New York City's extensive history as a hub of immigration has defined it for hundreds of years. However, little about the lives of immigrants once they cross the threshold of Ellis Island is known if they don’t ‘make it big’ in their lifetime. They become another number in the census, just one drop in the most recent wave. Many sought New York’s fabled shores to support their families and escape discrimination; the majority arrived with spouses, children, and other relations. But where did they go? What happened during those years in a new home? Was the ‘promised land’ of New York as welcoming as they had been told?
The Tenement Museum in the Lower East Side seeks to answer these questions. This converted tenement building quite literally holds history in its floorboards, as I learned during a virtual presentation on spiritualism’s importance in the lives of immigrants, Mystics in Manhattan. From tarot and palm reading to Ouija boards and wall-knocking, the supernatural gripped the nation during the early 20th century. It especially captured the attention of immigrant families whose cultural practices adapted to the mainstream and provided supplemental support for those who could not easily attain jobs. While many men found work at the shipyards and factories that kept New York running, they did not always earn enough to support a family. Cities are expensive—when eight people share a two-bedroom apartment, cost of living can rapidly outweigh income. Sisters, daughters, and wives frequently turned to spiritualism to make extra cash from their own living room.
Much like the titular character of Ralph Ellison’s The Invisible Man, these women flew under the radar while still acting as integral parts of their communities. One such person was revived when the museum remodeled their upper story and found dozens of advertisements for a "Dora Meltzer, World Famous Palmist” and Jewish immigrant, stuffed into the floor and staircase. Like the invisible man, Meltzer was barred from most well-paying jobs due to racism; by bringing mysticism to the Yiddish-speaking community she was able to augment her family’s income and grow familiar with her newfound neighbors. This mirrors the invisible man's journey with the Brotherhood, a relationship built on shared experience and freedom from the shadows of society. Finding common language and values in a new world (literally in Meltzer’s case and figuratively in the invisible man’s) was a comfort to them both after years of ostracization. Quick wit and adaptability kept them afloat in a system constructed to make sure they failed.
Capitalizing on the era’s spiritualist obsession gave Meltzer freedom to care for her children and keep a home while still earning money the way a career as a laundress or housemaid could not—likewise, the invisible man could live as an amateur philosopher by leaving the few traditional occupations he was permitted in the dust. While neither lived in luxury due to period-typical prejudice, they kept the lights on and the table set with their ingenuity. Meltzer and the invisible man faced a similar burial, yet he was able to escape on his own while she was not given that grace. Overshadowed by spiritualists like the Fox sisters and Cora L.V. Scott, Dora Meltzer was just one of many brilliant unknowns in the long census list until her flyers were found.
New York City offered Meltzer and the invisible man hollow promises that they overcame with their own cleverness in the absence of systemic aid. Prejudice against Black and Jewish Americans continues in the modern era; it makes one curious about immigrants entering the United States today, and where they are finding their path at this very moment. Perhaps they are like Meltzer, giving their local community access to current trends. Perhaps they are like the invisible man, connecting with their neighbors in the ongoing fight for civil rights. I wonder how many more of their predecessors we would find if we dug a little deeper into the past?
No comments:
Post a Comment