Essays on Immigration by Bob Blaisdell

Author:Bob Blaisdell
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Dover Publications
Published: 2013-02-23T04:30:00+00:00

During the days that followed I tried to familiarize myself with the city. Almost overpowered by its magnificence, I walked up Fifth Avenue, and feasted my eyes on its display of riches and prosperity. Here were gold and luxury, and just now I desired wealth above everything. I smiled; the seeming endlessness of the streets, the crowds, the splendor of its fashionable sections, made me realize my own insignificance.

Sometimes I felt discouraged, for what was I—a stranger—to do in this city, where no one was interested in me and my plans? On the other hand, I had two hands which, though empty, were willing, and the will which directed me to “ride on over all obstacles and win the race.” I scanned the “want advertisements” in the daily papers. To obtain a position was not so easy as I had imagined. My experience in foreign countries, and even my letters of recommendation from well known fashionable establishments, did not help me in the least.

The shops preferred a milliner familiar with New York trade, and one who had worked in the city. Wherever I applied, this information was given, so that I became tired and lost courage. And yet these words “Go ahead” spurred me on. I heard them everywhere. Sometimes they came from a driver; sometimes from an elevator boy, and sometimes from a child. I was told it was slang, but the sentence clung to my memory as words that an American would repeat if he wished to reach his goal; and so they urged me, no matter how weary, to go ahead, making another and another attempt—but with the same result—until at last I entered a store where I asked for an opportunity to show my skill. I said I was willing to work for a small salary. Perhaps pity had something to do with the result, for my proposition was accepted. My face wore rather a dejected look, but, at all events, I was given a chance and directed to work one week “on trial.”

The next morning I entered the shop with a heavy heart, for I felt that with six dollars a week, the prospect of becoming wealthy was far off indeed. I determined to do my best, even though the salary was the lowest that had ever been offered me.

The woman in charge was pleased with my efforts, and after the trial week my salary was raised to nine dollars. I soon realized that my work was very satisfactory and worth more than I received. I summoned all my pluck and demanded twenty dollars per week. At first the manager refused. Angry and surprised, she told me in plain words that my demand was so unreasonable that she could not for a moment think of granting it. But, as I happened to know that all the hats I trimmed were “good sellers,” I insisted on the twenty dollars, and declared that unless I received it, I would seek a position elsewhere. When she realized that I was in earnest, she granted my demand, and I was proud of my victory.

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