Evening star., 1932-12-17
BY DANIEL ROBERT MAUE.

BY DANIEL ROBERT MAUE.
With 20-odd hitch-travelers in Louis
vile, KY, took an early breakfast al
the Salvation Army's board.
Oatmeal in blue milk, bread ane
kitchen-sweetened coffee; such was tht
fare. The basement dining hail. les.
cheerful than the aoJulniag boiler room
where We had warmed ourselves before
eating, had only one bit Of decoration
a 5-by-8 inch blue card hung high ir
one corner.
God Answers Your Prayer" read thu
message thereon.
young guest. with clean. freckled
face and capable-looking hands, studied
the bright card for moment.
II guess I'll ask for a. matted milk.
he said. Then he went back at his
plate on the oilcloth.
The older men talked freely. They
called across the table as to familiars
The younger fellows said little; a
tousled one at my left said nothing. An
18-year-old at my right answered my
question with slow smile and in deep
voice. From Texas. Going to North
ern Ohio"
Line of Demarkation.
There seemed to hang, in the at
mosphere of the room itself, tacitly
accepted line of demarkation between
the four or five professional hoboes and
the younger men, who talked less with
complaint and more with hope of find
ing something somewhere" something
at which to work.
Jests, undecorated quarters, the quick
breaking up of the group outside the
basement door-where had I known
them before. I had the impression that
all this was familiar, that had some
time, somewhere been with an identical
group of men. The true significance of
this bit of impressionism was not to
come to me for days; not until had
abandoned the small roadster had
driven from New York City, had
prowled the railroad yards southwark
from ST. Louis and had ridden the
freight trains from Ell Paso to Los An
geles.
Those whose company sought were
the most restless young men and boys
OF today, the younger element of the
great transient public OF the United
States. Bewildered, but still resource
ful, the youths in unprecedented num-
ber wander from city to city. from coast
tn coast Without funds, they live from
day to day, sometimes off the perplexed
far through promotion of their own
charity.
Lynn Thompkins, the lame youth
whose story had heard the night be-
fore and which told in this paper yes
terday was one of these. decided he
was OF 100 per cent social value. He
left to hitch northward to Michigan and
the farm where he expected to find q
brother he had been seeking in New Or
leans. In my roadster I went out on
United States Highways $50 and so,
through Southern Indiana and Illinois,
to st. Louis.
A Parade of Wanderers.
II was Sunday, brisk and lovely day.
Men, women and children, going and
coming, were in great numbers all along
the route, on which they solicited trans
portatlon. The through passengers were
easily distinguishable from the local
travellers. The main body of the tran
sient youth, also readily recognized by
the experienced eye, seemed to be
toward the Southwest.
MY passenger list for the day was
fairy representative of the drift to the
NorthweSt-a small girl going to visit
an aunt Two towns from home, a mid
dle-aged war veteran and racing driver
going from Louisville to Vincennes. Ind. ::
village boy travelling 80 miles to cali
on sweetheart and Al Peshette, 21, an
Au-Callfornia end from a prep school
loot ball team, going to his parental
fome, In Oakland, Calf, after a swing
about the United States. He was a little
disappointed because he had failed to
hitch steamship to Cuba
Ih1s son OF an Oakland contractor
was never more than a deep-voiced
figure beside me in the seat. I had
taken him in frim the dusk left after
a red sunset. Cocksure, he said he
was still gentleman" He had left
nome to get out on his own-which
ne couldn't seem to find Pride had
Kept him wandering about.
wouldn't go back even now" he
eald. II 1t weren't for mother. She's
been coaxing me to go back to school,
Left Him in St Louis
He had first solicited with a crew
OF magazine venders in st. Louis The
crew manager had abseonded with AIS
due OF $50. AL went hitch-traveling
then with the son of the president Of
q bank In Salt Lake City. Down to
the Gulf OF Mexico, across to Florida,
up to Washington and the New Eng
land States, back to the Great Lakes.
and so toward home. He was particu-
larly pleased with himself over having
located the crew manager of magazine
salesmen by calling at New York City
offices. where he had punched that
worthy'S head.
Like great puppy, AL was exuberant
over himself and life. I last saw him
as he stood looking up and down a
brilliantly lighted street in the heart
of St. Louis
Arthur Schneider, 10, deliberately
selected at the end of row of CRAVING
heads along wooden bench in the
homeless mems registration office of St.
Louis. Arthur went with me to the
sidewalk before the building. ap-
preached him through questions about
routes out OF st. Louis, particularly that
to Kansas City.
ridden that way so often my thumb
got all swelled up
seated beside me on the concrete
ledge, his hands about his bare ankles.
he smiled squintingly at me from under
his tangled blonde hair and began his
long story.
Left an Orphan.
Arthur's mother and father died be-
brothers and a sister the orphan had
gone first to home" and then to
large, adopted family of a policeman
who was paid by the head"-Arthur's
words The policeman managed an
eighth grade education for the boy who
elderly man died Since then Arthur
had been Summering In st. Louis and
Wintering in New Orleans He would
within the week. leave for that South
ern city. There's a brother in each of
the cities. But their wives can't see
me-" said the homeless fellow.
His last steady job had been In St.
Louis cap factory 18 months before. He
had been, for Summer month, bus
boy on a river boat. He caddied when
possible He made few 5o-cent pieces
by exercising polo ponies. Or he simply
asked for the food and shelter he fire.
eliantlu Gould not rrnuide thrnll1h his