Chapter II: The Jungles: the Homeless Man Abroad

In the city, under ordinary circumstances, the homeless man gathers with his kind. Even so he is very much alone and his contacts with his fellows are relatively formal and distant.

City life is interesting but full of danger. Even in a world where the conditions of life are so elementary, prudence dictates a certain amount of reserve and hence formality and convention in the relations of men. The flophouse and the cheap hotel compel promiscuity, but do not encourage intimacy or neighborliness. On the outskirts of cities, however, the homeless men have established social centers that they call “jungles,” places where the hobos congregate to pass their leisure time outside the urban centers. The jungle is to the tramp what the camp ground is to the vagabond who travels by auto. It has for the hobo, perhaps, greater significance, since it becomes a necessary part of his daily life. The evening camp fire for the tourist, on the contrary, is a novelty merely, an experience but not a necessity.

LOCATION AND TYPES OF JUNGLES

Jungles are usually located in close proximity to a railroad division point, where the trains are made up or where trains stop to change crews and engines. Sometimes they are located near a “tank town,” where occasional stops are made for water or fuel. Not infrequently they are near the intersection of railroad lines. In the South, and on the West Coast, jungles are often located along the highways. This is due to the fact that many men go South in winter not to work but to escape the rigors of the northern climate. The railroad for the time being has no attraction for them and they are content to stroll abroad, seeing the country. In the West, where men frequently carry bedding and cooking equipment, they can camp anywhere. It is easier for them, therefore, to leave the railroad and venture along the highways.

Accessibility to a railroad is only one of the requirements of a good jungle. It should be located in a dry and shady place that permits sleeping on the ground. There should be plenty of water for cooking and bathing and wood enough to keep the pot boiling. If there is a general store near by where bread, meat, and vegetables may be had, so much the better. For those who have no money, but enough courage to “bum lumps,” it is well that the jungles be not too far from a town, though far enough to escape the attention of the natives and officials, the town “clowns.”

Jungle camps may be divided into two classes--the temporary and the permanent, or continuous. Temporary jungles are merely stop-over or relay stations inhabited intermittently by the men of the road. Men temporarily stranded in a town usually seek a secluded spot at the edge of a village, not too far from the railroad, where they may while away the time without being molested. Men on the road look for places where other men preceding them have camped. There they are likely to find pots and kettles in which to cook food or wash clothes. At points where trains stop frequently, making it possible for men to get away at any time, the population of a temporary jungle is likely to be larger and more permanent.

The continuous or permanent jungles are seldom deserted, at least in summer. There is usually someone there to keep the fire burning and usually there are men or boys occupied at various tasks--cooking, washing or boiling clothes, shaving, sewing, bathing, and reading.

Women are often found in the areas of the cities where the homeless men congregate but not in the jungles. Here is an institution where the hobo is his own housewife. He not only cooks his own food, but has even invented dishes that are peculiar to jungle life. Chief among these is “mulligan” stew. “Mulligan,” or “combination,” is a “throw together” of vegetables and meat. There are certain ideal mixtures of vegetables and meat, but the tramp makes “mulligan” from anything that is at hand. Onions, potatoes, and beef are the prime essentials. Some men become adept at frying and roasting over camp fires.

The hobo who lives in the jungles has proved that he can become domesticated without the aid of women. He has established the habit of keeping his clothes and person clean. It is not difficult to select from a group of transients the men who have just come from the jungles. Their clothes will be clean and even bear evidence of jungle sewing. Overalls that have seen service will be bleached almost white from numerous washings. The hobo learns here the housewife’s art of keeping pots clean and the camp in order. The man who cannot, or will not, learn these few elementary principles of housekeeping is likely to fare ill in the jungle.

If it is a warm day some men will be sleeping. They may have been riding trains all night or have found the night too cold for sleep. A daily paper from an adjoining town may be going the rounds. There may be newspapers from different cities brought in by men traveling different directions. Travelers meeting this way have much of common interest to talk about and conversation is enlivened with discussions of questions of concern to “bos.” The jungle is always astir with life and movement, and the hobo enters into this life as he does no other. Here he turns his back on the world and faces his fellows, and is at ease.

Absolute democracy reigns in the jungle. The color line has been drawn in some camps, but it is the general custom, and especially in the North, for Negroes, Mexicans, and whites to share the same jungle. The jungle is the melting pot of trampdom.

The average man of the road has had a variety of experience and not a little adventure. In the jungles there is always an audience for anyone who wants to talk, whether of his thoughts, his experiences, or his observations. There is plenty of opportunity to tell stories. The art of telling a story is diligently cultivated by the “bos” in the assemblies about the fire. This vagabond existence tends to enrich the personality and long practice has developed in some of these men an art of personal narrative that has greatly declined elsewhere. Many of them develop into fascinating _raconteurs_ in the literal as well as the literary sense of the term. Talk in the jungle is of the open road and the day to come, and in that there is sufficient matter to occupy them.

Jungle populations are ever changing. Every hour new faces appear to take the place of those that have passed on. They come and go without ceremony, with scarcely a greeting or “fare-you-well.” Every new member is of interest for the news he brings or the rumors that he spreads. Each is interested in the other so far as he has something to tell about the road over which he has come, the work conditions, the behavior of the police, or other significant details. But with all the discussion there is seldom any effort to discuss personal relations and connections. Here is one place where every man’s past is his own secret.

Only in the case of very young boys or sick men and sometimes old men is there any effort to learn something of the individual’s past. Men will brush elbows in the jungles for days and even weeks without ever learning one another’s names. They live closed lives and grant others the same privilege.

THE LAWS OF THE JUNGLE

In every permanent camp there is likely to be a permanent group that makes the camp its headquarters. Sometimes these groups are able to take possession and exploit the transient guests. The I.W.W. has at times been able to exclude everyone who did not carry the red card of that organization. As a rule, however, the jungle is extremely hospitable and democratic.

The freedom of the jungles is, however, limited by a code of etiquette. Jungle laws are unwritten, but strictly adhered to. The breaking of these rules, if intentional, leads to expulsion, forced labor, or physical punishment.

Jungle crimes include (1) making fire by night in jungles
subject to raids; (2) “hi-jacking,” or robbing men at night
when sleeping in the jungles; (3) “buzzing,” or making
the jungle a permanent hangout for jungle “buzzards”
who subsist on the leavings of meals; (4) wasting food
or destroying it after eating is a serious crime; (5)
leaving pots and other utensils dirty after using; (6)
cooking without first hustling fuel; (7) destroying jungle
equipment. In addition to these fixed offenses are other
crimes which are dealt with as they arise. Men are supposed
to use cooking cans for cooking only, “boiling up” cans for
washing clothing, coffee cans to cook coffee, etc. After
using, guests are expected to clean utensils, dry them, and
leave them turned bottom side up so that they will not fill
with rainwater and rust. They are expected to keep the camp
clean. To enforce such common-sense rules, self-appointed
committees come into existence.[3]

Exclusive camps are usually the result of the efforts of the older residents to enforce discipline. Most “jungle buzzards,” men who linger in the jungles from season to season, take an interest in the running of things. For the most part they are parasitic, begging food from others, but they are generally on the alert to keep the place clean and orderly.

The following description of a day in the jungles was written by a migratory worker, a man who knows the life from years of experience. His narrative presents a faithful picture of an average day in an average jungle.

A DAY IN THE JUNGLES

1.[4] This jungle is on the edge of a strip of timber. A
stream fed from a spring runs into the lake near by. The
empty box cars on the railroad siding close by offer
protection against rain and a place to sleep. Half a mile
away is the junction of two railroads where all trains
stop, and a mile and a half further on is a small town.

At one o’clock in the morning a few men step off a freight
train. One speaks up: “Does anyone know if there is a
jungle in this place?” “Yes,” someone answers, “The jungle
is up in that direction,” pointing towards a woods, “but
what’s the use in going over there now? You can’t build a
fire at this time of night. I am going to hunt up a box car
for a flop.”

After a moment of silence someone else asks, “Any town
close by?” “Yes, there it is,” replies another, pointing
to some lights showing in the distance. The men form
groups according to acquaintance and talk in a low tone.
“Come on, let us hunt up a place to flop till daylight.”
The different groups start off. One starts out for the
town, one goes towards the box cars, and one makes for the
jungles. I was with the group bound for the jungles.

A hundred feet from the railroad right-of-way under the
darkness of big trees we see three or four dying camp
fires. Around one fire we can see the shadows of men. Some
are sitting on the butts of logs, smoking or dozing; others
are stretched out on the ground sound asleep.

The new arrivals walk up to the fire, look over the bunch
to find, perhaps, some old acquaintances. Then some of
us find seats or lie down; others, with as little noise
as possible, hunt up cans which they fill with water and
place over the glowing coals. The men take ground coffee
from packages in their pockets and pour it into boiling
water. The feed is open to everybody. Bread and sausage
are brought out; even sugar is passed around as long as it
lasts. The men eat in silence. Each one takes the utensils
he used and walks to the creek to wash them. Nearly all of
the men then lie down, but some leave. Nobody asks anyone
about himself and nobody says “hello” or “goodbye.”

Daylight comes. The breaking of sticks for firewood is
heard. Fires are started, cooking utensils are chosen. The
law of the jungle is that no one can call a vessel his
except at the time he uses it. Packages and receptacles are
opened revealing food of all kinds. Eating commences. If
any man with more than enough for himself sees someone else
not eating, it is etiquette to offer to share with his
neighbor. If the other man accepts the offer, he thereby
takes upon himself the responsibility of cleaning the
dishes.

At any time men will be seen leaving the jungles to hustle
food, or to get wood, or to catch trains. Anytime is eating
time in the jungles and someone is always bringing in
“chuck” that he has bought or “bummed.” Talking goes on as
long as the daylight lasts. Heated arguments often develop.
Papers and pamphlets are distributed, union cards are taken
out; business meetings are held to decide policies and
actions, how to get the next meal or how to win the battle
between labor and capital.

About ten o’clock in the morning two townsmen displaying
stars come into the jungle. One of them tells the men that
they will have to clean out because people are kicking. A
holdup has been committed in town the night before and they
intend to prevent any more from being committed, “So you
fellers have to leave.”

One man in the jungles speaks up and tells the officers
that we are not holdup men, that we are getting ourselves
something to eat, and that we have got to have some place
to do that. “We have paid for everything. What would you do
if you was in our place; go into town and get pulled and
let the town feed us?”

The officer looks nonplussed, but curtly replies, “Well,
I am going by orders.” After that he walks away. The
timid men leave the jungle. The others reply by roundly
cursing indiscriminately all their enemies. They are town
clowns, sky pilots, Bible ranters, bulls, politicians, home
guards, hicks, stool pigeons, systems, scissor bills, and
capitalists. Incidentally they advocate strikes, rebellion,
mass action, complete revolution of the political system,
abolishment of the wage system.

It is close to twelve o’clock. Fires are replenished, cans,
pots and pans are put into service. Plans are being made
in anticipation of a coming raid by the police. At two
o’clock, someone suggests a song. After a fiery song of
the class struggle, a speech follows advising the men to
organize.

By three o’clock only about fifteen or twenty are left in
the jungle. The officer followed by townsmen armed with
guns return. Some of the hobos retreat into the woods.
Those remaining are ordered to hold up their hands with
“You damn bums” added to the command. Some comply, others
refuse. One even has the courage to shout, “Go ahead and
shoot, you damn cowards.” This starts a general shooting
into every pot, pan and can in sight. The men scatter.

After the invaders leave, an inventory is immediately made
to assess the damage. Since the utensils in best condition
had been hidden in the brush, no serious loss to the jungle
has resulted.

By four o’clock the story of the raid has traveled and men
come in from all directions. The decision of the majority
is to remain in the jungle over night. Food is brought in
and preparations for supper begin. The men are doubling up
to cook together. Those belonging to certain unions have
as many as eight or ten in a bunch. There are from thirty
to forty angry men in camp by now and more are coming in.
There is some talk of revenge.

By six o’clock supper is well under way. Several fires are
burning. Containers of every description are used to cook
in; broken shovels and tie plates are used to fry on, empty
tobacco tins are used as cups, and tomato cans serve as fry
pans, soup kettles and soap dishes. Potatoes are roasted on
the coals, wires are bent upon which to broil meat. All are
still talking excitedly of the clash with the police.

While some of the men are busily engaged in cooking, others
are sewing and mending their clothes or shoes, and still
others are shaving. Now and then as at breakfast someone
will shout, asking if anybody wants some spuds or a piece
of punk or a piece of “gut” (sausage); and usually there
is an affirmative answer. After supper, pans and cans are
cleaned out, the paper is read and passes the rounds.
Already it is growing dark, and the hunt begins for dry
sleeping places.

Suddenly a commotion is started; a man is roughly rushed
into the open. He is a hi-jack caught in the act of robbing
a fellow who was sleeping, a greater crime in the jungle
than an open hold up. Cries of “Burn the ----” and “Let us
hang him!” are heard from all sides. A council is hurriedly
called, a chairman is selected, motions are made with
amendments and substitutes. After a short discussion a vote
is taken to give him a whipping. The man is tied to a tree
facing toward it. His back is bared, and men are called
for to apply punishment. No one steps forward; everybody
declines to apply the strap or stick.

Another council is called but before they get started a
young fellow has declared his willingness to fight the
hi-jack to a finish because he knew him and didn’t like him
anyway. The proposition is accepted. The hi-jack is more
than ten pounds heavier than the challenger; but whether
from fear or not, for he knows that the challenger has the
crowd back of him to a man, the hi-jack is slow to start.
Perhaps he feels that the crowd will give him a beating
whether he wins or not. He soon loosens up but he does
not show the goods. The “bo” is more than a match for him
but the hi-jack does not give up easily. He displays some
courage but the “bo” fights like a madman and strikes the
hi-jack blow after blow. The fight lasts more than ten
minutes before the hi-jack is completely knocked out.

After he gets to his feet he is given a chance to wash his
face and stick paper on the cuts; then he is “frisked,”
that is, ordered to donate all but one dollar to the
jungle. Then he is sent out of camp with orders not to show
up in any of the diggings along the line for it would be
murder if anyone should spot him.

By eleven o’clock the excitement is over. Different men
announce that they were headed for so and so and that the
freight starts at such a time. To this someone replies that
he is going that way too so they start off together. Others
walk back among the trees to the places where they have
prepared to sleep. Others who have insufficient clothes
to stand the night chill bunch up around the glowing camp
fires. Soon everything is quiet except for an occasional
sound out of the darkness of men mumbling in conversation.
Occasionally the sound of groans and snores or sighs, or
curses are heard. These betray the dreams of men living
like hunted animals.

I look at my watch and note that it is near midnight and
that all is over for the night, so I curl up on some papers
beside a bed of coals.[5]

THE MELTING POT OF TRAMPDOM

The part played by the jungles as an agency of discipline for the men of the road cannot be overestimated. Here hobo tradition and law are formulated and transmitted. It is the nursery of tramp lore. Here the fledgling learns to behave like an old-timer. In the jungles the slang of the road and the cant of the tramp class is coined and circulated. It may originate elsewhere but here it gets recognition. The stories and songs current among the men of the road, the sentiments, the attitudes, and the philosophy of the migratory laborer are all given due airing. In short, every idea and ideal that finds lodgment in the tramp’s fancy may be expressed here in the wayside forum where anyone who thinks may speak, whether he be a jester or a sage.

Suspicion and hostility are the universal attitudes of the town or small city to the hobo and the tramp. Accordingly, the so-called “floater” custom of passing vagrants on to other communities is widespread.[6] The net effect of this policy is to intensify the anti-social attitude of the homeless man and to release and accentuate criminal tendencies. The small town is helpless to cope with the situation. As things are, its action perhaps cannot be different. Agriculture, as it becomes organized upon a capitalistic basis, is increasingly dependent upon seasonal labor, in harvesting crops for example. The report of the Commission on Industrial Relations states:

The attempts to regulate movements of migratory workers
by local organizations have, without exception, proved
failures. This must necessarily be true no matter how well
planned or well managed such local organizations may be.
The problem cannot be handled except on a national scale
and by methods and machinery which are proportioned to the
enormous size and complexity of the problem.[7]

FOOTNOTES:

[3] It is interesting here to note that there is a striking parallel between the rules of the jungles and the rules of cow camps and other camps of the hills. It is the custom of the cow men of the west to maintain camps in the hills which are stocked with provisions and equipped with utensils and furnishings. These camps are usually left open and anyone who passes is welcome to spend the night, provided he puts the place in order when he leaves.

[4] The documents from which extracts have been taken are numbered consecutively in the text. For complete list of documents used in each chapter see pp. 281-88.

[5] Written by A. W. Dragstedt, secretary in 1922 of the “Hobo College” of Chicago.

[6] For a discussion of the practice of “floating” with reference to the treatment of misdemeanants, see Stuart A. Queen, _The Passing of the County Jail_.

[7] _Final Report_, p. 158.