The summer when Kittery aliens landed at the Town Office

In late June of 1940, 39 aliens officially called Kittery home. Some had dwelled among the town’s residents for more than 50 years, others for just a few weeks. When Governor Lewis E. Barrows signed an executive order requiring all non-citizen immigrants to register at their town office, these foreign nationals followed the rules and completed the forms, which were collected, compiled and then analyzed for statistical data by the the Adjutant General’s office.

At the time, the idea of an illegal or undocumented alien did not exist. In 1924, Congress had passed legislation imposing the country’s first-ever immigration quotas. These quotas favored immigrants from northern Europe, since one goal of the legislation was to curb the number of “undesirable” immigrants flooding the country from Italy, Greece and other southern European countries. But immigrants didn’t need papers or a green card; they pretty much just showed up. And the quotas did not apply to the thousands of migrants coming from Canada each year.

Many of Kittery’s 39 aliens had been here for decades, but had eschewed citizenship, perhaps wishfully thinking that some day, they would return/retire to the old country, as some do today.

For example, Walter MacDonald, age 57, born in Digby, Nova Scotia, had  lived in Maine since he was 2. The father of five American children, he worked as a loftsman at the Portsmouth Naval Shipyard, but had never become a U.S. citizen. But his registration form indicates that he had just submitted citizenship application paperwork. Citizenship offered protection from deportation and separation from his family.

But Annie G. Simmons, age 75, retired and the mother of four, didn’t bother applying for her citizenship, at least not in 1940. A widow, Annie hailed from the Azores Islands and spoke Portuguese. She had lived in Maine for 58 years, perhaps long enough to feel that she had nothing to fear from the registration order.

Kittery’s aliens hailed from about 10 different countries, including the usual suspects — Canada (Quebec, and the Maritime Provinces), England, and Ireland, along with some outliers, such as Turkey, Greece and Finland.

Eero Akersten, age 53, a widower from Finland, had only been in Kittery for a few weeks. He worked as a butler on Gerrish Island for Mrs. Edward Crocker, so I suspect he was only in town for the summer, along with Margaret Auchterlonie, from Scotland, who worked as a nurse for Mrs. Fergus Reid.  Another summer resident, Elisabeth Menzel, originally from Chateau de Prangins in Switzerland, worked as  governess for the William W. Howells family.

How did these immigrants feel about being compelled to register their status at the Town Office? Were they frightened that news about the war in Europe would subject them to extra scrutiny? Or did they willingly comply with registration, feeling that they had nothing to hide or fear from this documentation, or even viewing the act of registration as a patriotic duty?

The evidence suggest that registration made Kittery’s aliens nervous about their future: 25 of Kittery’s 39 registrants immediately applied for citizenship (according to their forms). In 1940, the United States was determined to stay out of the war in Europe, but rumors abounded of foreign intrigue.  The Governor’s executive order also encouraged Maine’s residents to report suspicious activity, and some did (although not in Kittery). Becoming a citizen was the best route to a secure future.

Compared to other towns in Maine, like Biddeford or Sanford, Kittery had only a few aliens. Kittery’s population had remained stable — or some would say stagnant — since the early 1800s, with little in-migration.  That would soon change, as the Shipyard ramped up its workforce during World War II, but in 1940, most of Kittery’s residents had lived here for generations.

Some of these aliens likely stood out more than others. Walter MacDonald’s neighbors might have been surprised to learn he wasn’t American. When Annie Simmons first arrived in town as a young woman from a far-flung island, she must have been an exotic presence, but after 58 years, she was an older woman with a touch of a foreign accent. And Albert Maillett, operating a restaurant on Route 1, probably still had a strong French-Canadian accent, but serving up food and drink for 13 years likely had transformed him into a local.

All of these immigrants probably thought of themselves as ordinary people who lived unremarkable lives. We get only glimpses of their stories from the Maine Alien Registration forms, and other documents, like lines from the US census of 1940. I wonder what stories these aliens would tell today about going to the Town Hall to fill out the registration forms.

(P.S. I’m hoping some local commenters might have heard parents or grandparents talk about the registration process and what it meant to their relatives).

Related posts:

The dark-eyed little girl in the photo

Fragments of history: When the the KKK marched in Kittery, Maine

Sources and resources

At Digital Maine’s Alien Registration Order Archive, of the Maine State Library, visitors can browse through 20,000 non-citizen immigrants registration forms; this extensive collection of documents is searchable by town and name. To learn more about the Order, see this article by Maine State Archivist Samuel Howes: Maine’s Alien Registration of 1940.

The 1940 Census can be searched online via a National Archives database. However, it appears that census data is only available from larger cities in York County.