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CHARLESTON, W.Va. (AP) — When Syrian immigrant George Rashid traveled to the United States in 1901, he arrived envisioning a life of prosperity and limitless opportunity.
The authenticity of the American Dream soon vanished when he contracted a physical affliction causing lesion-like sores on his skin and face, later diagnosed as leprosy.
With no consistent employment or income for health care, Rashid was exiled to the B&O Railroad's final stop at Pickens, West Virginia, labeled the "outskirts" of the new world.
From a distance, the town physician and residents interacted and provided food for the man, ensuring that he received medical attention despite the detached relations before his death in 1906.
By sharing Rashid's story, Marshall University Professor Peggy Proudfoot Harman and her husband are assembling a documentary with the help of a grant from the West Virginia Arts and Humanities Council to examine the effects of discrimination towards immigrants in the United States between the 20th century and today.
Growing up in Mill Creek, West Virginia, Harman spent her spare time working odd jobs at her family's general store. Rooted 25 miles away from Pickens, Harman's family heard tales of the nearby city and its legendary leper.
Dr. James L. Cunningham, Pickens' town physician who cared for Rashid, was often the subject of the conversation.
"It was a big case," she said. "At the time, I was a kid, and I thought the guy was still alive and I wanted to take care of him too. I think that's why I became a social worker — because of the leper."
As she grew older, Harman began questioning the authenticity of the leper's tale, but a short visit with her husband's aunt dissolved her doubts.
"My aunt actually had a story on him written by a superintendent," her husband Jason said. "It was only one or two pages, but it was certainly his story."
Soon, the tale of the leper was revived.
"That's when I decided to check it out and see what happened because it's such an interesting story that he came from Syria and went to Maine and New York to work," she said.
When it comes to oral history, there are often gaps, Harman said; between 1901 and 1905, Rashid traveled without documentation and therefore no record of residence.
"Some say he worked for the railroad. Others say he roamed around the United States because he was chased off due to his condition," Harman said. "Some say he had a wife, but I haven't been able to document that."
Harman said two congressional hearings had featured Rashid's case to combat immigration health care fallacies.
"They didn't know what to do with people who had leprosy, and at the time, it was considered highly contagious," she said. "It is somewhat, and there are still leper colonies in the world, so it's still an affliction that's out there but people don't realize it because it's not AIDS or Ebola."
Rashid was also the subject of conversation for physicians nationwide to determine proper strategies to fight the illness.
"He was put off there, in Pickens, by the B&O Railroad, and there was a fence built around him by the railroad company and a tent placed under a rock where he lived. They would go and set his food out and he had a guard," Harman said.
Harman said with the escalating immigration discussion in the upcoming election, the decisions only affirmed fear of the unknown.
"I don't think it matters how long ago you were wronged — and society wronged this man — but our national public health system was not what it should've been," she said. "We were not ready for the onslaught of immigrants that we got at that time and our public health system was really just beginning."
With no rules or guidelines, Rashid was simply shuffled from state to state.
"It's interesting research and an interesting take on how fear actually creates violence because people didn't know what to do with him," Harman said. "Here he was, coming to West Virginia to work but for him to be quarantined for two months."
Although the town estimated Rashid to be 46, Harman believes he was actually in his early 20s.
"His life was just beginning," she said. "He spoke English and communicated well; it's just wild and it will feel great if we can reunite him with family."
Only three images exist of Rashid today, Harman said.
Harman attributed a portion of her expertise in research to her former position as the federal investigator for the federal public defender.
"What I really liked was doing the historical information and putting together a profile of the person based on the history, family and environment," she said. "It's on that same realm and line of work, and that's what we do as social workers; when people come to see us, they share their stories but we have to collaborate with external sources to get the entire story."
Pinpointing the truth can be challenging, she said, especially when no documentation exists.
"You learn quickly when you're working through federal government that the only real type of evidence is something like a death record or birth or marriage certificate. Those can be used as evidence in court," Harman said.
Secondary sources may include journal entries or newspaper articles.
"In the end, the hard truth won't be a whole picture," she said, pausing. "There are going to be holes and all we can do is put everything together and see what we find."
As the dynamic pair continues to research and align the documentary's plot, Harman said she hopes to create a second, shorter version to be displayed at workshops for sixth graders, a population prone to bullying and discrimination.
Harman's $1,500 grant will fund the documentary's production and also workshop curriculum for middle schools in the state.
"There's no guarantee it'll be accepted, but filming will be completed by the first of the year," Jason said.
The anticipation only builds as the Harmans trace historical archives for more information.
"We've reached out to a reunion page for the Rashid family, but we haven't heard back yet," Harman said. "This guy, as far as we can tell, had no family come out to claim him or pay their respects. Hopefully we'll be able to generate some interest."
"The people of Pickens cared for him," Harman said. "They fed him and kept him company and they were like his social workers; they did the best they could. Now I'm just trying to find his family."
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Information from: The Charleston Gazette-Mail, http://wvgazettemail.com.
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