E.
Do you think only Jews have problems on Ellis Island? Gentiles also have their troubles. A large group of Italians have been traveling with us, all wearing velvet pants and wooden shoes. When they walk, they clop like horses. They’re fine Gentiles, excellent people. They’re crazy about me. They call me a strange name, piccolo bambino. They give me nuts and raisins from their velvet pants pockets, and I rather like that. I can’t speak with them because they don’t understand my language and I don’t understand theirs, but I love to hear them talk among themselves. Their r’s come out hard: “Buona serrra!” “Mio carrro!” “Prrrego signorrra!”
Then a terrible thing happened to them. When they were being examined, one of them innocently let slip that a contractor in London had hired them to work on a bridge in America. That’s not legal. So they’re going to be sent back. They speak all at once, gesticulate wildly, and roll their r’s: “Sacrrramento!” But nothing helps. They are greatly to be pitied. Several of them have tears in their eyes.
F.
Mazel tov! We have a wedding on Ellis Island! How did this happen? Listen. An orphan girl from Chudnov named Leah, dark-haired, charming, and friendly, became very close to our three women during the journey. They became one soul. Our women learned she was alone and had no one in America. For many years she had worked hard, saved some money, and was going to America. She couldn’t live in Chudnov anymore. They had killed her father in a pogrom, and her mother had died of grief. She was left on her own. Good people took care of her and taught her a trade — she could sew, knit, iron, and embroider. “Golden hands,” my mother said of her. Everyone is sure that in America she’ll be given all the work she needs, and she’ll find a good husband. Leah lowers her eyes and blushes. The problem is that she has no one in America to receive her.
But there’s a bachelor on the Prince Albert, Lazer Bach. He’s a carpenter and is going to his uncle in Chicago. Lazer is a rough-looking redhead with very thick lips, but I like him for his songs. He sings Yiddish songs beautifully. So it was decided: since Lazer had someone to receive him and Leah had no one, Lazer Bach would say Leah was his fiancée. Of course this ruse was thought up by none other than our old sea dog. And here’s what happened. At the examination they appeared together as bride-to-be and groom-to-be. Sounds good? It turns out that on Ellis Island it doesn’t work that way. If you are engaged, you must have a wedding there before they’ll let you leave. Leah wept. We consoled her: “What do you care, little silly? You’ll get to the city, and he’ll give you a divorce, and you’ll be the same Leah as before.” “But what if he won’t?” the fearful Leah asks. We reply, “Is being sent back better?”
In short, we have a wedding, a sad wedding without klezmer, but with an assistant rabbi and many tears, no end of tears, a sea of tears.
G.
Only one person is happy. Can you guess who? It’s the Heissen tailor. He’s lived to triumph over our friend Pinni. Who can compare with the Heissen tailor? He sees nothing but welcoming parades in front of us, strokes his beard, and peers at Pinni through his shiny eyeglasses. But Pinni is cleverer than he. He sticks the point of his nose into a book, pretending not to see the tailor. He couldn’t care less!
H.
Our own troubles, and other people’s troubles, put a damper on our joy at finally being in America. We’ve seen and heard so much sadness here on Ellis Island that we’re exhausted. We gather our family close together and stare at the vast, busy city that stands in the distance. Do you know what we look like? We look like a flock of sheep on a hot summer’s day, huddled together in a field near the railway tracks, looking bewildered as a train noisily rushes by and vanishes. Too bad I don’t have a pencil and a sheet of paper to draw our huddled family and all the other confined emigrants on Ellis Island, each sitting on his bundle. Some sigh and tell one another what is in their bitter hearts. Others remain silent, and still others weep, bathed in tears, in a sea of tears.
V
WITH BOTH FEET ON THE GROUND
A.
If you’ve never sailed on the ocean, never spent ten days and ten nights on the water, never been confined on Ellis Island; if you’ve never witnessed or listened to your fill of troubles, sorrows, and pain, never bathed in a sea of tears, nor awaited those who are supposed to deliver you — then you can’t feel the joy of finally standing with both feet on the ground. If I weren’t afraid of my brother Elyahu, or embarrassed to be seen by others, I’d fall to the ground and then somersault three times. That’s how good it feels to be standing with both feet on solid ground. You can understand why even a pessimistic man like my brother Elyahu wears a new expression on his face. He rubs his hands together and says to us all, “Are we really in America?”
“With the help of the One Above, praised be His name!” My mother looks up to the sky. Then she adds with a deep sigh, “The living have made it here, but the one who lies in the earth has not.”
By this she means my father. Nowhere and never does she forget my father for as much as a moment.
B.
More enthusiastic than anyone is our friend Pinni. I hesitate to say it, but he’s going crazy. He plants himself with his face toward the ocean, raises his right hand in a fist, and proclaims:
“Listen, you asses, brutes, drunks, hooligans, and pogromchiks! We have you to thank for our being here in this free, fortunate land! If not for you and your persecution, cruel laws, and pogroms, we wouldn’t know about Columbus and Columbus wouldn’t know about us! You will wait a long time before we come back to you! Just as you never can see your own ears, you will never see us in your lives! One day you will look around and realize you had the people of Israel with you and didn’t know how to appreciate them! You will have a miserable end, just like old Spain. You will whine like dogs. One day you will miss us! There will not remain so much as a single Jew. You’ll call us back, but that’ll be the day!”
Who knows how long Pinni would carry on if Yoneh the baker didn’t lay a hand on his back and say, “Pinni! God be with you! To whom are you speaking? To the stones? Come! We’ll be late for the ferry! Or would you rather spend another night on Ellis Island?”
We gather our bundles and make our way to the ferry.
C.
But this is only a matter of speaking. We’re not allowed on so quickly. You forget, we’re carrying an extra burden on our hands — my friend Mendl. They’re not letting him out, but without him we won’t move. My mother says she won’t be able to rest in America if, God forbid, they send the orphan back, who knows where. Luckily we are to meet with a group of people called the Assembly of Guests that has a representative on Ellis Island, a fine man, very dedicated. It is to this man that we are directed. We tell him the truth about the boy. Of course we all speak at once.