Young Transients

During the complacent 1920's, U. S. citizens read with detached horror of the hordes of savage children, orphaned by revolution and famine, who roved Russia in vice-ridden, thieving bands. Now almost completely socialized are the Soviet's waifs. And now over the U. S. wanders a scattered horde of Depression-driven youngsters.

Last week, brought up short against this increasingly acute problem, the U. S. Senate prepared to act. Into the $500,000,000 bill for direct relief to States, reported out by the Manufactures Committee, was tucked a $15,000,000 item for "transients"--the voteless, ever-shifting tide of humanity which States are reluctant to aid.

Already alarmed at the reported size of the country's floating population, the Senators got a fresh shock when Columbia University's Sociologist Nels Anderson told them that many of the nomads are girls. On the basis of a threeday, four-city survey made three weeks ago he estimates a transient U. S. population of some 165,000 boys and 100,000 girls under 21.

Chief Grace Abbott of the U. S. Children's Bureau believes 80% of the nation's homeless are minors. Newton Diehl Baker's Welfare & Relief Mobilization last autumn reported 200,000 wandering youths.

Though many a motorist fears to help them hitchhike, no half-wild bandits like Russia's besprizorni are the footloose U. S. youngsters. Most of them have had grammar or high-school education. Some are adventurous runaways. Most have been squeezed out by family want. They despise professional hoboes. Pride keeps many away from welfare houses. A Michigan boy finished barber college after his parents died in 1929, found Michigan had loo many barbers already, took to the road. Too proud to beg, he made $3 carry him 2,000 mi. and eleven days. He explained: "I ate a lot of soup."

Leaving his concrete bed on the floor of a Pennsylvania jail, a young Californian talked of going home to join his father in an impoverished cleaning business. Said he: "I don't want a lot of money. I'd just like to be a well-to-do, decent business man."

From shuttling between a stepfather and grandmother in Ohio, another youngster took to shuttling by freight between Florida, California, New York. Unbeaten, he voiced a common philosophy: "I'll not need help when times get better. I'll get a. job. I'll get out of all this. If I go regular bum I'm done for."

Brigadier General Pelham D. Glassford, onetime Washington police superintendent, is afraid of what months of jobless shifting about may do to boys' morale. Last week he appeared before the Manufactures Committee to urge his plan for establishing small camps where boys may help support themselves by farming and other work, receive vocational training. He wants each camp limited to 750, with semimilitary discipline imposed by self-chosen officers. Failing some such measures, General Glassford foresees "a generation of hoboes."

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.