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The day book. (Chicago, Ill.) 1911-1917, November 23, 1915, LAST EDITION, Image 8

Image and text provided by University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign Library, Urbana, IL

Persistent link: http://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn83045487/1915-11-23/ed-1/seq-8/

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I L,LU-L2 HH??S3HH"P
-t'fir&'t
h
A bo may be broke,
Being broke is no joke.
His 'clothes jriay be torn
and his hat-
The scene of distress.
But, nevertheless,
A bo is a man
for a' vhat
NO AIRS, NO STYLE, NO NOTHING BUT PLAIN
HUMANITY BEFORE THIS TRAMP CAMPFIRE
practice to drop around at "the club"
every evening, get their feet warm
at the generous fire and go back
again to make their rounds of the icy
park.
"Be careful, fellows. Remember
what happened last year when you
let the fire get too big," cautioned
O'Neill as the sparks flew up at
the prod of ajstick.
Some of th'e men laughed. On a
blizzardy night last winter the fire
boat came plunging over the har
bor to douse their fire. Somebody
had turned in an alarm, thinking a
ship was afire off 12th st
The fire boat hose also had been
turned on one of the fellows and his
feet had frozen before he could get
A blue-coated, husky figure strode
across Grant park. Swinging his
night stick and leaning against the
November blast the copper headed to
wards a glow in the sky near the
foot of Twelfth street Down where
Van Buren st goes into the lake he
was met by another South Park pa
trolman, who was also walking to
ward the glow in the sky.
"Well, the tramps seem to be over to "the stove" a hot-air ex-
back, said William O Neill, the first haust m the rear of the Tribune
copper to Bill Jones, the other. "Let's
pay them a visit and see if any of
the old bunch are there."
The glow from a fire of railroad
ties cast a yellow glare over the quar
ters of the Tramps' club, which for
many winters has resorted on Lake
Michigan at the foot of Twelfth
street A big breakwater projects
into the lake at this point and the
high bank of the filled-in land pro
tects it from the northeasters and
'westers.
Round the fire squatted shabby
men tending steaming cans, of chili
mack, beans and spaghetti. With a
little rustle a cloud of dirt fell on the
face of a sleeper resting against the
bank. The red faces of the embryro
chefs, their eyes blinking from the
light of the fire, attempted to pierce
the blackness Burrounding their fire.
As the cops scrambled down the
embankment they were recognized
and the tramps who were scuttling
away were called back. "Old timers"
were there and they knew that they
wouldn't be taken in.
The "Two Bills," as the patrolmen
axe known, to the club, make it a
building the warming-up place of
tne loop.
As the night grew shorter raggidy
figures came silently over the break
water to join the groups around the
fire. Some produced a dozen cans of
food, others had nothing. It was
snare ana share alike; your luck
might be better the next night.
An immense dented coffee pot
stood on the smouldering end of a
tie. As this was emptied water was
poured in over the old grounds 'til
the late comers would ask whether
they were drinking tea or coffee.
Silence was plentiful in the tramp
camp. Questions and answers made
a little conversation. Even the cops
didn't talk. The rule of the Tramps'
club is. If you haven'B got something
pleasant to say, don't say it
What Mr. Loop Pedestrian gives to
the tramp of the street helps buy the
chili-mack, beans, etc., that sizzlps
over the tramp campfire on these cold
winter nights.
o o
Michael Grossman, 3, 8056 Colfax
av., fatally burned watching bonfire
in back yard.
-V 1 win 1 r 1 rarfftiifri'-rirfcaii
MaaaMMHMMaaaHHaMHai
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