#HOBO DEFINITION SERIES#
Why the peculiar symbol for “kindhearted woman?” Or the series of triangles that meant “tell a pitiful story?” Or those two overlapping circles, which during the Depression entreated, “Don’t give up!” The reasoning behind some of the signs can easily be deciphered, such as a top hat denoting the home of a gentleman, or a crude skull and bones to mean “doctor.” A dipper, inverted or upright, was a temperance symbol - up for acceptance and down and sobriety.Ī simple encircled “X” was the high sign pointing the way to a sure handout.īut the origin of other signs by 1963 had been lost in the chalk-dust of time. Often they also would chalk down a symbol that showed a community’s attitude toward strong drink. They also would pass on advice on campsites and expected conduct. And a bum is a non-migratory non-worker.”Ĭharlie didn’t work, and he stayed in New Orleans.īut for traveling members of the fraternity, life could hold a series of crises that could be particularly challenging.Īs a result, fellow wanderers developed a way to tip off comrades to things such as the presence of mean dogs, kindly ladies and the law. Years earlier, he provided a definition of the difference between a tramp, a hobo and a bum. More than a year earlier, one of the nation’s better-known bums, “Charlie the Mole,” died in New Orleans. “During hard times, there were considerably more transients, just travelers who’d accept a job now and then to make ends meet and who didn’t particularly care where they went.” The story quoted Tampa Police Chief Neil Brown as saying there were few true hobos left in 1963. But in the language of the national economy, it could mean that hard times are here again.īack in the difficult 1930s, signs of that nature were so commonplace in some small towns that youngsters could describe several of them. In the language of the person who put it there, it means that a kind-hearted woman lives in your house. That article suggests to the reader: Suppose you step out of the house some morning and discover, chalked on your doorstep, a drawing that looks like a cross between a benign tabby-cat and a sausage.
The Herald noted that most of the markings described by Johnson could then still be seen along the east side of Plainview.
That article, published on March 28, 1963, relied heavily on a story by Ed Johnson in the Tampa Tribune. In 1963, the Herald offered a look at the fading “hi” signs of hoboism, which once could be seen in close proximity to railroads. To help out fellow travelers on their journey, hobos often would leave behind taletell markings to point the way to homes which had a reputation for generosity, as well as places where vagabonds should give a wide berth. “That’s because the man of the house would usually answer the front door, but the woman of the house would answer the back, and be more likely to have something to feed them.” “They always would come to the back instead of the front,” she recalls. She remembers hobos and vagabonds coming to their house from time to time, asking for a sandwich or other morsel of food. Draw your own conclusions, but Livingston's writing seems heavy on entertainment and light on truth.My mother, Barbara Mickey McDonough, grew up across the street from The Groves during the worst part of the Depression - first in the 100 block of Date Street and later at 201 Cedar. Livingston quickly finished his meal and beat it out of town, vowing never to return again. Three of the tattooed boys had grown up to be the sheriff, jailer, and judge in town and would see to revenge of their own if they ever crossed paths with A No. 1 he should encourage him to return to visit Mercer. The man angrily recounted the story, now aware that it was a hobo moniker, and told Livingston that should he ever encounter A No. Sitting down at a restaurant counter, he noticed that his waiter was one of the boys he had tattooed, the mark, "looking as bold and fresh as if the job had been done the day before." Sure that he would not be recognized after so many years, Livingston inquired about the tattoo. In 1910, Livingston found his travels delayed due to a train wreck and wandered back into Mercer for a meal. He did this as revenge for the poor treatment of tramps in their town, and none of the boys seemed able to decipher the mark. Livingston obliged their interest, tattooing his moniker and the date, "A No.1 - 1889" on the backs of each of their hands. They had rigged up a needle and stick and were about to begin tattooing one another. For example, later on in Hobo-Camp-Fire-Tales he claims that he came upon eight young boys in Mercer, PA who were inspired to get inked after seeing a "tattoo freak" at the town carnival. It should be noted that Livingston's books are generally accepted as greatly exaggerated stories, sometimes built around a grain of truth.
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