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

damn. this is by far the greatest thing ive read on this board. i hopped once. made it about 12 hours before we got caught by a railcop. my absolute dream is to become a 'seasoned' hopper, or tramp (ive never heard that term before...i like it). sleeping outside, dumpstering goods and generally making good with what society discrads is a beautiful and truly freeing life. i cant wait to hear more of your stories and knowledge. thanks so much.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Macksimum

 

Well, as much as I like to write about tramping, I worry that I'm going to put a spin on it that glamorizes it too much. Riding freight trains is fun, of course, otherwise people like me and you wouldn't be attracted to it, but if you don't know what you're doing, it can be dangerous as hell.

 

I have set myself up here for a fall, by acting like a know-it-all about riding trains. Yes, I know quite a bit, but nobody knows everything, and most of my experience is pretty outdated. Some of the routes I rode thirty years ago don't even exist any more. The rules are a great deal different than they were. We rode out in the open a lot back then, carelessly exposing ourselves to the view of people at grade crossings and on highways. Cell phones didn't exist then, so the risk of somebody turning you in was small. Not so, today.

 

TODAY, more than ever, the philosophy that Rufe taught me is valid. The idea is to "lowline"--get into the yard, on the train and ride it, get off the train, and never be seen. "Leave no trace, Do no damage, Make no disturbance." Other than streaking a few railcars, we tried to not be seen in any yard where we did not know for certain that the rail workers were friendly. We did not use railroad radio scanners, which are common now, and certainly did not use handheld HAM radios, which are becoming almost as common as scanners. (Tramps use the HH HAM radios to monitor RR radio transmissions, not to talk, at least, not on the same frequencies that the RR uses.)

 

With the knowledge on this thread, a copy of a good RR atlas and a CCG, you could cross the U.S. and Canada tomorrow.

 

Another subject dear to my heart is tramp life. Stretch is camped out down at my favorite jungle in a hooch we built out of dumpster-dived 2x4's, political signs and a few plastic RR plastic tarps and air bag liners. We hauled about 25 or 30 5-gallon buckets of gravel from where it was spilled on the RR ballast by gravel trains, to get rid of the mudhole that used to be in front of the hooch and the fire pit.

 

Stretch got a little under-the-table job at a local ice house, sweeping up and emptying trash cans. I kick in some food and beer money once in a while, but he's pretty much living on his own. He rides the Houston METRO rapid transit like the experienced pro he is (he has memorized all the lines and the schedules, pretty much) and uses the computer at the downtown Houston Library to keep up with friends who are riding in other parts of the country. I'm going to try and scrounge up a bicycle for him, next time he hits Houston.

 

For a hobo/tramp like Stretch, dumpster diving is a fine art. He goes "shopping" when he needs something. Need batteries? Radio Shack. Office supplies? OfficeMax. Camping gear? Academy and REI. He gets a lot of stuff as giveaways by generous people on the corner while flying a sign, too. Dog food for Burlington is a perennial favorite, along with toiletries, canned food, etc.

 

This sort of life is only possible as long as it's only a few people trying to live it. Back in the '60s, with thousands of hippie kids trying to panhandle, you could starve to death looking for "spare change." and a lot of people were really offended by kids hitting them up for money.

 

You're welcome to come down and live in our hooch if you want to, LOL. Stretch is going to Mississippi in a couple of weeks, and the hooch will be vacant. It's a tough life, for certain. Stretch might take you on as a prospect, if you're really serious about learning to hop--especially if you offer to pay him to instruct you. I never paid Rufe anything, but I did buy the bulk of the groceries, and all the tobacco and booze. Rufe had Food Stamps, but very little cash--you can't buy tobacco or alcohol with Food Stamps.

 

Road knowledge is extremely valuable, if you are riding trains. You cannot buy experience, but if you have a mentor until you get your sea legs, you'll be a LOT safer.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Stretch and Burlington Dog Caught out Saturday

 

Stretch and Burl rode out on the KCS from Beaumont on Saturday, headed for Mississippi. We spent the night at the jungle Friday night, getting rid of trash, sorting through stuff, fixing the roof on the hooch so it wouldn't leak after Stretch removed his tarp and rolled it up over his bindle. Saturday morning I loaded up a bucket of tools we had in the jungle, we made the rounds saying goodbye, saw the guys at the beer store where Stretch had a job, went down to Bellaire Junction and said goodbye to John and Linda and the tramps down there in the Bellaire JCT jungle, then pulled stakes to Beaumont. Stretch caught out shortly before dark on the KCS, and I headed back to Houston. Spring is here, trees are budding out, it's beginning to get hot at night--time to go north.

 

Stretch talked to a guy from SBC down near the jungle who says that within six weeks to two months that SBC will be laying a new fiber-optic cable right next to the RR right-of-way. This is bad news, because Union Pacific watches the work crews like hawks, and that means we are going to have UP officials right square in the middle of the jungle. Damn. They'll probably have the hooch torn down and sic the UP bulls on the jungle. Something tells me that at the first sign of the SBC fiber-optic crew it would be an excellent idea to not show up at the jungle for a month or so.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • 2 weeks later...

what does your wife think of all this? not to be rude, but it seems like it would strike her as a bit odd when her husband goes dumpster diving, hangs out with homeless bums/tramps, and sleeps in a hobo camp.

 

 

 

sorry if this came off as rude, this thread is full of really intriguing knowledge, i am not knocking you because you are obviously an extremely intelligent person.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Extra Sense

 

My wife is kind of an eccentric too. She was a hippie chick back in the '60s, then got a job as a commercial seamstress building fire-proof race suits for drag racers in California. She also built drag chutes, custom crash harnesses for female drivers, and custom suits for both male and female nationally-ranked racers.

 

She raced motorcycles in the California desert, and twice rode in the Barstow-to-Vegas motocross race (didn't place either time, but she finished) and was a founding member of the Southern California Independent Driver's Association (SCIDA,) which sanctioned Volkswagen powered desert racers and dune buggy racing.

 

When I met her, I was in the Marines. She was a scuba diver, and I was still surfing. So I took up diving too, and she took up body surfing and bellyboarding. We lived a block from the beach near Doheny State Beach in Dana Point, CA., and in San Clemente and San Juan Capistrano.

 

When we were dating, she lost her job as a Household Finance loan office manager. She was very bummed out. Trying to be comforting, I said "Honey, look at this as an opportunity. If you could do anything for a living, what would it be?" And she said "I've always wanted to be a merchant seaman in the Merchant Marine." (Yeah, right , I was thinking.) "Well, if that's what you want, sweetheart, you go right down there and sign up."

She went down and got a Z-Card from the Coast Guard, then joined the National Maritime Union AFL-CIO, and started hounding the NMU business agent for a job. She went to the NMU union hall in San Pedro every day for SEVEN MONTHS. She baked cookies for the staff. She played dominoes with all the old guys. She dogged all the shipping companies so much that the secretaries all knew her by her first name.

 

Finally one of the old guys got sick a couple of hours before his tanker was going to sail and she was in the union hall, so she got shipped out as a second cook. (She kept her seabag packed all the time, in the back of her pick-up camper.) She was running gasoline up to Alaska and crude oil back to Martinez, CA., on board the second-largest oil tanker in the world, the "Atigun Pass." Then the cook (who only had one leg--the other was a prosthesis--true story) got so drunk during a bad storm that they had to tie him in his bunk for safety, and the captain asked my wife if she could somehow get sandwiches or something together to feed the crew (thirty men.) The seas were so bad that it was impossible to cook (the kettles slid right off the galley stove) but she drafted the two Puerto Rican scullery hands, and they made sandwiches and managed to make coffee.

When the storm was over, the captain had the cook medevacked by chopper, and promoted my wife to Chief Cook right on the spot. The union raised hell, but the company backed the captain. The rest of the time she was shipping out, she shipped as a Chief Cook.

 

When I started riding Harleys, she rode with me. When I joined a club, she became friends with the girlfriends and wives of the other members. When I got hurt pretty bad in a motorcycle wreck, and I was en route to the hospital, she rode my damaged scooter home, locked it up, then followed me to the hospital, because she knew I would be worried about the scoot being left on the street and not chained up.

 

She's an excellent shot with a pistol, and once shot skeet on the men's team at her gun club. She started hunting deer at age 13 with her father in Washington State. She got her first whitetail at age thirteen, using her mother's .30-30 Winchester lever-action rifle.

 

Her favorite rifle today is a Ruger .243 with a 3x9 scope.

 

She once rode her Honda CB750 from Southern California to Washington State to visit her parents, then to Montana, down through the high desert states and returned through Arizona and Nevada. By herself.

 

That's pretty much covers why she doesn't worry much about me riding trains, I guess.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Kabar, I wanted your advice on a tramp related subject.

There's an area near where i live that is perfect for painting frieghts but there are several jungle encampments. I wanted to know what might be a good way of determining whether they might be hostile towards writers or not and if so, what would be the best course of action in the event of a negative encounter?

Link to comment
Share on other sites

LENS

 

First of all, I'd kind of like to know what the surrounding area is like. Are we talking dead-ass urban ghetto or rural lay-ups or what? Do you live in/near the area? Are the jungles populated all the time with the same people? Or are there different people there every time?

 

The reason I ask is that here in Houston we have numerous "homeless camps" and some of them have been there for years. Some of them are well-known to be havens for drug users (heroin, meth, etc.) and sometimes they will be all-homosexual, or all-heterosexual, or all-black or all-white. If it's an all-white hetero camp, they will be pretty hostile to black males. Keep in mind, in the homeless world, whites are usually in the minority, and they get pushed around in the usually black neighborhoods where they live. I have heard some unbelieveably racist statements from white people who were clearly clinging to the absolute last splinter of the bottom rung of the ladder. Not all, of course, but if a black writer were to stumble into one of these camps, he would probably be told to "move around" (i.e. "leave".)

 

Of course, this same thing is also true, to a lesser degree, in all-black camps. I have been told to "keep yo' cracka ass away from our 'hood" more than once. But the hostility, while palpable, was of a different degree.

 

I have also come upon a camp full of drug addicts, many of whom obviously had AIDS. These sorts of groups are fairly dangerous in the daytime, but seriously dangerous at night. The heroin addicts who are so deteriorated that they can no longer successfully turn tricks or steal to get dope money resort to more direct forms of crime.

 

The AVERAGE hobo jungle has none of these hazards. Alcohol is the drug of choice. The tramps I rode with and are friends with are pretty much open-minded when it comes to race, and an odd sort of "don't-ask, don't-tell" situation exists with the gay tramps. As long as gay tramps don't make any overt sexual advances, they are generally tolerated well. But there are definately some sexually aggressive jockers riding the rails, whether they are ex-cons, or just mean-ass butthole bandits or what, I can't say. When I was younger (20) I had older tramps indicate a big, strong tramp and say "Don't ever get on a train with him--he tries to rape the young guys." If you're on a train with a rapo, there's no place to go. You either fight and win, or get fucked. A rolling boxcar at night has a lot of the same characteristics of being in a cell. I must admit, though, while I heard a few lurid stories to this effect, nobody ever tried this with me.

 

The only thing about grafitti that tramps would be concerned about would be if you heated up the yard or the jungle. As long as you don't get arrested, and don't attract too much attention from the bulls, they wouldn't care. In fact, a lot of the younger tramps write grafitti too. (That's kind of how I got attracted to 12 Oz. to start with.)

 

Etiquette exists everywhere, and it does in hobo jungles too.

First of all, the jungle is where these guys live. It's their space, just like your living room or your bedroom is your space, so don't enter it without permission. I always stop well out from the edges of the camp and call out "Hel-LO the camp! Can I come in?" Usually people just wave you on in and don't care, but if they don't want company, they will definately tell you to beat it. 90% of the time, you'll be welcome, especially if you have alcohol or cigarettes to share. Or even just rolling tobacco.

 

If anybody asks you if you want in on the Frisco, they are talking about raising money for alcohol, usually. Some of the old timers still throw down on a genuine frisco circle for a meal, but it's rarer now than it was in 1970, and it was very rare even then. If you hang out with tramps, you'll soon find out that many of them are generous to a fault. If they have two bucks, they'll give you one. And the flip side is true also. If you have money, they expect you to shoulder the majority of the economic burden. They live in a world where saving for the future is practically unknown. To them, obtaining a twelve-pack of beer or a few 40's is a necessity like paying the rent or the light bill. If you want to be their friend, don't be cheap. You have money. They need it.

 

Up the stack is a story I heard a few times about the FTRA. If the jungle is an FTRA jungle, tread very lightly. If there are very many guys there, or if they are drinking or getting high, LEAVE. Just say "I gotta go," and do it. If there are any women around an FTRA jungle, STAY AWAY FROM THEM. The FTRA will seriously hurt anybody who messes with their women. If you absolutely must speak to one (like she asks you a question and you don't want to be rude) be polite, and don't get cute. NEVER insult a woman travelling with the FTRA, unless you just want to be in a fight for your life. The FTRA travels armed all the time, either with sticks, or knives, or both, and sometimes with pistols. If anybody tells you to move on, or if anybody gives you an old fashioned kitchen match, GET YOUR ASS OUT OF THEIR CAMP IMMEDIATELY.

 

Tramps see a passing train sort of like a handy way to get rid of stuff. If they have a bag of garbage or a shitter bucket, and a train is passing by, they'll just toss the bag or bucket into an open boxcar. Adios, trash sack.

 

Most of the tramps I ever met were just decent, okay guys who drank too much. They're mostly alcoholics to one degree or another. But you got to figure, if they weren't a little screwed up, they wouldn't be living as tramps. You know?

 

Never take a piss or a shit anywhere near camp. If you have to piss, take your gear with you, and do it well away from camp. If you know the tramps pretty well, your gear is probably safe, but keep all money and valuables ON YOUR PERSON, along with your knife. Never flash your money. "Keep your money in your shoe, and your knife in your pocket." That means don't tempt people to rob you, and don't go around provoking people or brandishing a weapon.

 

Tramps have a lot of free time, and they often use that time to read, or practice a musical instrument, or carve stuff, or do needlework. I've met a few tramps that knitted stuff. Texas Mad Man does beautiful needlework. He has an entire quilt made of old blue jean material that he stitched by hand, in the National Hobo Museum. He has made many shirts and coats over the years. Tanner City Kid carves intricate items out of wood--things like a ball in a cage, or a chain of links with a carved wooden anchor on the end.

 

If there is nobody in a camp, but their stuff is still there, don't go in. Going into someone's camp while they are not there is a serious breach of etiquette. NEVER touch anybody's pack or bedroll unless they direct you to do so.

 

Most tramps do not shake hands. There's no place to wash, everybody's hands are dirty, and quite frankly, you have no way to know what they've been doing. If you extend your hand to them, they will often shake it, but they don't like it. Just tip your hat a little, or give a little mock salute instead--"Glad ta meetcha. My name's KaBar."

 

Mind your own business. If they want you to know something about themselves, they'll tell you. Otherwise, asking questions is considered nosy and rude. "What, are you writin' a book?"

 

Keep your eyes and ears open, and your mouth shut. This questions thing cuts both ways, but I have been grilled pretty hard a few times. Once, this guy said "Shit, you ain't no tramp! You're wearing a wedding ring! Tramps ain't got no family!" Another time a guy was convinced I was a cop because I was wearing a Marine Corps military watch with military time on it (1300, 1400, etc.). They were right--it was suspicious to them.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

KaBAR...

 

I don't want to be too specific about the spot.

 

But the area where the jungles are is about 200 feet from where i want to paint. There's a stretch of road obscured by a line of tree running along it on one side of the tracks and an open field with fencing on the other side. The tramps make camp along that fence. Bunch of lean tos and little huts made of pallets and tarps. There's a bunch of bikes and other random things lying around the camps. I have more than a few escape options available in the event I am rolled on by cop, bull or other.

 

Does the FTRA have any distinguishing markings or patches that indicate such? The reason i ask is that it sounds like i should just avoid them altogether.

 

Oh, have you ever met, The Rambler? I dig that guys tramp tag.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

LENS

 

Okay, I hear you about the spot. Your description tells me what I want to know anyway.

 

This camp does not sound like the FTRA at all. They may come through there, stay a little while and move on, but actual FTRA jungles are usually in remote places where there aren't many people, but close to a junction or a crew change so they can easily catch out.

 

I covered the FTRA in earlier posts up the stack. These days, I don't think many of them wear any sort of colors, but in years past, the group up on the Hi-Line wore black bandanas, rolled up cowboy style, with real silver conchos closing at the neck. Those were the O.G.'s. When they moved down into the West Coast, they started wearing different colored bandanas. The FTRA group that rode the central line (the old Frisco Line) east from San Francisco wore blue bandanas closed with cheap conchos, and were called the Goon Squad, or Goonie Squad (a "goon bag" is one of those silver mylar bags that come inside of wine boxes.) The Southern California group (the Wrecking Crew) wore red bandanas with cheap conchos. They rode the old SP line east across the desert and through Texas and into the Deep South, all the way to Florida. All the FTRA guys I've met were "red bandana Wrecking Crew" guys. Nice guys, but pretty ruthless, sort of like the Hell's Angels MC or the Bandidos MC. One on one, they're easy going. Five or six FTRA's together, add alcohol, you are at serious risk to be present. Years of misbehavior and attention from law enforcement resulted in the FTRA "taking off their colors." But trust me, they are still connected.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • 2 weeks later...

KaBar i was reading the first few posts where you talked about property ownership,and how stealing is bad.i was just wondering if this is something that you have accumalated thoughts through many of your years alive?

I am a young teenager and i steal books to read to learn, you know

because like many people of my age i am a unemployed.Did you ever

resort to stealing when you were younger?

Link to comment
Share on other sites

305soul

 

I am against stealing for a number of reasons, but the biggest one is that it makes me feel ashamed. It's foolishness for me to try to scold you for stealing, but the truth is that it's a fairly big risk for very little benefit.

 

We justify things to ourselves that we know are wrong in an attempt to "make it okay," but taking something from somebody else that doesn't belong to you isn't ever going to be okay. Being in the wrong harms the way you feel about yourself. Even though you may be overtly saying "Hey, I ripped off this thing, I got over, I didn't have to pay, I'm so clever they won't ever catch me," secretly, inside every thief is thinking "What's wrong with me that I can't get what I need by earning it like everybody else does?" Or, even worse, they are thinking "I'm such a loser that I won't ever be able to have the things I want unless I steal them or take them by force. I can't compete on the same level playing field with everybody else." People with really low self esteem often steal to "get back" at a society that they see as mean, cruel, and rejecting. Kleptomaniacs (people who steal even when they don't need the things they steal) have a mental illness that is related to obsessive-compulsive-disorder (OCD.) And it often responds to the same meds that are used to treat OCD.

 

And things like books--dude, what is the Public Library for? If you cannot afford to buy the books you need, then borrow them from the Library. If you are talking school books, or college textbooks, I'm not sure what to tell you. The price of college textbooks is a big rip-off, IMHO, but they are the intellectual property of the person that wrote them. Of course, publishers and colleges jack you up for the price of them in order to pay big bucks to the professors that wrote them. One may attend college without buying the latest textbooks (buy last year's book--whatever) because the information doesn't change all that much, but life is a lot easier if you just buy the right book.

 

I am not saying "Look at me, I'm so perfect---I never stole anything." That's not true. But the things I did steal, I did not keep, and they brought me very little satisfaction in life. Worst of all, the times when somebody stole from me were very painful and I felt extremely angry and violated. No doubt, that is what the thief intended, so I try not to give him the satisfaction, but the truth is, being stolen from hurts bigtime. I've never made any secret of how I feel about it on here. I don't have much, but what I do have, I earned fair and square, and it BELONGS TO ME. Anybody tries to rip me off for it had better be ready for a serious ass fight, that's all. And since I hate being stolen from, I do not steal from others. It's wrong, and it hurts my pride to steal or to beg. I refrain from both as much as is possible. Life is too short to waste one second of it in jail. Just be honest. You'll like yourself a lot more.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

bumpski

 

alright kabar, hats off to you. i read this whole thread, although it did take me a couple of days, and it was great. i had some questions but now i have forgotten them. ill come back when i rember, but dont stop posting. and if u did think about writing a book, a autobiography is a better idea than a freight book. your life story would be much more interesting and original than a freight hopping guide. see

duffy littlejohn's freight train hoppin in america --great book.

can you make a list of videos and movies that you cant thjink up off the top of your head. ++edit-i know you have listed books and movies but an organized list woiudl be great++thanks kabar

Link to comment
Share on other sites

1HalfOfMe

 

Are you asking for a list of videos and books about trainhopping? Or my favorites, or what?

 

One of my biggest favorites is a video called "Riding the Rails." It's about young, teenaged trainhoppers during the Great Depression, and what happened to them later.

 

Go down to the library and look up "hobos," "trainhopping," "tramps," and so forth.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

hey i noticed you said at the beg. something about Montana. you live in montana? or paint there? im curious to no and im not a pig, i just visit there alot and was wondering becuase i took a trip to a bridge today saw a bunch of scawls by train bums or whatever which remineded me of this thread. email me if u dont want to repost any thing, motoxxx933@expn.com i also saw one scrawl by someguy going from Baltimore to montana!

Link to comment
Share on other sites

yea i guess just a orgainized list. it would be good just so people (me) can write it down and save for later.

i just bought two books on amazon. hobo and i for got the other one.

great tool everyone. they have railroad atlas' but not a a very cheaper price. 75 for the updated one

Link to comment
Share on other sites

I live in Houston

 

But I used to ride in Montana a lot, and I really like the state. I like Idaho and Washington State a lot too. There's just not much work up there.

 

Here's some book and video titles.

 

"Hopping Freight Trains In America", by Duffy Littlejohn ($18.80)

Zephyr Rhoades Press

P.O. Box 1999

Silver City, New Mexico 88062-1999

(505)-534-2888

dlittlejohnZRP@zianet.com

THIS IS THE NEW TRAINHOPPER'S SAFETY BIBLE.

 

"The Milk and Honey Route" 1931 Hopping in the Great Depression.

Vanguard Press, NY

 

"A Freighthopper's Guide to North America" by Daniel Leen 1992 (out of print--you might find a copy from a rare books place)

 

"Done and Been" by Gypsy Moon ($9.00)

Indiana University Press

 

"Rolling Nowhere" by Ted Conover. Pretty grim, but not inaccurate.

 

"Northern Pacific University" (poetry) by Buzz Potter

 

"The New Collected Works of Prose and Poetry of Iowa Blackie"

by Iowa Blackie, General Delivery, New Hampton, Iowa 50659

 

Any copies of "The Hobo Times" magazine that you can find. Buzz Potter published it until his death.

Indiana University Press

Link to comment
Share on other sites

thanks kabar

here are some ill add:

hobo by Ted Conover---amazon.com

 

Rolling Nowhere : Riding the Rails with America's Hoboes

by Ted Conover --amazon.com

 

Citizen Hobo: How a Century of Homelessness Shaped America

Kenneth L. Kusmer --amazon. this one is more of a history

 

Hobo : A Young Man's Thoughts on Trains and Tramping in America by Eddy Joe Cotton--amazon.com

 

here is a summary of what Hopping Freight Trains In America", by Duffy Littlejohn like kabar said, its great. "Hopping freights is not only dangerous, it's illegal," Littlejohn says, but he loves the adventurousness of it and the startling view of the country it gives. He tells you what sort of clothing is best (dark, and wear gloves), why it's easier to hop a freight in rural areas than in cities, why it's hard to find a train on Sundays and Mondays, how to know where you're going (try Rand McNally's Handy Railroad Atlas of the United States), and why railroad workers (except bulls and managers) are, in general, friendly to riders. He describes hobo jungles. He gives an insider's view of unions and characterizes various companies regarding their attitudes toward free rides (many of them look the other way, Littlejohn says, because riders are often migrant workers; the produce they harvest may end up as freight). Littlejohn gives a colorful history of railroads and how they affected cities--for instance, the "wrong side of the tracks" originally referred to where immigrants settled after the railyards were established. Finally, Littlejohn suggests where you can hop a freight in every state and most Canadian provinces, with some asides for certain cities. (In New Orleans, "get ready for some long bridge walks.")

amazon.com of course....my new favorite shopping site

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Email from Stretch And Burl at Amory, MS

 

Wed, 14 April 2004 12:05:21 -0700(PDT)

Subject: Hi

To: Kabar

 

Hey there, back in Amory after taking John John for a quick run up to Cleveland (OH) and back to kill time. We got in early Tue morning around 3AM but spent the weekend in Fulton, KY. We have been wet and cold now for 3 days and the sun has finally come out, and will stay out till Sun or Mon. Big crowd here (Amory Railroad Days) so far, EVEN ROAD HOG!!!! Train Doc (publisher of the CCG), just about everyone that came to Britt is here, but a few didn't make it. Tanner City Kid and Derail are MIA still, and Texas Mad Man and Collinwood Kid are still in route. John John and I set a new (personal) hopping record--Cleveland, Ohio to Fulton, Kentucky in NINETEEN HOURS!

Memphis is just the next Division, 5 or 6 hours where we had to walk 14 miles in the rain to the BNSF yard to catch a drag to Amory because of new cameras installed in the IC/CN Yard.

That same evening, walked another 4 or 5 miles in the rain, hunting down a 10PM train that wasn't made up where it has always been for the last six years. For some reason they built it in the Intermodal Yard! (YES, A JUNK TRAIN IN THE IM YARD!) But we found it anyway. Then, looking at the train, I realized it didn't have any AGR boxcars on it, which had me concerned, but it did have lots of running reefer cars.

She stopped on the north side of the Tom Bigbee River, about a mile and a half from the Yard, so we bailed off, in case it shot straight on through Amory, to Birmingham, in the rain. We had never bothered to look at the very last car in the string, because of the rain. We popped a a plug door boxcar and then shut the door most of the way shut until we got out of the Yard, then opened it up all the way. We walked 145 cars, both sides, but this was not the usual train. Must have been because it was Easter.

Anyway, sure as shit, the very last car was an AGR boxcar! LOL!

We saw it on the bridge as we waited for the train to cross so we could walk the bridge and cross the Tom Bigbee. And it terminated in Amory, too!

Well, my boots are still wet, and probably will be for a couple more days, even nout in the sun. We made it, though. Other than the rain, we had a very good trip to Cleveland and back.

 

Later, for now.

 

Stretch and Burl

 

Stretch and Burlington Dog K-9****

Grand Duke of the Hobos

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Join the conversation

You can post now and register later. If you have an account, sign in now to post with your account.

Guest
Reply to this topic...

×   Pasted as rich text.   Paste as plain text instead

  Only 75 emoji are allowed.

×   Your link has been automatically embedded.   Display as a link instead

×   Your previous content has been restored.   Clear editor

×   You cannot paste images directly. Upload or insert images from URL.

×
×
  • Create New...