Item - February 13, 1921 - Letter from Fred Michaluk to Thomas Gushul

• English
• Ukrainian

New York
February 13th, 1921

Dear Comrade Gushul,
I am writing this letter to You almost in tears. Such is my destiny that I used to be poor and so will be henceforth, and there is no hope for something good. It is as if I ran mad nowadays; I’ve spent every cent I had, and got into the debts up to my neck—and do what you wish, since it is a free country. Comrade Gushul, I am currently in such a bad place that it is hard to climb out of it.

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The two of us are fighting, and there are more things like that, and nothing is dear to me anymore. When I have left here, everybody told me not to go, yet I did not listen to that—I just was heading to You like we wrote to each other about our future. Yet my current views are such and hatred is so powerful that it is better for me not to live any longer, since my thoughts have brought me into such a state that there is only noise in my head

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like inside some boiler. I got married, spent all my wife’s money, plus I borrowed a lot, got into an abyss—and now we only fight and there is hatred between us. We had to separate; when I was not yet married we used to talk on various topics, and now it is different from how it was said. So, I ended up being some kind of a vagrant and traitor. Nobody loves me anymore, just various thoughts move around in my head like

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a fog in the fall. Before my departure, I went to the Canadian office here and asked if I needed a passport. They said that I would cross the border without any problems. Yet it is not what happened. Not far from the border, the Canadian bloodsucker started asking both of us where we were heading. I said that I was going to Canada, that I have my properties together with you, and that’s why I am returning. I also said why I came to America and for how long,

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yet nothing helped. He wanted to see the proof of how I’ve entered America, if I paid a duty when crossing the border, and more documents like that. I told him that I crossed the border in Windsor, near Detroit, and paid a duty of eight dollars, but I’ve lost those papers, i.e. the proof that I paid the duty. But none of that helped. He told me that I would not be able to get into

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Canada till I get a passport from Ottawa, regardless of who would be my guarantor—nothing would help me. I would have to wait for at least three weeks for the passport, and I do not know if I would even have gotten it. When we arrived to Emerson he threw our luggage off and told us to get off the train, and put us behind the bars, and the next morning we would have to go back

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across the border. We both begged him to let us stay for at least a day, so that I could find out something from You. He said that we could stay for one day but no longer. So, I sent a telegram to You, and the next morning I got Your reply, as well as Dixon’s from Michel. I sent a telegram to him, too. He looked at telegrams and said that I do not have any chances, and I had to get out. I would have stayed across the border but I did not have enough money.

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Besides, he clearly told me that we would be hard to find. He also paid for our ticket to Saint Paul, and I then had to pay from Saint Paul back to New York. If I would have stayed for one more day then I would not get a paid ticket to Saint Paul, and would have had to pay for it myself. And if I would have paid for it myself then I would not have enough money, and because of that I did not want to take a chance,

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since I had to describe all my story of how I got to America and such. I could even get behind the bars for several months for, you know, how I crossed the border. When a man is in trouble then every little devil jumps on his back—that’s exactly how it was with me. Now I have to forget about Canada, since I do not have a cent but so many debts that it is hard to pay them off.

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I do not know how I should get out of this, since the times are bad now, plus I am a married man, so there is deep misfortune ahead. I am lucky that I did not buy a ticket all the way to Coleman, for then I would just have perished. I only paid for a ticket to Winnipeg, and that cost me $137 and 84 cents. And from Saint Paul to New York cost me $101 and 40 cents. I had to starve on my way, since there was not a cent left.

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Those trips cost me over 250 dollars. The photographic stuff cost 202 dollars. And I’ve gotten myself into such a situation that I don’t know what I am going to do, and how to pay off those debts. Then again, I have neither a house, nor a job, nor money—all what is left is to take my life. I know that You also wasted money for nothing, but what can be done? My hair is turning grey thinking about it and the devil knows how to overcome such a calamity.

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There is no way I can return to Canada, since I have no money. Then again, my wife will not go with me again, since everybody says that it is bad over there, and it is the best to stay over here, and such. Maybe I would have earned a bit and had a different life but now I have to bow to each devil just like it used to be. I have spent all my money for the photography school, and now I would like to find a job as low as washing plates in a restaurant, for there is no other option left.

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If you meet Andreichuk then read him my letter to let him know how I am doing now. He will also be sad, since I owe him a lot of money. I also owe a hundred dollars to M. Andriitsev, and I do not know where he is now, since he wrote to me that he was leaving for Russia. Maybe he wrote to You from Detroit, since I wrote to him last month that I was going to You and that would be my permanent address. If he left for Russia

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then it must have been on the 28th of January. Please, Comrade Gushul, write something about Yourself and also advise me something, since I am in a bad situation and I feel bad, and You see what road I am left on.
Now I have to look for some job to sell myself, otherwise I will have to

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perish in the democratic country. Would I not have married then damn it, I do not care about myself. But you know, a man is not alone, and I need to do my best, since I can’t keep living like a beggar.
Please write something about yourself so that it would cheer me up, for

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I do not have many friends who could advise me something better.
So, I will finish this letter and wait for some news from You as soon as possible.
We both wish to all of You a better life than we both are having now. Good-bye.
Michaluk.

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