ellis island
[Part Three: From the Baltic]
Slowly, the ship parted the waters to the New York City harbor, after which the stubborn young Russian boy first saw the famous Statue of Liberty, and nearby Ellis Island was within walking distance. arms, the most famous gossip on board the ship. it would be where he would pass, like thousands of people who come to the United States.
As he went through the processing on Ellis Island, he first underwent a physical exam, at which point, to his surprise, he discovered that he had a rash on his stomach, legs, and upper arms. The authorities were withdrawn a bit and ready to return Anatolee to the ship and return to Russia, when at the right moment, she yelled in what little English she knew, which she had learned on the Jewish ship: “No, no scik, excited , excited, no scik, no scik! (almost in a panic) “, but somehow he kept a smile on his face through all of this, which spread from ear to ear, which might have been the deciding factor. factor for the Captain, who was the doctor at the facility, looked him suspiciously in the eye, Anatolee almost froze when he did, and a tear filled the edge of his left eye: “Ok, ok … hmmm,” he said. the doctor, a little unsure, and motioned for him to go on to the next inspector. It was an electrifying event, moment to say the least.
[August 3, 1916] And then August came, it was August 1, when Anatolee Silluak arrived in St. Paul, Minnesota. He had witnessed his father’s death, a trip across the Atlantic, Ellis Island, and a train ride from New York City to St. Paul, Minnesota. He would never move again and he would never return to Russia. In fact, he would never leave Minnesota other than to return to Europe, to fight in World War I, with the US Army, in 1917-18; thereafter, at the age of twenty, he would live out his days in Minnesota, the remaining 63 years, and die at the age of 83. He would never drive a car, and he would never complain about hardships in America. never as hard as where it had gone
The slaughter of the pig
[Mary’s Place–1916, first week of August]
The thoughts raced through Anatolee’s mind, like cornstalks fading in the fields outside of St. Paul. He needed a job, money, a lot of images filled his brain, and he had a place to stay for a while, for a week or two weeks no more, a sponsor had made it known to the Ellis Island authorities that there were homes for immigrants, where they could stay for a limited time as long as they had the money to pay for it. And he stayed with a Polish woman named Mary and her sister, brother, and grandfather.
The word kept coming to his mind, ‘now what’, and it was always what his father had said: “Work.” They sent him to the cattle pens in South St. Paul and he got a job instantly. In fact, they put him to work slaughtering pigs on the day he requested: pushing pigs through wooden channels and hitting them on the head with a bat, when they got to the end: killing them. Sometimes he had to jump like the other boys and push the pigs with his hands, hit them with his stick, kick them to move. They could smell death, and they screamed and screamed, and thus, for each other, a new death was coming. They tried to gore some men; these were three to four hundred pound pigs, some less and some more. Dangerous while moving like little hippos.
As the first week progressed, he ended up in various jobs, inside the pens, one of them in what they called the Rose Room, where they burned all the excess fat and skin and cow skulls and bones – ribs and other bones. unused, items that no one wanted to use, the leftover guts that were not used in hot dogs or sausages – all burned and used as fertilizer. He emptied it into an area similar to an oven. He had to open the steel door on the floor, heavy as a bank door, it had to be, he had to keep the smell of death inside, the putrid smell of cremated bones, and his odors seeped quickly through the rounded hole until it closed again, and then the stench circulated the air inside the room, never leaving it, then the cart backed up, had to pull the cart with all those bones and heads and guts and legs and feet, and empty it into the hell smelling pit, it had hell fire in it – flames gushing out into the open space the moment you opened the iron door. However, it paid well.
They also put it on the belt, as they called it, where it would have to cut the pork loin, which was used for bacon, and then they moved it to the sliced bacon department.
On the way to work, he noticed now, on the last day of the week, the clay cliffs along the Mississippi continuing his journey to South St. Paul. The High Bridge that was built in the 1880s further down to the other city, Minneapolis. There, along the banks, was what was called the dike; people lived on that piece of land of land that didn’t seem like much. Also along the banks of the river, he noticed that some blacks were fishing for catfish, large catfish, that lived in the Rondo area of St. Paul, said the driver of the Model T.
[By and by, Anatolee would save up money and quit this job, and get into painting houses and inside buildings; and the restaurant business, but that was much further down his road–I have leaped, sorry, we should stay on track here. For now he would stay at swifts for several years, learn how to paint, and then go on to contract painting for a private business’ in St. Paul.]
Jackson Street
[The Brandt’s–1916, third week of August]
Anatolee was in awe of the cars he saw in town, they had truly invented a new era, yet he would never drive one, nor did he have any desire to do so. He lived with Mary and his sister Ella, they had the bedrooms, as did his brother and grandfather. He was sleeping on the living room couch and sometimes on the porch couch. The girls he never talked to much to, most of the time he was gone, just like them, but it was only the third week of August: besides, this was not a matchmaking situation.
He had been advised by a young swift painter, Earnest, that his mother owned a four-story building on Jackson Street across from Market Place, so on the Saturday of the third week in August, he had ventured to go there to visit him. see it. As he approached Market Place, looking at Ms. Brandt’s Place across the street, about to cross it, he noticed that it was quite a large market. Right there they sold fresh chickens by cutting off their heads. He liked that, because then he knew they were fresh. And the women were gathering the feathers to make pillows out of the feathers. Also, he noticed that a butcher was cutting meat, and another man was selling honeycombs and others were selling cabbages and carrots, tomatoes, potatoes, and fruits. A man was selling coffee and sandwiches. Several women sold bread. Others sold flowers to plant and small trees. You would have to use this market (and eventually, you would buy your Christmas trees, along with everything else. You would shop there from April to October every year thereafter).
Ms. Bryant, a widow was the owner, and she was sitting outside on her porch, when Anatolee showed up, she already knew he was interested in the place and was supposed to come. He rocked back and forth in the old rocking chair, watching him get closer, the barber shop across the street, and Tony is the shoemaker, next to his house. Then when Anatolee got to the first of the four steps that led to the open porch, she stood up and said:
“Mr. Anatolee,” he said, not knowing his last name. “My son said he would stop you at the place, what to see, it is just an efficient apartment, a room, not much else, the bathroom is in the hall for others to use, like you, just like the fridge in the hall for everyone to put their items in, and the iceman comes once a week, everyone has to pay more for that, you know. Don’t use all the space now. I live on the other side of the building, but it’s cheap and it will do. for whatever you need “.
Sometimes things just fall into place, and you think that everything must be as it is supposed to be: that is, all doors open, and when they do they give you confirmation, this is where you are supposed to be. It works in the opposite way to what I suppose, that is, if nothing works out, it may be telling you something different; You shouldn’t be where you are But this confirmed everything for Anatolee, this was where she was supposed to be at the moment.
And then they both sat down and talked for a while about the rules and where he was from. It was a confusing conversation, because Anatolee knew less than 100 words, but with gestures and sonic affections he was understood. Some people have the ability to read other people no matter what language they use, and Ms. Brandt had that second sight.
It was hot, late afternoon when they saw Mary and Ella walking toward Market Place, across Jackson Street. They saw Anatolee, waved, and crossed the street for a quick chat. But before they knew it, it was 9:00 PM, dusk, and everything was closing in.
“My God,” said Ella, looking at the market, not buying anything, it was closed.
“Yes,” Mary said, not surprised. Because both Ella and Anatolee grew fond of each other that afternoon, and eventually they would marry. It was that very, very long walk back to Cayuga Street, that Ella actually met Anatolee as Tony, it was at least a two mile walk.