13 million or so immigrants passed through Ellis Island (near the Statue of Liberty in New York Harbour) between 1900-1910. They are recorded on documents with one hand-scribbled line per human life, and dozens of lives to a page. Some of my people are in there.

Did you have a “calling or occupation”? Could you read, write and speak English? What was your nationality and race (there were 20-30 different ones, on board)?

“In possession of $50 and if less, how much?” Most said they had exactly that. No one said more.

Had you been in prison, an almshouse or an insane asylum? Were you an anarchist, or a polygamist? Were you crippled or deformed, or unhealthy in body or mind? Everyone was absolutely fine, to a tee. Doctors checked.

Just because a ship landed on Monday, it didn’t mean you could leave on Monday. Detention could take a while.

On a separate Record of Detained Aliens, all appeared to be children and teens. Under the heading of “Disposition” were comments like “to friend, to relation, to sibling”, so this Disposition did not mean your character or mood but in what direction they were disposing of you. Many were disposed in the direction of illegible addresses.

The record “two breakfasts, two lunches, two suppers” may explain why $16 was declared, crossed out, and $10 written instead. Maybe you arrived with $16, got detained, got fed and then got billed for it before you even saw a gangplank.

The final crucial column held the sacred initials of officials, finally releasing you into your new life, at 16:35 in the afternoon.

Welcome to New York City, and good luck to you.
Here is where I lost Gran’s trail for a few years. She turned up in the 1910 Census, as Mrs Kardos, in the Bronx, with their first child. More on that, next time.
I am not sure exactly how Granddad got to New York. I am extremely curious about that.
Research continues.