We made it to Berlin. It's hot and we're tired so explorations tomorrow. First, though, the terrific museum of German emigration in Bremerhaven, Das Deutsches Auswandererhaus. All of Mrs. C's great grandparents left through this port. Her great grandfather on her father's side, Juergen Kruse, came in 1858, well ahead of the millions that would follow later.
The journey begins dockside in Bremerhaven's harbor, apparently at night to make embarcation all the more frightening. It continues through steerage accommodations on a ship: cramped, without privacy or anything good to eat. Then into a second class dining room, which looks quite jolly by comparison.
Eventually we arrive at the new world - New York City. My wife's great grandparents got there far before the famous Ellis Island immigration center opened. They would have disembarked at Castle Gardens, now Castle Clinton in New York's Battery Park. (As would my Irish fore-bearers. Unfortunately, we know little about my mother's Polish family.)
Germans spread out across the country. My wife's family farm was outside of Bremen, Kansas, a hamlet of 45. Hanover, with 900 people, was a few miles further away.
The museum's journey ends, appropriately enough, in Manhattan's Grand Central Station. If we had waited around a little longer we could have caught a train to St. Louis.