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Albert was ill prepared for the journey. He failed to bring any necessary items such as toiletries, towels, or bedding, and without a bowl, plate, or pan he had no way to eat the ship’s meals. So he remained in his hammock deep in the ship, among the 600 others in steerage. “There I lay stupefied, benumbed, absolutely paralyzed from breathing this polluted, nauseating atmosphere,” Albert said. Fortunately, several Italian women took pity on him and made sure he got sustenance. On July 20, 1867, Albert reached New York, but he was soon stranded by youth and inexperience. To ward off the July heat, he impetuously consumed flavored ices. “My $20.00 capital was melting away nearly as fast as the ice-cream which I enjoyed so hugely,” he said. “Thus I was fain to obey the call of my elder and only surviving brother, Joseph.”

After a separation of three years, the two were reunited in St. Louis. Now, Albert stood as tall as Joseph, at more than six feet, and was very slender, but without his older brother’s awkward angularity. That they were brothers was undeniable. They had the same thick curly hair, high forehead, and blue eyes, but Albert’s face was more balanced, with a less pronounced nose. He was the handsomer of the pair.

Although the reunion was warm, the practicalities of life rapidly took center stage. Albert needed a job and his own place to live. Joseph’s small room was not intended for two. Each day Albert went out and tried to find work, even going from house to house. “My inquiries always resulted either in a negative reply or, what was still more hopeless, in no reply whatsoever,” he said. Albert was not alone in his bad luck. The city was filled with job seekers. Joseph showed no sympathy. After all, he had found work when he came to St. Louis two years earlier. Each morning he asked if his brother had obtained a job yet. “This query being repeated daily, irritated, upset me,” said Albert. “I became restless, peevish, fretful.” One evening the pair got into a heated argument over Albert’s inability to secure work. Joseph, as was his habit, vented his anger with an outburst of sarcasm. He flippantly said that if things were to go on as they were, Albert might as well make an end of it by shooting himself.

“Excellent advice,” replied Albert grabbing the revolver his brother kept in the room and putting the barrel to his mouth.

“Not here!” yelled Joseph.

No, thought Albert. “It would not do to have a coroner’s inquest in this very room. I desisted.”

Albert redoubled his efforts but still had no luck. The two brothers continued to share Joseph’s cramped room, and life was glum. Again, the issue came to a head.

“If you do not desire me to stay here any longer, just say the word ‘go’ and I shall go,” said Albert.

“Go,” replied Joseph, in a tone that sounded to Albert as “though he really did not mean for me to go but was curious to know whether I was plucky enough to carry out my own menace.” So, in the dead of the night, Albert left. It was a gesture characteristic of the impulsive nature the two brothers shared, especially in decision making. Albert wandered aimlessly until he came to a park and a bench on which to sleep. “But my slumber did not last long.” A policeman woke him and told him he could be arrested for sleeping on a bench. Albert spent the rest of the night dozing on and off, keeping watch for any approaching police officers.

After spending yet another futile day searching for work, Albert returned for the night to his bench. At last, the next day he obtained a position as a door-to-door salesman for Die Gartenlaube, an immensely popular illustrated family newspaper featuring articles about culture, art, history, and science, as well as short stories, serialized novels, poetry, and puzzles. With his earnings, he secured a small room in a boardinghouse.

Settled at last, Albert made learning English a priority. Before leaving Hungary he had engaged an inexpensive English tutor, one so inept that Albert remained clueless as to how the language was