the golden door.......

Over 400 years ago, a small atoll in Upper New York Bay was known as Gull Island by the Mohegan Indians who inhabited the area. It only measured between two to three acres, and had a habit of vanishing under risings tide waters. Around 1628, it was discovered that the beds surrounding the island were rich in oysters; and it's name was changed to reflect it's "riches". Following the hanging of Anderson the Pirate in 1765, the island was once again renamed as Gibbet Island, after the instrument used to hang Anderson. Twenty years later a man named Samuel Ellis bought the property, and renamed it once more. It would never change names again, and it is affectionately known as Ellis Island today.

It would pass through several of the Ellis descendants before it was purchased by the state of New York, then resold to the federal government in 1808 for a mere $10,000.00. Fort Gibson would be erected on the site between the years of 1812 to 1814. By 1861 the government would dismantle Fort Gibson, and in 1876 Ellis Island would serve as a munitions depot till 1890.
This very same year, Ellis Island was chosen to be the new screening station for all immigrants
entering the United States. Castle Garden, the original station, was no longer able to handle the flow of immigrants, so Ellis Island was increased to 3.3 acres, and had a new ferry slip built to accommodate the steady stream of new "Americans".

Within two years, Ellis Island would be increased once more to the size of 14 arces. Not only would it hold an immigration depot, but support buildings as well. Due to the stricter inspection policies, it became evident by 1897 that a dormitory was needed to house new immigrants until they could be cleared for entry into the states. Then a fire broke out which destroyed almost everything, save a few buildings, before they could erect the new dormitory. The island was forced to shut down while everyone went back to the drawing board. By 1898 a new plan was formed and construction was started. Ellis Island would be increased once more to the size of 17 acres, and a second island was built using the rock and earth taken from New York subway tunnels and Grand Central Station evacuations. On December 17, 1900, the doors to the new registry halls were opened once more. It would resemble the likenesses of train stations, which were accustomed to handling many people at one time as well as cargo. A third island was built using the same process as island 2. It would measure five acres and included a bridge that connected it to island 2. These islands would house hospitals, kitchens, a baggage station, an electrical plant, a bath house, as well as dormitories.

For 64 years, over 17 million people walked through the doors of this magnificent building until even harsher immigration laws and a steady decrease was forced to close it down in 1954. People came from all countries, all walks of life, and all with their own dreams of becoming rich in the "new country". It was what they were told was the golden door to a new and improved life. What they would come to find out was that the streets were not paved in gold, and most likely they would be the ones to help pave the streets.

My maternal Grandparents would be two of those people who would enter into the United States by boat from Italy. They came at separate times in the early 1900's; still young in age, and would eventually become part of an arranged marriage, or else Grandma would have entered into a nunnery.
Grandpa would open his own shoe repair business as he was a skilled cobbler, and Grandma would raise two children, cook, clean, and generally be just a housewife. They never really got used to being here, even though they lived in America almost 80 years... and they would only be able to return back to Italy once. This time they would fly over the Atlantic instead of going by boat. I don't remember too many stories of their original trip, as they didn't talk about it much, but do remember that they always referred to Italy as the "old country".

I only had to imagine how strange it might have been for them to embark on this venture to the "new country". How confusing things might have been dealing with different laws, different customs and different languages. Our country was younger then by almost 100 years. Some of the things we are so comfortable with today did not exist, or even become a thought till after my grandparents were fully bedded down in this new country. Believe it or not, even indoor plumbing was considered a luxury at that time. Refrigerators were "iceboxes", and oil lamps lit more rooms than electricity did.

They were lucky, as some of their relatives had come here first, so they had someone to come over to; a point of reference, as it were. Still, there would be no turning back as passage was considered a one-way deal. Their freedom was considerably haltered by no money to return. It was a brave adventure, with no promises, only hopes and dreams. At that time, you just learned to make do with what you had, and moved into a neighborhood that spoke the same language as you. You found a job, got married, and raised a family. It was a simple equation that ended with grandchildren, and little more was expected of you. They were fortunate to live into their 90's, and see eight grandchildren as well as 7 great- grandchildren. The last great grandchild was born after my Grandmother passed away in 1995.

So for the most part, my grandparents lived an American dream; which was only that they owned land, raised a family, and quite worrying about streets that were not paved in gold. As long as they got the first two things right, they felt they had done the job they were supposed to do. Simpler times, simpler equations... and the golden door that led them on that path so many years ago.