Elias didn’t answer, and Rebekah had to hurry to keep up with his long strides. “Papa,” she began again. “I can take classes at the center. Mr. Lemann … he said I could enroll.”
“Rebekah,” Elias interrupted, “we will not talk of this now.”
“All right, Papa,” Rebekah said quietly, “but I want you to know that I will not give up my dream, no matter how hard it is to reach it.”
“Rebekah,” Elias warned, and during the rest of the walk they were silent.
In the morning at the kitchen table Rebekah tried to talk to both her parents. “Papa … Mama,” she began.
But Elias said firmly, “Not now, Rebekah,” and gave a quick nod toward Nessin, who drooped with misery.
Why can’t we talk? We must discuss Nessin, the gangs, the center, my studies, all of it, Rebekah thought with frustration, but neither of her parents spoke of what had happened the night before.
While the Levinskys were still eating breakfast, Avir came to report that he’d heard in the street that the Italian boy had lived and would soon recover.
“News spreads by neighbors faster than by newspaper,” he said, jovial at being the bearer of good news. But his manner changed and he spoke sternly to Nessin. “Come to me if you have nothing better to do with your time than run with street gangs. There is always plenty of work that needs to be done.”
“Nessin will be kept busy and out of trouble from now on, believe me,” Elias answered.
But Nessin didn’t look very happy, and Rebekah’s face burned as she thought how happy she would be if she were the one sent to study at night.
Uncle Avir looked as though he had more to say. Whatever it was, Rebekah didn’t want to hear it. She hurried to the front room, folding her brothers’ quilts and readying the room for work. Through the open windows she thought she heard the gentle trill of a flute, but she kept working. She stopped and listened, then ran to the window and poked her head outside. She looked to her left and to her right and saw no one at first. Then, amid the crowd, she saw him. “Aaron!” she called.
Aaron lowered his flute and smiled up at her. “You ran away last night before I could talk to you,” he said.
“Last night,” she began, then stopped, blushing, as she remembered how she must have looked and how wildly she had behaved. Last night was best forgotten. “Aaron,” she said, “where have you been?”
“Not very far from you. Working in the clothing factory,” he said. “I’m on my way there now. At night I study. It is part of what I promised you, Rebekah. I’m making a living and finding a way to build a better life.”
“What about your music?” She waited for his answer.
“I have had enormous luck. This country has already been good to me. I’ve auditioned with a respected flutist,” he said, and his smile became shy. “He believes I have enough talent to succeed. He is a Jewish fellow who plays in an orchestra. If I can save enough money I’ll begin music lessons next year.”
“Oh, Aaron. That’s wonderful!” Rebekah cried.
“First, though,” he added, “I am learning to speak English. I wanted to surprise you, to make you proud of me.”
“I am proud of you!” Rebekah said. She smiled and added, “I’ve missed you, Aaron. I feel as though we have known each other much longer than we actually have.”
“And I’ve missed you,” Aaron said. He glanced at the people who were hurrying past him on the street. “I must go now, or I’ll be in trouble at work. I’ll see you tonight.” He took two steps backward, then called, “Rebekah, your smile is just as beautiful as I remembered it.” He turned and ran down the sidewalk.
Rebekah stood, pressing her hands against her chest as a rush of mingled joy and sorrow surged through her body. But what about her dream? Aaron had said he would see her later, and she hadn’t been able to voice the miserable truth: Her parents wouldn’t even talk with her about the classes.
During the day Rebekah stubbornly kept her mind on her work, and that evening she tried to hide the hurt on her face as her father and Nessin washed their hands and faces and put on their hats and coats.
“Rebekah,” Elias said, “get ready. I will escort you each night to class.”
He gave a pointed look to Nessin, but Rebekah jumped to her feet. “Papa, do you mean it?”
“Of course he means it,” her mother said. “He doesn’t talk just to hear himself talk. Now, hurry. Wash your face. Brush your hair. Don’t keep your father waiting. Be a good girl and do what we want you to do.”
Rebekah touched her father’s arm, and tears came to her eyes. “You understand,” she murmured.
“Not completely,” Elias answered. “To us, a good marriage for you with a suitable dowry is still the proper thing to do. But in America our lives have been turned upside down. Nothing is the same. Everything seems strange. It is easy for you young ones to adapt, but much harder for your mother and for me. Of course we prize education above all else, but for our sons. Here it is different. My daughter will make me proud with her education.
“I know your grandfather has already prepared you,” he said. “Your mother and I have talked about what your grandfather wanted for you and how he encouraged you to follow your dreams. It’s hard for us to understand your dream, but since this is what you want, and since your grandfather wanted it for you, then we will support your decision. We want to do what is right, even though we don’t truly understand.”
“Oh, Papa,” Rebekah said, “Grandfather told me to keep my dreams always in mind, but to be honest with you, I don’t think even Grandfather really understood my dream.”
She waited, her fingers clasped together so tightly that they hurt. “I will make you proud of me, I promise. You’ll never regret this.”
Elias slowly pulled his watch from his pocket and glanced at it. “Hurry and get ready, Rebekah,” he said, “or you and Nessin are going to be late.”
“Oh, Papa! Thank you!” Rebekah shouted and threw her arms around him.
As she combed her hair she thought of Aaron. She couldn’t wait to tell him that she’d be studying with him. Life would be better now. America really was a land of hope, and just as she had promised Aaron, nothing was going to stop them from reaching their dreams.
ABOUT ELLIS ISLAND
ELLIS ISLAND, called by many the “gateway to America,” represents a landmark of America’s rich cultural heritage. Four out of ten Americans have family who passed through this important place as immigrants.
From 1892 to 1897 the millions of immigrants who entered the United States through Ellis Island first saw a massive wooden building with a blue slate roof and ornamental towers. In 1897 this structure mysteriously burned to the ground. Fortunately, no one was injured, but thousands of immigration records were lost.
A new building was constructed and opened in 1900—an impressive edifice of red and yellow brick, where during the next ten years more than 6 million people were processed. The majority of these immigrants came from Italy, Russia, and Austria-Hungary; but there were many who came from England, Ireland, Germany, and the Scandinavian countries; and some who came from Canada, the West Indies, Poland, Greece, Portugal, and Armenia.
Entry to the United States at Ellis Island wasn’t easy. Immigrants faced examinations and inspections and—because of outbreaks of public fear that these individuals might not be able to support themselves—those in poor health or with physical handicaps were returned to the countries from which they came. The complex and confusing entry to the United States was initially made even more difficult for the immigrants because they often did not know English or understand the value of the dollar.
For many years the Ellis Island buildings were deserted, but in 1980 President Ronald Reagan invited Lee Iacocca, chairman of the Chrysler Corporation, to orchestrate the renovation of both the Ellis Island immigration station and the Statue of Liberty through public donations. Over 20 million people responded with gifts totaling over 300 million dollars. Today Ellis
Island is a beautiful museum, preserving the stories of its immigrants for posterity.
Three of my four grandparents were immigrants to this country, so writing the Ellis Island books has been especially meaningful to me.
As Rose strode into the parlor, her father and brothers were at the door ready to leave. The three of them stared at her with wide eyes.
“Rosie! You look like a model in an ad for Marshall Field’s! You’re a beauty!” Johnny exclaimed.
“Nonsense. I’m the same Rose Carney I was yesterday and the day before,” Rose replied, but she glanced away, knowing she hadn’t spoken the truth. She had left girlhood behind with her old clothes and had become a woman.
Johnny flung open the front door. “Let’s go, let’s go! We don’t want our Rosie to be late for work her very first day.”
By trolley Sweeney’s Dry Goods Store, on State Street, was a half hour’s ride. Rose trembled as they arrived, and the only thing that kept her from clinging to her brother was the cheerful appearance of Sweeney’s store.
Mr. George Sweeney was short and stout with a pug-nosed face mapped by crinkle lines. He looked Rose over, nodded, and said, “You look like a proper young saleswoman, but I was told you’ve had no experience in the selling line.”
“I learn quickly,” Rose answered.
A smile twitched at his lips. “I also heard you were straight off the farm.”
“I’ve had convent schooling,” Rose said. “I’m good with sums.”
Mr. Sweeney’s smile deepened. “Welcome, Rose Carney. We’ll see what you can do.”
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Text copyright © 1993 by Joan Lowery Nixon and Daniel Weiss Associates, Inc.
Cover illustration copyright © by Colin Backhouse
All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Delacorte Press, an imprint of Random House Children’s Books, a division of Random House LLC, a Penguin Random House Company, New York. Originally published in hardcover by Delacorte Press, New York, in 1993.
Delacorte Press is a registered trademark and the colophon is a trademark of Random House LLC.
Visit us on the Web! randomhouse.com/kids
Educators and librarians, for a variety of teaching tools, visit us at RHTeachersLibrarians.com
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.
ISBN 978-0-553-08111-4 (trade) — ISBN 978-0-440-21904-0 (pbk.) — ISBN 978-0-307-82749-4 (ebook)
First Delacorte Press Ebook Edition 2013
Random House Children’s Books supports the First Amendment and celebrates the right to read.
v3.1
In loving memory
of my maternal grandparents—
Mathias Louis Meyer,
who came to the United States from
Luxembourg,
and Harriet Louise Prien Meyer
Contents
Master - Table of Contents
Cover
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
About Ellis Island
CHAPTER ONE
ROSE Carney snatched up her skirts with one hand and ran as fast as she could down the path that led from the Ellis Island inspection station to the New Jersey ferry as its whistle gave two long, sharp blasts.
Her friend Kristin Swensen and her parents had already joined the line of immigrants who had passed the dreaded physical and mental examinations and would enter the United States through Jersey City, hub of the railroad lines that led to many distant parts of the United States. Muttering to herself, Rose hurried to catch up with the Swensens while at the same time she tried to keep her wicker suitcase from bumping against her legs and throwing her off balance.
Rose was furious with her uncle Jimmy for deserting her at the immigration station. She’d counted on traveling with him to Chicago, where they’d join her father and two older brothers, but Uncle Jimmy had abruptly broken the news that he was staying in New York.
“You’re a big girl, almost grown,” he’d told her as he tucked a railway ticket into her hands, “and perfectly able to travel to Chicago by yourself.”
As Uncle Jimmy disappeared through the door that led to the New York ferries, there’d been no time for Rose to tell him just what she thought. Now, as she rushed toward the ferry, she grumbled through a dozen angry I-should-have-saids.
“I can’t believe I have to make the trip to Chicago alone!” she told the Swensens as she tried to catch her breath.
She heard the tremor of fear in her voice and, trying to get herself in hand, silently scolded herself. You’re not a child, Rosie Carney. You were frightened when you left Liverpool for the United States on that great whale of a ship, but you made the voyage without mishap. And there’s no reason why you can’t join your father in Chicago still in one piece.
As the ferry chugged away from the dock, Kristin sat down and patted a place for Rose. “You won’t be alone,” she said with a smile. “Father told me we’ll be traveling with you all the way to Chicago.”
“How could that be?” Rose asked. “You’re going to Minnesota, not Chicago.”
“Look at your ticket. It says the Chicago, Milwaukee and St. Paul Railway,” Kristin explained, and laughed at Rose’s loud sigh of relief.
Rose lowered her voice even though Mr. and Mrs. Swensen had made their way through the crowd of passengers to the rail and were watching the massive, towered, red-and-yellow brick building on Ellis Island recede into the distance. “I can’t help worrying about meeting my father again,” she confided. “It’s been almost four years since he left Ireland, and I was only a girl of twelve. What if he doesn’t recognize me?” Rose swallowed hard, then continued, “I confess that even though Ma had an old photograph of him, taken when he was young, sometimes it’s hard to remember his face. What if I don’t recognize him?”
“You’ll find each other with no trouble,” Kristin assured Rose. “Take off your kerchief, and that red hair of yours will be like a beacon light flashing: Here’s Rose! Here’s Rose!”
Rose couldn’t keep from smiling. “I wish that Da could have afforded to bring Ma and my younger sisters to the United States with me. I’ve never before, in almost sixteen years, been separated from my mother.” A little enviously she added, “You and Rebekah are lucky that your families could come to the United States together.”
“You said there’d be enough money to send for your mother and sisters in two years. That’s not so long,” Kristin said, but her voice lacked conviction.
“It is a long time,” Rose insisted.
Her eyes burned with tears as she pictured Ma, Bridget, and Meggie on the Liverpool docks nearly three weeks before. She fought back the tears, twisting to peer at the receding New York skyline, forcing herself to think of anything else.
“I hope that all goes well for Rebekah and her family,” Rose managed. “New York City seems so crowded. I hear it’s a terrifying place. I wouldn’t want to live there.”
“It must be exciting,” Kristin said. “I think I’d like to live in a city. Life can be awfully dull on a farm.” She gave Rose a careful look. “Chicago’s a big city, too. My father said so.”
Rose shivered and drew her shawl more closely around her shoulders. “Much like Dublin, I suppose, and I’m not a bit comfo
rtable in Dublin with all its noise and horses and carts and people hurrying along the streets when they aren’t packed into buildings like eggs in a crate.”
“I think Rebekah will be happy living in New York City,” Kristin said, “because she wants an education, and a city has schools.”
Rose ached as she thought about Rebekah, the other friend she had made on board the ship. Befriending Kristin and Rebekah had made the dreadful voyage in steerage bearable; although their lives and futures were so different, the girls felt as though they’d been friends for years. Rose hated the fact that they’d had to part.
“Do you really think that one day the three of us will be together again?” Rose asked.
“I know we will.” Kristin nodded emphatically. “I believe in making things happen.”
The ferry bumped against the dock, and many of the passengers snatched up their belongings, pushing and shoving toward the gangplank.
“Stand back! Move aside!” the crew yelled as they slung lines to the dock, then jumped down to swiftly pull from the ship the attached hawsers, dropping their heavy loops around the mushroom-shaped bits that rose from the dock.
Mr. Swensen, who was taller and broader shouldered than most of the other men on board, had no trouble shepherding his family down the short gangplank onto the dock. Kristin reached out a hand and dragged Rose along.
They walked to the nearby railway station, which was crowded with passengers.
“Look at that gentleman with his top hat and gold-tipped cane,” Kristin whispered to Rose, but Rose was more interested in the bright posters tacked on the posts and walls throughout the station.
“California—Cornucopia of the World,” one of them read. “Room for Millions of Immigrants.” Rose continued reading, “43,795,000 Acres of Government Lands Untaken. A Climate for Health and Wealth without Cyclones or Blizzards.”
Another touted Texas over the crowded eastern states, and a third poster announced that Kansas was the “Golden Belt Country.”
Ellis Island: Three Novels Page 14
