"Crossing": A poetic remembrance, 1909

Crossing
A poetic remembrance, 1909 
by Lisa

A young, new mother and her little son.
A village farm. A loving family.
A husband in a distant unknown land.
Her task: to leave and cross the massive sea.

Sad looks and words and tears from family.
Her mother’s broken heart in deepest prayer.
A bag or two, her child, and they must go.
A world to cross before arrival there.

Across the continent by train to shore,
the port looms large and daunting, and right then
a thought suddenly shakes her halting heart:
she’ll never see her home country again.

With husband waiting on the other side,
she and her young son step off of the land
and onto this new vessel of the sea –
but their place is below, so they descend.

In steerage – tossing, shifting, dark and damp –
below the deck they wait and count the days.
In such close quarters her young son takes ill.
She nurses him and counts the hours and prays.

The days pass slowly, painfully – eighteen –

of engine noise and air too stale to breathe.

And fever! Purgatory on the sea!

Her hope is for the day that they may leave.

Amidst her pain and suffering she finds

more travelers in similar despair.

Some countrymen whose ways and words she knows,

but many foreign tongues are from elsewhere.

She finds herself within a strange new world

and wonders where this voyage will yet lead.

Her strength and faith are rising, falling, while

the ship is tossed and pitched out on the sea.

How glorious – the day she hears the news

that land is near; departure eminent.

But joy is short-lived as this mother learns

the place where her ill baby will be sent.

In pain with measles, he must be confined.

Son and his mother forced to separate.

Her salty tears form oceans near her feet.

All she can do is pray and hope and wait.

Then finally the flood of trials departs

when mother, son – and father! – meet once more.

The sea of separation which they faced

is now behind them as they step ashore.

A young, new mother and her little son.

Her husband by her side in a new land.

This family steps into a new life

holding each other tightly by the hand.

© Lisa / Smallest Leaf Press

Written in memory of the transatlantic journey of twenty-four-year-old Ilona (Bence) Ujlaki and her two-year-old son Ferencz. They traveled by train from Legrad, Hungary to the port of Fiume, Hungary (now Rijeka, Croatia). Their third class (steerage) voyage on the S.S. Carmania to New York harbor lasted for eighteen days: from February 13 to March 2, 1909. While on board the ship, little Ferencz became ill with measles.  After the ship docked at Ellis Island, he was separated from his mother and hospitalized. After being reunited, Ilona and her son were able to meet their husband and father, the elder Ferencz, and begin their new life in New York City. Ilona, later to be known as Helen Ulaky, was my great-grandmother.

This poem has been submitted to the 89th edition of Jasia's Carnival of Genealogy whose topic is Ode to My Family's History featuring family history-focused poems. (Thanks to footnoteMaven for this edition's poster shown here).

Want to read more of my poetry?  Check out my parody of Katharine Lee Bates' America, The Beautiful: 100 Years in America the Beautiful, my limericks honoring my Irish immigrant ancestor entitled A poem for Patrick, or the little ditty I wrote to describe myself as an Irish family history blogger: A limerick for the love of Ireland.

America at last! Ilona's arrival at Ellis Island, 1909

It was one-hundred years ago today that my great-grandmother Ilona (Bence) Ujlaki completed her trying journey aboard the S.S. Carmania and stepped onto Ellis Island with her toddler son, Ferencz. The seventeen-day journey from the port of Fiume, Hungary (now Rijeka, Croatia) was surely a trial as she cared for her son, who became ill during the voyage. Upon arrival they were both admitted to Ellis Island's hospital before finally being released to reunite with Ilona's husband, Ferencz, who had not yet seen his first-born child.

The S.S. Carmania ship manifest for this voyage lists the following information about passenger Ferenczne Ujlaki (that's Ilona listed as "wife of Ferencz Ujlaki"):

• She was twenty-four years old
• $10 was all she had to her name
• Her ethnicity is listed as Hungarian/German
• Her father Stjepan Bence is listed as the nearest friend or relative from her home village of Legrad, Hungary

Just what did Ilona experience on her journey to America?

It is not too difficult to gain a picture of what her trip may have been like. The New York Times published an article on December 14, 1909 called Women in Steerage Grossly Ill Used reporting on conditions observed by special agents of the U.S. Immigration Commission. They had traveled as steerage passengers on various steamships for investigative purposes. Their experiences as travelers on these transatlantic voyages were presented to the U.S. Senate along with recommendations for new legislation to improve conditions on the ships.

The article distinguishes between the "old" and "new" types of steerage. Of the old, the members of the commission maintained in the introduction to their report that:

"The universal human needs of space, air, food, sleep, and privacy are recognized to the degree now made compulsory by law. Beyond that the persons carried are looked upon as so much freight, with mere transportation as their only due."

The article continues:

"The sleeping quarters are described as being in many cases dirty, inadequate, and all that is bad. The average berth is six feet long and two feet wide, with only two and one-half feet of space above it, and that is all the space to which the passenger can assert a definite right. In that space he has to sleep and find room also for his baggage, all of his extra clothing, his eating utensils, his towels and other toilet necessaries. The passageways between the berths are so narrow that none of the articles mentioned could be deposited there."

The S.S. Carmania on which Ilona traveled more than likely fit into the category of new steamships since it was built in 1905, so Ilona's trip may have been a bit better than some travelers of her time. However, with a capacity for about 1,000 steerage passengers on board, it was surely no pleasant ocean cruise.

The 1909 New York Times article about women in steerage continues, in the words of one agent of the Immigration Commission:

"No woman with the smallest degree of modesty, and with no other conveniences than a washroom, used jointly with men, and faucet of cold salt water, can keep clean amid such surroundings for a period of twelve days and more. It was forbidden to bring water for washing purposes into the sleeping compartments nor was there anything in which to bring it. On different occasions some of the women rose early, brought drinking water in their soup palls for washing, but were driven out when detected by a steward. No soap and no towels were supplied."

You can read more of the article at the New York Times online archive here or read its transcription on the Gjenvick-Gjønvik Archives website.

The Gjenvick-Gjønvik Archives website provides additional insight into the experiences of steerage passengers traveling during the first decade of the 20th-century. See the page Steerage - The Immigrant's Journey for links to various articles that describe the experiences of third class immigrants on their steamship voyages, including Urgency of Improved Conditions (1906) and The Immigrant Journey: Fellowship of the Steerage (1905).

From the latter article comes the following look at The Day of Arrival, in the poetic words of one who had made the trip at least ten times himself by 1905:

"The [ship] is awake after its restless night and mutely awaits the disclosures of its own and the new world's secrets. The sound of a booming gun is carried across the hidden space, and faint touches of flame struggling through the gray, are the sun's answer to the salute from Governor's Island.

"The morning breeze, like a 'Dancing Psaltress', moves gently over the glassy surface of the water, lifts the fog higher and higher, tearing it into a thousand fleecy shreds, and the far things have come near and the hidden things have been revealed. The sky line straight ahead, assaulted by a thousand towering shafts, looking like a challenge to the strong, and a warning to the weak, makes all of us tremble from an unknown fear.

"The [ship] is still mute; it looks to the left at the populous shore, to the right at the green stretches of Long Island, and again straight ahead at the mighty city. Slowly the ship glides into the harbour, and when it passes under the shadow of the Statue of Liberty, the silence is broken, and a thousand hands are outstretched in greeting to this new divinity into whose keeping they now entrust themselves.

"Some day a great poet will arise among us, who, catching the inspiration of that moment will be able to put into words these surging emotions; who will be great enough to feel beating against his own soul and give utterance to, the thousand varying notes which are felt and never sounded."

As the writer states, the glory of the moment of arrival was often short-lived.

"Cabin and passengers alike, soon find the poetry of the moment disturbed; for the quarantine and custom-house officials are on board, driving away the tourist's memories of the splendour of European capitals by their inquisitiveness as to his purchases. They make him solemnly swear that he is not a smuggler, and upon landing, immediately proceed to prove that he is one.

"The passengers have before them more rigid examinations which may have vast consequences; so in spite of the joyous notes of the band, and the glad greetings shouted to and fro, they sink again into awe-struck and confused silence. When the last cabin passenger has disappeared from the dock, the immigrants with their baggage are loaded into barges and taken to Ellis Island for their final examination."

Ellis Island Registration Room

The admonishment from this writer in 1905 stood out to me as I read the account of his observations of many fellow travelers. He wrote:

"Let no one believe that landing on the shores of 'The land of the free, and the home of the brave' is a pleasant experience; it is a hard, harsh fact, surrounded by the grinding machinery of the law, which sifts, picks, and chooses; admitting the fit and excluding the weak and helpless."

Such was the day of arrival for many an immigrant to America in the early 20th-century, including Ilona Ujlaki, who stepped off of the S.S. Carmania and onto Ellis Island one-hundred years ago today and had her first real taste of America. She would make her home in this new land for the rest of her ninety-seven years.

Photograph of the Statue of Liberty in 1909 courtesy of Wikimedia Commons. Photograph of Ellis Island Registration Room thanks to Greg Krenzelok's Ellis Island webpage.

For more on the history of third class steamship travel, visit the Norway Heritage website, particularly Steerage Passengers - Emigrants Between Decks.

This article has been submitted to the 68th edition of Jasia's Carnival of Genealogy, theme: Women's History Month: One Woman.

Ilona's emigration: The one hundred year anniversary

Exactly one hundred years ago today a twenty-four-year-old young mother and her two-year-old son boarded the S.S. Carmania in the port of Fiume, Hungary (now Rijeka, Croatia).

A segment of the S.S. Carmania list of passengers departing Fiume, Hungary on February 13, 1909

Bound for New York City, where her husband was sowing seeds for their new life after his own immigration in 1906, Ilona and young Ferencz would have a difficult seventeen-day sea voyage which culminated with their detainment at Ellis Island's hospital.

It must have been a tearful goodbye that she waved to her country after stepping onto the ship in the port of Fiume. No doubt she was troubled with concerns for her little one's safety as she left the family and country that she knew and began the trip across the Atlantic.

Below is a photograph of the little train station in Ilona's home village of Legrad where she may have said her last goodbyes to her family before her departure.

One hundred years later, Ilona's descendants are well-established in the United States. With over one hundred children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren and more living in cities from coast to coast, she could not have known what impact she and her husband's decision to emigrate would have on the generations to follow.

On this one hundred year anniversary of Ilona's emigration, 100 Years in America honors Ilona (Bence) Ujlaki for the courage she exhibited throughout her life and for the love she had for her family that stills reverberates today.

Thank you, dear Grammy, for the inspiration of your life. You are loved and remembered fondly.

For more on Ilona's immigration to the United States and a glimpse into the journeys of other immigrant women who traveled as she did, see America at last! Ilona's arrival at Ellis Island, 1909. 

Sources (in order of appearance):

Manifest, S.S. Carmania, February 1909, page 250, lines 21 and 22, Ferenczne & Ferencz Ujlaki, ages 26 and 2; “Passenger Record,” digital images, Statue of Liberty – Ellis Island Foundation (http://ellisisland.org/EIFile/popup_weif_5a.asp?src=%2Fcgi%2Dbin%2Ftif2gif%2Eexe%3FT%3D%5C%5C%5C%5C192%2E168%2E4%2E227%5C%5CIMAGES%5C%5CT715%2D1209%5C%5CT715%2D12090250%2ETIF%26S%3D%2E5&pID=101530100288&name=Ferenczne%26nbsp%3BUjlaki&doa=Mar+02%2C+1909&port=Fiume&line=0021 : accessed 2007).

Ilona Ujlaki with baby son Ferencz Ujlaki, Legrad, Hungary. Black and white photographic print. Circa 1906-1907. Privately held by Lisa, [address for private use]. 2009.

Željeznicka stanica Ortiloš (Legrad, Croatia train station) photographed by Z.G. Digital image. Circa 2008. Privately held by Z.G., [address for private use]. 2008.

Helen Ulaky. Black and white photographic print. Circa 1947. Privately held by M.T., [address for private use]. 2009.

Lisa with Helen Ulaky. Polaroid color print. Circa 1970s. Privately held by Lisa, [address for private use]. 2009.

Ellis Island: the untold story

Image copyright © 2007 by Smallest Leaf Press. All Rights Reserved.

A mother myself, it is heart-wrenching for me to imagine the experiences of my great-grandmother back in 1909 at the age of 24. Her husband had left their home in Hungary in 1906 to smooth the way for his young family's new life in America. Ilona stayed behind, expecting their first child and intending to follow as soon as she was able.

After what must have been a tearful goodbye, Ilona and her 2-year-old son Frankie sailed from February 13 to March 2, 1909 on a trying 18-day journey from Fiume, Hungary (which is now Trieste, Italy) to New York in the steerage section of the oceanliner Carmania. At some point on the journey, Frankie became ill with measles. No easy trip for a mother and her toddler. Then, finally on Ellis Island, the unthinkable for a mother with a sick child in a foreign land: Frankie, to be treated for measles, was separated from her.

This part of my great-grandmother's story has always intrigued me. What did they really experience during their stay on Ellis Island? How many days were she and Frankie there? At what point were they separated and where were they placed? I've never heard mention of Ilona being sick, but their Ellis Island ship manifest indicates via stamp that both were "IN HOSPITAL", then "DISCHARGED". When were they finally reunited and released for arrival into New York and how did they contact her husband Ferencz?

One of the items at the top of my to do list of family history research projects had been to contact Ellis Island and get information about the hospital records for young Frankie, our measles patient there back in 1909.

It looks like I can cross that one off the list.

It turns out that Lorie Conway, a filmmaker who set out to document the history of the Ellis Island hospital, spent almost a decade searching for patient records such as Frankie's. She found one.

Were they lost by someone "cleaning up" after the hospital closed its doors in 1951 and before the Coast Guard shut down its final operations in 1954, leaving the island abandoned? Or were they discarded more randomly during the incredibly busy years of operation? (In 1921 alone the hospital saw an average of 1,500 immigrants a day for a total of 16,666 patients that year - the busiest year for Ellis Island medical care.) One more theory: could they possibly have been tossed during renovations before the 1990 re-opening of the main hall as the Ellis Island Immigration Museum?

Maybe the records will eventually turn up in a federal records facility somewhere. In the meantime, we have a fascinating look into the experiences of patients on Ellis Island through Conway's film and companion book: Forgotten Ellis Island.

Inspired by a 1998 article by Clyde Haberman in The New York Times Magazine about Ellis Island's importance to our history as a nation, Conway set about to document the history of the "other side of the island". Restoration of the main hall had opened the north side of Ellis Island to visitors, but the other areas, including the hospital buildings on the south side, had remained just as they were left in the 1950's (although now overgrown with trees growing through floors, walls and ceilings in disrepair, etc.).

Conway's decade-long project is a treasure for all Americans, particularly those of us with ancestors who passed through Ellis Island. That includes roughly 40% of Americans today.

The book and film bring to life a period in history that, though fairly recent, seems worlds away from our own. Outdated medical practices, classification of people of different ethnic backgrounds based on eugenic beliefs, and fear of the outbreak of strange diseases brought in with these foreign patients drove the organization of the facility. But it was a place that brought healing and hope to many, a place where new arrivals, worn and weary from travel at sea, found kind care and a chance at a new life.

Looking back at the past with the vision that Forgotten Ellis Island brings to us provides not only an understanding of what many of our forebears may have experienced, but a perspective on our own times. And it refuses to let us ignore our own prejudices of immigrants in our world today.

The film Forgotten Ellis Island premiered in New York and Boston in October. If you are in the Boston area, you can view it at The Boston Public Library on December 6.

If you would like more information about plans for the restoration of the remainder of Ellis Island, including the hospital buildings, take a look at Save Ellis Island.

Special thanks to Tim Agazio at Genealogy Reviews Online and Chris Dunham at The Genealogue for their mentions of Forgotten Ellis Island.

From the old country to a new world

Ferencz Ujlaki (senior) had grown up in the little village of Alsódomboru (now called Donja Dubrava). As the story goes, his parents, Josip & Teresija (Globlek) Ujlaki were both aged and his father was blind. Supposedly Ferencz had a sister who died from diptheria at the age of six. (I intend to try to confirm these stories with birth and death records from the village courtesy of LDS microfilm.) Because of his father's blindness and age, Ferencz was expected to perform many of the household duties. He only attended school up to first grade because he was needed at home.

Ferencz had left for America before the birth of he and his wife Ilona's first child. Supposedly he did not think he would be able to make himself leave after the birth of their baby, so he left ahead of his family in order to make a start for them in the new country.

I have found what could possibly be Ferencz' Ellis Island ship manifest. If this is him, his name is spelled wrong (Ujhazi) and his town of origin is also incorrect (Veprod). The name Ujhazi is an actual surname and Veprod is an actual town in Serbia/Montenegro, so this could be another person's record. However, both the surname and the village name could easily have been miswritten by a quick-writing customs agent. Because I cannot find another record that comes close to appearing to be his, and because this date makes sense, I assume this is correct. If you learn otherwise, please let me know. (The best way to search the Ellis Island website is using Steve Morse's search engines, if you'd like to give it a try yourself. I would appreciate any additional research assistance!)

Baby Ferencz (later known as Frankie) was born on May 9, 1906 in Legrad. With her husband gone, Ilona and her new baby settled in to live with her mother-in-law, Teresija (Globlek) Ujlaki, in her home in Legrad. I guess it was not a happy arrangement. Ilona eventually left her mother-in-law's home and moved back in with her parents, Stjepan and Magdalena Bence. Supposedly Teresija, Ferencz's mother, was keeping all the money that Ferencz was sending through the mail for Ilona. When I imagine this happening, I think about this old poor widowed woman, whose only child had left for America. I am not sure how many other close relatives she had. She might have felt abandoned.

Once the baby had turned age 2, he and his mother made the long trip to meet his father in America. It is too difficult to read the writing on the Carmania's ship list that indicates the address in New York to which Ilona was heading once she and her son left the ship and Ellis Island. Somewhere in Manhattan, that is sure. The little family settled into their new life in the new country, but all around them were fellow countryman from the old country. They were learning to speak English, I'm sure, but had plenty of opportunity to speak Hungarian and possibly also Croatian and/or their Kajkavian dialect.

Here is the first photo that we have of Ferencz and his first-born son together. He was born a world away while his father was in the new country. Little Ferencz, his father's namesake, looks to be about 3 or 4 years old in the picture, a new immigrant to the United States.

Here she is

This is the actual S.S. Carmania, whose steerage section was home to Ilona and her little son for seventeen days back in 1909. Learn a little more about the ship's own fascinating story here.

A few facts on the S.S. Carmania:

• Built in 1905
• 678 feet long
• 72 feet wide
• Displacement: 19,524 tons
• Propulsion: Steam turbines, triple screw
• Passenger capacity: 2,650 (300 in 1st class, 350 in 2nd class, 900 in 3rd class and 1,100 in the steerage section where Ilona and her son traveled)

Crossing on the S.S. Carmania: Ilona's passage to America

A young 24-year-old mother and her baby son... Cute little fellow, don't you think?

When this photo was taken, in Hungary, young Ilona had a weight hanging over her shoulders that you cannot see in the picture. She knew that when it was the right time, she and her young son must leave her family and the only world that she had ever known and sail across the Atlantic to meet her waiting husband. What a trip it would be!

A few years ago I sat at the computer as I searched the Ellis Island website records for the names of these two travelers on a ship manifest. I was in awe when I found them. There was her name, his name, and other information. It was definitely my great-grandmother and her young son. Take a look yourself at the scanned copy of their original ship manifest as I saw it that day. If you take a look at this document online, make sure you view both pages. (You must register in order to view them, but it is simple and free.)

The ship was the S.S. Carmania. The trip was seventeen days at sea from departure at Fiume, Hungary (now Rijeka, Croatia) to New York's Ellis Island. When you take a look at the ship's manifest you will notice that Ilona is listed as Ferenczne Ujlaki, age 24, and below her is listed her young son, Ferencz, age 2. Ferenczne means "wife of Ferencz" in Hungarian.

Also notice:

• $10 was all she had to her name


• Her ethnicity is listed as Hungarian/German


• Her father's name is listed as the nearest friend or relative from whence she came


• It is difficult to read the final destination - if you can do so, please let me know

I'm so glad to know that they made it safely across the Altantic on the difficult trip. It must have been quite memorable, because in all of her ninety-seven years she never made the return trip.