Ester Klein Reaction

It’s 1892 and you, Esther Klein, are a 17-year-old textile mill worker in the American northeast. You are new to the country and to industrial work, having worked previously on your parents’ farm in the old country. As much as you longed to come to America, your life as a poor Jewish industrial worker in the United States makes you have second thoughts. And life at the mill—why you and some of the other girls dream of organizing and standing up to the mill owners, but what you’ve seen of other labor organizing worries you! So tell me, Esther, what are the sources of your dissatisfaction as a poor woman, a worker, and a Jewish immigrant? Why have your dreams, of what life in America would be, changed?

Diary Entry from Ester Klein, January 1892

My family decided several months ago to sell our farm in Germany so that we could enjoy a better life in America. Papa said financial opportunities and freedom in America would be better than anything we experienced in Germany. In our country being Jewish, means that those who are not scorn you. They do not seem to understand our faith, which is older than some of their religions. Our fellow Jews have also experienced persecution that seems never ending.

The journey to America was not at all what Papa said it would be. Papa said that we would have a cabin for ourselves, but he was mistaken. Once on the ship we were herded like cattle to one of the lowest decks. The open deck was dimly lit and the six members of my family were crushed together with hundreds of other passengers. When we were close to New York we managed to get to the top deck to see the one site that means everything to my family, the Statue of Liberty. After seeing this beacon of hope, I felt that my dreams might come true.

The dreams that I had consisted of helping our family earn enough money to move to the south, maybe Texas, to build a new farm. Our farm would be located where other Jewish families had already established farms. Then once our family farm was established, we would also prosper. We would live in a community that would accept us and allow us to share the American dream.

We arrived in New York, at Ellis Island, where we were processed into America. Our new living arrangement was a tiny one-bedroom apartment. It does not seem possible that our family of six can live in such close quarters. However, after the ship I suppose that anything is possible. The other apartments around us are the same, and we all have to share a common restroom facility. The apartment has no ventilation so it is stuffy and reminds me of an overcrowded chicken coup. The air outside is filled with smoke and other foul odors. This is so different from living in Germany where there is open space and clean air.

Working in this new country at a textile mill is different than I expected. The first problem is that many of the ladies, including myself, are just learning to speak English. Another problem is the numerous, frightening machines that must be operated at the mill. To me they look like giant monsters because I do not understand how to operate them. Some of the women that I work with have injuries from operating “the beasts.” The hours at work are long and I am away from my family most of the day. The heat at times is unbearable, and it is not uncommon to see two or more ladies pass out in this “sweatshop.” The men who operate the mill do not seem to care. This is why some of the ladies are thinking about organizing a strike and have asked me to help them. Unfortunately, I have heard from other workers that organizing or participating in a labor strike has consequences. We could loose our jobs and the owners could make it almost impossible to find another job. If we did strike, the police could be called in to put down the strike. I have heard that both strikers and innocent people sometimes are injured or killed by the police. It seems that however inhumane our conditions are, it is safer to not organize or speak against our working conditions.

Several times, I have told Papa that the stories we heard of the opportunities in this far-off land were just stories. The other day on the streets of New York several men were overheard saying nasty things about Jewish people. Personally, I believe it is wrong to criticize just because our religion is different. It is not right to treat us badly or for them to threaten our synagogue and the Jewish community in which we live.

Personally, I hope that we eventually earn enough money in New York to begin our American dream. We will purchase a small farm in Texas where there is good land and a large German population who shares our values. Also, we have heard stories that Texas has a few small Jewish communities, and overall Texans are more tolerant of others. Everyday I wake up wondering why we moved so far from everything we knew. Then I remember we moved to have a better future. The future I thought of after seeing the beautiful woman with the torch at Ellis Island.

(I am not sure that it was actually Ester Klein’s family that moved to Texas. In Spring, Texas there was a Klein family that had a school named after them - Klein High School. The reason that I know this is that I graduated from Klein High School not long ago. The area that is today Klein, Texas is surrounded by land that was originally farmed by German immigrants.)