“Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.”

Ten days across the ocean had passed. Finally, in the distance I caught the first site of the coast of the United States, this place I had heard and dreamed so much about. I had made it. This was the day!

Pulling in to New York Harbor was quite a sight to see. So many ships and ferries were coming and going from every direction. Heading upriver on the Hudson, we saw the famous “Statue of Liberty” that we had all heard so much about. We all crowded on to the deck looking over the left side to catch a glimpse of her. Was this place really all that we had heard it was? I was now so far from home, from Mutti, from the rest of my friends and family except for my brother Gottfried who had arrived a few months before.

Soon, there was an announcement for all passengers to line up with our luggage for debarkation. In all of the excitement of our arrival, I had totally forgotten about the pay that the cook owed me for my assistance on our trip over. Fortunately, the head cook found me in line and pulled me to the side to hand me an envelope. It seemed and felt much bigger and heavier than I expected for my wages. Excitedly, the cook explained that they had taken up a collection for me in the kitchen and wanted to wish me well in America! The envelope was loaded with all kinds of money and change which I would later count to be over fifty dollars. This was a lot of money in 1956 and I could hardly believe it. I thanked him and his kitchen gang over and over, as I knew this would be a great help as I settled into America over the next few days and weeks.

I only had two small bags and because I was out of line talking and thanking the cook, by the time I got to the immigration control they had closed for lunch. Normally, this would not have been a problem except I had given my bags to a group of other passengers that had told me they were also going to Grand Central Rail Station and the porter would take all the bags together there. I couldn’t leave until I went through immigration, but now my bags were already gone!

An hour went by before they returned and I finally got immigration approval and my green card. All alone again I walked out into the United States of America! The sidewalks towards the station were filled with vendors of all sorts. I asked one of the vendors for directions and he smiled and handed me a hot dog! What?! My first American hot dog! I was happy, but worried about my bags.

When I got to Grand Central Station I asked again for directions but was told,
“it’s easy, just listen.” So I tried, and out of the loud speakers blared, “Kreissst no stat Boston” What? I tried listening better but could not make out what was being said. “Bbbrai abus gbrrazz Boston” What?? My two years of English failed me so I just started walking around.

Coming to one of the platforms I could not believe my eyes. There were my bags sitting in the middle with people all around, and not a single person touched my bags. Unbelievable! It was 1956 and I could hardly believe this was how honest Americans were in those days!

The train to Boston came on time and my brother and his sponsor Mariner Air picked me up. I was totally exhausted, but as happy as could be on my first day in America! – Jochen

My father’s story is everything you’ve heard about those who came to America seeking a new life. That first sight to the Statue of Liberty to welcome them to their new home. “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.” He had already lived through so much in his home country. He had seen what can happen when evil, greedy, men take over a nation. He had lived what happens to a country afterwards when those evil men failed, leaving behind the ruins of war and the shame of what wrongs were done in the German name. Now was his chance to start a new, to leave behind the past and the war and all of it, and make something for himself in the land of the free!

The first picture is the actual ship that my father took to America. The USS General Langfit, on August 30th, 1956 from Bremerhaven, Germany to New York, New York USA. His sponsor was Milton Babcock from Suffolk County, Massachusetts who was part of the Lutheran Church who sponsored war refugees.

The Lutheran Church in the United States played a significant role in sponsoring German war refugees in the 1950’s. The end of World War II left millions of people displaced in Europe, including many Germans who had been expelled from Eastern Europe or had lost their homes. Local Lutheran congregations often played a vital role in sponsoring refugee families, providing housing, financial assistance, and community support. The passage of the Displaced Persons Act in 1948 in the United States opened the doors for many European refugees, including Germans like my father. This act, and subsequent amendments, allowed for the admission of hundreds of thousands of displaced Persons.

This is where I found the document that is included in “Coming to America”. It is so fascinating, not only hearing first hand accounts of this journey, but finding the actual documents that went along with this. He was not just on any ship coming to America, he was on a ship of “displaced people”. He and everyone on that ship came into this country ready to rebuild their lives, with sponsors all over this great country.

They came with a dream, they came seeking freedom, and they came for a better life in a country they heard so much about after the end of such a horrendous war. I don’t have to tell you why my father’s experience as a refugee or displaced person multiple times throughout his life makes turning on the news these days incredibly hard for both my father and I.

To hear of refugee resettlement being stopped and the terrible ways refugees and immigrants are being treated and spoken about in our country now is absolutely heartbreaking, and goes against everything my father and many others read as they first entered this country as hopeful “displaced Persons”

“Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.”

What has happened to this message in America? What has America become where we turn our backs to those in search of better lives after experiencing atrocities most can’t even imagine?

I feel that if a statue could cry, today, she would be weeping.