By Allan Roy Andrews
I
grew up a neighbor to the Statue of Liberty.
From
the apartment in which we lived during my youth in Brooklyn, I could glance down
the street toward New York Harbor and see the statue on Liberty Island (which we
knew as Bedloe’s Island; it was renamed in 1956). The statue gleamed at night
as floodlights shone upon it; during the day it showed the green tint of
weathering copper.
On
October 28, 2011, the statue celebrated the 125th anniversary of its
dedication.
New
York City children in the late 19th century donated pennies that
went toward the building of the pedestal upon which the statue stands.
Newspaper magnate Joseph Pulitzer, a Hungarian immigrant, promised to publish
the names of every donor to the pedestal fund. The French, who presented the
statue to the United States--a gift celebrating America’s 1876 centennial--called
it “Liberty Enlightening the World.”
Almost
every New York City school child recalls the 1883 poem of Emma Lazarus
dedicated to the statue. Thousands have heard or read Lazarus’s poem; not many,
however, recall its official name, “The New Colossus,” a name the poet chose to
emphasize that the Statue of Liberty was “Not like the brazen giant of Greek
fame” providing a defiant defensive stance, but one that would be a beacon of
“world-wide welcome.”
Lazarus,
a well-known New York poet, was asked to write a commemorative poem to be
auctioned as part of the pedestal fundraising, and she responded that she
couldn’t write a poem about a statue; however, she turned her compassion for Jewish
Russian refugees—many of whom she taught--into a compelling appeal on their
behalf. She understood the statue’s imagery and its powerful message to those
sailing into a welcoming haven.
The
most memorable lines of her sonnet are words given the “mighty woman with a
torch”:
"Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe
free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore,
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed
to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"
Lazarus turned the French appellation
of enlightenment into a compassionate symbol of freedom and opportunity, a
promise of liberty to those oppressed in foreign lands. In her sonnet, she
called the woman with the torch that gleams with that message of welcome the
“Mother of Exiles.”
Lazarus was not on Bedloe’s
Island when the statue was dedicated in 1886. Her poem was read but barely noticed
and little recalled following the celebration.
The poet died the following
year. She was 38. Her poem later became immortalized on the pedestal of the statue
in 1903.
Despite
being raised in New York City, I’ve never visited Liberty Island; I’ve never
stood at the base of the statue or climbed up inside its magnificent structure.
I’ve never taken a tourist’s stance toward Lady Liberty; to me, she was a
neighbor and friend. Even as the son of immigrants I’ve never felt a need for a
compulsory visit to her island home. Nevertheless, with a little help from Emma
Lazarus, I knew deeply what the Mother of Exiles exemplified about my country.
A victim of frequent neglect,
the statue has been refurbished twice, once in 1938 and again in 1986. On
October 29 of this year she was closed again to inside climbers
so alterations could make her safer.
We may recover her safety and
sheen, but we have neglected to polish her symbolic message.
Sentiments such as those
promoted by the Federation for American Immigration Reform (FAIR), for example,
suggest the statue’s beckoning of openness in this era is “an invitation to
national disaster.” Playing on mean-spirited and misguided fear-arguments of
job losses and national security, FAIR apparently would rather we muffle or
extinguish the lamp of freedom blazing above New York Harbor as we seek to
ferret out terrorism and illegal aliens. Emma Lazarus would disagree.
What is now in need of
refurbishment in a time of selfish anti-immigration attitudes in several state
legislatures of America are the sentiments of compassion, freedom, and welcome
to the legitimately tired and poor yearning to breathe free, sentiments that
Lazarus symbolically attributed to the copper-clad gift from France.
Protectionism often inhibits
enlightenment. Should I decide soon to take my family to Liberty Island, it
won’t be to focus arrogantly on Liberty enlightening the world or on some
warped sense of national security. Our visit will be to appreciate the Mother
of Exiles and her enduring message of openness to poor and tired immigrants and
refugees.
ALLAN ROY ANDREWS, a
Brooklyn native whose parents sailed into New York harbor in the 1920s, is a
retired editor of the Pacific Stars and Stripes newspaper and a poet living in Augusta, GA.
