THUMBTHING'S UP
by
EDWARD J. ZULKEY
THE CHICAGO LITERARY CLUB
4 February 2013
I think most people often wonder why they did various things in their life, especially when young. On reflection, it often seems we engaged in activities which later seem totally inconsistent with our general make-up.
In August of 1962, I was about to enter my freshman year of high school at Notre Dame High School for Boys in Niles, Illinois and was trying out for football. I lived on the northwest side of Chicago, just off Milwaukee Avenue, as was Notre Dame. It was a straight shot, as they say. However, back then, buses did not go from one town to another and the suburban bus ran only every 30 minutes. Although there was a school bus, it did not run during the summer or even in the school year if one had to stay later.
Nevertheless, I left home for my first practice fully intending to take the two buses. I took the CTA until the "end of the line" and started waiting for the United Motor Coach bus to arrive. With no premeditation, I found myself sticking out my thumb. I must have been successful as that became my routine for the rest of the summer and every evening through the next two school years. It was also my routine to get home from my next summer's job in Maywood, Illinois. Eventually, it led to several interstate trips which I will later discuss.
Initially, however, I would like to spend some time looking at the history of hitchhiking, its place in American culture, how that may have influenced my behavior and some of the key elements of hitchhiking.
The etymology of the term "hitchhiking" is unclear. The term "hitching" usually means to tie or connect, like a plow. So it is possible that it is like connecting a hiker to a vehicle. According to Elijah Wald, who wrote a book on hitchhiking in 2006, (Riding With Strangers), long after my hitchhiking career was over, the term "hitchhiking" first appeared in a magazine in 1923 (The Nation).
The attempt to obtain free rides certainly goes back to the horse and carriage era. I seem to recall both Oliver Twist and Tom Jones obtaining free rides into London in horse-drawn carts. However, the common use of the practice really started in the United States with the advent of the automobile. Once highways were built and automobiles started driving longer distances, hitchhiking became extremely popular. In 1921, a man named J. K. Christian was admitted as a member of the Chicago Adventurers Club by hitching 3,023 miles in 27 days.
While hitchhiking became more common with the development of highways in the 1920s, it really took off in the Great Depression. The New Deal even set up a Transient Bureau for hobos and hitchhikers which established over 300 centers across the country. Hitchhiking started to be referenced in works of fiction like The Grapes of Wrath and Of Mice and Men and the movie Sullivan’s Travels. However, the quintessential portrayal of hitchhiking in this era was in the movie It Happened One Night. Just as recently as November, 2012, when Ginger Strand wrote an opinion in the Sunday Review section of the New York Times entitled Hitchhiking's Time Has Come Again, the opinion featured a hitchhiking photo from this movie.
Just in case anyone here has not seen it, It Happened One Night is a 1934 American romantic comedy film directed by Frank Capra. The film was the first to win all five major Academy Awards (Best Picture, Director, Actor, Actress, and Screenplay), a feat that would not be matched until One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest (1975) and later by The Silence of the Lambs (1991).
Spoiled heiress Ellen "Ellie"
Andrews (Claudette Colbert) marries fortune-hunter "King" Westley
against the wishes of her extremely wealthy father who has the marriage
annulled. She runs away by jumping off their yacht in Miami and boards a bus to
New York City to reunite with her new spouse, when she meets fellow bus
passenger Peter Warren (Clark Gable), an out-of-work newspaper reporter. Warren
recognizes her and gives her a choice: if she will give him an exclusive on her
story, he will help her reunite with Westley. If not, he will tell her father
where she is and collect the reward offered for her return. Ellie agrees to the
first choice.
Not long after the trip begins, Ellie is
recognized and they have to leave the bus and journey on foot. After sleeping in a hay field, Peter tells
Ellie they need to hitchhike. She
expresses total ignorance of this mode of transportation and Peter says, "typical." She retorts “I suppose you’re an expert.” Peter then says he is thinking of writing a
book on it called “The Hitchhiker’s Hale.”
He proceeds to show Ellie three different styles of how you display your
thumb which show either your dire need or ability to tell the latest story of
“the Farmer’s Daughter.” Of course, when
he actually tries out his methods, he is a complete failure which even prompts
Peter to say “I guess I better forget writing that book after all.” Ellie then says “do you mind if I try?” and
Peter scoffs. Ellie then proceeds to
stand on the side of the road and, when a car approaches, she lifts up her
skirt and the driver comes to a screeching stop. As an aside, Claudette Colbert initially
refused to play this scene, but eventually changed her mind rather than have a
double show off what would purport to be her leg. After getting the ride, the driver eventually
tries to drive off with their luggage, but Peter is successful in chasing him
down. Ultimately, after some snags that
result in Ellie actually remarrying Westley, she runs from the altar and Peter
and Ellie eventually get married. Although
this has always been one of my all-time favorite movies, I am unaware of any
impact it made on my decision to become a hitchhiker.
There was also a famous hitchhiking drama
that I saw in late grammar school that should have played a discouraging role
in choosing to hitchhike at all. It is The Hitch-Hiker (not to be confused with
a movie by the same name which I will mention later). The story is quite eerie, to say the least. I know it as a Twilight Zone episode (Season 1, Episode 16, 1960, to be
precise). However, the original was done
on radio in the 1940s on several occasions with Orson Welles always in the
lead. I re-watched the Twilight Zone episode
in preparation of this paper and it still gave me goose bumps.
The story begins with Nan (or Ron in the
Orson Welles versions) Adams having her tire changed on the roadside. We learn there was a blowout and Nan is told
she's lucky to be alive. Immediately
after she continues on her journey, she sees a hitchhiker who does nothing at
all menacing, but somehow frightens her.
She drives on, but continues to see the same hitchhiker at different
points on the road. She eventually
believes he is trying to kill her. She wonders
how he can always be ahead of her. At
one point, she picks up a soldier on leave and offers to drive him far out of
her way just for protection. However,
when she keeps asking the soldier if he sees the ghostly hitchhiker, the
soldier abandons the ride rather than stay with her. Finally, she calls her mother, only to learn
from a nurse who answers the phone, that her mother had had a nervous breakdown
as a result of her daughter's sudden death from a blowout. Nan now realizes she was in fact killed from
the tire blowout. She is now reconciled
that she needs to seek out the hitchhiker and, in the final scene, the
hitchhiker is seen sitting in the back seat and says "I believe we're
going the same way."
Back in 1960, I doubt I pondered over what
the metaphor was for this hitchhiker.
After all, "77 Sunset Strip" came on immediately afterwards. Now I realize that the hitchhiker is the Grim
Reaper, who severs the last ties of the deceased from the living and guides him
or her to the netherworld. Nan was
resisting this trip by passing by the hitchhiker, but it was inevitable that
she pick him up. I think we can agree
this story would not have encouraged me to embark on a hitchhiking career.
One source, however, that may well have had
at least a subliminal impact on my decision to try hitchhiking could have been
the classic "beat manifesto" On
the Road by Jack Kerouac.
For anyone unfamiliar with it, On the Road describes events in the late 1940s. It was written in 1951, but not published until 1957. The New York Times immediately hailed it as the most important utterance of the "beat" generation.
Not to digress, but, until preparing this paper, I never really thought about the derivation of the terms "the beat generation" or "beatnik." To my surprise, there is no agreement on their derivation or meaning. Some say "beat" refers to weariness. Others say it refers to either music itself or answering to its own beat. In any case, the movement's main credo was to break from social convention.
Although
On the Road is written as a novel, it
relates the actual adventures of characters who are all identifiable in real
life. Apart from Kerouac, the most
recognizable is Alan Ginsberg. However,
Neal Casaday, who was himself a prominent member of the "beat"
movement, is the main character under the name Dean Moriarty. Time
Magazine ranks On the Road as a top 100 novel for the period 1923 to 2005. However, not everyone liked this book. Truman
Capote said it was not writing at all; just typing. In rereading it for this paper, I confess it
is difficult reading. However, its fame
derived from its feeling of exuberance and adventure. I still recall what captured me reading it as
a young man and it related directly to its title, On the Road.
In the early part of the book, many of the
adventures involve hitchhiking and spontaneous road trips. Indeed, apart from the "beat"
aspect, no novel is more connected with hitchhiking than On the Road. Some quotes
give one the flavor of the book.
First, Jack Kerouac's character describes
the people he likes:
"The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to
live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time,
the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like
fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars."
As
to the road he says:
"Nothing
behind me, everything ahead of me, as is ever so on the road."
and
"There
was nowhere to go but everywhere, so just keep on rolling under the
stars."
and finally:
"What is that feeling when you're driving away from people and they
recede on the plain till you see their specks dispersing? – it's the too-huge
world vaulting us, and it's good-bye.
But we lean forward to the next crazy venture beneath the skies."
In
the final analysis, however, I have no idea to what extent reading On the Road influenced me to hitchhike,
but reading it certainly did have an impact.
It was cool; I may have thought it made me cool.
I would next like to focus on various aspects
of hitchhiking. Those are motivation,
technique, safety, legality and quid pro
quo.
Why does anyone hitchhike? The most obvious reason is economics. It saves the cost of other modes of hired
transportation. However, inaccessibility
of other transportation, impatience and adventure all figure in as well. While it often takes great patience to
hitchhike, it often is impatience which leads one to thumb. I think impatience is what caused me to first
try it; my impatience waiting for the bus.
Still, there is nothing like the adventure. I hitchhiked for adventure on several
occasions even when I could have received a ride with someone I knew. Overall, I would say that inaccessibility to
convenient public transportation was my main motivation for local hitchhiking. Economics and adventure were the drivers, so
to speak, for my interstate hitchhiking.
As the Clark Gable incident in It Happened One Night indicates, getting
a ride is not always easy. You need
traffic and the ability of the car to stop.
However, the movie also raises whether technique plays any role in
obtaining a ride.
In regard to technique, I doubt how you
hold your thumb matters much in terms of hitching success and, while “the leg”
technique worked for Ms. Colbert, I doubt it works for most and exacerbates the
safety issue we will address in a minute.
However, there are certain ways a hitchhiker can enhance his or her chances
of getting a ride. The first is to look
presentable. The driver wants initial
comfort that you are not a serial killer.
I tried to always have some identifiable school logo information and I
usually carried the book I was reading at the time in a manner that the driver
could see. Next, if hitchhiking cross-country,
a sign was extremely helpful. It may
eliminate a short ride or two, but it greatly increased the odds of the long
ride, the hitchhiker’s dream. However, I
should add that signage is controversial in that some say it discourages the
short ride. The author I mentioned
earlier once recommended adding the phrase to the sign after destination
"but no ride is too short." I
believe the sign should simply state the destination in letters easy for the
driver to read.
This raises two other issues: refusing a
short ride, and should you walk while hitchhiking? My philosophy was to never turn down a ride,
no matter how short. Sometimes, you
needed multiple rides and never could know for sure if the long ride would ever
come.
As to walking while hitchhiking, I always
felt this was a mistake unless you were prepared to walk the entire way or
wanted to reach a strategically better location for hitchhiking. Walking suggested you were not really
committed to the ride. In the case of
cross-country hitchhiking, on the interstate, I believed in getting out at the
last rest stop before the current ride was exiting and hitchhiking there with
my sign.
While not a technique per se, the amount
of hitchhikers greatly impacts success.
Not surprisingly, being alone is best and two is second best. I once hitchhiked, as I will describe below,
with two other friends from New York to Boston, and do not recommend it. However, from the hiker's perspective, it is
the safest.
The worst situation is to have a competing
hitchhiker. Sometimes I would come to a
rest area and there would already be someone hitching. I recall several times on the street seeing
someone ahead or behind. What can you
do? Are there ethics involved? Is there honor among thieves, so to
speak? When this happened locally, I
would usually move on, at least past the next stop light. This left the territory to the first
hitchhiker, but I would at least get the benefit of turners from the crossing
street. On a highway rest stop, you
could either move to different sections of the rest stop or just wait your
turn.
Of course, going back to It Happened One Night, having a pretty
girl with you would not hurt in getting a ride.
In that regard, my final hitchhiking foray was in January of 1979 during
the great blizzard. I am sure my wife’s
obvious pregnant condition was a definite asset in getting a ride. No, it was not a pleasure trip, but trying to
get to the train.
I would next like to take up safety, both
from the perspective of the hitcher and the driver. By safety, I mean both the condition of the
car or how fast one goes, but primarily actual intent to harm. Oddly enough, I actually never experienced the
latter and recall only one time when the driver raised the issue. I will later relate one time where the safety
of the car was an issue.
In one of our rides from New York to
Boston, the driver kept saying "you guys better not try anything funny"
and said he had a gun in the glove compartment.
Since one of us was directly behind him and another next to him directly
in front of the glove compartment, we assumed he was just saying that and
nothing ever came of it. In other words,
this incident says more about driver safety than hitchhiker safety. One has to wonder why would this guy ever
have picked three of us up? The answer
is likely some combination of loneliness and wanting to stay awake overcame any
fear. Or maybe he was just a nice
guy. I will take this up again when
discussing quid pro quo. In terms of the driver’s safety, the safety
factor of having only one hitchhiker is one reason it is more successful. It is also one reason why appearance is in
and of itself a technique.
In terms of the hitcher’s safety, here is
one occasion where more than one hiker helps.
I liked to think I would have evaluated a high risk. However, maybe I was just lucky, but I
actually never recall turning down a ride.
Indeed, my wife did remind me of another occasion where we were forced
to hitchhike and desperation won over common sense. We were out on a Sunday night when co-eds
still had a curfew and it turned out my
parked car was totally blocked by another car.
She was in danger of a curfew violation so we hitchhiked. We were offered a ride by some "young
adults" with open liquor in the car and loud music playing. Partly, we were desperate to get back and
partly afraid what might happen if we did not accept. It turns out they were nice guys and the trip
went without incident.
In terms of driver safety, however, there
are two famous incidents which demonstrate the risk a driver takes on in
picking someone up.
In In
Cold Blood, Truman Capote relates the stories of Perry Smith and Dick
Hickock and their cold-blooded murders of the Clutter family in Nebraska. They are on the run after killing the Clutter
family. They needed to travel and needed
money. Therefore, they hitchhike with
the intention to murder and rob whomever picked them up, which they did. It was totally random.
Similarly, there is the case of Billy
Cook, a psychopathic murderer who savagely murdered six people on a 22-day
rampage between Missouri and California in 1950-51. This
included a family with three children.
It involved three separate hitchhiking events.
On December 12, 1952, Cook was executed in
the gas chamber at San Quentin Prison. At the time of his execution he said
"I hate everybody's guts and everybody hates mine." Cook was known for the words "H-A-R-D
L-U-C-K" tattooed on the fingers of his left hand and for a deformed right
eyelid that never closed completely.
This story also became the subject of a movie called The Hitchhiker.
When I think of Messers. Perry, Hickock
and especially Cook, two points come to mind.
Even though the driver makes the initial decision and selection (i.e.
does not have to stop), it is still the driver who is normally more at risk
than the hitchhiker. Second, what were
these people thinking when they picked these guys up? Once again, appearance, circumstances and
common sense should play a big role in the decision to stop or get in.
The whole issue of safety also raises some
issues about the legality/illegality of hitchhiking. The law has evolved over time and differs
from state to state. Initially, hitchhiking
was unregulated, but by the late 1930s some states had outlawed it for
"safety reasons." One
rationale was to protect the driver.
Another was to protect the hitchhiker.
Some statutes simply ban "hitchhiking." Typical of most statutes, most hitchhiking
statutes use obtuse language to ban the solicitation of a ride alongside a
road. In this regard, I was told in my
day that one could not hitchhike along the road or close to a highway entrance
or exit, but it was permissible in an oasis.
Some laws only restrict solicitation on highways. Some limit the wrongdoing to conduct which impedes
traffic. Today, the restrictive laws all
ban the act of hitchhiking, not the conduct of the driver in picking up the
hitchhiker. What was true in my day,
and, from what my research discloses as today, law enforcers generally do not
care or bother to enforce hitchhiking prohibitions. The paperwork and inconvenience of removing
the hitchhiker to another location are not worth the bother. I had two incidents with the police which I
will mention later.
I would like to turn next to the concept
of quid pro quo. What does the rider get and what does the
driver get? Why does someone pick up a
hitchhiker? As I alluded to earlier, the
term hitchhiking implies a free ride.
That eliminates a formal fare.
However, it does not eliminate all forms of compensation. In thinking about this, and taking into
account the risk factors, one has to ask again what motivates a driver to pick
up a hitchhiker? In thinking about what
benefit a driver obtains, I would list as follows: assisting with driving,
conversation to stay awake, curiosity and good feeling. I have heard of drivers asking for gas
contribution, but never experienced it.
One might say, to paraphrase Blanche Dubois, a hitchhiker always depends
on the kindness of strangers.
As for assisting with driving, I
encountered this only twice and will discuss in more detail later. Going back to my experiences, I would say
keeping the driver awake was a major factor.
Finally, as to curiosity and good feeling, that is hard to measure, but
is definitely a factor. And that happens
to segue nicely to a brief discussion of one other book where hitchhiking plays
a prominent role: Into the Wild, also
a true story.
Into
the Wild traces the
wanderings of a young man, Chris McCandless, who suddenly drops out of society after
graduation from Emory University with no communication, even to his parents. He ultimately ends up in Alaska and tries to "live
off the land." He accidentally fatally
poisons himself. Along the way, he
hitchhiked quite a bit and, from a hitchhiking perspective, it shows how driver
and rider can develop a strong personal relationship. The book is researched by the author going
back and finding people Chris encountered.
On at least three occasions, Chris ended up staying with the people for
days or even weeks. He ended up briefly
working for one individual and another offered to buy him better outdoor gear.
Although I read this book thirty years
after my hitchhiking career had ended and had never developed the type of
relationships Chris had with his drivers, I nevertheless could really empathize
with what occurred. When you are given a
ride and are sitting next to the person who picked you up, it is not like
sitting next to someone on a plane or train where you can open your paper and
ignore each other. When you enter that
car, you are at least committing to a conversation.
Now, if you will indulge me, I would like
to go over some highlights of a few of my multi-state hitchhiking
experiences. There were many others
within the Midwest. If nothing else, we
can see how my experiences compare to what else I have passed on regarding conventional
wisdom regarding hitchhiking. Of course,
like so many of us, I now wish I kept a journal of some type as all of my
recollections are being tested after more than 40 years.
In the summer of 1964, I had just turned 16
and, while I had been hitchhiking quite a bit locally, I had never hitchhiked
out of the area. Some of you may
remember that 1964 was the summer of the World's Fair in New York.
My brother, who was seven years older and
played tackle in college, had graduated in 1962 and essentially had been away
until that summer. It turned out that
one of his college friends was getting married in New York City and he planned
to attend the wedding. Realizing that
the Fair was taking place and that the White Sox were playing the Yankees in
New York in the days preceding the wedding, he invited me to tag along to New
York and we decided to hitchhike one way and take the Greyhound bus back. Needless to say, I was quite excited.
In many ways, this trip was an aberration
from most of my hitchhiking experiences.
After my parents dropped us off at the first toll plaza, it took us four
or five rides to get to New York and every single one wanted my brother to drive
so they could rest. My mother had packed
10 sandwiches for us and, for the first three or four rides, I simply sat in
the back seat and ate while my brother drove and the host slept.
The reference to my parents' assistance
begs some comment. I have been told that
many parents would have prohibited hitchhiking.
I doubt I would have sanctioned it for my children. While my parents were not aware of many of my
adventures, they had no problem with my brother and I going off together. Part of it may have been for my brother's
girth and part liking to see us adventure together. The fact that my mother took her brother and
three sisters on a trip across the country in the 1930s with her parents
believing they were on a religious retreat may give some insight about my
mother and her tolerance in allowing us to hitchhike.
Getting back to the trip, in what turned
out to be our last ride, the driver once again wanted my brother to drive. It was late at night and my brother was
simply too tired. Since I had just
received my license, offering me up was not really an option. My brother said he was exhausted and would
rather turn down the ride than try to drive.
The driver then asked me if I was a sports fan. After I said yes, my brother sat in the back
sleeping and the gentleman and I talked sports for 5-6 hours.
Many old friends claim I was a living
encyclopedia of old baseball knowledge.
In 1964, I knew everything about every sport and so did this
individual. It was easily the most in-depth
and lengthy sports conversation of my life, covering not only baseball,
basketball and football, but hockey, golf and tennis. We even discussed track. I did my job and we arrived safely somewhere
in Manhattan. I recently asked my
brother if he recalled this incident and he said listening to us talk was like
listening to a lullaby.
Since this paper is about hitchhiking and
not my week in New York, I will only mention two things about our stay.
First, the drinking age then in New York
was 18. While I was 16, I must have
passed for 18 and especially being with my brother and his older friends, I was
allowed to drink beer in various bars and restaurants. Life was good. We also went to a twi-night double header:
White Sox against the Yankees. It was my
first visit to the original Yankee stadium, but, alas, the Sox lost a
double-header. It turned out that the
Sox won 98 games that year and lost to New York by one game. Since 1964, I have been to at least ten more
White Sox games in Yankee Stadium and, to this day, have never witnessed a
White Sox win.
My next hitchhiking interstate "adventure"
was in the summer of 1966 and, again, to New York. My best friend, Jim, and I were about to
begin college and this was going to be a sort of coming of age trip. Our plan was to hitchhike first to New York
and then to Newport, Rhode Island for a music festival before hitchhiking back
to New York. We had a friend drive us to
the first exit of the Indiana toll way.
This adventure was composed of just two
segments. First, I recall the police telling
us we were hitchhiking too close to the highway. As I mentioned earlier, this was one of the
legal issues surrounding hitchhiking.
Therefore, we had to hold our sign as people purchased gasoline. This reduces the number of chances for rides,
but it allows you to at least make eye contact and possibly engage in
conversation.
The second thing I remember is quite
remarkable. A gentleman by the name of
Taylor was buying gas and, upon seeing our sign, told us he would like to give
us a ride, but was on his way to the State of Washington. We were still in Indiana. We told Taylor he was headed in the wrong
direction and that he probably really wanted to go to Washington, D.C. and, in
which case, he could give us a ride.
It turned out Taylor was a steel worker
who received a month's vacation for achieving 25 years of employment. His wife convinced him to go traveling by
himself. Both Jim and I immediately recognized that
Taylor needed companionship. It was initially
agreed that Taylor would take us to the point where the route to New York and
Washington split. However, along the
way, we convinced Taylor that he would be better off if he began his trip in
New York City. Taylor ended up taking us
right into the Port Authority in Midtown Manhattan.
A few other things come to mind about our
dealings with Taylor. First, he bought
us coffee at a rest stop. This is the
only time in my hitchhiking life that this ever occurred. Second, we drove for Taylor and we discovered
Taylor's car had very worn breaks which scared the heck out of us. This shows the safety of the vehicle can also
be relevant. Finally, although we
enjoyed talking to Taylor, we had no intention of "hanging out" with
him once we arrived in New York. He was
at least 30 years older with other differences that would have made being
together quite awkward. However, his
desire was that we stay together. With
some guilt then and still today, we were able to introduce Taylor to someone
else in the Port Authority, said goodbye and headed to the Sloane YMCA at 34th
and 9th near the Garment District where we enjoyed a double room
with bunk beds with the flashing YMCA sign flashing outside our window. I should also add that the Sloane Y was the
largest residential YMCA in the United States.
It was torn down in 1993. To say
it housed a diverse collection of people would be a vast understatement. It was also a short walk to Times Square
which, in 1964, was inhabited by prostitutes and drug dealers. That week was quite an experience. At any rate, the ride with Taylor was my
closest to a potential relationship like Chris McCandless' in Into the Wild.
On that same trip we hitchhiked to and
from New York to Newport, Rhode Island.
This was a colossal misadventure.
Our intent was to go to a festival, but it turned out it had already
occurred. Our intent was to sleep in a
YMCA, only it turned out it was not a hotel.
After passing by many of Newport's magnificent mansions through a foggy,
drizzly mist, we sat on the stoop of the locked up YMCA to avoid the rain. While sitting there, Jim ran out of matches
and asked a sailor who was walking by for a light. He seemed to be holding his stomach. He very matter-of-factly stopped to let Jim
use his lighter. We then noticed he was
bleeding profusely from an apparent knife or bottle wound. He gave the light and kept walking as though all
was normal.
In the morning, we went to the Catholic
church and essentially slept during a couple masses. I got the idea to go to the church from
watching The Hunchback of Notre Dame
and the concept of sanctuary. We then
went to the beach, slept, got sunburned on one side of our faces and immediately
hitchhiked back to New York. The only
hitchhiking event I recall from this trip was being dropped off in Harlem and
being quickly told things might be safer across the bridge.
My next hitchhiking adventure occurred in
May, 1967. It was an unusually warm
Thursday night in Evanston, Illinois and I was studying in my dorm room at
Northwestern University. I had no
intention of going out that night when some guys down the hall knocked on my
door and announced they had a case of beer and were going to the rocks which
form the barrier between the landfill and Lake Michigan on the north end of the
campus of Northwestern University.
It was a very sedate gathering. We had known each other since school
began. I cannot recall how many guys
were there, but I would guess five or six.
However, I distinctly remember one other participant, Peter. Peter was from Rochester, New York and did
nothing but boast all year about how great Rochester was. He was constantly comparing it favorably to
Chicago and I had found that irritating all year.
For whatever reason, I found him
particularly irritating that night. With
the combination of sufficient beer and listening to Peter run on about
Rochester, I finally said something
like: "If Rochester is so great, let's go there." Comments went back and forth until I
challenged him to hitchhike to Rochester right there and then. We went back to the dorm, packed a couple
items and left immediately. I remember
only two aspects of this trip.
First, I recalled how we got to the toll
way. Earlier I said that could be a
challenge. Well, on this occasion, our
plan was to take the L as far south as possible and then hitchhike from
there. We had no sign. We got off the L around midnight and started
hitching. We were not there long when a
police squad car passed and picked us up.
The police officer said: "Don't you guys realize you are right in
the heart of the turf of the Blackstone Rangers? Get in."
We explained what we were doing and the police drove us to the first
toll way plaza. That was a first and a
last.
The second thing I recall is that a
trucker saw us and drove us the entire way to Rochester. The driving distance from Chicago to
Rochester is 600 miles and about 10 hours driving time. We made it from that toll plaza in about that
time. I recall very little about the
driver or any conversation. I remember
we both sat in the front and it was tight.
I remember almost nothing about our short stay in Rochester other than
Peter's parents had just finished building a beautiful home and they were quite
mad at me for allowing Peter to embark on this adventure as he was not doing
well academically. He was very bright,
but never opened a book. Peter did flunk
out that June, but returned a year or two later and eventually graduated. This was my only ride ever in a semi.
My final hitchhiking escapade was in the
summer of 1968. We flew standby to New
York, but three of us hitchhiked to Boston.
As I mentioned earlier, hitchhiking with three
people is not recommended. Danger to the
driver and room problems greatly diminish the odds of getting a ride. Nevertheless, we made it in not too bad a
time. I can only recall two rides from
this trip. The first I mentioned
earlier. The driver told us he had a gun
in his glove compartment. We did not
comment and the conversation continued in a normal manner. The second memory was riding standing up from
Providence, Rhode Island to Boston in a Boston
Herald delivery truck. I remember like yesterday that one second we were
bemoaning our plight and inability to get a ride and the next thing we are
non-stop from Providence to downtown Boston.
There is a great feeling of exuberance when this happens.
The other thing I remember about that ride
was that I thought I was going to die. I
was the closest to the door and the driver drove with the sliding door open. I did not feel I had a good place to hold on
in the event he made a sharp turn. I
held on very tight to whatever I could grab and was tense the entire time. However, we made it without incident.
We returned from that trip by flying
standby. There was a brief period where
younger people were allowed to fly for an extremely reduced price if there was
room. You purchased the reduced ticket
and then took your chances. Normally,
for routes with a lot of flights, like New York or Boston, it was usually not a
problem. However, we returned on the
Sunday preceding the 1968 Democratic Convention in Chicago and the flights were
quite crowded. It took several flights
before we made it.
We all know what occurred in Chicago
during the Democratic Convention of 1968.
My father worked for the City of Chicago and he took me to the
Convention at the International Amphitheatre. It was the only presidential convention I ever
attended. Mayor Daley wanted supporters
to cheer him. I also remember getting on
the convention floor. I witnessed Hubert
Humphrey's acceptance speech as the Democratic nominee. Most importantly, afterwards, my dad took me
to The Saddle and Sirloin Room of The Stock Yard Inn where I had filet mignon
for the first time in my life. I would
say it was the best I ever had.
For those "new" to Chicago since
1970, The Stock Yard Inn was a Tudor style hotel at 42nd and
Halsted, next to the International Amphitheatre and the Union Stock Yards. Cattlemen would train in from the West with
their herds and stay at the Inn, negotiating business. Many conventioneers stayed there as well. The restaurant was also once famous for
allowing you to pick your steak and, to be sure you were served the one you
picked, you first branded your initials on it.
While the stock yards closed in 1971, the restaurant lasted a few more
years until the Amphitheatre ceased holding significant events.
Many historians mark the 1968 Democratic
Convention as a turning point in American history. The civil disobedience over the Vietnam war
was to become common place until we finally withdrew in 1972.
As to me, I went back to college and
started to worry more about getting into law school, how to deal with the draft
and, last, but not least, my then girlfriend and now wife of 40 years. I certainly do not recall ever saying my
hitchhiking days were over, but the Boston 1968 trip was to be my last cross-country
trek.
Before relating my happiest hitchhiking
experience, I should next briefly mention the current state of
hitchhiking. I have no empirical
evidence, but I rarely see a hitchhiker.
With nothing to back up her contention, Ginger Strand blames the decline
of hitchhiking on an FBI conspiracy with local law enforcement to prevent civil
rights activists from getting to marches in the 1960s and 1970s. I can only speculate as to the causes, but I
believe it is far harder for a hitchhiker to get a ride today. I do not think safety is the key. I think it is technology. Back in the 1960s, you essentially had AM
radio which was hard to pick up on the highway.
Today, we have CDs, audiobooks and hands-free cell phones. It is easier for the driver to stay awake, be
less lonely and, in fact, not want his world intruded. Interestingly, Ginger Strand, in her opinion
piece Hitchhiking's Time Has Come Again,
points out that technology makes hitchhiking safer today as both driver and
hitchhiker can forward photos of each other.
This might make it safer, but not more likely to get a ride.
Finally, I would now like to end with the ultimate
fantasy of a hitchhiker and how I experienced it.
The ultimate fantasy of most male
hitchhikers is to get a ride from a beautiful woman and, you know the
rest. Indeed, there was a famous rock
song by the group "Heart" that encapsulates this concept. Well, in a better way, I lived it. I earlier mentioned how I hitchhiked back
from my apartment to my now wife's sorority late at night and then again in the
blizzard of 1979. Well, we had one
earlier episode.
In the spring of 1967, my wife, Janice,
was a commuter at Northwestern University and I was a boarder. We knew each other from grammar school and
had somewhat reconnected during the summer before school started. As was my daily pattern, I was hitchhiking
along Sheridan Road from north campus to south campus to my board job at a
sorority. After a period of waiting, a
car stopped and I could tell an extremely attractive girl was picking me
up. I could tell she was attractive, but
in the dark, could not recognize it was Janice Buren. She, of course, recognized me in
advance. In the short ride, we had a
great time talking about our brief college experiences and it led to our dating
in Sophomore year. That was 45 years ago
and we just celebrated our 40th wedding anniversary.
To paraphrase the fictional character,
Chico Escuela, from the early years of Saturday
Night Live, "hitchhiking has been berry, berry good to me."