Date: Wed, 23 Aug 2006 22:33:16 -0400 From: carl_mason@comcast.net Subject: HOBO TEEN - 12 HOBO TEEN - 12 Copyright 2006 by Carl Mason All rights reserved. Other than downloading one copy for strictly personal enjoyment, no part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, except for reviews, without the written permission of the author. However based on real events and places, "Hobo Teen" is strictly fictional. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. As in real life, however, the sexual themes unfold gradually. Comments on the story are appreciated and may be addressed to the author at carl_mason@comcast.net This story contains descriptions of sexual contact between males, both adults and teenagers. As such, it is homoerotic fiction designed for the personal enjoyment of legal, hopefully mature, adults. If you are not of legal age to read such material, if those in power and/or those whom you trust treat it as illegal, or if it would create unresolvable moral dilemmas in your life, please leave. Finally, remember that maturity generally demands safe sex. This story is highly indebted for its inspiration and many of its details to the book Riding the Rails; Teenagers on the Move During the Great Depression by Errol Lincoln Uys. New York: Routledge, 2003, and the award-winning documentary film by Michael Uys and Lexy Lovell, Riding the Rails, produced by WGBH Educational Foundation, Boston, 2005. CHAPTER 12 (Revisiting Chapter 11) Given all this - all that had transpired since Christmas Day when Ward discovered a boy freezing to death on a bench in Santa Fe - it may seem strange to many that he went to his mentor only weeks before his seventeenth birthday. The time had come, he maintained, to continue his search for his father. The former movie star was heartsick. As everyone who knew them in Santa Fe realized, they had come to love each other dearly. Ward, in particular, saw Cy as his son. When the lad told Ward frankly that he loved him, but had to close an open door in his life, the man swallowed his fears and supported the boy's quest. Cy left Santa Fe with round-trip tickets to San Diego on a crack passenger train, his mentor's blessing, and enough cash to ensure that the trip would not expose him to the horrors of his previous life. (Concluding Our Story - The "Chief") Cy smirked as he boarded the Santa Fe "Chief," the top service on the Atchison, Topeka, and Santa Fe's Chicago to Los Angeles run. This was surely a far cry from "riding the blinds" of a speeding passenger train, sandblasted by crushed stone, the membranes of one's lungs cut by hot cinders. (Within two years, this streamliner's steam locomotives would be supplanted by the great diesels and lightweight steel cars of the Santa Fe "Super Chiefs," but the "Chief" was still a magnificent train.) Air conditioning was the rule; sleeping accommodations were available for every wallet; showers could be had; a pleasantly decorated dining car with fine table linens, gleaming silver, and attentive service served delicious food. Oh, yes, the Gloucester teen was disappointed that Santa Fe had taken its main line into Los Angeles rather than San Diego as it had once planned, but Southern Pacific service reached the City of St. James from L.A. in about 4.5 hours. It was a trip that lasted from early morning to late at night, but Cy enjoyed it, every minute of it! (Honoring a Dream) Staying the night in a YMCA, the teen consulted Navy services the next morning that had been recommended by old salts both in Gloucester and the hobo jungles. The youth's Navy father was easily located and, much to Cy's delight, had drawn a shore tour in San Diego after three years of sea duty. Increasingly since 1915, San Diego had become a "Navy town" where civilian commercial and military interests worked hand in glove and Naval personnel were warmly welcomed and supported. In 1935, jobs were actually available at the Marine Station, the Naval Training Center, the Naval Air Station, and a host of smaller military facilities. The Great Depression slowed growth until World War II loomed on the horizon, but it surely didn't halt it. On June 4, 1935, his father's address in hand, Cy immediately set out towards his home without even phoning first. (Sixteen year-olds, even those almost seventeen, are capable of such things!) He did find Roger's apartment in a rather ramshackle building in the city. Knocking, he was welcomed by his roommate - another sailor whom Cy found to be scruffy and uncomfortably effeminate. Nevertheless, Lee's greeting was cordial, if surprised, and he was quickly offered a beer, a comfortable chair, and an invitation to wait until Roger returned home from work. Perhaps a little to his surprise - and certainly to his relief - his dad's greeting was warm and excited. He would stay at the apartment...of course. True, there was only one bedroom, but the couch wasn't all that uncomfortable. Meals were always potluck around there, but they managed to get by, and so would he. The bottom line was that he was family - and that was the end of the matter. After Roger had changed into civies, he grabbed two more beers and took Cy out into the back yard to relax in the sun and talk. A smiling Lee said that he'd throw together a simple supper. His dad was obviously curious as to how a teenager had arrived in San Diego via streamliners in the middle of the Depression, but he wasn't about to ask any questions. Rather, he asked after Cy's mother and his sister and inquired as to what effect the Depression had had on the family. At one point, after taking a long pull on his beer, he closed his eyes tightly, shook his head, and exclaimed, "I just couldn't live like that, Cy; I just couldn't - on-again, off-again work on a fishing trawler, no way up, a boring life in a town where everybody knew everything about everybody else, mounting money pressures. As wrong as it was to leave the three of you, it was a matter of survival for me. And there was more...I guess I'm just not a 'family man'." Out of the corner of his eye - for he WAS looking - he saw a quick flash of emotional understanding on his son's face, and he turned his attention to Cy himself. "You, you long drink of water, you've grown tall, you've got muscles on top of muscles, and you've got looks that would cause a 'good girl' to miss her period! What in hell are you doing now, and what do you want to do with your life?" Cy gave him a quick rundown of his year and a half on the road - an "all the news that's fit to print" sort of thing. Roger was honestly impressed. "Good for you, Cy-boy, good for you! You've got the old 'get up and go', and I'm proud of you." "As far at the future goes, I'm not sure," the teen continued. "I didn't think so before, but I'm finding out that the world is filled with many more interesting things than I ever dreamed. Maybe I'll have to go back to school... I guess that I've spent more time learning what I DON'T want to do than I have figuring out what I DO want to do." "Wouldn't worry about that," his dad allowed. "It will come in its own good time - if you're open to your feelings. And what about girls? Are they lined up for you as yet?" "Hell, no, dad! I can't begin to figure them out!" With a perfectly straight face, he added, "I did come across a couple of interesting ones where I stopped recently. You gonna marry again, dad?" the boy inquired, a slightly impish look in his eyes. "Maybe, but I doubt it," Roger allowed as he continued to speak man-to-man. "As I said, I'm not really a 'family man'. If she's interesting, she's welcome in my bed." "And if HE'S interesting?" Cy needled him. "He's welcome in my bed," Roger completed the thought, paused, guffawed, grabbed the two empties, and headed back into the house to get a fresh supply. Returning to that which was turning into a pretty worthwhile father-and-son conversation, Roger sat back and philosophized. "Life is all about love, son. It's what makes all the crap bearable. Men are like wolves." (Cy smirked snidely.) "They're social animals. You can live alone like a hermit, but the world is full of dangers and I don't recommend it if you have any choice. You gotta learn how to love and how to receive love. That's where it's at; doesn't matter much where it comes from." Chugalugging the remaining beer in the bottle, Roger slammed the empty down on the table, saying, "There's plenty to do round here for as long as you want to stay. Next week, you've got a birthday - the 17th if I haven't lost count. We'll have fun! Last Tuesday, the World's Fair of 1935, the California Pacific International Exposition, opened at Balboa Park. Would you believe that 60,000 people showed up - and this is the Depression! On June 11th, 58,000 officers and men of the US Navy are going to be in town...plus the largest concentration of ships in years. They've got me working on that project! And, of course, there's always the world-famous San Diego Zoo! Reaching out, he put his hand around Cy's ear, just like he did when the big teen was a little guy. "I'm glad you're here, you palooka! You do understand that I'm working out at the Naval Air Station, but when I can't show you around, believe that one of my buddies will!" Roger was as good as his word. He was included in poker nights at both his dad's house and homes of other men. On the night of his birthday, his dad, Lee, and two other buds piled him into a car and took off for the beach. Outside under a bright moon, they gorged themselves on fish and chips and drank cheap beer. Cy had a little too much, but everyone was having fun and his dad didn't say anything. He did come across a very cute waiter in the head, i.e., the lavatory. They fooled around a little in one of the stalls, but Cy was too potted to take it very far. Giggling, he zipped up, left the head, and rejoined the guys at the cash register. Two days later, one of Lee's friends took him over to Balboa Park (the city park) and gave him an introductory tour of the Exposition. The theme, he explained, was the history of man in the San Diego area, present progress, and a glimpse of the future. It was difficult not to be impressed by the imposing new buildings (many built in the increasingly popular "Spanish Colonial Revival" style), the fantastic gardens (desert, Spanish, and California), the food courts, and the midway where several of the most popular fun spots were located. Cy was especially interested in the Hollywood Picture Hall of Fame and hoped that he would be able to see more of it on another day. The very next day, he was invited to go to the famous San Diego Zoo with one of the men and his entire family. Cy thought it one of the best days of the entire trip. He also spent three additional days at the Fair, concentrating on buildings and activities that had caught his eye. Naturally, there was also the June day when the fleet came in. His dad was going to take him into the city to mix with the thousands of sailors having fun and to see the ships in the harbor. Unfortunately, at the very last minute he had to work and Lee took over. Lee also took him to one of the large dances sponsored by the city for the gobs, but he had walked so far that day that he didn't really get into it. Very little happened that was less than perfect - even though Cy sometimes had to touch bases with his father on the run. A couple of less than perfect incidents bear some mention. Both happened at poker nights. At the first, a tipsy young sailor really came on to Cy. He had his hands all over the Gloucester lad, and his breath said he had been drinking something far stronger than beer. When Cy stepped into the bathroom, the sailor followed - and wasn't about to take no for an answer. Fortunately, he was sloppy drunk, and Cy was able to push him onto the floor of the shower, turn on the cold water, and tell his host. The second incident also took place at a friend's house on a poker night, though it was more serious. This time, the host, a sailor who was neither particularly young nor particularly drunk, cornered him in the hall when he went to get some cigarettes out of his coat pocket. Wrestling Cy into an unused bedroom, he had removed the boy's jeans plus his shoes and socks before Cy could really react. As he tried to stretch the teen out on the bed on his stomach and tie his hands and feet to the frame, he lost control for just an instant. Cy was able to yell his bloody head off which brought Roger, the man's wife, and others into the room. There was a terrible row. Inasmuch as the local police were willing for the Shore Patrol to handle the matter, the man was rather quickly on his way to being cashiered out of the Navy - though he received no prison time for attempted rape. That was hard to bring off in a Navy town! After increasingly suggestive comments and a fair amount of groping, Cy decided that it was time to speak with someone. If he had learned anything from the old doctor at the hospital near Albany, it's that you can't simply accept such behavior. If you don't want it, it's wrong, and it's not your fault! Inasmuch as his father was at work, he spoke at length with Lee, outlining all the incidents that had taken place. He suggested that the word should get around that it wasn't what he wanted, he was a teenager, and people should back off. Lee listened carefully. When Cy was finished, he drummed his fingers on the table and asked, "After the incident with the waiter at your birthday dinner, are you sure that you haven't been sending out signals that you ARE interested?" His chest tight with anger, Cy spat out, "I hadn't realized that you were checking on me, Lee. Believe that if I had been interested in some sex, I surely wouldn't have been interested in being bullied, insulted, and raped!" Though his eyes narrowed and his lips pursed, Lee's face remained impassive as he responded, "Ok, Cy, the message you suggested will get out." He continued, "Now will you listen to a problem that I see developing?" "Yes," the teen replied tersely. One of the reasons your father has so busy these past few weeks is that he's been trying to get his records straightened up before requesting reenlistment. He'd really like to go back to sea for another three or four years. Then he would probably have at chance at getting shore duty again at Pearl or posting to a battleship like the Arizona or the Oklahoma. If you asked him not to do so, he might stay. He loves you; he feels he owes you. The truth remains, Cy, that he doesn't make a very good family man. Staying in Dago much longer might destroy the career of a good sailor. I hope you'll consider doing what's best for him." As much as Lee turned him off, Cy did believe that he cared for Roger and, in this case, that his evaluation was probably right on the money. When his father eventually brought up the subject, wondering if Cy might "stick around" and, perhaps, go back to school, he replied that he thought it would soon be time for him to move on. "No matter, dad," he continued, "we love each other and we'll always be father and son. Believe me, you have helped me this summer to focus on some of the things I really want. I'm grateful, but I think that we each have our own paths to follow and we need to be about it." When his father's tension drained and the son relaxed in his arms, he knew that he had done the right thing by both of them. (Catching Out) Late on the evening of Thursday, August 22, 1935, a taxi driver watched his young fare bound up the steps to Ward Taylor's historic old home in Santa Fe, New Mexico. After pounding on the door, he waited impatiently. Soon the heavy mission-style doors opened, revealing an older man, probably in his late 40s, outlined against the light. The two men joyfully embraced and, seemingly, had to force themselves to let go and move inside. The heavy wooden doors slowly closed. THE END AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks, friends, for sticking with me these past six weeks! I have thoroughly enjoyed conversing with many of you individually and wish you the very best. As you know, my stories are mainly found in the "Gay/Historical" category, often cross- listed in "Gay/Adult Youth". Beginning next week, I shall begin posting a story that is quite different. Even though the first story that I read on Nifty in 1996 was in the "Gay/Science Fiction or Fantasy" category, I have never written in that genre. "Young Jeremy Taylor" will, therefore, be a first. (It may or may not be cross-listed.) I hope that you enjoy it - and that you will stay in touch. Affectionately, Carl