Jim Tully (1891–1947)

I'm not sure what I find so appealing about hobo literature, but stories of men on the road, fending for themselves or banding together with others for temporary advantage, are fascinating. Seeing how little one can survive on--seeing the kindness of strangers--or seeing the horror of something like the lynching Tully describes near the end of this book. It all rings true and real, although I understand it isn't strictly nonfiction. What counts is that Tully could write with the best of them. His prose is straightforward, but not unadorned. There is no monotony, just solid description and the ability to put the reader in the middle of a pitch-black train car or a hobo jungle during a downpour. His observations, such as his high opinion of what he calls "women of the underworld," are convincing. The book ends with a paean to reading, citing some of his favorite authors and confessing to a lot of book thefts. Unlike most of the men he met on the road, Tully ended up thriving. And good for him. But let's spare a moment to appreciate the lives of the other men who lived by the code of the road and didn't fare so well. Tully's book is a fitting memorial for them.… (mais)

1924. A rollicking good tale of life on the road. Tully tells it like it was. He basically goes around begging and stealing and trying not to get too mixed up with the rougher criminal types. His depictions of incidents involving black people show the brutal way they were often treated among white hoboes and in society in general. It's not a nice or genteel book. He frequents brothels and isn't too kind to the women there, but neither is he entirely an unfeeling beast. He seems to be trying to report a faithful record of what happened, through a lens of his own prejudices, which I can only imagine must have been fairly typical of the time period. People are beaten frequently, injured and killed on the trains, and he witnesses a lynching at one point. It's a bit graphic sometimes. Overall, an interesting window into another era.… (mais)