New Souls for Old at Eustis Transient Camp

Self-supporting Utopia of Adams Rising from Ruins of Old World War Post, Where Professional Men Rub Elbows With Laborers in Daily Toil That Gives All the Chance to Rehabilitate Selves

By Jack Burgess

"I can put any man who applies here to work at his own job."

Perhaps in no better words, surely not more simply, could the magnitude of the Fort Eustis transient camp project be described than in those of Director Paul B. Murphy. And Director Murphy, like Ripley, can prove it.

There, in the heart of the Old Dominion's Tidewater region, from the ruins of the old World War army camp more recently used as a prison for Federal liquor law violators, transients are making rise a creditable, self-supporting city boasting, today, around 2,400 population.

"We'll be 3,500 strong by the first of February, I expect, if reinforcements continue to roll in as they have the last few days," Mr. Murphy comments.

The wide brick gateway, where a courteous reception committee of camp patrol members greets all, has swung wide to welcome among these industrial derelicts men of every profession and every trade--skilled and unskilled laborers--but each with a common feeling, a desire to work and to again achieve a measure of self-support.

This very spirit, to which Mr. Murphy attributes the really wonderful growth of the camp city since it was opened last October 7, is perhaps best exemplified in a verse of a poem contributed to the camp's weekly paper, the Transient City, and printed in the December 18 issue. It is by a man signing himself "J. E. W." and reads:

"I am happy that I still can get
Out with the morning mob;
It may not be what I prefer
But ain't it great to have a job?"

Fort Eustis not only serves Virginia, but under the Federal transient plan directed by William J. Plunkert, it has been designated a regional camp, serving the States of Maryland, Delaware and the District of Columbia, too. Men who are sent to Eustis are supposed to offer the Virginia director no social problem other than unemployment. That is, they are men who have entered the ordinary State transient camps and who have been found to be sincere in their desires to work, to be without family or domestic problems and to be free from illness. Fulfilling these requirements the transient is eligible to ask for transfer to this wooded Utopia of Adams ruled, not by any slave-driving Simon, nor by any condescending clique. At Eustis the men govern themselves.

Problems of this growing city, and of course there are plenty of them, are solved not from the top down, but from the bottom up and therein, it would seem, lies the secret of Mr. Murphy's rare success in handling such a motley crew of men. For, be it known, Mr. Murphy had to his credit the management of the first and up to now the largest transient camp in the country, at Nogales, Ariz., as well as a string of the camps in that Western country, before coming to Virginia. And here he is surpassing his previous record and is making Camp Eustis dwarf even his former work in the desert State.

Right here, I believe, is the place to introduce Paul Murphy to you. Responsible for the welfare of the more than two thousand men in his camp, with the myriad of details such responsibility begets, Mr. Murphy appears to know no other policy than the "open door" one. This is all the more remarkable when one considers the type of men he deals with, men who are avowedly seeking everything they can get, which means a multitude of trite, whimsical, imaginative and sorry pleas. Yet Mr. Murphy's patience seems inexhaustible for those who deem their individual cases too important for the regular routine channels and insist on visiting Post Headquarters themselves. And in short, terse sentences he doles out his decisions--he'll get action for this man on his eyeglasses; this one he'll remember is an experienced trapper; for that one he'll recommend the desired result--until at last he is allowed to retire to his inner office where with a smile he'll begin all over and is never too tired to tell the visitor about the work he is doing and his aims for his camp.

Tall, spare, with piercing eyes that fix his listener and seem to drive home the points he wants to make without the effort of manual gesture, he is an enthusiast first, an executive second, and a leader of men. A small, close-cropped mustache gives a maturity to his features which the smile wrinkles that constantly play about the corners of his mouth might belie if not so properly restricted. Humor lurks in his every glance and his movements betoken the go-getter. He meets his camp tenants on the basis that they are men with men's work to do, and so gains their respect at once, and hold it through his loyalty to, and support of, their every endeavor.

*          *          *

Now let us go back to the gate and climb into a van loaded with new arrivals from Maryland and see what becoming a citizen of Transient City means.

First we are unloaded at the doctor's office. After a physical examination to insure the fitness of each applicant, the men are directed to the work division secretary. Here, while they are giving Mr. Murphy's aide their industrial histories, let us have the director tell us something about his system.

"I opened the first transient camp in the country at Nogales," he begins, "and early devised what I believe is the best and most simple system for work of this kind.

"The camp executive work I have divided into five divisions: first, the works division; second, the special activities division; the accounting branch; the housing and grounds division, and the warehouse division.

"Under the works unit the newcomers list their previous occupational history. We allow them a first and sometimes as many as three choices of work. This unit assigns them to a job.

"The special activities department is responsible for the recreational activities, the educational facilities, the medical and statistical functions.

"The accounting division has charge of all the accounting work of the camp. Housing and grounds branch sees to the proper housing of the men and to the upkeep of the buildings and properties. Under this unit also comes the camp patrol or police duties and the fire department.

"The last is the subsistence or warehouse unit and that has charge of the various storage plants we have here, and the shipping of our products to other transient camps in the service. That briefly is our setup. Not complicated yet efficient, not a lot of Cuban generals, but just enough heads to make the business of living in such a camp run smoothly day after day.

"All the camp industries come under the works division."

*          *          *

Right here we notice that our little contingent is on the receiving end of something and we desert the director to see what's being passed out. Each man is being outfitted with his camp clothing. Then they are moved to the barracks.

"Each man is assigned a company according to his age," explained Mr. Murphy, who had caught up with us again. "Company A could be composed of men from 20 to 25 years of age; Company B of men from 25 to 30, and so on. This is done to make living conditions more congenial. A full company rates about 60 men. They are assigned to living quarters and then proceed to elect their own captain and a sergeant. The captain has charge and is held responsible for the conduct of his men as well as for their contentment. Three times a week these captains meet with the camp executives and all complaints, suggestions or changes are discussed and acted upon at that time. If Company B had a poorly cooked, cold or untasty breakfast last Thursday, we know about it promptly, and things happen so that it will not happen again. Likewise, if I want to get prompt action on some particular work or emergency measure, I can get my plans before the entire camp quickly and effectively by calling my captains together and thus spread my message to their men.

"There is no military discipline, the men march to activities in companies, but there is no drill or other military training. A camp patrol enforces the camp rules by methods of its own, and I can say that very little disciplining of any sort has been necessary here. The spirit of the men is marvelous. They have no law but the civil law to answer to.

"What happens when there is trouble? For instance, suppose there are two men in a company who are discontented, don't want to work, and like to cause unrest. Would it be fair to the other 58 men to let those two make them all miserable? Such has happened here. A captain came to me with just that problem a while back. I told him that was what he had been elected captain for, to prevent the majority of his men from suffering for the acts of a couple. I asked him if he was a real captain or only a title holder. That was all, and I sent him back to handle the affair himself. I was interested in what the result would be. It wasn't long in developing. A couple of days later the two men complained about walked into the works office and asked to resign from the camp. They were soon on their way and that company's troubles were over, from that source, at any rate. That's one reason, I believe, why here at Eustis we have such fine camp spirit. The men realize that they can make this place the sort of home they want, and that they alone are responsible for their own happiness here.'

*          *         *

By this time one may wonder, and rightly: What do the men get out of all this? Mr. Murphy answers this way:

"The men work a five and a half-hour day, with a half-day Saturdays and the whole every Sunday free. They get their keep, their work clothes and $1 a week. The money enables them to buy smokes, tooth paste, tooth brushes, go to the movies or any other little incidental they want. The movies, shown at the camp theatre and, incidentally, operated by our own regular movie operators, cost 5 cents admission, and our little theatre which now is giving two shows a day, four days a week, nets sometimes as high as $56 for a performance."

A trapping service inaugurated by the camp in the first month of the season netted pelts totaling in value nearly $1,000, which was enough to pay for the investment of 500 traps and to pay the head trapper's salary for many weeks.

Upstairs in one such barracks an enterprising camper has painted all the beds a silvery hue, which adds much to the cheerfulness. Each company has its own recreation room where cards, dominoes and checkers are always in use. Comfortable we find our new friends and leave them getting ready for their new start in life as we begin a tour of the camp's activities.

The mess halls--six of them--each have a capacity of 672. A new one in process of construction, or perhaps we should say in process of rehabilitation, will seat 2,500. The food, while plain, is wholesome and nourishing, and there is plenty of it. "Seconds" and "thirds" even, are not unknown at these tables, and the men are frequently consulted on whether they are satisfied or not.

*          *          *

The commonplace often gives a person amid strange surroundings a picture of the whole which any amount of flowery oration could not encompass. So was it here, miles from any large city, woods on every hand. A man was overheard to tell Director Murphy that he was unable to accomplish a certain mission days because he was on night duty as "night interne at the hospital and night ambulance driver."

The brief remark served to impress the fact that we were in the midst of a group of humanity which had need of those functions which seem so closely allied only with purely urban activities. And then we found that out here in these wilds that are Camp Eustis there is a finely equipped hospital, complete even to a real ambulance, ready to answer a call at any hour. A night interne, even, and this brought up a fact that startles; a fact that strips his sylvan retreat of the jobless of its idyllic aspects and brings the visitor against stark reality. Camp Eustis has its own cemetery, too.

Two graves mar the evenness of the gentle slope. They are the resting place of two transients whose family connections could not be traced. They were "forgotten men," but not forgotten by their comrades on the transient camp.

"If I could have as impressive a funeral service as the one we held here last Sunday, with the floral tributes paid my memory that this man had, I should be well content," declared Mr. Murphy. "There were flowers everywhere and a chorus of 27 male voices with a few camp women--wives of executives and secretaries--helping out. It was a beautiful service."

*          *          *

Then there is the library with its 12,000 volumes. These include fiction, travel, adventure, biographies and hundreds of books that are tantamount to text books on as many different trades. All these books are given great play by the men, and the librarian in an evening is taxed to keep pace with the demand for this reading material. A system is in vogue similar to that used in most large cities public libraries.

Every corner of the camp is as near--to steal a well-known advertising slogan--as the nearest telephone instrument, for the camp's own membership has supplied skilled workers that have installed a camp phone system that has more than 300 lines. There is also a special fire signal system.

Today as you read this, tonight as you slumber, there are men miles away from Post Headquarters in the camp tending the pumps that provide the water for the fire system and for all the camps needs as well as men manning the filtration plant and the sewage disposal plants which this well-equipped city in the wilderness boasts. Just briefly, some of the city's equipment includes 28 miles of railroad line all within the camp boundary; 26 miles of paved road; acres of timber that members of the Negro contingent at the camp are busy logging while others are constructing more miles of corduroy road for the logs to be hauled over to the camp's voracious saw mill where they will become lumber for the repair of the buildings or for new ones, two steam locomotives, two big fire engines; a machine shop; mattress factory; steel cot factory; wood-working shop; slaughter house; canning factory; clothes factory; sheet metal shop; dairy farm; poultry farm, and a complete automotive garage and a complete farm garage.

"We can build everything we can use right here," laughs Mr. Murphy, and we can see that he is challenging us to doubt his opening assertion about putting every man to work at his own job. "On our farms we have 1,000 acres left to us by the dry prisoners already under cultivation, and there will be almost that many more ready before winter is over. There will be tobacco raised on some of these acres, and that means work for the professional cigarmaker among us.

"There are the vegetable crops, the feed crops for the stock, the flock of sheep, the hogs and all with their infinite variety of processes which call for as many types of jobs. Our sheet metal workers turn out all the stove pipes, ventilator hoods and such things we need; our carpenters build our homes and put together the furniture our wood-turning plants produce, and so it goes. We are fast approaching the nearest point such an organization as this can reach in the way of being self-supporting."

*          *          *

An interesting sidelight on the camp's productivity is contained in the figures for the mattress and steel cot factories. The former can produce mattresses complete every five and a half hours, and there are 200 more steel cots in existence at the end of every camp working day.

One of the newest of the industrial enterprises is the canning factory, which at present is busy turning 53 carloads of cabbages into sauerkraut. This plant works a day and night crew. The kraut not used to stock the camp's own larder will go to the shelves of other camps in the region. Some 400 barrels of kraut are now in storage undergoing the fermenting process.

The cabbages are first cored, a special machine cutting out the hard centers; then they go to the shredding table where each cabbage is cut in half by workers armed with sharp cleaver-like knives. The split cabbage is then fed to a shredding machine which cuts it into the delectable shreds that some day will be kraut. A man at the shredding machine pulls the cabbage away in baskets of 25 pounds each. These baskets are dumped into large barrels each with a capacity of 375 pounds. Men with heavy mauls pound this cabbage continuously and the necessary amount of salt is added. When each barrel is full heavy weights are placed on top to squeeze out the water from the cabbage, and the barrels are stored away to ferment. It takes from seven to 14 weeks, depending upon the temperature, for the cabbage to ferment. It is then sealed in cans ready for shipment. A barrel produces about 90 cans.

The steam for the vacuum packing machines in this plant is provided by a means that is typical of the ingenuity that has been displayed by these transients in every line, an ingenuity that has devised methods for making use of every scrap of the tone of junk and decrepit machines that the army left behind in 1918.

The entire cannery plant is furnished steam by a locomotive on the tracks just outside the building instead of by stationary boilers.

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And now no story of Fort Eustis would be complete without mention of its somewhat varied athletic talents. Just as all trades are represented on its rosters, so, too, are all sports ably fostered and played by camp teams. Boxing is a major pastime of the men, and the camp has developed several promising scrappers in all the weight classes. Intercompany bouts as well as matches with teams from Richmond, Portsmouth and surrounding towns have had vociferous backing.

Basketball, soccer, indoor baseball and other games are drawing many of the men evenings, while a large orchestra in process of formation, dramatic offerings, and a choir attract an equally interested percentage.