A Letter from James A Michener Novelist, Historian, Pulitzer Prize Winner, World Traveler, and . . . HOBO!
(Reprinted letter to the editor [Buzz Potter] from the Hobo Times, $21 sub/dues in NHA. POB 706 Nisswa MN 56468.)
Dear Buzz,
As I approach ninety, Volume 9, Edition 4 of Hobo Times reaches my desk [article included photo of a cheerful old Michener inTahiti] and I am transported by magic memories of events that took place in my life in 1919, when I was twelve years old, and as the years flicked by I could see in vivid color the five stages of my hobo life.
I am proud to be a member of the National Hobo Association, for I won my eligibility the hard way. My greetings to you.
At the age of twelve I lived in a house which had never had a man around but three dedicated sisters cared for a bunch of orphans they took into their home. They were wonderful caretakers and I loved them, but by nature of things I was left alone a lot, and with some daring for a kid that old, I paired off with another town orphan and we hitchhiked our way north from our small Pennsylvania town to Canada. It seemed impossible, but I had 25 cents and he had 35 cents. We cadged stale bread and cakes from bakeries, slept in jails, and were often treated to meals by the car owners who picked us up and gave us rides. That trip hooked me, and some weeks later we were bumming our way down to Florida. We didn’t get there. In Georgia some big hearted policemen allowed us to sleep in their jail and in the morning turned us around: “Florida is too tough a scene for boys your age. Go on back home.” And they took up a collection to speed us on our way. In this first stage of my hobo life my buddy and I explored western Pennsylvania, always with no money, and my addiction deepened.
The second stage came when I was fifteen years old and in high school, for then I really struck out, on my own and got as far west as lowa, again with no money but a willingness to go anywhere and trust my luck.
The third stage was a brief one. From lowa I caught my first freight back to Chicago and loved the boxcar experience. But after hitchhiking back into lowa I was instructed by some real hoboes to ride the rods, the under structure of the boxcars, but this terrified me so profoundly that I never tried that again. As an oldtimer told me; “You’re not ready for riding the rods till you’re thirty and have some experience.”
My fourth stage came when I was in college, for then I covered a lot of territory hitchhiking and staying in hobo camps. I had some money then, not much, and loved the roaming life. When I married I taught my gallant wife how to hitchhike with me but protect herself in doing so and we covered lots of the United States. My fifth stage started when I was in the Navy in World War 11. Stationed in the South Pacific I had military papers which allowed me to travel widely in any government transportation heading my way. No charge, but welcomed aboard passing ships and especially the great airplanes flying at that time. In this guise I worked on fortynine different islands and saw the Pacific as few Americans ever have.
My fifth stage continued after the war when my writing obligations carried me to all corners of the world in ox carts, old cars, and again, trains. In pursuing this career I worked, and found my way to all the continents.
I am still a bum at heart. I long to hit the road again to go anywhere on any project, but alas, I’ve been hit by a troublesome health problem which keeps me tied to one spot, but in memory I travel everywhere.
I think your cover photograph on this current issue of the Hobo Times of the “old timer” with his wrist watch, cigarette and sturdy shoes standing in a boxcar that is moving across the countryside the best evocation of a true hobo I’ve ever seen. Congratulations!
….. Jim Michener
