A-No. 1 - From Coast to Coast with Jack London

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THE Wanderlust which was the lifelong bane of Jack London would not allow him to remain at rest. Twelve years later he made another, also futile attempt to circle the globe without actually investing in regular tickets. He, his good wife and our jovial friend, Mr. Martin Johnson of Independence, Kansas, embarked on the "Snark," a forty-five foot sailing boat. They were unable to turn the coveted trick. After having strayed halfway around the world to Sidney, N.S.W., Australia, two years later, ill health contracted in the South Seas by the participants compelled an abandonment of an undertaking which stands without compeer in the annals of red-blooded adventure.

"INFAMOUS is your assertion that in New York City should be abroad even one resident so grossly uninformed of the miserable existence led by the roving tramps as to voluntarily offer himself as a travel mate to a professional hobo, A. No. 1!" Editor Godwin of the Sunday World Magazine protested, having overheard a corresponding comment I had broached to a reporter who was recording the points of an interview.

On arriving in New York City I had drifted to the editorial rooms of the newspaper publishing the best feature section in connection with its Sunday issue. The World had accepted my proffer to furnish an exclusive interview. A pencil pusher was assigned to take notes of my story which he was ordered to transcribe into a human-interest article for the magazine section.

Most entertaining was the tale of hobo life which I had to unfold. It reviewed an existence fairly brimming with adventures and experiences the like of which were never encountered by folks who trailed in the well-beaten ruts of legitimate endeavor. Of paramount importance was the circumstance that securely pasted in a memorandum I carried on my travels documentary evidence which verified the fact that my statements were based on actuality.

To this day when the possession of a most happy home seems to have effectually quenched the spirit of unrest which heretofore had driven me for more than thirty years over the face of the globe, I still treasure the humble note book as my most cherished belongingthe only relic remaining to remind me of the days I wantonly wasted on the Road.

Among no end of other most worthy services performed by the memorandum, many an envious "knocker" had his blatant mouth shut up in short order by a perusal of its pages. It contained records which irrefutably proved that I, who was a homeless outcast, had gloriously made good where all my fellows had failed to gain even a fleeting remembrance by posterity. There were recommendations galore donated by grateful railroad companies and others by individual railroaders for savingofttimes at the risk of serious personal injurytrains from wreck and disaster by giving timely warning of faulty condition of car or track equipment. And letters penned by appreciative parents of youths, and others by some of the waywards themselves whom by the thousands I had induced to forsake an unnatural existence which was the straight path to mental, moral and physical perdition. And newspaper clippings by the score which mentioned deeds worth while I had performedin many instances years prior to the time publicity was accorded them. And autographic commendations by a long line of national notables, such as Burbank, Edison, Admiral Dewey, three of the presidents of the United States, a governor general of Canada and others too many to enumerate in limited space.

By reason of this record and the fact that I was a total abstainerwhich was a case of utmost rarity with the hoboesI was regarded by newspaperdom as an authority concerning everything pertaining to the Road and the tramp problem in general. Therefore my loud-spoken remark to the reporter that there were abroad in every community folks who would blindly accompany a hobo, elicited the retort by Editor Godwin which was chronicled at the opening of this chapter.

"How will you prove your contention, A. No. 1?" Mr. Godwin inquired when I had reiterated my assertion.

"Allow me sufficient space in the 'Help Wanted' columns of your daily for the insertion of an announcement asking a traveling companion for a hobo, sir!" I returned, assured that my demand would be refused point blank.

Contrary to my expectation, Editor Godwin considered my suggestion. Making use of his desk telephone, he held a consultation with the management of the newspaper's advertising bureau. The conference resulted in the granting of my request.

In the morning issue of the World this advertisement made its appearance:

WANTEDTRAVEL MATE by hobo contemplating Toughing trip to California. Address: Quick-Getaway, Letter Box, N. T. World.

The afternoon mails brought a veritable avalanche of responses. Other dozens of letters were delivered by special messengers. Several telegrams arrived, some of which had prepaid replies. All had come from correspondents who had most greedily snapped up the tempting bait of the phoney advertisement.

The messages originated from all walks of life and were of every kind of offer and demand. Inquisitive inquiries predominated, as a matter of course. Again, many of the answers were dictated in a jocular or sarcastic vein. Some of the replies were of such a memorable character that I recall them to this late day.

One came from a patriarch who stated, that, though he had six married sons, he had all his days nursed a strange fascination for the outdoor life, that to satisfy this great craving of his he would gladly consider an acceptance of the position. Wishing to convey a literal estimate of his personal prowess, he frankly wrote: "Although I am right smart up in years, I still am as spry as a bad wildcat!"

Another letter of this class was forwarded by a brokenhearted mother. The unfortunate lady pleaded that her son, a reprobate, be taken away from the city as an only means of saving his unfortunate family further shame, if not disgrace far worse.

"Haven't I correctly judged the degree of ignorance manifested by the average citizen when it comes to a lucid idea of what the Road really is, Mr. Editor!" I cried triumphantly, when on wearying of opening the letters, which still came pouring in, we consigned the remainder of them to a waste paper basket.

"The material you have provided we shall work up into a story that will be warning long to be remembered by every soul who answered the advertisement, A. No. 1!" Mr. Godwin declared, at the time I took a final leave of him and his editorial staff.

IN the morning, and ere I quit the city for another destination, I called at the letter box to pick up mail which might have arrived during the preceding night. While I scanned the contents of letters handed me by the clerk in charge of the mailing division, I was tapped lightly on the shoulder by some one who desired to attract my attention.

"Pardon my interrupting you, sir!" a stranger said, excusing himself. "But as I noted by the address of your correspondence that you were the Mr. Quick-Getaway who has advertised for a traveling companion, I dared to accost you to request a personal interview."

The speaker was a youth of perhaps eighteen years. His five foot seven of stature, though of rather slim proportions, displayed every indication of holding no end of latent animal energy. A mass of rich brown hair tumbled well down on his forehead, shading a pair of gray eyes which gazed at you, keen and penetrating. At the moment they were a-smilethis no doubt due to the immense satisfaction it brought their owner to know he had stolen a march on his competitors for the hobo job which was so greatly coveted.