Old World Traits Transplanted
Chapter 3: Immigrant Experiences
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FROM his peasant community, a primary organization such as we have just
described, the immigrant comes to a society in a secondary stage of organization
in America, based on business enterprise and represented by the state. Actually,
the individual, or the family, almost invariably comes to friends and finds some
sort of primary group awaiting him here. If he is a Pole, he settles among
Poles, and so with the other races. But this new community is only a loose
aggregation of acquaintances, not a complete organization, and, moreover, its
members have themselves changed in America. They usually take charge of the
new-comer, perhaps board him, and instruct him in American customs until " the
green has worn off"—" ausgegrünt,"
as the Jews express it.
CHANGE IN ATTITUDES
The first changes in the immigrant are more or less superficial, relating to dress,
( 44) manners, and the other signs which will betray him as a " greenhorn." But deeper changes come rapidly, more rapidly than we appreciate. Document 30 shows their nature. Usually parents complain of the rapid changes in children, but in this case it is the reverse:
30. I have just taken my wife and child off Ellis Island. The child is five years old. Three years ago I left him at home, where he was reared by my wife's pious parents. Now the little fellow is the defender of God and rebukes me.
He, continually questions his mother as to why I eat uncovered, why I do not wash before eating, why I do not make a brochoh [short prayer]. He says to her, "Father is a Gentile."
Upon my question as to why it is prohibited to do the above things he replies that God will punish. He will make me ill and I will be tortured in hell. Grand-father, he says, told him so. I attempted to convince him that his grandfather was joking, but he refuses to believe it. He says that God is listening to our conversation through an angel. Once I asked him to remove his cap, but he only did it because he feared me, and began to cry bitterly and became agitated. In short, he is very far from me. He is afraid of me. He cries and tells his mother that father is a Gentile. He wants no Gentile for a father! .. .
How may the poisoned root of fanaticism be torn out of the child's heart.[1]
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On the other hand, these changes may be very limited and slow, owing to the fact that the immigrant continues to live among his own people and has very few contacts with Americans.
31. Although almost five years have passed since I started for America, it was only now that I caught a glimpse of it. For though I was in America I had lived in practically the same environment which we brought from home. Of course, there was a difference in our joys, in our sorrows, in our hardships, for after all this was a different country; but on the whole we were still in our village in Russia. A child that came to this country and began to go to school had taken the first step into the New World. But the child that was put into the shop remained in the old environment with the old people, held back by the old traditions, held back by illiteracy. Often it was years before he could stir away from it; sometimes it would take a lifetime. Sometimes, too, it happened as in fairy tales, that a hand was held out to you and you were helped out. In my own case it was through the illness which had seemed such a misfortune that I had stirred out of Cherry Street.[2]
32. To the small minority of eager, aggressive idealists, whose restless spirits soon break through the barriers of inherited customs and respond with avidity to the challenges of a higher civilization . . . the word "America" soon takes the form of "opportunity," and is understood in terms of incentive and room for soul expansion. The loose composition of a population of many and mutually exclusive nation-
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-alities, the grotesque manners, and the multitude of saloons and other haunts of vice and crime in the "lower regions" of American cities, where the foreign colonies are generally located, soon tend to awaken in the mind of that foreigner who finds himself yearning for a better order of things, the significant question, "Where is America?" [3]
33. Finally father, choosing his words carefully with difficulty, said to Doctor McFarland: "Sir, do you know you are the first American gentlemen who has spoken to me in America?" It was true. In all the years of his life in America, father, the scholar, the dreamer, had never really met a real American.. He had met people who spoke English, the language of America. They were the bums in our narrow streets, the crooked politicians in our ward. There was not one man whom father knew as an American who was a gentleman.[4]
Nearly all immigrants have idealized America. They have usually had glowing pictures of it, and are disillusioned by the conditions they find here.
34. All the time I hear about the grand city of New York. They say it is something to surprise everyone. I learn New York is twice, three, four, ten times bigger than Italian city. Maybe it is better than Milano. Maybe it is better than Naples.
"The land of the free and the home of the brave" —I am young and I think that is beautiful land. I hear such fine words like "liberty," "democracy," "equality," "fraternity," and I like this high prin-
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-ciples. The people say it is the country where you are your own boss, where you may receive money on your word, where there is trust and confidence, so that America look like a blessed country, and I think I am going to great city, to grand country, to better world, and my heart develop big admiration and a great, noble sentiment for America and the American.
I arrive in New York. You think I find here my idea? ...[5]
LOSS OF STATUS
But the most serious condition results from the loss of status and the consequent diminished sense of personality when the immigrant encounters American conditions. He brings with him certain habits, customs, and traditions, including language, dress, social ritual, sentimental ideals and interests, and a sense of moral worth, and it was in connection with these that he had status at home (the recognition of his group) and a sense of personality (recognition of his role in the group). He brings with him, in fact, (1) a self-consciousness, which is consciousness of his status in his group; (2) a group consciousness, which is consciousness of the status of his group among other groups; and (3) a national consciousness which is
( 48) consciousness of the status of his national group among other nations. His feeling of personality is dependent on this 'whole complex of ideas.
When the immigrant comes to America, not only must he leave behind the community which was the basis of his personality and self-respect, but here the very signs of his personality (dress, language, and so forth), which in his own country were the signs of his self-respect, are regarded with contempt and made the occasions of his humiliation. In Europe, the question of personality was not the subject of much reflection, because everything was habitual, but here the realization of incongruities between himself and American life makes the question of personality acute:
35. [He had long wondered why he was always re-fused work.]—At last a butcher in the upper eighties gave me the answer with pungent frankness. . He looked me over from head to foot, and then, with a contemptuous glance at my shabby foreign shoes (the alien's shoes are his Judas), he asked me whether I supposed he wanted a greenhorn in his store. I pondered that query for a long time.[6]
36. [At the University of Missouri] In the first two months I had and lost a half-dozen roommates. Do what I might, I could not make them stay with me. There were never any hard words; we always parted
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as "good friends." But almost from the first day they would hardly talk to me, and before the week was out they would find some excuse for moving or asking me to move. I spent many sleepless nights in trying to figure out the thing. [At this time no one knew that he was a Jew.] [7]
37. When I was twenty-five years old I sailed [from Austrian Poland] for America, with nine suits of clothes and about 8200. My first job in this country was in a factory where they painted ribbons for typewriters. The factory was not far from the South Station in Boston. I worked ten hours a day for $4 a week. My ten suits were soon spoiled, for I was ashamed to wear overalls, and one after another my suits were ruined at work. Finally the only suit I had left was a Prince Albert affair. I went to work in that. I remember passing a line of fellow workers leaning against the building, smoking their pipes. When they saw me coming in my Prince Albert, they took their pipes out of their mouths and bowed low to me, saying, "Me lord," as I passed.[8]
38. I found that father was already at home. As I came into the room I saw him resting against the wall, 'clipping his beard. I was so surprised and shocked to see him actually do this thing that I could neither speak nor move for some minutes. And I knew that he, too, felt embarrassed. After the first glance I kept my eyes steadily on the floor in front of me, and began to talk to him quietly, but with great earnestness: "You had been so pious at home, father," I said, "more pious than anyone else in our whole neighborhood. And now you are cutting your beard. Grandmother would never have believed
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it. How she would weep!" The snipping of the scissors still went on. But I knew by the, sound that now he was only making a pretense at cutting. At last he laid it down and said in a tone that was bitter yet quiet: "They do not like Jews on Cherry Street. And one with a long beard has to take his life into his own hands." [9]
39. In the shop . . . the only inequality I had ever felt was that of age . . . while as a servant my home was a few hard chairs and two soiled quilts. My every hour was sold day and night. I had to be constantly in the presence of people who looked down upon me as an inferior. I felt, though in a child's way, that being constantly with people who looked upon me as inferior, I was, or soon would be an inferior.[10]
40. One day a well-dressed strange young man came in. He made sure of our name at the door and then came and sat down at the window, opened a little book and began to question me about my family, my father's name, his trade, how long he had been out of work, how much he had earned, how long mother had been ill, and so on. . . . "Do you need anything?" he asked. . . . "Do we need anything?" It seemed such a strange question and I did not answer, and he repeated the question in Yiddish. I finally did understand and I heard myself say, "No." Still thinking that I did not understand, he asked "Do you need any clothes?" I shook my head. "Do you need any shoes?" He looked at mine. "No." "Have you everything?" "Everything," I repeated, but I could not look at him. . . . In the evening when father was home our neighbor
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brought in four dollars. "A strange young man left it," she said, and the next day there was a half ton of coal.[11]
41. The first family where I worked knew perfectly well that I spoke French and German. I heard them mention the fact to a guest at the table—but to them I was not any more interesting an object than any peasant girl who could neither read nor write. They might have known that I must have had some sort of education, for the average immigrant girl does not speak many languages. Our relations were entirely impersonal. I found out how foreigners are regarded by the old-line Americans, and I cannot say that it made me feel any more friendly toward America. I was still of the Old World, and who can blame me? [12]
42. There is much Italian talent which Americans do not recognize as yet. The best workers at Tiffany's are Italians. The best designers among garment workers are Italians. I do not understand why Italians have been treated in this country as they have been. I go to a store, and they say to me, "Are you French?" I say, "No." They say, "Spanish?" "No, I am Italian." And then there is immediate coldness and contempt .[13]
43. More than to any other of their heritages, the Italian immigrants hold to their music. When they are in their homes or the homes of their friends they sing their folk songs, but they are ashamed to sing this music when they are in gatherings of Americans.
.. The reason the young people buy ragtime
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music is that they do not want to be different from their American friends. When they visit' their friends in American homes they find that ragtime music is the music that is played, and they don't want to be humiliated by being different from their American friends. Therefore they buy the same records that their class of Americans do.[14]
In document 44, below, we have a different case of anxiety about status. The family belongs to the type called by the Jews "allrightnick" (mentioned in Chapter V); it has penetrated the American environment probably as far as the Bronx, and the writer's anxiety concerns her status in the new situation:
44. I have a nice home, fine clothes, a good husband, and yet all this cannot satisfy me. The reason is that I am uneducated; also my husband, who is even more ignorant than myself. He cannot even write Jewish nor speak properly to anybody. You may, then, picture my anguish!
We live in a very rich neighborhood, among wealthy, intelligent people. I can keep up with their styles, clothes, and furniture, but not with the English language. My misfortune is still greater because I am a good judge of myself. When my husband 'or I say something that is not expressed properly, I immediately recognize the error and I imagine every-body smiling. And my pain is still more acute over the fact that we came here as children. My husband was nine years old and I eleven. But very unfortu-
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-nately there was no law against child labor at that time. Just imagine a nine or eleven year old child working to-day !
I received a little education in Europe up to my tenth year. I know a little of German, Polish, Russian, and—as you see—Jewish. I can also read an English book and write also—though I am spelling defectively. But what troubles me most is speaking. Am somewhat familiar with the street English, but unable to converse with an intelligent person. My husband does not even know that much. He is a very able business man and no more. Owing to his ignorance I have neglected what I did know, for I did not wish to be superior to him. My desire had always been to marry an educated man and learn from him.
Perhaps you can show us a way to educate our-selves. Some may regard this as folly and remark that I am too comfortable and do not know what I want. My husband is unconcerned, but I am dejected and feel inferior even to the one I am superior to. I must add that we have been married twelve years, have three children. But I am so young—only twenty-nine! [15]
The subject of document 45 had a superior standing at home; he was a learned man, and the first experience here is bitter. Obliged to live scantily in New York, he went to a five-cent lodging house kept by one of his countrymen in the Syrian colony. Later, advised by his friends, he takes up peddling.
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45. As I lay awake under Moses's roof that night I thought of all the good things I had ever enjoyed in my life, of all the poetry I had learned, of the pride with which my breast had heaved as a "learned man" among my kindred. Now I was in the New World, which did not seem to take immediate notice of my worth, tucked in a dingy corner, nay, crucified between two thieves [fellow lodgers)! . . . Call it pride, vanity, or whatever you please, whenever I thought of peddling "jewelry and notions," death lost its terror for me. The mere sight of those crude, greasy peddlers nauseated me. Come what might, I would not carry the keshah [a colloquial Arabic name for the peddler's pack] .[16]
Rihbany (document 45) was a man of action and adapted himself rapidly and completely to American conditions. But certainly the most difficult and painful situation is that of the superior person who is inclined by temperament and training to analyze his emotions and rationalize his situation in America. Document 46 indicates the degree of nervous shock possible in such cases:
46. The first period was characterized by a loss in emotional life. There was: (1) a fading of emotional tones [Gefühlsbetonung] and a gradual reappearance. I forgot for some years that birds sing, flowers have odor, stars shine. I lost interest in theater, concert, fiction; (2) a replacement of emotional
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standards by opportunistic notions. I did not think of what I liked or disliked, but of what was advantageous or disadvantageous. There was a decided shifting from emotional to rational motives. I found it very difficult to adopt a new code of conduct because of an entirely foreign emotional basis... .
After some years of life in America a reconstruction of my emotional life took place. I was building up another emotional basis. Some of the means to it were: (1) a groping for new interest (literature, bibliography, history, world politics, science) ; (2) participation in public interests and activities (Vereinigung alter Deutscher Studenten in Amerika, Bibliographical Society, Rifle Club, Military Work) ; (3) new social contacts (clubs, society); (4) my family interests.
The transition period caused by my emigration lasted nearly twenty years and was retarded by the Great War. A return to normal emotional life showed itself by the absence of dreams in which I saw myself back at home again. Such dreams were extremely frequent at first. Now all my plans and hopes centered in America and the desire for a permanent return to Europe ceased. Also the fear of isolation in America ceased and a sentiment of coherence with the new country and identification developed and has probably completely established itself....
A very serious handicap in my new life in America was the loss of confidence in my judgment which the shifting from one emotional standard to another one caused. Whenever we must decide quickly we judge subconsciously. The subconscious life was destroyed and badly disorganized. I never knew if my reactions would be in line with the new code of conduct
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and had to think and reflect. Whenever I decided on the spur of the moment I found myself out of sympathy with my environment. I did not feel as they felt and therefore I felt wrongly according to their standards. To act instinctively in an American fashion and manner was impossible, and I appeared slow and clumsy. The proverbial slowness of foreigners is largely due to this cause.[17]
Document 47 is typical of the experience of the unsophisticated immigrant who loses in America that security assured to him at home as a member of an organization. Taken in connection with the foregoing experience, it indicates the motive for the spontaneous formation of the immigrant organizations—mutual aid, nationalistic, and so forth—in America, which we shall notice later.
47. I have been five years in America. For four years I lived in Cleveland and now I am in Chicago. When I came to Chicago I did not have anybody. I got off the train, took my wife and three children, and we walked about the city until we came to the Jewish neighborhood. We stopped on a corner and were talking it over. We decided to look for rooms in order to have a home where we could lay our heads down. We found three rooms for $7 a month. Then I left my wife and children in the vacant rooms and I went to buy some furniture, and I was told to go to a certain store. I went in there and I was treated cordially. I told them I want some furniture
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only of the cheap kind, because I am still green here and they should not overcharge me. So they said: "We have only one price, and cheaper than any-where." So I believed them and I took, like a poor man, not what was necessary, only what we had to have. The prices they quoted were really not very dear and they told me to come back on Saturday for my bill. In the meantime they took a deposit from me, $50, and I was to pay $2 a week. Then I came home and ate and I went to look for a job and I found one at $9 a week. I was very pleased with Chicago. The next morning I went to work. I had left $4.75..
When I came home after my first day's work I found my home fixed up with the furniture that they had sent up. We had our supper with great happiness. Sabbath (Saturday) came and I went up for my bill and handed them $2, the first payment. They entered it in their books and they gave me a book. When I looked in the book, my eyes became dark! The bill amounted to $285.98! For half an hour I could not speak and when I came to myself and I asked them, "What is that?" they said, "We told you the prices before." The prices were entered correctly but with a "slight" difference.. For in-stance: The bed does cost $15, and they entered $15 but they had added springs, $10, and a mat-tress, $10. A stove is $28, as in my book, but a mantel for the stove $15 more. And so on for everything. But I saw that it was over and I went home. To my wife I did not disclose the real bill. She would not shout at me, but I did not want her to be vexed over it. I used to pay $2 every week and was considered a fine man in the store. And so I paid a whole year and never missed a week. Fifteen weeks ago I lost my job and I could not get
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another one so quickly. And I disliked the work, too, so I wanted to learn a good trade, and I saw an advertisement in the newspaper that they are teaching a good trade, and they are furnishing a steady place, and it takes two weeks. I went up there and they told me that they give a place and it takes two weeks, only it costs $50 for the course and the payment is in advance. If I had seen that I was dealing with Schnorrers I would have gone away. But here I saw an office with twenty bookkeepers, with a whole business, so I went home and talked it over with my wife and we decided that I should go and learn the trade. But I did not have no $50, so, as we still had some pieces of jewelry that we had brought from Cleveland, we pawned them and gave them $50, and the next day I went to work there.
When I went into the shop everybody began to laugh at me. But I did not pay any attention to them. When I spoke to the foreman, the instructors, I saw that it does not take two weeks, but two years, and that they do not give any place, and that one must know good English. I realized that I fell in with $50! I came home half dead and half alive, and I could not eat any supper that night. The next morning I went up there and I told them that this work is not for me, that I am green yet for this kind of work, and I wanted them to deduct $10 for the day and to refund me $40. So they began to send me from one to the other. The one to whom I gave the money wasn't there any more. In his place there was already another. I stood there, talked and cried it did not help me and I went home.
The next day I went up there again and they told me the same as yesterday. I began to go there every day and I began to shout, so they called a policeman
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and wanted to arrest me. I went to a lawyer and he wanted $15 beforehand, win or lose. I did not have even fifteen cents. I went to the Jewish Protective Association and told them my story. They told me that they can do nothing for me because I am not entitled to get my money back. So it means that I have lost $50! If I had lost it I would not have been so sorry; maybe another poor man would have found it. But here I see how they are running out in their automobiles, going to the best hotels, to the largest theaters for my hard-earned $50.
But that is not all. Listen further. Now it is already fifteen weeks that I am not working. In our city there is a big crisis. Sometimes I strike a job and I make $4 or $5 a week. From these earnings I cannot take $2 a week to pay for the furniture. So I went to them and I asked them to wait. They promised me. But when I went away to-day to look for a job and when I returned I found something that shocked me so that I nearly lost my mind. The house was vacant; they had taken away everything from my house; my wife was lying on the floor, her hair disheveled; two men were holding her and two men were taking everything out. Now it is winter and we are without a stove and without anything.
Again I went to the Jewish Protective Association and they say that the furniture dealer is lawfully right.
To find work in Chicago now is impossible. I haven't even a penny. Naked and
shoeless, of what good is my life in this world? So I decided to end my life,
but before I do that I want to avenge myself on the two murderers. But I am
asking you, publish this letter, let the people know the life of the poor, what
the rich do with their hard-earned money! [18]
