Magyar News, 1990. november-1991. augusztus (1. évfolyam, 1-10. szám)

1991-02-01 / 4. szám

Joseph F Balogh THOUGHTS AT THE GATE OF IMMIGRANTS

Standing in line at the mouth of the Hudson River with feet on the ground of Battery Park, eyes fixed on an island next to the Statue of Liberty, bracing against the never ending wind, listening to the rythmical splashing of the water, the mind wanders far away. Far, maybe across the ocean, but unavoidably back in time when people coming and going in the area were not tourists, but our ancestors coming to the land of their hopes and dreams. They all came to Ellis Island, and after being processed they stepped into a world that seemed to be a different planet to what they knew. Hopelessly they were trying to match the scenery of reality to the images their imagination created. These did not correspond. Neither did the life style, the nature of the work, nor anything one could think of show some familiarity to their previous experience. They came to America, to the land of promise. Soon enough they all found out that the promise was just that, and for it to come true one had to prove himself.

Hungarian immigrants, like any other nationality, considered it to be God’s blessing to find a community of their own where they could get support for the time needed to make the proper adjustments in this new country. This community was stable, building itself stronger as time passed. Many of its members never found the need to learn the language of this country, they only spoke Hungarian. The community was a haven, protecting and nurturing the newcomers, the “greenhorns.” It was an ethnic island, and the results of adjustment varied. For some it took much longer than for others.

As we were strolling on Ellis Island, we read many Hungarian names engraved into the copper plates that lined the wall on the bank of the water. Inside the beautifully restored building, hopping from one exhibit to the other, anxiously trying to find the memorabilia of those many thousand Hungarians whose first step onto American soil happened at this island. Going through the exhibits the second time I came to the conclusion that the Hungarian community of the United States hasn’t made its contribution yet. Finding only a couple of non characteristic dresses, a baby shoe, did not show a representation of our people. Strangely enough a small glass case, considered to have the belongings of a Polish family, displayed a towel that had cross stitched on it the words; JO REGGELT.

To many this might not be a noticeable problem, but unfortunately it is a problem. It is our responsibility. The Hungarian community has the obligation to pay homage to our forefathers who opened up the gate to all Hungarian immigrants and their offspring. In the Ellis Island exhibits we see the tighter communities represented, like the Jewish, Irish, Italian, but not the Hungarian. One might say that there are so many Hungarians all over the US, let others take care of it. But, do you know that once, not long ago, this area had the second largest Hungarian population in America? Don’t you think that in this respect your attics and basements could be a goldmine, filled with treasures of your immediate ancestors? Don’t think about it, do something. My wife’s grandparents had their original trunk, that carried their belongings from Hungary, sitting and rusting in the basement. Today it is restored and it is adorning our livingroom, and the old sausage stuffer found its place on the wall of our kitchen.

In these years some of our local institutions are celebrating their century long existence. The William Penn is in its second century, the First United Church and the Holy Trinity B.C. Church are preparing for the one. hundredth year celebration. The funeral homes serving the Hungarians afe also in line. As a mat-BUSO-JARAS

There is a period of time between the two big holidays, Christmas and Easter, or to be very exact from January 6th to Ash Wednesday, with a little stumbling across Shrowe Tuesday. We call it the Epiphany season but in Hungary the name for it is Farsang. This is the time to let loose and live it up. The supplies of the past harvest are still high, and leaving the shortest day of the winter behind, one is approaching the promise of spring, the renewal of nature. The customs that became tradition were never sanctified by the clergy because the carnivals, the suggestive costumes, heavy drinking and indulging in food wasn’t quite in line with the morals of the churches. The clergy even titled them as the “fun parties of Hell,” or the “holidays of Hell.”

Well the Farsang was not a Hungarian invention. It probably came from Italy via the German culture, through Vienna. The name Farsang is definitely German,

ter of fact, the Frank Polke and Son Funeral Home with five generations was a hundred years old in 1990. It is high time to collect whatever there is to make sure that the footsteps of the Hungarians are not just marks in the sand, but they stand out as markings of history.

It would be good to know about the “hidden treasures”. Probably we should make contact with the proper organizations like Ellis Island or do something locally like the Holy Trinity B.C. Church where a Heritage Museum was established. There are books published about this Hungarian community besides the annual reports of the churches. There is Magdalena Havadtoy’s book “Down in Villa Park”, Dr. Paulus’ dissertation and a document film Searching for “Wordin Avenue”. It would also be an exciting project to have a contest going on to collect and publish writings about the past in this Hungarian community. We all have memories, some going back in time, some recent. Take the trouble to write it down. It could be in English, or in Hungarian. Some might be writings that are complete essays, others, just as valuable, information, resource materials, photographs, etc. Don’t let it go to waste, cherish it. if there is anything you would like us to know, sit down with a paper and pen and drop us a note. It is your own heritage that you are saving.

but the carnival and the muskara, the masks with the costumes are unmistakenly Italian. Farsang in Hungary first was accepted by cities and larger towns but later in the sixteenth century it grew roots in the countryside too. Blending together with some existing customs, like the dramatic presentation of the struggle of winter and spring, gave new perspective to the old tradition. Farsang became the strongest in southern Hungary. In the town Mohács people still gather for the carnival. The lads carve scary masks, paint it with fierce colors and dress as bears, horses or bulls, or just anything frightening. Since there is an overtone of fertility and machoism, these carnivals, called Busa-jaras, sometimes get out of hand. There were years when it was abolished but the museum collection of masks is so inspiring that the Buso-jaras seems to reappear. There is nothing wrong with these carnivals as long as it remains fun. (CMB)