Facing the ferry station house of Ellis Island one sunny day, Augustus Sherman planted his clunky black-box camera on a tripod to take the portraits of a group of immigrants. The skies were clear, and the open space on the island, far from Manhattan’s soaring towers, provided better lighting. Sherman, who worked more than one job on the island from 1892 to 1925, including clerk and secretary to the commissioner of immigration, was also assigned to photograph the would-be Americans whose portraits displayed remarkable variations in faces, garments and poses.
Tense and restless, the immigrants often kept a straight face. Most of them sought prosperity, having escaped agricultural and economic crises in various parts of Europe. They now awaited the auspicious moment they might find solace. One of them, a dashing tanned man draped in a striated gown with an ornate deep collar and wearing a white turban, stood out among the sullen faces. He was smiling.
The “Algerian Man,” as Sherman dubbed him in his photograph, with no additional biographical details, held a cigarette in his right hand and grinned at the sunny skies. He stood at the threshold of the American Dream. Create a free account to continue reading Already a New Lines member? Log in here Create an account to access exclusive content.