| Theodosiy
Talpash
In 1936, the Ukrainian National Association of the United States of
America published a Jubilee book in
commemoration of the 40th Anniversary of its existence. It is an important
chronicle of the first Ukrainians in the United States,
their first steps on the new land, and the history of their organizational
life. Theodosiy Talpash, the first president of the Ukrainian National
Association, was asked to contribute his "Recollections".
The following is a very direct translation (by Orest Talpash) from the
original Ukrainian, of pp.270-5 of the Jubilee book of the Ukrainian National
Association, Svoboda Press, Jersey City, NJ. 1936.
(Note the discrepancy in dates and age as recorded in the US Census of 1900
and of 1910, and in these "Recollections" recorded in the early 1930s.)
From My
Recollections
I first became interested in America when I was serving with the Austrian army
in Pol on the Adriatic Sea, and later with the Austrian Gendarmerie in
Bosnia during the first years of its
occupation by the Austrian Army. I
carried on an active correspondence with the brothers Stefan and Peter Murdza,
who were originally from my home village, Labowa, county of Nowy
Sacz, about their life and experiences in America. On
returning from military and gendarmerie service to my native village, I began
evaluating the prospects which would await me on the family estates, with life
in America which the Murdzas
described in their letters, describing life at the Pennsylvania coal mines.
My father was a well-to-do estate-owner, but there were 6 of us boys and of them
I was the oldest. Although father
was a well-off, how prosperous could we be, his sons?--thought
I.
And so in 1880, in my 23rd year, I left on my own for
Hamburg and bought steamship passage to
America. When I arrived on this shore, I bought a
ticket at the railroad station, for Shamokin, Pennsylvania, where my fellow-countrymen
Murdzas lived. I paid for this
ticket -- I remember as if today -- 3 dollars and 16 cents. It was the 4th of April when I boarded
the Pennsylvania train and rode off to the west
into the unknown land.
I searched for my fellow
countrymen.
I got into Shamokin in the morning. I had written to Stefan Murdza to come
to the train station to meet me, but when I arrived at the station, there was no
one. With luggage in hand I walked
out into the street of this strange town, in this strange country, and looked
around, not knowing what to do, where to turn. A man who looked like one of us walked
by, so I asked him where Stefan Murdza lived. "What?"--he asked me, instead of
replying. "Don't what me", I told him, "speak in a civil manner, the way I spoke
to you". He led me to a grocery store.
He likely thought that the grocer would know where Murdza lived because
Murdza probably bought groceries from him.
The grocer, a German, Shuman, saw me and was as happy to see me as he
might have been for his own father.
He asked me where I was from, who I was, and what I wished to do. He stood me on the store scale and
weighed me. When he saw that I
weighed 204 lbs, he actually slapped his thighs: "Now that's the kind they ought to send
us here to America!" I inquired to him about
Murdza. No, he did not know Murdza
but not to be surprised that my countryman did not meet me at the station. In Shamokin mail was not delivered to
homes because it was just too small of a town. Everyone went to the post office for his
own mail and usually those who work, have a chance perhaps once a week to pick
up their mail. It is very likely that this must have happened with my fellow
countryman.
Where to live?
What to do?
This German found me a place to stay at the home of a
Slovak, at whose home boarded other Slovaks. To tell the truth, I wanted to live with
one of my own, but at that time there still were none. Now that I found a place
to stay, I immediately started thinking about getting a job. I started by asking my landlord. He told me that finding a job just now
was difficult, but he would make an effort to find one for me, but in any case,
I would have to wait. He also asked
another Slovak in German whether he wouldn't ask some German for work. I understood what they were saying to
each other, and smiled. The Slovak
with whom my landlord was speaking saw this and said to the landlord: "Hang on, because I think he understands
German!" "Yes", I said, "I also
understand German." "If so", they said, "You will have a job by Monday." They knew a "boss", a German-born man
who hired only Germans. And Monday morning they went to speak with this "boss"
(who's name was Anton Jung) and that same day I started work as a laborer in a
mine. The work was ordinary, and for me not too difficult. I was not afraid of work, and if I had
any trouble in the mines, it was simply this: that it took me a long time to
learn to walk in such a way as to not strike my head on the cross
beams.
The first payday
I worked 18 days as a laborer in the mines for this
German before I got my first pay in America. My boss said to me on this
first payday: "You worked for me 18
days. Because you are new, I can pay you only $9.00 a week. If you stay on, I will pay you $10.00 a
week. Is that all right?" I agreed
with him, not showing what I really thought. Had he known, what I was thinking, when
I heard that I would be making $9.00 a week! Had he known how quickly I had
mentally changed these $9.00 into Austrian money, how wealthy I felt! "Did I
wish to stay with him longer?" Who
wouldn't stay with him for money like this? And I stayed on with him. I worked like a mule. I know that my German was pleased with
my work because not once did he admonish me.
Second work place
I worked for Jung for 3 months. After 3 months, another German, Franke
by name, said that he was prepared to pay me $12.00 a week if I went to work for
him. I agreed to this proposition
but told Franke: "You give me a
good offer, but permit me to tell Jung about this first. He was the first to give me work in
America and it would not be
appropriate for me to leave him without first discussing it with him. "Oh, of
course", said Franke. "Go ahead." I
told Jung that Franke was offering me $12.00 a week and would he be upset with
me if I left. "Be upset with you if you were to go to work for a better
pay?" says Jung. "Oh no. In America you go
where it is better for you, and no one can be upset with you. I myself would go on to better work if I
were to be paid better." And so I went to work for Franke for $12.00 a week, and
after three months he raised my salary to $15.00 a week. In those days this was such a huge sum
that no one would believe me when I told people this. But they believed me only
when I showed them my pay statement from my
boss.
Meeting with a
Countryman
After about a month in America, I met
with my countryman Stefan Murdza.
We met completely by accident.
One evening I was walking down the street, and he was walking toward
me. We recognized each other at the
same instant. You can imagine how
we greeted one another. In those
days in Shamokin there were no more than 20 of our people. That is why no matter where one went one
looked for his own. In the event
that they met, they greeted each other as brothers, even if they had been
enemies back home. Upon meeting,
they would embrace almost to the point of suffocation. Tears would come to their eyes on
hearing one's mother tongue. They
immediately went to a saloon, bought each other drinks, talked about their
experiences, and mostly about their mother country. Life was so lonely, that
today one finds it difficult to understand how one could endure it. Furthermore, all were single men. Among
our people in Shamokin there was not one man with a wife. All were either single
men, or men who had left their wives in the old country. This was one reason for the lack of
permanence of this immigration.
Even though new people kept arriving, others kept returning. A man would come for a few months, earn
the money he spent paying his way across, worked to make 2 or 3 stives (or a few
hundred guldens), and then chains could not bind him to America. Often I spoke and tried to persuade them
to stay longer, save up more money, but this did not help. One should not be too
surprised at this, when one takes into account that there was no organized
community life for us.
Organizing our own
church
After I had lived in Shamokin for some time, a
momentous event for our people occurred.
The first Ukrainian National Business was organized. Dr. Volodymyr
Semenovich, Mr. Janovich, and Mr. Karpovich worked in it, and one of the
directors was Antin Veslotskij. But this wasn't the need which we felt most
urgently; it was that our people did not have their own church. Our people lived mostly in homes
of Poles who had immigrated before us and were somewhat acclimatized to
America.
Polish landlords treated our people quite
brutishly. Many were former manor
stable boys or servants who, having earned some money in America thought
that they had latched-on to the leg of God Himself. They established a rule that
our people would pay 50 cents a head to attend the Polish Catholic Church, and
on Sunday the landlord brought home from the church other former servants such
as he had been, and would order our people to fetch beer for them. When our boarder fetched a keg the
landlord drank with his guests and would only once-in-a-while offer our man a
glass of his own beer. Our people went to the Polish church, paid their
allocated tithe, donated other materials and offerings, but did not enjoy equal
rights. The Polish priests always spoke of them with contempt; the Polish parish
priest in Shamokin did not speak differently about them except to say: "--and
you, you dark-faced Ruthenians-" You might imagine our joy when at last our own
priest, Father Woliansky came to visit.
The first service was held in the town of Shenandoah and our people from all the
surrounding towns came to this church. I don't know from where so many people
appeared, but we filled the church. Obviously people came from absolutely
everywhere. Within a day of that service the Polish priest came to the Ruthenian
National Business and I personally witnessed his asking whether it was true that
a priest had come to visit us.
"True", we said. "But do you
have permission?" "We have." "From where?" "We have from somewhere." "But we,
Poles, do not permit this." The quarrel that flamed up from this incident was so
sharp that Teliowskij, who worked in the store grabbed the Pole and threw him
out the door with such force that he fell on his face in the middle of the
street. We prepared for every
eventuality, but from the Polish side there was no retaliation. We carried on with the service and the
Poles just did not show up. It was
as if they didn't exist.
Troubles with the
Irish
We also had plenty of similar problems with the
Irish. At first our people in
Shamokin were Ukrainians from Lemkian and Western
Carpathian lands.
Before long, people from Podilia began arriving. As time went on there
were more of us who did not wish to return at once to our native country. They then started thinking about
marriage. At first they would send for their girlfriends from the old country,
and the girls arrived already spoken for.
Some immigrant would know some girl in the old country and wrote to her
to come to join him. If he sent
money the girl came with enthusiasm.
After a while girls came from other areas of America, knowing
that it was possible to find a husband.
Afterward, when the miners learned that in some areas such as in Pasaik,
in the state of New
Jersey, there were a lot of girls, they went there as if
to a market place. We once had an occurrence with the Irish: There was a wedding of one of our fellow
countrymen. It was just getting
started when a band of Irishmen came into the hall. They ordered us out. If any objected they physically threw
him out. They sat at the tables,
ate our food, and drank our drinks. But this was the first and last time. At the next wedding we were organized
and when any Irishman even walked near the hall he was dealt with. We realized early that they were quite
uncivilized, and we could not fear them; if one didn't fear them they were quite
cowardly. When we realized this we
could thenceforth deal with them.
Then when the authorities nabbed the famous Irish McGuire gang and hanged
18 of them, some in Sunbury, others in Patsville, then all fears of the Irish
disappeared.
The Beginnings of a Self-Help
Organization
When the self-help society "Soiedyneniie" was organized, I enrolled
and at the convention was elected Treasurer. The president, Mr. Zhyndczak-Smitt, gave
me a bag for money and said that I must diligently record income and expenses.
To "Soiedyneniie" belonged Galician and Hungarian societies. It promised a sum of $400.00 to a named
beneficiary at the death of a member. As Treasurer, I immediately became
involved in disagreements with the Hungarian Greek Catholic priests who directed
"Soiedyneniie" at the time. As soon
as I received funds from some branch organization, then some priest, one or the
other, took the money for his own needs.
One needed something for his church, another needed to pay for passage
for his wife, and so on. Finally I said to Zhyndczak-Smitt, "Mr. President, this
can not go on. What will the people say?
What sort of report am I to give the convention? They not only take the money, but refuse
to give me receipts." Zhyndczak nodded as if he wanted to say that this should
not be, but left the matter with me and he himself did nothing. I went to him again, gave him back the
bag of money, gave him the $50.00 in cash and compelled him to take the
responsibility for the executive. Later I spoke with our parish priest, Father
Konstankevich. He said: "This must
be investigated". In time he told
me that he looked into the matter and became convinced that "Soiedyneniie" was
run by priests. "This organization is not for us", said he. "We need our own organization." At the convention in Scranton Father
Konstankevich criticized the executive "Soiedyneniie" for financial
irregularities. "How can you manage
this way", said he, "that you collect money from members and there is nothing in
the treasury?" To this a Hungarian priest replied: "You, Father, are still a greenhorn, and
don't understand matters. Leave it
with us because we have been in America longer and understand these
matters." In reply to this Father Konstankevich pointed to the window: "Do you see that telegraph pole? It has been in America longer
than you, but what does it know?
You speak to me as you would to a fool, that in America one needs to
learn the ways, but I came to America fully educated--" This did not persuade
the directors of "Soiedyneniie", and their stubborn behavior persuaded the
Galicians of the hopelessness of remaining in the organization. And so the idea of organizing our own
Association came about, and Father Kontankevich and Father Hrushka called the
first meeting of this new organization in Shamokin. The brotherhood of St. Cyril and
Methodius withdrew from "Soiedyneniie" and called for the other organization to
withdraw and throw its support to "Ruthenian National Association". I was elected President, Father
Konstankevich Secretary and Glova was Treasurer. We had 150 members
immediately. A death benefit of
$400.00 was established. We started managing our own society affairs, but the
Hungarians started organizing against us. In the first place they sued the
Brotherhood of St. Cyril and Methodius for non-payment of 3 month's dues. We lost this court case and Father
Konstankevich and I personally paid the dues and the court costs. We started
organizing new members. We wrote to
people in all the settlements, organized meetings in different localities, and
we would speak with them about their need for a self-help insurance
organization. We had varied experiences.
Once we came to a picnic in Jersey City. Some welcomed us, but others were
going to beat us. "Ahhh, radicals!"
"You don't believe in God!" "You
came to turn us away from the church!" Similar happenings in other towns
occurred wherever we went to speak.
And we always paid our expenses personally. Even in Shamokin where the
President, Secretary, and Treasurer were based, things did not progress as one
would have expected. But a misfortune occurred here which showed our people the
value of this organization. An
accident in the mine took the life of Sharshon, a countryman well known to all,
a member of the Fraternal Society of St. Cyril and Methodius. Our Association immediately took charge
of the funeral. The entire
membership did not go to work, but went to the funeral instead. We wore our Association crests, and
marched to the funeral in ranks. We
carried banners. We went to the
railroad station with the body and went with it to Shenandoah for burial. At the
next meeting the entire membership appeared as one. And everyone brought his premium and
dues. From the feeling at the
meeting it was clear that there was a new spirit in the Association. The people understood that not only did
they need the organization but that our organization would indeed do for them
precisely as was promised. Our
people understood that we were capable of managing our affairs. We believed that with our own managerial
skills we could build our self-help organization and manage it
successfully.
I had the honor of being President of the Association
for one term. At the second
convention I turned over the presidency to I. Glova. The presidency had cost me
much effort and money. But I don't
begrudge these at all. When I see
what a power-house grew from such small beginnings, I am moved with pride that
to the growth of that power-house, I had contributed my modest
bit.
Theodosiy Talpash
|
