Hank The Hobo’s Metamorphosis

MARY PANGBORN :RURAL LIFE

The hobo and his bindle, once an American institution.

In the days when Oneonta was an active railroad town, it was not unusual to have four or five freight trains loaded with coal from Pennsylvania and West Virginia come into the yards.
Along with the freight also came the human cargo – the hobos.
It was not long before the hobo community was established, In the area approximately where Oneida Street merges into what is now Southside.
The hoboes were a highly organized group. There were the young men (the pups), middle aged men (working dogs) and the older men (the Airedales ).
They melded marvelously into one community, the hobos. One of their number, a “pup” is the basis for our story.
At this same time, Gilbert Lake State Park was readying for its official opening. It required a lot of manual labor, especially in readying the grounds for parking, picnicking and the making of trails around the heavily forested area.
Mr. Stowell, newly appointed manager of the park, looked to the CCC (Civilian Conservation Corps) for possible recruits. Would any of the hobos volunteer to help? It looked like a long shot, but was worth a try.
Approaching the hobo camp, the proposition was laid before them. Many were accustomed to their free ways of life, but one young man, Hank, showed an interest.
He was interviewed by Mr. Stowell and given a try-out period in which to determine his abilities and convert him to a new way of life.
Dad worked in the roundhouse of the Oneonta railroad yards and offered to take Hank to Gilbert Lake for his apprenticeship in a new field.
Under the unshaven face and tattered clothes, Mr. Stowell saw the makings of a dedicated employee. Hank was assigned to assisting the parking-lot construction, and took to his duties as a duck to water. He was especially amazed at the privilege of having a room in the barracks, and the certainty of three hearty meals a day.
He liked the work, the other men, and the fact that he was doing a really constructive job. Mr. Stowell was struck by his dedication to his work and his personality. So he became a member of the CCC in all its phases.  He advanced in rank to become the supervisor of the ground crew. His duties included overseeing the grounds maintenance in its many forms.
One day when Dad was in the barber shop, in walked Hank in his uniform. The dapper gray-green dress of the CCC boys, his high-top shoes and his unmistakable pride in his new appearance was clearly evident.
“And to top it all off, I’m being paid for working,” he said, a tone of triumph in his voice. Hank continued in his work with the CCC until the official opening of the park. Having no family or ties to speak of, when the park opened, he was recommended for a transfer to the Finger Lakes region, where another state park was in the making.
As far as we could remember, Hank was making great strides in his new work. He was familiar with the routine, and fared well in his new surroundings.
The last time we saw Hank was in Oneonta when Dad took him to the railroad station for a ride to his new destination in the passenger car.
His last words were, “Boy, this beats everything. Riding in a railroad car instead of on it.”
Mary Pangborn, who lives in Cooperstown, was raised on a farm in Laurens.