Hobos not 'homeless,' but more like a family

CHICAGO | Do you want to offend a real-life hobo?

If so, calling them a "tramp" or a "bum" will hurt. But dismissing them as merely more "homeless" people will truly get under their skin.

"We're not homeless!" said one such man, who identified himself Sunday merely as "Grandpa." He was one of 14 hobos who convened at the Pullman State Historic Site on the city's Far South Side for Hobo Fest. The annual event at the site where George Pullman's company once made railroad cars pays tribute to the culture and contributions to American society of hobos.

"Many of us (hobos) have homes. We just like to move about a lot," said Grandpa, who added that the true hobo is always willing to work for his meal. "We're not looking for a hand-out."

The Hobo Fest held both Saturday and Sunday inside the remains of the Pullman factory consisted of various programs meant to educate people as to hobo culture. Arrangements also were made with the state, which owns the site, to allow the real-life hobos who came for the event to camp out on the grounds for the weekend.

Events included a hobo/folk music concert on the grounds Saturday night, and a Sunday afternoon event known as "Hobo College," in which skits were performed by actors intent on portraying historic details accurately as to the lives of those people who chose to ride the rails to travel from place to place, while dodging railroad detectives and other law enforcement determined to see them as nothing more than vagrants.

Paul Durica, one of the actors, said he thinks hobos deserve respect rather than denigration.

"These people were really migrant workers who did some serious labor," he said. "Many of the roads and bridges we still use are the results of their work.

"They are unsung heroes," Durica said.

Tom Shepherd, who helped organize the Hobo Fest, said he has noticed one trend from the many years that the event has been held in the Pullman area: There are fewer and fewer of them making the trip to the event.

This past weekend, only 14 legitimate hobos were present, out of the roughly 200 people who attended, although some of them came dressed in garb that was their impersonation of what they thought the hobos of old would wear.

Shepherd compared that decline to the similar decline of military veterans from World War II.

"They're getting older, they're dropping off. Soon, there won't be any hobos left," he said.

Even among those hobos who came to the event, only a couple actually rode into Chicago on a train -- most came in campers or other recreational vehicles.

"They call themselves 'rubber tire hobos,'" Shepherd said.

Grandpa said he thinks of hobos as good people, regardless of how they travel about.

"It just feels like a family reunion when we get together with hobos," he said. "It's a sense of belonging that you just don't find in many other places."