Abstract
My grandfather, a Slovak immigrant, was a silent man. Curiosity about his versatility as a worker and the Slovak appetite for work led me to as many stories of men like him as I could find in mainstream American literature. Slovak voices are not heard except as they are indistinguishably blended in an Eastern European chorus in Upton Sinclair's The Jungle. Sinclair presents Slovaks as a new immigrant group which must endure as other groups have:
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