It was the 29th of July in the year 1895. I started this journal as an account of my voyage across the Atlantic and have kept it going these last fifteen years. It has certainly not been an easy journey, but I would not change my decision.
I left the southern region of Italy because of the agricultural crisis. The price of grain was next to nothing and my family could not survive (Molnar, 2010). I boarded the first steamer I could get. I had to work my way on the ship because I could not afford passage. The meals were pitiful, but served the body well enough. It usually consisted of a meat, prepared in a soup or stew to extend its use as far as humanly possible, and boiled potatoes (Washington, 1911). The meats varied somewhat, usually herring or canned fish, but occasionally beef (Washington, 1911). The sleeping accommodations were not for the modest. They were large rooms, able to fit about 300 or so persons (Washington, 1911). The berths were stacked in two tiers, allowing for just over two feet and half feet of space above each berth (Washington, 1911).
When I arrived, I came through what the native citizenry call Ellis Island. At first arrival, the Statue of Liberty comes into view. It was somewhat daunting because of its size, but it also gave me hope that one day I might see my family again. It took quite some time to actually disembark the streamer upon which I arrived. There were so many others like myself, trying to find a way out of whatever their previous situation had been! We divided into two lines with men in one line and women and children in the other (Italian American, 2014). I am certainly glad I traveled alone. I might never have found my family. The first process I underwent after such a long journey was a medical examination (Italian American, 2014). My eyes, scalp, and neck were inspected for diseases (Italian American, 2014). Thankfully, I have none. I managed to stay generally healthy on the boat trip across the Atlantic Ocean. My gait, posture, and mannerisms also seemed to be analyzed at that point (Italian American, 2014). I either passed or the doctor found nothing terribly upsetting about my person. The next process in my immigration journey was what seemed to be an interview. This portion was the immigration inspection (Italian American, 2014). The immigration officer asked me a series of questions. For example, I was asked my name, age, country of origin, and race (Italian American, 2014). Then I was asked if I understood how to read, write, or speak the English language (Italian American, 2014). At that time, I was only able to give my name and my country of origin. I knew nothing else of the English language. I was asked several other questions, which I did my best to answer. My answers must have been sufficient as I passed this inspection as well.
I have settled into an area just outside of Boston, Massachusetts. It is not an easy life here. Most of the residents of Boston do not like Italian immigrants (Demetri, 2014). They certainly detest anyone of the Catholic faith as well (Demetri, 2014). We are accused of stealing jobs and only “using” this country for our own gains (Demetri, 2014). If that is the case, then I wonder how many “natives” who were originally from other parts of this world also “used” this country to escape hardships and find a better life for themselves(Demetri, 2014). I would be willing to bet quite a few. I had to learn the language. That was one of my first priorities. I quickly found out that ignorance will not save you. I was accused of stealing apples from a local shopkeeper. I had not stolen anything, and although I had no apples on my person, nor was I even near the shop, I was accused of this crime, nonetheless. Just as I was to be carried away by the local constable, a local clergyman came to my rescue. He spoke perfect English and explained that I had not taken anything. It was then I realized that ignorance could get someone into quite a bit of trouble. I asked the clergyman where I might find educational opportunities to learn to speak, read, and write English. He offered to teach me in return for cleaning his church and the grounds surrounding it. It was hard work, but he also gave me a place to sleep, as I had nothing but the meager possessions I had brought with me. It only took a few months to learn the language, but as I had been paid in lessons, I had no money with which to travel or procure other accommodations. He was kind, though. He introduced me to a man who supervised a crew with a local construction company. He was overseeing the build of the new McKim Building of the Boston Public Library (Boston Public Library, 2014). I was not much of a construction worker, but at that point any job would do. Because I had no formal training, he managed to create a job for me in which I ran materials for the skilled laborers. If they needed tools, I brought them tools. If they needed materials, such as steel or wooden planks, I retrieved their materials. I worked from dawn until dusk, doing whatever was necessary. I needed to be able to make enough money for a place to live as well as send money to my family in Italy. I made $1.61 per day (Molnar, 2010).
After the first couple of months, I had enough money to secure a room in a tenement house not far from the jobsite for $10.00 per month. The room was small and there was not enough ventilation as it was located more in the middle of the building (The History Channel, 2014). There was also no source of outside light as a result of its location (The History Channel, 2014). I could not afford, however, to be terribly choosy at that point. I saved all that I could, spending as little as possible. The room was cramped, but at least it was closed to the elements (The History Channel, 2014). Unfortunately, most of the housing of that type was not safe (The History Channel, 2014). Some tenement buildings burned to ground as a result of cheap and unsafe building materials (The History Channel, 2014). I suppose I could consider myself lucky.
As I think back on all those years of working, I realize I did not need much in the way of luxury. I had a roof over my head and I ate enough to keep waking up and going back to my job. My main goal, of course, was to go back to my family. I think, however, the decision to move them to America was a better one. My daughter has grown to love Boston and though it has not been easy to achieve, I feel I have shown her a solid work ethic and what perseverance can achieve. I was able to bring my wife and daughter over, as well as find a single family home. Though I am a laborer, I have done well and my daughter will know how a man should care for his family. Someone who will work hard for her to keep her safe and prosperous.