In the third and final part, Jānis Sirms has finally saved enough money and is able to set out on his journey to America. What prompted him to finally embark on this journey? What was the ship voyage like, and what did he experience during it?
"The very next day, I got a job through that German at the Lietoh sugar factory for about a week and a half. Then I was dismissed because I had been hired in place of a sick worker who had recovered, so I was let go. I was unemployed for two weeks, and then I was re-hired at the factory as a stoker. I earned 18 shillings a week. After about 8 or 9 weeks, the former blacksmith from Iliņi farm, Stende, Steinberģis, arrived from Kurzeme, along with another blacksmith named Tilberģis, whom he had met in Tilzit. Tilberģis was also from Talsi, though he had only spent a short time in the Talsi region.
February 12, 1889, Latimer Street 49, Liverpool
(...) Both blacksmiths, Steinbergs and Tilbergs, quickly found work at another sugar factory. Tilberģis did not want to stay longer than necessary—only until he had earned enough money to get to America. He worked here until August, then quit and left for Baltimore in America. He had only saved enough money to pay for his ship ticket. Steinbergs and I each gave him 3 shillings for travel expenses. He promised to write to us from America, and then we would follow him there if things went well.
In August of the same year, another person, Kārlis Birziņš from Spāre, came to see me. He had left home at the same time as Steinbergs. In Memel, he had his entire sum of money, about 80 rubles, stolen by someone named Tehlers from Talsi. They had traveled together and stayed overnight in an inn in Memel. While Birziņš was asleep, Tehlers stole the money from his pocket and fled. Left without money, Birziņš stayed in Memel, where he soon found work loading ships at the harbor, earning some money again. He also received about 30 rubles sent from home and wanted to go to America. But when he arrived in Hamburg, it turned out he still didn’t have enough money. After receiving my address from home, he came to me in Liverpool.
When he arrived here, things were quite bleak at first—he couldn't find work for a long time. After 4-5 weeks, he found a job at a superphosphate factory, where he still works. He is happy that things are going well for him there, earning 25-28 shillings a week.
At first, I got along well with Steinberģis. I hoped that in this foreign land, he would have changed his ways and behaved better than in Russia, where he drank and fought. Initially, it seemed so, but later it turned out that the saying is true: "A leopard cannot change its spots." How much I had to fight with him over some Irish girl. After falling out, I no longer wish to associate with him.
I received two letters from Tilberģis in Baltimore. When he first arrived there, he worked at the harbor on the ships. Later, he got a job at a brass factory. He wrote to me, advising not to go to America before the end of March next year. I am also hesitant to take a blind leap of faith. Starting in November, I began earning 19 shillings a week. I have saved about 7 pounds. However, about 15 shillings were stolen from me by my lodger, a journeyman tailor. I pay 6 pence weekly to the sick fund, from which I receive 10 shillings in sickness benefits if I fall ill.
January 9, 1890, Philadelphia
(...) In March, Birziņš also left Liverpool for Baltimore to join Tilberģis. I stayed on until May at the same place where I was. I had no intention of emigrating, but when I saw that the factory had agreed with its supplier to receive poor-quality coal for the next year, meaning I would have to sweat again, I threw down my shovel on May 8th and prepared to leave for America.
I had saved about 11 pounds. I bought a ship ticket for 70 shillings, and on May 15, 1889, I boarded the ship "British Prince." Around noon, we departed from Liverpool harbor. The weather was pleasant, and we sailed close to the English coast. The next morning, the ship docked at Queenstown in Ireland, where we took on another 60-70 passengers. In total, there were about 700 passengers on the ship—half were English and Irish, a quarter were Scandinavians, and a quarter were Poles and Lithuanians. There were only about 10 Germans.
The weather was nice for the first 3 or 4 days, so I didn't feel uneasy at all. But then a strong wind arose, and the ship rocked violently. Most of the passengers became seasick. I, however, did not get sick the entire time I was on the ship.
There were two deaths on board—a man and a child. I was present at the ceremonies when they were buried at sea. We learned the night before that that the dead man would be buried at sea the next morning. Wanting to witness it, I got up early and went to the ship's deck. It was a gloomy morning, with thunder rumbling and lightning frequently flashing through the dark clouds, dramatically illuminating the ship and the surging, foaming sea.
We didn't have to wait long before the captain came out and ordered the sailors to bring out the corpse. It was laid on a board about 9 feet long, sewn into canvas and weighted down with a couple of heavy iron pieces. A cloth resembling a Jewish prayer shawl was draped over the body. One end of the board was placed on the ship's rail, while a sailor held the other end on his shoulder. The captain ordered everyone present to remove their hats and began reading a short prayer in English. When he said "amen," the sailor raised the end of the board higher, another sailor held onto the cloth covering the body, and the body slid off the board into the sea, where it quickly disappeared into the depths, bubbling as it sank.
Here one could see how fleeting human life is. The deceased man had perhaps intended to travel to a foreign land, to work hard, save money, and maybe return to his homeland. He likely never imagined that in a few days he would sink into the depths of the sea for eternity.
After a 13-day journey, I safely arrived in Philadelphia. Upon disembarking, I immediately boarded a train and traveled to Baltimore. I arrived in Baltimore on May 29th at 6:00 in the morning. I immediately began searching for Tilberģis, whose address I had. I found the place with little difficulty. However, Tilberģis and Birziņš were no longer there. A few weeks earlier, they had left Baltimore to go berry-picking in the countryside.
Soon, I learned through some Jews that there were other Latvians in Baltimore, whom I soon met. First, I became acquainted with someone named Eduards Šmits, then with someone named Rozenbergis, with Langs, and others. I ended up living with the latter."
In the file No. 1981-1v-6 of the Latvian State Archive, one can read about Jānis Sirms' further life in America, but I will not publish rest of his memoirs in this blog.
Roberts Līdums has described the Latvians in Philadelphia in his book Latvieši - brīvības meklētāji (Latvians- the Freedom Seekers, published 1973 in Latvian), which also includes a photograph of Jānis Sirms. It can be viewed in the Digital Library of the Latvian National Library.
Comments