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During the course of his travels, Kennedy had one close call, when he dozed off and slipped from the rod of his freight train on the approach to Cleveland.He suffered severe cuts on his right arm, but lived.Finally, when Bill was seventeen or eighteen, he and Joe, two years younger, hopped a freight train bound for the West.
He stopped running, too, as he entered adulthood — in those days, grown men just didn’t run around with no apparent aim.In contemporary parlance, they were “hoboing,” sneaking a ride by train to a new town, where they would then seek work.(Even perennial hobos looked down on “tramps,” who had no intention of working.) Though the brothers returned to their native New York City at some point, Bill soon beat his way west again, and he spent years traveling and working around the country.But in time, he would take up that pursuit again, with a passion. For the next couple years, the widower and his oldest son would struggle along, living and working together, bereft of the tempering influence of the woman they’d loved.Bill and his brother Joe increasingly enraged their father with their late-night carousing.
Wearing a cloth cap on his head and a button-down shirt and tie under his work overalls, he would stoop over to pick up a brick from its pile, place it on the mortar bed, and tap it into place, then stoop to pick up a new brick, over and over, hundreds of times a day.