We Are A Nation Of Immigrants, Part II

In the shadow of the Statue of Liberty is Ellis Island.  Ellis Island served as a major immigration processing center in the first half of the 20th century.  If your family emigrated from Europe during that time, chances are they came through Ellis Island.

It’s a museum now, has been for some time.  A group of us visited the museum when it reopened in 1990.  I haven’t been back since then, and I really should go again.  The experience was overwhelming.  I kept hearing my grandmother’s voice in my head.

My grandmother Dora was born in 1902, in a province called Galicia, which is now part of Poland but was then part of Austria-Hungary. She was the eldest of 5 children.  Her father came to New York before World War I, and sent for his family after the war.  Dora, two of her sisters and her brother all came here eventually, but Dora’s mother  never came, she was was afraid.  She walked with a limp, and was scared they’d send her back to Europe.  The youngest sister stayed with their mother.  Both were killed in the Holocaust.

Dora came here with her sister Shirley.  She told me the story many times. They travelled with their aunt and  uncle, and arrived in Rotterdam just before the Jewish holiday of Rosh Hashanah.  There was an argument about whether the girls could buy candy for the holiday, but by the time the uncle gave permission, the stores had all closed.

A sailor took a liking to Dora, and gave her a tin of sardines.  She said “He told me not to eat them when the ship got out onto the big water, but I didn’t listen,”. She blamed those sardines for the horrible seasickness she experienced the entire time the ship was on the Atlantic.

Consequently she was extremely debilitated when she arrived at Ellis Island, and was held at the hospital.  She spoke about how the doctor asked to walk a straight line, to prove she was well.  She also had her first encounter with an African American, he was serving food in the cafeteria. He had to explain to Dora that his skin was naturally dark,  not dirty.  

 My grandmother came here as a young woman, but did not become a citizen until my mother was an adult.  Why?  Because of a mistake at Ellis Island.   Apparently Dora’s uncle gave the wrong name to the immigration officials, and there was no record of Dora entering the country.  Rather, her sister Florence was recorded as as having entered twice, in two different years.

If my grandmother had not made that trip to Ellis Island, I would not be here today.

I don't hear the voices of my other grandparents, because they died before I was born.  but I know their stories...

Dora's husband Harry died when my mother was a little girl, so I don't know much.  He was also from Eastern Europe, not sure exactly where.  Maybe Hungary.  He was ...horrors...an illegal alien.  I was told he sailed from Europe to Canada, walked across the border and made his way to New York City.  He never became a citizen, had to register as an alien during World War II.

My paternal grandparents came from the same small town outside Kiev, in the Ukraine.  My grandfather,  I'm told, was a Socialist and participated in the failed 1905 revolution.  He came to New York in 1907, and sent for my grandmother two years later.  In the 1920's he went to court and legally changed his name, and the names of his children, from something long and Russian to something very, very Jewish.

We cannot forget where we come from, that every family in America can trace its roots to immigrants, people like my grandparents, who came to this country looking for a better life for themselves and their children.