Two Immigrants

Here are the stories of two immigrants; their common theme is the deep desire to get to the land of freedom and opportunity.

My father wanted to go to America. As he made plans, his mother cried bitterly and begged him to stay, even suggesting he join the Russian army, which showed how desperate she was to prevent him from going so far away. But he was determined: at age twenty he left Rudney, Ukraine, for Minsk and then headed north to the German border. Before he could get there he was caught by Russian soldiers. He spent four weeks in jail, then was sent home. About a year later he tried again; this time he visited Rabbi Meyer in Minsk for a blessing, and made for the border. He was successful. He crossed Germany to Hamburg, embarked on the Prince Oskar for the two week sail to Philadelphia. At the immigration desk he was dismayed to learn that Congress had recently passed a law that all immigrants must have $25 in their possession as a requirement before entering the country. Where was he to get $25? Then a kindly gentleman handed him the money, asking no questions and wanting him to sign no papers. It was HIAS in action. The Hebrew Immigrant Aid Society was active all over the world helping new arrivals past regulations and other problems. Dad went with the other immigrants to a railroad station, a tag with his name, destination and his brother's name pinned to his coat. He was given a basket with sandwiches, cake, and fruit, courtesy of the Prince Oskar. After a day and night of travel he arrived in Pittsburgh. He wandered around until a policeman, accustomed to newly arrived immigrants, offered to help. He put Dad on a streetcar and instructed the motorman to drop him at Eighth Avenue in Munhall. The streetcar stopped in the middle of the block as a favor to make it easy to find #510, but Dad didn't know which direction to go. He drew on one of his sayings, "A peasant can get to Moscow with his tongue." He walked into a clothing store, managed to explain his problem, and in a few moments was knocking on the door at #510. He had completed his journey; he was united with his older brother Louis who had preceded him to the States by four years. It was October 1914.

Flora, who has the evening shift caring for Mom, also has a remarkable story of coming to America. She was born in Oaxaca, nearly the most distant city in Mexico south of the border. When she was fifteen, she resolved to go to America. She set up what sounds like an ambulatory cafe: whatever fruits, vegetables, meat and fowl she could buy, she would cook and sell as a street vendor. She worked all day, seven days a week. Using the "layaway" plan she turned her earnings over to a "coyote." After about a year, when she had accumulated $400 and despite pleadings by her mother, she and about twenty others and the "coyote" headed for the Arizona border. On American soil she was loaded on a truck with the other illegals to Gainesville, Florida. The trip was punishing: there was no room to lie down and she had little chance to sleep or even be comfortable. At no time, from the day that she started saving money to the moment she crossed the border, did she have any fears or doubt about what she was doing; it helped that she was a teenager, upbeat and full of energy. In Florida she began day-long work as a "picker"; she picked peanuts, jalapeño peppers, tomatoes, and oranges. The hardest were the oranges: she had to carry a heavy basket, and move the ladder from tree to tree; the worst hazard was the bees that tormented her unmercifully. Next she was taken to Selma, North Carolina, where she "dug potatoes," lugging a sack to fill during the long days' work. When she became pregnant, she delivered in a hospital in Rocky Mount, a small town north of Selma. Medicaid helped with her bill. She went to Washington, D.C. where she obtained papers certifying her as a legal resident. She moved to Houston in 1990 and became a citizen in 1996; she was proud to take the examination in English. Soon after, her parents moved to Houston.

written by Dan