CORRESPONDENCErnLetter FromrnNevadarnby Eddie AllenrnStill Riding the RailsrnThe onlv interruption in ?2 hours of dri-rning was a five-hour respite in a no-starrnmotel somewhere in western Nebraska.rnPlivsically exhausted and emotionallyrninebriated by the nearness of the destination,rnI marveled at the sight of a UnionrnPaeifie freight train, eastbound, in therneening’s final thrust of amber sunlight.rnIt steadih’ snaked its way through a lush,rngreen ‘alley in preparation for its ascentrnof the Pequop Summit. The events ofrnthe next few davs would etch that imagerninto m mind.rnAn horn- later, the parking lot of thernStockmen’s Hotel and Casino in downtownrnKlko, Nevada, became the site ofrnhapp’ reunions and long-awaited introductions.rnThe Nahonal Hobo Assoeiahon’srnRendezvous 2000 had attracted anrnunusual a,ssortment of souls, all afflictedrn\ ith wanderlust. They came to celebraternthe historv and folklore of the Americanrnhobo.rnWhile hoboes nowadays are about asrnconnnon as bowling-alley pinsetters,rnthere are still a handful of remainingrnpractitioners. Several arrived in Klkornfrom all parts of the country as ticketlessrnpassengers on a national rail system thatrncomprises an ever-decreasing number ofrncompanies. Omar, a youngish “knight ofrnthe road” who leads a life devoted to socialrnach’ism, had set out from a BurlingtonrnNorthern yard near the MississippirnRier in Wisconsin. He was almost embarrassedrnto admit that he had to completerndie last leg of his trip by bus. Bustedrnb- high-tech railroad “bulls” armedrnwith strategically placed video camerasrnthat spotted him crouched in the well ofrna “double stack” container ear, Omar wasrnpromptly detrained and escorted fromrndie property of the Union Pacific Railroad.rnUndaunted by the experience,rnOmar shrugged, “Things could havernbeen a lot tougher than that. I’ve beenrntreated pleirty worse.”rnFor many, the coming ofrnthe railroads in 19th-centuryrnAmerica made the urge to ramblernirresistible; economic downturnsrnin the century that followedrnmade it mandatory. Therndominant representation ofrnthe hobo is still that of therndown-and-out itinerant workerrnof the Depression era. Morernrecendy, grossly exaggeratedrnhorror stories of serial killers Arnand vicious gangs riding thernrails of America have had arncalamitous effect on the public’s perceptionrnof hoboes.rnThose of us who gathered in this highdesertrncountry in late July were given arnmore accurate view. One workshop,rndealing with recent firsthand accountsrnand hosted by Bruce “Utah” Phillips, thernhobo-cum-folk musician, quickly becamerna mentoring session. Utah (traditionalrnhobo etiquette dictates that suchrnmonikers are the sole means of identificationrnused among the ‘bos) was joinedrnby Ludier “The Jet,” who holds a Ph.D.rnin P’rench literature.rnThey politely fielded the questions of arncurious audience in the small exhibitionrnhall of the Elko County fairgrounds. Butrnit was apparent that their interest lay in arndialogue with about a half-dozen youngrnhoboes carrying the layers of dust thatrnthey had accumulated en route.rn”Never dangle your legs from an openrnboxcar door on a moving train,” thernexperienced Phillips cautioned. He explainedrnthat braking even a slow-movingrnstring of cars can cause the heavy door tornslide shut quite quickly, with fatal residts.rnHe leaned forward from his perch on arnfolding chair. Hands, usually ffsted andrntucked inside the apron of his bib overalls,rncame out to animate his instructions.rn”Look around for an old spike and use arnrock to lodge it tightiy into the door track.rnAnd sleep with your feet facing the frontrnof the train. In a quick stop, you mightrnbreak your legs, which is no good. But it’srnbetter than a crushed skull.”rnAfter about an hour of “jawboning” onrnsuch matters, Phillips made a last callrnfor questions in an effort to maintainrnsome semblance of a sehedide —somethingrnof a foreign concept—and a fellowrnwho hadn’t been shaving for very longrnfreight train meanders toward the PequoprnSummit near Elko, Nevada.rnsheepishly raised a hand. “Wliat are wernsupposed to do about women?” he asked,rnin a nervous but sincere voice. As therncrowd snickered, I braced myself forrnwhat seemed like a perfect opportunityrnfor one of the quick-witted elder ‘bos torncrack wise. Instead, Phillips silenced thernchueklers with a steely gaze. He turnedrnto the young man and spoke, unashamedly,rnof the toll that wandering ways had exactedrnupon relationships in his own life.rnHe was very candid in offering ideasrnmore practical tiian many p.svchologistsrnon dealing with the inherent perils ofrnlong-term separation behveen lovers.rnThe principal organizer of the event.rnBuzz Potter, edits and publishes thernHobo Times. The masthead of diis officialrnpublication of the NHA boasts that itrnis “published periodically depending onrnavailable funds.” An editorial policyrnclearly states tiiat the Hobo Times doesrnnot encourage freight-train riding, a statementrnmost likcK acKisetl b the head ofrn”Sunshine” tells of the days of hardrntravelin’.rnAUGUST 2001/31rnrnrn