Evening star., 1932-12-18
BY DANIEL ROBERT MAUE.

eve haven't gone very far yet"
Melvin Knight, II, smiled as we sat
In the half-Ight under the floor sills
of a warehouse. He casually stated a
fact that, like the freezing rain, had
been pounded into us during two hours
spent along St Louis streets and in the
West Side railroad yards.
Our clothing heavy with rainwater,
We had taken refuge from the storm
by crawling in among the squat pillars
supporting the big frame structure. We
needed breath, too, for a conference.
mo southbound freights out until
tonight" two railroad employees had
! there would be a morning 9 o'clock
miles s0 away. On % the eSderans border between cen
! Texas and Arkansas was our objective.
; Now, out In the rain since daylight,
! we had lost much time. were chilled
. through and had determined upon no
. definite course of procedure.
: Three In Group.
Dick Tracy, 10. made the third OF
our hitch-traveling group. He was chief
master of travel Melvin and I were
practically green to the whole practice.
No one Of us had seen the two others
until the previous afternoon. when all
had come together in Father Tim
Dempsey's long breadline in st. Louis.
Melvin had hitched motor car
away from his parental home at Ali
quippa, Pa, less than three weeks
earlier. The fact that his brother on
a hitch-traveling junket had not only
served In . Georgia chain gang, but
had returned home with frozen feet.
apparently did not discourage this newer
recruit to the ranks of the wandering,
bewildered and pennies American
youth.
Seemingly unattached, without OBJ
Jective, great numbers OF young men
and boys rove about through the 48
lectively, they form a questing move
ment of their own. I was seeking their
story. Many had ridden with me in
roadster had driven from New York
to st. Louis. Now I had abandoned the
roadster and would live and travel with
these youths over the railroads through
the Southwest and to the West coast.
Dick had taken Melvin and me under
his wing. He made his own home when
he could find employment. When there
was no work he hitch-traveled. He
crossed the continent as casually as
older folk cross county line. He never
GIdNcleo 1dI W1lilOut physical Sul1SIltlS ,
and when unemployed he lived smiling
ly, uncomplainingly, through the mental
agony stanch pride can give person.
Lost Mother When He Was 8.
His mother had died when he was 8.
A missing father was only black mark
in mind The boy lived in Los Angeles
with paterna1 relatives until he was IS
or until, SO he says, relatives threatened
him with Juvenile Court procedure.
They rode me with complaints" said
Dick.
He had borrowed so cents from fel-
family behind. Four years Of hap
hazard existence and hitch-traveling
matured him quickly. But think they
hardened only his exterior.
We three held council beneath the
warehouse We decided to cross the
Mississippi TO the East st. Louis freight
yards and inquire there for south
bound train. We left our draughty
shelter and made toward the free
bridge. Again and again We paused for
relief from driving ice and rain. Finally
we were at the approaches. IT'S hell
out there!" screamed a voice through
lee of a pillar. One motionGd toward
the long reach of the span proper.
forced US against the ratlings, but we
progressed. When we had covered half
OF long mile a man in bright green
coupe took us all into the vne seat and
few minutes later set us down at the
Illinois end Of the bridge
We turned back under the approach
and ran into the freight yards Eight
young men. none over 25, deserted q
filling station where they had taken
shelter and came after u.s.
Rugged Glowing Stove.
A yard employe directed us toward
the north switchmans shack among the
Illinois Central tracks.
The snow was falling in a long slant
when We reached the switch shack, It
was empty save for three long benches,
. table, telephone and pot-bellied glow
that
When the switchman came in to tele-
phone the yard ONCE he said our best
chances Of boarding through south
bound train would be at Du Po, ILL., A
rcut' of cars would be going to Du Po
Junction during the afternoon. Hav-
Ing been friendly. the switchman went
away. We would wait
we haven't gone very far yet" said
much OF our water-soaked clothing as
possible.
Dick removed shoes and socks. When
he held one of these last to the fire we
laughed. 1t had so little foot that there
was hardly telling what 1t was. He
saw me eyeing great holes in the soles |
OF his shoes, and looked down guiltily. |
He had assured me that morning his
SoleS were sound
Fortunately, about the time our coal
grew low, an engine showed a load of
fuel past the door. Melvin boarded the
moving car and tossed down fat lumps. !
You fellows know the train for j
Ca1ro?" With this head came In the !
door, then water-logged youth, wear
a suit-coat. entered and became one of !,
us. He was 20, from Southern Arkan-.
sas, and comm right out of a hot
place into a cold one"
Others Come and Go.
Other hitch-travelers came. They i
entered, sought information and were |
gone. All were young. Out of Calves !
ton, Tex, bound for Kansas City and |
North. Out of the Rio Grande Valley, |
Texas, bound for Cleveland. Out of Los !
Angeles, bound for Pittsburgh Out of |
Kalamazoo, Mich, bound for Los |,
Angeles or San Francisco. I questioned !
when I could. North seemed travelling !
South: South travelling North. The !
same for East and West. l lost track |
of numbers after a score had called !
In my judgment, not one was older !
than 25.
The youth in overalls continually
t.l~~ L. =