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And that was it really.
Unless you have somehow managed to book a trip inside Lady Liberty herself there is nothing there. You arrive on the island, take a few pictures of the statue and leave. Granted the view of Manhattan is even better than from the boat, but even that loses its appeal very quickly.
Next stop, Ellis Island.
Maybe it's because I'm not an American, but I didn’t have high expectations of being interested in the immigration center. Very few of my family's direct ancestors would have passed through these halls. Although, clearly some members of my family must have emigrated because the infamous American McVeigh came from Ireland.
But,the museum really enthralled me. It made me wonder, of all the millions who came through this building in search of a better life, how many made it? How many became the Wall Street traders, the CEOs, the lawyers and the entrepreneurs that made the US what it is today? How many ended up in the same, or worse, poverty than they had in their home countries?
Irish Americans hold a special place in their heart for Ellis Island and Ellis Island itself held the promise of hope for countless thousands of destitute Irish.
Ellis Island shows how far the Irish have come; from being the “Paddys” of the late 19th century to driving and shaping American policy and industry into the 20th century and beyond.
It makes me think of Ireland after the EU expansion. In two or three generations will the current Eastern European immigrants become as Irish as the next green-blooded Sean or Seamus?
But the most powerful impact from Ellis Island was how little history the Irish left behind. There are artifacts from every other ethnic group and very little, if nothing, from the Irish, who seemed to have arrived in America with little more than the clothes they stood up in.
The absence of Irish possessions in the exhibitions highlights the extreme poverty that was rampant at home only 100 years ago.
As for me, I left Elllis Island with a new respect for the immigrants who made that harrowing journey across the ocean.
After learning everything I ever needed to know - and more - about Irish immigration into the US in the early 20th century it was time to get back to the mainland.
Yeah, I know Manhattan is an island too but you know what I mean.
It took me 10 minutes to realise I was in the queue for the New Jersey boat, but eventually I was out on the open sea, heading for home.
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