Tevye the Dairyman & Motl the Cantor's Son

by Sholem Aleichem

  As you can well imagine, our friend Pinni flares up like a match. He looks at my brother Elyahu, but he’s really speaking to the tailor. How does he know so much about the laws of Ellis Island? he asks him. The tailor tells him he made the acquaintance of another emigrant on the ship, a man who had traveled back and forth three times. He must be speaking of the old sea dog. From him the tailor learned about all the rules and regulations—and many more things about America, so many that he felt he was an American already. He even knew how to speak the American language—for example: chicken, kitchen, sugar, mister, butcher, bridge. What those words meant he wouldn’t say.

  “When we get there,” Pinni says, “we’ll find out for ourselves what they mean.” He dismisses the tailor with a wave of the hand and steps aside, as if to say, You might as well listen to a dog bark.

  E .

  Don’t you think it happens exactly as the Heissen tailor predicted? Not a hair’s difference! Once we’ve passed through the seven stages of hell administered by the doctors, they ask us who we have in America. My mother steps forward. “Better ask who we don’t have here,” she says, and gets ready to name all our friends and relatives. It’s a pleasure to look at her now that they’ve let her through with her weepy eyes. She’s no longer a young woman, but she’s still charming. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen my mother glow as she does now.

  But my brother Elyahu won’t let her speak—the addresses, he says, are written on a piece of paper. Then Pinni interrupts and says they’re asking for names, not addresses. Bruche cuts him off, saying that for all intents and purposes Pinni has no one in America. All the friends and relatives are ours. Pinni gets exasperated. “How are Fat Pessi and her husband Moishe the bookbinder more your friends than mine?” he says. Bruche says Pessi can go to hell—when she speaks of relatives, she means her father Yoneh the baker. Maybe my brother Elyahu is right—they aren’t asking about friends but about relatives. And a to-do begins about their addresses.

  F.

  For reading the list of their addresses aloud, understandably, Pinni is the most qualified of us all. He takes the paper from my brother Elyahu, brings it up close to the tip of his nose, and reads the addresses with the same singsong that you use at wedding ceremonies. But no one understands what he’s saying. Every word comes out wrong. My brother Elyahu tears the paper with the addresses from his hands and gives it to an official.

  The official says two words: “All right.”

  We don’t know what that means. The Heissen tailor says he knows what it means. Those two words, when spoken together, he says, mean that things will go as we wish.

  Then the officials collect our coins and send off two telegrams, one to Moishe the bookbinder and his wife Fat Pessi, the other to Yoneh the baker. In the meantime we treat ourselves to a meal. It isn’t that good. The little bit of tea they serve, Bruche says, you could cut with a knife. But the meal doesn’t cost us anything. On Ellis Island everything is free. Having satisfied our hunger, we settle in to wait for our friends and families.

  G .

  Waiting is easier said than done. Our eyes almost creep out of our heads before we see a familiar face. The first to arrive are our neighbors Fat Pessi and her husband Moishe the bookbinder. We don’t actually see them—we are, as you remember, confined. We’re informed that a fat woman and her husband have come to see us. We realize it must be Pessi and her Moishe. They’re not allowed to see us but are being held in the examination room, which upsets us very much.

  Someone advises us to tip the guards at the door, and maybe they’ll allow them to visit, even if from a distance. But our friend Pinni says that America is not Russia—in America you don’t bribe.

  Our Heissen tailor, who pops up everywhere, pops up now and says it’s the same the whole world over: “Gold and silver make bastards legal.”

  Pinni is speechless.

  H .

  Naturally the Heissen tailor is right. For a quarter, we can see our neighbor Pessi through the bars. Her red face and triple chins are sweating as she smiles at us from afar. My mother nods at her as both shed tears. From behind her broad back her husband Moishe peeks out, no longer wearing a Russian hat, as at home, but an American cap. Then in a moment Yoneh with his angry eyes appears. He’s hardly changed at all, except for his beard—oy vey! What’s happened to this beard! His wife of the fur cape also comes. We want to greet them, to hug and kiss them, to ask them how they are and what’s new in the world. How’s life here in America? For my part, I’m dying to know where Vashti is. And how is Bruche’s little sister Alteh? And how are the rest of the gang? But what can we do? We can’t budge. We’re locked up. We can only see through the bars. We’re like prisoners or convicts, or beasts.

  I .

  It’s a pity—our poor friend Pinni can’t look us straight in the eyes. He’s ashamed for America. You could swear it’s his own America and that he’s responsible for what happens here. He develops a hatred for Ellis Island and makes fun of it by calling it Ellie’s Island. This hurts my brother Elyahu’s feelings, because his name sounds like Ellie. This leads to the usual quarrel. Bruche intrudes, this time taking Pinni’s side, citing a proverb: “Don’t kick a dog when he’s down.” What can she mean by that?

  IV

  A SEA OF TEARS

  A .

  As if we don’t have enough of our own troubles, God has ordained that we share other people’s troubles on Ellis Island. As if my mother’s tears flowing since my father’s death aren’t enough, she now has to shed tears over others’ misfortunes. Almost every minute God presents her with a new tragedy. My mother takes everything to heart. She wrings her hands, hides her face, and cries quietly.

  “You sin, Mama!” my brother Elyahu says to her, and I think he’s right. What does she have to cry about? We aren’t dragging ourselves around the world anymore. We’ve survived the voyage across the ocean, thank God. We’re almost in America. Another hour, another two hours, and we’ll be free. But how can a person not cry when surrounding him is so much misfortune, so many reasons for tears, for a sea of tears?

  To convey to you all the misfortunes we’ve seen on Ellis Island, I’d have to sit down with you for a day and a night and talk and talk and talk.

  B .

  What will you say to this story? A father and mother and their four children were detained, not able to go back, not able to come here. During the examination a twelve-year-old daughter of theirs could not count backward. The official asked her how old she was, and she said, “Twelve years old.” They asked her further, “How old were you a year ago at this time?” She didn’t know. They said, “Count from one to twelve.” She did. Then they told her to count from twelve backward to one. She couldn’t. If they had asked me to do that, it would have been easy—no problem! They decide they cannot allow the girl to come to America.

  To witness the agony of those parents and the misery of that child, you’d have to be made of stone. When Mother even catches sight of them, she breaks into tears. Bruche and Teibl can’t keep from crying either. Now ask yourself, what will happen to the parents and to the other children?

  C .

  Or how do you like this story? A woman has been traveling with us named Tzivyeh. Her husband left her long ago. She sent out letters all over and received news that her husband was in Cincinnati, a city in America. So now she’s going there to catch him. The “old sea dog” I told you about advised her to find some man in New York who would say he is her husband, and she would be allowed in. The Heissen tailor got mixed up in it too. The old sea dog tried to get a close friend to claim he was her husband. Finally the officials realized it was all a sham. The man was married and had nothing to do with the abandoned wife. Oh my, what went on then! All of Ellis Island went into an uproar.

  Our friend Pinni got his revenge on the Heissen tailor. Although in his heart Pinni despised Ellis Island for detaining us, he wouldn’t show it to the Heissen tailor. To hell with him! Instead he even rubbed it in
: “So, Mr. Tailor? Didn’t I say that America is not Russia? In America they don’t tolerate shams or tricks or cheating. Long live Columbus!”

  But still he caught it from my mother, and even more so from Bruche. His wife Teibl added a little dig. In fact, the women almost scratched his eyes out for laughing at someone who was bleeding. My mother befriended the abandoned wife, becoming like a sister to her. Ellis Island will be sending the abandoned wife back, but the man who pretended to be her husband won’t be let off so easily. In the meantime they’re both detained, and my mother is beside herself.

  D.

  A young, innocent-looking wife is going to Boston to rejoin her husband. With her is her little girl with curly hair, pretty as a picture, named Ketzele. The girl’s real name is Kayla, after her grandmother, but they call her Ketzele. She isn’t yet three years old, but she runs around and talks and sings and dances. We met them on Prince Albert. Everyone there was in love with this child. They hugged and kissed her and passed her around from hand to hand. Ketzele! Ketzele! We’d become very attached to her young mother too. She never left my mother’s side for a moment and poured her heart out to her and read us all her husband’s letters. They hadn’t seen each other for over three years. He’s never seen his child. He dreams of her day and night and can’t let himself believe that he’ll soon set eyes on his daughter, his Ketzele. The young wife weeps, and my mother wipes her own eyes. I laugh at them both—why do they need to cry? I take Ketzele in my arms and feed her pieces of apple and orange, right in her mouth. Ketzele looks into my eyes, laughs, and pets me with her silken little hands as I kiss her small, warm fingers. Too bad I don’t have a paintbox, or I’d paint Ketzele on paper with her curly silken hair, her pretty blue eyes, and her face like an angel’s. My friend Mendl laughs at me for playing with a “doll.” To him she is just a doll!

  As we were approaching America, Ketzele fell deathly ill. A chill passes over my body when I remember that time. That child took a part of me with her. I can barely speak about it or even think about it. Don’t make me tell you what they did with Ketzele. I’ll just tell you about the sorrow of the young mother when we reached Ellis Island. She didn’t cry. She stared at everyone with glassy eyes. Whenever anyone asked her a question, she didn’t answer. Now people are afraid the young woman has gone mad and will be sent back. My mother is frantic. My brother Elyahu is beside himself. He can’t bear our mother’s tears any longer. And Pinni hides and cannot be found.

  E .

  Do you think only Jews have problems on Ellis Island? Gentiles also have their troubles. A large group of Italians have been traveling with us, all wearing velvet pants and wooden shoes. When they walk, they clop like horses. They’re fine Gentiles, excellent people. They’re crazy about me. They call me a strange name, piccolo bambino. They give me nuts and raisins from their velvet pants pockets, and I rather like that. I can’t speak with them because they don’t understand my language and I don’t understand theirs, but I love to hear them talk among themselves. Their r’s come out hard: “Buona serrra!” “Mio carrro!” “Prrrego signorrra!”

  Then a terrible thing happened to them. When they were being examined, one of them innocently let slip that a contractor in London had hired them to work on a bridge in America. That’s not legal. So they’re going to be sent back. They speak all at once, gesticulate wildly, and roll their r’s: “Sacrrramento!” But nothing helps. They are greatly to be pitied. Several of them have tears in their eyes.

  F.

  Mazel tov! We have a wedding on Ellis Island! How did this happen? Listen. An orphan girl from Chudnov named Leah, dark-haired, charming, and friendly, became very close to our three women during the journey. They became one soul. Our women learned she was alone and had no one in America. For many years she had worked hard, saved some money, and was going to America. She couldn’t live in Chudnov anymore. They had killed her father in a pogrom, and her mother had died of grief. She was left on her own. Good people took care of her and taught her a trade—she could sew, knit, iron, and embroider. “Golden hands,” my mother said of her. Everyone is sure that in America she’ll be given all the work she needs, and she’ll find a good husband. Leah lowers her eyes and blushes. The problem is that she has no one in America to receive her.

  But there’s a bachelor on the Prince Albert, Lazer Bach. He’s a carpenter and is going to his uncle in Chicago. Lazer is a rough-looking redhead with very thick lips, but I like him for his songs. He sings Yiddish songs beautifully. So it was decided: since Lazer had someone to receive him and Leah had no one, Lazer Bach would say Leah was his fiancée. Of course this ruse was thought up by none other than our old sea dog. And here’s what happened. At the examination they appeared together as bride-to-be and groom-to-be. Sounds good? It turns out that on Ellis Island it doesn’t work that way. If you are engaged, you must have a wedding there before they’ll let you leave. Leah wept. We consoled her: “What do you care, little silly? You’ll get to the city, and he’ll give you a divorce, and you’ll be the same Leah as before.” “But what if he won’t?” the fearful Leah asks. We reply, “Is being sent back better?”

  In short, we have a wedding, a sad wedding without klezmer, but with an assistant rabbi and many tears, no end of tears, a sea of tears.

  G .

  Only one person is happy. Can you guess who? It’s the Heissen tailor. He’s lived to triumph over our friend Pinni. Who can compare with the Heissen tailor? He sees nothing but welcoming parades in front of us, strokes his beard, and peers at Pinni through his shiny eyeglasses. But Pinni is cleverer than he. He sticks the point of his nose into a book, pretending not to see the tailor. He couldn’t care less!

  H.

  Our own troubles, and other people’s troubles, put a damper on our joy at finally being in America. We’ve seen and heard so much sadness here on Ellis Island that we’re exhausted. We gather our family close together and stare at the vast, busy city that stands in the distance. Do you know what we look like? We look like a flock of sheep on a hot summer’s day, huddled together in a field near the railway tracks, looking bewildered as a train noisily rushes by and vanishes. Too bad I don’t have a pencil and a sheet of paper to draw our huddled family and all the other confined emigrants on Ellis Island, each sitting on his bundle. Some sigh and tell one another what is in their bitter hearts. Others remain silent, and still others weep, bathed in tears, in a sea of tears.

  V

  WITH BOTH FEET ON THE GROUND

  A .

  If you’ve never sailed on the ocean, never spent ten days and ten nights on the water, never been confined on Ellis Island; if you’ve never witnessed or listened to your fill of troubles, sorrows, and pain, never bathed in a sea of tears, nor awaited those who are supposed to deliver you—then you can’t feel the joy of finally standing with both feet on the ground. If I weren’t afraid of my brother Elyahu, or embarrassed to be seen by others, I’d fall to the ground and then somersault three times. That’s how good it feels to be standing with both feet on solid ground. You can understand why even a pessimistic man like my brother Elyahu wears a new expression on his face. He rubs his hands together and says to us all, “Are we really in America?”

  “With the help of the One Above, praised be His name!” My mother looks up to the sky. Then she adds with a deep sigh, “The living have made it here, but the one who lies in the earth has not.”

  By this she means my father. Nowhere and never does she forget my father for as much as a moment.

  B .

  More enthusiastic than anyone is our friend Pinni. I hesitate to say it, but he’s going crazy. He plants himself with his face toward the ocean, raises his right hand in a fist, and proclaims:

  “Listen, you asses, brutes, drunks, hooligans, and pogromchiks! We have you to thank for our being here in this free, fortunate land! If not for you and your persecution, cruel laws, and pogroms, we wouldn’t know about Columbus and Columbus wouldn’t know about us! You will wait a long time b
efore we come back to you! Just as you never can see your own ears, you will never see us in your lives! One day you will look around and realize you had the people of Israel with you and didn’t know how to appreciate them! You will have a miserable end, just like old Spain. You will whine like dogs. One day you will miss us! There will not remain so much as a single Jew. You’ll call us back, but that’ll be the day!”

  Who knows how long Pinni would carry on if Yoneh the baker didn’t lay a hand on his back and say, “Pinni! God be with you! To whom are you speaking? To the stones? Come! We’ll be late for the ferry! Or would you rather spend another night on Ellis Island?”

  We gather our bundles and make our way to the ferry.

  C .

  But this is only a matter of speaking. We’re not allowed on so quickly. You forget, we’re carrying an extra burden on our hands—my friend Mendl. They’re not letting him out, but without him we won’t move. My mother says she won’t be able to rest in America if, God forbid, they send the orphan back, who knows where. Luckily we are to meet with a group of people called the Assembly of Guests that has a representative on Ellis Island, a fine man, very dedicated. It is to this man that we are directed. We tell him the truth about the boy. Of course we all speak at once.