WHATEVERS II - Castle Gardens

(English version, please scroll down)

Buenos días queridos lectores,

De nuevo, gracias por vuestras palabras de aliento y cariño para "Modern Voices"

Ayer estuve buscando algo de inspiración para un próximo artículo y me fui a dar un paseo al puerto.

Pasear por los muelles, dar de comer a las gaviotas, ver correr a los crios tras ellas o simplemente sentarme en un banco y ver atracar y zarpar a los barcos es una actividad de lo más relajante.

Recuerdo las historietas de mi abuelo y de su hazaña en el England en 1866, cuando llegó a Nueva York. Siempre llevaba un recorte de prensa en su bolsillo, con las recomendaciones para aquellos inmigrantes que desembarcaban por primera vez. Se lo dió un amigo de un amigo, de un amigo, y fue lo que le hizo decidirse a emigrar. Lo cuidaba como un tesoro, como recuerdo de su sueño por llegar a América.

Por su curiosidad, os la transcribo a continuación (Nota de Cuchy: No voy a traducir la nota del periódico. Si alguno no lo entiende, por favor, utilizad algun traductor online. Gracias)

Credits: http://www.immigrantships.net/newsarticles/1860_newsarticles.html

Aberystwyth Observer
19 March 1864
NOTES FOR AMERICAN EMIGRANTS. 
The emigration to New York continues in full force, and as a working man, in a letter which he has sent to England, has some useful remarks on "Castle Gardens", the landing-place of emigrants, we extract them:— Emigration is as rife as ever to this country from 2,000 to 3,000 a week arrive in New York alone, the great proportion being English and Irish, with comparatively few Scotch, and a good mixture of Germans. It is a strange sight to watch, the landing of emigrants; it touches a "Britisher's" heart, and brings to his mind his own arrival. One cannot help noticing the great number of mechanics (or mechanists); the "iron-mouldy" trousers is a never-failing guide. On the arrival of the City of Washington and the China, it was remarked that most of the men appeared to be mechanics, or men employed in iron manufactories. Strangers are not allowed inside "Castle Gardens," as the place where emigrants are landed is called. A floating wharf, tugged by a small steamer, brings from the ship the 500 or 600 emigrants usually brought out by each steamer. The steamer lies out in the stream. 
Persons having friends in the vessel, upon bringing a note from the office of the company owning the ship, are admitted to a railing until the person wanted is found. Women are not allowed to leave the "Castle" until the officers are satisfied about their destination, or are taken home by their friends. I need not say that this is necessary. These rules are stringently carried out even to harshness. Lookers on are not allowed within the building, so we have to stand amongst boarding-house keepers, snakes, land sharks, and others waiting to waylay the unwary. By elbowing and crushing you see the greenhorns (all new comers are called greenhorns), bundle under arm (strong narrow-toed old-country shoes), cord, or moleskin, or heavy Tweed trousers and vest, and likely a pigeon-pocket shooting-coat, staring round him, getting a first look at New York. He is asked a thousand questions about his "boarding" and luggage, and is a little astonished to find that he must pay 4s. for taking his box a distance it would be taken in England for sixpence or so. Those who have sense, leave their luggage at the Castle, and walk through the crowd as if they knew all about it. The less sensible are sometimes "fleeced." Luggage can be left at the Castle as long as a man pleases. If he leaves New York for any part of the country, by sending his luggage cheque, it will be forwarded. 
Amongst the crowd you will see the husband anxiously waiting for his wife and little ones. Something about him will point out his nativity, though he may have many pieces of Yankee "toggery," the beard covering the chin and lip, and clipped down to a point. But do as he will, it is evident he is a Johnny Bull. His wife has satisfied the officers, given in her name and destination, and is let loose, when the husband, regardless of the gazing crowd, welcomes her with a shake of the hand and a warm kiss, and lifts his children one by one in his arms to kiss them also. Such scenes bring tears from those not accustomed to them. 
I am sorry to say that, although the emigration depot called Castle Gardens is an institution that does much good, its usefulness is much more limited than it ought to be, and the officers in charge are anything but civil and courteous. On first landing in America, all emigrants wish themselves back ; there is no exception to this rule. I have asked very many, and all give the same answer. But a little while alters their mind, and they "build up a home in the land of the West." 

El abuelo llegó en el England, un barco de vapor imponente, hacia abril de 1866.
Viajaba solo con mi padre, que entonces tendría unos 6 años. La abuela había muerto siendo muy joven, hacía un par de años y el abuelo, con el sueño que compartió con ella de la tierra prometida, gastó todos sus ahorros en el pasaje y consiguió un pequeño camarote para los dos, rumbo a Estados Unidos.
Mi padre apenas recuerda nada del viaje, pero el abuelo me contaba que las 3 semanas que duró la travesía, apenas salieron del camarote. El pasaje que no iba en cabina estaba hacinado en las bodegas del barco. El cólera hizo mella en ellos y murieron cerca de 50 personas. Durante la cuarentena de 17 días ya en NY, murieron otras 150.
Su llegada a Castle Gardens fue un soplo de aire fresco después de su encierro.
Aquí comenzó trabajando en una fábrica como operario. Tenía conocimientos de mecánica y le resultaron muy útiles para salir adelante. Conoció a Maisy, que fué como otra madre para mi padre y gracias a su esfuerzo y trabajo, se establecieron en Manhattan.

Allí andaba, sentado en un banco, cuando uno de los transatlánticos estaba abriendo el embarque que llevaría a sus pasajeros a Irlanda.
Hijos, nietos, bisnietos de aquellos primeros emigrantes que volvían a conocer a sus familias que quedaron allí... las vueltas que da la vida...

- ¡Disculpe, señor!
- ¿A mí?
- Si, por favor. Le hemos visto con la cámara al cuello... quizá quiera hacernos una foto de recuerdo.

Ante mí, tenía a un par de encantadoras señoritas, ataviadas con abrigo de paño y sombreros escandalosos.

- Claro, sin problema, pero tardaré al menos un día en procesar la imagen. ¿se marchan ustedes?
- Oh, si. Nos vamos a Irlanda. Nuestro padre quiere que conozcamos la tierra que le vió nacer y nosotras estamos encantadas. No se preocupe por el tiempo, nos iremos en un par de días. Sólo hemos venido a dar un paseo para ver los barcos. ¿Donde podemos recoger la fotografía?
- Ah, estupendo. Pues pueden pasarse mañana por la redacción de la revista que regento. Quizá quieran dedicarme unos minutos y contarme su historia, o la de su padre, cuando llegó a Estados Unidos. Sería un buen artículo, ¿no les parece?

Y vosotros, ¿tenéis algún antepasado que emigró de su país de origen? cuéntanoslo y lo incluiremos en el próximo Modern Voices.

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Good morning dear readers, 
Once again, thank you so much for your encouraging and kind words about Modern Voices. 

Yesterday, I was looking for inspiration for a next article and I went to the harbour for a walk. 
  
Feeding the seagulls, watching the kids chasing them or simply being sit down in a bench looking at the ships is relaxing 

I remember my grand father' stories and his great feat aboard the the England in 1866, when he arrived to NY. He always had a newspaper clipping in his pocket, an article about those emigrants arriving for the first time. He had it from a friend of a friend and it was what made him decide to leave everything behind him and go for his american dream. 
  
Here you have the article. 

Credits: http://www.immigrantships.net/newsarticles/1860_newsarticles.html 

Aberystwyth Observer 
19 March 1864 
NOTES FOR AMERICAN EMIGRANTS. 

"The emigration to New York continues in full force, and as a working man, in a letter which he has sent to England, has some useful remarks on "Castle Gardens", the landing-place of emigrants, we extract them:— Emigration is as rife as ever to this country from 2,000 to 3,000 a week arrive in New York alone, the great proportion being English and Irish, with comparatively few Scotch, and a good mixture of Germans. It is a strange sight to watch, the landing of emigrants; it touches a "Britisher's" heart, and brings to his mind his own arrival. One cannot help noticing the great number of mechanics (or mechanists); the "iron-mouldy" trousers is a never-failing guide. On the arrival of the City of Washington and the China, it was remarked that most of the men appeared to be mechanics, or men employed in iron manufactories. Strangers are not allowed inside "Castle Gardens," as the place where emigrants are landed is called. A floating wharf, tugged by a small steamer, brings from the ship the 500 or 600 emigrants usually brought out by each steamer. The steamer lies out in the stream. 
Persons having friends in the vessel, upon bringing a note from the office of the company owning the ship, are admitted to a railing until the person wanted is found. Women are not allowed to leave the "Castle" until the officers are satisfied about their destination, or are taken home by their friends. I need not say that this is necessary. These rules are stringently carried out even to harshness. Lookers on are not allowed within the building, so we have to stand amongst boarding-house keepers, snakes, land sharks, and others waiting to waylay the unwary. By elbowing and crushing you see the greenhorns (all new comers are called greenhorns), bundle under arm (strong narrow-toed old-country shoes), cord, or moleskin, or heavy Tweed trousers and vest, and likely a pigeon-pocket shooting-coat, staring round him, getting a first look at New York. He is asked a thousand questions about his "boarding" and luggage, and is a little astonished to find that he must pay 4s. for taking his box a distance it would be taken in England for sixpence or so. Those who have sense, leave their luggage at the Castle, and walk through the crowd as if they knew all about it. The less sensible are sometimes "fleeced." Luggage can be left at the Castle as long as a man pleases. If he leaves New York for any part of the country, by sending his luggage cheque, it will be forwarded. 
 Amongst the crowd you will see the husband anxiously waiting for his wife and little ones. Something about him will point out his nativity, though he may have many pieces of Yankee "toggery," the beard covering the chin and lip, and clipped down to a point. But do as he will, it is evident he is a Johnny Bull. His wife has satisfied the officers, given in her name and destination, and is let loose, when the husband, regardless of the gazing crowd, welcomes her with a shake of the hand and a warm kiss, and lifts his children one by one in his arms to kiss them also. Such scenes bring tears from those not accustomed to them. 
I am sorry to say that, although the emigration depot called Castle Gardens is an institution that does much good, its usefulness is much more limited than it ought to be, and the officers in charge are anything but civil and courteous. On first landing in America, all emigrants wish themselves back ; there is no exception to this rule. I have asked very many, and all give the same answer. But a little while alters their mind, and they "build up a home in the land of the West." 

My grand father arrived in the England, a great steamer, around april 1866 
He travelled with my father, who was 6 y.o. My grand mother had died a couple of years ago and my grand father, making real her dream of the promised land, spent all his savings and could get a little cabin in the England for him and my father towards U.S. 
My father hardly remembers anything about the trip, but my grandfather told me that the 3 weeks the trip lasted, they didn't leave their cabin. The passengers who were not in cabins, were all piled in the hold of the ship. Most of them suffered of cholera and nearly 50 people died during the journey. While in quarantine, once in NY, other 150 people died. 

Their arrival to Castle Gardens was like a breath of fresh air, after that confinement. 
He started to work in a factory. He had a deep knowledge of mechanics and he used them to get ahead. He met Maisy, who was like a mother for my father and thanks to their work and efforts, they managed to happily live in Manhattan. 
  
I was there, in the docks, when one of the ocean liner was opening the boarding to Ireland. 
Children, grandchildren, greatgrandchildren... of those first emigrants that came back to meet their families... The twists and turns that life takes ... 

- Excuse me, Sir! 
- Me?? 
- Yes please. We saw your camera ... could you please take us a photo? 
  
I was in front of a couple of charming ladies, dressed with great coats and odd hats. 

- For sure, no problem, but it takes at least a day for processing the image. Are you leaving in this ship? 
- Oh, we're going to Ireland, but not in this ship. Our father wants us to meet our family there and to know the beautiful land where he was born. Don't worry about the processing time. We will leave in a couple of days. We only wanted to see the ships and go for a walk. Where could we pick up the picture? 
- Oh, great. You can pick the photo in my editorial office. Maybe you can spend a couple of minutes and tell me your story, or your father' story, when he arrived to the States. It could be a great article, don't you think?? 

 And what about you? any of your relatives emigrated from their homeland? Tell us about it and we will include your letters in a next issue of Modern Voices. 

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The Whatevers es un proyecto creativo y literario creado por Cat Scanlon, Vicki Chrisman y Nathalie Kalbach en 2012. Este año,  Martha Richardson y yo, nos unimos al equipo

¿Has estado alguna vez en un mercadillo y tener una extraña sensación al mirar fotos del año de la polca?. A veces, hay alguna pista de la historia de esas personas, la ciudad, el nombre del fotógrafo, alguna dedicatoria detrás, pero ya está. ¿Ya esta? desconocidos y olvidados sin nombre y sin historia.

Así funciona:

• Vicki, Cat, Martha, Nat y yo, nos hemos comprometido durante un año a darles una historia a 12 fotos de los "Whatevers" que hemos elegido.
• Cada mes - a ser posible el día 15- cada una de nosotras subirá un proyecto artístico con su historia particular para la foto elegida ese mes.
• Si te apetece, puedes "jugar con nosotras". Tendremos la foto del mes disponible para descargar y así puedas enseñarnos tu versión de los Whatevers. La foto la pondremos al final de nuestros respectivos post en los blogs - no en facebook.
• No hay normas para la historia que cuentes - puede ser divertida, triste, impresionante, desgarradora... Lo que sea.
• No hay normas en la duración o forma de la historia - puede ser una simple frase, un ensayo, un poema, un culebrón... lo que sea.
• No hay normas para el tipo de trabajo artístico que hagas - puede ser una página de scrapbook, un proyecto alterado, una página de artjournal... lo que sea.
• Aunque SI hay una norma: Si te bajas la foto, tienes que enlazarnos y enseñarnos tu historia.
• Estas fotos son de nuestra colección particular y son exclusivamente para uso personal. Si quieres utilizarlas para una publicación, ya sea un libro, una revista tanto impresa como digital, por favor, pídenos permiso.
• Si quieres participar, tendremos un enlace de inlinkz para cada post de los whatevers.
• También puedes acompañarnos en la página de facebook The Whatevers -Facebook Page

The Whatevers – is a creative story telling project founded by Cat Scanlon, Vicki Chrisman and Nathalie Kalbach in 2012. This year, also  Martha Richardson and me joined the team.

Have you ever been to a flea market and then had this weird sensation of those faces from long ago times looking at you? Sometimes you find a little trace of the history on those photos, the name and city of the photographer, a scribbled note or year on the back of the photo…but that is it. There is no more ….Really…no more? They are forgotten as long as they have no name and no story…

Here is how it works

• Vicki, Cat, Nat, Martha and I have made a one-year commitment to each other and picked twelve photos with Whatevers whom we will give a story.
• Every month – if possible always on the 15th –  each of us will do a post with an individual story that goes along for us with the same photo.
• If you want you can play along and we will have the photo for you to download and show us your version of The Whatevers. The photo will be posted at the end of our blogposts- not on Facebook!
• There is no rules to the story itself- it can be funny, sad, uplifting, breathtaking- WHATEVER
• There is no rules on the length or the form of the story- it can be a short sentence, an essay, a poem or a soap opera – WHATEVER
• There is no rules on the artform you choose – it can be a scrapbook layout, an altered art project, an artjournal page – WHATEVER
• Here is a rule though: if you take the photo you have to link back to us and show us your story.
• These pictures are from our personal stash and are for personal use for you only! If you want to use them for a publication whether a book or magazine in print or digital form please ask for permission!
• If you want to participate we’ll have a linky list for each Whatever Post.
• You can also join our The Whatevers -Facebook Page

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Aquí tienes la foto de los whatevers de este mes, que puedes descargarte. 
Y ya sabes, si juegas con nosotras, deja tu link para que leamos tu historia.

Here you have our Whatevers of this month, for you to download.
Remember, if you play along us, give us your link so we can read your story.

No te pierdas lo que han hecho mis compis.
Do not miss all the other stories

Nathalie Kalbach
Martha Richardson
Catherine Scanlon
Vicki Chrisman