Where Bad Citizens Are Made: The Harsh Reality of Ellis Island’s Immigrant Experience (1921)
📌 In 1921, the treatment of immigrant women and children at Ellis Island was a matter of national concern. This article critiques the inhumane conditions at the immigration station, shedding light on the personal suffering of immigrants and the reforms introduced by Commissioner Frederick A. Wallis.
Where Bad Citizens Are Made – 1921
Relevance to Immigration Studies
The article Where Bad Citizens Are Made (1921) offers a poignant, deeply critical examination of the immigration experience at Ellis Island, focusing on the harsh realities faced by immigrant women and children during the early 20th century. This article is especially relevant for teachers, students, genealogists, historians, and immigration scholars, as it provides a unique perspective on the intersection of gender, race, and immigration policy.
The piece critiques both the institutionalized mistreatment of immigrants and the social attitudes that underpinned immigration procedures at the time. Its rich content is ideal for those seeking to explore the human cost of immigration policies and the systemic challenges faced by immigrant families.
Like a Vision, The Great City Rises Before the Newcomers. Photograph by Keystone View Co.The Delineator, March 1921. GGA Image ID # 14d1ba127d
Wouldn't You Hate America If It Met You This Way?
By Marie de Montalvo and Rose Falls Bres
Read this story of what women and children endure at Ellis Island, where many immigrants get their first taste of America. Then, while you are still boiling with a sense of injustice and outraged decency, write to your congressman immediately to say that conditions must be changed.
Talk about the cause of these immigrant women and children in your church. It will not stand for this gross violation of Christian principles. Talk about it in your club. The hatred that Ellis Island breeds spreads like a plague, increasing the discontent that menaces our institutions and the Government itself.
Do you know what happens at Ellis Island, in the shadow of the Statue of Liberty, to the women who come to America from other lands because they think that this is the land of freedom, justice, and plenty—women whose only crime is poverty, whose only offense is ignorance of our language and our ways?
Never mind the millions of men pouring into this country and the millions waiting over there to come, some with passports, waiting for a few inches of space on some America-bound ship, and millions more still waiting for passports.
They constitute an enormously important problem—but we can't leave it all to the men. What concerns the women of this country is that the proportion of women coming to this country is increasing, and we have the power to change that.
National and international problems are coming to the point of confusion and complexity, which makes us feel that a man who seems to know what he thinks must be mistaken.
Immigration is one of the complicated problems people think and feel about, and hardly anyone knows anything about it. Yet, it may be possible to make one assertion that we can all agree on.
There are two things to do with the immigrant: keep him out or treat him fairly. And fairness is what we should all strive for.
Now, women of America! Do you know that women surrounded with children, carrying small babies, squeezed into airless rooms among men, are forced to stand day after day and week after week waiting for a man with a megaphone to yell their unpronounceable names at them so that they may know their relatives have come for them?
Do you know that after they disembark at Ellis Island, they are pushed, jostled, shouted at, and bullied by so-called "officials" whose qualifications for the job seem invariably to have been a harsh voice and a hot temper?
Do you know that women with babies and baggage are forced to stand in line for at least half a day, and sometimes several days, and negotiate several flights of stairs, carrying with them everything they own on earth before they pass their physical examinations, which could all be performed much more quickly and effectively on the same floor?
Do you know that there are 2,089 bunks on Ellis Island, provided with two blankets apiece; that because detained immigrants must be segregated into classes, only 1,500 of these beds are available—since if there are only ten Chinese, and the dormitory for Chinese holds twenty-five, the remaining fifteen bunks must remain empty rather than fill them with white people—and that recently on the Jewish holiday, Yom Kippur, 3,500 people remained five days in Ellis Island, of whom 2,000 men, women and children were without bunks and had to lie on the floor or sit up all night, six squeezed together on each bench?
2,000 Men, Women, and Children Remained for Five Days at Ellis Island Recently, Without Bunk Beds, and Had to Lie on the Floor or Sit Up All Night, With Six Squeed Together on Each Bench. Photo © Brown Bros. The Delineator, March 1921. GGA Image ID # 14d1d00671
Do you know there is no place for women to wash themselves, their clothes, and their babies, except at a sink out in the public hall? And no place to dry their clothes except on lines strung over their bunks in unventilated dormitories, with bunk beds four deep up and down the walls, where they must remain anywhere from a single night to a year?
Can you imagine the mental attitude of government employees who stopped up the faucets in the eating halls because they might drip on the floors if immigrants were allowed to drink water with their meals?
Have you a picture of a baby whose underclothing remains unchanged for so long that its skin peels off with its garments when they are finally removed?
Do you know the inadequacy of the sanitary arrangements—such that a visitor hates to inspect them because their awful presence is made known long before they are visible?
In brief, do you smell Ellis Island when you read these words?
When United States Commissioner of Immigration Frederick A. Wallis first went to Ellis Island, he noticed the women holding babies in their arms, who had stood in line for a day, sometimes waiting their turn to pass.
It was trying and tiring and sickening enough for strong men who were not so burdened to drag their luggage up and down the interminable flights of stairs and then stand and wait for hours. Think of what it meant to the mother of eight little children, one of them in arms, with eleven pieces of baggage!
"Women with children first" was the first rule laid down by Commissioner Frederick A. Wallis. Some other commissioner might have thought of that years and years ago. Indeed, if a woman had been at Ellis Island, she would have thought of it very quickly.
Next, he saw the crying children. And one of the terrible things about Ellis Island is that you can't ask people why they cry. If you ask, they cannot tell you. You must hunt up someone, perhaps a long way off, to find out for you. After you've been there half an hour, you'd rather know another language than own a million dollars.
The commissioner found out that the children cried because the milk was sour. If it wasn't sour, it was always cold.
At Ellis Island, any woman would have known long ago that cold milk makes babies ill. It is nothing against former commissioners that they didn't know. Men don't seem to find out those things. Mr. Wallis did, and from the time he first went there, warm, fresh milk was served to mothers and their babies at intervals during the day.
The newly appointed commissioner noticed that these poor creatures slept with their clothes on and asked the social workers to "teach them how to go to bed." Then he inquired what had become of all the towels.
Towels! The employees of the Island threw up their hands in wonder. What sort of man had been sent to them in authority? Towels for immigrants! What had immigrants ever done to deserve them? Very likely, they had never had towels where they came from. Why should they have them here?
They had no information on towels, so stated to the commissioner. After which, the commissioner looked again at a particular inventory, noted the plain statement of a stock of thirty-odd thousand towels, brought them forth, and now immigrants are using towels.
And these employees at Ellis Island- have you seen how they talk to the immigrant women? Have you been there, in the shadow of the Statue of Liberty, and wondered whether a harsh voice, a rough hand, and a hot temper were the only qualifications necessary to get a job welcoming strangers to our fair land?
"Get back! Get along there! Quit that! Here, you get a move on! Hey, you, Ivan Ivanovitch, get out of there! Come here! What are you waiting for, you, Olga? Can't you hear? Are you deaf? No, I won't listen to you, come out of that-"
The tone is mightily like that of "Gee!" and "Haw!" when oxen are being driven. The scene is a roped enclosure holding several hundred human beings back from a door just outside. Just out of their longing sight, relatives are waiting, day after day and week after week, to claim their immigrant kin.
A man stands on a bench in that crowded room shouting names through a megaphone-long, twisted, often incomprehensible name. And toward him on all sides in the crowded room are turned faces—the faces of children, white or brown, or glowing with the last fires kindled by the sunshine of a recent voyage; faces with delicate, hollow cheeks and high cheek-bones from Czechoslovakia, with the vivid, proud beauty of Sicilians, or silvery Scandinavian blondness—but all of them anxious faces. The calling of a single name depends on the fate of families who come in through Ellis Island.
That delicate face under the Paisley-patterned headdress had been inclined to the man with the megaphone every day for three weeks, while shadows darkened around its wistful eyes, only adding to their beauty.
The little girl from Czechoslovakia—she may have been fifteen—had shown real courage. But it had reached its climax today, and she pulled down the Paisley headdress to hide her tears.
The visitor to Ellis Island lost all her manners and pulled the sleeve of the social service director. "That girl there"—she made herself heard through the babel of foreign languages— "couldn't you find out why she is so worried?"
Of course, it was against all the rules. Still, those who deal with the humanities, which means, most often, women, find it their chief duty to see that all rules are broken occasionally. So a slip of a girl from Czechoslovakia found an arm about her, and she was led away from the crowded room to talk to an interpreter.
Nothing much was wrong. That was the pity of it. The girl had come with a cousin, and the cousin had a child.
That made a different kind of a "case." She and her child had been sent away upstairs while the others remained below. But the girl in the Paisley headdress knew only that the only creature she knew and could speak to in this strange, new land had been taken away from her, and she thought perhaps she might never see her again. This she explained to the interpreter, while swift, eager smiles at being able to talk and be understood broke through her despair.
"Take her upstairs," said the director of social service, "and see to it that she finds her cousin and talks to her, even if it's only for two minutes."
And a radiance like sunshine lighted the shadowed, anxious face under the Paisley headdress.
Here in this place, startlingly like the pens and runways of a slaughter-house for cattle, not long ago, a woman waited, sickening in the foul air, weary of standing where there are no seats, frightened into despair because her child was ill and had been taken from her, terrified because her husband had not come for her.
For more than a week, she waited—and all the time, her husband, not five feet away, out of sight behind the next partition, was waiting too, sick with anxiety—because the man with the megaphone had been unable to pronounce their name.
Ivan and Olga are fourteen-year-olds and a woman twice that age. Each carries heavy bundles tight-packed with their worldly goods and chattels.
The woman is in dingy black, and the boy has a string of black for a tie. The relative who waits for them—undoubtedly the brother of the woman, from the resemblance of feature and expression—has a mourning band on his cheap hat. It does not take a vivid imagination to piece out the story of a war widow and her son and their search for a home in the new land.
They are both gathered after many days in the arms of the waiting relative. The sobs and kisses of their relief bring a lump into the throat of the visitor until America, in the form of a bully, shoves them apart with rough hands and not a little help from his ready, rough-shod foot, and again comes the greeting of America: "Get along there! What does blocking the passage mean? Out of the way! Move on! Get out!"
Immigrants in the Maze at Ellis Island, Waiting to be Inspected. "The Stream has become a Flood. There are War Widows, Many of Them; There are the Women Left Destitute of Funds by the War, Coming Here 'On Their Own' to Earn a Living." Photo © Brown Bros. The Delineator, March 1921. GGA Image ID # 14d2a09531
It is a scene enacted once a minute under the signs on the wall labeled in large type "Treatment of Immigrants" and contained in plain English half a dozen excellent commands to be kind.
You ask, then, why is this brutal rounding-up tolerated? The answer is equally cruel, but it is true. The only language the immigrant understands is rough tones and shoves from ungentle hands.
These strangers are from every land under the sun. America can not furnish an army of attendants such that a Russian may call for the Ivanovitch family and take them to where they may talk and kiss to their hearts' content.
A Dutchman does the same for the little Dutch family, an Italian for the Italians, etc. Still, unfortunately, there is a tone that, in any language, means to go when you are bidden and come in haste when you are called, and that is the tone, aided by the foot and hand, which immigrants use.
And this brings us back to the original premise: We should treat them right or keep them out. The saddest thing on the face of the earth is the sight of a woman with a baby in her arms being roughly driven and the knowledge that, as conditions are now, anything else is impossible.
Women of America, you have a duty toward your immigrant sister: Either see to it that these conditions change or that she does not come here.
If the stream of incoming women were thin, the welfare workers, of whom Col. Bostedo is head, could help and ease their lot.
But the stream has become a flood. There are many war widows; there are the women left destitute of funds by the war, coming here "on their own" to earn a living; and there are the women relatives of men already here who earned enough during the war to bring their families over now.
There are pitiful groups of refugees from Bolshevism who have seen their menfolk slaughtered and tortured before their eyes, their children die of hunger, and a future of nameless horrors stretching out before themselves.
The whole thing forms a torrent sweeping toward America by the million, enough holding passports in their hands right now to crowd every incoming ship for the next five years. The only thing that can be done for these foreign women is for the women of America to constitute themselves, each a unit in the Army of Home Defense.
Figures show that a far greater part of our population is born of immigrant women, and thus, the future of America is in their toil-worn hands, anxious hearts, and ignorant, uneducated minds. They constitute a problem that, notwithstanding their soft eyes, tears, and humility, may threaten the very foundation of American institutions.
Every time a woman suffers excessive hardship en route from debarkation to somewhere in America, there is nourished in the bosom of the land an enemy—and difficulty for those passing through in such unpremeditated numbers is inevitable.
However, conditions that are incidental to such overcrowding are the sort that women know more about than men do, for they are the problems of housekeeping on a large scale.
No woman who has ever arranged a slide through which to pass hot soup from the kitchen to the pantry instead of carrying it around through the door would tolerate for one moment the fact that three medical examinations are made at Ellis Island on different floors when they might be done on the same floor.
No woman would submit her family to the condition that permits immigrants to be detained in a room that holds eight hundred people and contains six benches, each one big enough for three.
No woman exists but, given the power, would devise some way for an immigrant to buy, even with foreign money, a two-cent stamp to write to his relatives the first day after landing instead of the last day before his release, when all his money is changed.
Of course, there are inevitable hardships.
We cannot have deluxe suites reserved at our leading hotels for incoming immigrant women and their children. A perfect world is not expected by the relatively sane. Only poets, sentimentalists, and Bolshevists preach the doctrine of freedom from all restraint, wealth without work, and elastic civic conditions to meet any need.
But many of the hardships we have noted are ones that we should avoid if we are to let the immigrants come at all. Otherwise, we will suffer as a nation much more than the immigrant does as an individual.
The searchlight of inquiry turned upon male aliens at ports of entry discovers a startling number equipped with blackjacks and black intentions. If they do not have them written on their faces, these men carry evidence of criminal bent in their pockets.
But women there, no less than at home, have found that kitchen stoves and washtubs need not limit their sphere. They have participated in things in Europe, fought in the trenches, led mobs, and organized revolutions.
And some few there may be of these who hide with humility and tears their active, red thinking minds, if not a knife in the sleeve.
Along with inquiries about foodstuffs, new fashions in local laws, and club activities, it is good for American women to get acquainted with their sisters traveling third-class from abroad. Inevitably, American women can cross wits with women from any land and win.
The need to do so is at the very gates of America, in the tide pressing there for admission. The foreign woman's unlawful bent lies mainly in her ignorance. She does not understand, and the dozen at Ellis Island can see incidents that may start her on the wrong track.
Newly Arrived Immigrants from the Third Class. "It Might Be Just as Well for American Women to Get Acquinted with Their Sisters Traveling Thrid-Class from Abroad." Photo © Brown Bros. The Delineator, March 1921. GGA Image ID # 14d20dc761
Note the case of the woman who came over with four children, of whom one came down with scarlet fever on the day of arrival. It was taken from her to the hospital, and obviously, she could not be allowed to see it.
The next day, another child was stricken and removed from her, and on the following, a third—and all three died. And when the last one sickened and an attendant came for it, she screamed and fought, crying: "Don't take this one away and kill it too!"
In time, that woman will pass into America's melting pot, her heart and brain seared with grief and desolated with the loss of her children. She will go her way among other foreign women, believing her children have been killed and telling others so.
Sullen and pressed down by poverty, she will sow discontent from the time of her landing and will be forever an unreconstructed rebel unless American women help her. And it isn't flights of oratory in lady-made speeches that are needed.
Foreign women are hard to reach, harder to "get next" to, and hardest to lead—from native customs and loyalty to friendly fellowship with American institutions—but there is a language among women that only women understand, and it is universal.
Only women can explain to the newcomers why this or that condition may be almost intolerable but cannot be helped without time and legislation and that no oppression is meant to strangers by it.
Women must be there to explain, for even without hardship to endure, the immigrant is homesick. With many miles between, the miseries at home seamless, the old country looks rosy far away, and little Giovanni and Heinrich and Pat and Olga and Sonia will imbibe with their mothers' milk a warmed-over loyalty to foreign lands and a new, hot hatred for this one.
Immigrant women will be mothers of Americans. What should we do with them?
Marie de Montalvo and Rose Falls Bres, "Where Bad Citizens Are Made," in The Delineator, New York: The Butterick Publishing Co., Vol. XCVII, No. 2, March 1921, pp. 8-9, 54, & 57.
Key Highlights and Engaging Content
The Harsh Treatment of Immigrant Women and Children
The article starts by exposing the inhuman conditions that immigrant women and children endured at Ellis Island, where they were subjected to long waits, overcrowded conditions, and rough treatment.
The image of women with babies and luggage waiting in airless rooms (depicted in the image "2,000 Men, Women, and Children Remained for Five Days at Ellis Island") is one of the most powerful emotional appeals.
It paints a stark picture of overcrowding, filth, and physical exhaustion, and serves as a vivid critique of how the U.S. treated its newcomers during this period. The article calls for reform in the treatment of immigrants, especially women and children, who were subjected to inadequate sanitary facilities and unsympathetic treatment by the authorities. 🧳👶
The Role of Immigration Commissioner Frederick A. Wallis
The article introduces Frederick A. Wallis, the U.S. Commissioner of Immigration at the time, who, after observing the deplorable conditions at Ellis Island, made efforts to improve the treatment of immigrant families.
Wallis' reforms, such as prioritizing women with children and providing fresh, warm milk for infants, highlight a moment of humanity in an otherwise rigid and impersonal system. His actions are presented as a symbol of empathy and progress in the face of overwhelming bureaucratic indifference. 🧑⚖️💡
The Brutality of Ellis Island’s System
The article also delves into the brutal treatment immigrants received, describing how harsh voices and rough handling became the norm in interactions with the immigrant population.
The use of megaphones to shout names, the separation of families, and the unqualified staff contribute to a sense of alienation and oppression that permeated the Ellis Island experience.
The image titled "Immigrants in the Maze at Ellis Island" reinforces this theme, depicting the chaotic, dehumanizing environment that immigrants had to navigate. 🚨👂
The Heartbreaking Personal Stories
One of the most moving parts of the article is the personal stories shared by the authors, including the case of a Syrian mother whose child was taken from her due to illness, as well as the Czechoslovakian girl anxiously waiting for her relative, unsure of her future in America.
These personal accounts humanize the broader narrative, highlighting the emotional toll of the immigration process and the fear and confusion that many newcomers felt. It serves as a reminder of the psychological trauma caused by systemic inefficiency and lack of compassion. 💔👨👩👧
The Call for Action
The article ends with a strong call to action for American women to advocate for change, urging them to address the plight of immigrant women and to push for reforms to ensure better treatment.
It also addresses the wider implications of the treatment of immigrants on American society, warning that the mistreatment of immigrants could breed resentment and discontent, ultimately creating bad citizens who feel alienated from the American experience.
This call to humanitarian intervention gives the piece a sense of urgency, encouraging readers to be proactive in their response to injustice. 📣🌍
Educational and Historical Insights
Immigrant Women and Children’s Experiences: The article provides a critical look at the gendered experiences of immigration, especially for women and children, who faced additional hardships compared to their male counterparts.
The lack of sanitary facilities, the segregation of different immigrant groups, and the overcrowded conditions present valuable insights for historians examining the intersection of gender, race, and immigration law in early 20th-century America.
Human Cost of Immigration Law: For genealogists and immigration researchers, the article offers a historical lens through which to view the immigration process at Ellis Island. It reveals the bureaucratic hurdles that often made immigrants feel dehumanized and alienated.
The reforms introduced by Wallis provide a contrast to the inhumane system that prevailed before, highlighting the long-standing need for immigration reform.
Impact on American Society: The piece underscores how the treatment of immigrants could have long-term effects on American society. It argues that the failure to treat immigrants with dignity contributes to social unrest and a fractured national identity, suggesting that the way immigrants were treated directly influenced their ability to integrate into American life. 🏙️🇺🇸
Final Thoughts
Where Bad Citizens Are Made (1921) is a powerful critique of the immigration system at Ellis Island, focusing on the inhumane treatment of immigrant women and children.
Through personal stories, the portrayal of systemic issues, and reform efforts by Commissioner Wallis, the article emphasizes the need for a more compassionate approach to immigration. This historical account provides a valuable resource for those studying immigration history, human rights, and social justice.
The piece remains relevant in contemporary discussions about immigration reform, particularly regarding the treatment of vulnerable populations and the role of gender in shaping the immigrant experience.
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