Posted on 08/23/2017 10:25:02 AM PDT by nickcarraway
The usual jovial nature of the hobos subsided Friday morning as more than 50 gathered to honor and remember their friends and family who have caught the westbound.
Silently walking in a circle, hobos tapped their sticks on the gravestones of the deceased buried in Evergreen Cemetery in Britt, while Cannonball Paul read their names and others observed.
This is to my darling granddaughter Angelina, said Minneapolis Jewel reading from a letter she wrote to her 16-year-old deceased granddaughter Angie Dirty Feet. Just for the record you are and were loved by many. Take a look around here for yourself.
Angie Dirty Feet, who died in June, had been attending the National Hobo Convention since she was 4.
Minneapolis Jewel described her granddaughter as headstrong, spitfire, and brave. She also explained to those in attendance how Angie got her hobo name.
Shed run around barefooted chasing grasshoppers and toads along the railroad tracks, and I think it was Tuck and Stretch who said, Look at them dirty feet, she said. Of course, she turned into a teenager, and oh, she did not like that name.
But Minneapolis Jewel said she knows Angie was pretty proud to be a hobo.
Angie never judged anyone and was open to all people, she said.
Minneapolis Jewel thanked her hobo family for its love and support the past two months as shes grieved the death of Angie and undergone some medical procedures.
Advertisement (1 of 1): 0:27 Both Angie Dirty Feet and Adman died within the past year and were specifically remembered during the Hobo Memorial Service.
Theres a renowned meeting hall in Britt called the Hob Nob, and a few years ago, a bunch of us were gathered there and a man came up who knew Admans business acumen and background and he came up to Adman and said, What are you doing here? said Minneapolis Skinny. Adman had a beautiful answer and it really summed up the reason were here today. He replied the hobo is Americas gift to history. Ordinary men and women who chose to live extraordinary lifestyles to be the last free man, and that sums it up beautifully doesnt it?
Other hobos who were specifically named were Rebel, who died of cancer this summer; Dougie Fresh, who died after a heart attack in June; and Great Northern Lady remembered her husband, Hobo Charlie Brown, who died last September.
He was a storyteller and he loved everybody in Britt. I miss him greatly, she said. He loved coming out here and getting together with his hobo family.
Hobo Charlie Brown was diagnosed with leukemia in 2016, Great Northern Lady said. She, too, thanked the hobos for their support.
The ceremony also included music by Chuck Hobo who sang during the burial of Angie Dirty Feets ashes.
During her burial, individuals were invited to place a handful of dirt back into the hole. Tears ran down many of their faces as they grabbed the dirt and threw it into the hole after touching the box with their stick.
The National Hobo Convention continues on Saturday and Sunday in Britt.
I miss the days when hobos would catch a freight train moving out of town. Now they sit on the same corner week after week.
Hobos have lost their work ethic.
Is it bad when I watch “Emperor of the North” and cheer for Borgnine?
One of my all-time favorites.
IMO, the smart ones took food, my grandmother was a fantastic cook, and always made enough to feed an army. I'm sure that they ate well while they were working, and took a couple of days' worth on the road with them.
It was a simpler time.
Now they are mentally ill and would probably murder you.
It would be nice if the story had some hint of where Britt is.
It’s in Montgomery County, just south of Springfield.
:)
The ones camping the corner aren’t hobos, they’re just bums :P
It is in Iowa, they have a Hobo festival there every year.
Iowa
This thread reminded me that I still have my father’s lifetime membership card
from the Hobos of America (Intern’l. Itinerant Migratory Workers Union.) Took me awhile to dig it up.
There’s no date on it, but it’s signed by Jeff Davis, King of the Hoboes, who was elected King for Life
at the April 1935 Hobo Convention in Pittsburg.
My father would have gotten this before he entered the Marines after Pearl Harbor.
It has the Hobo’s Oath on the back:
“I [...] solemnly swear to do all in my power to aid and assist all those willing to aid and assist
themselves. I pledge myself to assist all runaway boys
and induce them to return to their homes and parents.
I solemnly swear never to take advantage of my fellow men, or be unjust to others;
and to do all in my power
for the betterment of myself, my organization,
and America - so help me God.”
It was a very different time.
My Grandmother told me that during the depression, they’d come to the back door asking for food;
and then they’d make marks outside the house to indicate to others whether the people were kind and the food good.
Somewhere I have a pamphlet on how to read those and other signs of itinerant groups.
Interesting article:
Hobo, or ‘Tramp’ art is interesting, too.
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