Besides the dust bowl migrants, other groups of people were traveling the roads, or hopping freight trains, or going place-to-place looking for something better during the Depression. These transients were called “hoboes” or “boomers.” A derogatory name used by some was “bums” but, there was a distinction: “The hobo works and wanders, the bum drinks and wanders.” (Dunaway and Beer, p. 44 quoting Ry Cooder.) Hoboes were forced to live that life by the economic circumstances. On the other hand, bums were just lazy individuals wasting their lives away. “Boomers had a certain honor…[they] were simply guys who had a calling and a profession and then they didn’t anymore. It was not their fault.” (Id.)
The PBS show, “The American Experience,” produced a documentary film of 10 young people who crossed the country during the Depression by hopping on train cars. The name of the film is “Riding the Rails.” According to the movie, more than 250,000 teenagers were living on the road in America during the Depression. In one of the vignettes, a father told his teenage son that there simply wasn’t enough food to feed the family; so, the boy left home the next day and jumped on a freight train. The film illustrated that the road was an education about the ways of the world, full of harsh lessons: cold nights, brutal railroad detectives (“bulls”), the humiliation of arrest, panhandling, social ostracism, days without food, and the dangers of losing a limb. The Southern Pacific Railroad boasted that it threw 683,000 vagrants off its trains in 1931. http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/americanexperience/films/rails/ In any event, the hobo was the subject of many Depression-era songs. Some of them are set out here.
“Hobo’s Lullaby,” words and music by Goebel Reeves, sung by Woody Guthrie. (https://youtu.be/NN_xvE79iXE)
Go to sleep you weary hobo
Let the towns drift slowly by
Can’t you hear the steel rails hummin’
That’s the hobo’s lullabyI know your clothes are torn and ragged
And your hair is turning gray
Lift your head and smile at trouble
You’ll find peace and rest somedayNow don’t you worry ‘bout tomorrow
Let tomorrow come and go
Tonight you’re in a nice warm boxcar
Safe from all that wind and snowI know the police cause you trouble
They cause trouble everywhere
But when you die and go to Heaven
You’ll find no policemen thereSo go to sleep you weary hobo
Let the towns drift slowly by
Listen to the steel rails hummin’
That’s a hobo’s lullaby
Another song reflecting the hard and dangerous experience riding freight train boxcars is “Hobo Bill’s Last Ride,” written by Waldo O’Neal. This song was written for and recorded by the great country and western singer Jimmie Rogers in 1929. Rogers was known as “The Singing Brakeman,” a reflection of the fact that he was a railroad man himself, someone who experienced the train life first hand. Rogers’ signature was his ability to yodel, country style. His version of “Hobo Bill’s Last Ride” can be found at (http://mp3tunes.org/mp3/The%20Hobo’s%20Last%20Ride). Other versions are by Hank Snow (http://www.you2repeat.com/watch/?v=pJDVFz6fvfo) and one by Merle Haggaard. (http://sonichits.com/video/Merle_Haggard/Hobo_Bill’s_Last_Ride)
Riding on an east bound freight train
Speeding through the night
Hobo Bill, a railroad bum
Was fighting for his lifeThe sadness of his eyes revealed
The torture of his soul
He raised a weak and weary hand
To brush away the cold.Ho-ho-o, bo-o-o, bil-lie
No warm lights flickered around him
No blankets there to fold
Nothing but, the howling wind
And the driving rain so coldWhen he heard a whistle blowing
In a dreamy kind of way
The hobo seemed contented for
He smiled there where he layHo-ho-o, bo-o-o, bil-lie
Outside the rain was fallin’
On that lonesome boxcar door
But the little form of Hobo Bill
Lay still upon the floorAs the train sped through the darkness
And the raging storm outside
No one knew that Hobo Bill
Was taking his last rideIt was early in the mornin’
When they raised the hobo’s head
The smile still lingered on his face
But Hobo Bill was deadThere was no mother’s longin’
To soothe his weary soul
For he was just a railroad bum
Who died out in the cold
The song “Big Rock Candy Mountain” was written about the fantasy life of a hobo who did not hold a steady job during the Great Depression, but who, instead, traveled the roads. The composer of both words and music was Harry “Haywire Mac” McClintock. Mr. McClintock was an actor, poet, painter, newspaper reporter, and set designer as well as a composer. This is the original version of the song: (https://youtu.be/ovKk_kPmAk4). Burl Ives also made the song popular: (https://youtu.be/Jx3lYqTAlnE).
Oh the buzzin’ of the bees in the cigarette trees
The soda water fountain where the lemonade springs
And the bluebird sings in that Big Rock Candy MountainOn a summer day
In the month of May
A burly bum came ahiking
Down a shady lane
Through the sugar cane
He was looking for his liking
As he strolled along
He sang a song
Of the land of milk and honey
Where a bum can stay
For many a day
And he won’t need any moneyOh the buzzin’ of the bees in the cigarette trees
The soda water fountain where the lemonade springs
And the bluebird sings in that Big Rock Candy MountainIn the Big Rock Candy Mountain
The cops have wooden legs
The bulldogs all have rubber teeth
And the hens lay soft-boiled eggs
The farmers’ trees are full of fruit
The barns are full of hay
I want to go where there ain’t no snow
Where the sleet don’t fall and the wind don’t blow
In that Big Rock Candy MountainThere’s a lake of gin
We can both jump in
And the handouts grow on bushes
In the new-mown hay
We can sleep all day
And the bars all have free lunches
Where the mail train stops
And there ain’t no cops
And the folks are tender-hearted
Where you never change your socks
And you never throw rocks
And your hair is never partedOh the buzzin’ of the bees in the cigarette trees
The soda water fountain where the lemonade springs
And the bluebird sings in that Big Rock Candy MountainOh, a farmer and his son,
They were on the run
To the hay field they were bounding
Said the bum to the son,
“Why don’t you come
To that big rock candy mountain?”
So the very next day
They hiked away,
The mileposts they were counting
But they never arrived
At the lemonade tide
On the big rock candy mountainOh the buzzin’ of the bees in the cigarette trees
The soda water fountain where the lemonade springs
And the bluebird sings in that Big Rock Candy MountainOne evening as the sun went down
And the jungle fires were burning,
Down the track came a hobo hiking,
He said, “Boys, I’m not turning
I’m heading for a land that’s far away
Beside the crystal fountain
I’ll see you all this coming fall
In the Big Rock Candy Mountain
Chorus:In the Big Rock Candy Mountain,
It’s a land that’s fair and bright,
The handouts grow on bushes
And you sleep out every night.
The boxcars all are empty
And the sun shines every day
I’m bound to go
Where there ain’t no snow
Where the sleet don’t fall
And the winds don’t blow
In the Big Rock Candy Mountain.
Chorus:In the Big Rock Candy Mountain
You never change your socks
And little streams of alkyhol
Come trickling down the rocks
O the shacks all have to tip their hats
And the railway bulls are blind
There’s a lake of stew
And ginger ale too
And you can paddle
All around it in a big canoe
In the Big Rock Candy MountainOh the buzzin’ of the bees in the cigarette trees
The soda water fountain where the lemonade springs
And the bluebird sings in that Big Rock Candy MountainIn the Big Rock Candy Mountain
The cops have wooden legs
The bulldogs all have rubber teeth
And the hens lay soft-boiled eggs
The box-cars all are empty
And the sun shines every day
I’m bound to go
Where there ain’t no snow
Where the sleet don’t fall
And the winds don’t blow
In the Big Rock Candy Mountain.Oh the buzzin’ of the bees in the cigarette trees
The soda water fountain where the lemonade springs
And the bluebird sings in that Big Rock Candy MountainIn the Big Rock Candy Mountain,
The jails are made of tin.
You can slip right out again,
As soon as they put you in.
There ain’t no short-handled shovels,
No axes, saws nor picks,
I’m bound to stay
Where you sleep all day,
Where they hung the jerk
That invented work
In the Big Rock Candy Mountain.
During the late 1930’s several states, including California, passed laws and posted signs at ports of entry stating “No More Migration.” There were armed guards to enforce the law and turn away migrants with the typical remark, “just keep on moving.” Sis Cunningham took this phrase and used it as a basis for her song “How Can You Keep on Moving, Unless You Migrate Too?” The California law, along with other states, was declared unconstitutional, but the song reflects the prevailing attitude towards migrants. Ry Cooder sings the song at https://youtu.be/kDDnkQQyzQU.
How can you keep on moving unless you migrate too?
They tell ya to keep on moving but migrate, you must not do
The only reason for moving and the reason why I roam
To move to a new location and find myself a homeI can’t go back to the homestead, the shack no longer stands
They said I was uneeded, had no claim to the land
They said, “come on, get moving, it’s the only thing for you”
But how can you keep moving unless you migrate too?Now if you pitch your little tent along the broad highway
The board of sanitation says, “sorry, you can’t stay”
Come on, come on, get moving it’s their everlasting cry
Can’t stay, can’t go back, can’t migrate, so where the hell am I?How can you keep on moving unless you migrate too?
They tell ya to keep on moving but migrate, you must not do
The only reason for moving and the reason why I roam
To move to a new location and find myself a home(Additional verse contributed by Tom Naples):
The scenery along the roadside is a mighty dreary sight
If in this whole wide country you’ve got no place to light
I was never one for rambling, my folks is the settling kind
Got to keep on looking for that home that someday I hope to find.