Two songs, two types of male drifters

Two famous old songs seem to capture the dichotomous spirit of the male drifter even if they don’t trouble to explain why drifters are almost invariably men. The psychology of the high-spirited, live for the moment and live it up drifter is captured by the Roger Miller tune, King of the Road.

“Trailer for sale or rent/rooms to let . . . fifty cents [Now does that ever date it!]/No phone, no pool, no pets/I ain’t got no cigarettes/Ah, but . . . two hours of pushin’ broom/Buys an eight by twelve four-bit room/I’m a man of means by no means/King of the road.” The narrator lives a traveling life of adventure: “Third boxcar, midnight train/Destination . . . Bangor, Maine.”

The hero of Roger Miller’s song appears to be what has long been known as a hobo. They are almost always men because one needs to be unburdened by pregnancy to light-heartedly take to the road. It also helps to have little fear of sexual assault.

The King of the Road is happy to accept charity and not above stealing as he brags that he knows “every handout in every town/And every lock that ain’t locked/When no one’s around.”

The reckless hero of the song steals. Men like the one described in Miller’s song often impregnate women without taking responsibility for the consequences and frequently without even knowing they have sired young. Their children, whether abandoned or unknown, may grow up impoverished and neglected. That the jaunty narrator enjoys life does not make him harmless. But he is also not pitiable.

The drifter of Buck Owens’ Streets of Bakersfield is. The song is mournful as it tells the story of a man who has “done a thousand miles of thumbin” and “worn holes in both [his] heels.” Unlike the narrator of King of the Road, the hero of Streets of Bakersfield is not in search of adventure but has fallen through society’s cracks. He has no money, no job, and nowhere to go. Like Miller’s hero, he resorts to crime but, unlike the King, he is ashamed of it: “Spent some time in San Francisco/Spent a night there in the can/They threw this drunk man in my jail cell/Took fifteen dollars from that man/Left him my watch and my old house key/Don’t want folks thinkin’ that I’d steal.”

To see part of the reason men are so much more likely to hit the bottom of homelessness than women, we need to think what the song’s chorus about “walk[ing] the streets of Bakersfield” – or anywhere else – would mean if sung by a woman. The down-and-out woman would be prostituting and would have a better chance to put a roof her head than our beleaguered hero.

85% of the homeless are men. Some in that group may be the sort of homeless-by-choice that Roger Miller’s song glorified. Many others are the sort of sadly lost men Buck Owens’ tune immortalized. Anyone concerned with the special problems of men must make finding ways to help the involuntary drifters a top priority.