Portuguese Immigration Testimonial

After a long and grueling boat ride across the Atlantic Ocean from the off shore island of the Azores in the Southwest Europe nation of Portugal, my parents and I arrived in New Bedford, Massachusetts in New England. It was the year 1925. Some of our family had arrived before us; some even arrived several years before we did. On the way there I remember listening to my father tell me stories about New England. My favorite story was about the explorers and how they came to find New England. He told me that there was a nautical map that dates back to 1424 which depicted New England and that a Portuguese Sailor, Dualmo, arrived in New England in 1487, five years prior to Christopher Columbus whom supposedly was the first man to discover New England.

My parents and I were the last in my immediate family to travel to New England. My grandfather was a stubborn man and did not want to leave the old country so he planted his feet and refused to follow many of his family and friends. I guess my dad was the same way for quite some time until finally he saw more opportunities awaiting him across the Atlantic. I think it had something to do with a letter he received from my Uncle Rui. I ran across the letter one day before we left. In the letter Uncle Rui was telling my father about the factories that were hiring and paying much more than what dad was making then and that there were farming communities down further on the cape that also had great working opportunities. Uncle Rui went on and on about the factories though and how much happier he and the family were.

Despite his reasoning for choosing to make the change he still acted stubborn and with a bit of my grandfather’s personality, he planted his feet (so-to-speak) and refused to make changes and adjust to a new country, lifestyle and culture. He told me some of our friends and family's surnames had changed, such as “Rodrigues” became “Rogers;” Oliveira to “Oliver;” “Silva” to “Silver;” and “Pereira” to “Perry.” He swore the entire ride across the ocean that his name was “Souza” and it would stay “Souza” until the day he died.

I often wondered why my father would tell me such stories and wondered if these stories were supposed to scare me.