The following teaser is from an article about one person’s Ellis Island experience, and her recommendations to others. Read the full article in the November 8, 2009 edition of the Contra Costa Times.
I never met Peter William Tatko. He died before my birth. I knew him only as the tall, balding, bug-eyed man
I’d seen in a handful of pictures and the hard-drinking, boisterous quarry owner I’d heard about from my grandfather. But he was the reason I was here.
More than a decade ago, I began tracing my family roots, a pastime that has grown so popular in the United States that the country now has more than a quarter of a million genealogical societies. After years of pouring over vital records, collecting family photos and documenting relatives’ stories, I knew it wasn’t enough. I still felt disconnected.
That’s what makes the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island so invaluable as historical monuments. They stand not only as a testament to the country’s past but also as a piece of family history for millions of Americans. They offer us a chance to walk in the footsteps of our ancestors.
Eight years ago, while tracing the life of my great-grandfather, I hit a wall. I knew he had left Poland at age 18, arriving at Ellis Island in April 1901. Tatko wasn’t a common name. Yet a search of passenger records turned up only a Jan Tatko.
Stymied, I went to my great-aunt Aggie.“I forgot all about that,” she said with a laugh. “You see, my father stole a cow…”
The son of a butcher who had fallen on hard times, my great-grandfather had stolen a cow to help feed his 11 siblings. A hanging offense, it forced him to flee Poland. Because an arrest warrant was issued, he couldn’t leave under his own name. So, he used his father’s travel documents, which is how Peter became Jan.
