Hobo Jungle
Shorty, I swear I was just through there, I remember the Krispy Kreme sign up on those beautiful buildings when I hopped out of the boxcar that morning. I'm glad you found your way to the jungle though, I just got here recently myself. I've been wayward since I escaped from the nudist colony. Been back twice trying to get my sister, but no luck.
Shorty, you are a model railroad builder! My God, man. Lovely. You're a poet with buildings and track. Please, more photos! You have a thirsty hobo waiting. Yes, I can spot the center rail at the bottom edge. Whose truck? You understand how not to clutter, how not to overdo. It's rare.
That a life will be spent gaining inches,
When this distance is read in miles.
When this distance is read in miles.
Shorty, not only is your modeling fine, but these shots are wonderfully composed. It is now my honor to see your efforts. My thirst is only slightly slaked. But I hate to press. Your modeling reminds me of Edward Hopper, a favorite painter of mine. This calls for a drink. May I buy you one?
[We're getting awful polite for hobos. Actually, some hobos are very erudite and well-mannered.]
[We're getting awful polite for hobos. Actually, some hobos are very erudite and well-mannered.]
That a life will be spent gaining inches,
When this distance is read in miles.
When this distance is read in miles.
My apologies to those who may have already read this poem. Shorty, this poem kind of reminds me of your layout photos. I'm assuming the pics were taken by you?
ONE DAY
Can a Nuts . . 30
Beer . . . . . . . 25
Schoop . . . . . 35
Shot . . . . . . . 65
Let me speak of the past:
Let me walk into a freight yard
Into the afternoon summer sun,
Across the sandy heat, the stench of tar,
Of creosote, a tired diesel shunting,
The thistle and the gravel;
Middle of the country—1980
Awaiting a 10 PM call westbound.
Let me walk through the open door,
Under the neon of the Dewey Hotel and Bar
(Last true track-side workingman's bar),
Let me hoist a schoop of cold Point,
Let the barman pour out a can of peanuts
Scooped from the wooden barrel,
Let me scatter the shells on the floor,
Let me feel the breeze through the door,
Let someone buy me a shot of whiskey
Because my smile is as clean as a shout;
Let me just sit there and drink,
The stacked cases of beer at the back
Almost reaching the ceiling.
Let me wait for the first outbound freight
Of a western run. And then
I will stumble out to the yard
And board a wood-floored empty boxcar
And sit against my pack in the door as a
Thunderstorm arrives across the darkness.
And as the freight rumbles toward the west
I will lean against the side of the doorway
That cool rainy wind against my face
And I will see the red and green neon
Of the Dewey Hotel and Bar sign
Dancing in the wet night street.
ONE DAY
Can a Nuts . . 30
Beer . . . . . . . 25
Schoop . . . . . 35
Shot . . . . . . . 65
Let me speak of the past:
Let me walk into a freight yard
Into the afternoon summer sun,
Across the sandy heat, the stench of tar,
Of creosote, a tired diesel shunting,
The thistle and the gravel;
Middle of the country—1980
Awaiting a 10 PM call westbound.
Let me walk through the open door,
Under the neon of the Dewey Hotel and Bar
(Last true track-side workingman's bar),
Let me hoist a schoop of cold Point,
Let the barman pour out a can of peanuts
Scooped from the wooden barrel,
Let me scatter the shells on the floor,
Let me feel the breeze through the door,
Let someone buy me a shot of whiskey
Because my smile is as clean as a shout;
Let me just sit there and drink,
The stacked cases of beer at the back
Almost reaching the ceiling.
Let me wait for the first outbound freight
Of a western run. And then
I will stumble out to the yard
And board a wood-floored empty boxcar
And sit against my pack in the door as a
Thunderstorm arrives across the darkness.
And as the freight rumbles toward the west
I will lean against the side of the doorway
That cool rainy wind against my face
And I will see the red and green neon
Of the Dewey Hotel and Bar sign
Dancing in the wet night street.
Last edited by Tramp on Thu Apr 22, 2004 7:38 pm, edited 1 time in total.
That a life will be spent gaining inches,
When this distance is read in miles.
When this distance is read in miles.
Beer okay? Canadian? Fresh? Cold? Free? And cyber beer NEVER hangs you over.
Shorty, your weathering is superb. It would be interesting to compare notes sometime. I've built a Downtown Deco building myself. I use mostly acrylic washes and dry brush techniques. Have you published photos in any of the mags?
The lighting of the photos is some of the best I've ever seen.
Shorty, your weathering is superb. It would be interesting to compare notes sometime. I've built a Downtown Deco building myself. I use mostly acrylic washes and dry brush techniques. Have you published photos in any of the mags?
The lighting of the photos is some of the best I've ever seen.
That a life will be spent gaining inches,
When this distance is read in miles.
When this distance is read in miles.
Years ago I published in the Narrow Gauge and Shortline Gazette. I scratchbuilt HOn3. (Shhh! I'll be stoned out of here. Actually, the Jungle is pretty safe.) I believe I saw that photo of yours in MR. A small bulb flared in the old brain. All the bulbs are small now. Thanks, Dennis, I really enjoyed seeing these photos. Any time you find another . . . But maybe it's best to save them. Us hobos might need cheering up during those long dry summer days. If I can round up a digital camera, I'll post a few.
That a life will be spent gaining inches,
When this distance is read in miles.
When this distance is read in miles.
-
San Diegan
DennisB,
Trampy woke me up by dropping a box of empties next to my head. I have seen the last two pictures, but the Santa Fe boxcar at the loading platform is new to me and very striking. It looks like a scene at the old Santa Ana station here in Southern California before the station was remodeled.
I see you are offering a solder paste now on your site. I wish I had some when I build my first version of your chain link kit. It turned out very nice but I got a little impatient with the soldering. Since then I see you have added quite a few goodies.
At one time, I think you mentioned that the structure behind the wooden fence started as a K-Line hanger. I have always liked that structure.
San
Trampy woke me up by dropping a box of empties next to my head. I have seen the last two pictures, but the Santa Fe boxcar at the loading platform is new to me and very striking. It looks like a scene at the old Santa Ana station here in Southern California before the station was remodeled.
I see you are offering a solder paste now on your site. I wish I had some when I build my first version of your chain link kit. It turned out very nice but I got a little impatient with the soldering. Since then I see you have added quite a few goodies.
At one time, I think you mentioned that the structure behind the wooden fence started as a K-Line hanger. I have always liked that structure.
San
Shorts, I agree, the aesthetic in these photos is just the kind of thing that inspired me to want to make a film of people's layouts, wouldn't it be great to see in motion? And then in contrast to different people's, like the nudist colony?
I'd buy you a drink too, but I only have this monopoly money.
I'd buy you a drink too, but I only have this monopoly money.
-
Jackie Blue
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