But mostly, it's for trespassing and other piffling matters. Most of the time people let us on our merry way. Today's hobos consider themselves Woody's successors, camping near the rail stations, trading tales of their travels. Like free-range chickens, our freedom makes us healthier and happier. Waters' council has no membership roll.
News largely travels by word of mouth.
But the annual Hobo Convention in Britt, Iowa, each August draws some 5,000 people, who show up for a weekend of storytelling, poetry reading and stew cooking. Many attendees are ex-riders and riders in spirit. We are rootless but proud. During the Great Depression, men would ride the rails with their hoes, looking for farm work. In the mid-1930s, some 250,000 Americans, mostly men, left the shame of hometown unemployment for the adventure of the open road.