There are so many things about my trip to the Dry Tortugas which I want to share with the world. The unrelenting wild, pristine nature, stunning architectural feats of historical significance, mysterious shipwrecks only a kayak’s trip offshore…
However, during my days here, the experience which, to me, resonated on a spiritual level was my time in what I have come to call the Cuba Room.
I promised I would keep the exact location of this particular room within Fort Jefferson to myself. The simple fact is, funding cannot always keep up with preservation. In fact, funding rarely keeps up with preservation. Occasionally, and in this case specifically, this means that some of the most unbelievable sites must go on unexplored by the general public.
I was one of the few who were blessed during my time at Fort Jefferson to be given a few minutes’ time inside of the Cuba Room.
The park rangers I spoke to told me that even in this modern age, about once a week, people come ashore at the Dry Tortugas looking to start a new life in America. In the photo above, you can see a plaque which details when one such trip by a group of 33 undaunted individuals. In the photo below, the boat they rode in, which is still at Fort Jefferson.
I have not been able to find any truly official information about the origins of the Cuba Room, but it was speculated by the ranger that it is known to those who are making the journey that may lead them to it… that for those who were fortunate enough to make it to the Dry Tortugas, and to their new lives, they were already aware of the existence of this room and its purpose.
Somewhere at the back of this 150+ year old old military fort, at the top of a dilapidated stairway, in the middle of the ocean, miles from the nearest civilization, is a small, pitch black room, lined from floor to ceiling with wooden boards. On these boards are the records of passage for countless immigrants to the United States.
To me, the style of script indicates that many of these pieces of historical graffiti are not even remotely recent. Some of the dates demonstrate that the records are still occasionally being created, even in the past couple of decades.
It was a spiritual experience - emotional and humbling - to stand in this room, looking around at the records for those who had the determination and the hope to get so far. I can only begin to imagine the stories that led people to converge at this particular place. I can only imagine the sense of relief that would be felt by a loved one who saw the name of someone who had gone before them - the assurance that they had made it - that they were safe.
I hope with all my heart the authors of this room found all of the happiness that they were seeking in their futures. The room itself feels like a representation of their determination and their boundless hope, since the last kind of record-keeping one would expect to be preserved in a dilapidated, leaking fort in the middle of the ocean is chalk. It is human nature to do what we can with what we have, but this particular demonstration is so incredibly touching.
Access to this room is not available to the public. Despite the deep respect that many individuals, especially Local Guides, feel towards history, preservation, and documentation, not all people feel the same. The preservation of this room currently depends on its being left alone, without exposure. As one of the rangers expressed, and I agree - it is my hope that one day the funding will manifest in order to enclose these precious records in plexiglass, strengthen the pathways which lead to the room, and illuminate it, so that visitors to the Dry Tortugas can understand the historical significance of the United States’ southernmost Ellis Island.
So - my question to my fellow Local Guides - have you ever posted a photo of something to Google Maps to preserve it? What have you contributed so that others would not lose access to what you wanted to share? What is your favorite contribution from a historical site?
