The strength of our men is in their bodies. They labor and sweat to shape raw ores into the steel that builds skyscrapers. They are the Men of Steel.
Our strength is in our minds and hearts. We labor for nine months and sweat for years to shape our children
into strong, compassionate men and women. We are the Steel Matkas. In 1906, Maryanna Kompanski is walking the deck of the SS Merion, seeking a bit of early morning fresh air on the two-week crossing from Bremen to Philadelphia. At age 24, she has been labeled an old maid, a spinster, in her tiny town of Osiek Dolnoslakie. Her brother, Ignacy, has enticed her to come to America, to Chicago, where opportunities await a woman without a dowry. Suddenly, she is grabbed from behind and a burly hand is smashed against her mouth and nose. Someone else has been walking the deck; fresh air is the furthest thing from his mind.
Mathilda Lenz, orphaned at age nine with two younger brothers, had hired herself out for work, but only for people who would allow her to keep her brothers with her. She had kept them alive, learned five languages while laboring, and fallen hopelessly in love, only to have her fiancé killed in battle in a senseless war. Now, at age 24, she is a dolmetscher on the SS Merion, translating for the doctors who care for the 1,700 emigrants jammed into the Zwischendeck.
