Trampin’ ain’t all ridin’ freight trains. It’s plenty a hard work. They’ll be times I won’t ride fer six months. When I’m workin’, I’ll live in a jungle, but I won’t ride. I won’t be ridin’ outta Florida till the oranges an’ grapefruit’s done. Come spring, when the weather breaks, I”ll head out west to California an’ pick cherries ‘roun’ Stockton. That’ll be in May. I’ll work the cherries fer awhile an’ head up to Washin’ton. There’s a man in Wenatchee let’s me have a cabin durin’ the summer while I work ‘roun’ his apple orchard, doin’ things need tendin’ to; prunin’ an’ proppin’, lookin’ after the orchard, things like that. I’ll stay in that cabin maybe a month er two. Then it’s pickin’ pears, an’ shortly after that, late September, October, I”ll start in on the apples. Soon’s the apples are done, I’ll leave Washin’ton an’ make my way back down to Florida. Be in Florda by November, December an’ start on citrus again.

I tried punchin’ a clock. Had me a job workin’ in a fact’ry in Kansas City fer a couple a years. I did a good job. There weren’t never any complaints ‘bout my work. But the job didn’t sit too well with me. I got to feelin’ cooped up so I quit, got in my car an’ headed out to California. That was in ’57. Wasn’t long b’fore I ran outta money an’ needed a job again, so I hired out on a pickin’ crew ‘roun’ Stockton. Made thirty-five dollars my first day. Darn good money fer back then. A lot more ‘n I made in that fact’ry. I got to thinkin’ it wasn’t such a bad way to make a livin’, so I kept on with it, pickin’ fruit, followin’ the seasons. The wages never did come up to that first day, an’ the work wasn’t all that easy, but I stuck with it. Least there wasn’t somebody standin’ over you, givin’ orders. I got rid a my car in ’63, an’ ‘ve been on the railroad ever since.

I’ll always work fer a guy who pays daily. That way you got the money in yer pocket, an’ not waitin’ on yer check all week, workin’ fer promises. They don’t take promises at the store. I won’t work fer a guy who doesn’t look after his pickers either. Like this colored contractor. He had his kid runnin’ the goat, an’ ever’ time I hollered “goat”, the kid’d be off doin’ somethin’ else an’ my bins’d be filled an’ I’d have to start droppin’ the fruit on the groun’ till he got there. Had me piles a fruit by those trees an’ I had to pick it all up an’ refill the bins when the kid finally showed up with the goat. That’s double work yer not getting’ paid fer. It went on like that all day. When we got back to town, the old man is handin’ us our pay as we’re gittin’ off the truck, an’ he sez, “See you tomorrow, Slim.” I sez, “No you won’t,” an’ tol’ him why. He chewed out the kid, but I never will work fer him again.

A contractor’s got to hold up his end. The guy I’m workin’ fer now, looks after his men. He picks us up in the mornin’, an’ on our way to the grove, he’ll stop at a store an’ lend ever’ man on the truck money ‘nuff to buy themselves food an’ tobaccer fer the day. He knows these guys don’t have ‘nuff money to eat with in the mornin’, an’ they might need a little somthin’ to git theirselves goin’. Might be a guy’ll need himself a drink b’fore he c’n git movin’. He’ll take it outta yer pay at the end a the day, but he don’t charge no int’rest er nothin’. Some a the crew’ll wind up ownin’ him money, on account a what they picked don’t cover what they borrowed in the mornin’. He’ll let it ride. Marks it down in his book, an’ you pay him the next time yer out.

Most guys been pickin’ ‘bout two bins a day; some only end up with one. At six dollars a bin, that ain’t much fer a days work. One er two a the good pickers’ll pick anywheres from five to eight bins in a single day, but to make that kinda money, you got to scramble up an’ down those ladders an’ not stop all day. You gotta work fast, like a machine an’ keep yer momentim goin’. You got to fill up yer sack, dump it in yer bin an’ be back up in the tree like greased lightnin’. An’ the sacks, when they’re fulla oranges, weigh ninety pounds. When you got that kind a weight hangin’ over yer shoulders all day, it’ll slow you down some. A good picker’ll let the weight a the sack rest on the ladder while he’s pickin’, but no matter which way you do it, you’ll still feel it come quittin’ time.

These orange trees is good size. Got to watch yerself on that top fruit. Most a the branches is pretty thin near the top. Lotta times the ladder’ll slip off the branches, on account a there ain’t nothin’ sturdy to lean it on. I’ve seen guys break their backs in these groves, fallin’ outta trees. If I’m pickin’ way up top an’ feel the ladder begin to slide an’ I know I’m goin’ down, the first thing I do’s cover my eyes. Those thorns on the orange trees is likely to poke yer eyes out on the way down.

The low fruit’s where you make yer money, standin’ on the groun’. I c’n fill my sack in no time doin’ the low fruit. I rip into that stuff like crazy. Don’t pay no ‘tention to nothin’ but gittin’ that fruit off the tree. Last month I got snakebit while pickin’ the low fruit an’ didn’t even know it, on account a how I had my mind set on what I was doin’ an was too busy to take in what was goin’ on ‘roun’ me. I’d been straddlin’ an armadilla hole, reachin’ up into the tree an’ pullin’ off the fruit, an’ I felt this kinda pain in my knee. I thought it was jus’ a thorn, an’ kept on pickin’. It begin to sting pretty bad, so I took off my bag an’ rolled my pant leg to have a look at it, an’ I seen these two holes in my knee. Knew right off what it was. I give a look over at that armadilla hole, an’ there’s a rat’ler stickin’ part way out. I killed the snake, an’ the man in charge a the crew drove me to the hospital.

While I was in the hospital, they was givin’ me all kinds a tests fer my blood. The nurse there told me the rat’ler poison was the least a my worries, accordin’ to what they were findin’ in my blood. She said my blood was fulla that poison they spray on the trees. Said it’ll be with me the rest a my life. Don’t bother me none, ‘cept ever’ so often I’ll git me a rash on the back a my neck from it. It’ll act up if I pick in the rain or when the trees are wet, on account a the water’ll set the poison on the leaves to workin’. Some guys git it bad. Git rashes all up an’ down their arms after pickin’ in a wet tree. Them cherry orchards are the ones to watch out fer. Still use arsenic in some of ‘em. After a day a pickin’, you c’n feel that stuff burnin’ holes in yer skin.

Ever’ once in awhile, I’ll go an’ set up camp in a grove. Take a weeks groc’ries with me, an’ set up camp among the trees. I’ll have the contractor leave out some bins fer me at night, an’ soon’s I git up in the mornin’, I’ll go right to work. Gives me a few extra hours a daylight to work in. I’ll have a bin already picked by the time the rest a the crew shows up on the truck. The way it is now, me an’ Billy been jungled out on the edge a the yards, gittin’ up at five ever’ mornin’ an hikin’ two miles to town with our bedrolls an’ packs. We wait on the street corner fer the truck to show, an’ by the time we git out to the orchard it’s well near nine o’clock. It’s a lotta time spent travelin’ when you figger it’s the same thing at the end a the day. We don’t git back to the jungle till after dark, an’ we got to scrounge ‘roun’ fer firewood in the dark an’ cook in the dark. But it beats stayin’ in them shacks they got in some a those groves; payin’ rent on a place ain’t fit fer a dog, an’ buyin’ their high priced food. I’d rather sleep out. On my own. That’s the way I like it.

61.