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appreciation for Abraham Lincoln and the Constitution. During a meeting with his fellow countrymen, he proposed that the people of France should send America a gift, a symbol of their newly cemented ideology of freedom and democracy. He hoped the gesture wouldn't be lost on the people of France and that they too might embrace democracy. It took some time before France approved his suggestion. In September of eighteen seventy five, Edward announced his idea had become a reality, with the

French public financing the project. Sculptor Frederic August Bortoldi would create a magnificent bronze statue representing America Project Liberty Enlightening the World had commenced. In eighty three, Emma Lazarus wrote the poem The New Colossus to raise money from the American public for the statue of Liberty's pedestal. To this day, one line stands out perhaps the most. Give me. You're tired,

your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free. The Roman goddess Libertas served as the model for the neo classical sculpture torch held high in one hand, the other would hold a tablet in Roman numerals for July four, seventeen seven d six. After another eleven years, the project was finished. On October eighteen eighty six. President Grover Cleveland watched as bands from all over America took part in a parade for the statues dedication. Later that evening, the

torch was lit, shining over New York Harbor. While America had seemingly united, the rest of the world struggled with their own internal wars, revolutions, and upheavals. Seeing the New World as a safe haven, citizens across Europe began to flee their homelands. Many saw America as a place to rebuild their shattered lives. As letters returned home with tales of opportunities for a better life, more people left their homelands and made their way to New York's Ellis Island.

The first immigrant to pass through the station was seventeen year old Annie Moore from Cork, Ireland. She and her two brothers were among the seven hundred people who arrived on the station's opening day, January first, eight nine two. By the year's end, the station had processed over four hundred thousand immigrants. From eighteen ninety two to nineteen twenty four, it's estimated that over twelve million immigrants arrived at Alis Island.

In an attempt to keep up with the flow, the state built a medical facility to house the sick and the quarantine. Those who passed a physical were sent to stand in processing lines. While most were accepted, about one percent of all immigrants failed health exams or didn't have the appropriate paperwork and were deported. And there are countless success stories from those who have sailed past the Statue

of Liberty and made it through Ellis Island. Bob Hope, Charlie Chaplin, Albert Einstein, carry Grant Houdini, and my own great grandparents, among others. While Edward's original message had been for freedom and liberty, the statue became a symbol to all who sailed on immigrant ships. She became the official greeter, a welcoming mother image to all. Lazarus's famous poem quickly became synonymous with immigration. Though established immigrants sometimes met incoming family,

others were on their own. Upon his arrival, one lone immigrants stared at Lady Liberty moved to tears as though he were talking to a person. He stood on the deck of his ship and pulled Liberty. How beautiful she was for welcoming so many foreigners with open arms. As the ship continued past, he asked for just one thing, the opportunity to prove himself worthy, to do good and be someone in America. To him and others who no longer felt welcome or safe in their homelands, Liberty became

the mother of exiles. America gave them a fresh start a new life, and for many it was. For some, though the sight of Lady Liberty would be the last welcome they'd receive. I'm Lauren Vogelbaum, Welcome to American shadows. He never talked about why had been sent to America when he turned thirteen. The practice wasn't uncommon, though, parents often sent their children to America in hopes for a better life. For Georgio so Do and his older brother,

poverty in Sardinia, Italy was likely to blame. In eight he and his brother arrived at Alice Island. It was an error known as the Great Arrival, the term used to describe the influx of Italian immigrants. From eighteen seventy six to nineteen twenty three million left Italy due to war, poverty, violence, disease, and natural disasters. The new government in Sicily had no means to give aid to their people. Word traveled to the region of American prosperity, and labor recruiters promised work.

Some left Italy only to return later. For them, the American dream had been anything but the cost of transatlantic travel had become more affordable, but for many families that only managed to save enough to buy one or two tickets, separating some families forever. The so Do brothers traveled in the steerage class, the poorest section of the ship. First class passengers weren't subjected to the inspection required of second

and steerage class. As they could afford a first class ticket, they were seen as less of a financial and health risk, though any ill or sick passenger was sent for further inspection or quarantine. The conditions in the steerage class were crowded and unsanitary. These passengers were subjected to a more thorough inspection to prevent spreading contagious disease, though doctors sometimes

spent as little as six seconds on any given individual. Afterward, the passenger's paperwork was inspected for one reason or another. Georgio was cleared, but his brother boarded a ship heading back to Italy, leaving his younger brother alone in a new country. Sadly, he never heard from his brother or his family again. At a young age, Georgio was on his own. He found work carrying supplies and water to railroad workers. When he was old enough to drive, he

took a job as a driver in West Virginia. Sadly, many saw Italians as lazy, unethical, and as cheap labor. Georgio proved otherwise. He worked tirelessly, was exceptionally smart and highly ambitious. Eventually he changed his name to George Sodder to become more Americanized. His hard work paid off after a few years, and he started his own trucking company, hauling dirt, eight and cole. After one long day of driving, George happened to walk into a local store called the

Music Box. A young woman caught his eye. Jenny Cipriani, the shopkeeper's daughter, was also an Italian immigrant, having come over with her parents when she was just three years old. The two dated and soon wed. They settled down Fayetteville, West Virginia, in a two story frame home in a middle class neighborhood. Although not widely accepted due to their race and status as immigrants, the family found a home

among other Italian families in the area. The small Appalachian community was close knit, and the Solder family soon became one of the most respected in the area. George finally felt it achieved the American dream. A lovely partner, his own company, a nice home in a middle class neighborhood.

To add to their joy, they had a son, Joseph in Marian came after that in ninety eight, followed by John, George Junior, Maurice, Martha, Louis, Jenny, Betty, and finally Sylvia in Joseph had left home by the time the youngest of the Satter children were born, choosing to serve in the military during World War Two. The Sauters were proud

of their son's service to their new country. George had a strong dislike of Benito Mussolini, who not only had risen to power after a but had embraced Hitler's philosophies. Because of Mussolini and those who supported him, some Americans believed Italians in the U S were a threat to national security. The Italian American community had become accustomed to

threats and derovatory slurs. President Roosevelt signed executive orders allowing that enemy aliens suspected of terrorists or treasonous acts could be imprisoned, their homes or businesses ceased. They were forced to abide by a curfew from eight pm to six am, like the Japanese. After the bombing of Pearl Harbor, thousands of Italian Americans lost their homes and were either detained or deported. Other families endured government raids. No one of

Italian descent was safe. Even Joe DiMaggio's family experienced continual harassment and threats of arrest. George had witnessed discrimination soon after arriving at Ellis Island, but had hoped that over time things would get better. He had done everything possible to fit in and dispel stereotypes. To him, Mussolini was not only a monster, but had also set back any progress Italian Americans had made, and he remained quite vocally

opinionated about that. Finally, the curfew ended in the next year. Mussolini was removed from power and imprisoned, but German forces freed him. Mussolini served under Hitler, creating the Italian Social Republic, which led to the extermination of countless Jewish people living in the region. George wasn't shy about his immense dislike of Mussolini, a sentiment most of his fellow Italian immigrants shared. Some, however, showed fierce loyalty to their homeland's former prime minister, dividing

the once unified community. Even after Mussolini's execution in nineteen forty five, his staunch loyalists defended him, sometimes violently. In late October of nineteen forty five, a life insurance salesman solicited the Sodder household. George recognized the man as a Mussolini supporter and sent him on his way. As you might guess, the salesman didn't take the rejection well. In a fit of anger, the salesman told the Sodders that their house would catch fire. More ominously, though, he uttered

another warning, your children are going to be destroyed. You'll pay for dirty remarks you've been making about Mussolini. George watched the man storm away. He dismissed the threats as nothing more than pettiness. Like his fellow citizens had also become accustomed to harsh words and threats. Later, George would wish had taken the threat more seriously. Soon after the insurance salesman's visit, George found a man wandering around the backyard. The man claimed he was only looking for work, that

maybe he could haul coal. After learning there weren't any openings, the man pointed to the fuse boxes and said this is going to cause a fire someday. What a strange comment, George thought, as the man walked away. Just days before, he and Jenny had had a new stove installed and the power company checked all the wiring that assured them

everything was in perf picked working order. Odd occurrences like these tapered off by the beginning of December, but just before Christmas, John and George Junior saw a man they didn't know sitting in a car they didn't recognize off of Highway twenty one near the school. They might not have paid him too much attention, except that he seemed intently focused on their younger siblings. But the men didn't get out of the car and he didn't follow them home,

so the boys let the matter go. The family had forgotten about the threats. On Christmas Eve, they sat down to a special dinner later that evening. The younger children, excited by the tree lights and presents, begged to open just one gift. After each child opened a present, the younger children were sent to bed, while Marian helped with the dishes. Maurice and nine year old Lewis put the cows in and fed the chickens. Once all the children had gone to bed, George and Jenny set out the

rest to the presence and called night. An hour or so later, a ringing phone woke Jenny from a sound sleep just after midnight. Worried it might be news about their eldest son, still away in the army, she hurried to the kitchen to answer. A woman on the other end asked for someone Jenny didn't know. In the background,

china and glasses clinked and people laughed. Wrong number, Jenny said, and she hung up, relieved the caller had been a dinner guest somewhere and not the army calling with bad news. She was walking back to the bedroom when she noticed several lights were still on. Thinking one of them had forgotten to turn the lights out amid the celebration, she turned them off. As she reached the foot of the stairs, she noticed the curtains were open and the front door

was unlocked. She breathed a sigh of relief that they lived in such a small, close knit community, locked the door, closed the curtains, and went back to bed. No sooner had she drifted to sleep than a loud bang woke her, followed by the sound of something rolling from the roof. She listened for a while in the dark, finally thinking should imagine the whole thing, She drifted back to sleep once more. An hour later, she awoke to a strong

acrid smell and turned on the light. Ribbons of smoke swirled in from under the bedroom door, rising in dark gray wisps. She jumped out of bed, yelling fire. George scrambled out of bed. They had to warn the children. He threw the door open, only to find dense smoke had filled the hallway. Coughing, he shouted for the children to get out of the house. Doors flew open, shouts, and the echo of the children's footsteps filled the air.

Jenny raced to little Sylvia's room, snatching the child from her bed, and hurried downstairs to get the baby out of the smoke. Marian and the two boys stood on the front lawn. George and Jenny changed panicked glances. Five children were still in the burning house. George tried to re enter through the front door. Flames had overtaken the stairwell. He shouted for the children, but none answered. Remembering the ladder at the side of the house, he raced around

the corner to find it gone. A search of the back of the home on the other side turned up empty. The trucks he used to hull coal caught his eye. He had drive one of them around to the side of the house, stand on top, break the window and called to the children there. He raced back into the house through the kitchen, grabbed the keys, and jumped into one of the trucks. Though he tried several times, it wouldn't start. The frantic he tried the second truck, which

also refused to start. Jenny went inside to try calling the fire department. The phone line was dead. Marion ran next door to call from there, but their phone line was also dead. The neighbor got in their car and sped to the nearest open tavern to call the fire chief. The two boys thought of the rain barrels, but the water had frozen. Horrified, the family clung together and cried.

They were helpless to do anything to save Betty, Martha, Maurice Lewis, and little Jenny, who remained trapped somewhere inside. For forty five minutes. That early Christmas morning, the family stood outside, barefoot and coatless, watching their home burn, the fire department still nowhere in sight. Flames lapped at the house, burning through beams and posts, leaving nothing but charred timbers until the roof buckled and caved in. The house collapsed,

and with it the sadders. That Christmas morning, five of their children were dead. At least that's what George and Jenny thought. By eight o'clock morning, the Solder home had been reduced to smoldering rubble and hot ash, and that's when the fire department showed up. We can't speak for George or Jenny, but we can only imagine the verbal exchange between them and the fire chief, One F. J. Morris. What we do know is that the chief claimed he

had no idea how to drive the fire truck. He had been the chief for eight years and he wasn't the only firefighter on the force. Morris claimed he had called the other men and not one of them had responded until the morning. He told the grieving parents that it was a holiday Christmas after all. The fireman set to work posing down embers and began the search, if anyone could call it that for human remains. It was cursory at best. I suppose they didn't expect to find

any survivors. Around ten am, Morris told the Sadders that they hadn't found any remain means, and he expected that the intensity of the fire had cremated their children. As the fireman packed up the trucks, he informed the Sawders to leave everything as it was. The fire Marshal would want to take a look. Five days later, when no one had showed up, George bulldozed the site. Neither he nor Jenny could look at it anymore. Jenny wanted a flower garden a memorial to her children, and he intended

to give it to her. Investigators arrived days later, and, after briefly questioning the family and neighbors, determined faulty wiring was to blame. The local paper ran the story, first claiming the bodies had been found, then contradicting themselves and saying that no remains had been found. After all, the sawders were too grief stricken to notice the stories even without a trace of remains. The death certificates for the five children came in on decemb January second nine. A

service was held for the children and life continued. People paid their respects. A bus driver told Jenny that had seen something resembling fireballs landing on the roof of their house that night. Jenny recalled the banging noise and the

sound of something rolling off the roof. Another woman claimed to have seen five children ride past her in a car that night, and even stranger, a waitress and a diner fifty miles away said she'd served breakfast to five kids that morning, but couldn't recall if it was two adults or four with them. Jenny told George about the sounds, and their sons told them about the strange man in the car who had been watching the younger children that

day before Christmas. The Sauders started asking questions, especially why no one had found a single bone. After that night, the paper reported another fire where ellatons were found. The Sawders went to a nearby prematorium to ask why remains hadn't been found when their house had burned. The owner assured them that for the children to have been cremated, the heat inside would have had to have been a

lot hotter than any house fire. Curious, Jenny experimented with chicken bones, burning them in an oven to determine if they had become ash within the forty five minutes it had taken their house to burn. Even at the highest temperature, the bones remained. More people reported seeing the children. A woman spotted them at a hotel in South Carolina with four adults. The Sawders went back to the chief of police and the fire department, demanding answers and a reopening

of the investigation. Both refused. It didn't make sense to them. If there had been faulty wiring, why had the man installing the oven claimed everything was working perfectly. Of course, there was that man in the backyard that day and the threat from the insurance sales men. A telephone repairman told George the phone lines had been cut before the fire started. Jenny recalled the odd wrong number, and there were too many coincidences, too many odd things that didn't

add up. And that was before the latter showed up miles away in a ditch. One of their daughters found an odd green ball of sorts in the backyard. George thought it might be some sort of bomb. Getting no help from local authorities, George wrote to the FBI. J Edgar Hoover wrote them personally, stating that he had send agents to assist, but needed permission from the Fayetteville Police first. Oddly,

the chief refused. The Sauders knew something was wrong. What had happened to their children if they hadn't died in the fire. George recalled shouting for them, and not one of them had answered. Since the police wouldn't help, they hired a private investigator, One C. C. Tinsley. The more

digging the investigator did, the more oddities he uncovered. The insurance salesman who had threatened George, a man named Russer Long, had also served as a juryman on the fire inquest panel, and perhaps oddest of all, fire Chief Morris claimed to not only have found a heart among the ashes, but that had also put it in a metal box and buried it. Apparently, the chief confessed to the local minister,

who confirmed the story. Confronted with the information and a very angry father, the fire chief agreed to show them where he had buried the box. After recovering the box and looking inside, a mortician inspected the contents. He determined it was a beef liver, not a heart, not human, and it certainly hadn't been in any fire. George began to rethink the night that the salesman Long had threatened him. Despite telling the lease no one had followed up on

the lead, and then Long participated in the inquest. But the more the Sauters thought about it, the more they believed the Mussolini supporting salesman hadn't acted alone. Tinsley learned that fire Chief Morris had worked as a bookkeeper for Fiorenzo John U Tolo, who had co signed a loan for George's trucking company. Equally suspicious, John U Tolo received a small payout from an insurance company after the fire, and there was another man on the jury who had

been a suspect. Johnny Tolo's cousin Tinsley, found one more thing that the men had ties to the mafia. He suggested that the fire could have been started for any number of reasons, revenge, insurance money, or George's blatant dislike of Mussolini, but none of it answered the biggest question of all, what had happened to their children. Reports of sightings states away continued to pour in. George and Jenny began to really think their children hadn't died that night

in the fire. Instead, someone had taken them and the fire had been a cover up. To Jenny, too many things pointed to kidnapping. They had learned it took a fire hotter than two thousand degrees to cremate a body. The older boys had seen a man watching the younger children. A woman saw five kids in the back of a car the night of the fire. The waitress who had served them breakfast were called one more detail Florida tacks,

and there were more red flags. The woman at the hotel reported that the two adult couples with the children were also of Italian descent. When she had tried to talk to the children, the men became angry and began speaking loudly in Italian. Despite the sightings and the information Tinsley collected, the local officials determined the case closed. George and Jenny hired pathologist Oscar Hunter in the summer of nineteen forty nine. Upon excavation of the area, he uncovered

a charred dictionary, coins, and a few bones. Hunter sent the fragments to the Smithsonian for testing. The bones were human, belonging to just one individual. They determined the age of the deceased to be between sixteen and seventeen years. That ruled out any of the missing soldered children. The report also concluded that the fragments had never been in a fire.

In the end, Hunter determined that when George bulldozed the site, the earth had pushed over the area already contained the fragments. No one knows where the other bones originated from, though he suspected the nearby cemetery years later, a letter arrived stating that Martha had been spotted in a convent in St. Louis. A woman in New York sent the cover of a ballet magazine showing a young girl who looked exactly like Betty. When George trapped down the parents, they refused to allow

him to see the girl. The Sawders never gave up. Without anything more to go on, they paid for a billboard on Root sixteen in West Virginia, with the children's photos and the offer of a cash reward. The billboard read, after thirty years, it is not too late to investigate. George Solder died in nineteen sixty nine. Jenny continued to live in the home they rebuilt on the property. She tended to the memorial garden for the rest of her life. When she passed away in nine the family finally took

down the billboard. Except for John, every one of the Sadder children believed that their siblings survived that night, possibly even taken to Italy. The truth of what happened, though, remains a mystery, and after all this time, it's clear that while the children disappeared, something else took their place. Questions there's more to this story stick around after this

brief sponsor break to hear all about it. His last childhood memory of his homeland was watching the house he had shared with his parents and seven siblings burned to the ground. The fire hadn't been accidental, no, it had been deliberately set in the families specifically targeted. You see, Israel known simply as Izzy, and his family lived in Russia during a dangerous time, the persecution and slaughter of

Jewish people living in the country. Like many other Jewish families, the Bailin's had been apt intensely poor, often without proper food or heating for their meager home with a dirt floor. Two children had died from pneumonia. Now homeless, Moses and Leah knew that if they stayed, they risked their lives and those of their remaining children. They had escaped a fire designed to kill them, after all, But for the family,

there was only one place to go, America. With a family of seven, and given they had fled with the clothes on their backs, the Balin's likely could only afford steering class. While the conditions weren't great, it wasn't too different from the conditions they had been forced to live in back in Russia. With papers in hands, they boarded the Red Star Line from Antwerp and on September four

passed Lady Liberty en route to Ellis Island. Izzy and his siblings caught a cold during the trip and were kept at Ellis until doctors determined that they weren't contagious with something more nefarious. After a few days, they joined their parents in New York City, a place Izzie would live for the rest of his life. Putting the horrors of Russia behind them. America became their homeland and they

changed their surname to Balin. Moses found a job in a kosher meat market and supplemented the family income by giving Hebrew lessons. The family moved into a three room tenement on Cherry Street. The children went to school, and life was good for the next eight years. Sadly, when Izzie was just thirteen, his father died of a heart attack. With their income gone, Izzie's mother became a midwife. The children left school and went to work. His sisters wrapped

cigars while his brother labored in a clothing sweatshop. Izzie earned money selling papers on street corners for five cents a day. Each night, the children deposited their day's pay into their mother's apron before sitting down to eat. No matter the whether, Izzie stood on the corner selling papers, he didn't entirely mind. He had fallen for the sounds of the street musicians. Seeing people toss coins into the hats at their feet, Izzie began to sing some of

those songs, which sold more papers. One evening, he confided to his mother that one day he knew he'd be a singing waiter in a New York saloon. Despite the extra income from singing, Izzie made the least amount of money of the family. Feeling worthless, he ran away, joining other young emigrants living in the Bowery. The conditions were deplorable. Without formal education or meaningful skills, Izzie sang to passers by for money. He learned which types of songs people

loved the most. Discovering lyrics with simple sentiments paid better. By eighteen, he achieved his goal. As a singing waiter at the Pelham Cafe. He improved famous song is, often changing the words in tune, earning him praise and applause from his customers. In the evenings, he taught himself to play the bar's piano by ear he had no idea

how to read sheet music. Together with the saloon's pianist, he wrote a song for which he earned thirty seven cents in royalties, the publisher crediting him as the writer spelled his name wrong. The misspelling and low earnings didn't phase him. He continued to alter songs and write new ones. One night, he altered the rhythm of a popular tune, and the entire saloon applauded wildly. By the time he turned twenty, Izzie took a better paying job as a

singing waiter at a saloon and Union Square. From there, he landed a job with a production company in nineteen eleven. He became an instant celebrity on Tin Pan Alley and Broadway. His performances often brought in hundreds of fans. The crowds humbled him, and Izzie's sometimes cried tears of joy as he sang. She went on to write the song Alexander's Ragtime Band, which became an international success. Even Izzy was

taken aback by the dance craze. His song inspired over the years, musical greats like Bing Crosby, Johnny Mercer and Louis Armstrong also reached the top of the charts with the tune. By nineteen twelve, izz He became so successful that he wrote a musical and a new song. Variety magazine gave the show blowing reviews, and izz He found instant success of a different sort. Even back in Russia,

people danced to his songs. He wrote his first ballad when his wife of just six months died after contracting typhoid during their honeymoon in Havana. The song sold over a million copies. When World War One started, is he wrote several patriotic songs to honor those in service. In nineteen seventeen, he was drafted. While serving in the army, he wrote another musical and one more song, though he

wouldn't release it for twenty more years. He remarried in nineteen five, and it would be a love affair that lasted a lifetime. The couple welcomed their first daughter in nineteen twenty six, and Izzie wrote a song about fatherhood. It became an instant hit, and fifty two years later, in nineteen seventy eight, Willie Nelson's version made it to the top of the charts once more, never losing his love of America is He wrote songs for the Red

Cross and the United States Treasury. During World War Two, he wrote another patriotic play that Hollywood adapted to film in nineteen forty three, starring future President Ronald Reagan. He retired in the nineteen sixties, though he kept in the public eye. His beloved wife died in ninety eight, and Izz he never remarried. He lived to the wonderful age of a hundred and one. His songs and style remain

iconic well after his death. Every Christmas, millions watch Bing Crosby and Companies saying White Christmas, a tune Izzy wrote. All told, he wrote fifteen movie scripts, twenty Broadway shows, and one thousand, five hundred songs. By now you might guess he wasn't only known as Izzy. That misspelling on his first published song ended up following him for the rest of his life. He was no other than Irving Berlin.

On Irving's one birthday, Walter Cronkite said Berlin had helped write the story of this country, capturing the best of who we are and the dreams that shape our lives. One more thing the song Irving Berlin wrote during World War One that didn't surface for twenty years. His daughter said her father's love of a country that welcomed him had moved him to write it, and that song God

Bless America. American Shadows is hosted by Lauren Vogelbaum. This episode was written by Michelle Muto, researched by Ali Steed, and produced by Miranda Hawkins and Trevor Young, with executive producers Aaron Mankey, Alex Williams, and Matt Frederick. To learn more about the show, visit Grim and Mild dot com. From more podcasts from iHeart Radio, visit the iHeart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts