The Autobiography of a Super Tramp 7

The Autobiography of a Super Tramp 7

This stranger turned out to be New Haven Baldy. We had never had the

pleasure of meeting him before, but had often heard of him. He had a

great reputation in the State of Connecticut, which he never

left--except for an annual trip through Massachusetts to the city of

Boston. There was not one good house in the former State that was not

known to Baldy. This was put to the test in our presence, that very

day. A man came to the camp who, poor fellow, claimed to be a

hard-working man. He had lost his job and had been robbed of his

savings, now being forced to walk home to Meriden. He had never begged

in his life, and had now been without food for two days, and was

almost too weak to continue his journey. "Yes," said Baldy, "and when

you are settled at home, and the wrinkles are taken out of you, what

sympathy will you have with us? You will tell us to go and work for

our living, the same as yourself." The poor fellow protested, saying

that he had never known his mother to refuse any man food. At this

Baldy pricked up his ears and enquired of the stranger his mother's

address. On hearing the name of the street Baldy at once proceeded to

describe the one--and only one--good house to be found there: "That

is our house," said the stranger. Baldy, not yet convinced, asked for

a description of the old lady and her husband. This was given, to

Baldy's satisfaction. "Well," said he, "I have had many a meal at your

house, and you shall now have one with me." Saying which he gave the

stranger a parcel which, being spread on the grass, was seen to

contain several meat sandwiches and a number of small cakes. After

eating these, and others from Brum, the stranger left, saying that he

would not again feel hungry until he reached home.

 

After the stranger had gone Baldy laughed immoderately. "That man's

father," said he, "was a railroad man, who became boss, and at last

retired on a comfortable little sum. In the kitchen, where the old

people have often fed me, the old man has hung on the wall the shovel

which he had used in his early days. There it is to be seen tasselled

and kept shining bright, and treated reverently as a family heirloom.

How I have laughed," continued Baldy, "to see that shovel, to think

what a simple old fellow he must be to take a pride in showing how he

toiled in his early life. Every time I go there the old man points at

the shovel with pride, and I have as much as I can do to keep a calm

face in listening to its history. But in spite of all that the old man

is a good sort, and I am glad to have been able to assist his son."

 

Alas, what a disastrous end was ours! When we reached the town of New

Haven, we began to beg from passersby in the open streets and in less

than an hour were in jail. On being brought up next morning before the

judge, we were each sentenced to thirty days. But what hurt our

feelings most was the personal comment of the judge--that we were two

brawny scoundrels who would not work if we had the chance. However

true this might be as applied to us in a moral sense, it certainly was

not a literal fact, for we were both small men. People who, not seeing

us, would read this remark in the local paper, would be misled as to

our personal appearance. I am doubtful whether any Judge is justified

in using such a term. At any rate, thirty days had to be served.

 

We were in a far better position than an Italian who was waiting to be

tried for murder, and whose cell was not far distant from ours.

 

At this jail we had to perform the light labour of caning chairs, and

were well treated in the way of food and sleeping accommodation and,

in addition, received a liberal supply of chewing tobacco.

 

Being interested in the Italian, the first thing we did on regaining

our liberty was to enquire as to his fate. We were told that he had

received a life sentence; or, as our alien informant strangely

expressed it--"Antonia, he didn't get some of de time, but he got all

of de time."

 

Thus what promised to be a summer's outing full of enjoyment, came to

a disastrous close sooner than we expected. And, when we were again

free, the summer season was practically over, the visitors were

gradually leaving for their town houses; which meant that our

treatment at the boarding houses would become colder and colder in

accordance with the number of boarders.

 

At this time I accepted employment as a woodchopper, but unfortunately

the work did not last; and just as I began to feel the inclination for

this more respectable life, I was discharged, much to Brum's delight,

who was apparently disgusted with this new innovation called work, and

could not understand any man's desire for it.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER VI

 

A NIGHT'S RIDE

 

 

Although I had at this time become lazy, losing almost all sense of

respectability, I often reproached Brum for the aimlessness of this

existence; telling him we must seek work and attend to other wants

than those of the body. I would tell him of the arts, and how the

cultivation of them was lost to us through a continual lack of funds.

I told him of the pleasures of reading, visiting picture galleries,

museums and theatres, and of the wonders of instrumental music, and of

the human voice. Once when we were passing through a street in New

Orleans, I paused to listen to a woman singing. Brum, like the

faithful companion he was, waited my pleasure, until he too seemed to

become impressed by some unusual feeling. The song ended, and as we

went our way, I said--"There, Brum, what do you think of that?" "O

lor," he answered, awestruck, "wasn't she a blooming cat!" making me

laugh heartily at such a strange __EXPRESSION__ of praise, knowing that it

was meant to be truthful and sincere.

 

Having done a few days' work, as mentioned in the preceding chapter,

I resolved to come to an understanding with Brum at once as to our

future plans. With this end in view, I invited him to a drink, and

thus began: "What do you intend doing? Your life is not mine. We often

go for days without reading matter, and we know not what the world is

saying; nor what the world is doing. The beauty of nature is for ever

before my eyes, but I am certainly not enriching my mind, for who can

contemplate Nature with any profit in the presence of others. I have

no leisure to make notes in hopes of future use, and am so overpacking

my memory with all these scenes, that when their time comes for use,

they will not then take definite shape. I must go to work for some

months, so that I may live sparingly on my savings in some large city,

where I can cultivate my mind." Now, Brum's method of begging was

different in large cities from what it was in the country. In the

latter he found no use for money, except for hair cutting or shaving;

and when this became necessary he never failed to get the requisite

amount for his purpose. When he was ready to have this office

performed, it was his custom to interview the Catholic priest of the

community, and beg the use of his razor, knowing it was part of that

person's creed to shave continually. Of course, the priest would not

think of lending his razor to an entire stranger, but seldom refused

the ten cents that were necessary for that operation. But in the large

cities, Brum scorned private houses, and begged money in the streets,

and in their various stores; purchased his meals at a restaurant, and

paid his lodgings like an honest man. Therefore, thinking my

discontent was mainly owing to the lack of funds, he said--"All this

haste from place to place is not at all to my liking. If you wish to

settle in a large city, I can guarantee two dollars a day at the

least, between us, for a visit to the theatre, music hall, for books,

papers, or an occasional glass of grog." "No, no," I said, "we must

either work or part. There are three dollars, half of my earnings, so

please yourself whether we work or part, whether you go or stay; for I

have already decided my own course. What is it to be?" "Well," said

he, after a long pause, "we are now near to the hop country, and they

start picking sometime next week; that is about the only work to be

had at this time of the year."

 

Upon this we had several drinks, for I was so pleased at Brum's

decision, that I ordered drink after drink with bewildering

succession. Brum informed me of a freight train that was to leave the

yards at midnight, on which we could beat our way to a small town on

the borders of the hop country. Not knowing what to do with ourselves

until that time arrived, we continued to drink until we were not in a

fit condition for this hazardous undertaking--except we were fortunate

to get an empty car, so as to lie down and sleep upon the journey. At

last we made our way towards the yards, where we saw the men making

up the train. We kept out of sight until that was done and then in the

darkness Brum inspected one side of the train and I the other, in

quest of an empty car. In vain we sought for that comfort. There was

nothing to do but to ride the bumpers or the top of the car, exposed

to the cold night air. We jumped the bumpers, the engine whistled

twice, toot! toot! and we felt ourselves slowly moving out of the

yards. Brum was on one car and I was on the next facing him. Never

shall I forget the horrors of that ride. He had taken fast hold on the

handle bar of his car, and I had done likewise with mine. We had been

riding some fifteen minutes, and the train was going at its full speed

when, to my horror, I saw Brum lurch forward, and then quickly pull

himself straight and erect. Several times he did this, and I shouted

to him. It was no use, for the man was drunk and fighting against the

overpowering effects, and it was a mystery to me how he kept his hold.

At last he became motionless for so long that I knew the next time he

lurched forward his weight of body must break his hold, and he would

fall under the wheels and be cut to pieces. I worked myself carefully

towards him and woke him. Although I had great difficulty in waking

him, he swore that he was not asleep. I had scarcely done this when a

lantern was shown from the top of the car, and a brakesman's voice

hailed us. "Hallo, where are you two going?" "To the hop fields," I

answered. "Well," he sneered, "I guess you won't get to them on this

train, so jump off, at once. Jump! d'ye hear?" he cried, using a great

oath, as he saw we were little inclined to obey. Brum was now wide

awake. "If you don't jump at once," shouted this irate brakesman, "you

will be thrown off." "To jump," said Brum quietly, "will be sure

death, and to be thrown off will mean no more." "Wait until I come

back," cried the brakesman, "and we will see whether you ride this

train or not," on which he left us, making his way towards the

caboose. "Now," said Brum, "when he returns we must be on the top of

the car, for he will probably bring with him a coupling pin to strike

us off the bumpers, making us fall under the wheels." We quickly

clambered on top and in a few minutes could see a light approaching

us, moving along the top of the cars. We were now lying flat, so that

he might not see us until he stood on the same car. He was very near

to us, when we sprang to our feet, and unexpectedly gripped him, one

on each side, and before he could recover from his first astonishment.

In all my life I have never seen so much fear on a human face. He must

have seen our half drunken condition and at once gave up all hopes of

mercy from such men, for he stood helpless, not knowing what to do. If

he struggled it would mean the fall and death of the three, and did

he remain helpless in our hands, it might mean being thrown from that

height from a car going at the rate of thirty miles an hour. "Now,"