They arrive as citizens of foreign lands and depart as Americans. U.S. Magistrate Judge Thomas O. Farrish is allowed to perform this small miracle every Friday in a courthouse named for Abraham A. Ribicoff, the son of Jewish immigrants from Poland.
Jhoshelin Lizette Coronel Romano, the wife and mother of Americans, was the first to rise when Farrish called the roll of 16 nations represented by the 25 men and women waiting to be naturalized as U.S. citizens. The roll is alphabetical, and Romano is from Bolivia.
“Welcome to you,” Farrish said. “And I understand we might have one, maybe two people from Brazil? There we go. Welcome to you. And do we have somebody from Cape Verde today? OK, welcome to you, sir. I understand we might have two people from Colombia. Good morning to you both. And from Ecuador? Good morning, sir.”
And so it went Friday morning in the south courtroom in U.S. District Court in Hartford. It is a room where Farrish other times might be asked to order a criminal defendant held without bail, where tearful parents watch their children being taken away in handcuffs. Not on Friday mornings.
In a time when much is uncertain about the federal bureaucracy, when employees in the Ribicoff building are weighing buyouts and attitudes towards immigration are hardening, people still reach the end of their singular paths to U.S. citizenship.
Awaiting them is a tiny flag, a certificate of naturalization, and a hearty handshake from Tom Farrish, the great grandson of an immigrant from Ukraine.
On this Friday, two others would join Farrish in welcoming the new Americans. Gov. Ned Lamont watched from a table by the wall, making his first visit to Farrish’s courtroom.
U.S. Richard Blumenthal is a regular, often coming straight from airport after his flight home from Washington. He first attended a naturalization ceremony in the building when he was a young law clerk to Judge Jon O. Newman.
The roll of nations continued. Blumenthal smiled when a woman from Germany rose. The senator’s father came from Germany in 1935, a Jew fleeing persecution. Martin Blumenthal was 17, and he came alone.
Then Guatemala, Haiti and Peru.
“I understand we’re going to have three new Americans from Peru,” Farrish said, scanning his list. “Welcome to all, three new Americans.”
Russia was represented. So was South Korea. Vietnam was last. Two women rose, one on either side of the courtroom. One was petite, rising unnoticed from the row. Farrish scanned the room.
“Oh, there you are,” he said.
Dora Warner, the immigration examiner, formally told Farrish that each applicant has been deemed of good moral character and met all the requirements of U.S. citizenship.
“What that means is that the moment that you’ve been waiting for all these years has arrived,” Farrish said.
As a group, they rose, each holding a copy of the oath they were to about to make, renouncing and withdrawing any allegiance to any foreign prince, potentate, state or sovereignty. Farrish slowly and deliberately read the oath, pausing as the immigrants repeated the words, their final act as foreigners.
“That I will support and defend the Constitution and laws of the United States of America against all enemies, foreign and domestic, that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same, that I will bear arms on behalf of the United States when required by law.”
Farrish told them the oath was similar to the one he swore 40 years ago when he joined the U.S. Marine Corps. He recalled practicing the oath for fear of making a mistake. Farrish smiled when some of the new citizens nodded in recognition.
“I hope [the repetition] didn’t cause you to lose sight of how remarkable the oath really is,” Farrish said. “You just promised your faith and allegiance, not to a king or a queen or a president or a party. You promised that faith and allegiance to a written constitution.
“And I’m guessing that you agree with me that what’s most special about America, it’s a country united not by a culture or ethnicity or other affiliation, but rather by an idea that’s enshrined in founding documents, the idea that people are endowed by their creator with certain unalienable rights.”
Lamont and Blumenthal were invited to offer their own welcomes.
Without any reference to current events, Lamont reminded them of what that means: “We’re not ruled by a king, and that nobody is above the law, and that we have checks and balances.”
Blumenthal told them they were Americans, citizens of an ever-evolving nation, participants in a never-ending experiment in a multicultural representative democracy.
“I look at you, and what I see is America — different races, different religions, different backgrounds, different national origins,” Blumenthal said. “Our diversity makes us great. We are a nation of immigrants, and no other country is a nation of immigrants in the way that we are.”
In their faces, he said, he sees his father.
“And nobody loved America more than my dad, and sometimes he criticized our government,” Blumenthal said. “And if there is one message I want to impart to you today, it is you should be critical too. When we do something you disagree with, let us know, no matter who we are, your local officials, your U.S. Senator, your president.”
“And when you come into a courthouse like this one, you are equal before the law. You’ve been a citizen for what, maybe 10 minutes, but you are as much an American, and you are entitled to same rights, as though you’ve been here for 10 generations.”
One by one, the new Americans stepped forward take a picture with a magistrate judge, a Connecticut governor and U.S. senator. Romano, the woman from Bolivia, posed with her husband, Michael Luzzi, the grandson of Italian immigrants, and their U.S. born daughter, 2-year-old Maya.
Her journey to citizenship was six years.
Farrish would preside over two more naturalization ceremonies by day’s end. As the new citizens exited, some filling out voter registrations, the next group arrived. Farrish was ready to welcome them.