Gaetano Rossi

He was dressed in his best slacks and blazer with a crisp, white shirt and tie. In his pocket were his passport and immigration papers. The sun was shining and Gaetano Rossi was arriving at Halifax's Pier 21.

This time, however, he had come by car from Toronto not by boat from Naples. He was 68 not 18. He had money in his pocket and a full stomach. He was a grandfather and a Canadian citizen with full rights to go anywhere he pleased. This time he spoke English and he would be the one explaining how things worked and where we should go.

The date was July 28, 2001 and my uncle was in Halifax for the first time since he arrived at Pier 21 on July 28, 1951 aboard the Saturnia. With him today were his brother, who had followed him from Italy in 1958, and his son, daughter, son-in-law, grandaughter, grandson and nephew who were all born in his adopted country. We were there to celebrate his 50 year anniversary in Canada.

From 1928 to 1971, Pier 21 processed over 1 million immigrants from around the world. Each of them had gone through some screening in the countries they had left, but they still had to face a final immigration officer at Pier 21. They could still be sent back if their papers weren't in order or there were medical issues or they had insufficient money to take the train further west. They still had to be judged and to fear they might be turned away.

This time there was no fear and it was he who would judge. As we approached the restored immigration shed, we passed an old Canadian National rail car that had been used to transport immigrants to the farms and mines in Ontario and elsewhere.

"This must be the deluxe model that came after my time," explained my uncle. "The one I rode in had wooden benches, not these stuffed, leather seats." "They were still wood in 1958," added my father.

The pier buildings were all clean and recently painted since they had been restored and opened as a museum in 1999.

"They've really cleaned it up," my uncle said. "The place was incredibly dark and dirty when I arrived." "It was still dark and dirty in 1958," chimed in my dad.

There is a multi-media movie presentation that features vignettes from Pier 21's history. One of those vignettes features an Italian family that has just been granted landed immigrant status and is about to board the train. They had been frightened, but now they break into song as they board the train.

"These are Hollywood Italians," explained my uncle. "There wasn't a lot of singing or laughing then. There was still lots to be scared of."

The guides in the museum all buzz around my uncle when we explain he is here celebrating his 50th anniversary. They all want his opinion on the displays and to hear his stories. The resident historian is delighted to be able to scan into the computer Gaetano Rossi's passport and immigration papers. We entered a train simulation that features cabins where you can listen to immigrant stories or even record one of your own. My father, always a storyteller, goes into the booth to record a message. My uncle is too overcome with memories of those who have not survived to their 50th and the emotion of the day to record one himself.

Truth be told, he, like many of those who arrived at Pier 21, never intended to stay. He hoped to work for a few years, save a bit of money, and go back to his home country. He passed that final judgment at Pier 21 and boarded a train that would take 40 hours to deliver him to a farm in Ajax, Ontario. He was among a handful of men who were the first to come to Canada from the small village of Anzano di Puglia in southern Italy. Despite the hardships, he endured and grew to love his new home and to build a family and a life here. He was the one who encouraged and sponsored others to come to Canada including my father.

Today there are over 350 people in the Greater Toronto area of Anzanese descent who can thank my uncle for, directly or indirectly, their being here. Countless others who are touched by those 350 labourers, teachers, lawyers, professors, pharmacists, entrepreneurs, students, fellow citizens and exceptionally cute babies all owe him a debt of gratitude. We came to celebrate his 50th anniversary, but my uncle came, in his best slacks and blazer to meet the spirit of the immigration official who judged him. He came to show that the official had judged wisely, that the young immigrant boy had done well and had contributed significantly to Canada.