We visited the hospital Ward on Ellis Island today, wearing hard hats because it is not open to the public and is only partially renovated. We viewed photographs, staged mostly, of various activities in the processing of immigrants through the facilities. We were amazed at the relics that were there, wondered at the real story, since the ones we saw were obviously set for a public relations reason. Most immigrants would probably be wide-eyed from both shock and amazement at the sight before them.
After the long, difficult voyage across the Atantic, imagine staring at the line in front of you, wondering when your turn will come. Waiting isn’t too bad, you have just spent quite a while on a ship, but now that ou are so close, you become somewhat anxious. People around you are speaking various languages, and your spirits are raised if you hear one you recognized. The people who work here are brusque and terse, having done this for so long they have institutionalized the contempt that many service workers have for their clients. Like teachers for their students, and doctors for their patients, the staff becomes impatient at the slightest step out of the ordinary, and you don’t know what you did to offend them.
Finally you approach the desk at the front of the line. You have watched each and every person you could see in front of you and saw how they reacted to questions posed to them. The staff works quickly, and you wonder if they ever look a person in the eye outside of the time they are looking for sickness. The people at the desk ask you several questions, and you try to answer in a way that will get you into America. They send you to another line and you wait some more.
Finally, you are through all the lines, only to find out you must be quarantined on the island in the hospital ward for an indeterminate amount of time until you are well enough to cross the harbor and join the population of New York City. The island across the Hudson River seems close enough to touch, yet, like a desert mirage, it is always just out of your reach. After all the trials of the crossing and entrance process, you still have been kept from your goal.
The Hospital ward reminded me that some immigrants’ ordeals were not over on Ellis Island in one day. Some were there months. Was it necessary? or only an over-reaction?
