How a Mongol Became a Jew Became Irish

While I am Italian on my mom’s side, the stories of my paternal grandfather Adolf Berkowitz are the most well known in my family. Adolf was born in the Austro-Hungarian village of Essen. His father, Max, was part of the Honor Guard for Franz Josef and was armed with a sword. According to family lore an anti-Semite in the town began to harass Max’s father, tugging at his long beard. Fueled by an infamous temper, which has been diluted in recent Berke generations, Max struck the man with his sword. More outlaw than immigrant, he then fled the country leaving his family behind. In 1917 he was able to send money to my great-grandmother Bertha and my 7 year old grandfather Adolf and they crossed the sea to join him in Pittsburgh.

Thirty years later, my grandfather had grown up to be the only Jewish doctor in Antioch, Illinois, and had shortened his name from Berkowitz to Berke. Safe under the guise of an Irish name, Adolf made frequent house calls, carrying with him a large alligator skin bag full of vials of brightly colored pills. When my father Jerry Berke was a child he would sometimes ride this bag like a cowboy patrolling the desert, or perhaps like a nomad on the steppes of Eurasia.

Genghis Khan -- A distant relation?                                                    Jerry Burke, the Author's Father

Berkowitz means “son of Berke.” I’ve been told that the first Berke—from whom all Berkowitzes are descended—was the grandson of Genghis Khan, the founder of the Mongol Empire. So somewhere back there we were Mongols, and perhaps it was the blood of a warrior that caused my great-granddaddy Max to lose his temper that day and strike out for a new life in America. And perhaps it is the ambition of a Mongol horde that drives me to pursue a career in show biz. So I guess what I’m trying to say is, thank you Genghis Khan.

Elly Berke is an educator and costumed interpreter at the Lower East Side Tenement Museum. She joined the museum in 2009 to play Victoria Confino, thus fulfilling a dream of combining her degrees in American Studies, Theatre, and Museum Studies. Elly acts professionally and studies at the Lee Strasberg Theatre and Film Institute.

Remembering Roosevelt

When I was very young in Vienna, my nanny took me to see the triumphant entrance of Adolph Hitler into the city where he once led an impoverished life. The crowds were huge and hysterical with joy. I was too young to understand that he was a threat to my life, but my mother, knowing better, escaped to New York with me.

Six years later,  in 1944 I stood in the rain on Broadway along with a sparse crowd. President Roosevelt was running for a fourth term. As he drove by in an open car we let out a cheer for the President who, looking quite ill, would die just months later.

Tenement Museum Educator Dorothea Scher

Whenever I bring a group of visitors to the Baldizzi apartment at 97 Orchard Street, I see Roosevelt’s photograph on the wall and am reminded of the heroic status he achieved by carrying this nation through the great depression. As a new American, Roosevelt represented the best of this country to me, so I know why Sadie and Al hung his photograph on their wall.

Dorothea Scher arrived in New York as an immigrant, so she is naturally very attached to the Tenement. She experienced some of the things we talk about on our tours and so she enjoys sharing. She has much more fun being retired than being an agent for commercial photographers, something she did for quarter of a century. Dorothea has also volunteered at the Morgan Library, among other institutions, which is a very different venue from 97 Orchard.

America's Child

I guess I never felt like I fit in anywhere, but public school was the worst. On the days I felt like running away, my dad would offer comfort by telling me that he felt the same as a kid. Though this was meant to make me feel better, instead it made me even more melancholy.

He would begin by remembering a question posed by his first grade teacher:

“Who would like to tell the class what they ate for breakfast this morning? OK, George, you had your hand up first. Go ahead.”

“I had fross-ted, fluck-us!”

“I don’t know what that is George. Can you explain it?”

“Fross-ted Fluck-us! You know… Tony the Tiger… They’re GRRR-ATE!!”

The whole suburban first grade class burst out laughing once they understood. Even the teacher laughed. My dad, an immigrant from Germany, flushed red and sat down. But he found a language to recount the story years later and could even laugh at himself about it.

Tenement Museum Educator Jason Eisner with a photograph of his father as a child in Germany

I grew up listening to this kind of English when we would travel on weekends or for holidays or birthdays to my grandparent’s house. Their accent was thick, but I understood them… the thing is I don’t remember now what they said.

Instead, I remember heavy food smells, and running down the hill on the side of their house. And I remember a densely packed basement full of boxes and treasures and laundry drying on a line. I remember sneaking into my grandparents' bedroom where I was surprised by how cool it felt, always, and by the rose smell that made me think of grandma. There was a picture on their wall from another time and place, with grandpa in a uniform fighting for the wrong army.

There were times I didn’t understand what they said because they spoke in German or Czech. My dad didn’t understand either, but we both knew we were being talked about.

The language of my grandparents was a private code. A secret. It was their intimacy and their history. It died with them. I am the son of an immigrant who has lost his tongue and his history. I am the ideal lost American son.

Jason Eisner is an activist visual artist who migrated to New York from the suburbs of Chicago a decade and a half ago. When he is not working full time on his art production he works as an Educator at the Tenement Museum, where he is committed (though story telling) to changing the world, one visitor at a time.

New to New York

People come to the United States for various reasons; freedom, economic stability, a better life for their children. I came for love. My wife brought me here. At the age of 30 I found myself an immigrant in an amazing, bewildering city.

I work at the Tenement Museum, delving deep into the experiences of immigrants who arrived over a hundred years before me, and their stories have grounded me in this new place. By exploring their trials and tribulations I have been gifted with perspective of my own.

It is true that those who came before us were just people like ourselves, living in a different time, doing the best they could with what they had available. I remember walking down Broadway near Lincoln Center and feeling utterly lost and aimless in New York, no job, still waiting on my work permit, terrified at starting my life over again. Thinking about my friends and family that I had left behind in New Zealand. Frightened to jay walk, paranoid that some cop would arrest me for doing it. I also felt so challenged. At times I would want to curl up into a ball and just disappear. I didn’t want to start my life over again. I had to find the drive to start over.

Tenement Museum Educator Raj Varma

Even language was different for me in America. I grew up speaking not American English, but the Queen’s English (Like Colin Firth). For me, a “torch” is an instrument that you put batteries into that creates light. However, it caused a huge laugh at a Tenement Museum educator meeting when I mentioned that object; my colleagues pointed out that here they call it a flashlight. I think they envisioned me as a New Zealand version of Indiana Jones, wandering through the building with an ignited rag wrapped around a human femur. In New Zealand a “bench” is what Americans call a “countertop”. Biscuits vs. cookies, zebra crossings vs. crosswalks, entrees vs. appetizers vs. mains vs. entrees. I could go on. And on. And on.

On a more serious level, it took me years to be able to use the term “black” without feeling like I was going to offend somebody, and terms that are loaded here, like the “N” word, I used flippantly in New Zealand as a teenager. We never had a civil rights movement in New Zealand. The “N” word was more of a joke than a racial slur.

On my honeymoon, my wife and I went to the Finger Lakes district in Western New York and we hired a car. I ended up driving into incoming traffic on the highway. It was instinctual for me, I had to undo what I knew and adapt to the new way.

And when I think of immigrants at the Tenement each day, I can imagine how they would have felt upon their arrival in Manhattan. It’s conjecture that those feelings may have mirrored my own. Nobody will know how Bridget Moore felt in 1863 when she arrived in this new world. But I take heart in the belief that emotions are divine. We have felt them since before the ages and they make us human.

To know the struggles of those who have come before is a gift indeed. To feel emotionally connected with these souls is a validation for me. I share in their triumph and quietly gain confidence from the knowledge that if they did it, so can I. And for those who failed, those that died with dreams unfulfilled, I am reminded everyday of how lucky I am to enjoy the benefits of a nation made rich through the waves of immigrants that created it.

Rajeev Varma is a New Zealand-born Rajasthani/Punjabi actor who has worked extensively in theatre, film and television. He starred in New Zealand's prime time comedy, The Millen Baird Show and New Zealand's first Indo-Asian sketch comedy show, 1000 Apologies. He is one half of the comedy duo Those Indian Guys, with comedian Tarun Mohanbhai. His one-man show D’Arranged Marriage has been playing in Manhattan for almost two years. Rajeev currently lives in Brooklyn, New York with his amazing and patient wife.

My Mother's Gift

In 1990, I was one year old and on my way to America. My father had begged my mother to let me stay with him in the Philippines, so a compromise was struck—I would move between worlds and cultures for the first few years of my life. Soon, it was my mother’s turn to say goodbye to me at the gate and fly back to America alone, leaving my father to care for me with the help of my army of Titas (aunties).

When she returned home to the U.S., my mom packed away my things and spent that year avoiding birthday parties for her friends’ children. It was too much, she would later tell me -- “But I did what I had to do.”

My mother’s life is defined by this phrase. Her courage was rooted in her responsibility to sustain the future of her family with each paycheck she sent home.

Tenement Museum Intern Marianne De Padua and her Family

In 1986, my mother was a frail and naïve 26-year-old woman who came to America for the first time seeking a better life. She worked long hours as a nurse between two hospitals and lived in a small apartment on the outskirts of Atlantic City, New Jersey.

For years I never understood her absence. She was still a stranger to me even after my father’s visa was approved and we moved to America to live with her and my new baby sister. Through my young eyes, mom worked from dawn until well into the night. When she was home, she was tired and always cooking a week’s worth of food. My mother always seemed angry.

At 22 years old, I am in awe of the strength it must have taken for my mother to leave her country and her family. My resentment towards her has turned into immense gratitude for giving me a life of limitless opportunities. Like most immigrant family stories, ours is one of sacrifice and unwavering faith in the American dream. Because of my mother, we are all living her dream.

Marianne De Padua is an intern with the Public Affairs Department at the Lower East Side Tenement Museum. She is currently a senior majoring in Journalism and Media Studies at Rutgers University. Marianne hopes to pursue a career in public relations, working for non-profit organizations or museums in New York City.

Celebrating Immigrant Heritage Week

This Monday marks the start of Immigrant Heritage Week here in New York City--a time to celebrate the rich contributions that immigrants make to our city and our nation. It’s especially meaningful for us at the Tenement Museum, where we discuss both immigrant history and contemporary issues with thousands of visitors from around the world each week.

The United States has been a nation of immigrants from the start. Our culture reflects this in the foods we eat, the music we hear and the holidays we celebrate; our economy is fueled by the labor and innovation of immigrant workers and entrepreneurs.

Chinese Schoolchildren c.1910

Here at the Tenement Museum, we celebrate the strength and variety of our immigrant experiences every day. Often, visitors find that the stories we tell mirror those of their own families. Whether our roots are in South America, Europe, Africa, Asia, or right here in New York, we can all find commonalities with the people who started new lives at 97 Orchard Street.

This week is a perfect time to support immigrant heritage and the Tenement Museum by paying us a visit or joining us as a museum member. We are a community organization in the truest sense, and we hope you’ll contribute to our ongoing conversation.

In an effort to share some of our own personal histories, and in celebration of this important week, we’re excited to present a series of stories from our museum staff members here on our blog. I hope you’ll check back to read each of these uniquely powerful contributions. Today you’ll find the first of five installments.

--Morris J. Vogel, Tenement Museum President

More IHW - Report from the Mayor's Breakfast

Today I was representing the Tenement Museum at a Gracie Mansion breakfast celebration kicking off 2010 NYC Immigrant Heritage Week. It was an honor and a pleasure to be around so many interesting people from New York City. I got to meet and take a photo with the Mayor and with the Commissioner of Immigrant Affairs from the Mayor’s Office.

The Tenement Museum and many colleagues from our neighborhood are participating in this week-long series of events commemorating the great immigrant heritage in the city of New York. Being at this celebration made me proud to be an immigrant and to work at an immigration museum. People were in good spirits and really excited to kick off the celebrations; the Mayor spoke briefly and shared a laugh with us while at the same time making a strong point about immigration.

Listening to the Mayor made me realize how important the voices of immigrants are. The Mayor encouraged all of us to fill out the census forms this year -- for many obvious reasons, of course -- but he spoke about how the census allows us to have more representation in Congress and in the New York State Assembly. More voices from places like NYC can help push forward reasonable immigration legislation for our country.

A city like New York has so many immigrants that our voices can weight more -- we can help everyone in the country understand the foundation immigrants have built here. The Mayor used this idea to express his feelings on how a country of immigrants should cherish its heritage and the influence of so many people from around the world who have made their homes here.

He encouraged us to be the ones to take the lead and be more involved. The simplest thing we can do it is fill out the census. That way, all of New York's many voices will be heard.

We can use this week to think about the influence immigrants had and still have in shaping the United States. This breakfast celebration really made look forward even more to the upcoming events this week. Of course, I celebrate my immigrant experience every day, but this week will be even more special.

- Posted by Pedro Garcia, Education Associate for Training & Outreach

It's Immigrant Heritage Week!

Each year, the Mayor's Office of Immigrant Affairs sponsors a week dedicated to recognizing the contributions of immigrants to our City. Different museums, cultural centers, settlement houses, dance companies, and other organizations host free or low-cost events that celebrate New York's vibrant heritage.

The Tenement Museum has been fortunate to be part of this event series since the beginning, and we've hosted a number of programs (most memorable, to me, was Crossing the BLVD).

This year, we're offering a FREE walking tour of the Lower East Side. Come by the Visitors Center & Museum Shop on Wednesday, April 21. The tour leaves at 2:30 PM, and tickets will be distributed starting at 10 AM. (Sorry, we're only able to give them out on the day of the program, and only two per person are allowed. The tour is capped at 25.)

The tour is the newest in the Museum's roster, focusing on the trends that shaped the neighborhood after 1935. So much happened here in the 20th century that we don't get into on our building tours. We'll be able to discuss gentrification and neighborhood change, immigration trends post-1966, how buildings have been changed and reused, and how urban renewal affected the Lower East Side in ways good and bad.

"Next Steps," as the tour is called, has its "soft launch" this month and next on the weekends (Saturday/Sunday at 2:30 PM), and by summer we'll be offering it daily, so feel free to come by another time if you can't make it during Immigrant Heritage Week. We also offer walking tours for private groups of 15 or more, which is a great option if you're looking for a discounted price and a personalized experience.

I'd be remiss if I didn't mention some of the other IHW events happening in the neighborhood.

• The Educational Alliance has a concert for kids featuring music from around the world. (All week)
  
• The Museum at Eldridge Street has a family scavenger hunt they're giving away if you stop by. (All week)
  
• The Museum of the Chinese in America is offering a walking tour of Chinatown. (All week, 10:30 AM)
  
• American Immigration Lawyers Association hosts a citizenship workshop for green card holders at PS 2, 122 Henry Street. (4/17, 11 AM - 3 PM)
  
• CSV Center has two plays and a film screening - a Loisaida Romeo & Juliet; a retelling of the food riots of 1917; and a documentary about those who've stayed behind while family members immigrate to the United States. (Various dates)
  
• Seward Park Library hosts the play Two Friends: Dos Amigos. (4/19, 6:30 - 7:30 PM)
  
• Italian American Museum hosts a lecture on the support Italian immigrants gave to the people of Sicily after a 1908 earthquake. (4/21, 6:30 - 7:30 PM)
  
• And last but not least, Immigrant Social Services has a photography project titled, "The Joys and Anguishes of Immigrants in the Lower East Side / Chinatown Community." (4/21, 4:00 - 6:00 PM)

We hope you'll make it out to one or more events over the next seven days and honor all those who have made, and are making their way, in New York City.

- posted by kate