On Saturday, June 25, 2005, Rich Mahan addressed approximately 175 family members who came together in Charleston to celebrate the Haddad Family of Jib Jannine. Rich evoked many memories of tales we heard from our parents and grandparents... about the experience of leaving a small town in Lebanon... and setting out on a journey none of them could have fully anticipated... to begin new lives in America. He concluded by reminding everyone that, like our ancestors, "We are proud to be Americans, but we are also proud of our Lebanese heritage."

Below is the complete text of Rich's address.

 
Family Reunion Address - 2005
by Rich Mahan

Norman Haddad, in his newsletters and in his emails, often quotes Kahlil Gibran, the great Lebanese philosopher and writer, who wrote: "You should be proud of being an American, but you should also be proud that your fathers and mothers came from a land upon which God laid His gracious hand and raised His messengers."

A little piece of that God-blessed land is the little village by the name of Jib Jannine, which has so many variations of spellings that no one knows exactly how it is spelled. The village today has a population of about 7,000, but back in the early 1900's, it was about 4,000. It's a little village nestled in the mountains of Lebanon, and as you approach, it reminds you of some of the small towns in the Midwest.

Jib Jannine is quaint with its narrow streets, white stone houses and buildings and churches. As I walked through the streets and saw little children playing and talking to each other in Arabic, I imagined myself being born and living there.

In fact, anyone of us could have been one of those little children in the streets had it not been for the courage and the dreams of our fathers, mothers, and grandparents, who left the old country to build a better life for themselves and their families in America. Many of them never returned to their beloved village and country, but they carried it in their hearts.

It's hard to imagine how they would leave Jib Jannine and either walk or ride a donkey or a horse or a wagon to Beirut, which is about 25 miles away, to catch a train to cities like Paris, Cherbourg, Liverpool or London where they would board a ship bound for America. I often wondered how they got enough money to pay for the ticket. Many of them were just teenagers, with very little education; some could barely read and write in Arabic, much less in English.

They depended a great deal on those who were traveling with them --- family, friends, cousins or someone from the same village. They bonded together as family knowing that they had a long trip ahead of them.

Most of them speaking Arabic only, moved from one country to another as they pursued their dream of coming to America. They boarded ships with names like the Olympic, the New York, the Chicago, the Berlin, and they headed for America.

Conditions on those ships were deplorable. They were more like freighters than luxury liners. The average ship carried between 2,100 to 3,000 passengers and they all traveled 3rd class in what is called steerage. A ticket from Liverpool to New York cost 21 Guineas for a berth; 6 Guineas for Steerage; children were ˝ price, and infants under 12 months cost 1 Guinea. The quarters were cramped, but when weather permitted, they would sit up on deck to get some fresh air and have some time to themselves. Most of them brought only what they could carry.

They ate their meals in massive dining rooms in the bottom of the ship. The food that was prepared was strange to them. For breakfast they were given bread and tea or coffee with milk and /or sugar. Lunch was a bowl of soup and piece of bread. Supper was boiled meat, (except on Friday then it was fish), and potatoes. The menu never changed… day in and day out for weeks.

When they first boarded the ship they brought with them some of their own food… talamee, kishik, bulgur, zatone, dried fruit and shared it with those traveling with them.

On board the ship there were births and deaths; marriages and anniversaries. Although the conditions on board weren't very good, it didn't dampen their spirits. At the end of a long voyage of weeks, they would be in a new land with new beginnings.

As they approached New York City, they could see Lady Liberty standing in the harbor. My father said to me that she was the most beautiful lady he had ever seen.

During that period, everyone entered America through Ellis Island. It was a frightening experience; a place of uncertainty. There were stories of deportation and quarantine which spread all over the world, to the point that Ellis Island was known as the Island of Tears.

From the five thousand immigrants who arrived daily, about 20% spent their first night on Ellis Island… they slept on benches, chairs and the floor, although some 3 tiered beds were available. They were herded into the Great Hall, and waited their turn. They were asked a lot of questions, many of which they didn't understand. They did almost anything to stay in America and not be deported and sent home.

The authorities changed many of their names… Georges became George; Nulla became Nick; Najeeb became Nathan; Sumaale became Sam; Daoud became David; Makoul became Michael.

My wife, Donna Jean's other grandfather's name was Milhem Elias Haddad… they dropped the Haddad changed Elias to Ellis and Milhem to William, he became William Ellis.

Each inspector was responsible for examining 400-500 newcomers everyday. Once they were registered, there were two examinations, a Medical Exam and a Legal Exam. If a person flunked either, they were detained… some were detained as much as a week and were housed on Ellis Island.

With Land Cards displayed proudly around their necks, they were allowed to board a ferry that would take them to their new home.

For those who were blessed to stay in America, they left Ellis Island for different parts of the country. The grandchildren of Suleyman and Sada Haddad made their way to Massachusetts, New York, Chicago, Canada, and West Virginia.

Ethnic neighborhoods helped them to adjust to life in the New World. They moved in with family and friends. Their life in America centered in the Church, which became for them a place of social, religious, and emotional support.

They were willing to do anything and work for pennies to provide for their families. Jobs in the coal mines, on railroads, and in construction were paying $2.20 to $3.55 a day.

Some of the family were back-peddlers and would hawk their wares wherever they could, carrying their businesses on their backs to the coal mines of West Virginia. They would buy items in the city, like needles and threads, clothes, pots and pans, and walk the railroad tracks to coal mine towns and sell them to the coal miners.

Others peddled fruit on the street and opened up grocery stores in little neighborhoods. At one time, there were as many as 28 grocery stores owned by Lebanese immigrants in a 5 mile radius of Charleston.

They moved to little towns like Whitesville, Clothier and Madison and sold dry goods and established department stores.

The children were encouraged to go to school and get an education. Parents, wanting so badly to be Americans, spoke English at home even though it was difficult. Therefore many first generation American-Lebanese do not even speak Arabic.

The great grandchildren, and great-great grandchildren, and great- great- great- grandchildren have done very well in America… they are doctors, lawyers, engineers, dentists, businessmen and women.

We are proud to be Americans, but we are also proud of our Lebanese heritage.