Aliens or Americans?. Howard B. Grose
19,467
The Floating Gateway
The proportion for New York is not far from eight tenths of the whole. Hence it is true, that while the "dirty little ferryboat John G. Carlisle is not an imposing object to the material eye, to the eye of the imagination she is a spectacle to inspire awe, for she is the floating gateway of the Republic. Over her dingy decks march in endless succession the eager battalions of Europe's peaceful invaders of the West. That single craft, in her hourly trips from Ellis Island to the Battery,[13] carries more immigrants in a year than came over in all the fleets of the nations in the two centuries after John Smith landed at Jamestown."[14]
Human Storage Reservoirs
Reading about the arrivals at Ellis Island, no matter how realistic the description, will not give a vivid idea of what immigration means nor of what sort the immigrants are. For that, you must obtain a permit from the authorities and actually see for yourself the human stream that pours from the steerage of the mighty steamships into the huge human storage reservoirs of Ellis Island.[15] We know that however perfect the system, human nature has to be taken into account, both in officials and immigrants, and human nature is imperfect; much of it at Ellis Island is exceedingly difficult to deal patiently with. Hence, from the very nature of things and men, the situation is one to develop pathos, humor, comedy, and tragedy, as the great "human sifting machine" works away at separating the wheat from the chaff. The tragedy comes in the case of the excluded, since the blow falls sometimes between parents and children, husband and wife, lover and sweetheart, and the decree of exclusion is as bitter as death.
Make Yourself an Imaginary Immigrant
To make the manner and method of getting into America by the steerage process as real as possible, try to put yourself in an alien's place, and see what you would have to go through. Do not take immigration at its worst, but rather at its best, or at least above the average conditions. Assume that you belong to the more intelligent and desirable class, finding a legitimate reason for leaving your home in Europe, because of hard conditions and poor outlook there and bright visions of fortune in the land of liberty, whither relatives have preceded you. Your steamship ticket is bought in your native town, and you have no care concerning fare or baggage. A number of people of your race and neighborhood are on the way, so that you are not alone.
The Ship's Manifest
Before embarking you are made to answer a long list of questions, filling out your "manifest," or official record which the law requires the vessel-masters to obtain, attest, and deliver to the government officers at the entrance port.[16]
Numbered and Lettered
Your answers proving satisfactory to the transportation agents, a card is furnished you, containing your name, the letter of the group of thirty to which you are assigned, and your group number. Thus you become, for the time being, No. 27 of group E. You are cautioned to keep this card in sight, as a ready means of identification.
The Voyage
Partings over, you enter upon the strange and unforgetable experiences of ten days or more in the necessarily cramped quarters of the steerage—experiences of a kind that do not invite repetition. Homesickness and seasickness form a trying combination, to say nothing of the discomforts of a mixed company and enforced companionship.
First Experiences in the New World
Your first American experience befalls you when the steamship anchors at quarantine inside Sandy Hook, and the United States inspection officers come on board to hunt for infectious or contagious diseases—cholera, smallpox, typhus fever, yellow fever, or plague. No outbreak of any of these has marked the voyage, fortunately for you, and there is no long delay. Slowly the great vessel pushes its way up the harbor and the North River, passing the statue of Liberty Enlightening the World, that beacon which all incomers are enjoined to see as the symbol of the new liberty they hope to enjoy.
Ship Landing
At last the voyage is done, your steamship lies at her pier, and you are thrust into the midst of distractions. Families are trying to keep together; the din is indescribable; crying babies add to the general confusion of tongues; all sorts of people with all sorts of baggage are making ready for the landing, which seems a long time off as you wait for the customs officers to get through with the first-class passengers. At last word is given to go ashore, and the procession or pushing movement rather begins. You are hurried along, up a companionway, lugging your hand baggage; then down the long gangway on to the pier and the soil of America.
Unnecessary Cruelty
It is not a pleasant landing in the land of light and liberty. You have been sworn at, pushed, punched with a stick for not moving faster when you could not, and have seen others treated much more roughly. Just in front of you a poor woman is trying to get up the companionway with a child in one arm, a deck chair on the other, and a large bundle besides. She blocks the passage for an instant. A great burly steward reaches up, drags her down, tears the chair off her arm, splitting her sleeve and scraping the skin off her wrist as he does so, and then in his rage breaks the chair to pieces, while the woman passes on sobbing, not daring to remonstrate.[17] This is not the first treatment of this sort you have seen, and you feel powerless to help, though your blood boils at the outrage.
Unpleasant Beginnings
As you pass down the gangway your number is taken by an officer with a mechanical checker, and then you become part of the curious crowd gathered in the great somber building, filled with freight, much of it human. Here there is confusion worse confounded, as separated groups try to get together and dock watchmen try to keep them in place. Many believe their baggage has been stolen, and mothers are sure their children have been kidnaped or lost. The dockmen are violent, not hesitating to use their sticks, and you find yourself more than once in danger, although you strive to obey orders you do not understand very well, since they are shouted out in savage manner. The inspector reaches you finally, and you are hustled along in a throng to the barge that is waiting. You are tired and hungry, having had no food since early breakfast. Your dreams of America seem far from reality just now. You are almost too weary to care what next.
America's Gateway
The next is Ellis Island, whose great building looks inviting. Out of the barge you are swept with the crowd, baggage in hand or on head or shoulder, and on to the grand entrance. As you ascend the broad stairs, an officer familiar with many languages is shouting out, first in one tongue and then another, "Get your health tickets ready." You notice that the only available place many have in which to carry these tickets is in their mouths, since their hands are full of children or baggage.
(A) Entrance stairs; (B) Examination of health ticket; (C) Surgeon's examination; (D) Second surgeon's examination; (E) Group compartments; (F) Waiting for inspection; (G) Passage to the stairway; (H) Detention room; (I) The Inspectors' desks; (K) Outward passage to barge, ferry, or detention room.
Medical Inspection
At