Aboard the SS Corinthian
One Day from the Port of New York
June 1883
Captain Andrew McGowan yawned and rubbed his eyes as he fidgeted in his desk chair. It had been a long day and a long voyage. That evening, he had attended the formal dinner for the first-class passengers. He never tired of the opulent dinners with the cream of society. Ever charming and perpetually witty, attending these functions made him feel like royalty in spite of his humble origins. When he wore his captain’s uniform, especially the dinner dress uniform, he felt such pride in his work. Sitting in his swivel chair at his writing desk, he remained in his dinner dress for now. The next day, they would arrive in New York after nearly a month at sea. A thrifty Scotsman at heart, it pleased him that operations aboard the Corinthian had gone smoothly. He was certain that the owners of the Anchor Line of London would also be pleased that he would be arriving with a full passenger roster. He concerned himself mainly with the twenty first-class passengers and made sure that the 1,250 steerage passengers were overseen by his ship’s purser, James Talbott.
The ship had picked up the bulk of the steerage passengers in Marseilles. McGowan had heard that the owners of the Anchor Line, ever eager to keep the passenger beds filled, had made an arrangement with the wealthy Baron de Hirsch. De Hirsch, the noted philanthropist, had been financially sponsoring many Russian Jews in their quest to emigrate from Russia to South America, Palestine, and the United States. He had paid the passage for 268 of these refugees to sail to New York City. While loading these passengers, McGowan had also received instructions to sail on to Naples to pick up 470 Italian immigrants. After weighing anchor in Naples, the SS Corinthian departed for New York at its maximum speed of eleven knots. That was the last time that McGowan had given any thought to the passengers who would be jammed into steerage.
As part of his nightly ritual, the captain retired to his cabin and recorded in the ship’s log all the important events of the day. By and large, it had been a routine, uneventful voyage. He had requested that his purser do a health, safety, and comfort inspection of the steerage spaces in anticipation of their arrival in New York the following day. The new United States Immigration Act weighed heavily on McGowan’s mind as he wrote in his journal that night. The act required that all immigrants undergo a medical examination at the port of departure to the United States. The law mandated that the steamship companies vaccinate, disinfect, and medically examine immigrants to certify their health before departing from ports such as Marseilles. Those immigrants arriving at the United States too sick to be admitted to the country would be returned to their ports of origin at the expense of the steamship company. This possibility had been worrying McGowan as they approached New York.
McGowan knew that these steerage passengers had not undergone any real medical evaluation and that some of them appeared very unhealthy as they boarded the ship in both Marseilles and Naples. Before departing Europe, he was also acutely aware that the sanitary conditions in steerage were suboptimal. Anchor Line simply did not believe that any appropriate budgeting for steerage was cost effective, and all of the line’s captains lived with this reality. His concerns had always been the first-class passengers, and he could readily attest to the fact that these passengers had been more than pleased with both the accommodations and the pandering courtesies that had been extended to them by the crew of the Corinthian. Hopefully, the results of Talbot’s inspection wouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary for steerage.
McGowan had just poured himself a glass of sherry when he heard a polite knocking on his cabin door. “Come in,” he ordered.
James Talbot entered, closing the door behind him as he saluted. “Good evening, Captain,” he said. McGowan could see a look of concern hidden beneath the smile on his purser’s face.
“Sit down, James,” he ordered, as he proceeded to pour a glass of sherry for his assistant. He went back to writing in his log and assured the young man that he would be with him shortly.
“There!” he said, slamming the log shut and turning in his swivel desk chair to his purser. “I would like to propose a toast to a successful voyage, James,” he said as he raised his glass. The two men clinked their glasses together and downed the sherry. “And now, how did your inspection go?”
Talbot straightened himself in his chair and cleared his throat. “Well, sir,” he began, “they are a filthy lot indeed. The conditions down there are appalling. The sanitary buckets are overflowing, and I don’t know when most of them last bathed. Of course, they look so funny the way they dress. I don’t know who is more bizarre, the Jews or the Italians.”
“All that aside, James, you probably know I have one concern. Are any of them too ill to pass a medical exam? I don’t want to be responsible for having to ship anyone back to Europe. Tomorrow, we anchor in the harbor in the quarantine station, and I’m told that three medical inspectors will come aboard for the exams. All those cleared will have to undergo another exam at Castle Garden when the ship disembarks. Are there any surprises I should know about now?”
Talbot stared at the deck for a few seconds before answering. “A few of them appear sickly. They have a fever, and the translator told me that they are complaining of headaches. Having said that, they all look so scruffy and dirty that the sick ones may not stand out, unless the medical examination is very detailed.”
After he spoke, Talbot again stared at the deck. McGowan got the distinct impression that his young assistant had more concerns than those he had already addressed. Talbot had always been loyal to his captain and he found it almost painful to be the bearer of bad news. After looking at the young man for about a minute, McGowan stood, put his hand on the purser’s right shoulder, and patted it gently. He then walked over to his bedside safe and began turning the tumblers. In a few seconds, the safe door opened, and the captain pulled out a small strongbox. He proceeded to count out five hundred dollars in United States currency. He placed it on the table next to the purser’s folded hands.
Seeing the money, the purser looked up at his captain and noticed his rueful expression. After what seemed an eternity, the captain spoke. “James, you control the ship’s finances as purser, but I have a discretionary fund that Anchor Line provides each of its captains. Take this money. When we arrive at the quarantine station tomorrow, use it to ensure that the medical examinations aren’t too detailed. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”
At first, the young man didn’t reply. Finally, he uttered a weak, “Yes, sir.” Although he was a realist like his captain, he was also a devout Christian and felt conflicted over the plight of these immigrants. While he had no particular affinity for the Jews, he did pity them and ultimately prayed that they would accept Jesus Christ as their savior. The Italians — they were Christians, though papists. Still, Talbot understood what needed to be done. He nodded in assent once more.
“Good then,” said the captain. “Now leave me while I finish my paperwork. And thank you, James.”
* * *
The next day, shortly after the SS Corinthian anchored in New York harbor in the quarantine station, two medical examiners came aboard. Theirs would be an overwhelming task, even under the best of circumstances. They also had another ship to inspect that day, and at the last minute, the third member of their inspection team sent word that he had suddenly become ill and wouldn’t be able to work that day. The other two medical examiners silently cursed him. They knew that his absence would make their efforts nearly impossible.
They did the best they could, but in reality, they performed only a cursory examination of the over one thousand steerage passengers. In due time, they issued the medical clearance papers. The Corinthian was authorized to proceed and anchor at Castle Garden, the final disembarkation point. There would be one more medical clearance once the passengers came ashore before they would be allowed to enter the United States.
Castle Garden was a massive structure, originally built as a fort to protect New York harbor. It was constructed on a small island adjacent to the southern tip of Manhattan Island. In 1855, New York State took over Castle Garden for use as an immigration processing center. A harsh environment for the new arrivals, it didn’t seem much different from the steerage conditions that they had just left. When they finished their processing, they slept on hard floors, were poorly fed, and often had to pay twice for their baggage. Once outside the Castle Garden complex, thieves and money changers waited, ready to prey on them.
Fortunately, for the Corinthian steerage passengers, the entire processing procedure proved to be surprisingly cursory. The medical inspectors failed to notice the passengers who were sweating profusely and appeared ill. After several days, the immigration bureaucracy cleared the entire complement of Italians and Russian Jews for entry into the United States. Later that day, officials herded all 268 of them into one of Castle Garden’s great rooms. There, at the front of the room, stood a solitary well-dressed man holding a sign. It read, “Welcome to the United States of America,” in large Russian letters.
Abraham Glasser looked out over the crowd of immigrants assembled before him. He was born and raised in New York, and whenever he met a crowd of newly arrived Jewish immigrants, he always thanked God for the circumstances of his birth. He was from an upper middle class family and fluent in several languages. While he wasn’t an overly religious man, Glasser had great empathy for his fellow Jews. It was this sense of ethnic pride and identity that had led him to assume chairmanship of the United Hebrew Charities in New York City. The assembled crowd appeared to him to be a ragged-looking lot. The men all wore beards and frock coats, their hair about their ears rolled into curls, called pay is. The women all wore scarves covering their hair. In contrast, Glasser was clean-shaven and dressed in a three-piece suit with a high-collared shirt. A golden watch chain went from his left vest pocket to his right. He looked every inch the successful American businessman.
Shortly after the buzz from the assembled crowd died down, Glasser cleared his throat and began to speak in perfect Russian. “Ladies and Gentleman, landsmen, welcome to New York City and welcome to the United States of America! I am Abraham Glasser of the United Hebrew Charities, and it is my pleasure and honor to be the first of our people to welcome you to your new home. You may have heard the streets are paved with gold here. Well, they’re not, but they are paved with something you’ve never experienced before today. They are paved with freedom and liberty. We do not have pogroms in America!” At this point, loud murmurs of assent rippled through the crowd. The new arrivals were obviously pleased with the remarks.
“Our first order of business will be to get you all settled into housing here in Manhattan. The United Hebrew Charities has arranged for you to be boarded in eight boarding houses located in the Lower East Side of Manhattan. You will be among fellow Jews, among friends. I will now proceed to divide you into eight groups corresponding to your boarding house assignments.” At this point, several of Glasser’s assistants entered the room, each bearing a sign listing an address. Although the signs were in Russian, Glasser also knew that a few of the new arrivals were illiterate. “When I call your family name, please proceed to the gentleman holding the first sign.”
Before long, the new immigrants had been arranged into the eight housing groups and were ready to be transported to their new homes. Glasser beamed with pride as he watched them leave the front of the great hall, each of them ecstatic to be in their new country. However, he couldn’t help notice that some of them did not appear healthy. In fact, a few appeared to be acutely ill.