Henry Stuart Baker at the Banbury Union Workhouse, Oxfordshire, 1912.

AMONG THE TRAMPS AT BANBURY.

———

THE BREAD TICKET AND THE INSURANCE CARD.

———

A NIGHT IN BANBURY WORKHOUSE CASUAL WARD.

———

By an Amateur Casual.

———

The limelight may be said to just be now thrown very distinctly upon the habitual tramp. The householder in the outskirts of the town has been sufficiently, if only superficially, acquainted with him for some years, but readers of the Banbury Guardian have had him brought conspicuously to their notice in the constantly recurring discussions about him at the meetings of the local Boards of Guardians, in reports of Poor Law Conferences, and in speeches and letters about the Reports the Poor Law Commission. To the social reformer he the hardest nut presented to be cracked, and the increasing interest taken in social problems has brought him more serious, if not more sympathetic, consideration than he has previously enjoyed, and which he would willingly do without, for his one desire to be left alone. Statistics appear from time to time in the columns of the Guardian showing the amount of vagrancy with which the Banbury Union is afflicted, and comparing it with others more happily situated.

Banbury being conveniently situated between Oxford and Birmingham, probably receives as unwelcome visitors many of the tramping fraternity, the "Weary Willies," to use their popular appellation, as any other town of its size in England. From Buckingham, Warwick, Woodstock. and other places they "pad the 'oof," men, women, and children, hopeless and footsore, ragged and verminous, to the town of the noted Cross. It may interest the readers of the Banbury Guardian if I, who have cultivated the acquaintance these of the road, and learnt, from personal experience, what there is to know of them, here set forth some account of them as I struck them at Banbury in the course my wanderings as an "amateur casual." and recount my experiences a tramp in the Banbury "spike," as your workhouse. in common with all others, is called.

First, may I set down few general observations of the tramps who visit Banbury workhouse and find shelter for the night in the casual ward at the expense of the ratepayers. I estimate that 70 per cent. are regular roadsters from two to forty years' standing; 20 per cent. are old soldiers, gradually drifting into the regular tramp class; 10 per cent. are genuine unemployed wayfarers actually seeking work. This is. of coarse, rough estimate, but it is sufficient to indicate the proportion of the "professional" to the genuine.

Another sub-division must, however, made, for we may divide the tramps found at such a workhouse as Banbury into five classes. First comes the "gagger," a wastrel of the first water, a man who, if he used his abilities rightly, might earn good position in the world. But warped are his ways. Semi-respectably attired, and wearing a celluloid collar, his modus operandi is to "pull up," that is accost, benevolent looking persons whom be meets, and with pitiful tale, plead for assistance. Then comes the griddler," an obnoxious being who seeks the back streets, and with raucous voice chants with all the melancholy possible such ditties as "Where is my wandering boy to-night?" or such hymns as "Abide with me." The next class is too well-known to Banbury housewives. If he can avoid "Johnny Gallagher," as he terms the policeman, appears their back doors, generally about meal times, and carrying a little tin can (his "drum"), requests food, tea. or hot water. Another frequent visitor to the Banbury "spike," or "grubber," as the casual ward is termed, is the burly navvy, in his big boots and earth-stained clothes. Though a good workman, he cannot "stick" a job for any length of time. The "call of the road" is ever in his ears. Lastly, have the genuine unemployed workman., who through sheer stress of circumstances is compelled to avail himself of the shelter of the casual ward. Unfortunately, I have found some of this class, footsore and hungry, discouraged at not obtaining work, drift into the great army of tramps. The descent is so easy, the ascent is so difficult, and. the old "Weary Willies" declare, "once a trump, always a tramp." Having thus delineated the various classes into which may divide the visitors to the Banbury casual ward, let me come to my own personal visit there.

It is a fair "drag" from Woodstock, but joining company with two other "roadsters," the time passed quickly as we discussed the ways of workhouse officials, good houses for obtaining food, and past adventures of the "Toby," they call the road. As we reached Banbury, one of my companions, a slim young fellow about of thirty years, who boasted that he had been in prison six times for begging, went off to gather some "H.H.U.," or hand-picked hard-ups," that is, cigarette ends culled from the pavements or gutters, and forming the staple fragrant weed for the fraternity. My other friend, an old tramp, sixty years of age, for twenty of which he had not done a day's work, and myself sought out the workhouse in the Warwick Road.

Let me here interpose a further remark about tobacco. Smoking is strictly prohibited in the casual ward, and before we entered my elderly friend concealed a few matches and his little clay pipe and tobacco in the toe of one his big boots. If any of my readers happen in the vicinity of the workhouse any evening about six o'clock, they may observe "Weary Willie" resorting to various smugglers tricks in order to dodge the search for suspected contraband. Some have cunningly devised pockets fashioned in the seams of their trousers, and one old vagrant I met on the road in the neighbourhood of Banbury had a veritable cave in his hat. He wore an old "bowler," and over the crown had fitted a second one, slightly taller than the original, and forming a space in which his smoking outfit was concealed.

Having completed this little act of preparation, we entered the premises, with their pleasant front garden, and faced the ordeal. Having had our names, ages, occupations, places journeyed from and destinations (or such us we gave them) entered in the "Register for Casuals," and handed in our little bundles of possessions, we underwent the search, but the old man's boots escaped the scrutiny. Then I was able to indulge in a good hot bath, not equally grateful to my companion, who remarked, "I've 'ad four baths this week, an' it aint good ter 'ave too many." Donning a clean workhouse night-shirt, I was shown my bed-chamber, which consisted of a clean whitewashed cell. bed was comfortable hammock made of matting, and mv covering two rugs. For supper I was provided with eight ounces of bread, with a tin of hot water to wash it down. But I soon "bedded-down," and despite the early hour was quickly asleep, and did not wake until the bell rang at six o'clock the next morning. I quickly dressed, and then received a breakfast of bread and hot water.

An hour later my cell door was opened, and I lined up with about twenty others to be allotted the task I was required perform in return for the night's shelter. With three others I was taken to a shed in which stood a pump with three handles. These we were expected to turn until the cistern of water was filled. Other vagrants were set to work gardening, wood-sawing and cleaving. Setting to work with a will, in two hours, that is nine o'clock, we had filled the cistern. Then we rested until ten o'clock, when we were allowed to depart. A number, however, wore kept at work throughout the day and sheltered for another night. These received for dinner eight ounces of bread and one-and-a-half ounces of cheese, with bread and water supper and breakfast.

On leaving the workhouse, I was given a "Bread Ticket" for a mid-day meal. This was filled in with the name of gentleman at a place I should pass on my route to my destination. and requested him to deliver me half-a-pound of bread, and was signed by the master the Banbury workhouse. The Banbury Board Guardians have recently adopted this system of giving vouchers to tramps to obtain food of officially appointed people at the Union's expense. It is in operation in many Unions, and knocks the bottom out of the tale of the hungry tramp. If supported by the householder it is sure to have an effect in the district in which it operates. Naturally, it is not popular, and it is having the desired effect in Oxfordshire. I asked one old roadster twenty years standing about it, and he replied. "Lor, mate, this 'ere county is fair knocked now. Try as you will the fowks'll give you nowt."

Armed with my bread ticket, I departed from Banbury casual ward. Let me say that the rooms are spotlessly clean and the accommodation compares more than favourably with many such places I have visited, while the officials, in their often unpleasant duties, are humane, and show tact and discretion in their methods. The tasks imposed are within the ability of any able-bodied man.

Now let me say a few things of the class with whom have mixed in the foregoing experience. The habitual vagrant, who for years has preyed upon the charitable disposition of others and scorned true labour, is as wily as the proverbial "Heathen Chinee." "Work," said one of them, is what fools make themselves tired with. He must, however, dissemble before those on whom he preys, and with all its pros and cons, the Insurance Act is assisting to turn the limelight on the "habitual," and he is beginning, in consequence, to discover the value of an asset in the shape of an insurance card, partially stamped. In disgust a certain number have not yet arrived at the useless stage have armed themselves with an insurance card and found a temporary job or two, but that cunning member of the nomadic fraternity, whom I have previously described under the designation the "gagger," has commenced to stamp his own card occasionally. His pitiful "gag" can now be given great deal of colour by the production of the card with one or two stamps on it, so when in luck he lays out sevenpence, and by it often catches half-a-crown.

This imposition on the charitably disposed suggests another matter, and that is the secret signs by which they are indicated to followers on the same beat or by which those followers are warned off unprofitable or dangerous spots. It is, of course, well-known that such signs exist, but the easy-going householder who relieves a tramp at his door overlooks the fact that he thereby invites the call of the rest of the column following in the wake what he deemed a purely individual appeal for help. In my visit to Oxfordshire I found this system operation as elsewhere. It is chiefly with the residences of the well-to-do in the country that the signs are used, but the better-class houses in Banbury are similarly favoured. The "spots," as they are called, are discussed when the casuals meet each other, and new discoveries are reported be used and marked. I would suggest that householders in the class of residences I have indicated should examine occasionally the rear of their gate posts, or look under some overhanging creeper or ivy, or some loose wall stone. They may discover chalked symbol which will, if they are sufficiently informed, enable them to apprise themselves at the value the tramp sets them. I give few of these signs, with the meaning they convey to the fraternity:—

 Religious. Good for a hymn or tale of wife and children starving.

 Policeman's house close here.

 Money given here for good "gag."

 No good. Keep away. Magistrate.

 Servants all right for "wrap up" (parcel of food).

 Dog at back.

It must not supposed that all the Banbury "Weary Willies" are penniless. By "gagging," "griddling," or "open mouching" they often receive coppers. To prevent these being discovered when in the "spike" they adopt curious ways. At one time they embedded the coins in the piece of soap they generally carried, but the workhouse official has recently adopted the plan of probing the soap discovers with hat-pin in the hope of discovering certain treasure. A "gagger" I met in my local travels who had gathered 2s. 8d., assured me that he was not going to spend any it on a lodging-house, and after spending sevenpence in beer and "baccy," invested the remainder in postal order, sealed it in envelope, secreted it on his person, and was entertained for the night by the ratepayers.

There is one creature the tramp detests, and that is a little dog. "Leicester Bill," whom I struck in the course of a visit to these parts, confided to me follows: "I aint arf afeard of Newfoundland as I am of one of those nasty, snappy little dogs, 'cos they wont shut up, but keeps on barkin, and if Johnny Gallagher (the policeman) is anywhere about he's up the street minute and yer get copt."

I found that people round Banbury, as elsewhere, are getting what is called "tricky," and "Ginger Smith," tramp of twenty years calling, rough and uncouth, whom I struck on my visit, bewailed to that all are not as simple they were. The "'elmet" dodge is played by the householder, and is disconcerting, unless the tramp is sure of his ground. As rule he does not take the risk, but decamps and gives it the benefit the doubt. If it gets too much adopted it will, of course, defeat its end, although within bounds it is a good devise. "Ginger Smith" recounted how, going into a local village (the name of which I will not disclose), and knocking at a cottage door on the usual pretext of seeking "tommy" (food), "when the woman opened the door what should be staring me in the face but a bobby's 'elmet. I didn't stop long, I can tell yer. an' wud yer believe it, when I goes up to another 'ouse I come across another un 'ung up just inside the doorway. But I 'ears as fowks is buyin these old bobby's 'elmets ter frighten away tramps."' If "Ginger" is to be believed the ruse seems in danger being overdone. Tho soap trick seems, like many customs, to be the subject of a revival, so according to Gipsy Chirk, who described how it was being practiced in this district. It is, of course, an old ruse to fall prostrate on a doorstep and spit out soapsuds, but the humane cottager may be overcome by the and spectacle and I recommend an unfailing remedy to be promptly administered in the form of a bucket of cold water.

And so the tramp, the flotsam and jetsam of this life, pitting his trickery against his fellow-men, the terror of the peaceful householder and wayfarer, and the despair of the social reformer. I have not exhausted his characteristics and his methods, but space forbids me tell more.