Banks White, who is working just now in the University Laundry, has a habit of striking out to foreign lands simply because he gets restless. The editor asked him the other day to write an account of his travels. Banks said he had never been to school a day in his life and didn’t know much about the writing game, but he would take a fling at it. Here is what he wrote:
I was born in Chapel Hill. My father died when I was five years old. We were poor people. My older brothers had left me and my mother alone, but they would send my mother enough to live on.
I did the chores around the house until one day a boy stopped at the door and asked for something to eat. We have him a feed and I followed him out. When we was leaving I asked him if he liked to hobo. He said: “Yes. Do you want to go with me?” I was lonesome so I said yes, and so began a life of travel.
We caught a freight train at Raleigh bound for Petersburg, Va. I will never forget that day. It was in December and very cold. On arriving safely in Petersburg the next question was something to eat. I was getting hungry, believe me. By luck was with us that day. There were saloons there then, and we finally ran into a fellow who was drinking just enough to be free with his dough. So my buddy asked him for the price of a feed, and he donated.
Well, I felt much better so we decided to make a night ride to Norfolk. I got separated from my friend and was persuaded to go aboard a British tramp steamer bound for Cardiff, Wales. They put me to peeling spuds and washing dishes. I was pretty large for my age and got by all right.
When we landed over there the boat went into dry dock up the Bristol channel and I was given a two-weeks shore leave, so I went to Bristol, England, enjoyed myself fine those two weeks. Then came the home voyage. The boat took the northern course to hit St. Johns, Canada. It came near hitting the icebergs several times. Three days out of St. Johns a big storm got u, and that was a day that will live long in my memory. Two young apprentice seamen were washed overboard, but the boat never even reduced speed to try to rescue them from the icy water.
I got seasick and didn’t care much if I got washed over myself. They made me work, sick or not. We finally reached port. The boat was to take a cargo of leather on and proceed to Philadelphia. But I left her there and crossed over the border into Main and got a job in a logging camp helping in the kitchen.
That was where I made my first money. I worked there for three months and got $45, and felt that John D. didn’t have a thing on me then.
I was rich, or felt so, and left the big timber country and headed for the great west of which I had heard so much and finally landed in the state of Kansas, one of the great wheat states of the union, and got a job with a harvest crew.
We got up in the morning before daylight and worked until you could not see any more, and I got $1.50 a day. I made about $30 at that place and was satisfied to move on. I had not spent anything for railroad fare coming from the east—only for food would I turn loose the money which had come so hard. I got with a couple of fellows headed for the Pacific coast, Frisco, they told me. After finding out I had money they told me I could come along with them and they would show me the way to hobo right, and they did.
This was 286 miles from Denver. The decided we would go in a box car, headed for Denver, which we did. Well, when that train got under way those birds told me without delay that they could use the money I was holding, and they proceeded to remove it from my pockets and leave the train at the next stop. I stayed on.
When I reached Denver I was some downhearted. Not a cent in my pockets and hungry. But I had learned a lesson worth more than what I had lost. But I had decided it was foolish to work for somebody else—they would get your money anyway—so I decided to see more of the world. I went to Waymonin, and then to Utah, then through Nevada, finally winding up in that wonderful state of California.
I liked it there and stayed around over the state for some time until April, 1911. I was in San Francisco and found out that the Alaska Salmon Packing Company was sending men to various plants in Alaska. So I signed up and went up there for a few months, coming back with $60.
I had got the rambling fever right, so I proceeded to Mexico. Si, Senora. I could not speak Spanish then but soon picked enough to get by with. So I traveled through Sonora and several other Mexican states before coming back to America. I was glad I went down there for I had learned to speak pretty good Spanish and it has proved valuable several times since.
I had got to be a real hobo by this time. In fact, there were very few who could ride around me on any trip. I was traveling under the monogram, N.C. kid, which some hobo had called me when I told him I was from North Carolina. I honestly believe if you would look on all the water tanks of the railroads of this country, Canada, and Mexico, you would find that same monogram more than all others, as I have traveled through every state in the union, also Canada and Mexico, via the side-door Pullman, paying no railroad fare, and have stowed away on ships to foreign countries.
In 1914 I was in Seattle, Wash. There was a ship in port going to sail for Sidney, Australia. I tried to get a job aboard but the chief officer told me he had a full crew. I decided to go anyway if possible as I had heard Sidney was good and I was chasing rainbows then. So five hours before sailing I watched my chance and climbed one of the mooring ropes and got myself under cover in one of the life boats which was covered with canvas. When I knew we were well out of port I came out of my hiding place and was spotted at once by the same chief officer I had asked for a job. At first he was mad and said he would have me put in irons.
But on taking me before the Captain, who seemed to take it as a good joke, he decided to put me to work and pay me for the trip, which they did. I stayed in Sidney seven weeks, finally stowing away on a ship bund for China, port of Hong Kong. I stayed there until the American consul got me a job aboard a ship sailing for St. Petro, via Honolulu.
So I finally landed back in the U.S.A., and went direct to New Orleans, La., and signed on a cattle ship bound for India. I have never had any desire to go on another cattle boat and would not advise anyone else to do so, for they are no good. I have been on one trip to Alexandria, Egypt, aboard a British boat with a mixed cargo and mixed crew. There were East Indians on her, and about seven other nationalities, me being the only American. I can’t say I enjoyed that trip, for that was some rough crew and I was not sure of getting back with my life.
I am going to wind up by telling of my last two trips, one on land and the other at sea. In May, 1932, I was working at the U.N.C. Laundry and making pretty good when a spell of rambling fever came on me.
Don’t laugh when I say rambling fever, because there are many people in the world who have it. Only those who have traveled know how strong it is. But getting back to that trip: in May I went to Baltimore, Md., and signed on a ship carrying a cargo of tobacco to Antwerp, Belgium, and 18 days later we entered that port, one of the greatest seaports in the world. It was warm when we reached there, and I want to mention that before we got to Antwerp we were pushed up the Flushing river along the coast of Holland, and in all my travels I don’t believe I ever saw a more beautiful sight. The trees and grass along the coast were green, it being spring, and to make it more beautiful those old Dutch windmills all along, and in the background the various cathedrals looming up high above everything else. It is worth the trip just to see that.
But after arriving in Belgium I left the ship and went to Hamburg, Germany, and from there to Le Havre, France, and then down the English channel to London, England.
It was so cold there and very disagreeable, so I thought I would pass away a couple of days in Paris, as there are daily airplanes between London and Paris. So, as that is one means of transportation there is no chance at all of beating your way on, I gave the gent the required shillings, about $16 U.S.A., and went to gay Paree. Nice place, I leave it to anyone who has been there. Well, I had a limited amount of money and didn’t stay but a few days, and then came back to London and took a train to Manchester, the English city of manufactures, and was sent back aboard the Manchester Importer to Philadelphia, Pa., from which place I hoboed back to Chapel Hill.
I have since been on a trip to California and wish to state that the entire west is crowded with men at present out of work, as many of the industries in the West are closed down. If you are a wage-earner and want steady work take my advice and stay in North Carolina.
But before I ring off I just wish to say if you want to take a trip, wait til June and we will go to the harvest fields in Kansas and make a little money. I want three young men who like outdoor life to go with me in a new five-passenger Ford car. We will have one jolly good time and make some money too. I do not want companions under 21 years of age. Each must know how to drive a Ford and pay one quarter of the traveling expenses. Anyone wanting good advice on travel, free, will always find me a cheerful giver.
From page 4 of The Chapel Hill Weekly, Jan. 31, 1924
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