TWO TRAMPING EXPERIENCES
Two experiences in Germany stand out very distinctly in my recollections
of my tramp life there. The first occurred in Berlin, where, although I
was officially still a student in the university, I had taken a vacation
and secluded myself in the _Arbeiter Colonie_, on the outskirts of the
city near Tegel, Humboldt's old home. There are two workingmen's
colonies in Berlin, one in the city proper, the other at Tegel. I chose
residence in the Tegel resort because the superintendent of the city
colony was afraid that some of the colonists there might have recognized
me during my various visits to the place, and would know me when I
applied for admission as an out-of-work.
My purpose in becoming a colonist was to learn from personal observation
what good the _Arbeiter Colonien_ were accomplishing for bona fide
out-of-works, and also as corrective institutions for vagrants. All
told, there are not over fifty of these places in Germany. Their aim is
to furnish temporary shelter to the worthy unemployed men who apply for
admission and are willing to remain a month under the strict régime. The
colonists work at such industries as the different colonies take up,
and receive about eighteen cents a day for their labor. Each colony
keeps in close touch with the labor market, and tries to secure outside
positions for the inmates as far as possible. In winter, of course, they
are much more heavily patronized than in summer, but they are open the
year round. I think they do good in so far as they winnow the willing
from the unwilling, the genuine worker from the tramp. They also help an
honest man over temporary difficulties, which, without the assistance of
the colonies, might make him a vagabond. But I hardly think they are
necessary in the United States, except possibly as places where the
professionally unemployed could be made to support themselves.
My work in the Tegel colony was a strange one indeed for such a
place--sewing together straw coverings for champagne bottles. For about
eight hours out of the twenty-four I had to tread the machine, and
divide the straw for the needle. I hope somebody got the benefit of the
champagne we colonists were merely permitted to dream about.
The daily routine was about as follows: All hands up, and beds made at
5:30 in the morning, breakfast at six, prayers at half-past six, and
work at seven. After two hours there was the inevitable second
breakfast--one of the silliest time-consumers in German industrial life.
At twelve there was dinner, at six supper, at eight prayers again, and
by nine all lights had to be out.
One day, with two companions, I was sent on a unique errand--unique for
me at least, in spite of all my former varied activities and
employments. We were ordered to wheel a hogshead of swill into
Berlin--or perhaps it was grease. Whatever it was, it had to be
delivered in the Chaussee-Strasse, and we were the chosen cart horses.
The big barrel was put on a four-wheeled hand wagon, such as one sees so
often in Berlin drawn by dogs--sometimes women--and away we started for
town, my German companions teasing me (an American, so, of course, a
millionaire!) about having to push a swill cart in Germany. I retaliated
by doing just as little pushing as possible. I suppose it would have
amused my friends in the city to have surprised me at this task, but
fortunately our journey did not take us into their part of town. I have
never had quite the same feeling of humility as that which possessed me
during this experience. Indeed it preyed on my mind so that I soon
arranged to have word sent to the colony that work awaited me outside,
and that I should be released. I was given an honorable discharge as
champagne protector and defender of that which makes soap.
The other occurrence deals with the German police. It is worth telling,
if only to show how painfully stupid some of Germany's policemen can be.
Before starting out on the trip which brought me in contact with the
police, I received from the late William Walter Phelps, our Minister to
Germany at the time, a second passport, not wanting to take the other
one away from the university. I expected to return to my lectures the
next semester, and to take away my passport would later have involved
re-matriculation, or other formalities worth while avoiding. Mr. Phelps
very kindly entered into my plan, gave me another passport, and told me
to let him know if I got into trouble at any time. A former tramp trip
had taken me pretty well over North Germany, so I determined to explore
the southern provinces on the second journey. I was out for six weeks,
getting as far south as Strassburg. In Marburg, the old university town,
where I learned that tramps could earn fifty _pfennigs_ an hour, when
the professors of physiology wanted to have human specimens for their
illustrations, I had my tiff with the omnipotent police. With several
other roadsters I went about nightfall to a _Herberge_, or lodging
house, where supper and bed can be found at very reasonable prices. Soon
after supper, while we were all sitting together chatting in the general
dining and waiting room, a _Schutzmann_ came in. His appearance did not
in the least disconcert me, because I knew that my passport was in
order, and had been through the pass-inspection ordeal on a number of
previous occasions. In fact, I was a little forward in getting my pass
into his hands, feeling proud of its menacing size. "That'll fetch him,"
I said to myself. "I wonder what will be made out of it this time." The
pompous official took the sheet of paper, "star-gazed" at it fully three
minutes by the clock, and then in a surprisingly mild voice said to me:
"_Sie sind ein Oesterreicher, nicht wahr?_" (You are an Austrian, I take
it.) I declared boldly enough that I was an American, as my pass proved.
Some more "star-gazing" on the part of the policeman--then, as if he
would explode unless he gave vent to his vulgar officiousness, and
throwing the passport in my face, he bellowed: "American! American!
Well, you go double-quick to your consul in Frankfort, and get a German
pass. That big thing won't go," and away he stalked as if he were the
whole German army bundled into one uniform. When he had left, the other
_Kunden_ gathered about me and told me not to mind the "old fool." But
all that night I could not get over the feeling that the man had spat
upon my flag. I suppose, however, that the poor ignoramus was simply
ruffled because he had shown to the _Herberge_ that he did not know the
difference between an Austrian and an American pass, and did not mean
any real insult.