‘Bout four years ago, I was the happiest child in all the world. I was livin’ with my mum, and my dad, and my three brothers and my three sisters. The nine of us lived just outside o’ Boston. We had a real nice house, with more bedrooms than people livin’ in it. Dad was a banker, mum worked in a bookstore. She was real smart, always readin’ and cookin’ us food. Since I was the second smallest of seven kids, I was only in third grade when the Depression hit.
I remember Dad came home one day an’ he looked real sad. He said that we gotta start savin’ our money ‘cause all the banks are runnin’ out of money. I remember the next day was the last time I ever went to school. I started workin’ with my biggest brother Johnny in a shoe factory. Since I was so small, I was the inspector of the shoes. I would look at all the shoes and throw away the bad ones. For a while, our family was doin’ fine. We sold some stuff and moved to a smaller house, but we always had enough food and clothes.
Then, two winters ago, in 1931, my mum died. The doctor said she had some disease with about seventeen syllables in it. That made it my dad tryin’ to support seven kids all on his own. ‘Bout two days later, it seemed, my daddy lost his job at the bank. He was one of the last ones there he said. We were in real trouble then. Me and Johnny were still workin’ at the shoe factory, but the two of us only made seventy five cents a day. And since not everyone had a job, our family was makin’ only a buck fifty a day.
For the next bunch o’ months, me and Johnny started savin’ up all our money. By June in 1932, we had almost fifty dollars saved.
In the middle of the night, on June 22nd 1932, we packed up all our stuff into a little suitcase, put the fifty dollars on the table, and left. We decided to go south, where it would always be warm, and we’d never get the seventeen syllable disease. Johnny and I were interested in Florida, ‘cause we once saw a postcard from Key West from Aunt Linda.
Johnny and I could always get rides from people in cars, ‘cause we were always dressed nice. We got driven all the way from Boston to South Carolina. Problem was sleeping. We never knew were to sleep. Sometimes we’d sleep in some nice person’s house, but usually we’d have to sleep in some farmer’s barn. I remember one time when me and Johnny had to sleep in a chicken coop ‘cause it was rainin’ so hard.
When we got to South Carolina, me and Johnny’s clothes started getting’ dirty. People stopped givin’ us rides, ‘cause we looked like hobos. We wandered around for a while, until we ran into a few other ‘bos. They pointed us to a place where we could get some food and sleep for a while. We learned more about hoboin’ that day than I ever learned about anythin’ in school.
In the Hooverville in South Carolina, lots of hobos lived in close contact with other hobos. I remember everybody sharin’ their stuff with the other ‘bos. I’d give away a pair of socks for a shirt, or a blanket for some shoes. It was in South Carolina when I heard my first Fireside Chat. One of the ‘bos had stolen a radio from some store, and the entire town was out lookin’ for some decent batteries to listen to it. President Roosevelt came on the radio and started talkin’ about the Depression and some other economical stuff. I don’t really remember what he said, but I remember feelin’ all warm and happy after the talk, like the Depression was just a little problem about to be over.
We stayed in that Hooverville for maybe a week, livin’ with other ‘bos an’ eatin’ their food. We had been eatin’ some weird stuff since we left home, but never anything like mulligan stew. Mulligan stew is a combination of all the food that the ‘bos got, mixed up in a pot. Sometimes it’s real good, with potatoes and carrots, but sometimes its got cardboard and shoelaces. The ‘bos started tellin’ us ‘bout other Hoovervilles and places where ‘bos could go to live. Me and Johnny figured out that the best hoboin’ was in California.
After a good week in South Carolina, me and Johnny jumped onto a train goin’ west. Our first night on a train, we fell asleep real quick. About ten minutes into the ride, when me and Johnny were fast asleep, one of the bulls what was patrollin’ the cars tossed us right off the train. We woke up in the air headed for a wildflower meadow. He was a nice bull though, because about ten seconds later he threw our bag at us.
Right now, it is August 7th, 1933. I am now twelve years old, and Johnny is seventeen. Me and Johnny are stuck in the middle of Kansas, in the middle of the dust bowl. We’ve been tryin’ to get work as farmers, but nobody’s wantin’ to hire to ‘bos when there ain’t enough work for the locals. Me and Johnny been tryin’ to get outta this state, but every time we go ridin’ the rails, one of the bulls catches us and tosses us off. Between us, me and Johnny have seven cents, but we’re savin’ it in case we get into real danger, like of starvation or the damn seventeen syllable disease. Our goal is to get to California and start ‘boin’ there, ‘cause we hear it’s the best. Until then, me and Johnny’ll be ridin’ the rails, lookin’ for some food and a bed.
