Hobo Lifestyles #2 - Hardship

by Tyler Carey

-Oscar Wilde, "Cry woe, woe and let the good prevail" from The Ballad of Reading Gaol.

Ah, Oscar, what wisdom you could impart on a mere whim! It's sad to think that all that you are remembered as today is a trailblazer of sexuality. As a friend of mine said after viewing Wilde when it came out, "Wow! You'd never know that man wrote anything. It looks like he just buggered young men." If there was a single Victorian hobo, though, it was Mr. Wilde. As Hunter Thompson once said, "Oh, a lot of great books have been written in prison." Wilde's The Ballad of Reading Gaol is perhaps the best, though.

Sadly it seems that too many seem to think that creativity only grows out of the hardships imposed by society - the notion that one must go to jail or something if they wish to be a writer, artist or prophet. All too often it seems that the up and comers create a self-imposed hardship when the lack of a societal one exists. Certainly, we don't seem to have too many great blues musicians coming from Greenwich, Connecticut, but how does it help to eschew one's entire identity in the pursuit of establishing a new legitimacy? There seems to come a time when sleeping on a mattress on the floor and eating oatmeal three meals a day becomes tiresome. It's very 'hobo-chic', though. I think that it's hardship by necessity that serves as the best inspiration. When the D.O.L. tells you that you no longer qualify for unemployment and even your roommates are unwilling to help cover your part of the rent…now that's hobo.

So, where are the Great Hoboes of New York coming from? Well, there aren't any trust fund kids amongst us, if that's what you're wondering. But no, most of us do not live in the Bowery, although most of us have come of age there. I think that's the case for most kids who have gone through the city during their teens and twenties. Sure, work or family may take you out of the city after you've done your time at NYU or the New School or moved out of our lower east side flop, but late at night, when you take the subway to the Astor Place stop, and you climb the stairs, and you smell that Bowery smell - that combination of exhaust, falafels, stale beer and maybe even urine - you realize that you're home. From there it's off to McSorley's for one light and one dark, onto Brewski's for a few more, back up to St. Mark's for a few slices of pizza, and then back into the mix at full speed, walking, subbing, running amongst the freaks, the buildings and the atmosphere. You're running at full throttle with your friends, and may the devil take the hindmost.

We hope the Great Hoboes o New York captures some of that. If you have your own stories you'd like to share, or just some feedback, please drop us an email at: tyler@greathoboes.com.

Best,

Tyler M. Carey
Publisher and Editor-in-Chief, The Great Hoboes of New York