Henry Stuart Baker at the Derby Union Workhouse, Derbyshire, 1911.

A NIGHT IN DERBY CASUAL WARD.

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LIFE PICTURES OF THE TRAMPS WHO VISIT THE TOWN.

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The "Spike," the "Derrick," and the "Grubber."

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By AMATEUR CASUAL.

"The 'Spike' in Derby," said an old tramp to me, while gardening in Nottingham Workhouse grounds, ain't bloomin' good. It's a 'ard un, an' ef you wer' me, matey, yer'd keep out on it."

Not very flattering testimonial to the kindly shelter of Derby casual ward, but as the tramp mentioned was a " Reg'lar," I could quite understand his antipathy to the "spike" in question.

"For 40 years," he went on, I've padded the 'oof on the "toby" (been on the tramp), an' I recon as Derby owt ter treat me better than they does."

Anyhow, I may say that during the few months in which, as an "Amateur Casual," I have been mixing with these nomads of the road, on several occasions, miles away from Derby, I have heard its casual ward described by many Weary Willies "as a 'ard un."

Now, as one who is seeking some solution of the problem how to deal with the ever-increasing number of wastrels who are infesting our highways, has visited many casual wards, and written on the subject nearly a hundred articles for the Press, I determined to try for myself the spike in Derby, and give the readers of this paper, many of whom no doubt contribute towards the poor rate, the benefit of my experience.

Before, however, anyone can enter into "Tramp Life Investigation," they must know something of the tramp vernacular, which is almost on a par with that of the Romany. The "Weary Willie" and "Tired Tim" variety of tramp is well known to readers of comic papers, and certainly a goodly few at present leading a wandering existence in Great Britain are true types of this species.

But, occasionally, well-educated men, damned for some cause or other by society and its attendant respectability, are to be met with "on the road," men who can claim an "alma mater," linguists, financiers — ay! even of the clergy. Forty per cent, have been soldiers — now as crippled, despairing Nomadic warriors they struggle with grim hunger and cold.

Will the tramp work? Why, Guardians tell you he won't! But he will. "Will he stick it?" I am compelled to say that he won't. He will try it for a clay — a week — then the uneasy craving for Nomadic life — only perhaps properly understood by adventurers and explorers, overcomes him. He throws up his job, and once more takes to the road.

Now, Derby casual or vagrant ward is known to the tramp as a "spike," a "derrick," or a "grubber." The Workhouse itself he calls the "lump," while the food he receives there is "scran," "tommy," or "rooty." The workhouse inmates who assist the porter are termed facetiously "tramp majors."

Nearly all tramps have "scran pockets." These have great holding capacities. I saw a little wizened old vagrant turn out his "scran pocket" by the roadside on the Ashby main drag, the other day. It contained a tin of tea and sugar (mixed), a quantity of bread (buttered and otherwise), a packet of cigarette ends (H.H.U., as the tramp calls them — handpicked, hard up) — a "drum," a tin can for holding hot water or tea, a piece of a comb, two old newspapers, and several strips of calico, suitable for "toe-rags," for the "reg'lar" never wears socks, simply strips of cloth wrapped round his feet.

Several classes of these Nomads are to be found nightly in Derby casual ward. Who does not know the "griddler," singing in his most melancholy tones, "Lead, kindly light"? He frequents the back streets, keeping a sharp look-out for "Johnny Gallagher," he terms the Derby policeman. Then there is the "door thumper," "who at meal times appears at the back doors of Derby householders, and pleads for food and hot water. Navvies tramping from place to place, "gangers," the "higher class tramps," with their plausible tales, and, occasionally, the genuine unemployed workman, seeking a "job," all pass through the hands of the officials of Derby casual ward.

It is for the latter class of "trampers" that I plead. Surely, before long, something will be done to find them a night's shelter with a proper meal, without their having to mix with the idle vagrants of the casual ward.

This must lower their standard, must injure their self-respect — ay! and in time bring them to the level of the "reg'lar" tramp."

However, to describe the regime adopted in Derby casual ward.

I arrived at Derby as dusk was falling, accompanied by a typical "door thumper." He looked his part so well, that I noticed several policemen cast a sharp eye on the pair of us as he snuffled, cold and hungry, into the town.

"I'm off to 'mouch' my tea," he told me as I parted from him, and off he went down a street of workmen's dwellings, where no doubt was well rewarded for his temerity.

I wandered about until six o'clock came, then marched out towards the Uttoxeter-road, en route for the Workhouse. I recalled some doggerel rhyme I had seen written upon the Walls at Ashby, but they certainly did not express my feelings:—

"The sailor loves the sea,
 The soldier loves his camp,
But give to me this gold old spike,
 And the free, open life of tramp."

However, on reaching the "big house" I found outsides the gates crowd of about a dozen roadsters, including a woman — a sad sight to see on tramp. Most them had little bundles, in which they wrapped their possessions, and I did likewise, tying up in my handkerchief my few papers, pipe, tobacco, and matches.

The tricks of the tramp to smuggle in his beloved pipe end tobacco are many. Smoking Derby in casual ward is strictly forbidden, but the "reg'lar" by hiding his little short pipe in his boot, or some other cute spot, occasionally gets it through, and indulges in a puff of the forbidden weed.

However, to continue. When the gate was opened we all filed in and turned to that portion of the buildings devoted to the housing of the tramps. Here, my name, age, occupation, place Journeyed from, and destination were entered the register of casuals. Then I handed in my bundle for safe-keeping, and underwent a search by the porter. So carefully was this done, that I imagine it would take a wily weary Willie to get any contraband goods into Derby casual ward.

Now came the bath. The "reg'lar" doesn't care for this part of the regime — at least not too often. Some tramps I am acquainted with get as many as 20 hot baths every month — of course a few of them need it.

For my part, I enjoyed the warm dip, then donning a Workhouse nightshirt, I was shown to my bedroom. This consisted of a small, well-warmed cell, and with two good rugs as a covering I managed that night to make myself tolerably comfortable. My supper was 8ozs. of bread with hot water.

At 6.30 the next morning, I was awakened by my cell door being thrown open. All casuals, I may say, are locked in their cells, which are furnished with bells should they wish to communicate at any time with the officials.

After dressing, I received breakfast, bread and "skilly" (gruel), and about hour later was called upon to perform the task required by the Guardians from all casuals who obtain shelter in Derby vagrant ward.

Now, Derby Is what the tramp terms "an all-day 'spike,'" that is, he is detained one day and two nights.

When we all paraded this chilly morning before the labour master, evidently he quickly "spotted2 the "reg'lars," for a number of typical weary Willies were given hammers and set to work break a heap of stones. For my own part, I accompanied seven others into the wood shed, where we were soon hard at it, sawing wood. Two or three were also detailed off to clear out the wards.

I had heard much of the "Derby task of work," but daring this day I can state that the work to be performed was well within the capacity of any able-bodied man. Many of the reg'lars had finished their task of stone-breaking by two o'clock. For dinner we received 8ozs. of bread and 2ozs. of cheese, but I believe occasionally soup and bread is the diet.

Just after four o'clock, work ceased for the day, and we were allowed to indulge in a good wash. Then we received our suppers, again 8ozs. of bread, and by six o'clock were a-bed, resting with the knowledge that eight o'clock the next morning should free to resume our "wonderings."

Such is the treatment meted out to casuals who put up at Derby Workhouse at the expense of the ratepayers of the town. Despite its "tramp reputation" mentioned at the commencement of this article, in my estimation it fulfils as well as any I have visited the requirements for which it was established.

Certainly, there is nothing "luxuriant" for the reg'lar tramp — he receives no encouragement, nor does he deserve any. His task has to be done, hence his dislike to the "spike." The rooms are kept very clean, and the officials endeavour carry out their often irksome duties in a humane manner. It is to be hoped, however, that before long the Poor Law Commissioners will be able to formulate some scheme to utilise all this "waste humanity" for the world's good.

H. STUART BAKER.