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Architecture

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When Annie Moore first arrived in New York, the facilities on Ellis Island represented structures better suited for war. Both before and after Samuel Ellis, a colonial merchant, acquired the island in 1785, it had represented many things for many people. The island's oyster flats were once a major food source for the Lenape people until Dutch settlers arrived, and some time later, a group of pirates faced execution on its wind-swept shores. Later leased and fortified by New York's Federal government in 1808, Ellis Island would house a military installation (Fort Gibson) for an 80-year span, when its 20-gun battery and towering Georgia Pine walls would serve as a frightening deterrent to any would-be invaders.

Yet around the time Annie and thousands of others were landing upon Ellis Island's ports, back in Paris, a partnership was culminating at the Ecole des Beaux-Arts within an academy that served as the pinnacle of architectural education in the 19th century. Edward Lippincott Tilton was a New York City native who left a promising career in banking to pursue a passion, and William Alciphon Boring heralded from the extremely rural town of Carlinville, Illinois. These two men would form a brief, but nevertheless important partnership that forever changed the storied landscape of an island that would become a symbol for a country built by the hands and hearts of those of many nations.

Author Witold Rybczynski , in his book How Architecture Works wrote, 'Great buildings are often the result of a single - and sometimes very simple - idea.' The French called this concept parti, and it was the guiding principle that students practiced for hours at the Ecole des Beaux-Arts. For Tilton and Boring, no concepts better encapsulated their proposed designs for four iconic buildings on Ellis Island.

Like most high-profile and public projects, architects must enter their designs into a 'competition', often judged by a jury of fellow architects and prospective clients. After both men left the firm of McKim, Mead, and White (known for the company's designs of Penn Station and the Brooklyn Museum ), they won this competition to re-structure the island's facilities.

As in other artistic forms, architecture is often a reflection of the cultures, societies, and historical eras in which they emerge. The Renaissance Revivalist (Neo-Renaissance) style chosen by Edward Tilton and William Boring embodied a humanistic approach that highlighted a departure from an aura of superstition and religious mysticism still prevalent in the late 18th and early 19th centuries. Indeed, with the growing influx of immigrants willing to brave the voyage to America in the late 1800s, the existent facilities outlived their purpose and practicality. And while architects must incorporate such needs into a proposed building's formula, its aesthetic design is often an amalgamation of current societal characteristics.

America was on the precipice of a industrial surge. Tilton and Boring's use of Renaissance imagery emphasized a nation charging headlong into a new era. The precision and symmetry of , most notably derived from artists like Leonardo Da Vinci , was combined with the movement and grandeur of the style. This intertwine is seen most distinctively shown at Ellis Island's Main Building. Its cube shape, balanced facade, and prominent, intricately-stacked quoins (corner blocks) exemplifies a symmetry found in the artistry of Da Vinci's famous drawing, the 'Vitruvian Man' .

However, this harmony is infused with ornate window trims and domed towers that create a perpetual and sometimes exaggerated motion characteristic of Baroque art forms. Near the top of each tower, the Parthenon-like arches and the use of smooth stone show elements borrowed from ancient Greco-Roman construction. This cooperative design was tantamount of the Renaissance itself, for it was just as much an artistic movement as it was a display of technological advancement. The buildings at Ellis Island seem to incorporate this same sense of human freedom and progress belonging to a country casting off its colonial specters and entering into the 20th century (when most of four buildings were completed) as a strong and unified nation.

The architecture of Ellis Island is an iconic representation of America's past, yet it still continues to embrace the vastness of cultural identities of the individual by melding to form a unique sense of unity. And though some of the facilities are currently closed to the general public for entry, the vision of Edward Tilton and William Boring remains significant.

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An Architectural History of New York's Ellis Island

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When Annie Moore first arrived in New York, the facilities on Ellis Island represented structures better suited for war. Both before and after Samuel Ellis, a colonial merchant, acquired the island in 1785, it had represented many things for many people.

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Visiting now

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Extra facts

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A new year offers a chance to start over or to make a change, and for 62 years Ellis Island acted as the gateway to a new life filled with hope for more than 12 million immigrants.

Ellis Island's immigration station opened on New Year's Day in 1892, but the island's history stretches even further back.

In commemoration of the 125th anniversary of the Ellis Island immigration station, take a look back at some of the more fascinating facts about this storied piece of New York City.

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A new year offers a chance to start over or to make a change, and for 62 years Ellis Island acted as the gateway to a new life filled with hope for more than 12 million immigrants. Ellis Island's immigration station opened on New Year's Day in 1892, but the island's history stretches even further back.

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Before ellis island

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When most people think about immigration to New York City, they immediately conjure up images of the vaulted halls and huddled masses of Ellis Island. For good reason! Ellis Island was the entry point for millions of immigrants during the busiest years of American immigration, the 1890's and early 20 th century. Many immigrants left Ellis Island and came straight to the Lower East Side to reconnect with their scattered communities and make new lives. However, in the 35 years before Ellis Island was used, Castle Garden, now known as Castle Clinton, was the center for United States immigration.

Located in the battery of Lower Manhattan, just across the bay from Ellis Island, Castle Garden was the nation's first immigrant processing facility. Unfortunately most of Castle Gardens' records were lost in a fire at Ellis Island in 1897, but it is estimated that between eight and twelve million immigrants came through its walls between 1855 and 1890. Some notable immigrants who came through Castle Garden include Harry Houdini, Joseph Pulitzer, Emma Goldman, and 97 Orchard's very own Nathalie Gumpertz.

The difference between the United States' immigration polices during the times of Castle Garden and Ellis Island was great. During the time of Castle Garden immigration, there was essentially an "open door" policy where if an immigrant could pay to make their way to the United States, they could live here. There were no Visas and no passports. Nathalie Gumpertz essentially walked off a boat and into her future. There was little to no government assistance during the mid-19 th century, which made life, especially life in a tenement, very difficult indeed.

The story of Ellis Island immigration is marked by quotas and deportations, while Castle Garden represents a time when immigrating to the United States was a bit of a free-for-all. Of course, nothing was free once an immigrant arrived in Manhattan.

When we think of immigration today, we tend to think of a system run by the government that can be tricky and lengthy, and one that is not supposed to discriminate on the basis of country of origin. How far we have come from the days of simply walking to a new life! Or have we?

- Posted by Lib Tietjen

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When most people think about immigration to New York City, they immediately conjure up images of the vaulted halls and huddled masses of Ellis Island. For good reason! Ellis Island was the entry point for millions of immigrants during the busiest years of American immigration, the 1890's and early 20 th century.

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How many people died on the island

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This Month in History- March - Ellis Island Part of Statue of Liberty National Monument (U.S. National Park Service)

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Bela Lugosi passes inspection at Ellis Island. He had illegally entered the country in New Orleans in December 1920, failing to return to the merchant ship upon which he served as a crew member. Lugosi later surrendered to Immigration Service officials in NY and was brought to Ellis Island.

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Hospital

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A lot of us have visited the beautiful museum at Ellis Island and pondered our collective and family history. Fewer, however, know that there is an abandoned hospital complex on the island, empty since 1954-and crumbling. If you're relatively fit, possess a pair of closed-toe shoes, and are willing to sign a waiver saying you won't sue anyone if some debris falls on your head, you can see it.

A nonprofit called Save Ellis Island, working with the National Park Service to preserve the old buildings, raises funds in part through eerie hard-hat tours of the hospital. I went on a tour in the company of the New York Adventure Club, which gives its participants access to additional areas of the complex.

Twenty-five intrepid explorers gathered at the entrance of the museum and were met by Barbara, a docent for Save Ellis Island. She took us west, past the areas open to the public, and opened a metal gate that we all passed through. "You are now in New Jersey!" she announced. (The island was the subject of a legal battle between the two states. In 1998, a court ruled that only about 17 percent of the island is actually New York ... but, alas for New Jersey, it's the part where the museum is. New Jersey still gets a small portion of the museum's concessions fees.)

Barbara explained that back in the day, the Ellis Island Immigrant Hospital consisted of 22 buildings spread over the southern part of the island. The area on which the hospital was built is manmade, constructed from landfill and concrete excavated during the building of the New York City subway system. During the hospital's heyday, from 1902 until 1930, over 3,500 immigrants died there-half of them children-and 350 babies were born. Barbara noted that being born on Ellis Island was no guarantee of citizenship. Babies were in limbo, at the mercy of individual decision-makers.

The United States' first public-health hospital was advanced for its time: Doctors used fluoroscopy and an autoclave to sterilize mattresses, stressed the importance of healthful food and sunlight, and knew to isolate patients with highly communicable diseases from other patients. Ellis Island was one of the first places in the country to employ a full-time female physician, Dr. Rose Bebb, who could make anxious non-English-speaking women feel more at ease. Sadly, though, Ellis Island also used IQ tests designed (poorly) by eugenicist Henry Goddard, finding an extraordinary number of immigrants to be "feeble-minded."

As you no doubt know, 75 percent of the immigrants who came to America at the turn of the century came through Ellis Island. Very few, however, wound up in the hospital. Steamship companies would have to pay for the return of sick passengers, so screening was careful before emigrants left the shores of their home countries. Still, one person in 10 was marked for additional medical screening. Doctors watched to see if the new arrivals could walk up the ramp from the ship and up the steps to the screening area without becoming winded. They looked for a limp. They looked for evidence of psychiatric disorders. They looked for asymmetrical faces and/or an inability to pass an incomprehensible IQ test as evidence of intellectual deficits. They looked for fungal infections of the skin like ringworm and favus. In the test that was scariest to the new arrivals, they used a buttonhook to turn eyelids inside out and look for trachoma, which in those days led almost invariably to blindness. (Sometimes, though, the busy doctors used their unwashed fingers to conduct eye exams. President Theodore Roosevelt visited in 1906 and recorded his dismay that "the doctors made the examination with dirty hands and no pretense to clean their instruments." Soon, however, handwashing and the sterilization of instruments were the order of the day.) The tests were extremely cursory-usually taking no more than 30 seconds, since each doctor saw hundreds of patients a day. The purpose, though, was to determine who was healthy enough to work. America did not want gadabouts.

Only about 1 percent of the 12 million entrants were deported for medical reasons. (Of course, every immigrant claimed to know someone who was sent back; the threat was a huge source of foreboding and terror.) Somewhere between 2 and 10 percent of new arrivals spent time in the 750-bed hospital, but of those, 90 percent were ultimately allowed to enter the country.

The hospital's own lifespan was short. In 1914, the year the complex was completed, over 10,000 patients from 75 countries were treated; as the United States started to crack down on immigration after WWI, though, demand for its services decreased. The hospital closed in 1930. For several years afterward, the FBI used the buildings as a field office; in the 1940s, military personnel were treated there for shell-shock with electroconvulsive therapy. In 1954, the Coast Guard, which had jurisdiction over the hospital complex, abandoned it entirely and left it to the elements.

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Our group walked past the boarded-up obstetrical building and "psychopathic" ward through grounds littered with chunks of building materials, an old rusting bell, a huge corner of ornate decorative metalwork from a no-longer-extant building, perhaps on Liberty Island. The grass was lush and green, and there were water views all around, but the areas with cement walkways were cracked, with aggressive weeds pushing their way through all the surfaces. Windows were covered in plywood or buckling, their glass panes shattered.

Our first stop inside the hospital proper was the laundry. A huge rusting machine looked like a beached whale in the middle the room, with a slab of sinuously curving, broken ironwork plating haphazardly leaning against it. The walls were an archeological layer cake, with bits of green and black and tan paint peeking through the peeling white. The floor was so covered in dirt it was impossible to see what material it once was. We saw a giant, scary square maw with an iron wheel on the outside-it looked like a place you would burn bodies. It was the autoclave, where beds were disinfected.

We meandered through the main hospital, seeing the spookily quiet wards for infectious-disease patients. Rooms for tuberculosis patients had two sinks: one for washing and one for spitting. Barbara pointed out that you could tell how communicable the most dangerous diseases were by the thickness of the door to each ward and the size of the window embedded in it. When we looked into one mirror in one bathroom in the tuberculosis ward, we saw a perfectly framed view of the Statue of Liberty. Did the person in that room love to see it, or did they grieve?

Dead leaves skittered along floors; pipes dangled from ceilings. Doors, loosed from hinges, leaned against piebald walls. In places, we could see watermarks a third of the way up from the floor. These were left by Superstorm Sandy, which submerged the entire island in 2012 and closed the museum for a year. Save Ellis Island, which was founded in 1999, began leading small groups through the hospital complex in October 2014.

The staff housing on the upper floors was better preserved and perfectly clean. Rooms were harmoniously simple, featuring brick fireplaces with sweetly carved surrounds and detailed mantelpieces, tidy built-in wardrobes, huge windows with harbor views. Even with the peeling paint and chipped windowsills, they looked like the perfect setting for an Instagram hipster-minimalist wedding.

The contagious-disease hospital consisted of 17 pavilions arrayed around a long, sinister-looking central corridor. Some of the windows are so overgrown with ivy, we couldn't see out. Tree limbs poked inside other windows, their panes cracked and pieced. Everything made of metal-beams, frames, gears-was rusted to a dark red or brown. Wooden floors were disintegrating to reveal subflooring beneath and packed earth beneath that. We saw an operating room with a lonely metal table at its center. And we saw the autopsy area, with stadium seating for visiting doctors and medical students and a floor-to-ceiling, eight-drawer, built-in cadaver-storage area. The most oddly intimate detail was the line of rusted coat hooks all along the back wall. We could imagine young men carefully hanging up their overcoats to sit down and watch a master pathologist at work.

Here and there throughout the hospital complex were giant black-and-white photo illustrations by the French street artist JR. He'd blown up old, faded pictures of immigrants and staff, silhouetted them, and wheat-pasted them onto various walls. We'd turn a corner and be confronted by a young man seeming to peek from a half-hidden spot behind a wall, his broad-brimmed hat echoing the shape of the lampshade hanging from the ceiling in the otherwise empty room. Or we'd see a group of huge-eyed children, their heads wrapped in cloth as part of their favus treatment (their scalps would be covered in tar, which would be allowed to harden and would then be ripped off along with the hair, or later the application of salicylic and other acids would destroy the fungus) peering from broken windows; some faces were missing as green branches poked inside. There was a little boy in a newsboy cap and knee pants carrying a trunk on his shoulder as big as he was; there was a group of hollow-eyed doctors in white staring out at the camera. I found JR's work otherworldly and powerful, a perfect match for the setting. The plan is to let the silhouettes, exposed to wind and cold and damp like the rest of the building, stay up until they start to peel and decompose.

JR said in an interview when the hospital complex opened: "I want to find the story behind each person who left his or her country. I want to know what made them leave everything and everyone behind, even when they knew they'd never be able to come back. It takes so much courage. There were immigrants in Ellis a hundred years ago, there are migrants now, and there will be some in a hundred years, so we have to do what we can to try to relate to each individual story."

Save Ellis Island estimates that it will take $300 million to restore the entire complex. As of this writing, the Save Ellis Island tour is about $60, including a ferry ticket; the same tour with additional rooms, led by a Save Ellis Island guide under the auspices of the NYAC, is around $70 including ferry ticket.

***
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Marjorie Ingall is a columnist for Tablet Magazine, and author of Mamaleh Knows Best: What Jewish Mothers Do to Raise Successful, Creative, Empathetic, Independent Children.

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Inside Ellis Island's Immigrant Hospital - Tablet Magazine

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A lot of us have visited the beautiful museum at Ellis Island and pondered our collective and family history. Fewer, however, know that there is an abandoned hospital complex on the island, empty since 1954-and crumbling. If you're relatively fit, possess a pair of closed-toe shoes, and are willing to sign a waiver saying you ...

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Race

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David Roediger (droedige [at] uiuc.edu) teaches history at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign. His most recent book is Working toward Whiteness: How America's Immigrants Became White: The Strange Journey from Ellis Island to the Suburbs (Perseus Publishing, 2006).

As the twentieth century started, indeed at almost exactly the same moment that W. E. B. Du Bois predicted that the "color line" would be its great divide, Eugene Victor Debs announced that the socialist movement that he led in the United States could and should offer "nothing special" to African Americans. "The class struggle," Debs added, "is colorless." As the century unfolded, the white Marxist left, schooled by struggles for colonial freedom and by the self-activity of people of color in the centers of empire, increasingly saw the wisdom of Du Bois's insight and tried hard to consider how knowledge of the color line could illuminate, energize, and express class struggles. We would increasingly turn to other passages from Debs, including one expressing a historical insight that he could already articulate in the early twentieth century but that his colorblindness kept him from acting upon: "That the white heel is still on the black neck is simply proof that the world is not yet civilized. The history of the Negro in the United States is a history of crime without a parallel."

As the twenty-first century starts, the idea of a colorless struggle for human progress is unfortunately back with a vengeance. Such is of course the case on the right in the United States, where what the legal scholar Neil Gotanda and others have called "colorblind racism" has underpinned attacks on affirmative action and even on the collection of the race-based statistics necessary to show patterns of discrimination. The high-sounding, ostensibly freedom-loving names given to such well-funded campaigns-"civil rights initiatives" to undermine affirmative action and "racial privacy acts" to do in the amassing of basic knowledge regarding the impact of race-have contributed mightily to attempts to recapture the moral high ground by those contending that a society in which white family wealth is about ten times that of black family wealth is nonetheless a colorblind one.

Nor are such instances confined to the United States. With the blood scarcely dry from white Australian riots against Arab beachgoers, that country's neoliberal leader John Howard reacted to press headlines screaming "Race Hate" and "Race War" by loudly proclaiming that he heads a colorblind society. When the French interior minister Nicolas Sarkozy, leader of the ruling party there and leading candidate to replace Jacques Chirac as president, recently suffered criticism on race issues, he quickly planned a trip to Martinique to emphasize how little race allegedly matters in the French colonial world. Sarkozy stood out as especially harsh in his response to the rebellions of Islamic youth in France against police violence. He failed to join the president and prime minister in belatedly distancing themselves from a recently passed law requiring that French textbooks "recognize in particular the positive role of the French presence overseas, notably in North Africa." But an escape to colorblindness still seemed possible.

Yet, Sarkozy was so thoroughly not welcomed by Martinique's great politician, poet, and theorist of liberation, Aimé Césaire, and others that the publicity stunt had to be canceled. Nonetheless, within France the pernicious role of long-established "colorblindness" operates so strongly that Sarkozy can remain a top presidential contender. The legislative left did not originally raise any serious protest against passage of the pro-colonialist textbook legislation, and the nation adheres to the same basic no-counting-by-race policies that racial privacy acts seek to establish in the United States. Ironically, Sarkozy himself has recently called for limited "discrimination positive," (affirmative action), as a carrot operating in tandem with deportations and immigration restriction to quell rebellions in France. But to put any "positive" measures into practice remains a problem. As The Economist recentlyput it, the French minister for equality remains practically alone at the top of the government in advocating finding a way even to "measure the presence of the children of immigration" in political structures, the bureaucracy, and the labor force.

Against Race But Not for Class: Raceless Liberalism & Social Theory

What is distressingly new is the extent to which indictments of antiracism, and even attacks on the use of race as a concept, come now from liberalism and from the left. Electorally, of course, one hallmark of efforts by the Democratic Leadership Council to move the Democratic Party still further to the right has been an attempt to distance the party from concrete appeals to, and identification with, people of color. Thus the constituencies most aware of both race and class inequities are marginalized in the name of appeals for "universal" programs. Meanwhile actually existing universal social programs, such as "welfare-as-we-know-it," have been subjected to withering (and anything but colorblind) bipartisan attacks. The left was capable a decade ago of dissecting such a shell game, most trenchantly in Stephen Steinberg's 1994 New Politics article on the "liberal retreat from race," and in what will presumably be Christopher Hitchens's last serious book, his 1999 dismantling of Clintonism, No One Left to Lie To.

At a time when no real political alternatives are offered by Democratic candidates who confine their tepid appeals for racial justice to the King holiday and to talks in black churches, the intellecutual left also seems to be abandoning race. Thus the brilliance of Paul Gilroy is turned to writing Against Race, and Antonia Darder joins Rodolfo D. Torres in producing the triumphal After Race. Orlando Patterson holds forth under the title "Race Over," while Loïc Wacquant and the late activist/sociologist Pierre Bourdieu brand analysis of race as an axis of inequality in Brazil as a pernicious export from a United States social science establishment that is as "cunning" as it is "imperialist."

These works are much more, and in some ways much less, than a return to Debs's "colorless" ideas. They lack the same focus on, and confidence in, socialist transformation and are often in dialogue less with class struggle than with cultural studies ideas about the importance of "hybridity" and the pitfalls of "essentialism." In the best known cases they do not specifically try to recenter class by removing a fixation on race. When they do make such an attempt at class analysis, as in the work of Adolph Reed Jr., they cannot yet deliver results. On the whole they reflect the ways that increases in immigration, intermarriage, and cross-racial adoptions have destabilized discussions of race-as-usual. Ironically the very success, largely under United Nations and nongovernmental organization auspices, of organizing around race globally has also laid bare the stark differences in national patterns of racialized inequality and the blurred borders between racial, religious, language, and national oppressions.

But while retreats from race are at least understandable in part in view of the difficult and changing political tasks that we face, they are in their most sweeping forms no more an answer when they come from the left than when they come from the right and center. The context in which they emerge, the stature of voices contributing to them, and the ways that they fit into various tempting electoral shortcuts informing left strategies, nonetheless demand that they be taken seriously. To do so requires us to look at the varieties of left critiques of race thinking, with the goal being not so much to show their incompatibility with each other than to identify various changes and threats to which they inadequately respond. The most celebrated advocates of "race is over" and "against race" positions-Gilroy, Patterson, and Bourdieu and Wacquant-do not directly raise the issues of race and class central to this article, but their influence and arguments must be at least briefly discussed if we are to situate and critique the more explicitly class conscious writings of Darder, Torres and Reed.

Gilroy's Against Race begins with an extraordinarily dense and challenging discussion of the connections between the very idea of "race" and what Gilroy terms "raciology," the nexus of murderous practice, policy, and science born out of seeing race. Race, Gilroy holds, is a "relatively recent and absolutely modern invention" and its scientific credentialing cannot be considered apart from its bloody implication in "evil, brutality and terror." In a new world ostensibly beyond white supremacist science, and one in which black bodies are marketed as desirable and even superhuman rather than only as degraded, Gilroy sees both new dangers and the possibility for a "novel and ambitious abolitionist project," this time doing away with race itself. "Renouncing 'race'" becomes not only the key to "bring[ing] political culture back to life" but also the only proper "ethical" response for confronting the wrongs done under the banners of raciology. Acknowledging that for "many racialized populations, 'race' and the hard-won, oppositional identities it supports are not to be lightly or prematurely given up," Gilroy proposes a long campaign designed to show that "action against racial hierarchies can proceed more effectively when it has been purged of any lingering respect for the idea of 'race.'" In the book's early stages, a critique of racist science and a recognition of the need to add up the costs of ignoring gender and class divisions by some black nationalist movements seem to have Gilroy rejecting race but endorsing a more mature antiracism.

But by the book's end, despite asides suggesting that he will not too harshly judge those who hesitate to abandon the politics of antiracist solidarity in favor of a "heterocultural, postanthropological, and cosmopolitan yet-to-come," Gilroy has undercut much of the grounds of antiracism. Declaring the very "mood" of projects attacking white supremacy to be hopelessly passé as we leave Du Bois's "century of the color line behind," he also strongly dissents from any firm connection of racism to power or to white supremacy. Against Race poses the choice in approaches as one between an outmoded concern for "Africa's antiquity" and an appropriate commitment to "our planet's future." Gilroy writes, "To be against racism, against white supremacism, was once to be bonded to the future. This no longer seems to be the case." The monumental but incomplete and fragile achievements of black internationalism, so searchingly explored in their contradictions in Gerald Horne's recent Race War, are reduced to scattered instances of precocious appreciation for the "planetary." The utopian dimensions that Robin D. G. Kelley shows to be essential to struggles against white supremacy and capitalism become for Gilroy moments to be captured by reading history against the grain, and through a lens that can reduce Frantz Fanon to "that prototypical black-European" noteworthy in large measure for his "indiscreetly anti-Marxist spirit."

Like Gilroy, the sometimes-on-the-left Harvard sociologist Orlando Patterson explicitly pronounces Du Bois's remarks on the color line to be well past their sell-by date. "Race Over," was the headline for Patterson's projections in The New Republic in 2000. The article begins from the premise that Du Bois may have been "half-right" regarding the color line in the twentieth century, but Patterson insists that any attempt to continue to apply Du Bois's formulation would be "altogether wrong." For Patterson the problems with twenty-first-century race thinking are less political and ethical than they are simply demographic, a view scarcely different from the endless accounts in the mainstream press predicting that the United States will become a white-minority nation in the not-too-distant future. By 2050, the United States "will have problems aplenty [but] no racial problem whatsoever," Patterson tells his readers. By then, "the social virus of race will have gone the way of smallpox." This retreat from race will allegedly fall into regional patterns, the details of which call the predictions of racelessness somewhat into question. On the West Coast, "cultural and somatic mixing" will produce a population mainly "Eurasian but with a growing Latin element." In the Northeast and Midwest, deindustrialized zones of misery will contain the white, African American, and Latino poor, bound together by "social resentment" and a "lumpen-proletarian hip-hop culture," and isolated from the gated communities of the prosperous. In the Southeast, the "Old Confederacy" race divisions will continue-"race over" does not in fact apply there-but somehow this will make no difference in the national picture.

At almost every turn the raceless predictions coexist for Patterson with appeals to old-style raciology. "Murderous racial gang fights" remain a fact of 2050 life, and new technologies to change race are deployed. But an even more glaring contradiction obtrudes when Patterson adds other set of prognostications in a New York Times article, now distancing himself from the view of demographers that whites will become a minority in the United States in the twenty-first century. Arguing that "nearly half of the Hispanic population is white in every social sense," Patterson forecasts that "the non-Hispanic white population will...possibly even grow as a portion of the population." Patterson may be right that children of marriages between a non-Hispanic white and a Hispanic will identify as (and be identified as) "white," but the jarring contrast between the two articles suggests just how slapdash the race-is-over position remains. Race disappears and whiteness reigns.

Wacquant and Bourdieu's "On the Cunning of Imperialist Reason," published in Theory, Culture and Society in 1999, best shows how appreciation for the ways in which racial oppression differs across national boundaries can fuel an argument for jettisoning, or at least quarantining, the use of race in social theory and political strategy. The article foregrounds with surprising stridency Karl Marx's argument that the ruling ideas of an age are produced by those who dominate. However, the authors put Marx's insight into the service of an attack on the discussions of racial inequality that have recently led to adoption of forms of affirmative action in Brazil. They argue that new attention to race in that country is a result of elite ideas shipped south from the United States. Wacquant and Bourdieu pinpoint the "cultural imperialism" of U.S. scholars as the source of attempts to flatten varied regimes of race and class oppression, flattening they see as producing a misreading both of history and of current political possibilities. Focusing on the case of Brazil, Bourdieu and Wacquant contend that U.S.-inspired, U.S.-funded, and U.S.-produced research works to impose a "rigid black/white social division," offering the rest of the world a "poisonous" export. Such imperialism insinuates itself, in Bourdieu and Wacquant's view, despite the fact that its arguments are "contrary to the image Brazilians have of their own nation." It does so by trading on a perverse and unspecified combination of antiracist rhetoric and neoliberal financing for scholarship.

However, a number of acute responses, especially from the Brazilianists Michael Hanchard and John French, have criticized Bourdieu and Wacquant's contention that race is somehow a peculiarly U.S. concept, one that would have to be exported because it could not be home-grown in Brazil. The critical responses show that in neither the United States nor Brazil is race regularly deployed, as Bourdieu and Wacquant charge, for purposes of accusation rather than analysis, and that what they call the "neutralization of historical context" is a charge that might be turned back on their own reductive understanding of Brazil. Most importantly, the critics show that the scholars accused of spreading "imperialist reason" and rigid caricatures of the Brazilian social system actually continue a long line of argument within Brazil which recognizes that the historical context of displacement of indigenous people, empires, slave-trading, and slavery produced very different, but not incomparable, racial systems in Brazil and in the United States. When Hanchard draws on the work of cultural theorists Robert Stam and Ella Shohat to show that the analysis produced by Wacquant and Bourdieu is not without its own universalistic views of race (and presumed colorblindness), founded in French imperialism, the argument that we need a fuller and more complex discussion of race and empire rather than an end to debate is squarely put on the table.

Does Moving Away from Race Move Us Toward Class?

The very first words in Darder and Torres's After Race attempt to improve on Du Bois's "dictum" regarding the color line: "We echo his statement but with a radical twist. The problem of the twenty-first century is the problem of 'race'-an ideology that has served well to obscure and disguise class interests behind the smokescreens of multiculturalism, diversity, difference, and more recently, whiteness." After Race centrally holds that race is a biological myth at long last invalidated by science, but now dangerously recreated because scholars persist in using the term. Such scholars thereby decisively aid the rise of culturally-based neoracisms and even the recrudescence of biological racism. On this view, the "idea of race" itself, not capitalism, is somehow the "lynchpin of racism."

Like the early sections of Gilroy's Against Race, the work of Darder and Torres holds out the hope that retreating from the invocation of race will actually empower a more effective struggle against racialized hierarchies. Indeed they approve of Barbara Fields's uncharitable contention that "liberal, leftist, or progressive" writers dwell on the "homier and more tractable notion" of race to avoid being "unsettled" by talking about racism. However, as in Gilroy's case, the emphasis on racism is not sustained, and neither race nor racism function as what he calls "categories of analysis"-that is, they cannot be the reasons for people acting as they do, but must themselves be explained.

Insofar as Fields, Darder, Torres, and others contend that inattention to class distorts inquiry into all inequalities in the United States, they are exactly right. However, the strategy of banking on the retreat from race to solve that problem is a highly dubious one. It leads to an extremely embattled tone and to ignoring the most exciting work building on materialist insights. From Cheryl Harris's brilliant studies of whiteness as property, to Eduardo Bonilla-Silva's research on racial systems, to somewhat older South African scholarship on racial capitalism, to Lisa Lowe's important observations on race, universality, and labor at the start of Immigrant Acts, much work seeks to revive the class question by bringing racism and class together more systematically. But you would not know it from After Race.

Indeed at critical junctures, the book is so eager to be against race that it departs dramatically from historical materialism and thus cannot be effective for understanding class. Darder and Torres praise the liberal sociologist William Julius Wilson, for example, for supposedly demonstrating that "the significance of class has increased and is now far more salient than 'race' in determining the life chances of African Americans." This either/or, class-not-race, position leads After Race to ignore the devastating counterarguments that Melvin Oliver, Thomas Shapiro, and others have made to Wilson's work and to subordinate to an endnote their own appreciation of the fact that Wilson's work is about as distant from Marxism as is possible. That endnote promises a different approach, focusing "with specificity [on] the dialectic between the means of production and the process of racialization," but so far Darder and Torres have not produced anything like such an analysis. Indeed After Race emphasizes theological matters, not slavery, settler colonialism, and the primitive accumulation of capital, in accounting for the origins of racialized groups. Such a view is very much consonant with the book's emphasis on plural "racisms"-including the tendency to "inferiorize" whites-and its marginalization of any systematic discussion of white supremacy.

This same inattention to white supremacy makes it almost impossible for After Race to contribute to pressing discussions of how to build Latino-black working-class unity. The book's puzzling title-clearly race was no more "real" in 1670 than in 2004-makes sense in terms of the book's structure, one that culminates in chapters on Asian American and Latino experiences and emphasizes that the "browning of America" will shake old certainties regarding racism. The danger here lies in making the possibility of abandoning race contingent on the fact that the Latino population has exceeded that of African Americans. This would leave us passing out of a period of a relatively unproductive period of political mobilization based on race, during which blacks predominated, and into a promising raceless one in which Latinos do. But there is then no sustained analysis of African Americans, of African American studies, or of the tradition of black Marxism, as would seem to be necessary to calibrate such an argument. Moreover, that African Americans can practice "racism" is a consistent refrain of the study, which persistently lays all manner of mischief at the door of the civil rights and the Black Power movements. The former movement, we learn, emphasized a "liberal, rights-centered political agenda [that] undermined the development of a coherent working class movement in the United States." Here the reflexive move away from seeing racism as having critical explanatory weight lets white supremacist trade unionism off the hook and leads to the missing of the centrality of jobs, union organizing, welfare rights, poor people's campaigns, and point-of-production organizing-of class-to the civil rights and Black Power movements. Missing class, it becomes possible to charge that Black Power narrowly "seiz[ed] the moment in the name of antiracism and 'black autonomy,'" and that it somehow shut off debate over the consequences of using "the language of 'race' to do battle with racism." At its worst this line of argument allows Darder and Torres to loosely link a Black Power movement animated by anticolonialism and anticapitalism to the Nation of Islam's extravagant pronouncements on "white devils."

While Darder and Torres allow that "racism" is still a problem worth addressing, the recent writings of the radical political scientist Adolph Reed Jr. are done even with that. Sounding more like the "colorless" Debs than any major left commentator on race and class in recent memory, he argues, "Exposing racism [is] the political equivalent of an appendix: a useless vestige of an earlier evolutionary moment that's usually innocuous but can flare up and become harmful." Reed's two late-2005 articles, "Class-ifying the Hurricane" and "The Real Divide," are the signature pieces of the left retreat from race. They appear in relatively popular left/liberal venues, The Nation and The Progressive respectively, and represent attempts by a prominent activist in the movement to build a labor party in the United States to speak broadly and frankly. Moreover, Reed's scholarship had offered significant opposition to liberalism's retreat from race during the Clinton era, especially in his collection Without Justice for All.

"Class-ifying the Hurricane" appeared while the horrific impact of Katrina in Reed's former hometown of New Orleans was fresh in readers' minds, just after many had noted the racist reporting that contrasted black "looters" with white survivors shown doing precisely the same foraging. It noted "manifest racial disparities in vulnerability, treatment, and outcome" of the experience of natural disaster. And then it turned on a dime to excoriate the "abstract, moralizing patter about how and whether race matters." Even so, in this first of his two paired essays Reed's retreat from race could be read as simply a strategic one. "For roughly a generation it seemed responsible to expect that defining inequalities in racial terms would provide some remedial response from the federal government," he wrote. "But for some time race's force in national politics has been as a vehicle for reassuring whites that that 'public' equals some combination of 'black,' 'poor,' and 'loser.'" Katrina lay bare both race and class injustices, but in part because of the growing strength of racism, an effective response to it would have to be strictly "class-ified," according to Reed.

"The Real Divide" repeated, expanded, and made more bitter the arguments in The Nation article. Reed did continue to mention, in a labored construction, that he was "not claiming that systemic inequalities in the United States are not significantly racialized." Indeed "any sane or honest person" would have to acknowledge the overwhelming evidence of "racial disparities [that] largely emerge from a history of discrimination and racial injustice." Nonetheless, Reed followed up these generalizations by categorically declaring that "as a political strategy exposing racism is wrongheaded and at best an utter waste of time." The focus on racism is for Reed a dodge designed to make "upper status liberals" feel morally superior as they vote for the deeply compromised Democratic Party and ignore the "real divide" of class. In one of the few bits of the article offering ostensible, if incredibly narrow and misguided, class analysis, exposing racism is said to serve "the material interests of those who would be race relations technicians." As in "Classi-fying the Hurricane" the arguments are partly that racism, being "too imprecise" and too abstract, lacks power as an analytical tool. However, the point Reed develops more is that among whites the very "discussion of race" reinforces "the idea that cutting public spending is justifiably aimed at weaning a lazy black underclass off the dole." The "racism charge," on this view, is easily defeated by Republican appeals to "scurrilous racial stereotypes" and therefore should be jettisoned.

Gilroy's Against Race at least acknowledges that a call for giving up on race-based traditions of struggle asks a lot of social movements rooted in communities of color. In law, for example, exposing racism is often the sole strategy available to protect, after a fashion, the rights of many of the poorest workers in the United States. Reed's view that elite liberalism is the source of movements to expose and combat racism-a view much facilitated by his outspoken dismissal of the reparations movement-forestalls consideration of the dynamics of concrete struggles around race and class, leaving the call for a retreat from race itself as something of an abstraction.

Fortunately there is no reason to decide whether to organize and to analyze around either racism or class oppression, one to the exclusion of the other. The case of New Orleans, which moved Reed to present us with such a choice, offers good examples of why we should reject it. Compare, for example, Reed's thumbs up/thumbs down approach to race and class with the left activist and writer Mike Davis's accounts of post-Katrina New Orleans. Davis raised a series of questions three months into the rebuilding process in New Orleans and perfectly captured the continuing color line and more:

Why is there so much high-level talk about abandoning the Ninth Ward as uninhabitable when no one is proposing to turn equally inundated Lakeview back into a swamp? Is it because Lakeview is a wealthy white community? And/or is it because the 30,000 reliably Democratic Black votes in the Ninth Ward hold the balance of power in Louisiana politics?

To what extent, Davis wondered, did "ethnic cleansing" and rebuilding coincide? Davis's accounts have also been especially acute on the ways in which elites, including the black political elite in New Orleans, have played on, and indeed created, black-Latino tensions during the rebuilding process. How are we to conceptualize these tensions, and to struggle to overcome them, without discussing both race and class, as well as white supremacy?

In recent antiwar demonstrations the most fascinating sign has read: "No Iraqi has ever left me to die on a roof." Its words recall haunting post-Katrina images and also bring to mind the celebrated antiwar dictum attributed to Muhammad Ali: "No Vietnamese ever called me 'nigger.'" The latter line was perhaps the quintessential late twentieth-century example of Du Bois's insight, ignored by U.S.-centered readings of his words in The Souls of Black Folk, regarding how the color line in the United States existed in systems of racialized global inequality. We should allow that the twenty-first-century "No Iraqi" sign's variant of the earlier slogan is considerably more complex and expansive. Poor whites, and indeed the large numbers of Vietnamese resettled in the gulf region and abandoned in Katrina's considerable wake, could conceivably march under the "No Iraqi" sign. In that sense the sign, and the reality of New Orleans, speak powerfully to the most profound insight in Reed's recent work, namely that poor, mostly black, New Orleanians suffer from a plight that is "a more extreme version of the precarious position of millions of Americans today, as more and more lose health care, bankruptcy protection, secure employment, affordable housing, civil liberties, and access to education." To combat such misery will require race and class analysis, as well as antiracist and anticapitalist organization.

As Reed's articles appeared, the New York Times ran an article titled "For Blacks, A Dream in Decline." It revealed that after a 1980s peak in which one black worker in four was a union member, the figure today approaches one is seven. In the last year, African American workers accounted for a whopping 55 percent of the drop in union membership by 304,000 nationally, although they represent just one unionized worker in six. The Times article quoted William Julius Wilson himself as urgently calling on the unions to address the issue. "They haven't done so yet," he lamented. Union leaders, according to the article, "resist viewing what is happening in racial terms." One prominent labor leader quoted on the decline of black membership sounded for all of the world like Eugene V. Debs: "We see it as a class issue rather than a race issue." It is both, and the retreat from race and class will get us closer to addressing neither.

A Note on Sources

The books centrally discussed above are Paul Gilroy, Against Race: Imagining Political Culture Beyond the Color Line (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2000) and Antonia Darder & Rodolfo D. Torres, After Race: Racism after Multiculturalism (New York: New York University Press, 2004). Bourdieu and Wacquant's "On the Cunning of Imperialist Reason" and the debates surrounding it may be found in volumes 16 and 17 of the journal Theory, Culture and Society, dating from 1999 and 2000, respectively. See also Mark Alan Healey, "Powers of Misrecognition: Bourdieu and Wacquant on Race in Brazil," Neplantla: Views from the South, 4 (2003): 391–400, and Robert Stam & Ella Shohat, "Variations on an Anti-American Theme," CR: The New Centennial Review 5 (2005): 141–78. For the Patterson articles cited, see "Race Over," The New Republic 222 (January 10, 2000) and "Race by the Numbers," New York Times (May 8, 2001). Reed's "Class-ifying the Hurricane" appears in the October 3, 2005 issue of The Nation and his "The Real Divide" is featured in the November 2005 issue of The Progressive.

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Monthly Review | The Retreat from Race and Class

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David Roediger (droedige [at] uiuc.edu) teaches history at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign. His most recent book is Working toward Whiteness: How America's Immigrants Became White: The Strange Journey from Ellis Island to the Suburbs (Perseus Publishing, 2006). As the twentieth century started, indeed at almost exactly the same moment that W.

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Traveling for kids

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Find Out What Travelers Passing Through Ellis Island Wore in the Early 1900s

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Traveling was a little different for immigrants passing through Ellis Island in the 1920s. Read more here.

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The retreat

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Ellis Island History - The Statue of Liberty & Ellis Island

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The golden door

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Teaching American History in Maryland - Documents for the Classroom - Maryland State Archives

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The steerage passengers are loaded on to barges, rented by the steamship companies, and transferred to the immigrant station. This is located on Ellis Island, a group of small islands in the harbor, not far from the Statue of Liberty.

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Went through examinations

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"H" for heart problemsThe Immigrants: European immigrants made the decision to move to America were attracted by an abundance of land & plenty of work, booming industries and a higher standard of living. They grabbed the opportunity to escape religious intolerance and political tyranny. The Only 80,000 immigrants were barred from entry to the United States for diseases or defects - refer to The Immigrant Quota Act of 1921 and the

Ellis Island Immigration Process: Fast Fact Sheet
Fast, fun facts for kids about the Ellis Island immigration center:

Location: New Jersey side of Upper New York Bay, U.S.

What was the process? A medical and legal inspection

Who went through the process? Steerage and third class passengers - 1st and 2nd class passengers did not

Who was the first immigrant to be processed? Annie Moore

Who was the last immigrant to be processed? Arne Peterssen

How many immigrants were processed? 15 Million

Where did the inspections take place? the Registry Room (or Great Hall)

Ellis Island History Facts for kids: Immigration Acts
Congress passed the Immigration Act of 1882 which was the first comprehensive immigration law to restrict immigrants from Europe. This was followed by the Immigration Act of 1891 which regulated immigration even further.

Steps Ellis Island Immigration Process for kids: The Steps
Interesting facts and information about each of the steps undertaken by passengers who disembarked from their ships at the piers in New York Harbor. The First and Second Class passengers were not required to undergo the inspection procedure - they were quickly checked on board then went straight to customs and into the United States. Only those who were extremely sick or with legal issues were referred to Ellis Island.

Steps Ellis Island Immigration Process for kids
Only 2% of immigrants were refused entry to the United States and Deported Ellis Island Immigration Process Steps: The Piers: The migrants were transported from the piers by ferries or barge to Ellis Island where everyone would undergo a legal and medical inspection. Ellis Island Immigration Process Steps: The Baggage Room: Immigrants entered the main building through the baggage room where they left their trunks, suitcases and baskets to be claimed after the tests. Ellis Island Immigration Process Steps: Stairway to the Great Hall: Although the immigrants did not know it inspection began as they climbed the steep flight of stairs and into the great hall of the Registry Room. Doctors would make an initial inspection looking for signs of a medical problem or disability and checking whether anyone was wheezing, out of breathe, coughing, scratching, shuffling or limping.
"K" for hernias
"Sc" for scalp problems Medical problems: The type of medical problems that caused concern were cholera, favus (scalp and nail fungus), insanity, tuberculosis, epilepsy, and trachoma, a highly contagious eye infection that could cause blindness and death.
"X" for mental disability Deportation: Those with incurable or disabling ailments were excluded from entry and returned to their port of departure at the expense of the shipping line on which they arrived. Only 80,000 immigrants (2%) were barred from entry to the Untied States for diseases or defects - an extremely small proportion
"Pg" for pregnant The Legal Inspection: Inspectors used a list of 32 questions to determine if an immigrant should be admitted to America. These included their identity, place of origin, occupation, financial status and their planned destination in the United States. Inspectors rejected any immigrant with a criminal record Ellis Island Immigration Process Steps: Ellis Island Immigration Process Steps: Baggage Reclaim: After passing the tests and inspections people were allowed to reclaim their baggage. Ellis Island Immigration Process Steps: The Exit and the Kissing Post: The Kissing Post was the name given to the exit from Ellis Island. It was where many happy reunions were made between immigrants and their welcoming relatives. Ellis Island Immigration Process Steps: Ellis Island Immigration Process Steps:
Ellis Island Immigration Process Steps: New Americans: Most of the new Americans took a ferry to New Jersey to begin their journeys to the destinations in the United States. The remaining immigrants boarded the ferry to Manhattan, only one mile away, to begin their new life in New York City.

Steps Ellis Island Immigration Process for kids

Ellis Island Immigration Process for kids: US Immigration Laws The article on US Immigration Laws History provides facts, immigration statistics and a timeline from 1800's to the present. For facts about immigration from Japan, China and Asia refer to the Angel Island Immigration Station.

Ellis Island Immigration Process for kids
Interesting facts about the Ellis Island Immigration Process are detailed below. The history of the Ellis Island Immigration Process is told in a factual sequence consisting of a series of short facts providing a simple method of relating the history and events of the Ellis Island Immigration Process. For additional information refer to Ellis Island Facts and History.

Ellis Island Immigration Process for kids

Ellis Island Immigration Process Fact 1: Over 15 million immigrants to the United States were inspected at the center between 1892 and 1954.
Ellis Island Immigration Process Fact 2: The two federal agencies responsible for processing the immigrants were the United States Public Health Service and the Bureau of Immigration
Ellis Island Immigration Process Fact 3: The first immigration processing center was opened on January 1, 1892 but was destroyed by fire on June 15, 1897. During this 5 year period over 1.5 million immigrants were tested.
Ellis Island Immigration Process Fact 4: After the fire, a Temporary Immigration Center was set up at the old Barge Office on the Battery, Manhattan, New York was used as a temporary immigration station whilst a new immigration building was built. The new, massive three-story building opened for processing immigrants on January 1, 1902.
Ellis Island Immigration Process Fact 5: The Immigrants: 96% of immigrants arriving in New York traveled by sailing vessel from Europe to New York, the voyage took anything from 1-3 months. Traveling by steamship took 10 days.
Statue of Liberty became the symbolic landmark of freedom for all European immigrants on the last leg of their journey from Europe to Ellis Island and a new life in the United States of America. The immigrants dreaded the tests that awaited them... Ellis Island Immigration Process Fact 6:
Ellis Island Immigration Process Fact 7: Most immigrants booked passage in steerage or third class, the cheapest accommodation in crowded and unsanitary conditions.
US Immigration Laws History Ellis Island Immigration Process Fact 8:
Ellis Island Immigration Process Fact 9: The Alien Contract Labor Law of 1885 excluded all immigrants who took a job in exchange for passage.
National Origins Act of 1924 limited the number and nationality of immigrants allowed into the United States, effectively ended the era of mass immigration into New York Ellis Island Immigration Process Fact 10:
Ellis Island Immigration Process for kids

Push and Pull Factors
For visitors interested in the subject of immigration refer to our website on Push and Pull Factors of Immigration which provides details of why people left their homes in various countries and moved to the United States.

Ellis Island Immigration Process for kids - President Benjamin Harrison Video
The article on the Ellis Island Immigration Process provides detailed facts and a summary of one of the important events during his presidential term in office. The following Benjamin Harrison video will give you additional important facts and dates about the political events experienced by the 23rd American President whose presidency spanned from March 4, 1889 to March 4, 1893.

Ellis Island Immigration Process

● Interesting info with the Ellis Island Immigration Process for kids and schoolsImmigration Process● Foreign & Domestic policies of President Benjamin Harrison
● Summary of the Ellis Island Immigration Process in US history

● Benjamin Harrison Presidency and Ellis Island Immigration Process for schools, homework, kids and children
● The Ellis Island Immigration Process, a major event in US history
● Benjamin Harrison Presidency from March 4, 1889 to March 4, 1893
● Fast, fun, interesting facts about the Ellis Island

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"H" for heart problemsThe Immigrants: European immigrants made the decision to move to America were attracted by an abundance of land & plenty of work, booming industries and a higher standard of living. They grabbed the opportunity to escape religious intolerance and political tyranny.

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How long the immigrants stayed at Ellis island.

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This content resource is an interactive tour of Ellis Island. Students can explore different rooms in the main building at Ellis Island, and can view original photographs, listen to audio, or watch video.

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The travel.

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This content resource is an interactive tour of Ellis Island. Students can explore different rooms in the main building at Ellis Island, and can view original photographs, listen to audio, or watch video.

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The beginning of immigration.

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More than 12 million immigrants passed through the doors of the storied station. See photos from its peak years.

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Immigration experience

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Immigration Museum - The Statue of Liberty & Ellis Island