NTG Backlog Catch-Up #1!

YO!

Yo, I know what you're saying. "It's about time you catch up on that expansive backlog of posts that are looooong overdue!"

Actually, I'm saying that to myself. That and "SHUT UP!" Actually, I just said that to Suzy Kolber. That lady's annoying as hell.

Here's installment #1: a short photo essay of my trip to Ellis Island.

My story? I'm not a bum... I'm a jerk.

That aside, my mom was in town for a weekend last month, and she specifically wanted to hit Ellis Island to look up her grandparents' names on the wall. She knew they emigrated from Italy, but she didn't know in what year, on what ship, etc. So off we went to check the registry.

Enjizzz-oy the snizzz-aps!


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After the tiringly long odyssey (which is redundant, I suppose... is there such a thing as a short odyssey?) to get to Battery Park, we wound up on the ferry.



On the way, we passed Lady Liberty. I yelled to her, asked what she thought about that fact that Bush is a genocidal war-mongering asshole. She didn't answer.







This is the entrance to the Ellis Island Museum. Note Cait's ass in the foreground.

Hi honey!



I like the composition in this one a lot. I snapped it just before the pigeon took off. Check the smiley face, too.



Once we got in, we checked the registry for my great-grandfather, Antonio Tedesco.



On our way out to the wall to look for his name, we passed this. From the one direction it looks as such:



Then from the other direction...



We made our way outside to the name wall.



The computer kindly told us where we could find his name on the massive wall, with its hundreds of thousands of names:



After finding his name, Mom and I swore to find out more about what year he and his wife arrived, what ship, etc. [Ed. Note: we've recently found out, Antonio emigrated in 1914, and we're still tracking down distant relatives to see if they any more info.]

Here's the requisite skyline picture:



On our way back in, we passed this display... I kind of like the color scheme of the people. It's so true-to-life; all men are green, and all women are orange. Pure and simple! Also, check Mom in the upper-left corner.



From there we hit the Registry Room, which, according to this sign, processed 5,000 people a day for almost 25 years. That's a lotta-ass people. It also, not according to the sign, processed Vito Andolini, who would become Vito Corleone, who would become the Don of all Dons.



The registry room ceiling provided an outlet for my "photographing things from directly beneath" fetish:





From the Registry Room Balcony:



These semi-circular windows are at either end of the Registry Room. Here it is today:



And in 1907. Check the reflection of the ceiling, and Pentax at the bottom of the frame. I like this one a lot:



Before we left we checked out this photography exhibit. The photographer, Augustus Frederick Sherman, was a clerk at Ellis, and an amateur photographer. His photos of immigrants at Ellis in the early 1900's are some of the most well-known. It's pretty inspiring to see an amateur photographer have such an impact.



Needless to say, I love the reflection in this one.



Inscription: "Russian baby - 11 mos., 55 pounds."



I could not stop looking at this kid. His face just has so much character. According to the inscription (not shown), he's one of 8 orphans.



This was one of my favorites from the photo gallery, specifically for the inscription:

"Peter Meyer - 5'7" Denmark. 'Mauretania' Apr 30 '09.
Wealthy Dane in search of pleasure."



Yo, if I ever emigrate, that's the reason I'm giving.

"And why do you want to move to Ireland, Mr. JMP?"

"Why, in search of pleasure, of course. That, and our president is a brain-dead fool."

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You probably can't tell, but this post took me three days to compile and finish. See? I work hard on this thing! That Suzy Kolber joke was from a game Zack and I watched two nights ago!

I promise, I'll try to get back on some kind of real track. If only work hadn't become so... work-y.

Yes, that is now officially a word, and I own ALL rights to it. If you use it in print or speech, you must pay me.

Handsomely.


*****N*T*G*****

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