Part 16 (1/2)
”Whoa-there's the Statue of Liberty!” Sam shouted a few minutes later. Sure enough, the ferry was headed toward Liberty Island, home of the Statue of Liberty, to drop off tourists there. Maeve and Katani stared in awe at the huge, beautiful statue of the lady with the torch who had welcomed so many to the sh.o.r.es of this country.
”Wow!” Katani said to Maeve. ”She's so beautiful. I just never knew that she would be that beautiful.”
Maeve nodded. ”And much bigger than you'd expect.”
”Did you know,” Sam said, ”that you can climb up to Lady Liberty's spiked cap? There are lots of stairs inside. I bet it's a mile high!”
”And I'll bet you have to be pretty fit to get there!” Mr. Taylor laughed. ”I tried it once-got halfway up and I was wiped! And that was a while ago...when I was still in shape!”
”Well, I'm gonna get in shape so I can run all the way!” Sam boasted.
Mr. Taylor laughed again. ”Running, huh? Mighty ambitious of you, son.”
Sam went on, ”Dad, come on! I'm going to be an Army dude, right? And if you are in the Marines or the Navy SEALS or the Army Rangers you HAVE to run all the way up. I think it's the law...”
”Okay, Sam,” Mr. Taylor said. ”But you might want to do a little more research just to be on the safe side.”
Maeve and Katani smiled at each other. Little brothers could be so weird, but very entertaining.
Twenty minutes later, the motor of the ferry slowed to a low hum. ”Here we are!” Mr. Taylor announced. He helped the girls and Sam down onto the dock on Ellis Island. Signs everywhere directed them toward the main building, and they trailed in along with dozens of others.
Maeve groaned when she saw that the signs read: ”Immigration Museum.”
”Museum?” she whispered to Katani. ”Is that code for 'boring', or what?”
”Maybe it won't be so bad,” Katani whispered back. ”I can't wait to hear about the Museum of Fine Arts adventure.”
”But this isn't art, it's history!” Maeve insisted. ”My worst subject, next to math.”
She was already worried about the thrilled, absorbed look on Sam's face as he walked next to her. If Sam loved it, it was a sure bet that Maeve would hate it!
The tour started with a movie that talked about all the immigrants who came on s.h.i.+ps, often with nothing but the clothes on their backs, dreaming of a new life here in America. The movie explained about the hards.h.i.+p of crossing the Atlantic and the difference between the wealthy pa.s.sengers who could afford luxurious suites and the working cla.s.s people who were crammed four to a cabin and often had to share their quarters with rats. A lot of the time, a family could afford pa.s.sage for only one person, usually the father, who came to America, worked very hard to save money, and then sent for the rest of his family to join him. This could take years.
Then the movie went on to talk about Ellis Island itself-how it was the port through which the immigrants were processed, how their long European names were often misunderstood and misspelled by Customs officials who stamped their papers, and how consequently, they ended up with new, Anglicized names that were easier to spell but that had never belonged to them before.
Of course, the immigrants had to get jobs as soon as possible, but many were discriminated against in this new home where they hoped their lives would be better. The film showed signs in shop windows: ”No Irish Need Apply.”
Maeve looked at the jiggling, black-and-white footage of the people going through the immigration lines and felt a connection to these people. What did they have except hope? And yet, with nothing but that, they sailed across a dangerous ocean and started from scratch in a country where most of them couldn't even speak the language, and often the best jobs they could get were in sweatshops where they sewed or did laundry or other menial work for ten to twelve hours a day. They had no unions to protect their working conditions, and the bosses paid their men practically nothing-the children and women even less. Still, they came to America in droves and felt they were making things better for their families.
And they did, Maeve told herself. She knew that somewhere back in her family was a relative who came to America from Ireland. Suddenly she understood why. And just as suddenly, she had no more worries that this would be a boring day.
When the movie was over, the guide called out, ”Come see our Immigrant Wall of Honor! You may even see the name of someone you know.”
”Let's take a look, girls,” Mr. Taylor invited them. ”You know, Katani, Maeve's great-grandmother-my grandmother-came here from Ireland during the Great Depression in the 1930s. She had a pretty rough time. But I sure am glad she stuck it out!”
They followed the other tourists outside where the Wall of Honor was filled with names. Soon they could hear others oohing and aahing as they found familiar names.
”I've got one!” Sam shouted. ”Right here, near the bottom!”
He pointed to a tiny line of carving. The others bent down to look. Sure enough, it said ”John Taylor.”
”Good, Sam,” Mr. Taylor praised him. ”And could you find your great-grandmother, Maeve Reilly?”
This time it was Katani who found the name further down the wall among the Rs. ”There she is!” she exclaimed, pointing carefully at the name on the wall. Sam and Maeve put their fingers on it too. It made them feel more connected to the woman who had come all the way from Ireland so long ago.
”Our Maeve was named for her, of course,” Mr. Taylor told Katani as they sat down in the food court for lunch. ”In fact, Maeve, I have something for you. I brought it with me hoping we'd have a cance to come to the Immigration Museum so I could give it to you here.”
He reached into the inside pocket of his coat and brought out a soiled envelope. He looked at it for a moment, then pa.s.sed it across to Maeve. ”Here, honey.”
Maeve took the envelope curiously. She had no idea what it was, or why her father wanted her to have it. The postmark on the envelope was written in faded blue ink, and though it was almost illegible, Maeve did see that it was addressed to ”Mrs. Reilly” in County Cork, Ireland.
She looked at the return address. In even fainter letters, it said: ”M. Reilly, New York, New York.” Maeve felt quick tears sting her eyes. ”It's from my great-grandmother,” she said.
”Yes, it is,” her father said. ”It's a pretty special letter.”
Maeve fumbled with the envelope and drew out a sheet of discolored paper that seemed very fragile with the pa.s.sing of time. Carefully unfolding it, she glanced at the cramped handwriting inked across the page, hesitated, and then began: ”Dear Mother, It has been only a month since I arrived here in New York, but it seems so much longer without you. I did not realize a girl of seventeen still needs her mother so much, and having an ocean between us makes it so hard.”
Maeve shook her head a little, trying to clear out all the emotion. Everyone at the table was motionless, even Sam. Their eyes were intent on her. She took a deep breath and continued reading. ”I have been fortunate to obtain work right away in the same office building as my friend Maud. I clean all the floors below ten, and Maud cleans all the floors ten and above.”
Katani shook her head in disbelief. ”Wow! She was a cleaning woman. And only seventeen...”
Maeve went on. ”Here in New York, my education does not impress anyone. I had to take whatever job I could, and I'm thankful I could get it. It pays five dollars a week, which pays for my room. It's not much of a room-a sixth floor walkup, cold water, of course, and c.o.c.kroaches, so many c.o.c.kroaches-but it's a roof over my head, and I'm thankful for that, too.”
Maeve glanced around the table. No one spoke; no one even breathed. They were all hanging on the words of the girl who wrote this letter so long ago. ”I did have a bit of luck, though, on the voyage over. I met a young man who also came from Ireland to make his fortune in New York. His name is John Taylor, and he's already asked me to marry him.
Of course, John is not able to support a wife yet. He earns only seven dollars a week working on the construction site downtown, but it's steady work, so far. He's a good worker and willing to do whatever they ask, so they may keep him on for awhile. But work is hard to find and keep these days-there's a depression on, everyone always reminds me-and it may be years before John and I can get married. It will be much longer, I know, before we can afford a flat for ourselves. We may live in one room, but it will be under our own steam, and I'm fine with that.
The air in New York always smells sooty, nothing like the crisp, clean air of Cork. I miss that, and I miss you and my brothers, Mother. Please tell them not to worry-even though I'd like to marry John, I won't until I've earned enough to pay their pa.s.sage over, as I promised before I left. I'll keep that promise.
I hope someday to see you again, Mother. Please write to me. And I'll write to you as often as I can afford the stamps. Your loving daughter, Maeve.”
It was very quiet at the table when Maeve finished reading. Her eyes were swimming with tears. She felt as though she could hear the voice of her great-grandmother, that young, hopeful Irish girl. How brave she was! Maeve thought. And how amazing, to come here and work with no expectations except to pay for her brothers to join her!
Katani was moved also. ”She was remarkable,” she said at last. ”Imagine! Living like that in a sixth floor walkup with cold water...”
Mr. Taylor nodded. ”Strangely enough, the very area she lived in later became a pretty fancy address right in Greenwich Village. If I'm not mistaken, Katani, it's only a few blocks from where your cousin Mich.e.l.le lives now.”
Katani began to smile. ”I'll bet Maeve Reilly would have thought that was pretty funny.”
Mr. Taylor smiled too. ”She had a wonderful sense of humor, though it's not apparent in that letter. I heard stories about her youth when I was a boy. I always thought my nana was s.p.u.n.ky and brave and wonderful. And Maeve is turning out to be just like her.”
Katani looked at Maeve across the table. ”She is, Mr. Taylor!” she declared with conviction. ”She really is!”
The Perfect Gifts It was two o'clock when they took the ferry back from Ellis Island. Everyone was quieter than usual, thinking of the girl who had written that letter of hope so long ago. Maeve, who put the letter in her jacket pocket so she could feel it close to her, touched her pocket every so often, just to remind herself of the girl who had come before her.
Mr. Taylor suggested they do some shopping for souvenirs. Katani eagerly said yes; she was anxious to find something perfect for Kelley, as well as her other sisters and the rest of the BSG.