They came in waves of millions, immigrants mostly from eastern and southern Europe. But pointedly, they were not so much immigrants as they were refugees. Some were escaping famine and poverty, others sought religious freedom and a better life. All had hearts filled with hope that this island of refuge offered. It was hope, that cherished word, denied in their former homeland but not here, not in America.

Not a few were dazzled by the promise of easy riches. One newly mined citizen ruefully said, “I came here because I heard the streets were paved with gold. I soon found out they they were not even paved and I was supposed to pave them.”

And so they did. They paved streets, established businesses, and built cities. And, in the course of time, they made America.

They were fashioned of stern stuff this first generation. Forged in the slums, ghettos, and shtetls, of early 20th century Europe, forsaking all, gambling all, for a chance---only a chance---to improve their lot in life. Then, hammered by the hardships in their new homeland. Finally, tempered by adversity to emerge a case-hardened breed.

Port of entry for the newcomers was Ellis Island, New York. Here they were herded into holding pens awaiting an examination that would decide their fate.

First, a battery of questions: Have you any money? A little, but I have a relative who will sponsor me or, some, but I signed a contract to work in a steel mill. Do you have a destination? Yes. Are you a polygamist? No. An anarchist? No. Have you ever been in a prison, an almshouse, an institution for the insane? All no.

Next a doctor searched for signs of a disease or a debilitating handicap. If such was found, about two in every hundred, the man and his family were returned to their country of origin. For the rest, they boarded a barge, passed the Stature of Liberty, and finally set foot in the United States of America.

Could it really be? Now they were Americans. Not German-Americans, or Polish- or Italian- or Greek-Americans. Just Americans. Their first task was to learn the language. English was to be spoken at home as much as possible. Many anglicized their names. They changed their native garb that marked them as immigrants. After all, now they were Americans.

Nothing was handed to this toughened lot: no welfare, no labor laws, no safety regulations, no minimum wage, no benefits, no unions. It was a 10-to-12 hour workday, six days a week. If a worker was sick or injured, too bad, no work no pay. They had only their skills, their wits, and a gut-wrenching determination to earn their daily bread- and keep their dreams.

These just-off-the-boat people lived in side-by-side apartment buildings called tenements. Typically, each family had two bedrooms and a kitchen. The kitchen had a wood or coal stove for cooking and heating. During the sweltering months of summer, the fire escape served as another bedroom. Each floor had a “water closet” that served four families. Overcrowded, noisy, and filled with the diverse odors of ethnic cooking as they were, it was as clean as soap and water could make it.

When World War II broke out they and their children were tried once again.

The Japanese were forced into guarded, fenced-off interment camps. They were imprisoned at the start of the war and released four years later when it ended. Their homes and businesses were sold at a fraction of their worth. Germans and Italians were subjected to brutal prejudice. Yet ne'er a riot of revolt or a word of protest. They meekly submitted to outrageous deprivations and humiliating insults. Looking back---they were magnificent.

Despite the maltreatment, these sons of sons lined up to defend their country. The Japanese fought the countrymen of their fathers as did the Germans and the Italians. Their banner was not the Flag of the Rising Sun, or the crooked cross of the swastika, or the emblematic fasces of Italy's Fascist Party. Their loyalty was to the Stars and Stripes. It was under that flag, that Star-Spangled Banner, that they fought and they died.

We shall not see their like again.

Sincerely,

Bob Scroggins

New Milford, PA