We haven't done an archive article in a while, so I thought it was time we sifted through the dust and found one.
Reading these articles from the past is always so poignant. I have to wonder: Did Chain, the little stowaway, ever find his mother in New York? Or did he get shipped back to Poland, where he feared being killed by his father, HIRSH KLEINMAN, for running away? Or did Chain get sent back and manage to survive--only to become one of the millions of Polish Jews slaughtered in the Holocaust 35 years later?
We see many contemporary stories like this one, too. But these days, the stories involve children from Latin American coming here to search for their mothers.
From the New York Times, September 14, 1907
http://query.nytimes.com/mem/archive-free/pdf?res=9E05E6DC103EE033A25757C1A96F9C946697D6CF
LITTLE STOWAWAY FLED FROM RUSSIA
12-Year old Son of Cruel Father Escaped Across Frontier and Hid on Barbarosa.
SEEKING HIS MOTHER HERE
Will be Deported if Relatives Do Not Claim Him--Declares He Will Die if Returned Home
In the detention quarters at Ellis Island is a little lad, who with only two rubles in his pocket fled from his father's home in Poland, stole across the Russian frontier, stowed away on the steamship Barbarossa at Bremen, and come to this country in search of this mother. With her are the lad's brother and two sisters.
Unless some of the family appear, and in a few days, the little adventurer will be sent back to Bremen. His story as told by himself is known to every immigrant inspector at the Island, and they are sorry for the lad.
Chain Shlome Kleinman is the name of the stowaway, and he is 12 years old, but looks four years younger. His home was on the outskirts of Warsaw. His father, Hirsh Kleinman, was very harsh to the boy, he says. But the harshness dates only back to three years ago, when Chain's mother left home to seek her fortune in America. With her went Hannah, aged 11; Rachel, aged 4, and Jacob, aged 18. They came to New York, as subsequent letters to Hirsh Kleinman showed. But their address was not given.
When the mother and Chain's sisters and big brother left home there remained only his father and himself. It was very lonely for Chain. To be sure, there were his playmates, the neighbors' children, but they did not take the place of Rachel, Hannah, and Jacob.
To make matters worse Chain says his father decided that work was good for him, so he was put to work in a state mine. The pay was 3 rubles (about $1.50) a week, and this was drawn by his father. Sometimes he was allowed a few small coins. The work was hard. The hours were from 7 in the morning until 9 o'clock at night, with only a few minutes at noon to eat the scanty luncheon his father provided.
Chain's hands soon became cut and bruised by the sharp pieces of slate. But this was no excuse for him to quit work. There were no vacations.
Six weeks ago the child determined to run away. One night he crawled out his bedroom window and headed on foot for the frontier. Two rubles was all the money he had for the journey to America. He was determined to come here in search of his mother and his brother and sisters.
For many days the boy tramped the roads, sleeping at night in haystacks or in barns or wherever he could find a soft spot to lay his head. The frontier was finally reached. His passport was demanded. He had none, and was turned back by the official. But Chain had a ruble left. The other he spent in little dribblets for food. He crept back to the back frontier and offered it to one of the officials, he says. This was at Vitipsk. The lad was allowed to cross.
By begging Chain managed to reach Crakow, where he told his story to a family who were about to start to New York. They were touched by his tale, and agreed to take the lad to Bremen. When they reached there the Barbarossa was ready to set sail. Chain's new-found friends went on board. He attempted to follow, but was held up by one of the steamship officers.
"But my father is on board there, and I want to get to him!" said Chain to the officer. He was allowed to go aboard. Once there he hid in the steerage.
The vessel was five days out before Chain was discovered by one of the assistant pursers. He was taken before the Captain, and when New York was reached was turned over to immigration officials.
Chain says he will die if he is taken back to his old home. He fears his father would kill him from running away, he says. The little fellow's hands still show the effect of the work in the state mine. He says that he has an uncle, Morris Jacobson, and a cousin, Max Weiserman, somewhere in New York.