Homeless Immigrants Christmas at the Barge Office - 1898

The article "Immigrants' Christmas at the Barge Office" from December 1898 offers a poignant glimpse into the lives of immigrants spending Christmas at the Barge Office in New York. As Ellis Island was under reconstruction after a fire, the Barge Office served as a temporary processing station. The narrative captures the bittersweet emotions of the holiday season for immigrants, many of whom were far from home and family.

"And the Christmas of the Immigrants at the Barge Office Is Not a Bad One, After All." Drawn by W. O. Wilson. The Puritan, December 1898. GGA Image ID # 14f4df5842

Sometimes, crossing the wintry sea, they lose track of days. In the steerage, one does not find silver-mounted calendars. The tossing of the ship, the dread of the unknown land, the misery of seasickness, the heartache of homesickness—these drive dates from the mind.

And so, when a particular midwinter trip is over, and the crowd of dazed immigrants pours into the dreary office, a cry of surprise is often heard, and an excited chorus in which one may distinguish the words, "Der Tannenbaum!" "Noel!" "Saints preserve us; it's Christmas!"

The great country that welcomes wanderers remembers to give them cordial greetings when Christmas sees them first upon its shores. The fir tree in the corner of the big, barren room and the ground pine twisted around the pillars are but a part of the cheer provided.

There are relatives and friends to hear some strangers off to their homes. At least half of the chattering, puzzled crowd is lovingly borne away, making the lot of those left behind even more pitiful.

These are those whom the government must send back again or whose relatives have neglected to come for them. When their arrival falls on Christmas, all such are guests of the nation—and the nation is not inhospitable.

Besides the green that tells them what day it is, a feast is provided —the typical American feast, with turkey, celery, and cranberry sauce.

Sometimes, when they have wondered and eaten all they can, a little German Gretchen, her heart overflowing with thanks, begins to hum "Stille Nacht."

Everyone guesses that it is a Christmas hymn, and each sings the hymn of his country softly, making harmony, though it is the feeling, not the time or tune, that is one.

And the Christmas of the immigrants at the barge office is not bad, after all.

Far up in the big city on whose borders the foreigners are being entertained, there is another pathetic group who, like the immigrants, have come unwanted to a land where their lot is destined to be hard.

Yet the sisters who care for the foundlings—the little waifs picked up on sidewalks or left screaming in the basket waiting to receive them at the asylum door—try to make the festival of love and peace comprehensible to their charges.

“The Day When Visitors and Toys and Sweets Ani, Play Are All Theirs Without Restraint.” Drawn by W. O. Wilson. The Puritan, December 1898. GGA Image ID # 14f53c5c62

Early in the morning, the dormitories where those who have grown beyond the crib stage resound with song. "Carol, Christians, carol carol joyfully," pipe the little voices. And they know that this is the day of days—the day when visitors and toys and sweets and play are all theirs without restraints.

Early in the day, they are summoned to look upon the big fir tree, which holds a gift for everyone. The regular asylum fund provides some of these and some by never-failing Christmas philanthropists.

But the calm-eyed sisters know of some that come from nameless sources, of money, tucked in notes that are not signed, of dolls and toys marked for "Baby Alice" or "Little Joe." Then they know that Christmas has come to awaken conscience and remorse somewhere.

The day ends when the little blue uniformed regiment files into the chapel for vespers—all rosy and devout, full of memories of feasting and frolic—to thank Heaven that they live in a world so kind and fair.

Visitors are gathered in the chapel's body, and they listen pityingly to the thanksgiving of the children, who, all unconscious of the need for pity, "carol joyfully."

Far uptown, in a home overlooking the Hudson, some of the old ladies of New York spend their Christmas. They have looked forward to the clay for many weeks. This one's friends have invited her to dine, and that one's have promised to come and spend an afternoon with her.

The usually quiet place is filled with bustle and confusion from early morning. Little vanities long discarded are resurrected. This one has doubts about the lace collar laid away many years ago; that one is in a flurry over the problem presented by pink and purple ribbons for her cap; another is not sure that her black silk, a relic of former grandeur, will be just the thing for her clay's outing.

The fortunate one who is invited out to dinner is ready several hours before the time set and commiserates patronizingly with the sad little woman whose friends have forgotten that she is in an old ladies' home, to whom no one is coming, who is going nowhere, but who will spend her day in the stiffly decorated rooms, listening to well-meant speeches by the board, joining in perfunctory hymns—all the while alone with her memories.

In all the hospitals, Christmas is the children's day. The aromatic fragrance of pine and fir overpowers the heavy odor of anesthetics for once. Lids that seemed too weary to be lifted from the clay before are wide open now to look upon the fairyland created by the nurses overnight. Over every cot and crib, there is a wreath of green.

On every counterpane are wonders manifold. There is a little bunch of bright, prickly red and green, and the nurses say its name is Holly. For the girls, there are dolls—fine lady dolls for little invalids who have never seen the beings counterfeited for them in wax and tow.

The little girl with a bandaged arm caresses her unresponsive baby with as much instinctive motherhood as though she had two arms. A child croons happily over a shapeless rubber being in the next cot.

Diminutive "nigger" dolls create delight; proud bisque ones inspire awe. And then there are picture books full of gorgeous colors and beautiful scenes, cut and pasted by thoughtful people who treasure cards and magazines to make the pleasure of giving books.

The boys have gifts that appeal equally to them. There are steam engines that will run swiftly over quilts. There are books to make them forget the walls of their wards—jungle tales and desert island stories.

There are toy soldiers to marshal in battle array and to pose for favorite heroes. There are whole villages stacked with houses, animals, bright green trees, and miniature people. All these are enough to make the children forget half their aches and pains—and this is not half their Christmas fun.

If they are convalescing, they may have feasts—such white slices of chicken, such pieces of cake, such beautiful sticks of striped candy, such heaping plates of ice cream.

And in the middle of the ward, for them to gaze at all day long, a fairy tree of green stretches its branches all glittering with tinsel and gay with ribbons, candles, and fruit. In the evening, a bright electric star whirls about and makes them fairly ecstatic with delight.

Almost as lonely as the day of the old lady who has outlived her friends is that of the young woman who has put hers aside for what she probably calls a career.

On Christmas, she bustles into the independent woman's favorite hostelry—the Margaret Louise Home. She does not discard her air of having only a few minutes for such frivolous an occupation as dining, even for this occasion.

But at the table, even the most conspicuously businesslike of the tribe gradually loses her pride of position. She looks, not with unmitigated satisfaction, at the long tables full of others of her kind. The gleam of silver and the white napery do not afford complete esthetic pleasure any more than do the viands, attractive as they are, give her an appetite.

The green hangings she has passed in the sunny parlor make her homesick, and perhaps in all of New York, there is no more depressing sight than the room full of healthy, bright, well-dressed, well-fed, lonely women gathered together away from their kinsfolk.

One has a different feeling about the tramp who has forgotten that he ever had a home and perhaps never did have one worthy of the name. When he slumps into the mission restaurants, his ragged hat pulled low over his eyes; his frayed collar turned up about his ears, unkempt and dirty, one feels grateful that in the big city, there is some Christmas cheer for even the most sad.

Along the waterside and in the narrow, crowded streets of the slums, various missions are established for this day only, restaurants whose open doors mean a welcome to all the outcasts.

For the last three years, some five hundred pounds of turkey and three hundred pounds of chicken have been provided for the five hundred-odd prisoners who happened to be in the Tombs prison at the time. All the jails make equally generous provisions for their inmates.

Prison discipline is relaxed for the day. The women are permitted to walk freely in the corridors all day, and the men are allowed out of their cells until after the noonday dinner.

The dinner is special—not the customary prison stews and potatoes, but one that holds the conventional turkey and cranberry sauce.

The prison missionaries provide entertainment. It would not seem very cheerful, perhaps, to those free to choose their own diversions. But to those to whom each day brings the same dull routine of work or discipline, the Bible reading, praying, and singing of hymns accompany it.

Christmas Day is more than a break in the awful monotony; how much more, one may guess. Who knows that every Christmas Eve, a small band of reclaimed toughs journeys up to a certain house on Madison Square to sing beneath its windows the songs of peace and goodwill its gracious mistress sang to them in prison long ago?

Pauline Stanton, "The Christmas of the Homeless," in The Puritan, Vol. IV, No. 3, December 1898, pp. 326-330

Conclusion

The Christmas experience at the Barge Office in 1898 was a mix of joy and melancholy. While the holiday brought moments of happiness, especially for children who had never seen a Christmas tree, it also underscored the isolation and uncertainty faced by many immigrants. The efforts of volunteers and missionaries provided some comfort, but the underlying sadness of being away from loved ones in a foreign land was palpable. The article highlights both the resilience of the immigrants and the compassion of those who sought to make their Christmas special.

Key Points

• 🎄 Christmas Celebrations: The Barge Office was adorned with Christmas decorations, including trees and gifts for children, creating a festive atmosphere despite the somber surroundings.

• 🎁 Gifts and Treats: Volunteers distributed gifts such as toys, candy, and practical items like soap and handkerchiefs, ensuring no one was left out.

• 🏥 Hospital Care: Special arrangements were made for those in the hospital, with a decorated tree placed where patients could see it, providing some joy during their stay.

• 💔 Emotional Moments: The article reflects on the emotional weight of the day for many immigrants, particularly those separated from family and friends.

• 🌍 Diverse Immigrant Experiences: The celebrations included songs and speeches in various languages, reflecting the diverse backgrounds of the immigrants.

• 🤝 Support and Assistance: The role of missionaries and volunteers was crucial in providing comfort and assistance, including language interpretation and emotional support.

• 🎶 Music and Memories: Music played a significant role in the celebrations, evoking memories and emotions among the immigrants.

• 👥 Community and Isolation: While some immigrants experienced a sense of community, others felt the stark reality of isolation in a new country.

• 🚢 Temporary Arrangements: The Barge Office, a temporary solution after the Ellis Island fire, highlighted the transitional nature of the immigrants' experience.

• 📜 Historical Context: The article situates the Christmas celebrations within the broader historical context of immigration and the role of Ellis Island and the Barge Office in processing new arrivals.

Summary

1. Festive Environment: The Barge Office was decorated for Christmas, creating a cheerful yet poignant atmosphere for the immigrants.

2. Gifts and Generosity: All immigrants received gifts, including toys and essentials, demonstrating the generosity of the volunteers.

3. Hospital Celebrations: Special attention was given to hospitalized immigrants, with decorations and gifts to lift their spirits.

4. Emotional Impact: The celebrations evoked mixed emotions, with many immigrants feeling the absence of their loved ones.

5. Cultural Diversity: The festivities reflected the cultural diversity of the immigrants, with music and speeches in multiple languages.

6. Volunteers' Role: Volunteers played a critical role in organizing the celebrations and offering support to the immigrants.

7. Music and Memory: Music was a central part of the celebrations, bringing back memories and providing comfort.

8. Sense of Community: While some found solace in the community, others grappled with feelings of isolation.

9. Transitory Nature: The use of the Barge Office as a temporary processing center highlighted the ongoing challenges of immigration.

10. Historical Significance: The event is framed within the larger narrative of immigration and the importance of Ellis Island and the Barge Office during this period.