The Stark County Democrat. [volume] (Canton, Ohio) 1833-1912, 1900-12-28
TRAMP CHRISTMAS
They Decorate a Tree with Tin Cans
and Old Clothes.
A SORRY LOOKING Celebration
BY the Worlds Lowest Men Out
In the Snowy Railroad
Yards. H..

A reporter sees queer sights in his
travels around the city. Some are pa
thetic and others are the reverse. Dur
ing the Christmas festivities through
out the town many trees were decorated
in an artistic manner. Some of them
were in churches and others were in
private dwellings. All were supposed
TO bring joy to the hearts of the little
tots for whom they had been arranged.
But there is another side to every social
question and the Christmas tree is no
exception. Out in a railroad yard on
the outskirts of the city there was a
tree that had no children around It.
1t was the hobos Christmas tree.
There was a keen touch of humor as
well as touch of pathos in the Incl
dents attending the hobos Christmas
Festivities. Early Tuesday morning
men in the vicinity of the yard noticed
large bonfire on the grounds adjacent
to the track. A lot of tramps were busy
arranging sorry looking tree, nearby.
The affair originated as a joke, also a
satire on the holiday, but before long
developed into touching scene that
reached the hardened hearts of the men
engaged in the work. They had prob
ably enjoyed the merry Christmas of
old. when they were happy children,
under the care of watchful loving pa
rents. The tree was a neat spruce of
fair size, procured-only one man knows
where. The tramps hung old shoes, old
clothes undershirts, tin cans and the
like on the branches, and sat around
their fire discussing old times. Every
man had a story to tell " his boyhood
experience with Christmas. Some of
them were from the south where fire
works prevailed during the holidays,
and others were from the four corners OF
the earth, as it were. When the tales
Of experience were poured out, the
meeting that had begun as joke de-
veloped into a sympathetic testimonial
and some of those bearded and begrim-
med creatures of fortune told stories
that brought tears of sorrow to the
eyes of their listeners. One fellow with
grizzly beard and hair sprinkled with
sand sat rubbing his dirty hands near
the blaze when the others called on him
for Christmas story. He reluctantly
began: Twenty years ago today, fel-
lers-it was on Christmas morning-my
old mother was too poor to give me any
thing and / knocked a little girl down
on the street and took a little tin soldier
from her. Mother whipped me and I
ran away. 1t seemed like could never
return to a decent life, and after stow
ing away on an ocean steamer and trav-
cling around the world for years came
back to New York to see my mother.
There was an old fellow on the sixth
floor rear who had been there for five
years and remembered my mothers
death soon after he came. / can't tell
how l felt, but she was dead and my
last word to her was curse. / got to
drinking after that, made some money
but lost It all in whiskey and women
and here am, twenty years nearer the
end and worse off than when / stole
that soldier"
Such stories were related one after
the other and the hobos around the
fire will remember that day, perhaps
with an effect that will prove good for
some of them.