Sholem Aleichem - Tevye the Dairyman and Motl the Cantor's Son

Our friend Pinni got his revenge on the Heissen tailor. Although in his heart Pinni despised Ellis Island for detaining us, he wouldn’t show it to the Heissen tailor. To hell with him! Instead he even rubbed it in: “So, Mr. Tailor? Didn’t I say that America is not Russia? In America they don’t tolerate shams or tricks or cheating. Long live Columbus!”

But still he caught it from my mother, and even more so from Bruche. His wife Teibl added a little dig. In fact, the women almost scratched his eyes out for laughing at someone who was bleeding. My mother befriended the abandoned wife, becoming like a sister to her. Ellis Island will be sending the abandoned wife back, but the man who pretended to be her husband won’t be let off so easily. In the meantime they’re both detained, and my mother is beside herself.

D.

A young, innocent-looking wife is going to Boston to rejoin her husband. With her is her little girl with curly hair, pretty as a picture, named Ketzele. The girl’s real name is Kayla, after her grandmother, but they call her Ketzele. She isn’t yet three years old, but she runs around and talks and sings and dances. We met them on Prince Albert . Everyone there was in love with this child. They hugged and kissed her and passed her around from hand to hand. Ketzele! Ketzele! We’d become very attached to her young mother too. She never left my mother’s side for a moment and poured her heart out to her and read us all her husband’s letters. They hadn’t seen each other for over three years. He’s never seen his child. He dreams of her day and night and can’t let himself believe that he’ll soon set eyes on his daughter, his Ketzele. The young wife weeps, and my mother wipes her own eyes. I laugh at them both — why do they need to cry? I take Ketzele in my arms and feed her pieces of apple and orange, right in her mouth. Ketzele looks into my eyes, laughs, and pets me with her silken little hands as I kiss her small, warm fingers. Too bad I don’t have a paintbox, or I’d paint Ketzele on paper with her curly silken hair, her pretty blue eyes, and her face like an angel’s. My friend Mendl laughs at me for playing with a “doll.” To him she is just a doll!

As we were approaching America, Ketzele fell deathly ill. A chill passes over my body when I remember that time. That child took a part of me with her. I can barely speak about it or even think about it. Don’t make me tell you what they did with Ketzele. I’ll just tell you about the sorrow of the young mother when we reached Ellis Island. She didn’t cry. She stared at everyone with glassy eyes. Whenever anyone asked her a question, she didn’t answer. Now people are afraid the young woman has gone mad and will be sent back. My mother is frantic. My brother Elyahu is beside himself. He can’t bear our mother’s tears any longer. And Pinni hides and cannot be found.

E.

Do you think only Jews have problems on Ellis Island? Gentiles also have their troubles. A large group of Italians have been traveling with us, all wearing velvet pants and wooden shoes. When they walk, they clop like horses. They’re fine Gentiles, excellent people. They’re crazy about me. They call me a strange name, piccolo bambino. They give me nuts and raisins from their velvet pants pockets, and I rather like that. I can’t speak with them because they don’t understand my language and I don’t understand theirs, but I love to hear them talk among themselves. Their r ’s come out hard: “Buona serrra!” “Mio carrro!” “Prrrego signorrra!”

Then a terrible thing happened to them. When they were being examined, one of them innocently let slip that a contractor in London had hired them to work on a bridge in America. That’s not legal. So they’re going to be sent back. They speak all at once, gesticulate wildly, and roll their r ’s: “Sacrrramento!” But nothing helps. They are greatly to be pitied. Several of them have tears in their eyes.

F.

Mazel tov! We have a wedding on Ellis Island! How did this happen? Listen. An orphan girl from Chudnov named Leah, dark-haired, charming, and friendly, became very close to our three women during the journey. They became one soul. Our women learned she was alone and had no one in America. For many years she had worked hard, saved some money, and was going to America. She couldn’t live in Chudnov anymore. They had killed her father in a pogrom, and her mother had died of grief. She was left on her own. Good people took care of her and taught her a trade — she could sew, knit, iron, and embroider. “Golden hands,” my mother said of her. Everyone is sure that in America she’ll be given all the work she needs, and she’ll find a good husband. Leah lowers her eyes and blushes. The problem is that she has no one in America to receive her.

But there’s a bachelor on the Prince Albert, Lazer Bach. He’s a carpenter and is going to his uncle in Chicago. Lazer is a rough-looking redhead with very thick lips, but I like him for his songs. He sings Yiddish songs beautifully. So it was decided: since Lazer had someone to receive him and Leah had no one, Lazer Bach would say Leah was his fiancée. Of course this ruse was thought up by none other than our old sea dog. And here’s what happened. At the examination they appeared together as bride-to-be and groom-to-be. Sounds good? It turns out that on Ellis Island it doesn’t work that way. If you are engaged, you must have a wedding there before they’ll let you leave. Leah wept. We consoled her: “What do you care, little silly? You’ll get to the city, and he’ll give you a divorce, and you’ll be the same Leah as before.” “But what if he won’t?” the fearful Leah asks. We reply, “Is being sent back better?”

In short, we have a wedding, a sad wedding without klezmer, but with an assistant rabbi and many tears, no end of tears, a sea of tears.

G.

Only one person is happy. Can you guess who? It’s the Heissen tailor. He’s lived to triumph over our friend Pinni. Who can compare with the Heissen tailor? He sees nothing but welcoming parades in front of us, strokes his beard, and peers at Pinni through his shiny eyeglasses. But Pinni is cleverer than he. He sticks the point of his nose into a book, pretending not to see the tailor. He couldn’t care less!

H.

Our own troubles, and other people’s troubles, put a damper on our joy at finally being in America. We’ve seen and heard so much sadness here on Ellis Island that we’re exhausted. We gather our family close together and stare at the vast, busy city that stands in the distance. Do you know what we look like? We look like a flock of sheep on a hot summer’s day, huddled together in a field near the railway tracks, looking bewildered as a train noisily rushes by and vanishes. Too bad I don’t have a pencil and a sheet of paper to draw our huddled family and all the other confined emigrants on Ellis Island, each sitting on his bundle. Some sigh and tell one another what is in their bitter hearts. Others remain silent, and still others weep, bathed in tears, in a sea of tears.

A.

If you’ve never sailed on the ocean, never spent ten days and ten nights on the water, never been confined on Ellis Island; if you’ve never witnessed or listened to your fill of troubles, sorrows, and pain, never bathed in a sea of tears, nor awaited those who are supposed to deliver you — then you can’t feel the joy of finally standing with both feet on the ground. If I weren’t afraid of my brother Elyahu, or embarrassed to be seen by others, I’d fall to the ground and then somersault three times. That’s how good it feels to be standing with both feet on solid ground. You can understand why even a pessimistic man like my brother Elyahu wears a new expression on his face. He rubs his hands together and says to us all, “Are we really in America?”