Blog

Indian Plume (For Crazy Horse)

Indian Plume (For Crazy Horse)

Crazy Horse stole his first wife.  Black Buffalo Woman was married to another  man named No Water.  Crazy Horse just up and stole her and, in ...
The Healer

The Healer

In a  conversation I had years ago with the late, great bluesman John Lee Hooker, I asked him about his song, The Healer.  He cocked his head an...
Hudson King

Hudson King

There was no shortage of hobos in New York City during The Depression.  Along the Hudson River, there were were hobo jungles almost the full len...
The Orange Beast

The Orange Beast

"A train is not a man, and a man is not a train. . .” George Milburn, The Hobo’s Hornbook Hey– To live outdoors during The Depression was to h...
Sister of the Road

Sister of the Road

Nobody knows if there was such a person as “Boxcar Bertha.” Dr. Ben Reitman wrote her “as told to” memoir in 1937 and the feeling is that she w...
The Road Hawk

The Road Hawk

Hey– In Timothy Egan’s, The Worst Hard Time, a riveting account of the horrors of the dustbowl and The Great Depression, dust storms are rendere...
The Red Road

The Red Road

Hey– I elected not to go to the art fairs in New York this week.  I actually haven’t been going to them for a while now and I don’t miss them.  ...
The Hobo King

The Hobo King

Hey– I had an odd experience the other day.  I had accepted an invitation to be a speaker at the SEA (Self-Employment in the Arts) conference out...
The Quiet Dust

The Quiet Dust

“They scraped and planted and prayed and saved. . .then the black blizzards would come and take it all away. . .and the banks moved in like vultur...
The Town Without Mercy

The Town Without Mercy

Hey– In Timothy Egan’s, The Worst Hard Time, the dustbowl tragedy of the 30’s is chronicled in painstaking and heartbreaking detail.  The ‘Okies...
Toward a Glowing Light

Toward a Glowing Light

Hey– After my last hobo missive, my friend Paul Sanchez, the marvelous New Orleans songwriter and historian, gave me the lowdown on a song called...
A Blue-Eyed Story

A Blue-Eyed Story

Hey– My mother is 83 years old.  She will be pissed that I’ve told everyone this.  She is a child of The Depression.  Her mother was widowed when...