“Good morning, ladies,” a man’s voice came from the doorway.
Everyone turned to see a stout gentleman of medium height with a mustache and thinning hair. He wore a pristine dark morning suit and vest, and a burgundy necktie in the latest fashion. He was an attractive older gentleman, but judging by the way he held his shoulders, he was wound as tight as a bowstring.
“Commissioner Williams, do come in,” Mrs. Keller called. “Ladies, I’d like to introduce you to your new commissioner of operations here at Ellis Island.”
There was an audible gasp by a few of the women. So Fitchie had been fired after all!
Commissioner Williams nodded. “It’s a pleasure to be here in the service of our president, and for the good of our country. I look forward to getting to know you all.”
Helene glanced at Alma, her eyes widening a fraction.
“I intend to make some changes here at the immigration station,” he continued. “There’s a lot of work to be done if we’re to ensure things are running smoothly. Our primary goal is to protect our country from indigents, but we must also treat the immigrants as every human being deserves. If you have any questions or concerns, about anything, please relay them to your supervisor or directly to me. Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir,” they said in unison.
“Very well. Have a good day, ladies. Mrs. Keller.” He nodded and promptly disappeared into the hall.
“Well then,” Mrs. Keller said, grabbing her notebook. “Let’s see about the duties today.”
As Mrs. Keller called off their assignments, Helene shot Alma another look, one that relayed exactly what Alma was thinking: she wondered what kind of changes the commissioner had in mind.
The day flew by in a blur of activity. Alma had been assigned to the registry office again, and one thing after another had gone wrong, souring her good mood from the morning. A child had thrown a tantrum and spilled his milk on the floor, soaking her shoes. After a long wait in line, two men had shoved each other, igniting a shouting match. She’d had to call an inspector to help break up the argument. She’d translated for a hostile gentleman from Germany as well, who’d degraded and insulted her. Frazzled, she glanced at the clock. Two more hours and she could go home, take a break after a very long day.
An inspector waved at Alma from across the room to help with a translation. It was a simple one, and the German fellow thanked her before he continued on his way to the staircase leading to the exit. After, she roamed idly through the massive registry room and glanced up at the arched tiled ceiling, the enormous light fixtures overhead, and the endless windows brightening the space while waiting for her next errand. As she reached the far end of the room, she overheard a snippet of a conversation and paused.
“Like I said, I can make this a lot easier for you,” the inspector said. “We can skip the investigation hearing and you can be on your way.”
Her gaze skimmed over the immigrant’s appearance. He had a smaller stature and light coppery skin, and he walked with a limp. Perhaps there was a medical issue with his leg?
In heavily accented English, a reply. “I give money?”
“That’s right,” the inspector said.
Alma’s brow shot up, and she leaned a bit closer to them.
“I have silver locket?” the immigrant said.
“Cash will get you out of here in under an hour.”
The man set down a small case on the floor and reached inside his jacket for a beat-up wallet. He picked off a few bills.
“That will do nicely,” the inspector said. “Now, let’s see about signing your papers.”
Alma couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Indignant, she approached the inspector’s desk. “Excuse me, can I be of service?” She looked pointedly at the inspector, her eyes straying to the name badge pinned at his breast. Inspector Miller.
“No, we don’t need your help,” the inspector said. “I’m signing the citizenship ledger here, and this gentleman will be on his way.”
The immigrant picked up his suitcase, nodded at Alma politely, and limped through the registry room to the exit.
She stared after him, not sure what to do. The inspector had bribed the man! She wondered if the immigrant would have been deemed unfit with that limp. Surely he had a higher likelihood of becoming a ward of the state. If so, the inspector must—by law—deny him entry. She paused a moment, trying to decide whether or not she should confront the inspector. There was nothing she hated more than confrontation, but she believed the staff at Ellis Island played an important role, one of honor and responsibility, even if the work was disagreeable or difficult at times. They were employees of the United States government! And this was all wrong.
“Excuse me, sir.” She cut off the next immigrant in line and stood at the edge of Inspector Miller’s desk.
“What do you want?” he demanded. Annoyance stamped his features. “As you can see, I’m very busy here.” He gestured at the long line behind her.
“You took that man’s money.”
“Listen here,” the inspector said, eyes narrowed in warning. “I did him a favor. He got a pass when we both know a hearing would see him deported. He was happy to pay a small fee, so mind your own business. Now. Run along, or I’ll report you to the new commissioner for shirking your duties.”
She reddened at his reprimand and continued on her way, doing another turn through the room, the echo of hundreds of voices reverberated through the halls. The inspector was right. What did she know about the situation? Perhaps the immigrant didn’t care about the bribe. She thought of Francesca, how she would have paid any price to make it through inspections and off this island. But Alma was very glad the young woman hadn’t had to do such a thing.
Alma should have known not to speak up; she’d learned from her stepfather it only brought punishment or ridicule. She’d even received a well-timed slap or two from Robert when he’d felt the need to exert his will over hers. Hadn’t she learned to keep quiet and mind her own business?
Perhaps she should keep her mouth shut from now on, just as she’d been taught.
21