Washington Roebling

WASHINGTON AUGUSTUS ROEBLING, 1837- 1926

Helene Chesnais

May 24th,  1849

The original Roebling Wire Shop in Saxonburg, Pennsylvania

My father, John Roebling was a wise man. In 1832, he had led a group of German immigrants to America and they settled in the small village of Saxonburg in the great state of Pennsylvania. Sometimes, I considered myself lucky to be his son. He would stand tall and proud next to my mother, Johanna Roebling. Their love resulted in many children: Ferdinand, Josephine, Elvira, Laura, Charles, Edmund, William and me, the oldest. My relations with most of my brothers and sisters were not very close. I was only close to my younger brother Ferdinand. During my childhood in Saxonburg, I had to take care of him, and we did everything together.  Our days were punctuated by dances and parties in our little German community. As my father was the village elder, I received special treatment from most of the villagers. That is where I spent the first twelve years of my life. I remember those days with vivid memories of a joyful life. I was tutored by a man named Julius Riedel. With his help, I perfected my German and English speaking skills, and opened my small mind to math, science, and so many other things that have helped me today. I also spent some of my time helping my father run his wire shop. My father wasn’t a very good farmer, and the weather in Pennsylvania had never been ideal for farming. As a result of this, he opened a wire shop close to our home. As a child, I was always fascinated by the wires, pulleys, ropes…

 

Helene Chesnais

 September 5th 1851

Pre-stressing Machine

Until the age of twelve, I lived peacefully in my little home of Saxonburg, Pennsylvania. But slowly, my father’s business started growing and prospering. As a child, I could not understand the financial and economic issues involved, but I did understand one thing: I had to leave Saxonburg to go to Trenton, in New Jersey. My father had chosen this location to further enlarge his business, the Roebling Family Wire Shop, because it was close to wire suppliers, and it was also closer to transportation facilities. That way, the products could be shipped out to customers easily, and it was much easier from New Jersey than from Pennsylvania. For twelve years, I grew up with the shop, and I helped keep it in shape. Sometimes, my father went away to go to bridge construction sites, and I had to take full responsibility of the wire shop. I also had to work on my studies: I went to school at the Trenton Academy. I was an honor student, and I was one of the few members of the Classical Department.

In the shop, there were many things I loved. My favorite part of all the equipment was the huge pre-stressing machine. It had huge pistons and gauges that used to fascinate me when I was a child. My dad had explained to me that that particular machine would put tension in the wires, and make them stronger and more efficient for the real bridges. The pulleys and wire rope sockets were all around the shop, and the wire was dangling on the wall from everywhere. I guess that even though I didn’t know it back then, the days I spent looking at all this equipment made me develop a passion for suspension bridges like my father’s. I was destined to follow in his footsteps. The shop I grew up in taught me everything I needed to know about the art of bridge building, and it guided me towards the career I am in now: engineering.

Victor Chaix

June 23rd, 1858

As I was blooming into a young adult, I pursued my engineering education by going to the Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute in New York. It had been my father’s dream for me to continue in his tracks, and my going to the best engineering high school at that time was like a dream come true. I spent two years working hard to learn the art of architecture, math, physics and engineering. During my days at the Institute, I also managed to help my father run the wire shop in Trenton.

The Pittsburgh-Allegheny Bridge 1846   

I graduated from the institute in 1857, and then I returned home to my family. At that time, I loved collecting rocks and minerals that I would keep in my room. My favorite was the agate, a very mysterious rock, I loved collecting rocks; it fascinated me. All those colors, these minerals: a complex science.  It was a distraction I wished to pursue to the side of my engineering career. In 1858, I helped my father complete my first bridge, The Allegheny Bridge. This bridge is located in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. It was the first time that I was responsible for working on a project on my own, a mission from my father.  After that, President Lincoln had a speech in Washington about the roaring Civil War. I listened with a lot of interest. He talked about the United States; its need for more of people in the military... These were certainly the best years of my life.

Agate Stones

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Javier Echevarria
December 23rd 1864

Emily Warren, oil on canvas by Carolus Duran

Finally! I am an adult; a grown up man with a good education behind me. I would even say more than that: I’m an adult with an objective. This year, 1862, after listening to President Lincoln’s speech, I am an inspired man with goals such as the protection of my beautiful country and the development of its infrastructure. I now serve General G. K. Warren in the engineering department as an engineer officer. The General is a wonderful man. He assigned me to the supervision of the suspension bridges over the Rappahannock and Shenandoah Rivers at Harper's Ferry, and thanks to him, I can finally challenge myself using all my acknowledge acquired during so many years. We are now in the middle of the Civil War. Following my objective of serving my country, I join the New Jersey Militia. I am deceived very fast since I am seeking more than garrison duty. I resign after two months and re-enlist in a New York artillery battery. Also, I’ve noticed this gorgeous woman called Emily Warren, the General’s younger sister.

Battle of the Bull Run

Right from the beginning we’ve been exchanging tender looks. As a matter of fact, while I fight in battles such as the Bull Run and Antietam, my mind is mainly turned towards her. In my head she is the image of all of what I’m fighting for. She represents my beloved country, the innocent children, and the scared women.

I’ve been sharing my bunk with several soldiers. Even though they sometimes make fun of my obsession for bridges, they are generally very friendly and nice with me. In 1863, I was the first to spy Robert E. Lee’s army heading toward Gettysburg. I also helped in the Union victory. I keep fighting and after two years of service, in December 1864, I am promotted to lieutenant colonel for gallant service. Nevertheless, I’m starting to get tired of fighting and I  share with my superiors my desire of leaving the military and starting a professional career as an engineer, following my father’s footsteps. My plan is to leave the military with a newly married wife, my beautiful Emily Warren, and acquire more of my father’s knowledge on bridge construction.

Victor Chaix
January 20th 1965

            I have just left the army, and I am now married to Emily Warren, my beautiful and lovely wife. OUr I have returned to work in my family wire manufacturing and bridge business, John A. Roebling Sons Co. With my father, we are working to complete the Cincinnati and Convicton Bridges. We are working all day long, but I really love what I’m doing. I also have to announce you great news... I am going to be a dad! In my travel to Europe, seeking for knowledge in bridges and caisson foundations, my wife has come along to support me.

            ________________________________________________________________________
November  25th  1867



Portrait of  Emily Warren

He’s born! He’s a healthy fellow just like his mother. Some people say he has the same eyes than me and my father. We named him John A. Roebling to honor my beloved father. I’m so proud of my family! After a long trip by sea that took several months, I’m finally home. My father has been appointed to the Brooklyn Bridge project, which will certainly be his last because he is not feeling well at all and he is getting old. However, he’s still very excited for the project. For now on, I am his assistant engineer. In my trip to Europe, I learned many things that I now teach to my father. He is inspired by these bridges, so we start making the construction blueprints together. I know that he doesn’t feel well so I am benefiting from my situation as his assistant to learn everything I can about his experience in bridge building. I really love my father. As I am writing, my wife is at home with my son, filling him with love.

Washington Roebling's notebook with the sketch
 for the construction of the Brooklyn Bridge, 1868

Helene Chesnais

 1869-1871

As the construction of the bridge began to take shape, my father suffered a severe accident.. On the 28^th of June, as he was standing on a set of wood pilings to study the bridge construction, a boat crashed violently into the pilings, crushing his right foot, and severely damaging several of his toes. As he screamed in pain, I rushed over to my father in a hurry, and he was evacuated from the site. My worries had been relieved by the doctor’s report: the injury itself was not life threatening. Sadly, the accident had caused a sort of tetanus and an infection. His sickness caused him to pass out sometimes, and he was very tired. His end was coming soon, and my sadness was at its peak. The tears filled my heart, and it would explode if my father was to die. His state was worsening every day, as was my pain. To see my father suffer tortured me. My father, my role model, was soon to leave this world and leave me alone, in charge of the Brooklyn Bridge Construction. On July 28^th, my father passed away, asleep in a deep coma. His body stopped working, and my mind stopped thinking. I buried my sadness and pain in my work, as the burden of the construction was weighing on my shoulders. 

I made several changes to the construction designs. For example, I added caissons that lay on the bottom of the river bed. They are the foundations of the two towers. They exist in a sort of air pressurized chamber; in which the workers set the bridge foundations. I worked in them myself. The construction continued on a good pace, and advanced with rich progress. The death of my father seemed far away, yet still close to my heart.

                  Work in the caissons

Javier Echevarria

July 7th 1882

           I’m so sick I can no longer work. It is now 1879, the construction of the Brooklyn Bridge is at full speed, and yet I can’t work. I’m stuck here at home, looking at my project from my window. I now live in a town house, 110 Columbia Heights. I haven’t kept young and fit. I can’t hear out of the left ear. However, sixty years I’ve known it and it’s all in my head. By “it” I mean the project and the science behind it. While I was working in the construction of the bridge foundations, I was stricken with caisson disease. I got it while I was fighting a fire in the caissons of the bridge with my men, and I felt in the river. The cause of the disease was the rapid change in atmospheric pressure, causing nitrogen bubbles to form in the blood. Now, I’m supposed to direct the work from my sickroom window using field glasses! Thank God my wife is with me. To keep my name in the forefront of this tremendously important engineering feat, Emily is, though unofficially, Chief Engineer of the Brooklyn Bridge. She has been helping me by collecting all the news about the bridge since the beginning. I’m the most unfortunate man on Earth because after several months of work, American Society of Civil Engineers has convened a board of inquiry to determine if I should be removed as Chief Engineer because I was unable to direct the construction properly. Once again, God bless Emily! She has saved my career by convincing them that the Roeblings should remain in charge since they, as a family, had the idea and made the construction possible. She is the best wife I could have ever dreamed of. Not only is she beautiful and sweet but she also supports my whole family. My little boy named John is growing into a real gentleman and I’m so proud of him. My family and my bridge, that’s all I have left.
  

Brooklyn Bridge under construction 1877

Javier Echevarria

February 16th, 1883

                As I get older and older, I spend more time in my bed, thinking about my past. The more I think about it, the more I understand how lucky and successful I’ve been for my whole life. When my father started the Brooklyn Bridge, experts throughout the world thought that this was an impossible feat and told him to forget the idea. Now, mainly because of his genius and my determination, the bridge is almost finished and some people have called it the Eighth Wonder of the World. Also, some say that nowhere in the history of great undertakings is there anything comparable. This bridge, THE Bridge, is like my second son I never had. I’m very upset to have to stay in my room for most of my time.

Portrait of washington Roebling
By Théobald Chartran 

According to my wife and my son, Manhattan is beautiful! My son often plays with his friends at the pier and my wife told me she overheard them talking about my bridge. I’m so proud! Also, they tell me Battery Park is becoming beautiful with its growing number of plants. When my son comes back from school and tells me about the people, the fashion, the skyscrapers, the shows… I am always astonished. I am aware that poverty is present in the city and that I am lucky of being financed to be financed by so many investors. The same investors who, fifteen years ago, discouraged my father and his ideas and described the bridge as an impossible feat! Ha, ha, look at them now! Looking for my favors and my respect! Nevertheless, neither my wealth nor my success will be able to save me from my caisson disease. 

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Victor Chaix
May 24th, 1883

May 24 of 1883, The Brooklyn Bridge has been inaugurated. As I am now very sick, I couldn’t go, but according to my wife, thousands of people attended it. There was the president, the mayor Franklin Edson, and many other important people. I’m so proud of my project! The mayor even took the time to go to my house and shake hands with me!


March 17th, 1903

I can’t stand it anymore. Walking around and doing nothing with my day, I have to stop. It’s been a couple of weeks since my wife’s been buried, on February 23rd, and since then, I don’t do anything. I sleep, cry sometimes, eat and sleep again. Now is the time when I have to wake up and return to my work on the Brooklyn Bridge.

       
             It’s been a couple of years since I’ve not written in my journal .In 1908, and I’m in love again. It’s a young woman from Charleston and it’s been two years that we’ve been together. She’s called Cornelia Witsell. I will soon ask her for marriage! I’ve already prepared something: I will take her to her favorite restaurant and then ask for her hand in marriage at the end of the dinner with a beautiful ring that I bought very expensive at a friend’s store. I expect she’s going to say yes. Halas, my days are numbered. Even if Cornelia is taking care of me, I see my death coming. This is the Last time that I am writing in my journal as I can’t move my hand to write. So this is a goodbye, to you, my son. I really love you, don’t ever forget me.

Inauguration of the Brooklyn Bridge, May 24 1883,
about 150,000 people crossed the bridge

Photograph taken at the Brooklyn Bridge Inauguration: Boats on the River

Cornelia and Washington's grave, South Carolina, USA

Annie Moore

 Annie Moore

Day 1 August 18, 1887

Annie Moore with
her brothers

      My beautiful country of Ireland was once a prosperous land, but in the nineteenth century, a series of events impoverished millions of people due to its crumbling economy.  With an overly large population due to refugees from the Napoleonic Wars, the Irish soon became extremely poor. Then, the great potato rot eliminated our sole subsistence of millions of peasants, thrusting them over the edge of famine.  The Potato Famine was a period of mass starvation, disease and  emigration between 1845 and 1852, caused by a potato disease and many other political, economic, and military factors were involved. “For years, the crops remained undependable, and famine swept through the land. Untold hundreds of thousands perished, and the survivors, destitute of hope, wished only to get away. -Handlin”. For a long period of time, destitution was a significant problem in Ireland. The only solution that seemed possible was escape, or emigration. Starving and struggling families like mine could only find hope of a better future by leaving their country. To make matters worse, Ireland was under 

Impoverished Irish family 

British rule, still used a non-secular system and was under a landlord system. Emigrating Ireland in the nineteenth century was easy because we could take a convenient and affordable trip to Canada, where we could buy very cheap fares to the U.S., or cheaper yet, we could walk across the border. America was a land that attracted a huge amount of Irish immigrants because it had a vast and promising land. A new land meant hope for a new life, a new beginning, and new opportunities. Rumors were told that the jobs in America were limitless, unemployment there was impossible. The expanding economy was very tempting for unemployed Irish people.  America was a utopia portrayed land, so of course Irish immigrants swarmed in. Families like mine were very smart to have taken advantage of the great possibilities America offered.

 Day 2 October 21, 1889

     Life in Cork, Ireland was quite repetitive and sad. I was born in the dawn of the Industrial Revolution. My whole life, everything was changing, from railways being invented to changes in government. My parents barely benefited from this, for they lacked the key to success in this new modernized Ireland: education. My family was not among the elite class, my father worked as  a brick maker and my mother, a waitress. My older brother and sister also had to work. 

County Cork Square

     My parents and older siblings would arrive home from work quite late, so I, as the oldest in the house, had to take on many of my parents’ responsibilities and take care of my younger brothers. It was as if I was barely a teenager, and I was being thrown into adulthood. We lived in a rather small house, and my little brothers and I, Philip and Anthony, shared a single room at the top floor of the house, the attic. Even though housing in general was improved in the 1880s, our house still had very poor structure and roofing.

     Every time there were rain showers at night, we would be wet and with very poor sleep. This caused my family to be frequently ill and unproductive. It felt like Ireland was, with industrialization, becoming more and more conservative, and so did my upbringing. Our schooling was becoming more religious and old Irish traditions were reinforced. Soon my parents and older siblings came to the conclusion that industrial

Nineteenth century Irish school

 Ireland did not benefit our working family at all, and decided to migrate to New York, the city where dreams came true, and my younger brothers and I would rejoin them four years later, in 1892. I was only eleven years old when I became completely responsible for myself, and my two younger brothers. We all were forced to become independent, especially me. I would wake up first, do the house chores, come home from school last, do my small amount of schoolwork, and finish my chores. These were four extremely hard years for me. The only thing that kept me from giving up on everything was the hope of being in heavenly America. Our parents would send home money so we could survive. Finally, they sent enough money to buy three tickets to Ellis Island, New York.  When in New York, Phillip and Anthony continued their education, but I was fifteen and had to support my family so I began to work as a hairdresser. This is when I met Daniel O’Connell, he was an Irish descendant who lived in Texas and was visiting the Lower East Side of Manhattan, where we lived. He begged me to run away to Texas with him, but my family always came first, and I could not abandon them. So he decided to move to New York where we became husband and wife, and we worked very hard to make enough money to support my family and save enough money to live in Texas, where I died in a car accident in 1919.

Day 3 November 7, 1890

Nineteenth century school in Manhattan

     Traditionally, in a lower class family like my own, we would have never attended school in Ireland. Luckily, my parents believed that education was the key to success, and with at least a primary and secondary education, we would be well off. I was also fortunate that I was born after the time when local churches administered schools, although the government provided some support. According to the Irish constitution, it is the responsibility of the government to guarantee education for all children and provide for national guidelines. This was not always the case, especially for a family like my own. A bit before my mother was in labor with me, local primary schools were added to each town. Since they were new, 

County Cork

they did not have the highest quality education and conditions, but I was still extremely grateful that I could learn to read and write. Without the primary school that I attended, I never would have been able to compose this memoir. The main subjects taught in my primary school were English, Irish, mathematics, social and environmental studies, arts and crafts, music, physical education and religious instruction. I learned and was fascinated in learning; I was extremely curious and would’ve stayed in school until I grew old if I could.

     When I was reunited with my parents in New York, my parents decided to rent a slightly larger apartment so we would have enough space for my whole family. It had two bedrooms and a very small kitchen. I went to my first day of school there, it was extremely frightening.      Everything moved much faster and there were more than thirty children in my grade, which I was not used to. My parents pulled me out of school during lunch. They told me there was not enough money for the rent now that we were in possession of a larger apartment. They needed me to work as soon as possible or else we would have been thrown out on the streets. This was when my luck ran out: My education was over. I was always giving my family their haircuts, so a hairdresser was the 

supposedly perfect career path for me. I quite enjoyed working as a hairdresser, and there were even a few other Irish immigrants who worked along with me, and we all became the best of friends. I would still watch all the high school girls in their uniforms walk by every morning and evening and yearn for their lives. I wanted a carefree life with possibilities of a bright future. My future felt bleak and like a never ending-hole of nothingness. I feared growing old and die at the hairdresser’s. Then, Daniel O’Connell came into my life and with him a lamp that showed me that there my future could dazzle if I wanted it too.

Day 4 December 20th, 1891, 4 A.M.

      The sun was barely up, and already everyone was wide-awake at the busy waterfront. Children cried, men carried lamps, and women packed the little clothing they had in the only chest they carried. It weighed more than fifty pounds, and represented all of the family’s belongings. I was feeding my younger brothers, Anthony and Phillip with some sugared barley. We were in a cramped waiting line to the customs office in the small

Waterfront

fishing village of Queenstown, in County Cork. We were off. A bag full of ragged clothes and a couple of pence were our only belongings, when the man finally called our name, we came to the booth.   I stepped up to the clerk, a cold man in his fifties who had a heart of stone when to formalities. He asked me questions: my name, my residence, and finally, the dreaded question: my age.  My birthday was only a week away, and I was only one year under the right to be responsible for my underage brothers. So I had to lie. For a moment, I thought the clerk would not let us pass, but he smiled and opened the gate.

We were free! Thank God. It was so powering, so glorious, and so saintly to feel absolutely free. We walked along the jetty, discovering slowly the monstrous beast that was going to take us to the land of freedom and opportunity, New York, United States. I heard wondrous tales about men and women who accomplish their wildest dreams overnight in that country.  The ship was unfortunately not as wondrous as the dreams we had. It was huge, and stains covered the iron hull that looked fragile.  The great steam engine spluttered thick black smoke as the captain started the engines and shouted.

“All aboard!”

We were on our way.

                                                Day 5   December 24^th 1891 10:21

Illustration of the life on board

It was Christmas Eve and it was now almost four days that we were on the S.S. Nevada, the ship going to New York from Queenstown, our hometown. We spent some horrible time on this ship. Rats infested the boat, and the food was terrible, but was already more than an average meal back in Cork. The turkey they served for Christmas dinner was at least a year old and tasted like pigeon. The only source of heat on the ship was the huge twin steam engines, but they were full of coal stains and if you stayed too long, you would end up covered in jet black stains all over your body.  The life aboard was hard, and to survive you had to think fast every minute to stay alive at sea. Between the deafening storms in the middle of the ocean that menaced at every wave to wipe out all the passengers, the sea sick and the different diseases like cholera, scurvy and different fevers.  Phillip, my seven-year-old brother, showed symptoms for scurvy, and had to eat lemons for every meal.  We spent most of our time on deck so then we wouldn’t be too seasick. The fresh air helped to remember that at the end of the long and adventurous journey awaited America, the land of prosperity and freedom.

            

  

Day 6 January 1st 1892 6:00 am

SS. Nevada

            We were already awake for a couple of hours.  Phillip woke up in the cabin at two o’clock in the morning, and since had to stay on deck to not become sicker in the putrid, stale air in the cramped cabins. We were the only ones out on deck at this time.  There was a humid fog all around us and we couldn’t see much further than the ship’s bow.  The captain said that we were supposed to arrive in the afternoon, but he also said he was not sure because he was not able to find our location in this weather.  We were desperate to arrive, because the morale on board was at its lowest. People began to doubt that a land as miraculous as the stories of travelers even existed. At seven o’clock in the morning, we decided to go back to the cabins to catch some sleep. As I started to walk away, I heard a bell ring. I swiveled around, and saw lights in the distance. I called my brothers, and rushed forward to the bow’s railing. As the ship moved on, we started to see parcels of land on the right and left. As the boat entered the harbor slowly, black waves erupting from the hull, a huge structure appeared in front of us. We were simply amazed by the size of this lighthouse, when we realized that it was actually a statue of a tall, copper lady holding a torch up high in one hand and a book in the other. As we discovered the statue, the sun behind it unraveled, blinding us with the bright light, the light of newfound liberty. As we descended from the deck first, a smiling round man greeted us warmly and announced to us that we would be the first to pass through their new facility of Ellis Island, and gave us a ten dollar golden coin. 

Day 7 November 4th, 1901   

When I was still a child, my parents left me. I was only eleven years old. From then on, I had to live on my own and take care of my siblings, Phillip and Anthony. I had taken on an incredible amount of responsibility and sustained a huge weight of pressure. That day, we were with our beloved parents, and then a few hours later, our family bond was shattered. 

Arrival at Ellis Island

It felt as if my infant ages diminished and I was reincarnated into a new being, more mature, and more responsible.  It seemed impossible at the beginning, but I adapted to my new lifestyle afterword. My siblings thought it was all joke and didn’t really believe we actually had to wait four years till we could be reunited our family. Every day and every night I suffered, but I just had to keep going and stay optimistic. I kept fighting and telling myself: “There’s just a few months left”. I made it through the day every time; nevertheless I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to get away from this poor lifestyle. I took the opportunity to go to join the rest of our family in America when we were sent enough money to purchase boat tickets to New York.

Day 8 January 9^th 1905

Annie Moore with her brothers at customs

     I was very young when I realized that I was a very gifted child. My mother kept on telling me that I was the most responsible and disciplined girl she had ever seen. Even though my parents left me when I was only eleven years old, I was able to go to school and take care of my siblings, despite my young age. Day by day, I learned to adapt to my new lifestyle. I always had to keep my brothers, Phillip and Anthony, happy and laughing. Then i arrived on Ellis Island. Most do not understand what it was like for a girl who barely ever left the safety of her town to arrive in such a huge and new country. Stepping into the room where they took my name, information, and gave me my ten dollar coin reward for being the first immigrant to arrive on Ellis Island took all my courage. They later inspected me for diseases and problems that could be presented as dangerous to the American people. I was cleared, and arrived in New York City. I had never been so afraid, and am very proud that I did not show an ounce of fear of this intimidating country.  I even sacrificed my education to support my family and became a hairdresser to earn some money to live on. It seemed impossible to sustain a family when I was still just a little girl, at only fifteen years of age. Every day, I was looking forward to the opening of the immigrant boat station to see my mother for the first time in four years. That helped me because I learned how to be a more responsible woman. In addition to that, it prepared me for my future life, when I had to sacrifice my education for my family. I hoped my little brothers could get a good education, unlike me.

Day 9 March 12, 1906

Throughout my life, I have always been an optimistic person. My parents had to leave to New York in search of a new life, leaving my brothers and I all alone in Ireland. It was hard even though they did send some cash for means of survival and to pay for the journey to America. This influenced my later life to become a better person and the woman that I am today.  Everything required me to have a lot of responsibility, which later on affected me in various ways. Everything I had to go through later on became easy for me to sustain because it was nothing compared to my struggle in Ireland. In addition to that, I was famous for quite a while, so I was able to get a job very easily.

Annie Moore and her Daughter

My talent for hairdressing was undeniable, and it brought me quite a bit of recognition and I thus became known as the famous ellis Island girl who gives legendary haircuts. After all, that hard work wasn’t for nothing. However, I didn’t have any chance to pick my own path, so I guess everything that happened to me was just bad luck, but they all brought a variety of rewards. Honor was one of them, and not only did others influence me, I influenced others as well. Even after my death, people continued to look up to me. People all over New York looked up to me. Struggling families with young children at work were inspired by my bravery, and for me, this is the best possible gift I could offer. I was the strong hearted girl who lead her family to happiness, I was the new face of Ellis Island.

Day 10 April 24, 2009

            I am now over 135 years old, so I am in the sky watching over from the clouds, listening and overhearing everything that has been said about that and me is still being said about me. Many years ago, when I was still alive, many things had been said about me; some were good things and others weren’t always so good and not always very friendly. However I was among the first people who had arrived to America. The steamship that my brothers and I had journeyed on was the S.S Nevada. I was given a few awards, and awards were given to people in my honor as well. I was honored both before and after my death, meaning that since I had been the first one that was off the steam ship, it so happened that I had become the first one to arrive on the, then, newly built Ellis Island. In my honor, for having been the first immigrant to arrive on Ellis Island, the “Annie Moore Award” is given “to an individual who has made significant contribution to the Irish and/or Irish American community and legacy",

List of immigrants

another award has also been given in my honor, which is given by and from the Irish American Cultural Institute. I am very glad to have been able to have this wonderful experience, back when I was young, and to be able to share this amazing adventure with my younger brothers, Anthony and Phillip Moore, who have passed away. After my death, nothing had been found of me in Ireland, when I was living there over many years back. As if barely anyone had ever cared or known that I existed. Over the years, I heard people say I was an Irish-American hero. I am so glad that the stories of my great mount of responsibility, leadership, sacrifice, and courage are still told in many countries. Articles about me are still found now in the Ellis Island Immigration Museum, situated on Ellis Island, about my great adventure, to America, as the first immigrant to set foot on America.

Day 11 September 17, 2009

Annie Moore's statue at Ellis Island

Over more than fifty years after my rather honorable death, I am still commemorated by two lovely statues. They still stand until this day, all in my honor, for having been the first immigrant to arrive/ set foot on Ellis Island, America. One of these two statues of me is presented on Ellis Island. This first is a statue of me with my two younger brothers, whom are Anthony and Phillip. It is now displayed in the Ellis Island Immigration Museum. The second statue, which is also still in my honor, and visited by many, stands in the wonderful country, of Ireland, in Cork. It stands in the port where I had waited for a few hours, before I had been able to board the ship. These statues are made of bronze, the statues represent me waiting, carrying my luggage, and standing still. I am very glad that people still appreciate one of my greatest accomplishments of life, and I am truly glad that I hadn’t missed this truly amazing and daring adventure, especially since it was with my two younger brothers. I am also very grateful that I did not have to stay in my birth country, Ireland, for most of my life, and instead I got to witness living in another country, one that I had only to still discover. This sculpture is the work of Jeanne Rynhart of Bantry. These statues had been unveiled in 1993, by the Irish President Mary Robinson.

Day 12 December 6, 2009

Statue of Annie Moore

When I realized that I would go to America with my two brothers, I immediately knew that I had to sacrifice many things. Everything I had worked for and achieved would disappear. I knew I would have to sacrifice a lot of time as well to ensure a safe journey to America. I had to give up everything that I had, all just to take care of my family, especially my younger siblings, whom I had to travel with. I knew that I was mostly responsible for my family’s well being, and worked very hard. I would have to soon get married, so I did. I know that if I hadn’t sacrificed everything, I wouldn’t have had this amazing adventure and left hope for other immigrants around the world. I am Annie Moore, born on April 24^th 1874, the first Immigrant to arrive on Ellis Island, and having achieved, sacrificed, lived and succeeded, and died on December 6^th 1919. 

Annie Moore's grave, located in the Calvary Cemetery, in Queens, New York.