Commemorating the 70th anniversary of the Maltese women and children who arrived in Canada to join the men who had emigrated in May and June 1948

The Sunday Times of Malta’s June 17, 2018, edition contained an account of the men who went to Canada in May and June 1948 to seek a new beginning. They were, for the most part, the first post-war arrivals from Malta.

A newspaper clipping of the Times of Malta reporting the departure of the group of migrants on October 5, 1948. Seen on the left is five-year-old Rina Ruggier.

In the summer of 1948, they were adjusting to life in their new surroundings. Maple trees had replaced the familiar palm trees. The abundance of grass was a source of amazement. Traffic lights, trains and even the fauna such as squirrels, raccoons and skunks fascinated them. The larger buildings, many of frame construction, were in sharp contrast to the limestone buildings of their homeland. Baseball was a confusing game, but at least there was football (soccer) in some of the larger cities, such as Toronto and London. Another novelty was the ubiquitous soft drink advertisements. A few months later there would be the cold weather, heavy snowfalls and piles of snow remaining for months.

At least the cars were familiar, as most of the cars in Malta at the time were of American design, with a sprinkling of British vehicles.

 Many were family men and, while they liked their new home, they missed their wives and children and where looking forward to the day when accommodation could be found for them.

In October 1948, John Cole, Malta’s minister of emigration and labour, and his colleague John Axisa, director of emigration, were on a fact-finding tour of Canada, the US and Australia. While in London, Ontario, Canada, on October 12, 1948, Cole addressed 40 of the Maltese emigrants and declared: “I urge you to be patient and you will eventually have your families out here with you.”

For at least four of the men who had arrived in London in June, the dream of being reunited with their loved ones had already become a reality. For many others, their families were already making the Atlantic crossing.

 On September 4, four wives and three children were among the 37 passengers who left the Grand Harbour on board the ship Transylvania. They arrived in Marseille on September 9. The next day they were in Paris. On crossing the English Channel, they spent a few days in a hotel near Trafalgar Square in London before being flown on board a four-propeller plane – Flight 2201 – landing at Dorval Airport, Quebec, Canada, on September 15. The flight had taken 16 hours.

Many were family men and, while they liked their new home, they missed their wives and children

For emigrants from Malta to be flown to Canada at this early period was most unusual. After landing at Dorval Airport, these seven immigrants travelled by train to London, Ontario, to be reunited with their husbands and fathers. Then, less than three weeks later, just after dawn on Monday, October 4, 1948, the Yugoslavian ship, the Radnik, entered Grand Harbour. Already, the Customs wharf was thronged with hundreds of prospective passengers, their families and friends. A little after 7am, the passengers, mainly women and children bound for Canada to be reunited with their husbands and fathers, bade a hurried last farewell to family and friends and started entering the Customs House. Women with very young children were permitted to take an unlimited supply of tinned milk with them.

Flight 2201 after having just landed at Dorval Airport, Canada, on September 15, 1948.

After passing through the passport office the emigrants gathered on the quay and waited. It was two hours later before they began embarking on the Radnik, which was berthed off the Customs Wharf and the fish market. Then came an even longer wait as the vessel did not leave the harbour until about 8pm, more than 12 hours after the embarkation process had begun.

After leaving Malta the Radnik made a stop in Marseille where a number of other passengers were picked up, including some Jewish orphan children of the Holocaust, accompanied by two elderly gentlemen en route to New York. Leaving there on October 7, the ship stopped at Gibraltar before entering the Atlantic Ocean. Many of the women and children became seasick on the rough sea.

One emigrant, a seven-year-old girl at the time, later recalled eating meals at one long table. Another, a young boy at the time, remembered sleeping on the top of one of the three-tiered narrow bunks. His sister slept on the middle bunk and his mother on the lower.

Another woman, a child at the time, related that her family was near the kitchen where it was warmer and extra food could be obtained. One of the wives was later to say that the crew spoke little English and few of the passengers were fluent in the language either.

The Radnik finally entered New York Harbour on the morning of Saturday, October 23, 1948. The flags of Communist Yugoslavia were then lowered. Presumably, all pictures of Josef Stalin and Marshal Tito, as well as hammer and sickle insignias, were removed or covered as well.

When the ship docked in Brooklyn the previous June, a large number of dock workers refused to continue loading the vessel after seeing portraits of Stalin and Tito in the Radnik’s main lounge. The Cold War was in full swing. As one longshoreman said: “If it’s Joe’s stuff, let him come over and load it himself.”

Three of the little girls who were on board the Radnik, experiencing their first winter in London, Ontario.

The first stop was Ellis Island. There, a least one mother with her five children was fortunate enough to take leave of the ship, as the woman had cousins in New York City, and her husband had arranged to meet her in New York.

After leaving Ellis Island, the ship made its way to Smith Street Dock in Brooklyn where it was only to spend a few hours unloading cargo and the Jewish refugees before taking the Maltese emigrants destined for Canada on to Montreal. But while one woman was later to describe the trip over as “like a nightmare”, the nightmare was still far from over. After the ship docked it was locked down and, over the next few days, a thorough search was made on it by American authorities, including the FBI. Some of the passengers believed the authorities suspected that the Radnik carried contraband or black-market goods.

Some of the emigrants taking a dgħajsa to the Transylvania anchored in the Grand Harbour, on September 4, 1948.

According to the late Fr Lawrence Attard, however, during the crossing, the passengers had apparently been treated to an overdose of Communist propaganda. “The Americans got to know about this and were afraid that the migrants might be used as tools of Communist infiltration at a time when the Cold War was at its worst. For this reason, the Custom authorities refused permission of the passengers to land.”

Immigration officials also swarmed the Radnik. Meanwhile, food among the Maltese emigrants was getting low.

But word of the plight of these emigrants had gotten out to the Maltese community in New York City, several of whom had relatives on board. One woman is believed to have been allowed to leave the vessel temporarily in the custody of her American relatives. Relatives managed to smuggle one of the women off the ship for a while to visit and do some sightseeing while her children were cared for on board ship by others.

One of the men who arrived in Ontario, Canada, in June had made the trip to New York City where he had relatives. He visited his wife and children for a few hours on board ship, gave them some American and Canadian currency and then returned alone to Ontario’s Niagara Peninsula.

Joseph Edward Doublet contacted the port authorities and convinced them that the Maltese had nothing to do with Communists

While many Maltese living in the area came to the ship with food, and especially milk for the infants, the person who appears to have played the key role in the days that followed was Joseph Edward Doublet.

A native of Msida, Doublet had immigrated to the United States in 1920 and settled in New York City. There, the 19-year-old found work with the Pennsylvania Railroad. He remained with the Railroad the rest of his working life and “was to move quite high within the ranks”. As he did so, he worked to help his fellow countrymen and other immigrants. In the 1920s he found work for 215 Maltese. During the Great Depression, he helped more than 600 Maltese in finding work and helped them with food, clothing and accommodation.

When contacted by a customs guard as to the plight of the passengers on board the Radnik, Doublet left immediately for the ship, taking a medical doctor with him. “He then contacted the port authorities and convinced them that the Maltese had nothing to do with Communists. He also asked philanthropic societies to donate money, food, milk and toys.”

Eventually, instead of Maltese emigrants remaining on board ship until it finally was allowed to clear port and sail for Montreal, Doublet was able to order three large buses to transport those destined for Canada to a special train, at Penn Station. On, Friday, October 29, the train crossed over into Canada, by way of St Albans, Vermont, en route for Montreal. From there many of the passengers took different trains to once more be reunited with their husbands and fathers.

How many of the passengers on board the Radnik were actually Maltese? An English language newspaper in Malta at the time gave the number as 250. In doing a hand count of the passenger list submitted to American authorities, I arrived at a total of 230, two less than the number published in the New York Times of October 23, 1948. Of the 197 destined for Canada, there were 117 children under the age of 16, 63 women and only 17 men, namely males aged 16 and over.

Dan Brock, who is based in London, Ontario, Canada, is the editor of the newsletter of the Maltese-Canadian Club of London, Canada.

Mainly mothers and children waiting to board the Radnik, on October 4, 1948.