Britt, IA

People with names like Texas Madman, Minneapolis Jewel, and Red Bird Express have been coming to Britt, Iowa, for more than 100 years. It’s one place where these and other hoboes feel truly at home.

It began back in 1900 when town leaders tried to attract a convention and a group of migratory workers, known as Tourist Union No. 63, were the only takers. Hoboes, who historically rode (and still occasionally ride) the rails looking for work, have been coming to Britt (pop. 2,180) ever since.

“We’re just used to it,” says resident Lillian Charbonneaux, who has lived in the north-central Iowa town for more than 50 years.

Charbonneaux meets daily with friends for coffee at Mary Jo’s Hobo House restaurant, a popular hangout for local residents and hoboes. She’s also a regular at the women’s tea hosted by female hoboes during the National Hobo Convention. At this tea, the cups are paper and the tea iced. Attire ranges from veiled hats and white gloves to overalls.

During the convention, held each year the second weekend in August, as many as 100 hoboes camp beside the railroad tracks in an area known as Hobo Jungle Park. The event, scheduled Aug. 9-11, opens with the lighting of a ceremonial fire and a hobo tribute to the four winds. Then, the reigning hobo king and queen step forward to greet attendees and townspeople, and the convention is officially under way.

Townspeople bring sweet corn and other garden vegetables, which the hoboes cook into a meal, and hoboes show their gratitude by filling the weekend with entertainment. They sing, dance, tell stories, and perform skits, usually with themes about riding the rails and living the hobo lifestyle.

Attendees also donate items such as hand-carved walking sticks, hats, and paintings to sell at auction to raise money for the Hobo Foundation. The foundation maintains Hobo Jungle Park, a corner of Evergreen Cemetery, where hoboes such as Hardrock Kid and Mt. Dew are buried, and the National Hobo Museum, which is housed in the former Chief Theater.

The museum, bought with money willed by an anonymous donor (later identified as Slow Motion Shorty), contains donated items such as hobo crafts and clothing, memorabilia, and photographs from conventions past. Visitors come from as far away as Europe, and many buy souvenirs so they can prove to friends that such a place exists, says curator Linda Hughes.

In the beginning, some people scoffed at the convention—until it grew into a communitywide celebration in the 1940s with a carnival, food stands, a parade, a flea market, and hobo events that have grabbed worldwide attention in recent years. Now, as many as 20,000 people visit Britt during the convention, and neighboring communities can’t help but admire the event’s success.

“Thousands of small towns would give anything to have a celebration like ours,” says Mayor Jim Nelson, who grew up with hobo Beef Steak Charlie as a friend.

Nelson remembers taking garden vegetables to the hoboes by the tracks as a kid, and he appreciates the distinct identity hoboes give Britt. Wherever Nelson travels, people ask about Britt’s hoboes.

Being a hobo isn’t as easy as it seems, says Minneapolis Jewel, 52, who started riding the rails 21 years ago. “The first time I headed off for the convention, I ended up in Wisconsin instead,” she recalls.

But the next year she found her way to Britt, where she is treated like royalty. She’s been crowned hobo queen three times—in 1986, 1991, and 1997.

Each year, townspeople join the hoboes in electing a king and queen—one highlight of the long-standing relationship between Britt and its hobo visitors.

Alice M. Vollmar is a freelance writer in Minneapolis.

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