Chapter XI: The Hobo as a Citizen

Where are we to place the hobo as a citizen? What is his actual status as a member of society or as a functioning unit in the state? Where does he stand in relation to organized society and its laws and its mores?

The public dismisses these questions by assigning the hobo and the tramp to the class of “undesirables.” This reaction of the public is, of course, emotional and superficial, based partly on the shabby and unkempt appearance of the men of the road and partly on their reputation as beggars, vagrants, drunkards, and petty thieves. Any study of the homeless man as a citizen must go farther and take into account such factors as nativity, naturalization, and patriotism; legal residence and the right and opportunity to vote; obedience to law; and his political aspirations.

NATIVITY, NATURALIZATION, AND PATRIOTISM

Students of hobos and tramps have been struck by the fact that the great majority of homeless men are native-born Americans. Mrs. Solenberger found that of 1,000, 623 were native born. Of the 400 tramps interviewed by the writer during the summer of 1921, only 61 were foreign-born and 23 of these had taken out naturalization papers. From these and other studies it appears that from 60 to 90 per cent of hobos and tramps are native born.

The tramp is an American product. The foreign-born in this group are chiefly of the older immigration. Among these, Englishmen, proverbial as “globe-trotters,” are conspicuous. The number of homeless men from the newer immigration is small, and the individuals who are found in the tramp and hobo group seem often out of place.

One test of patriotism is military service. The writer found that of the 400 he interviewed, 92 had seen military service. This figure is high, since there were only 183 men of the whole group between the ages of twenty and thirty-four. These men were listed in 1921 and would include many who were not in the draft age when the allotments were drawn in 1918. There were of the 400, 58 who were probably under the draft age in 1918. When we consider the proportion of physically and mentally unfit, it seems that this figure is high.[55]

THE HOBO AND HIS VOTE

What is the status of the hobo as a voter? He seldom remains in one place long enough to acquire legal residence. His work, because of its seasonal character, often takes him away from his legal residence just at the time when he should be there to register or vote. Whether he has a desire to cast his ballot or not, he is seldom able to do so.

A canvass of thirty-five Hobohemian hotels in Chicago has shown that about a third of the guests are voters. In March, 1923, there were 3,029 registered voters from these hotels, which have a total capacity of 9,480. Many of these, though they are in the city only in winter or for a few weeks at a time, manage to maintain a residence here and, if they are in the city during an election, they vote.

Charges are even made that tramps and hobos sell their votes, that they often engage in “repeating.” There is not as much ground for such charges as one would expect. The average tramp does not have the courage to take the chances that the “repeater” must expect to run. He realizes also that he is always under more or less suspicion even when he is going straight, and this serves as a brake.

Homeless men as a group make much of the fact that they are excluded from the ballot, and they remind all who have the patience to listen that the exclusion is unjust because they perform an important and legitimate function in the labor world. They seem to protest against their exclusion more than to demand the ballot. One man said that he did not know if he would vote if he had a chance, “but it’s the principle of the thing.”

The International Brotherhood Welfare Association has repeatedly stood for some form of universal suffrage that would permit migratory workers to vote, regardless of the length of their residence in a community.

During the latter part of May, 1922, a convention of the
Farmer-Labor Party was held in Chicago. Certain members of
the hobo group failed in the attempt to get a resolution
through the convention in favor of giving the vote to
migratory workers. Certain delegates feared that the
hobo was too irresponsible to use the ballot. The farmer
element in the Farmer-Labor Party resented the idea of
giving support to the tramp group by whom they had been
harassed so much in the harvest fields. Nor is the I.W.W.
particularly interested in “votes for the hobos,” because
in their opinion the ballot is at best an indirect method
of accomplishing what can be easier secured by direct
action.

Forty-eight of the 400 homeless men studied by the writer claimed to have voted in the presidential election of 1920.

56. One of the men interviewed in this study said: “I
happened to drop into Salt Lake the last day of the
registration so I got my name on the dotted line. I swore I
had been in the state a year. They couldn’t prove I wasn’t,
so it passed. I’d been in ten or fifteen states that year.
Well, when election came I was working in Bingham. My boss
was short of help and didn’t want me to lay off to vote,
so I quit and went to Salt Lake. Got there just before the
polls closed.”

One man said that he beat his way 1,000 miles to cast his ballot. Most of the 48, however, had voted because at election time they were living in or near their legal residence. What was the attitude of the 352 who did not vote? The following are the reasons given (with reference to 1920 election):[56]

No desire to vote and no legal residence 28
Having legal residence but no desire to vote 54
No legal residence but desire to vote 129
Under twenty-one 88
Aliens 38*
In military service 9
Disfranchised 2
Not known 4
---
Total 352

* Sixty-one foreign-born in 400; 23 naturalized.

There were 28 men both ineligible to vote and indifferent to the ballot. The group of 54 who had no desire to vote included men who were at home, or near their legal residence, and could have voted had they been interested. The two listed as disfranchised were both men who had been dishonorably discharged from the navy. Both were under twenty-one and had enlisted under the pressure of wartime enthusiasm. One of these was not interested in voting and the other said that the vote was a joke anyway.

THE HOMELESS MAN AND THE LAW

The migratory worker is not saddled with responsibility for law and order. As he makes his way about the country, he is unincumbered. He has nothing to lose and nothing to protect but his person, and that he protects best by constantly moving. The homeless man has no interest in common with the settled man of the community who has attachments and property, and at whose expense he often lives. The migratory worker, for a time, may be physically a part of a community, but he actually does not become absorbed into its social life. The wanderer who fails to win a place in the life of a community often takes his own course. This course is sometimes in harmony with the interests of the community, but more often counter to them, and he fails under the surveillance of the law.

To the tramp and the hobo the police are the guardian angels of organized society, created to protect the community against criminals and migrants. To him there are two varieties of police--civil and private. The uniformed upholder of the law, the civil police, is given the uncomplimentary epithet, “harness bull.” The plain-clothes men are called “dicks,” “fly cops,” and “stool pigeons.” The private police who protect the property of the railroad are held in even lower contempt.

THE PRIVATE POLICE

The chief job of the “dicks” is to keep the “bos” off the trains. The private police are unpopular, not only among homeless men, but also among the employees of the railroads. Brakemen and switchmen will often aid tramps in their effort to avoid the police. Railroad police must often contend with a lack of co-operation by the civil police. The town police, or “town clown” as he is called, may order the tramps to leave on the “next train,” while the railroad police may be making every effort to prevent their riding the trains. The town police are not anxious to fill the jail; they prefer that the transients move on; they reason that the railroad should take away what the railroad brought.

The railroad policeman shows results, not by the number of convictions as the civil police, but by his ability to keep at a minimum the number of offenses against railroad property. His endeavor is to put fear into the hearts of all trespassers on the right-of-way. He becomes a hunter of men, not to seize and detain them, but to pursue and terrorize them. He is to the railroad property what the scarecrow is to the cornfield.

Railroad police sometimes drive men off fast-moving trains by throwing stones or shooting at them. Not infrequently they catch and maltreat a tramp; however, they are seldom able to get hold of a veteran tramp. The inexperienced man or the boy is more likely to be caught. These means of putting fear into men do not stop tramping. As they become fearful of the railroad “bull,” they become more cautious, and the “bull’s” problem is increasingly difficult.

WHAT THE TRAMP THINKS OF THE PRIVATE POLICE

To migrants the railroad is “the tramp’s traditional highway.” The tramp, however, expects opposition from the railroad police and even from the train crews; nevertheless he measures his success as a “boomer” by his ability to outwit this opposition. Encounters with the railroad police are a favorite theme of conversation in the “jungles” and along the “stem.”

One man tells of being held in Hutchinson, Kansas, on suspicion:

57. A bunch of us came in on a freight and started up town.
It was about midnight and the moon was shining. We were
sneaking along the shade of a row of box cars. A couple of
men halted us and ordered us to come out into the light. I
had a notion to run but one of the other fellows said they
had “gats” and we’d better take no chances. It was a good
thing we didn’t run because we found out that a couple of
men had escaped from the jail. All the police and a lot of
the citizens had been drafted to find them. Most of them
carried guns and nothing would have suited them better than
to have had some one to shoot at.

They rounded up about ten “bos” out of the yards and took
us to a room in the depot where they held us for about an
hour till one of the guards came from the jail. He did
not see the escaped men in the crowd so we were turned
loose. The railroad “bull” ordered us to walk out of town.
We walked out a ways and then sneaked back and caught a
freight.

I think we got off easy. I had a buddy once who was held a
week until the police could get a picture. He was caught by
the railroad “bull” and turned over to the “town clown.”
They are always sorry if they can’t get something on a “bo”
they hold.

Youths in their first adventures on the road accept with zest the conflict with the private police. A student who made a practice of “working the harvest” each summer gives the following statement:

58. My first experience with a bull was at Marshalltown,
Iowa. I had been selling books up near Mason City, Iowa,
and after three weeks of that loathsome occupation, I threw
my prospectus into the ditch and started for home. Late
one night I caught an express train on the Northwestern
from Ames, Iowa, bound for Chicago, and rode from there
to Marshalltown; unfortunately the train pulled into the
station very slowly and the long string of lights on the
station platform shed a great deal of light on the train. I
started to get off when a rough voice cursing loudly told
me to get off on that side. He took me by the shoulder and
asked me what in hell I was doing riding on that train.
“Don’t you know,” he said, “what we do with fellows who
ride the front ends of these trains?” He gave me a kick and
told me to get out of the yards. It was my first encounter
with the “bulls” and I have since learned that “bull”
tactics are very much the same.

Another time I crawled off the train into the waiting arms
of a Rock Island “bull” in Council Bluffs, Iowa. He showed
me his star and searched me over carefully, feeling every
lump in my clothing. During the search he said, “Will you
give me all I find on you?” The question rather startled me
but I quickly replied, “Yes.” Finding nothing, he seemed
disappointed and said, “I can’t understand why you haven’t
more money on you! What are you, anyway?” I told him I was
a college student looking for work. “The hell you are!”
he sneered, “you’re a Weary Willie, now get out of here,
quick.”

At Grand Island some fifty of us tried to ride a
merchandise freight out of the yards, when an energetic
“bull” pulled himself out of a car and waved a revolver
wildly warning all not to get on. It was a long freight and
the men strung themselves up and down the track the full
length of it. In spite of his efforts, several got aboard.
My companion and I were quite close to him and made no
effort to get on.

My next encounter occurred at Bureau, Illinois, a division
point on the Rock Island. There were four of us on the
tender (behind the engine), my room mate and I and two lads
who had jumped on some miles down the line. They had been
jumping on and off and having a good time generally. Both
of them had on white shirts and could be easily recognized
by the train men. At Bureau a rough looking “bull” poked
his head over the tender, waved a gun, cursed madly and
told us to get down from there. We were lying flat on one
corner and I did not believe he had seen us. The two boys
did as they were told while I held my room mate down and
told him not to move. I heard him swearing at the boys as
the train pulled out.

With a companion I left a Rock Island freight one afternoon
to get a drink of water. We came back to see our train
far up the track toward Des Moines. I noticed by my table
that an express train would soon be in. My companion was a
long, lean individual, a bluffing, blustering type probably
weighing about 175 pounds. A “bull” was waiting for us at
Valley Junction, just outside of Des Moines. He pulled us
off and marched us out in front of all the passengers and
into the station. We both noticed that we had climbed a
mail train and that our future was not very bright. The
station agent was not in and I sized Mr. “Bull” up as he
searched us. He was a young fellow, not over twenty-five
and did not look nearly as hard as he talked. My companion
was as pale as a sheet and would say nothing. I talked to
him as best I could, and after scaring us to the best of
his ability he finally turned us loose, actually buying us
a ticket on the auto bus to Des Moines. He acted almost
human toward us.

A man, prominent in Hobohemia as a soap-boxer, recites this experience out of a great number that he has had with railroad and other private police.

59. I was traveling in Indiana with a man by the name of
Sullivan, known around the country as “Sully.” We got off
at Flora, a railroad town in Indiana. It was cold and the
town was “hostile” because so many “bos” had been there
that the people were hardened to them. We knew better than
to hang around the railroad yards so we decided to go out
of town a ways and build a fire to keep warm while we
waited for a train. We started out but Sully decided to
return and learn from the switchman when a train would be
leaving. I said that I would go out along the track and
build a wind break with some old ties and make a fire.

I dragged some ties together and had the wind break up by
the time Sully returned. I had the fire going too and was
taking off my shoes. I had stepped in some water while
dragging ties and my feet were wet and cold.

Everything went fine for about half an hour. I was drying
my shoes and socks and Sully and I were talking about where
we were going and what to do. It was at the time of the
Steel Strike, and Sully was planning on going up there to
get a job as a “scab herder.” He said that by that means he
would get in with the company and that he could work some
“sabotage” in the interest of the workers. At that time I
was traveling and selling literature, and holding street
meetings in the interests of the I.B.W.A.

All of a sudden something hit me in the back between the
shoulder blades. I looked around quickly and there were two
“bulls.” We were on railroad property and I knew we were
in for it. Sully ducked and went over the fence. I had my
shoes off and couldn’t run. One of them gave me another tap
on the back with a black jack. “What are you here for?” “I
am drying my shoes,” was the only answer I could think of.
As I hurried to get my shoes on one of them slapped me on
the side of the head. I jumped and ran while they cursed me
and told me never to let them catch me again. I met Sully
an hour later and together we cursed all railroad “bulls”
as cowards and sneaks.

Sometime after that I was told by a friend that Sully was
an employee of the Pinkerton agency. I did not believe it
but before a year was out I heard it from two or three
sources. I made an effort to find out and I learned it
was true; that he was in their employ at the time we got
chased. Then it came to me why he went back to talk to the
switchmen and how he got away without being hit. He was
traveling with me because he was trying to get a line on me
as an agitator.

These stories are typical of those that any experienced tramp can tell.

The private police “talks by hand” because it is the most practical method at his command. The argument of the club coincides most admirably with the mood he is in when on duty searching trains and keeping trespassers off railroad property. He is a hunter and the tramp is his prey. If it is a game to the police, it is no less so to the tramp. One lad who had been caught a time or two said: “I get a lot of ‘kick’ out of riding trains out of a place when I know the ‘dicks’ are trying to keep me off.”

When a town has a railroad policeman who is “hard,” the fact is soon noised about. A few years ago, Galesburg, Illinois, was known throughout the country for the “bad” colored policeman who guarded the yards. The hobo who could tell a story of an encounter with the big “nigger bull” had an exploit to be proud of. For some time Green River, Wyoming, boasted a “hard bull” known to the “floating fraternity” as “Green River Slim.” As the reputation of a “bad” policeman travels ahead, so the information about his tactics and methods. Where he may be found, how avoided, how he watches the trains, are usually common knowledge to the average “bo” before he reaches a town.

ATTITUDE OF THE PRIVATE POLICE

The _Hobo News_ for April, 1922, reprinted an article “The Hobo; a Real Problem to the Railroad,” by T. T. Kelihor, chief special agent of the Illinois Central Railroad. The article was given space in the _News_ in order that the hobos might see how the “bulls” regarded them. It was followed by a caustic criticism from the editor who charged that the writer “like the rest of his fraternity cannot distinguish between Hobos and Bums and Tramps and Yeggs.”

The railroads of this country are the chief sufferers from
this cancerous social growth. There is no property right or
other rights of the railroad that the modern hobo feels
called upon to consider or respect. Millions of dollars’
worth of railway property and merchandise in transit are
destroyed and stolen annually by this class. The actual
value of merchandise stolen is only a small part of the
loss of merchandise in trains.

The average hobo realizes that he is not provided with
means of carrying away a large amount of bulky goods.
Consequently when hobos enter a merchandise car, they
break open a great many cases and dump or throw out the
contents on the floor in searching for small, compact,
valuable goods that they can carry off concealed about
their persons. It often happens that they will not take
more than $50.00 value in valuable articles, but they will
destroy and damage $500.00 worth of goods by destroying the
original containers and soiling the contents by trampling
on them on the dirty floor of the car and otherwise
damaging them.

The amount of property the tramp actually steals and destroys is not known. He probably is blamed for more damage than he does. Those who speak for the hobo class claim that most of the goods stolen from cars is taken by train crews who shield themselves by pointing to the tramp, who is already an outlaw as far as the railroad is concerned, because he steals rides. Aside from the loss of property, Mr. Kelihor calls attention to the great loss of life attributed to tramping.

The loss of life and limb on account of hobos riding trains and trespassing on the right-of-way, and the consequent financial and economic loss to the country and the railroads, is appalling. The reports for all railroads during 1919 show:

Trespassers killed 2,553
Trespassers injured 2,658
-----
Total 5,211

And during 1920:

Trespassers killed 2,166
Trespassers injured 2,362
-----
Total 4,528

During 1921, on the Illinois Central and the Yazoo and
Mississippi railroads, 98 trespassers were killed and 221
injured.

How many of these persons killed were actually hobos, perhaps even the railroads could not say. To the railroad officials anyone is a trespasser on railroad property who is not a patron or an employee. On the other hand, all the instances of tramps killed or injured on the railroad are not recorded.

In a communication of August 2, 1922, to the Homeless Man Committee, W. P. Riggs, chief special agent of the American Express Company, says in part:

On our more important exclusive trains we have inspectors
employed to ride them for the purpose of keeping tramps and
other unauthorized persons off such trains. As in the past
we have suffered serious loss through such parties breaking
into our sealed cars and robbing them. There have also been
instances where parties under the guise of tramps beating
their way around the country turned out to be real bandits,
who would at the opportune time hold up the mail clerks and
messengers.

The tramp situation is the worst in this section during the
spring, summer, and fall; yet we also have more or less
trouble with them in winter months.

Generally speaking, we do not receive much assistance from
civil authorities in combatting tramps.

J. H. Hustin, Jr., superintendent of property protection for the New York Central Railroad, writes the committee as follows:

It is the endeavor of our police officers to keep the tramp
off our right-of-way. Many of our freight trains on the
Western territory are protected by police officers enroute
between terminals, and it is part of their duty to keep
such train riders off our trains. Usually the tramp is
placed under arrest and taken before the local authorities
for disposition.

During the spring and fall we experience most of our
difficulties with train riders, especially in connection
with the opening and closing of navigation.

In general, we receive the co-operation of the city
authorities. When business is quiet and a large number of
men are out of work, we obtain little direct assistance
from the local police and courts; while, when business is
good and there is little unemployment, such co-operation is
very satisfactory.

THE CIVIL AUTHORITIES AND THE TRAMP

The average man on the street, or the average housewife, sees in the tramp either a parasite or a predacious individual. The average man may admit that there are many migratory men who would work, but he feels that most of them will not, and that they have neither permanent habits nor good intentions; they need to be watched. If the public opinion decrees that the town needs to be protected against tramps, it is the duty of the police to do it. There seems to be a relation between the pressure that the police bring to bear on the tramp and the pressure that the tramps impose upon the community which is reflected in the pressure the residents place on the police. In towns where vagrancy has become a problem, the police are very energetic in keeping down the number of apparently idle men.

In small towns, especially railroad towns, through which many tramps move, the police are “hostile.” A policeman in a Wyoming town on the Union Pacific Railroad asserts: “We’ve got to be hard on these fellows or they will eat us out of house and home in a week.” In the larger towns the police are sporadic in their harshness. Men of the road will ask one another about the attitude of the police in certain cities. “Omaha was good the first part of the winter,” reported a man in a circle about a camp fire, “I think I’ll go to Chi this winter if I don’t go to the Coast. I heard they were pretty easy on them there last winter.” Again, “I was in Chicago the most of the winter. They are all right there if you stay on the ‘stem.’” “How has K. C. been lately? I haven’t been there for five years.”

The average hobo will often avoid certain towns because he has heard that the “bo” will not be well received. He will sometimes go to a town even when he has heard of its drastic method of treating the transients. A “hard” police force and a drastic policy of repression do not keep tramps away. It selects out those who are willing to run the risk. Timid and inexperienced men are kept away, but the daring and veteran tramps who cause the police the most trouble are not so readily frightened off.

The police do not regard the tramp as a serious offender. If he steals, it is generally for something to eat or to wear. Every man on the road steals potatoes or green corn from the nearby fields, or fruit from the neighboring orchard, or chickens that stray within reach of the jungle.

Tramps will boast about what they will do when times get hard and cold weather crowds them. “I won’t starve. I worked all summer, and I won’t go hungry this winter.” This man was “broke” in spite of a summer’s hard labor in the harvest fields. His earnings quickly went for drink. He did get hungry, and his clothes were torn to tatters before spring, but he did not break in any windows as he had threatened. There are “crooks” among the tramps, but not so many as might be supposed. The average tramp does not possess the courage to be a first-class crook.

Warden Wesley Westbrook, of the Cook County jail, supports this estimate of the tramp as an offender:

I am convinced that the tramp does not have the courage to
be a criminal. He will steal something to eat or wear, and
he may steal a door mat or some article he may sell for a
quarter to get a coffee-an’; or, if he is drinking, to get
the price of a pint of whiskey. But tramps do not become
criminal in the serious sense. They make noise and threats
sometimes but I have found them an easy group to get along
with. It takes considerable courage to break into a house
or to hold a person up and the tramp will not do this. He
seems to think that he can get a living easier and with
less risk.

But whether a major offender or not, the fact is that the homeless man is almost always liable to arrest as a vagrant. He is marked as a potential offender. He always faces the possibility of being arrested on suspicion. Where the ex-convict is harassed by the authorities because they have his record, the tramp is often held because they do not have his record. Often migrants are taken from freight trains and transported many miles to the scenes of some offense only to be turned loose. Often they are held for days in local jails until they can prove an alibi or their identity can be established. For them there is no redress.

The status of the homeless man in the courts is not high. Again and again men are arraigned before the judge for vagrancy, fighting, drunkenness, begging, petty stealing, and other minor offenses. Any policeman can walk along West Madison Street any day and see some man or perhaps a dozen who could be arrested on some charge. If all policemen did this the jails would be full and the police courts in which these cases are tried would be continually overflowing. Only the most conspicuous cases are arrested. Those are numerous enough to keep an average judge busy in an average police court.

The judge who sits in the Desplaines Street police court, where more tramps are arraigned than in any other court in Chicago, faces sometimes as many as 100 men whose cases must be disposed of within a few hours. One morning the investigator visited Judge LaBuy’s court in the Desplaines Street station and saw more than fifty cases of vagrancy, disorderly conduct, drunkenness, etc., disposed of in less than half an hour. There was little material at hand by which the judge could arrive at a just decision, consequently he disposed of the cases with only that evidence that was apparent. Apparently neither the needs of the individual were being met nor the demands of justice satisfied.[57]

The experiences of the tramp or hobo in the police court do not increase his respect for the law and the administration of justice. He finds the administration of justice a mechanical process. At the points where the law touches his life it has lost every trace of the human touch unless it be the brutal “third degree” or the traditional “sixty days.” The courts sometimes put fear into his heart but they do not reform him.

What status as a citizen does the hobo wish? His attitude toward the police and his reaction toward the civil authorities that represent organized society seem to be tempered with antipathy. Most of the songs he sings are songs of protest. The organizations to which he allies himself are antagonistic to things as they are.

In many ways, the migratory worker is “a man without a country.” By the very nature of his occupation he is deprived of the ballot, and liable when not at work to arrest for vagrancy and trespassing. The public ignores him generally, but now and again pities or is hostile to him. With no status in organized society, he longs for a classless society where all inequalities shall be abolished. In the I.W.W. and other radical organizations, he finds in association with restless men of his own kind the recognition everywhere else denied him.

FOOTNOTES:

[55] It must be remembered that the 400 include tramps in transit who are, perhaps, the better and most fit of all the types. At least there would be in such a group a greater number of able-bodied men than in any 400 selected at random in the “stem” of one of our cities. Again, 400 is not a sufficient number to permit more than a tentative conclusion.

[56] From an unpublished study by the author of 400 tramps, Document 115.

[57] Unpublished Document 80.