And then there’s the young wife, all peaches and cream, on her way to join a husband in Bawstin. She was traveling with a child as pretty as a picture, a curly-haired little girl named Ketzeleh. I mean that was the nickname given her by her grandmother. Her real name was Keyleh. She could run and talk and sing and dance even though she wasn’t three years old. The Prince Albert was full of children, but Ketzeleh was the favorite. Everyone wanted to kiss her, hug her, play with her. Ketzeleh, come here! Ketzeleh, come to me!
Ketzeleh’s mother practically became one of our family. She never left my mother’s side. She told us her whole story and read us the letters her husband had written her. She hadn’t seen him for over three years. He had never seen his own daughter. He dreamed day and night of her, thought only of seeing his Ketzeleh.
At this point in the story Ketzeleh’s mother always broke into tears, my mother wiped her eyes, and I laughed, took Ketzeleh in my arms, and fed her pieces of apple and orange. I put them in her mouth and kissed her tiny warm fingers and she laughed back and stroked me with her little velvet hands.
If only I had had a box of paints! I would have painted Ketzeleh with her silky curls, her pretty blue eyes, and her face of an angel. My friend Mendl laughed at me for spending so much time with a china doll. I swear, that’s what he called her.
Well, we’re almost in America when Ketzeleh goes and gets sick. She …but it gives me the shivers just to think of it. That little girl took part of me with her when she went. I can’t talk about it. I don’t want to tell you what they did with her body. I’ll just tell you about her mother on Ella’s Island.
She didn’t cry. She had the same glassy stare for everyone. She didn’t answer when she was spoken to. It seemed she’d gone out of her mind. Now they’re sending her back. My mother is moving heaven and earth for her. My brother Elye can’t take it any more. He’s had a bellyful of her tears. Pinye must be hiding. You don’t see him anywhere.
Don’t think it’s only us Jews who have a hard time on Ella’s Island. Plenty of Christians do too. There was a gang of Italians with us on the Prince Albert, all wearing corduroy pants and wooden shoes. They sounded like a herd of horses when they walked. They were fine fellows, all of them, and crazy about us. They even had their own name for me. Piccolo Bambino, they called me and gave me nuts and raisins from their pockets. You bet I didn’t mind. I couldn’t talk to them because they knew as much Jewish as I know Italian, but I liked listening to them talk to each other. They hit their “r”s real hard. Buona serrrra! Mia carrrra! Prrrrego, signore!
Well, as luck would have it, one of them blurted out something dumb during the questioning. He told the truth, which was that they were coming to work for a bridge contractor who had signed them up in London. In America, it seems, that’s not allowed. Now they’re being sent back to Italy. They go around talking with their hands and buzzing their “r”s: Santa Marrrria! It doesn’t do any good. We all feel sorry for them. They have tears in their own eyes, too.
Mazel tov! There’s a wedding on Ella’s Island. Who’s the lucky couple? Wait and I’ll tell you.
The bride is from Chudnov, an orphan called Leah, a lovely, dark-haired, sweet-tempered girl. She spent the whole voyage with Brokheh and Taybl. The three of them were always together. They told me she was traveling by herself and didn’t know a soul in America. She had worked from childhood on, managed to save some money, and decided to emigrate. Chudnov was not for her. Her father was killed in a pogrom and her mother died of sorrow, leaving her on her own. But she could sew and stitch and knit and iron — she had golden hands, my mother said. Everyone felt sure she would do well in America. They were sure she would find a husband there, too. The best! Leah blushed and lowered her eyes when they talked about that.
Leah’s problem was that she had no one in America to vouch for her. And a husband was available on the Prince Albert. His name was Leyzer Bach and he was a carpenter on his way to an uncle in Chicago. Leyzer was a big, clumsy fellow with blond hair and thick lips, but I liked him because of his songs. He has a beautiful voice. And since he had an uncle to vouch for him, it was decided that he should marry Leah. Need I add that the suggestion came from my friend, the old sea hand?
That’s what they did. When questioned at immigration, Leyzer said he was Leah’s husband and Leah said she was Leyzer’s wife. You would think that would do it, wouldn’t you? But they’re on to such games at Ella’s Island. A husband and wife need a marriage certificate. Leah cried her heart out. “Don’t be silly,” she was told. “You’ll get a divorce in New York and be the same Leah you always were.”
But what if Leyzer didn’t agree to divorce her? And on the other hand, was being sent back any better? In short, the two had a wedding. A sad one, without any music. But it did have a real rabbi and real tears. Lots of them. A whole ocean.
Only one person is satisfied. Would you like to guess who it is? It’s the tailor from Heysen. He’s had his revenge. Now everyone knows he knows best. Each time he walks past us, he strokes his beard and looks at Pinye through his snazzy glasses. But Pinye keeps cool. He sticks his long nose in a book and ignores him. Pinye doesn’t give a damn.
Between our own and other people’s troubles, it’s hard to get excited about being in America. All we’ve seen and heard on Ella’s Island has worn us out. Now we stand staring at the big noisy city in the distance.
Would you like to know what we’re like? A flock of sheep huddled in a field by some railroad tracks and staring at the trains that rush by and vanish! I could kick myself for not having a pencil and paper to draw us and the rest of Ella’s Island. Some people sit on their bundles, moaning and groaning. Others keep their sorrows to themselves. Or else cry buckets. Whole oceans of tears.
ON SOLID GROUND
If you’ve never been at sea for ten days and locked up on Ella’s Island with every conceivable human misery, you don’t know what it’s like to be on solid ground again.
It felt so good that I could have done three somersaults if not for my brother Elye. But even a mope like Elye looked reborn. “I can’t believe we’re in America!” he declared, rubbing his hands. “Praise be,” my mother said with a look at the sky. She let out a sigh. “The living have lived to see the day. The dead are with the dead.”
She was thinking of my father. There’s no place or time she forgets.
Pinye is delirious. I hate to say it, but he’s gone clean off his rocker. He stood facing the ocean, raised his right hand in a fist, and delivered a speech:
“Now hear this, all you bums, jackasses, drunkards, hooligans, and Jew-hating bastards! We want to thank you for having arrived in this freest, happiest of lands! Without your persecutions and pogroms we would never have heard of Columbus or Columbus of us! You’ll have a long wait before you see us again! You’ll see the back of your own ears first! One day you’ll realize there was a people called the Jews whom you didn’t know how to appreciate! You’ll come to a bad end like Spain when it expelled us! You’ll howl like homeless dogs! You’ll long for us! You’ll offer to pay gold for each Jew, you’ll beg us to come back! Like hell we will, do you hear me?”
Who knows how long Pinye might have kept it up if Yoyneh the bagel maker hadn’t laid a hand on his shoulder and said: