Not Romanticizing the Immigrant Experience

One of the regular commenters around here frequently notes how one’s own experiences condition one’s reactions to what one sees and hears. I certainly think that’s true.

I think my views in a lot of areas are atypical and some of that may be rooted in my experiences or those of my family. A case in point is immigration. I think my experience differs from most people’s in a couple of ways.

First, all eight of my great-great-grandfathers were either born here in the United States prior to 1865 or arrived in the United States in or prior to 1865. Second, I don’t think of emigrating to the United States as heroic, romantic or anything of the sort because of my earliest exposure to my Schuler family history.

I’ve mentioned this before but my great-great-grandfather Schuler for whom I was named didn’t come over here seeking a better life. He came over here under a cloud, in shame, one step ahead of the sheriff, because he’d lost the family’s money gambling and had to get out.

Back in the 19th century Swiss society was highly primogenitive—the eldest son got everything. In rural Switzerland where there weren’t many opportunities for practical purposes that meant that the eldest son became the head of the family and the rest of his siblings ended up working for him. My great-great-grandfather, the eldest son, lost everything playing jass, a card game peculiar to Switzerland. I also suspect that kirschwasser was involved because in my limited understanding of jass it is tightly interconnected with copious consumption of the homemade liquor.

It was a disaster for the family. So much so that it’s still spoken of in hushed tones among the family who stayed back in Switzerland nearly 150 years later.

I heard that story from babyhood. Consequently, from my point of view my great-great-grandfather Schuler, the immigrant, isn’t the hero of our family story, he’s the goat. That’s why I don’t see anything particularly heroic or romantic about immigrating from the Old Country. It’s something you did because you had to.

6 comments… add one
  • “I like t’think you killed a man. It’s the romantic in me.”

  • I’m shocked, shocked.

  • Brett Link

    I’ve mentioned this before but my great-great-grandfather Schuler for whom I was named didn’t come over here seeking a better life. He came over here under a cloud, in shame, one step ahead of the sheriff, because he’d lost the family’s money gambling and had to get out.

    Well, you’re in good company. Criminal and/or debtor backgrounds were pretty common for many immigrants in the pre-Irish and even pre-independent US waves who didn’t go to the New England colonies. Look up the history of many indentured servants in the colonies, for example.

    I’m rather different, of course. My father is an immigrant, and only half of my mother’s side have been here for more than 3 generations.

  • Elizabeth Mullens Link

    Hi..not sure if this is the same guy, but helping my son do his ancestry we traced back to a Joseph Schuler who is on Ellis Island registry on June 19 1905. This is goes back from his dad’s grandmas side of the family. Going back 5 generations. if this is the same man, that would be great to know so much.

  • Hello, Elizabeth. My great-great-grandfather David Schuler, Joseph’s father, arrived in this country at the Port of New Orleans in 1865. Your Joseph Schuler is clearly a different guy.

Leave a Comment