Chapter 4

When the freight pulled out, I had the impression that we were back-tracking toward Chicago and mentioned it to Curly. He explained that before going on to New York he wanted to visit some friends in Louisville, and as I had become quite attached to him by then it didn't make much difference to me where we went. He was a good-looking man, about thirty-five; he spoke good English when alone with me, and only lapsed into the monosyllabic vernacular of Trampdom when other tramps were present. He never commanded me to do anything, but either by suggesting that a certain thing be done or by saying, "don't you think that you should do so-snd-so?" he secured my allegiance in all we did. He was deferential to me, encouraged me to buy all the candy and cigarettes I wanted, and by these and other acts of kindness he firmly cemented the bond that had sprung up between us.

Early next morning, Curly awakened me and told me we were to get off at the next stop. When the train halted we left the boxcar and walked toward the engine. The train got under way again, but stopped at a railroad crossing toward which we were making our way. Curly explained that all trains had to stop at rail- road crossings, and that we would have to wait there until a southbound train came along. We had not long to wait,. Within a few minutes a southbound freight pulled up to stop, and after a few toots of the engine's whistle was on its way again with Curly and me as passengers. We climbed up on top, where Curly made me lie down while he went to find a boxcar with an end door open. It happened to be the next car. He came back and told me to follow him, but I was afraid to stand upright as he did and crawled on my hands and knees to the end of the car. There, I was supposed to rise and jump across the two-foot gap between the two cars. I told him I was afraid and (unlike Casabianca) had not the courage to jump; so Curly jumped the gap and, with one hand on the brakewheel of the other car, he reached across, took one of my hands in his, and bade me rise and try; and I succeeded. Holding my hand, he led me to the other end of the car, where we crawled through the end door to find ourselves on top of a pile of sweet-smelling freshly sawn lumber. It was dark and hot, but we stayed in there till about noon the next day. We could stand the heat no longer, and crawled to the top of the car and sat in the cool breeze. A few minutes later, the train slowed down to enter the railroad yards of a good-sized town. It was Terre Haute, Indiana.

As the train neared the center of the yards, we climbed down the side ladder and dropped off. We made our way across a number of tracks toward a long line of trees on the bank of a stream. Reaching it, we washed up, after which Curly gave me a twenty-cent piece. He told me to go uptown, find the back door of a restaurant, ask for the cook, and buy a "lump". Not knowing what a lump was, I asked for an explanation. He had told me that a handout or pokeout was food given to one at a private residence; but a lump, he explained, was food either given to one or purchased from a cook at a hotel or restaurant In effect, it was one of the few ways that a cook could graft off his employers; and as most cooks had been on the bum at one time or another, they were usually quite liberal. I was to say that there were three of us, that we hadn't eaten since the previous morning (which was true) and that the twenty cents was all the money we had.

I located a restaurant uptown, but could not find a back entrance. A couple of blocks further on, however, I found one on a corner with a small fenced-in yard at the rear. I entered the yard, to be confronted by the blackest Negro I had ever seen. He wore a white cook's cap, a white jacket with several glittering medals on it, and a white apron. He was barefooted, and was emptying a pan of trash into one of two large swill barrels, from which arose a swarm of flies, so large that would have supplied a week's sustenance for all the toads in creation. As he was about to reenter the building, I called to him. He stopped, but when I had showed him the twenty-cent piece and told my story he grabbed me by the arm and, loudly voicing the poor opinion he had of beggars, he led me through the gate onto the street. There, when the gate was closed, he dropped his voice to a whisper and told me to give him the money and that he would have something for me in a short time. I was dubious, but gave him the twenty and waited nearby.

I waited a long time, and became convinced I had been swindled. I searched the nearby gutter for a rock to throw through the rear window, but could find none. I then decided to go to the restasurant's proprietor to tell my tale of woe; but as I was about to leave the gate opened partway, a large paper bag was thrust through the gate by a very black hand and arm, and the gate closed as the arm and hand were withdrawn. I opened the bag to make sure it contained food, then picked it up and returned to Curly. In the bag we found three very large boiled potatoes, a full one-third of a large boiled ham knuckle, a large loaf of bread split lengthwise, which contained a full half-pound of butter, and three large pieces of gooseberry pie. The "shine" had amply rewarded me for my long wait.

We ate a hearty meal, but had to scoop water out of the stream with our hands to wash it down; during my absence, Curly had searched the jungle for tin cans but could find none. He told me that he suspected that the town was "hostile" to tramps. We tied up and hid the balance of our food, and he told me to lay low in a dense clump of hazelnut bushes while he went on a "gaping" (sight-seeing) tour. I lay there quietly for more than two hours, not even daring to smoke, until he returned. He told me that he could find no sign of tramps ever having used the jungles for camping, and he concluded that we had better lie low and get out of town that evening. When it got dark we recovered the rest of our lump, went back to the railroad yards, and were lucky enough to meet a switchman at a shanty who obligingly pointed out a train which he said was made up and would leave for the south within an hour. We kept out of sight as much as possible while trying to find an empty boxcar, but they were all sealed. We finally found a flatcar loaded with telephone poles and hid between the overlapping poles until the train pulled out. We then climbed to the top of the train, getting down only when the train made a stop. As we had done on the previous night, we changed trains at a crossing and before noon were in the hospitable city of Louisville.