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Tales from the Rails:
One Weary, Hungry Mile After Another
Norma Darrah of Seattle, Washington, hopped her first freight at Owatonna, Minnesota on a bleak winter's night in March 1938. Eighteen-year-old Norma was traveling with Curly, her husband of seven months, and his 13-year-old nephew, Harry Long. The newspaper Curly worked for in Kenyon, Minnesota had folded, leaving him out of work. An older brother, a carpenter at Casper, Wyoming, offered Curly an apprenticeship in the trade.
"When the freight pulled out of the Owatonna yard, we unrolled our bedding and fell fast asleep. Imagine our surprise and chagrin, awaking in the early morning to hear the train whistle, as it pulled out of a station leaving our boxcar behind. We were sidetracked only 50 miles from our starting point. Talk about inexperienced hobos!
"The next freight we caught took us to Sioux City, Iowa. We'd already spent most of our three dollars. I said I would ask the merchants close to the tracks for a handout. Curly didn't want me to go, but I insisted. Brushing off my coat and brushing up my courage, I went into the first grocery I came to. I asked for day-old bread, or anything else we could eat. The owner gave me a sermon on how a young girl shouldn't be grabbing freight trains, even with your husband, and what kind of man is he, blah, blah, blah.
 "At Crawford, we all piled from the boxcar and went to a hobo jungle across the tracks. The hobos had a fire going, with a big stew pot. An old hobo offered me some coffee in a dirty tin can. I didn't want to refuse his fine gesture, and took a sip. The worst coffee I ever tasted in my life. I swallowed it and prayed to God it wouldn't make me sick.
"The old hobo lifted the lid from his stew pot. I saw all kinds of vegetables floating in a greasy mess. The carrots still had their green tops on them. The hobo asked us to stay and eat stew with him, but I caught my husband's eye. 'Thank you kindly,' we told him and left, saying we wanted to look the town over.
"Toward 11:00 a.m., I could hear my stomach growling. The longer I sat there, the hungrier I got. I pointed to some houses near the tracks. 'I'm going to ask for food,' I said. A lady came to the door with a child in her arms. She looked me up and down. I felt shamefully aware of the dust and dirt on my coat, my muddy wool-lined ankle snow boots. I wanted to run, but my hunger was stronger than my shame. 'Lady, I haven't eaten for days. I'm awfully hungry.' She looked me up and down again. 'We've already had our breakfast,' she said. 'My husband won't be home for lunch for an hour or so.'"
"My heart sank, as I realized she didn't want this dirty homeless-looking creature in her kitchen. 'Lady, please, I don't want to eat with you. I thought you might be able to spare a sandwich.' 'How would you like a scrambled egg and bacon sandwich?'
" 'Oh, yes,' I replied. 'That would be a feast!'"
"This very kind woman fixed two hot sandwiches for me. I thanked her with all the gratitude I could put in my voice without crying.
"Late that night, we caught a boxcar from Crawford, rested and with fairly full stomachs. We awoke the next morning, as the train sided our boxcar at Lusk, Wyoming. The stationmaster told us that there was no freight from Lusk to Casper. We would have to hitch-hike the remaining 90 miles.
"It was just one weary, hungry mile after another. Late afternoon, my husband took his rifle from his pack. We kept our eyes peeled for a jack rabbit in the fields bordering the road. 'There's one!' my husband said. He brought his rifle to his shoulder, took quick aim and shot it. Curly started running; before he reached the rabbit, a hawk swooped down and grabbed it. Harry and I were so mad; we were nearly in tears.
" 'Where there's one; there's another,' my husband said hopefully. Sure enough, he spotted a second rabbit in the fading light and shot it. This one we got. We made a sagebrush fire under a bridge across a dry gulch. Harry found a sheep herder's wagon just over a little hammock. He came back with water, biscuits and milk.
"Ah, that evening we had a feast of the best tasting rabbit I ever ate. We finished our supper, repacked our gear and went back to the road. It wasn't too long before a pickup truck stopped. The driver took us all the way to the house, where Curly's brother was staying.
"I was standing in a wash tub of hot soapy water, with nothing but a towel wrapped around me, when I first met my brother-in-law. I think we were both pleased with what we saw."
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