© 2006 All Rights Reserved. Do not distribute or repurpose this work without written permission from the copyright holder(s).
Printed from https://www.damninteresting.com/curio/the-hobo-code/
During times of economic hardship, people turn to the road to see if they can make their luck somewhere else. As such, back in the days of the Great Depression, the U.S. saw an increase in the hobo population. Walking along long roads or hitching rides on trains, these hobos would travel about, looking for a place where they could get lucky and find a better home. Of course, such a life of wanderlust was difficult, especially since one has to travel without knowing anything of the landscape or local populace.
To combat this ignorance, the hobos came up with an ingenious sign language to communicate to each other along the way. This is not like the sign language that hearing-impaired people use to communicate; rather, it was markings and drawings that hobos would leave along the road for their fellow travelers. Whether a sign told others of locations of important places in town, the attitudes of the locals to tramps, or the best places to beg, the hobo sign language helped many get by in hard times.
The variety of messages passed between hobos are incredible. There are some basic traveling symbols such as “go this way,” “don’t go that way,” or “get out fast.” Then there’s praises and warnings of the locals – “doctor, no charge,” “police officer lives here, not kind to tramps,” “dangerous neighborhood,” “you may sleep in barn.” Some of my favorites messages I’ve heard of are “good lady lives here, tell a hard luck story,” “fake illness here,” “road spoiled, full of other hobos.”
Hobo signs were typically drawn onto utility poles using charcoal or some other type of temporary writing material that would wash out in time with the weather. Sometimes they would write on railroad trestle abutments, outcropping rocks, or even on houses when referring to those who lived inside. Billboards, when they first appeared, were also prime places for signs. When more automobiles, and consequentially more roads, were built, hobos created their own extensive system for charting routes for those who would travel the highway.
The hobo sign language was hardly a formal system, constantly in flux, thus much of the hobo sign language has been lost to time. The signs had to keep up with new ways of life (such as the addition of roads), and like most languages it had its own dialects in different parts of the country. Also, the signs were often changed when it became evident that locals were writing hobo signs for their own amusement. One had to keep meeting up at hobo gathering spots to stay on top of the current system.
© 2006 All Rights Reserved. Do not distribute or repurpose this work without written permission from the copyright holder(s).
Printed from https://www.damninteresting.com/curio/the-hobo-code/
Since you enjoyed our work enough to print it out, and read it clear to the end, would you consider donating a few dollars at https://www.damninteresting.com/donate ?
The first rule of Hobo Club is: You do not talk about Hobo Club!
The second rule of Hobo Club is : YOU DO NOT TALK ABOUT HOBO CLUB!!
Third Rule: No feet on the couch :P
When I was little I told my mum that I wanted to be a hobo when I grew up. She told me I couldn’t and, thus, we see another small child’s dreams relentlessly crushed under the cruel pain of adult reality…*sigh*.
“hitching rides on trains” We call it “hoppin a freight” most engineers and bulls (railroad police) wont just let you “hitch a ride” on a train. And Haley… you can still be a Hobo, never give up the dream.
Hayley said: “When I was little I told my mum that I wanted to be a hobo when I grew up. She told me I couldn’t and, thus, we see another small child’s dreams relentlessly crushed under the cruel pain of adult reality…*sigh*.”
You poor deprived child.
Hayley said: “When I was little I told my mum that I wanted to be a hobo when I grew up. She told me I couldn’t and, thus, we see another small child’s dreams relentlessly crushed under the cruel pain of adult reality…*sigh*.”
qq
I heard that hobos now communicate entirely by telepathy.
Mark said: “I heard that hobos now communicate entirely by telepathy.”
i sensed that hobos now communicate entirely by telepathy
I once gave a Hobo a sandwich… I wonder what the symbol was…
Reminds me of “warchalking” (drawing arcane symbols on the pavement to indicate free wireless). Innaresting!
In Australia, Hobo’s no code or language. If they can manage to get past you’re front door without breaking it i.e. If you were stupid enough to leave it open, they can come in, sit on the floor, demand to be given water and food and here’s the thing: Legally, YOU HAVE TO. It’s a very very old law, but it’s still in effect. And they won’t leave until you give them something. And if you leave the house to get assistance, they’ll squat in your house and NEVER leave. Those hobo bastards.
The Moral is: Never leave your door unlocked!
During the Slaved Era, elaborate quilts were made to help those running away do so safely. The slave owners of the quilt makers had no idea they were creating several quilts to communicate. They would hang them out a window “to air out” and there were several “signs.” This way is safe. Not safe, travel Westward. Safe House. Danger. Well, I kind of made them up from what I “remember.”
At this point I feel the need to recommend John Hodgeman’s book “The Areas of My Expertise”, which contains a detailed account of the Hobo War and more on the Hobo Code, including the dreaded symbol signaling the hobos to rise up and overthrow the government.
I am a hobo.
○╖╞ »
I just want to point out that this custom is much older that the North American hoboes.
The Roma (“Gypsies”) have been using a system of symbols to mark this kind of information for hundreds of years. In the Roman language, the markers are called patrin (which I think means “leaf”). Patrin were innocuous markers or signs or messages–often made of twigs, flowers and other natural materials–found at the roadside, sometimes tied with a thin ribbon or cloth, and used by traveling Gypsies to give directions and advice to other Gypsies.
icenine said: ○╖╞ »
I surrender. Also, thank you for providing only the first part of your telepathic message in written form. It would have been embarrasing for all those already under the spell of your global conquest.
So, wireless laptop users are the modern iteration of the hobo?
Abe Simpson: See, these are hobo signs! Good food… Sexy daughter… Mass hobo grave in cellar! NYAAH!!
Kafka: sucks for you then. Over here, I just grab my double-barreled shotgun and point it in their face…get the fuck out!
1c3d0g said: “Kafka: sucks for you then. Over here, I just grab my double-barreled shotgun and point it in their face…get the fuck out!”
I use Soy Propulsion.
Good article!
I finally decided to join the club…
I really didn’t want to, the hobos made me do it (the sign they used looked like they were bending something over and thrusting their hips, whatever that means…)
Kafka said: “In Australia, Hobo’s no code or language. If they can manage to get past you’re front door without breaking it i.e. If you were stupid enough to leave it open, they can come in, sit on the floor, demand to be given water and food and here’s the thing: Legally, YOU HAVE TO. It’s a very very old law, but it’s still in effect. And they won’t leave until you give them something. And if you leave the house to get assistance, they’ll squat in your house and NEVER leave. Those hobo bastards.
The Moral is: Never leave your door unlocked!”
Stop telling bullshit stories about Australia.
Seems I remember a George C. Scott movie that was about the hard life of the hobo and one who took a challenge to hop a freight that was impossible, due to a sadistic ‘bull’ whose motto was apparently “No Free Rides”. Probably romanticizing some really hard times and making the social tragedy more acceptable by inventing heroic characters to salve the guilty consciences of the oppressors. We didn’t destroy families, towns and entire aspects of civilization for the sake of class greed and individual wealth…we developed character, thinned the gene pool and helped develop creativity in the poor slobs that were oppressed and sacrificed to advance capitalism and security for the more deserving who know how to play the game.
Whoops! How did I step up on that soapbox? I just wanted a better view and then….. sorry, got carried away
bobo said: “Stop telling bullshit stories about Australia.”
Kafka’s story was a little far fetched, but we do have squatters law. I’m not sure how its enforced though.
A friend of mine’s dad had an unused Rental property, he eventually found someone interested in renting it and went to show them round, only to find a family living in the house. He eventually got the property back, however there was a legal battle for a while involved in removing them.
I remember watching “The Littlest Hobo”on TV when I was little.
That German Shepherd kicked Lassie’s ass.
Kafka said: “In Australia, Hobo’s no code or language. If they can manage to get past you’re front door without breaking it i.e. If you were stupid enough to leave it open, they can come in, sit on the floor, demand to be given water and food and here’s the thing: Legally, YOU HAVE TO. It’s a very very old law, but it’s still in effect. And they won’t leave until you give them something. And if you leave the house to get assistance, they’ll squat in your house and NEVER leave. Those hobo bastards.
The Moral is: Never leave your door unlocked!”
Kafka, I don’t know where the hell in Australia you’re from but I think there might be *hobo sign* bad water there… I for one leave my back door open and have never been accosted by hoboes… and have never heard of that law despite being a law graduate.
But then I have to admit that I’ve never represented anyone who has been invaded by hoboes.
Damn Interesting!
cornerpocket said: “Seems I remember a George C. Scott movie that was about the hard life of the hobo and one who took a challenge to hop a freight that was impossible, due to a sadistic ‘bull’ whose motto was apparently “No Free Rides”. Probably romanticizing some really hard times and making the social tragedy more acceptable by inventing heroic characters to salve the guilty consciences of the oppressors. We didn’t destroy families, towns and entire aspects of civilization for the sake of class greed and individual wealth…we developed character, thinned the gene pool and helped develop creativity in the poor slobs that were oppressed and sacrificed to advance capitalism and security for the more deserving who know how to play the game.”
LOL – I enjoyed your own comment on the “comment” above. I was perplexed but moved on as I felt it was a bit too much for me to decipher at 7:15 AM….and then your next comment was very amusing.
Hobos in this country go back to the US civil war in the mid 19th century. Soldiers who had been discharged, particularly from the South, struggled to find work. Often they would hit the road looking to find farms where they could hire themselves out as laborers. The carried very little with them, normally just a bundle of whatever few belongings they had and, often, a hoe for doing the farm work. These “Hoe Boys” eventually just became known as hobos.
These “Hoe Boys” eventually just became known as hobos.
Stop telling bullshit stories about the US.
hehe
albatrossish said: “Reminds me of “warchalking” (drawing arcane symbols on the pavement to indicate free wireless). Innaresting!”
The idea of the Hobo Code was instrumental in the creation of Warchalking. Someone read a similar article and appropriated the technique!
I heard all about this! It’s in the papers right now!!! See: there’s this group in Rome called Opus Dei who is hiding secrets about what religeon is REALLY all about, so they send out this weird-ass albino monk who hops a frieght and chases people all over, and then Tom Hanks and that hot French babe find out a hobo developed some sort of code because he was married to Mary Magdelene and had babies named Mona Lisa, then Anna Nicole sued him and took his money and ran off with the monk, all that. So the moral of the story is: hobos are Catholics, right?
Dit dit dit, dah dah dah, dit dit dit…
Well, this is all good, just so long as the hobos aren’t GANGSTA HOBOS.
Asshe said: “Kafka, I don’t know where the hell in Australia you’re from but I think there might be *hobo sign* bad water there… I for one leave my back door open and have never been accosted by hoboes… and have never heard of that law despite being a law graduate.
But then I have to admit that I’ve never represented anyone who has been invaded by hoboes.
Damn Interesting!”
I’ve known someone who lives in Sydney Inner West area who has had someone walk in their front door, sit on their couch and refuse to move until they fed them. The police were called and the person was ejected.
They were completely harmless, but the event did shake my friends sense of personal security a bit.
Once I gave a “hobo”outside MacDonald’s a meal, because I was feeling generous. But as I drove away, in the rear view mirror, I saw him throw it into the bushes!!! Stupid drunk/drugged guys.
My dad showed me a whole page of hobo symbols to me once.
In case you’re interested, these are referenced in the film The Magnet, a not-very-funny British comedy film from a generation or two back that nobody younger than 50 except (for some reason) my mother would have seen.
Kafka said: “In Australia, Hobo’s no code or language. If they can manage to get past you’re front door without breaking it i.e. If you were stupid enough to leave it open, they can come in, sit on the floor, demand to be given water and food and here’s the thing: Legally, YOU HAVE TO. It’s a very very old law, but it’s still in effect. And they won’t leave until you give them something. And if you leave the house to get assistance, they’ll squat in your house and NEVER leave. Those hobo bastards.
The Moral is: Never leave your door unlocked!”
Thanks Kafka, you have just made me feel ashamed to be associated with you; that is, we are both Aussies. Damn you and your bad grammar! (It’s ‘your,’ not ‘you’re.’)
That is, if you actually are Australian.
Had my share of hobo’ing as a youngster, spent time in the Knoxville Chain Gang in the 60’s for riding freights and escaped after 5 days , a real hell hole. But wouldn’t trade the memories for nothing.
Looks like somebody’s been beaking the first and second rules.
Looks like somebody’s been breaking the first and second rules.
i once was a hobo but than i found a hot gay man we
had some fun
wat r these gay rules u keep talking about
hi james
rev.felix said: “Looks like somebody’s been breaking the first and second rules.”
stupie quotes
jaker said: “wat r these gay rules u keep talking about”
Ever heard of fight club?
lol, “you’re” is short for “you are”.
What makes more sense:
1) Never leave you are door open.
2) Never leave your door open.
Personally I think No.2 looks better. He was right is “your” not “you are”
OMG! This is so cool! OMG! Yes i know i am crazy. Oh and by the way there is like a ton of other web sites that say different stuff for the signs. can anyone like tell which one really means?
Nothing beats the hobo life, stabbing people with my hobo knife.
!
A quick boot to the skull and they would rather quickly or get a flying lesson for free .
After this many years he’ll probably never see it but…
cornerpocket, the movie you were speaking of is “Emperor of the North Pole”. The title is the honorific bestowed on the “King of the Hobos”, the one all the other hobos look up to. In this case his road name was “A#1” and he was played by Lee Marvin. Ernest Borgnine was the baddest-ass railroad bull (I can’t remember his name) and Keith Carradine was “Cigarette”, a cocky young ‘bo who wanted to be like A#1. It’s a great film. I don’t know if you can ever find a copy of it.
My mother remembers, when she was a child during the Depression, a Hobo knocked on their door and asked for something to eat. My grandmother made him a sandwich and a cup of coffee, then gave him a nickel for another cup of coffee on the road. People were having terrible times, and she had compassion for those who were even worse off. After that, she noticed that men would walk past the other houses on the street, and come to hers. She always did the same, a sandwich, cup of coffee and a nickel. She asked one why they only came to her house and then learned about the markings which told others which houses were good to them. She never turned anyone away, even if she only had peanut butter to give.
This a very cool thing I just learned about my grandmother.