Boxcar Bertha - Spent Most My Life On The Rails

 Boxcar Bertha's latest is an easy listening ballad, and while she usually records just herself and her guitar, this recording has a gentle accompaniment as well as another voice joining her in the chorus sections. This other voice is an old acquaintance of Bertha's that is visiting her, a fellow rail traveler that's still on the rails. Here's some comments from Bertha herself:

Got an old friend visiting, and she volunteered to join me in the recording of my new song. We used to sing a lot when we'd meet up on the road once in a while, and we always blended together well. She's a natural musician, got a sweet voice, doesn't play any instruments besides her voice. She's getting long in the tooth herself and I'm trying to convince her to hang up the bindle and retire before she gets hurt or worse. Rail riding isn't for old timers, way too dangerous. Gotta still be agile enough to do some jumpin' and movin'. Be good if she retired to this apartment complex I'm in. Be good to have one of the old crowd around. But she's really dyed in the wool about it. Don't think she'll do it. 

Now as for sitting on top of a covered gondola, that's a risky behavior. Gotta do it right. I only rode the freights going through mountains and such, anywhere the train doesn't go like crazy, like the mountains and any sections of track that have speed limits because the tracks are crummy.  You don't want to plop your ass down on top of a car that's gonna get up to 60 mph or faster. Way too dangerous. And it's best to do it on a cooler day, can get plenty hot on top of metal cars. And I always found a piece of wood like an old board to put between my ass and the car. But I'm telling you, get on top of a long string of cars on a nice day with the wind in your face, nothing like it! 

Bertha's singing partner preferred if her name wasn't mentioned, and we have honored that request. Rail riders are notorious about maintaining their anonymity. What they do is illegal, and they can get hit with some heavy penalties and jail time if caught.

My younger days I used to like
Get on top a covered gondola
Hitch my leg through a ladder step
Wasn't much that I were fonder

On a beautiful day with sun
The train always made a breeze
My mind would drift and play its games
I could ride as much as I pleased

Spent most my time on the rails
All by myself and alone
But it was good, was free and all
All my anxieties had flown

It's funny, being a rail rider
Made me feel secure, no worry
Knew what I needed to get by
Never to be in a hurry

I've talked to people that have said
Why in the world do you do it?
Tried to explain, seldom got through
Just said not all made to do it

Spent most my time on the rails
All by myself and alone
But it was good, was free and all
All my anxieties had flown

Few times I'd get me a job
To build up my funds when near broke
But after a while, my skin would crawl
Felt like I was going to choke

So I'd get my gear all ready
Tell my boss I'm on my way
Always left on the best of terms
Never know, might be back someday

Spent most my time on the rails
All by myself and alone
But it was good, was free and all
All my anxieties had flown

Never thought I'd see the day
I'd end up livin' this way
In a small place in a small town
But it's here I'm gonna stay

Too old to ride the rails no more
One of the few that lived this long
Many got sick, or otherwise died
I'm lucky, I was healthy and strong

I've got enough to get by
All I ever really wanted
Freedom's not what it used to be
That doesn't make me feel daunted

Spent most my life on the rails
All by myself and got along
But I'm here now, still by myself
My mem'ries help sing my last song...
 

Boxcar Bertha - Ballad Of The Broken Guitar

The latest from Boxcar Bertha, a woman that rode the rails for 30 years seeing the country as what was once called a hobo but is now labeled a freight hopper, is Ballad Of The Broken Guitar.  This is an account that evidently happened to her while on the rails because she sings the story in the first person. It is a tale that lead to confrontation, assault, and death. That the song hit very close to home was evident at the recording session, as Bertha had to take some time between takes to collect herself. A few days after we got the song on file, we called her and made sure she wanted to release it, as there is a possibility that she incriminated herself in a death. But she assured us that was not the case, and that she wanted to go ahead with the release. She emailed us the following:

I thought long and hard about recording this song, but it was something I needed to do. What happened has haunted me these past years, and it was time to deal with it. It happened early on, about six months after I went on the road. I was still learning my way, met some good folks and some not so good. The man that confronted and ultimately assaulted me was someone I had never met before. People told me after fact that he never really was 'right' in the head, and he was getting worse and worse from drug use. He had a history of assaulting and abusing women and I was determined to not be one of his victims. 

I didn't go into it in detail in the song, but his intention early in the morning was to rape me as well as smash my guitar. Once I got him off me and hit him with my guitar, I got the upper hand. I hit him with the body of the guitar, so it pretty much just broke apart without causing much damage outside of stunning him. But I hit him once with the neck of the guitar, a solid piece of wood with a steel rod called a truss rod that helps keep it stable and for fine tuning.  Yes, that's what I used on him, hit him just right with it over and over, a few time between the eyes, knocked him cold and he quit breathing. Hard to believe a guitar neck can kill someone, but it's the truth. I've never been in such a rage before then or since. Kind of zoned out, don't remember much about it until it was over.

I remember the others there told me to high tail it, they'd take care of burying him. I was determined to contact authorities, but I was advised to not do that. It would cause more trouble than it was worth. The man had no relation, at least none that cared about him. So I skeedaddled and lived with the thought of being a murderer.

Our legal advisors told us it was a story with no available witnesses (imagine trying to find a witness among a group of freight hoppers 30 years ago, many of them most likely dead) and no corpse and no possibility of finding any remains. Who knows where he was buried. So now Bertha's conscience is a little cleaner. She's been told it was all done in self defense, as who knows what would have been her fate otherwise. She could have been the one ended up in a hobo's grave. We have suggested to her to see a therapist, but that will be up to her. It is a powerful, very dark song.

 You choose life as a freight hopper
There’s things you learn really quick
Travel light, and learn how to fight
Even if you need a big stick

Carried a small bindle with me
Had most things I needed to be
Always felt home, no matter how far
As long as I had my guitar

Used to play ev’ry night ‘fore bed
By myself, but not always
Most like a song, and sing along
But this one night a man turned crazed

“Quit thumpin’ that goddam thing!
We all wanna crawl into bed!
Git it quick through, I’ll bust it in two!
Right over yer goddamed head!”

Folks came to my defense right then
But I quit playin’ you all see
He's got the right, call it a night
He don’t want to listen to me.

I took my bedroll farther down
But I had a real fitful sleep
Tossin' and turn, stomach to churn
Not very restful nor deep

It was a good thing ended up
I saw a dark shadow slinkin'
Laid really still, ready to quell
Guitar hater I was thinkin'!

Under the stars, it was him!
Tried to get my guitar near me
I had the hunch, beat him to the punch,
Grabbed it as he lurched over me

So here's the thing, my dear friends
Wasn't much I could do instead
I wrestled the thing from his hands...
AND SMASHED IT OVER HIS HEAD!

He stepped back more surprised than hurt
He come back to his wits real fast
That's when I used the guitar neck...
Kept beating on him 'til he passed...

Was sad for a long time after
Was really unhappy, a wreck
I left the rest to bury him…
But I kept that guitar neck!

Carried a small bindle with me
Had most things I needed to be
Always felt home, no matter how far
As long as I had my... guitar...

Boxcar Bertha - No City Lights

 Boxcar Bertha spent many years wandering the country, riding the rails when she could, and just plain walking when she had to. She would get a job once in a while to earn some money, and soon as she had a small nest egg, she took off again.  She really loved the life of a hobo, technically a hobo will work when they have to while a bum won't. She had many friends along the way. Some of them gone now, but some visit her at her small apartment now that she retired from the life. Her comments:

Riding the rails was a good life for me, sure isn't for everyone. But I enjoyed the freedom, liked seeing a lot of this big beautiful country with my guitar over my shoulder.  But it's a rough life. After about 30 years, my body is just too worn out to do it anymore. I worked enough to have some money in the bank, and worked enough to get Social Security and Medicare, so I'm better off than a lot of rail riders. Too many of them don't last, die from disease, accident or injury. I'm lucky to have made it this long. One of the things I miss the most is sleeping outside under the stars. I did that a lot, always picked my spot carefully, and when available I'd cut some thin pine branches to lay on the ground under my blankets. The scent of the pine combining with the fresh air, punctuated by all the sounds of night, made for the best sleeps I've ever had. Luckily, the apartment complex I live in has a very nice area, a mini forest that's almost as good as being out in the wild. I got permission from the landlord and told my neighbors about me sleeping outside in the mini forest sometimes. No doubt some of them think I'm not wrapped too tight, especially when I'm out there snoozing away on a cold night. But it helps me to stay grounded, literally, physically, and emotionally.

Her simple guitar accompaniment fits the gentle song, her tribute to sleeping under the stars. 

Ever slept with stars overhead 

In a night as black as can be 

A bed made out of pine boughs 

That conform to your body 

 

No city lights that will invade 

Slumber that is deep and free 

With the scents and sounds of the night 

That refresh your sanity 

 

 All by yourself, but really not 

There's plenty to keep company 

It's a feeling that most forgot 

The earth and all its sympathy 

 

 Don't have to go far aback 

Don't need to take much along 

What you can fit in your pack 

And escape the teeming throng 

 

You'll find a place that's just right 

A spot where you feel you belong 

Your eyes get used to little light 

So just stretch out and sing your song 

 

Mother Earth will cradle you 

Look out at darkness so deep 

Before you know, you'll be all through 

And drift off to a peaceful sleep 

 

 Do your best to learn the lessons 

Of earth and its connections 

To your life, your body, and soul 

It is the mother earth's intention 

To offer you direction To help you be happy...and whole

Boxcar Bertha - Light Fingered Moses

 The third recording from the storyteller Boxcar Bertha. After thirty years riding the rails, she's no doubt has a lot of stories to tell, and when she wants to tell them in song, we'll record them! She now lives in a small efficiency apartment, and is trying to get used to it. We talked to her recently:

I'm lucky to be able to get off the road. Ridin' the rails isn't for old folks, and it's gettin' harder and harder to do. I did work off an on, one time at a two year stretch. Got pretty good pay, socked most of it away for my old age. Got a nice apartment, but I'm feeling hemmed in .When you're used to  sleeping wherever you can lay your head, usually under the stars, having a comfortable bed should be a comfort. But there's most night I make a bedroll and go sleep outside. Put some of the other tenants in a dither when I started doing that. They thought I'd died out in the front yard! But they don't bother me any more. But I'm slowly gettin' used to a bed, spoiled, actually. Lots easier to get some rest for my old weary bones on a nice mattress than the hard ground!

The word has gotten out to many of her hobo friends, as there's a constant stream of them coming to her apartment, most looking for a handout. She told us she had to finally cut off giving them anything, as she went through too much money. But there are some true friends that just want to visit. 

Many years ago, there was a young man 

He had a talent he used to survive 

A Bo on the rails since he was full growed 

He had the fastest hands, ever alive 

 

Light fingered Moses was his hobo name 

His touch was so soft, his hands so nimble 

He lived by takin’ things out of folk’s pockets 

He wore a tattered hat, was his symbol 

 

 Moses was a veteran, of the rails 

He sure didn’t look it, with his young face 

He kept a small book of where he had been 

Many an obscure, and familiar place 

 

Light fingered Moses was his hobo name 

His touch was so soft, his hands so nimble 

He lived by takin’ things out of folk’s pockets 

He wore a tattered hat, was his symbol 

 

 He’s go in a store, or gas station 

Looked innocent casin’ out the store 

He’d swipe stuff out of pockets, off the shelves 

Cigarettes and candy, and so much more 

 

 Light fingered Moses was his hobo name 

His touch was so soft, his hands so nimble 

He lived by takin’ things out of folk’s pockets 

He wore a tattered hat, was his symbol

 

 Don’t know how he did it, but he sure could

 Beat the alarm systems in the big stores 

He’d look all around, and find some cool stuff 

He’d stuff his pockets, and go out the doors 

 

Light fingered Moses, no one ever caught 

Didn’t matter if from a pocket or shelf 

Always had something, in his coat to share 

Thought about others just not ‘bout himself 

 

He was a thief, but not from a Bo 

Had some thought about things, and he took a stand

 Hobos to him were like a family 

He took things solely, only from the man! 

 

 Light fingered Moses, always was great fun 

Could sing like a country western star 

And he could really dance, just like a pro 

Even could play, a little of guitar 

 

Then on one sunny day, Sheriff came lookin’ 

Moses hid and thought he was a goner 

Rest of us in camp, wondered what it was 

Sheriff said it was a lawyer’s letter 

 

Ended up that Moses didn’t know it 

But he had rich relative that died 

Named him in the unknown relatives will 

Sure wasn’t no reason to run and hide! 

 

Ended up ol’ Moses got some money 

And he told me and all the other men 

He’d see us soon, and pass some money out 

But never saw his ragged ass again! Haa Haa!!

 

Boxcar Bertha - Rusty Dan

Boxcar Bertha traveled the rails for 30 years, a modern day hobo, she worked odd jobs off and on when she needed money. Otherwise, she saw the country by bumming rides on freight trains. An adventurous life that was fraught with danger as much a discovery. Bertha herself has the scars and a bad leg to prove it. She's one of  the lucky ones that has lived to tell her tale. She recently retired, and before people start slinging mud at her, she worked enough to get Social Security and Medicare. Her longest job was a little over a year as an inventory clerk in a large warehouse. Bertha's a smart, shrewd lady, and moved up the ranks very quickly in that company. Within two months she was promoted to Chief Warehouse Supervisor, a very well paying job she says. She stayed for another year, socked away most of the money she made in her bank account. She finally couldn't handle her wanderlust any more, quit and went back on the rails. She had a standing offer to come back any time, but she finished out here rail career without having to work again.

The man she calls Rusty Dan must have been a very good friend. She sings this sad song about their last trip together, and the accident that took his life. She won't talk any more about him then what's in this song. We get the feeling that her loss of him is a wound that will never completely heal.

Knew a man that been ridin' the rails 

Knew Rusty Dan like he was kin 

We hopped a gondola late one day 

Sure didn't know the trouble we'd be in 

 

We had some grub in our bindels  (A bundle that had essentials)

So we cooked up a mulligan  (A stew made from available ingredients)

I had two cans of stewed tomatoes 

He had some beans and some bacon 

 

Rusty Dan was a good man I could trust 

Never tried anything to offend 

But fate caught up to him one gray night 

And it caused his sad early end 

 

Gondola had a load of steel beams 

That didn't take up all of the space 

Load must've been 'bout 50 foot long 

So we hunkered down in the end space 

 

We talked as the mulligan cooked up

 He told me things that happened to him 

He was a few years older than me 

But he was handsome, rugged and slim

 

 Rusty Dan was a good man I could trust 

Never tried anything to offend 

But fate caught up to him one gray night

And it caused his sad early end 

 

The mulligan smell was very nice 

The fire we built kept us real warm

 I felt so safe around Rusty Dan 

Didn't think I would come to no harm 

 

It started getting dark and chilly 

We ate up all we could of the stew 

We kept on talkin', laughin' as we ate 

Then I got out some tea we could brew

 

 Rusty Dan was a good man I could trust 

Never tried anything to offend 

But fate caught up to him one gray night 

And it caused his sad early end 

 

We sipped the warm tea, enjoyed the sky 

Full of many a glistenin' star 

We were makin' plans of what we would do

 And layin' against the side of the car 

 

The load of steel in the gondola 

Creaked and moaned with every big bump 

Rusty Dan got up top to look it over 

When the train wheels screeched, Rusty jumped 

 

He leaped into the end of the car 

Screechin' of the wheels, heard a big pop 

The train was suddenly slowing down 

I jumped up, pulled myself to the top 

 

The wood holdin' layers of the steel 

Began to break and steel started to shake 

Rusty Dan was leanin' in the corner

Holdin' his foot, might've been a break 

 

 I swung m'self over the end of the car 

On the coupler I stood as it went down

 I held on for dear life as the train slowed 

We had come to the start of a town 

 

I saw it happen, the load had shifted 

Folded in the middle like a book

 Slid forward, hit the end of the car 

My God...I was so afraid to look! 

 

 Rusty Dan couldn't climb over the top

 And the steel that slid forward hit him 

He lay in a heap...skewered...dead 

The man that was so rugged....handsome...and slim

 

Boxcar Bertha - My Guitar, My Big Tits, And Me

 We here at Big And Tall Records welcome a new artist found by an associate on the road. Her name? Boxcar Bertha, an obvious takeoff on the well known country/western hobo singer Boxcar Willie.  Yes, she was a woman that rode the rails for thirty years. There's not many hoboes, (or rail riders as some prefer to be called) left. At one time, there were many who took to riding the rails not for the thrill of it all, but to get to where they could possibly find work.  Historians have written that the phenomenon started after the Civil War, when men took to the road to find work, or other reasons. Some indeed wanted adventure, some were used to going places far from their home during the war. and after any major conflict, some veterans have a difficult time readjusting to civilian life. 

There are many more barricades for rail riders these days, with electronic surveillance being a great deterrent. It is and always has been illegal, which no doubt attracted some anti-authoritarian types. But it has also been a quite dangerous activity. Many injuries caused by accidents as well as railroad security beatings in the older days, with death always being a possibility. 

Boxcar Bertha took to the rails from college where she was studying to be a horticulturist, with minors in Spanish, French, and German. She studied music for a while in her youth, and started with the piano. Her teacher recognized her talent, and had it in mind to make her into a concert pianist, but she was more attracted to folk music and the guitar. She was expected to keep up her musical studies in college, but abruptly changed to botany and languages, to her piano teacher's disappointment. About three quarters of the way through college, she again abruptly changed her mind, quite school, and took to the rails! 

She recently came to the conclusion that her rail days are about over. She's only in her early 60's, but thirty years of that life has worn her down, arthritis mainly in her knees and hips. Her fingers have a milder case of it so she can still play the guitar. By the title of her song, she knows how to draw attention to herself, and she's begun busking on street corners and making enough money from that so she can afford a small efficiency apartment. so we hope she can make some money with her recordings as well. No doubt she's got a lot of tales to tell after thirty years of bumming the rails! 

Ever since I was a real little girl 

Was afflicted with the wanderlust 

So when I finished school, I hopped a train 

My Momma she sure threw a big fuss! 

 

She said ‘Hobo life ain’t for little girls 

All kinds of bad things bad men out there

 You can’t make a livin’ ridin’ the rails 

How in the world are you gonna fare? 

 

I’ve seen a lot of this big country 

Wanted to keep myself untamed and free 

Never had much use for most possessions 

Just had my guitar, my big tits, and me! 

 

Gave Momma a kiss, told her not to fret 

I know there’s other things you may wish 

Gotta get this wanderlust out of me

 Or I’ll think there’s too much I’d have missed 

 

 Told her it was just for a few short years 

Then I’d be back and I’d settle down 

I found out I like the nomad life

 I wear the hobo life like it’s a crown 

 

 I’ve seen a lot of this big country 

Wanted to keep myself untamed and free 

Never had much use for most possessions 

Just had my guitar, my big tits, and me! 

 

 All that was over thirty years ago 

My Momma came back each year to see 

Never did shake the ol’ wanderlust 

But ridin’ rails ain’t what it used to be 

 

Always had to be a little careful 

Specially because of being a woman 

Learned real fast to take care of myself 

And how to equalize with any man!

 

 I’ve seen a lot of this big country 

Wanted to keep myself untamed and free 

Never had much use for most possessions 

Just had my guitar, my big tits, and me! 

 

 Momma passed away a few years back 

Haven’t been back to where I was born 

Nothin’ left for me back in my hometown 

But it doesn’t make me forlorn 

 

My home is wherever I bed for the night 

Have a bite, and strum my ol’ guitar 

Now that I’m older, find I’m cripplin’ up 

Don’t go nearly so long or so far 

 

I’ve seen a lot of this big country 

Wanted to keep myself untamed and free 

Never had much use for most possessions 

Just had my guitar, my big tits, and me! 

 

Earn some money playin’ my git fiddle 

Sometimes gotta walk with a crutch 

Took many spills off the end of a train 

But thank God I get by with out much! 

 

So the time is comin’, and it’s real soon 

When I can’t go and roam any more 

Believe it or not, I got a nest egg 

I can pay little bit for room and board 

 

 I’ve seen a lot of this big country 

Got memories to help carry me! 

Sit and chew the fat, sing a song, yes sir, 

My ol’ guitar, my big tits, and me!