Having viewed "Liberty," our next ferry stop was Ellis Island, about a 15-minute ferry ride. From my family history research, I knew relatives had emigrated to America, and as the ferry approached the pier, I speculated what they must have thought as they disembarked in front of the impressively ornate reception building. Certainly as "country folk," this would have been somewhat of a culture shock for them but no doubt a great relief to reach dry land after a long time at sea. However, if they thought that they’d achieved their goal, they may well have been mistaken, because admission to the "land of plenty" was not automatic and the staff in immigration control would scrutinise these would-be citizens for any telltale signs of frailty, insanity, or work shyness. If there were any hints of problems, the traveller would either be held in the hospital block (a large isolation block on the opposite side of the port from the reception hall) or separately pending being deported. Indeed, it is reported that many hundreds died in isolation or on the return journey to Europe.
As we were making our way to the reception hall, we got chatting to one of the guards about the history of Ellis Island. He "confidentially" told us that may immigrants did not get fair and efficient treatment from immigration officers who were prone to bribery (to ensure "fast-tracking") and did a good service in selling overpriced travel tickets to the vulnerable and naive visitor. This was not, he told me in a hushed whisper, "what our government wants you to hear" (interestingly, I have since read this "confidential" information in a standard guidebook!).
The entrance hall to the reception building was a large open space, and it must have been awe-inspiring to the weary traveller who would then have been forced into line to jump through a wide variety of interviews and checks. I guess they would have been totally intimidated and some would have answered incorrectly with the resultant deportation. There’s a large display of "abandoned" luggage in the refurbished building (it cost £160 million to carry out the work to re-open as the Ellis Island Immigration Museum in 1990), and there’s loads of plaques, some recorded oral histories, and statues recounting the fascinating story behind the island and its 100 million anxious visitors.
Outside, the "American immigrant Wall of Honour" weaves its way around the footpaths overlooking the island of Manhattan. On our visit the setting sun cast eerie shadows on this copper wall engraved with over 600,000 names. We recognised the odd one as our distant relatives, a spooky experience.
On the ferry journey back, the skyline appeared to be on fire with the most superb red sunset that I’ve ever seen. The moon was as low as it could get, nestling between the high-rise buildings, and passengers were heard to shout, "That’s a true Kodak moment." Indeed it was!