Word: boxcarful
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...cold night in 1931, his shabby clothing buttoned tightly about his short, diabetic body, a derelict named Driscoll lay on the floor of a boxcar in Seattle's railroad yards. For days he had hunted work. Weary, he had turned to bread lines, soup kitchens, listened to soap-box orators on corners of the Skidroad.* Deep into his dulled consciousness sank the speakers' catchphrases, their shouts of plenty for everyone, taunts at Big Business, cries that Capitalists were to blame for Derelict Driscoll's wrinkled belly...
...hunched in the drafty boxcar that bitter night Derelict Driscoll thought of railroad tycoons in their private cars, mansions, soft beds. He bundled some oil waste between the car's walls, struck a match. Safely out of the yards, he watched the flames redden the sky. He felt better...
...fire with a $300,000 loss. Seattle's ball park spiraled in smoke. Executives and their underlings opened the morning mail to find printed notes threatening fires. Factory after factory burned. Lumber yards, stacked high with fir and cedar from Washington's forests, became kindling pyres. A boxcar, filled with new Buicks specially built with right-hand drives for shipment to the Orient, became a pile of ashes and twisted steel. Seattle's nominally low 60? per capita fire loss zoomed to $1.40 in four years...
...That year, "incorrigible," "stupid," he quit school. Soon he was touring with a "gel," applauded by a few and egged by many as he hoofed and sang. As his voice grew deeper, his singing grew worse. After being laid off, in Durham. N. C., he fed chickens on a boxcar to get back to Manhattan. During the War he was Sailor Winchell...
Jarnegan. To Hollywood, the "bums' paradise," where there is "a pushover on every corner," comes Jack Jarnegan, a crude and noisy dynamo, full of boxcar bombast. Soon he is a director of cinemasterpieces. He confesses that on his arrival in the loud metropolis he slept in a flop house in company with other tramps; now, on the contrary, he has a fine house where there are eleven bedrooms and a Jane in every one. Richard Bennett plays Jarnegan with guttural roars, hob-nails, stubble-beard and a chest expansion. All this is profane and exciting...