Becoming A Bum

Charley crouched by the tree. The grass was damp and either a possum or a coon was rustling around in the branches above him. It was pretty dark out still, but hopefully it would get a little lighter before a train came along. He figured there had to be a first time for everything, and that this was going to be his first time hoboing on a train. Charley also imagined that a farmer like him was big enough and strong enough to handle whatever came his way. The farm life was all he had known. City ways were unfamiliar, and Charley had absolutely no experience with the hobo existence. Soon this farmer was going to find out first-hand about the vagabond life he had only read about in newspaper stories.

While Charley waited and kept an eye out all around, he got to thinking. Remembering his good fortune to have a strong family, he realized that he’d probably run into some fellas who didn’t have nobody, so staying quiet about his family might be a good idea. He didn’t want anyone getting jealous. Charley would have to find private places to write to Lena, and a secret place to keep her letters. Not too many of these guys would be getting much mail, so keeping his put away would be best. Work, sleep, and eat, that would be his life in the wheat fields. Making friends was not the purpose for this journey. Charley’s purpose was to earn money to keep from losing his farm on the auction block like so many others in these desperate times. And, of course, money to rebuild the farmhouse.

Then he heard it. The hum, the rattle, the whistle. A train was coming in from the east. Lena had probably driven past it going the opposite way. Highway 6 ran right along the rails on the way back to Des Moines. The time was here to put his plan into action. Lena would be fine on her own; he had to get going and do his part. He stood up, gathering all his things. Lena had gone to a great deal of trouble to pack each item where he could easily find it.

There he went again, thinking about Lena when he should have been figuring out how to get on that train that was coming! That’s when he saw a pair of shadows walking toward him. He put down his pack and stood tall.

“Hey, there,” one said.

“Hey,” Charley replied.

“Goin’ on the train?” asked the other shadow.

“I’m gonna give it a go, I’m aimin’ to get to Kearney. Heard this train goes straight there.” Charley wondered if he was giving them too much talk.

“We’re goin’ there, too. Ya reckon to ride with us? We ain’t no drinkers or bums. We’s brothers from St. Paul. Tryin’ to help our folks out.”

Charley knew that these guys could just be making up a sob story to get him alone. He decided to give them a test.

“I’ll go in with you two fellas, if you can tell me what the good Lord made on the fifth day of creation.”

“What?”

“If ya know yer Bible, I’ll throw in with ya. If ya don’t, be on yer way. I don’t want no trouble,” Charley tried to sound calm. He was getting nervous wasting this time talking, when he should be seeing about getting on the train that was getting closer and closer. “Well, do ya know or not? Don’t be wasting time I ain’t got.”

The shorter shadow said, “That would be the critters. God made the goats and pigs and elephants, that’s what he done made on day five. Is ya satisfied now? We ain’t got all day to git on that train, ya know.”

Charley was surprised but relieved they had the right answer. As they stepped closer, the two appeared to be not much older than Harley.

“Well, let’s go then,” he said. “Did you two get here on a train? How’s this work? I ain’t never done it, and I ain’t aimin’ to get kilt doin’ it,” Charley admitted. “I’m a whole bunch older than you two boys, but I’m pretty fit from years on the farm. Heck, I got a boy at home about yer age, and I don’t have no trouble doin’ the same as him. Just lead the way and I’ll keep up, don’t worry!”

So, the two younger men led the way. Charley followed them to the far side of a little tar-paper shack on the other side of the tracks. They explained that they had to jump up on the side of the train that was opposite of the station. They would be less likely to be seen by the stationmaster, or the men loading and unloading freight.

“This early in the morning, at most trains, there ain’t no bulls around. That’s what they call the toughs that the stationmasters hire to chase us away. They must not like to git up early like us hobos,” ventured the tallest boy. He seemed to be the older of the two.

“I know about the bulls, but do we get on the train when it stops, or do we get on it after it gits a goin’?” asked Charley.

“It depends,” said the younger brother. “If they are unloading something, we have to wait until they get done, and sometimes after they start the train moving. Too many people around to take the chances. Those bulls have nearly beat some men to death, from what we hear, so we sure don’t want to cross paths with them.”

“So,” Charley asked, “we are just gonna hide behind this shack, wait ‘til the coast is clear, and jump on a car?”

“That’s ‘bout it.”

They stood behind the shack, each one taking turns watching what was going on. The train was not too long, only about twenty cars or so. Most were boxcars, a few others were empty grain cars, and three or four were flatbeds with cargo strapped down on them. All of the unloading was taking place on the station side of the train, so the St. Paul boys were right about that part. There were very few men who came over on the side where they were watching. Charley started to figure this wasn’t near as hard as people made it out to be.

One of the boys said, “Looks like there’s still a passle of them over there by the train. We is probably gonna have to wait until the dang thing starts rollin’.”

They all went around the back of the shack again, and the two boys explained to Charley how it was going to work. They would start now and begin walking towards the front of the train, but stay in the shadows. They would wait close to the few front cars, looking for ones they thought would be easy to get on, and better to stay in. If they got on the wrong car, they might have to climb up on top of it, and ride there. That would be bad. It would be uncomfortable and they would be more easily seen unless they laid down the whole time. It got mighty windy and pretty cool up there once the train got going full speed.

Charley was going to get to the wheat fields no matter what it took, so he readied himself for anything. As the three men were standing up close to the front, the men who had been loading started leaving from the other side of the train. He could tell because he couldn’t see their legs anymore. It got real quiet. Then someone on the station platform, way back there, yelled.

The train started rolling. The boys started running. Charley followed. They were fast, but he kept up pretty good. His packages were bouncing and he had to keep tossing the straps back over his shoulder, but he stayed with them. The train was moving faster, but he knew he could get on it if he got close enough.

“That car, the one with the open door, about three cars back! Go for it when it gets up to us!” yelled the tall brother. In a short second, the tall brother threw his tote in the car and grabbed the edge. The short brother ran up next and his brother grabbed his arm and yanked him up. Charley pushed harder but the train was going faster, too. This was it! He took his bag off his back and tossed it at the brothers. The little one caught it and the big one reached out his whole arm.

“Come on, old man…come on! You are comin’ with us!”

Charley lurched at the boy’s arm and felt a vise-like grip on his forearm. The younger brother grabbed his other arm, and they pulled him off the ground.

“Kick one leg up! Kick one leg up!” they hollered in unison.

He kicked one leg up. Charley was on the train. He was a wheat hobo, on his way to Nebraska to earn enough money to keep his farm and build a new home for his family.