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When my great-great-grandfather, Martin O’Savage, immigrated to this country from Ireland so that he could find a better way of life, he had a rude awakening. He discovered the term The Irish need not apply. Trying to earn a living in the 1870s was difficult enough, but being discriminated when trying to find employment almost caused him to starve to death. Back in those days, the only thing worse than being Irish was to be Black, Jewish, or Asian. There was no affirmative action, fair hiring practices, or anti-discrimination laws. An employer could hire whomever the hell he wanted and if he didn’t like the color of your skin, ethnic origin, or religious beliefs, he could tell you to take a hike and there was nothing that you could do about it. It was always the same wherever he went to apply for a job that paid a decent wage. “Excuse me, sair. I hear ye be looking fer a few good men.” “What’s your name?” “O’Savage, sair.” “Get the hell out of here, you shanty Irish bastard.” While drowning his sorrows over a mug of beer at a local tavern, he met a fellow native named Patrick who was sympathetic to Martin’s plight. He offered some useful advice. “Ye doing it all wrong, lad. Ye can’t let on right away that you’re Irish. If’n they don’t ask wherein you come from, then don’t tell. By the time they figure it out, they’ll be seein’ ye a fine worker and they won’t give a rat’s arse by then.” “But I don’t want to lie,” Martin replied. “And I never told them that I be Irish. They know rit away.” “Ye don’t have ta tell ‘em, lad. Ye name gives ye away.” Patrick explained that it was a sure tip off when your last name begins with O’ or Mc. He suggested that Martin drop the ‘O’ from O’Savage and just use Savage and then everyone would think that the name was English. Patrick explained that Martin was giving the native-born Americans too much credit and that they weren’t any smarter than the immigrants that got off the boat. With nothing else to lose, Martin decided to give it a go as he heard that a company was hiring and he immediately went to see the foreman. “Pardon me, sair,” Martin said with an Irish accent so thick that it could be cut with a knife. “I be hearin’ that ye need a few good men to work the docks.” “That’s right,” answered the foreman. “What’s your name?” “Savage, sair.” “Savage… huh?” The foreman rubbed his chin. “Is that English?” “Tis’, sair.” Martin wasn’t lying. Savage was an English name and he had English blood on his mother’s side, so technically, he was English. The foreman never asked if he was “mostly English” and there was no law that said a man couldn’t change his last name. Immigrant did it all the time… mostly not by choice as the officials on Ellis Island wrote down whatever name was easiest to spell. A man named Jose Rivera easily became Joe Rivers. “Okay, Savage,” said the foreman. “You look like you’re young and fit enough to handle the work. Be here tomorrow… 8AM… Sharp.” And the rest is history… otherwise I’d be Scot O’Savage. How did you like this text? You have to be logged on to be able to rate and comment. Logon or Register , it won't take up more than 10 seconds of your time. Rating  Current rating is: 5 4 readers have rated this text Author's description An exagerrated piece of family history Comments L. Alan Meyer, 24 August 2007: A great story for the pubs where I am a/k/a "Al". Whenever I am asked about the "L", I never lie. I tell them that it is my first initial! criss walker, 12 August 2007: Don’t look at the papers, lad. They’ve been written by men. You’re Scot O’Savage whether they like it or not. Its hard NOT being able to enjoy the friendship of an Irish person. They’re just too energizing. sara khan, 12 August 2007: Now, that is a story you don’t want to finish reading. Loved it. Tomás Ó Cárthaigh, 8 August 2007: I never heard of O’Savage as a name, but you learn something new everyday. It would be cool to take it back... your intiails would be SOS - very good for the locksmithing business. I have a friend Seamus Herffernan... I told him he should set up an IT business. He was flattered until he realised what it spelt. In comedy Del Boys "Trotter Independent Trading" also had a rude spelling!!! Ah, the joy of names!!! |
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