What Is the Reason?

ON three occasions in four years I have walked the decks of a ship and heard passengers thanking Providence for their deliverance from the land they were leaving, and characterizing it in unkind words. On the first two occasions I joined in the chorus; on the third, I listened with mingled emotions.

The first was in August, 1916, when I sailed from Sassnitz, Germany, for Sweden. The second was in the following January, when I made the same trip again, after spending Christmas with my family in Berlin. On both trips, the incautious passengers cursed Prussianism and the Kaiser as soon as they were fairly aboard; the cautious waited until the ship was outside Germany’s territorial waters, and then contributed their share to the chorus.

The third occasion was markedly different. The ship was sailing in peacetime; it was sailing from America for a foreign port; and the men and women who raised the song of thanksgiving were, albeit chiefly foreign-born, none the less American citizens. Their tone was not, in general, bitter. On the contrary, it was sad, but very earnest, very serious, and very deliberate. It was the expression of men and women who had thought long before taking a step that was very hard for them — a step that meant the severing of ties that had existed for years. One of the passengers had been in America fifty-four years, another forty-eight, without a break.

I sailed from New York in the late summer, on a Norwegian steamer. On the evening of the first day out, I fell into conversation with a group of thirdclass passengers. What I heard amazed me. These men and women spoke in the tones I had heard from refugees from Germany during the war; but it was America, not Prussia, about which they spoke. They were going back to Scandinavia to stay.

Assuredly, I thought, it must have been an accident which brought together in this one group only ScandinavianAmericans who were leaving America for all time. It seemed quite impossible that they could represent any considerable body of feeling on board. I began an investigation. There were, in round numbers, 750 passengers of the third class. I talked with nearly two hundred of them. They were mainly Norwegian-Americans, but there were also a good many Swedish-Americans and a sprinkling of DanishAmericans. Of the two hundred, I found just nine who said they intended to return to America. If the same ratio held good for the whole 750, more than 700 will stay in Scandinavia. At any rate, only an insignificant minority will go back.

With but few exceptions, the men with whom I talked were skilled workmen of the best class. There were a few farmers, two sailors, one deep-sea fisherman, and one real-estate dealer who had formerly been a skilled mechanic. One woman was the wife of a merchant in Chicago and another was a schoolteacher. Only a small number of the two hundred with whom I talked were nominal Socialists, and only one of these, a man of the agitator type, belonged to the Socialist Left. The others merely voted the Socialist ticket as a protest. There were many more, however, who declared that, if they had stayed in America this year, they would have voted for Debs. Most of the Socialists came from the upper Pacific Coast, especially Seattle. Their remarks about that city’s authorities were not complimentary.

I append some of the report s of conversations, noted at the time. All those recorded are American citizens, with one exception, which is specified.

I. Deep-sea fisherman, wife and two children. From the northwest coast. Been in America thirteen years, but is never going back. Will buy a farm in Norway. Says dozens of his friends are preparing to follow him. Many of these, he says, were forced to take part in the war, though they were not citizens. Was not called on himself because of varicose veins. Says,‘We would have fought if anybody had attacked us, but not in Europe.’ Excellent type of man, about 35 years old. Bright children and capable wife.

II. Norwegian, man and wife, about 45 years old. Been in America eighteen years. Thank God because they are going to ‘a free country.’

III. Young Norwegian, about 25. Been in America since he was 17. Says he would n’t go back ‘for a thousand million dollars.’ Is a common laborer.

IV. Swedish husband, Norwegian wife. He a skilled glass-cutter. Says ‘America is all right except for the people that run it.’ (This phrase has been used by dozens with whom I have talked .) This couple have been fifteen years in America. Will settle in Sweden.

V. Norwegian woman, lived twentyseven years on a farm near Chicago. Her husband staying behind to sell the farm, and will join her in Norway.

VI. Swedish woman, lived last eighteen years in Chicago, where her husband has a store. He is staying behind to sell out. Will join her as soon as possible and live in Sweden. Used to like America, but it’s ‘a different country now.’ Says, ‘Vi ha haft nog’ (we have had enough).

VII. Machinist, seven years in America. Had his own machine-shop, which he converted into a garage. Sold it out a month ago. ‘Seven years of free America are a plenty for me.’

VIII. Highly educated Swedish woman, a schoolteacher. Has been thirty years in America. Will live with relatives near Gothenburg, and probably teach school. Says, also, ‘Jag har haft nog’ (I have had enough).

IX. Old Norwegian woman, fortyeight years in America and never been back in that time. Is going back to stay. Says ‘ America is n’t what it used to be.’ (This phrase is constantly on the lips of all with whom I have talked, including even those who intend to return.)

X. Dressmaker, been in New York ten years. Is returning to America ‘ because I can make so much money there. America is all right if you think the way they want you to think. I don’t have any trouble because I think the way they do; or if I don’t, I don’t say anything.’

XL Machinist from Seattle. About 30 years old. Been in America eleven years. Asked him, ‘Are you going to Norway to stay?’ He said, ‘You bet your life I am.’ Fine, clean type of man. Plays violin with much skill and musicianly feeling. Despises jazz music. Is especially fond of Grieg and Ole Bull, whose ‘Säterjäntans söndag’ (Shepherd Maid’s Sunday Afternoon) he played for me in a manner really remarkable for a more or less self-taught mechanic.

XII. Miner from near Centralia, Oregon. Norwegian, about 40 years old.

Been six years in America. Was crippled by a fall in a mine. Speaks very bitterly of America, which he never wants to see again. Also plays the violin, with strong preference for Norwegian music.

XIII. Norwegian, deep-sea sailor. About 25 years old; been six years in America. Is going back because he can get good wages and is at sea most of the time, ‘so it does n’t matter much where I live. But I would n’t want to live in America steady. It’s all right, except for the people that run it.’

XIV. Norwegian sailor from Michigan. Came to America in 1903. Sings a steady refrain about money and ‘fine yobs,’ and says he won’t be able to stand it in Norway very long. Is 37 years old and has not been back to Norway since he first left.

XV. Swede, 41. Been in America five years. Has his first papers. Has a wife in Sweden and paid his income taxes as a married man. Showed me the receipt. The collectors at the port refused to regard him as a married man because his wife is not in America. He offered to make affidavit that he was sending regular remittances to her, but they refused to accept it, and he had to pay taxes and penalties aggregating $119.25. Used up all his best Swedish cuss words in talking about America. Said, ‘Amerika ser mig aldrig igen’ (America will never see me again). Is a lumberman. Says he will have no trouble in finding work in Sweden.

XVI. Norwegian, wife and four children. Came over in 1903. Originally a mechanic, but has for some years had a good real-estate business in a northwestern city. Says he got all his education in America, and is grateful for it, ‘but human beings have some rights. It is n’t the old America any more. That was a fine country, a real freedom’s land, but not any more.’ Thinks he can at least earn ‘ three square meals a day ’ in Norwray, and is willing to get along with very little if he can live ‘in a free country.’ Talks intelligently of the part played by Scandinavians in helping build up America. Says 40,000 other Norwegians left Norway the same year he came away, and he believes thousands will go back. Says he knows personally a great many who will go back as soon as they can close up their affairs in America. Referring to the fact that he walks with a cane, he said, ‘The Americans may say I’m a cripple, and it does n’t make any difference whether I go or stay; but I’m bringing four boys on this ship to help build up Norway. That means something.’ No bitterness in his remarks about America, but plainly genuine sorrow at being compelled to leave.

XVII.Old Norwegian, been 54 years in America. Says, ‘Jag har haft nog.’ Sold his farm and also a small business, and will spend the rest of his life in Norway, ‘a free country.’

The above is not a selected list of conversations. I give them just as they stand in my notebook, without omissions or additions. They represent accurately the sentiment of all but an insignificant minority of the men and women with whom I talked. Of those who intended to return to America, only one, number fourteen in this list, was enthusiastic about it. Two Danish-Americans, who intended to go back, admitted that they were doing so only because they had good businesses in America which they could not readily dispose of without a big sacrifice. Another Danish-American was making the trip with his bride, an American woman.

‘Are you going back to America?’ I asked him.

‘Indeed he is,’ said the bride.

The husband acquiesced, but he was plainly not enthusiastic about it.

Prohibition played its part in driving these people from the country, but I found no one who said that it was the sole cause. There is more behind.

’I had been thinking for a year or two of going back to the old country,’ said one of the most intelligent of the men with whom I talked. ‘I have been an American citizen for twelve years, but I’m just a damned foreigner, nevertheless. Look at my children. They don’t understand a word of Norwegian. That’s how good an American I was. And then this prohibition law came. That settled it. I’m going back to a country where I won’t be a damned foreigner.’

Among all the children of the thirdclass passengers (and there were many), I did not find one who knew a dozen words of the parents’ mother tongue. They knew no language but English, and most of the parents told me they always talked English before the children. ‘That’s how good Americans we are,’ in the words of the man I have just quoted. Later, I met in Christiania a youth of seventeen who had come over with his parents.

‘I’m having a devil of a time,’ he told me. ‘I’ve got as much as a thousand uncles and aunts and cousins and all that kind of business here, and not one of ’em can talk a word of anything but Norwegian. All the Norwegian I know is skoal and “good day,” and you can’t get very far with that. But dad says he’s going to stay here, so I ’ve got to hustle and learn the talk.’

There is material here for a good deal of serious thought. I do not try to draw many morals. This is merely a piece of honest reporting. But I wonder whether something is not radically wrong with the administration of a country when men and women of the fine type who made up this shipload — precisely the type of men and women who constitute the backbone of any country — find it impossible to live longer in the land to which they sailed so hopefully in the years gone by. Or do they simply imagine that they cannot endure it? But even then there must be something wrong, for imagination must have some little food to feed upon. What has happened to make it impossible for the man referred to as number one in this list to live in America longer? Is it not a real loss to the country to lose a man who says he and his friends would have gladly fought in the war ‘if they had attacked us’? ‘Us’ is America. But Norway gets this man back, with his wife and two sturdy children.

What shall one say of the little dressmaker (number ten), who goes back to America solely for the sake of the money she can earn, but who knows that she can have no opinions of her own so long as she lives there? What shall one say of the schoolteacher (number eight), who, after thirty years in America, breaks the ties of more than half her life — she is not yet 50 — and goes back to live in an aristocratic kingdom rather than stay longer in an alleged democratic republic?

Some such comment could be made about almost every case I have recorded. But it is not needed. The facts speak a language eloquent enough for all who do not believe that patriotism requires us to believe blindly that everything we do, think, and say is right. America is filled with the evidences of Scandinavian industry, frugality, honesty, and energy. Hundreds of our communities would not exist today, and hundreds of others would be but shadows of what they are, if it had not been for the Swedes, Norwegians, and Danes who gave us so much and asked so little in return. And now they are going away from us by the thousands, back to ‘a free country.’

What is the reason?