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Immigration Timeline
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The Bloody Sunday Massacre
On January 27, 1905, me, my parents, and my two brothers marched in front of the winter palace to protest non-violently against the war that had taken my uncle, in front of Czar Nichola II's Winter Palace. The Czar, obviously not appreciating the protest, fired, killing countless Russians- including my mother. The next day, police came into my father's farm, siezed our cow "for the war effort," and torched our Jewish village. This was the day that we decided to move to America. I was eleven. -
The Typhoid Comes
My older brother becomes sick in steerage at the age of 16. At first we do not worry; he was coughing, but so were most people. I was convinced it was nothing, until he developed a fever and began to see things, or feel things that none of us could see. I tried to give him the bread that I had brought from Russia, but others more desperate than me stole it for their own families. We did a mourner's Kiddush,for him the next day, according to Jewish custom, and laid my brother to rest. -
Entering Ellis Island
After many days that felt like weeks, we finally saw land again, in the shape of a small, crowded island called Ellis. Once we entered inside, they put us through many inspections, most of which I did not undersatnd, but all of which I passed through. A man in a white jacket looked at me and my brother. He let me pass through, along with my father, but said my five-year-old brother must stay. I missed most of the rushed explanation; but I caught the words "mentaly retarded" and "illiterate." -
Working in New York City
My father and me, having no money, nor any other possesions besides our clothes, go to find work. My father finds a job as a low-wage cashier in New York City. I, meanwhile, worked in a textile mill at the age of eleven. After a couple of weeks, my hands begin hurting me, and began to become very stiff. I told the superviesr about this, but he said to continue working anyway, and that he would take of my weeks pay for complaining. I did not complain again, for fear of getting fired. -
Deciding To Leave
My father was walikng home, after praying at the Synagogue one day, when he heard a shuffling noise. He was almost home when a anti-semite came from behind the alley and started beating him with a stick screaming "dirty jewish immigrant!' He arrived home safely, and told me about the e -
The Immigration Act's impact
Soon, my hands became so stiff that I could not work. I did not complain, but was fired for being too slow. My father put all our spare money into a cheep train-ticket to Seattle, and then was fired from his job. We have not eaten in a week. My dad told me family had been contemplating leaving earlier, in 1891. I wish we had. I would have avoded having my little brother seized at Ellis, and he would have been able to work and to keep me and my father from starvation. -
The Shoe Shop
My father starts a smal shoe-shop in downtown Seattle. The Buliavski shoe-shop becomes increasingly succesfull, and known for high quality. My father lets me run the sales, and help him with accounting. -
Competing Companies
The Buliavski Shoe store started to loose customers to a slightly older store, Wallin Nordstrom, that is starting to be a major competetor. Customers were leaving to the other store in large amounts, and we soon began to loose so much money that being in buisness was something we could not do. -
Farm Life
My father used the savings from our shop to by a peice of land in Killarney, a town close to seattle, and build a small farm with a couple of cows, two horses, and a dozen chickens. My job was to do the labour, such as milking the cows, while my dad worked on the accounting and easier tasks because of his deteriorating health. I miss the store, but I like the farm because you can eat every day. -
The end of my story
On December 6, my father and I had combined our money to buy a tractor for the farm. Five years from the initial pain, the awfull stifness came back to my hands. I didn't tell my father because I don't want him to worry. I used the tractor for a week with no problem. One day, when I am pulling it out in the feilds, my hands stop moving completely. My dad yelled out to me, and took the tractor before it could run me over. He told me to move my hands, but I would never move them again.
