Hobo Jungle

[webenda]

Murph,

You are on my list of foes. Did that hurt? All your posts look like this now:

[webenda]

Jim,

Thank you for the kind words. I just put you on my friends list.

[JIM2223]

Wayne:

Thanks guy...I consider you my friend also.

Jim

[webenda]

Hi Jim,

I found out that making Murph a "foe" blocks his messages.
I found out nothing after making you a "friend." There is no change.
OK, I will move Murph to my friends list and wait to see if anything ever happens.

[webenda]

The pay phone at Archie's Cocktail Lounge is listed as being at G-M's Dewey Bar by the phone company.
There is a bit of a mix-up with the address. Archie's (formerly Dewey) is 2417. 2412 is a park. Maybe a
payphone there? Can't really tell with the resolution Google Earth gives for Steven's Point, WI. Google
Earth might be in error showing a knife and fork at 2412. There is no place to eat in the park other than
a park bench. The park is seen on the right in Mr. One Gentleman's first photo and his second photo was
taken from the park. The tracks are at the bottom of the image and the building just above the tracks
is the Steven's Point Train Depot (has a little square on it to indicate there is a photo available.)

[webenda]

http://www.hmdb.org/marker.asp?marker=1033

[MurphOnMillerAve]

You are quite the spirited guy, Wayne/Webenda. Yup. Now, note please, I did not say you were high, just full of a certain joie de vivre. Oui Oui. Plus, I'll bet a man messes w/ you at his peril. Yup.
I have the feeling that if we had lived in the same neighborhood when we were kids, I'd have always looked to see if you were outside to play, as I searched for the usual group to get into mischief with. There's something of a "li'l bugger' in ya'. Yup.

[The Dirt]

Wayne, you missed her, but not by much.
This here's the Dewey...



...based on the landmarks seen in this contemporary ground photo of the original building...



...and comparing this latter photo with the original pics of Tramp's of the Dewey, there can be no doubt that the contemporary photo is of the original Dewey building.

Scanning further east of the station, the Wisconsin Central has a nice roundhouse...



...and further east yet, a fair-sized yard.



Leaves me to wonder where he crossed the yard, jumped the boxcar, and any danger he faced.

Maybe it's just me, but nobody has put a word toward the imagery in the poem. Granted, I haven't shared, in my life, all your collective adventures with cars, drinking, and traveling around the country, but I have a vivid imagination, and I'm just severely struck by the idea of setting out on a train and traveling the breadth of this country, and trying to live by one's wits and ability to improvise, go without food or hint of creature-comforts, and make-do for months with only the contents of the pack that Tramp used to carry. Until he tells the story, I can only shake my head and wonder.

[webenda]

Wayne, you missed her, but not by much.

Leaves me to wonder where he crossed the yard, jumped the boxcar, and any danger he faced.

You placed the Dewey exactly right Dirt. Good work. That explains the problem I was having with
the addresses. Archie's at 2417 is on the east side of the street (odd numbers) and the Dewey at
2412 is on the west side of the street (even numbers) and agrees with phone company records.
Google Earth placed the marker in approximately the correct place. Thank you for clearing that up.

According to the poem, Tramp caught the freight outside west end of the yard, "Awaiting a 10 PM
call westbound." He would not want to ride the freight through the yard from the east end and chance
getting caught by the bull. And hobos never entered a yard unless they wanted to confront the bull.
The Dewey was conveniently located at the west end where, "Let me wait for the first outbound freight
Of a western run."

He does say,
"And then
I will stumble out to the yard
And board a wood-floored empty boxcar..."

In my mind, "the yard," is just outside the west end of the yard (where the Dewey is located.)

The imagery in the poem places me right into the scene. I can smell the aroma in Dewey's when I read it.
(For some reason the neon sign is flickering and making zapping sounds.) I get out of breath imagining
racing from the Dewey to the boxcar gaining speed, throwing my heavy pack in and then pulling my self
up into the car (they are rather high off the ground ya know.)

And Dirt, did you notice that they named a street after me?

[MurphOnMillerAve]

...Maybe it's just me, but nobody has put a word toward the imagery in the poem. ... I can only shake my head and wonder.

Maybe, Dirt, he has put it so well there isn't anything else to say; at least, not from my perspective. I wouldn't have changed a word in his narrative. I found it gripping and shared it w/ friends. Sometimes, things are said so well they do not need approval or comment - they are that good. They speak volumes by themselves and don't need analysis or praise. Open hearts and open minds get the point very clearly. I loved it, but sometimes, even I shut my mouth when I know I have nothing of value to add to what was well said. Maybe that's just me.

[webenda]

...Maybe it's just me, but nobody has put a word toward the imagery in the poem. ... I can only shake my head and wonder.

Murph,

Ya changed the context of what Dirt was saying. He was not shaking his head because we did not comment.

Oh, oh... I feel a "True Lies" rant coming on. (That was tongue in cheek, if you couldn't tell.)

Actually, I agree with you. The first time I read one of Tramps works, I am struck silent absorbing the imagery (sights, sounds, smells and feelings) that have just entered my brain. Then I read it again to experience the joy of such writing all over again.

[rogruth]

Have you guys read any of Tramps' short stories or novels?

[The Dirt]

And Dirt, did you notice that they named a street after me?

LOL, I sure did!
Does that mean, in Stevens Point, that you're 'famous', or 'infamous'? (Maybe that's the street with the county clink!)

And thanks for the clarification. Yes, I meant I can 'only shake my head and wonder' at the balls-iness of what he did. That was SO out of the realm of my life's experiences or capabilities.

(Murph, you should know me better than that! )
And me, I have to remember how slow this internet 'conversation' can be.

[MurphOnMillerAve]

...Maybe it's just me, but nobody has put a word toward the imagery in the poem. ... I can only shake my head and wonder.

Murph,

Ya changed the context of what Dirt was saying. He was not shaking his head because we did not comment.

Oh, oh... I feel a "True Lies" rant coming on. (That was tongue in cheek, if you couldn't tell.)

Actually, I agree with you. The first time I read ....

No, I won't rant, Wayne, merely comment. I had a feeling I was misunderstanding, but I couldn't see clearly, for some odd reason. Much is lost when we don't have tone of voice and facial expression to more fully define our message and intention. I guess that's why we use smiley faces, and the like, and experience misunderstandings at times.
And yes, Dirt, you are right - I should have known better.

So, we are in agreement in our awe. I certainly could not take such a voyage as he described. I am not sure I would even want to. Surrendering like that to forces far beyond ones ability to control and defend oneself are far outside the parameters of what I would allow myself. I'm not even sure I envy him such an experience, but I loved reading his account of it, for sure. Perhaps, that is why novels are written and have sold for centuries - authors take us where we cannot or dare not venture ourselves.

In fact, and in contrast to his boxcar exploits, I am still trying to find my way across this country w/ a new and dependable car wrapped around me, motels to shelter me, most often, and credit cards to cushion the whole journey. But at least, adventure is still tucked in there somewhere (and maybe even some courage?) not exactly pioneer-stock, but hopefully ready for plenty. Eh? Eh.

[MurphOnMillerAve]

And here's something else I'll toss in the pot for your consideration, folks.
Recently, I had the privilege of being invited to a "tractor-pull" by Hev and Dirt, which is something I'd never have thought of on my own. The experience was totally new to me - almost a "foreign land," being strictly from big cities my whole life.
(And Mitch, you may, at the end of this tome, ask me again what the hell I'm talking about, and that would be OK, but here goes...)
It had rained before I got there and threatened to rain more, so when I slid my new GLk into its deep mud-ruts a mile from the show, in a horse pasture, I knew a good adventure had begun.

Hev and Dirt turned out to be exactly the salt-of-the-earth goodfellows I had anticipated (how that impression was accomplished on something so awkward as a forum is beyond me.)

During that very hot tropical bright severe blue sky day, Hev struggled to get a mechanical contraption(my word for it) to working, and never gave up, all the while making me feel welcome and not awkward at all. There's a gentle smile that consistently emerges from his heroic stature which invites friendship with ease. I was glad for his company.

Dirt was a mega-cheerful guide and companion for the day's meanderings which intensified the whole experience into very personalized fun. At one point, we all sat as one family and shared a table together, incl. Tony, and the hospitality felt further welcoming.

The fragrances of the mud, straw, hay, tractor exhausts, the intimidating (to me) roar and rumble of the steam-powered antique tractors, the Lancaster County children walking barefooted throughout the muddy lanes, and the good and decent folk one could see at every turn of the head were flawless in their authenticity and combined to take me to a place I had not even been able to imagine before I got there. The idea had crossed my mind to sleep overnight in the pasture where I had parked, but the insects convinced me otherwise. Instead, the late-night drive homeward, w/ all the windows and the roof wide open allowed the Pennsylvanis farmlands to waft through and around me for a sustained period of time but made me reluctantly aware I was leaving a unique world behind, regrettably, to return to a much harsher world of concrete and massvie buildings and impersonal, hard faces.

I wished I could have stayed permanently, in Lancaster Pennsylvania, but I knew life's choices had determined otherwise. Some day , I will return for another tractor-pull, there, and hope to see Hev and Dirt again, and to pick up where I left off - being made to feel at-home and w/ good firends.