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KaBar

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Dank Roller--

 

Back in the old days people adopted nicknames to reduce being tracked by the railroad bulls. Hardly anybody told anybody eldse their real name, so there were probably fifty guys named "Bill." To differentiate between guys with the same name, they started calling them "Tall Bill," "Texas Bill," "Philadelphia Bill," "Dollar Bill" and so on. The young guys would get tagged with a name by older tramps, usually because of some physical characteristic, like "Stretch" for a tall guy (my buddy Stretch is like 6'3"), or "Shorty" for a small guy.

 

After having a nickname got to be cool, they started naming themselves stuff. That's where names like "Highball Harry" and "Sidetrack", and stuff like that got started. Personally, I think giving yourself a cool hobo name is kind of silly. (I got "KaBar" because of an internet handle I created. I was in the Marines, and a "Ka-Bar" knife is a large combat knife I carried in the Marine Corps. Everybody armed with a pistol gets assigned a Ka-Bar knife instead of a bayonet. Guys armed with a rifle get a bayonet. I was an MOS 2111 armorer in an infantry battalion, and back then armorers got a .45 pistol and a Ka-Bar. But I worked at the battalion armory, so whenever I needed a rifle, I just checked one out temporarily.)

 

I went online talking to trainhoppers on websites, and they called me Ka-Bar because of my internet address. Then when we met face-to-face, they still called me Ka-Bar. I sure am glad I didn't pick some stupid internet name like Fartmeister or something.

 

Sometimes the children or spouses of well-known hobos adopt a version of their name. A real famous hobo, now dead, named "Connecticutt Slim" has two daughters who are retired who travel all over the U.S. in a motor home. The two women call themselves "Connecticutt Shorty" (she's very short) and "New York Maggie," (her name is Margaret and she was raised in New York.) Of course, to all the tramps, they are just "Shorty" and "Maggie." They come to many of the hobo gatherings just to hang out and see old friends who knew their father.

 

My friend "P-Dub", got his moniker from the letters "P-W," which stands for "pussy whipped." He sure does like the ladies, and they like him. Every time I see the guy at a gathering, he's shacked up with a different chick.

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i think what the roller is tryign to ask is about streaks. liek there are soem really old scribbles on trains that i see that are done with lumber craons that tend to be rather old im guessign. i guess what IM tryign to ask is did the hoppers write their names on the trains they hopped with a date nect to it..iv see things liek this..just wonderign

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Yes, that's exactly it. They streaked the train they rode in on, assuming, of course, that they had the opportunity to do so. Sometimes you'll find tramp streaks inside of a boxcar or inside a grainer porch.

 

Some very famous streaks are from railroad workers who would hit ten or twenty cars a day at work. Pretty soon, their streaks were known coast-to-coast.

 

Truthfully, though, it's not about getting to be well-known or racking up high mileage, but living the life. Genuine, 24-7 tramps are really sort of elitist in a lot of ways. You can't buy your way in, you can't get in by trying to be pals. You just get to be part of that inner circle by "being there." I am acquainted with a lot of long-legged tramps, but being on speaking terms and being in tight with them are two different things. In order to be on the inside, I'd have to be "Living the Life" 24-7. Most likely, unless I go through some drastic changes, I will never again be on the rails 24-7. I'm 54, which is getting on up there to be catching out. I have a good job that I'd hate to lose, because I'm trying to bank some retirement cash.

 

But, if all that shit went away tomorrow, I wouldn't hesitate. I'd sell everything I own, invest it all in tax-free municipal bonds and catch the first thing smokin'.

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  • 3 weeks later...

I just returned from a four-day trip to Sedaliia, MO to attend the first hobo gathering at the newly restored Katy Depot. The folks in Sedalia were very nice and welcomed us. We cooked a big "hobo stew" in a turkey fry pot over a propane burner, and sold it for $3 a bowl, plus bread and a can of soda, to help raise money for the restored Depot. Most of the people there knew very little about hobos, tramps or anything, so it was a good opportunity to explain about the old days and what railriders are doing now. Baloney Kid, from Sandwich, Ill., and an older guy who rode back in the 1950's named Kansas City Kid, or something like that, played guitar, and fiddle, and we participated in a bunch of kid's games. It was a fun day, very small-town and laid back.

While we were there we discovered that the Sedalia Katy Depot has a genuine " 'TEX' K.T." streak carved into a door frame that used to be the station master's office, probably dating from the 1920's. (This stands for "TEX" King of Tramps.) plus we found about forty or so streaks carved into the bricks on the outside of the building. I found one that said "Hobo Joe 1905." Pretty cool---grafitti done a HUNDRED YEARS AGO and still up and readable.

 

They're talking about making the gathering an annual event, if they can work out the problems about arranging for a jungle, etc.

And they paid me $100 to show up! Now that's what I call class!

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Thats awesome kabar, it reminds me about how they find graffiti in the walls of pompeii thats like thousands of years old, and its preserved by the fact that it got covered by ash in a huge volcanic explosion.

 

Anyways, im not too knowledgable on the whole hobo culture but this thread has helped immensely. I was wondering, if you havent covered it before, what the katy depot was? If youve covered it then nevermind i can always look back. But why is it so important for it to have gatherings held there?

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CACashRefund---

The Missouri, Kansas & Texas Railroad (MKT) was headquartered in Sedalia, MO back in it's early history. It was bought and sold a couple of times in the early days, and one owner renamed it the "Kansas-Texas Railroad," and it got the sobriquet "Katy" (KT), a common girl's name in the 1880's (short for Katherine.)

 

Sedalia was a major player during the Robber Baron's era. It had massive locomotive repair shops and car shops where MKT rolling stock was re-built and refurbished. It had large, luxurious hotels, one exclusively for executives, one for engineers and firemen, and one for "common laborers." These hotels were full-service, with baths, dining rooms, large kitchens, and so forth. Downtown Sedalia was (back then) crowded with businesses of all kinds, saloons and brothels. (Prostitution was not illegal in most places, neither was opium or any sort of drug, but only the "lowest" sort of men frequented such places, at least not openly. Ever see the series "Deadwood"? That's a relatively accurate depiction of the Old West, and it those days Missouri was pretty close to being the "wild frontier.")

Because Sedalia was a major rail hub, MKT built a very large, very ornate railroad station there, as a showpiece, in 1896. It stayed in operation until the 1960's, I think. The marshalling yards and all that were not far from the railroad station. Tramps and hobos probably walked up to the station from "The Yards," seeking water, information or work. Hanging around, waiting for a train, they carved their streaks into the station's brickwork with pocketknives. Most of the streaks are very neatly done, with thin letters, but cut fairly deep into the brick.

 

The Katy railroad is what is known as a "fallen flag." It is not an independent railroad any longer. It was absorbed by Union Pacific, along with Missouri Pacific and several other, smaller railroads when UP bought them up. However, since the Katy was so well known (and loved, by the people in the areas it served) it's name and renown has remained. The Katy Depot at Sedalia is probably the best preserved representation of the MKT, and if we could get Sedalia to support a hobo gathering there (probably as part of a "Sedalia Hobo Days" celebration) it would be cool. The UP mainline is only about two blocks from the Katy Depot, behind a line of trees, and the old railroad right-of-way has been turned into a hiking trail. Unfortunately, the Department of Parks and Wildlife are acting like a bunch of dicks and make a big stink anytime the Depot preservation society has a picnic or anything on DPWL land. There's always at least one jackass in every situation.

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  • 2 weeks later...

This weekend I got to meet Fatalist and Pffffft! here in Houston. Pffffft! and I spent the day touring a couple of Houston jungles and checking out railyards and lay-ups. It was hotter than shit, but we had a good time. He got a lot of shots of the jungle and some snaps of graff on passing rail cars. I understand he and Fatalist were down at the Wall of Fame on the east end of Congress Yards, downtown, and met some writers down there (I wasn't there, I had to work.) It was a good day, just really humid and hot, especially for May.

I'm hoping he'll be able to come back down here sometime and we can go catch out.

 

Pffffft!---HOPE I SEE YOU UP AT BRITT THIS AUGUST.

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i originally posted this in the strangest/craziest thing youve seen while bombing, but realized that it would probably be more relevant here...

 

this isnt as strange or crazy as some of the other stories on here, but its still worth telling. one day, several months ago i carefully slid through the small hole in a chainlink fence topped with barbed wire, and stepped out onto the trash strewn ledge about a foot and a half below, where leafless trees grew next to the deteriorating brick wall of an old industrial building whose purpose i neither knew nor cared about. i then proceeded to walk down a narrow path winding from side to side down a short wall of natural rock and onto the train tracks below. from here, i quickly ducked into the shadow of an overpass to avoid being spotted by any passerby. surrounded by rusty shopping carts, dirty condoms, and some fresh, new silver graffiti, i surveyed the natural rock cliffs which lay to either side of the tracks. i was alone and without cans, on more or less of a "reconaissance" mission, to get photos and come back sometime in the near future to paint. after standing under the overpass for a few more minutes, i dashed out into the open, to the mouth of a tunnel lying a little more than half a football field away.even in broad daylight, the tunnel was still full of shadows and darkness, and i was more than a little eager to get out to the next stretch of fresh air not far ahead. as i walked i noticed an open doorway in the side of the tunnel, with a door made of rusting sheet metal. inside, was a stairway, inky blackness, and a strange odor. i decided id come back on my way out of the tunnel. after going some ways ahead, and deciding id had enough for the day, i came back and stopped by the doorway. i went inside a little bit to see if my lighter would make a dent against the darkness, but it was no use. instead, i decided to take a flash photograph, and see how it turned out when i got home. after taking several pictures of the stairs, i wandered a few feet away to take some more photos of whatever graff i had missed coming in. all of a sudden, a stout, clean looking man is standing behind me. i turn around, suprised, ready to make a run for it. i soon realize that he's homeless, but i never wouldve guessed. hes standing by the doorway, carrying a large yellow flashlight. we start talking about graffiti, and he tells me he writes "________" . he also informs me that he lives in the dark stairway i had seen(which turns out to be an old emergency exit), and had come to investigate the flash from my camera. he invites me to come see his "place" and at first im a bit hesitant. however, i decide to go, and with a firm hand on the switchblade in my pocket, i follow him into the darkness.even his flashlight barely penetrates the sheer blackness of this place. the steps feel wet under foot, and every now and then, my foot touches some unknown object. there is an odd stench, one not of homelessness, trash, and stale urine, but instead of something closer to ammonia and other strong cleaning detergents, which i find very strange. after ascending at least 6 flights of steps, we finally reach what appears to be an alcove at the top of the steps, which is at street level. next to it is another door, which is framed in daylight that shines through the cracks in the doorway. here, there is several mattresses on the floor, some clothing and other things. my guide introduces himself as _______, and tells me that he's been living here for 10 years, completely outside the confines of the government and society.the people who maintain the housing projects next to which this emergency exit is located bring him food and water in the morning and at night and turn on the lights in the exit when it gets to be too dark. he then tells me wild stories about his drug dealing friends, the prostitutes he knows, etc. at one point he pullls the covers off his mattress to expose two needles full of heroin. after more talking i tell him i have to be on my way, and he simply unlocks the door and lets me out into the street. i walk away feeling stunned. for ten years, hes been living in there, not having to work, pay taxes, and do all the other things which the ordinary citizen does. but at the same time, hes not living in the best of conditions, barely has enough to get by on, and is a drug addict. i wonder if by trying to escape the system, he has really become more of a victim. either way, he seems content. i have not been back to those tunnels since, and i wonder whether or not i will ever go again. probably, sometime this summer, i will find myself crawling through that hole once again, down the path, and onto the tracks...

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Originally posted by GnomeToys@Jun 6 2005, 03:50 PM

That's a pretty well written little story there. I'd go back just to visit the dude, since he was friendly, maybe bring some beer & chips with.

 

word,I would be interested in seeing those photos you took also..new thread maybe?

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I've got bad news from Stretch.

 

He's back in East Cleveland, has a job and is making some money. Goes to work every morning at 0430 at a fibreglas packing factory.

 

I don't remember if I told you guys that Stretch's dog, Burlington, was the pup of another renowned rail-riding canine, Chessie. About eight or nine years ago, Stretch retired Chessie because she was getting too old to be catching out (she couldn't jump down from boxcars any more, etc.) and he set her up with a place to live with an old buddy of his in Massachusetts. Well, Chessie is in end-stage cancer. She's got tumors in her lungs and doesn't have long to live.

 

Now, Stretch tells me that he had to take Burlington to the vet for a skin infection and Burl had to get shaved all over to cool him down (Burl has a very thick coat--he's a "Northern" outdoors dog.) During the examination, the vet discovered that Burl has cancer, too. He said he thought Burl might make it six months.

 

This is a big bummer for everybody that knows Stretch and Burlington. Burl remembers people he has met even one time. He does tricks. He "talks" to Stretch, and gets excited when Stretch says "Hey, Burl, want to catch a train?" He can go take a dump on command, and holds his water for hours when they are on board a train. He carries his own food and water in a double backpack (dog food in each pouch, with a two-liter bottle of water riding on top of the dog food in each pouch.) He knows to be quiet when he and Stretch are sitting in the hole, or layed over in a yard. He is one of the most intelligent dogs I have ever encountered in my life. When Stretch scolds him, he lays down and puts his front paws over his nose.

 

I am really going to miss Burlington K-9. Stretch has streaked a million railcars "Stretch and Burlington Dog K-9." I sure hope Burl sired a lot of puppies.

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thats too bad to hear that and if they have pups im in kansas and wouldnt mind taking a roadtrip to buy 1 of those rail pups. i have been reading your posts kabar and much respect to being a marine vet...i walk these southern kansas yards alot, even sleep in them when i have to. i have seen that k-9 and burrlington on the otherside of a john easley monk. i was wondering what the k9 thing was all about now i know......i was serious on the pups let me know i know this post is late but i barely read it now....- leftoverz

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Hey, Pfffffffffft, good to hear from you! Sure, go ahead and post the pics. The only exception I'd ask is the one of the Hotel's Name, which would kind of blow the spot, LOL. Otherwise, I'm cool. Did you photoshop them all and remove identifiable faces, etc? This one ^ looks kind of wierd, like a guy with no face, lol. Next time you're down here, give me a call, and me and you and 83 will go kick it or ride a train or something.

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  • 3 weeks later...
  • 2 weeks later...
  • 3 weeks later...

kabar, you ARE the man. i've read a lot of this thread and agree with 99% of what you've said...personally, i'd have a hard time recommending trains as a hobby, but wtf, everyone's got a right to do their thing. i may have missed it, but do you use a cc? you seem like you may not need to, but a lot of these young bucks could benefit from it...plus, i haven't hopped since the 90's and i was wondering how things were these days regarding security. it seems like i see a lot more 53's and less unlocked boxcars these days, but i know kids are still getting around. when i ask them, they just shrug, and say very little. what's your take? pm me if you want.

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yo kabar i have a question about hopping frieghts with shipping boxes on em. the stacked boxes. is there room enough to fit in between the boxes or is that just not going to work. my other option is hoppin a coal train and i dont want to get that filthy again if i dont have to.

 

if this is already addressed, just tell me to shut up or something.

 

thanks man,

Magic Johnson

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