Westbound

My name is Jim Rivett. On behalf of Adolph’s family and everyone at Arketype, I would like to thank you for being here today to celebrate the incredible life of Adolph Vandertie.

First of all, I would like to extend our heartfelt appreciation to the Vandertie family for graciously sharing your father and trusting us with the honor of telling his life story through film. Nancy and Jake, Terry and Mary, Rick and Lynn - our deepest sympathies for your loss.

David Vandertie, even though our encounter was brief, thank you, as well.

Terry and Mary: your patience and help with all the details of the interviews has been amazing. Thank You.

Adolph’s neighbors were so kind to us also.

A special thanks to Tracy Goltz and Carrie Goltz for making this connection happen. If it weren’t for Carrie’s surprise visit on Christmas Eve 2005, connecting us to Tracy, and Tracy to Adolph, we may have never embarked on this journey of sharing your grandfather’s fascinating life with so many people.

At first, Adolph was simply the subject of our documentary. As our friendship deepened, we knew we had found someone truly unique. He opened up something far greater than we could have imagined.

A few others who hopped on board need to be thanked as well. Ron and Colleen Weyers, Sharon Resch, Rick and Lynn Vandertie, and Adolph, himself, have all helped in allowing us to tell his unique story. All of Adolph’s friends at the John Michael Kohler Art Center were also pivotal in his life. Thank you for making his dreams a reality.

Adolph is central to the “Hobo Universe,” as I like to call it.

He had friends who were real hobos, wanna-be-hobos, or possessed a “hobo’s heart,” as Adolph would say. Friends like Box Car Willie and Steam Train Maurie to name a few; kindred souls that created this underground galaxy of interesting, unique and loving characters. And all his friends here today. We all know Adolph is smiling down on us.

One Saturday, Adolph wanted me to take him to his favorite restaurant, the Golden Corral, followed by a stop at the National Railroad Museum. Sitting on a bench in front of the Dwight D. Eisenhower steam engine, Adolph and I talked about the odds of us meeting and why we hadn’t met earlier. We both knew of each other, but our paths never crossed. He simply said, “I guess I had more living to do and the time is right now.” He talked openly about catching the Westbound train, a hobo metaphor for one’s final journey… and how beautiful that ride would be. Adolph was never afraid to talk openly about death, or any subject for that matter.

Even though Adolph is gone from this physical world, he left behind memories that remind me that he is still with us.

• His rock-star reception as we arrived in Britt, Iowa, for the annual Hobo Convention in 2006. Women lined up on the street crying. Old loves reuniting. The bandana Adolph gave me there is still tied around the stick shift of my jeep and will remain.

• The proud look on his face as he rode in the hobo parade will always remain in my memory.

• Gobbling down two “Pork Chops on a Stick” in Britt.

• Adolph is the first name on my cell phone contact listings. It will remain that way. I may want to call him someday.
• The gun on the side of his bed board. Sometimes I feared the gun would go off when we were helping him get into bed. When Adolph was ill last February, a nurse and I tried to get him propped up in bed and the entire bed collapsed with the nurse falling right on top of Adolph. I thought for sure the gun would go off, but Adolph was smiling because he had the nurse right where he wanted her….in his lap.

• And, of course, how could I ever drink a Coke or eat chocolate-covered peanuts again without thinking of him.

Adolph was so open. He was like no one I had ever encountered before. To be nearly a century old and have such a wonderful view on life was intoxicating.
He allowed me to see that aging didn’t mean cutting yourself off from people, limiting your world or ceasing to make new friends; instead he showed me that you could live engaged in a dynamic and passionate life right up to the end.

Yes, some of his stories were embellished and his famous line, “You can tell when I am lying because my lips are moving,” always brought a laugh.

No matter where the truth began and the stories ended, maybe these were the tools Adolph used to shelter him from the not-so-happy realities he had endured during his life.

Adolph openly discussed feeling like a second-class citizen due to the meager income his family survived on.

Although he always said Franklin D. Roosevelt was his hero, it is likely that his mother, who raised 10 children on her own, was his true hero in life. You could see it when he talked about her and expressed his regrets about feeling like he hadn’t done enough for her in his life.

Adolph was never afraid to talk about the things he regretted in life; the things he could have done better or differently. But somehow, he accepted it at face value.

“It was what it was, and there’s nothing we could do,” he stated so many times.

Adolph was also a poster boy for people who battled or continue to battle their own addictions. Adolph’s sobriety for 56 years served as a beacon of hope for so many people in their own lives. His story was one of truth and compassion that he openly shared with others.

Adolph was not one for organized religion, but I think he was connected to nature in a way that gave him comfort and hope for more than what this physical world represented.

Although he may not have been able to express it openly, there was one consistent thread that was clear in all of our interviews—his ongoing love and pride for his four children. He never failed to mention how proud he was of Nancy, Terry, Rick, and David; and how lucky he was to have all the wonderful grandchildren and great-grandchildren in his life.

And of course there was Adeline, his sweetheart for nearly 69 years. Adolph’s stories about her were heartwarming and humorous. We all know that he must have been a handful for Adeline. Many times, he would mention how he could feel her spirit outside. She was in the wind and the flowers, he would say.

Adeline was his true love.

However, there is something that happened in Britt, Iowa, that very few know. I hate to break it to all of you this way, but…Adolph got married at the Hobo Convention in Britt, Iowa, two summers ago. He married a beautiful 30-something red-head from London who worked at the BBC. The marriage took place on Saturday night at the Hobo campfire by an ordained priest. It was a quick wedding, and he had been courting her all afternoon. I think it was annulled as they were saying their vows. It was a very comical and hilarious moment, not unlike his other flirtatious antics.

We will certainly miss Adolph. He was like family to us. One of his last outings was the Arketype Open House. He had a wonderful time, even though it was most likely the last time he would see many of his friends.

Many times Adolph would tell me about a reoccurring dream. He would describe it as we sat at his kitchen table.
He was waiting in the bushes, watching this large black steam train come around the curve. Steam was coming out of the engine as it approached him. He was trying to get on board, but he couldn’t jump on, and missed it. He was very upset. He told me how real the dream was and how he would wake up crying.

Adolph finally caught that Westbound train. As he climbed on board, I’m sure he was smiling with that mischievous, toothless grin.

Travel safe, Adolph, “Grand Duke of the Hobo Whittlers.”

Written by Jim Rivett on February 13th, 2008 | No Comments »

Recently, while visiting Adolph’s home, I witnessed his deceased wife’s clothes being placed in garbage bags and set on the curb by his daughter, Nancy. Adeline’s clothes were being thrown out (instead of donated to some thrift shop) because chipmunks had invaded the closet, making their home in the pockets of those old clothes. Her dresses harbored the chipmunks’ stash of sunflower seeds as if they were stockpiling the cellar for a long winter. Pants’ pockets overflowed with bountiful harvests that must have taken the chippies months to accumulate.

Nancy commented that the chipmunks lived in the attic and in the walls throughout the entire home. “Once he passes, they are going to have to bulldoze this house.”

Then something occurred to me. There, Adolph sat in his living-room chair clinging to life, holding onto the remains of what he once was, while the final remains of his love of over 70 years were cast into the garbage. Despite it all, the obsession that occupied the moment was those darn chipmunks.

“How beautiful,” I thought. What could anyone do except let nature take its course?

In truth, Adolph loved those little chippies, so much so, it’s only fitting they move into his house. After all, he was their mentor. He once taught them how to play the harmonica by placing seeds in the instrument, the notes sounding as they ate seeds from the mouthpiece.

In effect, the chipmunks have been performing their own hobo whittling on an old hobo’s house! They are in the rafters and walls gnawing on the house frame and two-by-fours, leaving marks reminiscent of the little carving trails Adolph creates on his hobo whimsies! How beautiful!

I then imagined Adolph slipping away one sad night, the tiny chipmunks coming together to honor the passing of their mentor. They’d run across his bed, and throughout the house in search of all the unfinished whittlings he was unable to complete. The chipmunks would then gather all the partial pieces onto the kitchen table and begin to gnaw and whittle, taking over where Adolph left off. Wood shavings made by the little creatures he loved so much would cover the kitchen floor, with chocolate-covered peanuts and Coke cans strewn here and there as they went about their work.

It made me smile. And I know such a sight would make Adolph smile, too, as he has an uncanny ability to see the humor in all aspects of life and death.

Written by Jim Rivett on December 18th, 2007 | No Comments »

I remember whittling as a child; passing time playing in the country or by one of the many campfires we had at night. I don’t recall making anything more spectacular than a pointed stick for roasting marshmallows or minor little carvings to suit my fancy, nothing that could compare to the thousands of whittlings that belong to Adolph Vandertie. Yet, I can definitely see the appeal of this craft to Adolph and his fellow hobos.

With the countless hours spent riding rails and living in hobo jungles, whittling gave hobos a way to keep occupied. Constantly traveling and having to jump trains, a hobo could not carry much on his or her person. One of these few possessions was a knife. Its preeminent reasoning was not for protection, but for the multiple other uses it offered. The other component for this hobby, wood, was also readily available. The hobo jungles were contained within the safety of the woods closest to the depots to allow easy access to board the next train.

It is sad that these traits are dying out. For, why would someone go outside and carve at a piece of wood when they have 600 channels of entertainment readily available, a vast and infinite World Wide Web at their fingertips and countless other electronic devices in our technology savvy world. It is hard to relate with this older generation, to understand these pieces of our culture that are disappearing.

I never really put much thought into the whittling I did as a child and never really knew much of the craft. After meeting Adolph and learning his story, I soon came to realize how much of an impact this craft has had on our society. Yet, there is so much more to the documentary than just whittling. Having worked with the footage containing the interviews of Adolph, I grew to love him very quickly. Laughing with him during his happy times and your heart goes out to his hardships. Adolph’s story is captivating, and the journey of making this documentary is something that I’ll always remember. It has been a pleasure and an honor meeting and working with everyone involved.

Written by Reanna Reimer on November 2nd, 2007 | No Comments »

Adolph, the subject of our feature length documentary, has an ever-expanding universe of family and friends who seamlessly intertwine. I am not sure if we are bringing people into Adolph’s Hobo Universe, Westbound’s Universe, or some strange amalgamation of both.

Regardless, Victoria Vox is the newest constellation in Westbound’s Universe and cast of characters. It was during a post-concert party for Jackson Brown’s Steel Bridge Concert in Sturgeon Bay this summer that I encountered Victoria Vox.

I have known Victoria’s mother, Chris Style, for years and I thought I would introduce myself. Standing next to Victoria was Jane Weidland from the Go Go’s, who looked at me suspiciously, like I was some hovering, rabid fan that she wanted to go away. I felt bad that everyone was asking Mr. Brown for autographs so I said to Ms. Weidland, “Thanks for coming.” Well the Queen couldn’t have thrown daggers as cold. I really wanted to talk to Victoria anyway and eventually purchased her CD midway through our brief conversation. I don’t normally just walk up to people and introduce myself, so I wonder about those “what if’s.” What if I hadn’t had the nerve to walk up to Victoria?

A few days later I listened to her CD, Victoria Vox and Her Jumping Flea. What a pleasant surprise. The more I listened the more I thought, “she would be perfect for Westbound!”

Playback:stl magazine refers to her CD as “A glorious melange!” and Ms. Vox is just that. Performing on both guitar and ukulele, Vox has been compared to a mix of Jewel, Miles Davis, and Don Ho.

Listening to her CD reminded me of the songs Adolph might have running through his mind. Songs that a 96-year-old man might hum as he reflects back to the days when he was a young man on the move, romancing the pretty girls. The fact that Victoria wrote half of the songs on the CD was an added bonus. Her talent is truly amazing. Her song America was haunting in its simplicity and honesty of emotion. I knew I had to call her to see if she was willing to enter our little universe…Westbound.

More to come…

www.victoriavox.com
www.myspace.com/victoriavox

Written by Jim Rivett on August 7th, 2007 | No Comments »

“Hobos were very gifted liars, and meet number one right here.”
–Adolph Vandertie, August 2006

When I came to Arketype in the summer of 2006, as an intern, I was immediately given the hefty task of logging, transcribing, and organizing all 70 plus hours of Westbound footage. And we’re not done yet! It didn’t take a great deal of watching and listening to Adolph on screen for me to realize that he is indeed wise, with a great story to tell, even though it varied slightly each time.

I have to admit, I had my doubts.

Coming into this project all I was told was that Adolph was a 95 year-old hobo who didn’t make it through the 8th grade, and spent his life whittling – what’s so intriguing about that? As far as I was concerned a hobo was a homeless person, and whittling was the most boring and futile pastime I could imagine.

It didn’t take long for me to realize that I was quite mistaken. The first time I met Adolph he asked me if I was Mary. And I had to laugh, because I already knew from watching his interviews that Mary was code for girlfriend. They told me he was a charmer, but I guess I really didn’t believe it until then. I told him my name and that he could call me Mary if he wanted. He then proceeded to show me his enchanting whimsies with ball in cages and I realized why the fuss. They are truly amazing, not only because they are beautiful to look at, but because with each one he told a different story. Each piece was a creation from a time in his life. You can see all the marks his knife left behind, and those pieces, in a way, are his story – a story that will never cease to amaze me. And though he calls himself a “gifted liar,” I know the experiences really are true, I think he just likes to embellish them a little.

Written by Ashley Kramer on July 13th, 2007 | No Comments »

One of the first things that Adolph wanted to make very clear to us when we began this film was the fact that he was a hobo—not a tramp, and certainly not a bum. A person of any sense would never refer to a hobo as a tramp or a tramp as a bum. That would be disrespectful. There is a hierarchy within the culture and if you are an outsider the first step toward acceptance is an understanding of this structure.

I began to do a bit of research and was surprised by what I found within this subculture of wandering people.

A National Hobo Convention.

A hobo museum.

A hobo cemetery.

Hobo symbols.

A hobo language.

Biddles = Eggs
Glad Rags = Fancy Clothes
Red Ball = A fast fruit train, good for long rides.
Yegg = A hobo criminal who usually made his living by stealing from working hobos.

This got me thinking about the term “hobo.” Where did the name originate? And what is the difference between a hobo and a tramp?

I went straight to the source to find out…

Adolph’s eyes lit up as he began to talk about the lifestyle that he had spent 75 years trying to preserve—“Oh, let me assure you, there’s a big difference between a tramp and a hobo.”

With great pride he continued the tales of his rambling brothers…

Through further conversation with Adolph, we learned that hobos were people – men, women, and sometime children – that were “just down on their luck.” They were always willing to work for a meal. As for tramps, they may do odd jobs from time to time, but did not seek out regular work and chose to support themselves by begging or scavenging. Both the terms “tramp” and “hobo” (and the distinction between them) were in common use between the 1880s and the 1940s. Certainly not limited to the Great Depression as we had previously been told.

We had a lot to learn and just the man to teach us.

Written by Shelly Young on April 6th, 2007 | No Comments »

As we get closer to our last shooting days for the film Westbound, I think it is important to start where we began. To do so, I must first introduce a couple of the people involved:

Jim Rivett, Arketype’s Co-Principal. His mind is constantly in motion.

Adolph Vandertie, Grand Duke of the Hobos. Living large at 95 and 3/4 years young.

Now, as they say in the industry…rewind.

December 24, 2005. Jim’s good friend Carrie Goltz was in Green Bay for the holidays and dropped by for a surprise visit. After the usual hellos, the conversation quickly turned to Adolph

“How old is he now?” Jim inquired.
“94,” said Carrie.
“94?!” Alarms immediately went off in Jim’s mind. ”Oh my God!” As is typical with Jim, he leapt into motion.

By mid-morning Christmas day, Jim called to tell me about some guy who lived in our neighborhood and had an amazing collection of hobo and tramp art. Little did I know this was the same “old guy” I had been hearing about since I was a child.

We pulled things together, and scheduled our first shoot date with Mr. Vandertie for January 26, 2006. With nothing more than a meeting and a quick interview on our minds, we walked in the door of Adolph’s tiny nondescript home filled with hobo whimsies, tramp art, and a lifetime of memories. It was unlike anything we had ever seen and upon his first statement, “Set that camera up folks; I’ve got three things to talk about…sex, politics, and religion,” we knew we had found a jewel.

30 shoot days, 25 hours of interviews, 20 hours of B-Roll, a gubernatorial commendation, a road trip to the National Hobo Convention in Britt, Iowa, and a year later we have discovered that Adolph was not just some old guy who created incredible works of self-taught art. He is a man with much to say—a life story to tell.

Hardship and heartache, joy and fascination, Adolph has shared it all. Westbound is his story captured as a full-length feature documentary; the story of how one man—Adolph Vandertie—met another man— Jim Rivett—and from there it was just the beginning.

As one of the Producers of Westbound I invite you to join us for future entries to the blog. You will hear from a number of people involved in the production of the film as we introduce you to hobo whimsies and tramp art, Arketype and its newfound commitment to filmmaking, as well as continual updates on all the latest Westbound news.

Written by Shelly Young on March 13th, 2007 | No Comments »