Tuesday, July 9, 2019

When millions sailed from the Port of Hamburg

My maternal grandparents, Leon and Barbara Bogdanski, were among the millions who left Europe in the early 20th century. Their destination was the USA, specifically Chicago, Illinois, where relatives had worked to fund their passage. When I visited Germany and Poland this spring, I knew I had a chance to retrace at least some of their footsteps. First stop: Veddel Island in Hamburg, from which nearly 6 million sailed to new countries between 1850 and 1938. Leon and Barbara, living in what was then the Russian-held Polish city of Warsaw, traveled there in 1910.

What might that experience have been like? I wondered, not having known either of them. Barbara died before I was born and Leon, who I rarely saw, died when I was 9. My mother and her 7 siblings--none of whom are still alive--either did not know or did not volunteer the information. Thanks to the relatively new Emigration Museum Ballinstadt, built on the site of this mass migration, I was able to learn something of what they and so many others experienced in the days or weeks leading up to their departure.

I learned much more, as the museum looks at migration as a global phenomenon over centuries and helps viewers see just how many people have been, are or will be on the move. What is the push that sends someone away from home and the pull that brings him or her to a particular place?


The museum is spread through three low brick buildings near the Veddel train stop in Hamburg, bordered by a busy highway and much greenery as well.. Few were walking around the Friday morning in April when I arrived, this area that was once a mini-city, where travelers could stroll along tree-lined streets and ate in dining halls that could accommodate thousands at a time. The main man behind all this was shipping magnate Albert Ballin, who realized that running an emigration service in addition to cruises would boost the fortunes of what became one of the biggest shipping companies in the world.

As I followed the English guide to the German-language exhibits, I immediately saw how Ballin's enterprise put to shame current US immigration policy on the border with Mexico, where asylum seekers and children are kept in overcrowded conditions, without basic necessities and with dwindling hopes for a better life.

Thinking back to 1910....After arriving at Veddel--after a several-days-long journey--with their 2-year-old daughter Marie and infant son Kasimir in tow, Barbara and Leon were probably tired and hungry. Relief came soon. After registering, they received an accommodation assignment card that doubled as a meal ticket. They were able to stay together, being a family, while single men and women had separate living quarters. Clothing and luggage were disinfected and stored upon arrival, hand luggage only being allowed in the residence halls.

I was impressed--Were Leon and Barbara impressed too?--with the description of this little town with its numerous trees and paths. There was a church and a music hall and there were outdoor concerts on fine days. Children had a playground. Did all of this mitigate the frustration of the wait for departure? There were medical exams every morning--an important point for the shipping company, as it had to pay the return fare for any immigrant turned away at their destination for illness. There were practical matters involving waiting for travel papers and acquiring supplies for the voyage. On-site shops carried clothes, sanitary supplies and remedies for seasickness.

There were two dining halls: one for Jewish immigrants, where food was prepared according to dietary laws, and another kitchen for Christians. The kitchens, equipped with steamers and an ultra-modern potato-peeling machine could feed 3,000 people an hour. Tea and coffee, bread and butter for breakfast; soup with meat or fish, potatoes and vegetables for lunch, and tea, bread, sausage, cheese and stew for dinner.

Not that it was paradise. In the early days after its opening, the mini-city suffered from overcrowding and sanitary problems. However, a  solution was reached well before my grandparents arrived--new construction and a doubling of the size of the site. The museum has collected many letters from emigrants, and a constant theme was fear of failing a medical exam. There were delays in departure, timetable glitches and the like. Were Leon and Barbara often stressed out? Or were they patient, knowing they had tickets and people who would welcome them in their new home. Barbara's sister, Marianna, had emigrated 5 years earlier; her mother and two sisters in the spring of 1910.

On departure day, Leon and Barbara, with infant Kasimir and little Marie in tow, either walked or were ferried the 3 miles to the Grosser Grasbrook quay, the place where they would board a small feeder boat that would take them to the steamer. More waiting and still another medical exam. A nervous time perhaps, given the calamity it would have been to be turned away. Leon and Barbara and kids passed and were allowed to board the Amerika, the boat that would take them to Ellis Island. (Photo below is from the Ellis Island website.



Viewing the exhibits, I was disappointed to find nothing specifically about Poland. However, the "push" factors affecting affecting Polish emigrants were common to people in other countries as well: poverty as a result of growing population and lack of land or employment opportunities. For Jews, there was severe religious persecution. Poles in my grandparents' region,  I learned from later reading, suffered from the neglect and oppression of the Russian Empire. (Poland did not become an independent country until the end of World War I, having been partitioned for more than a century into three regions controlled by Russia, Germany and Austria.)

Family lore had it that Leon and Barbara emigrated to keep Leon out of the Russian Army. That's quite likely true, although one photo that survives shows him in a military uniform. Perhaps he was in fact conscripted, prompting him to escape by leaving Poland. According to one source, "Russian-occupied Poland experienced increasingly abusive Russification in the mid-19th century. From 1864 onward, all education was mandated to be in Russian, and private education in Polish was illegal. Polish newspapers, periodicals, books, and theater plays were permitted, but were frequently censored by the authorities. All high school students were required to pass national exams in Russian; young men who failed these exams were forced into the Russian Army. In 1890, Russia introduced tariffs to protect the Russian textile industry, which began a period of economic decline and neglect towards Poland."

Meanwhile, there was an industrializing country that wanted workers--The United States. The same source quoted above continued, "Immigrants...were attracted by the high wages and ample job opportunities for unskilled manual labor in the United States, and were driven to jobs in American mining, meatpacking, construction, steelwork, and heavy industry—in many cases dominating these fields until the mid-20th century. Over 90% of Poles arrived and settled in communities with other Polish immigrants. These communities are called Polonia and the largest such community historically was in Chicago, Illinois."

To be continued: Arrival on Ellis Island and a new life


















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