The winding path to citizenship
Even for an English-speaking "American" the process can be daunting
****Author’s Note: This is a “throwback Thursday” article, in which I share a piece from my journalism past I particularly liked or has resonance today. Given all the hubbub around immigrants and citizenship, I felt that sharing this story from 1999 would be relevant 25 years later. Fun fact from the reporting: the main sources in the story were celebrating hard after the citizenship ceremony and wouldn’t give me quotes unless I imbibed with them. This may be the only story I ever had published that I wrote while pretty drunk!****
Surrounded by immigrants from Mexico, Zimbabwe, Vietnam and Colombia, Roland DeGryse felt a little out of pace at the swearing-in ceremony of new citizens in Rock Island Thursday.
After all, the 59-year-old Belgian has lived in Moline nearly his whole life, and speaks English as his native language.
Thanks to bureaucratic red tape and mix-ups with the Immimgration and Naturalization Service, however, DeGryse did not become a full-fledged citizen until Thursday, Aug. 12, 1999.
Following the ceremony conducted by federal judge Joe McDade, DeGryse celebrated his new citizen status with friends and relatives at East Moline’s Lil’ Cowbell tavern.
The first glass of champagne as an official American tasted sweet, he said, although he’s put plenty of beer away at the Cowbell - where he is affectionately known as “Belgie” - over the past four decades.
“I don’t feel too different,” DeGryse said. “After being in this country for the last 46 years, this doesn’t mean things will change for me tomorrow.”
If a bit of stubborness and a refusal to give up are indicative of the American spirit, DeGryse will make a fine citizen. He first applied for citizenship in 1955, again in 1979, again in the mid-80s and for the last time in 1996.
He was born in a small village in Belgium, eldest of three sons. He remembers hiding under the kitchen table as German bombs fell on his town during World War II.
His father was a baker, born in Moline, who move back to Belgium with his parents as a toddler.
“Believe it or not, he never forgot about Moline, and his dream was to come back and be a baker here,” recalled DeGryse. “He left first, and went to Canada. My mother, brothers and I came over later on the Nieuw Amsterdam luxury liner.”
That was in 1953.
In 1955, at the age of 17, DeGryse applied for citizenship for the first time. He was denied because he wasn’t 18. That did not, however, prevent the Air Force from accepting him.
“I joined and served two years, back then you could be in the military and not be a citizen,” he said. “It’s kind of funny that you can die for your country but you can’t vote.”
After his honorable discharge, DeGryse thought his military service would suffice to grant him citizenship. He was wrong.
Despite the setback, he embarked on a career, following his father’s footsteps.
“I went to work at the old Five Point Bakery in Moline because I had baker’s blood in my system,” he said. “I didn’t think about citizenship for a long time. I was out running around, enjoing my youth. It skipped my mind during those years.”
In 1979, his mother urged him to try again. After filling out a declaration of intention and an application, he waited to hear back. And waited. And waited some more.
“We didn’t hear a thing for many, many years,” he said. “I just dropped it and went about my life.”
The topic remained closed until the mid 1980s when DeGryse learned he could apply for citizenship at the federal building in Rock Island.
“They gave me more papers to fill out, had my picture taken and made me send in another application,” he said. “After a while, I got a letter back saying I had to go to Chicago. I went there, and the office was closed. I got discouraged, so I dropped it again.”
In 1995, DeGryse thoughts turned to citizenship again. This time, he hooked up with longtime Republican political activist Bess Meersman, who took an interest in his case.
“So I got more papers, and another application, and didn’t hear anything for some time,” he said. “I finally got a letter telling me to get my fingerprints and a picture taken. I went to the East Moline police and had my fingerprints done and they said they would send my paperwork to the INS office in Omaha.”
In August of 1998, two years after his last application and more than 40 since his first, the INS wrote DeGryse a letter reading “We appreciate your patience while we are processing your application.”
There was a catch, however. Somehow, his fingerprints never made it to Nebraska.
“They told me to go to the INS office in Naperville to get my fingerprints taken again,” he said. “I drove the whole family up there, and a guard stopped me at the door and said they were full for the day. I had to come back the next Monday. I got home totally discouraged again.”
Finally, early this year, DeGryse received another letter saying if he wished to continue pursuing citizenship, he could get fingerprints taken in St. Louis or Macomb. This time, the fingerprints did not get lost.
This summer, he received a letter telling him to show up at the courthouse in Rock Island for a citizenship interview. There, if the paperwork was in order and he passed a test, he would become eligible to participate in August’s swearing-in ceremony.
“I get there and the INS guy tells me the pictures from my last application are too old, and I have to run and get my picture taken that same day,” DeGryse laughed. “I get back with the picture and he asks me if I filled out an application. Apparently, the application got lost again. So I had to go out in the hallway and fill out another one.”
Finally, he was issued the citizenship test, which he aced, and was told he could participate in the ceremony.
“Despite the problems, I’m still proud to be an American, or I wouldn’t have gone through all this,” he said.
His brother, Andre, isn’t as lucky. Two years younger than Roland, the Moline man still is not a U.S. citizen.
Like his brother, Andre served in the military, as a Marine. Unlike Roland, he did not have the patiene to put up with all the red tape.
“For the last 20 years I’ve sent papers to Chicago with applications and haven’t heard back,” he said. “I don’t think I’ll try again. The only difference is I can’t vote. I still feel more American than Belgian.”
Roland’s son Greg was on hand to see his father finally become a citizen. Although he’s never thought of his dad as a foreigner, he knew the day was important to him.
“He’s been wanting to take care of this for a long time, for as long as I can remember, anyway,” Greg said. “It was weird that my dad served in the military and lived here but wasn’t a citizen. My friends didn’t believe it.”
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The Belgians are living the true American dream. Let the peaceful pigeon be their symbol.