POLONIA TODAY ONLINE

FOREWORD

World War I was raging. President Woodrow Wilson had his Fourteen Points of the League of Nations ready.

When the war ended, the Allies signed the Treaty of Versailles in 1919, which included the League of Nations document. One of the points of the Fourteen was the restoration of Poland with access to the sea.

Poland's history dates back to the Piast dynasty in 960 A.D. Its territory extended from the Baltic Sea north and the Black Sea to the south.

It disappeared from the map of Europe in 1795 after three partitions in 1771, 1792 and 1795 by Germany, Austria-Hungary and Russia.

The independence of Poland was proclaimed on November 9, 1918, two days before the Armistice. Poland rose from the ashes and became a free country.

Now here was a chance to rebuild Poland. My father, a zealous patriot, decided to help.

In the summer of 1919, mother left to visit her aged parents in Poland. She returned by Christmas and was very positive about living and raising her family there.

Father, hearing all these stories, planned to see for himself. His patriotism would not allow him to miss the opportunity to help Poland in his little way.

Meanwhile I was in my fourth year at the University of Chicago, expecting to receive my degree in March, 1921.

WHY GO TO POLAND?

March 25, 1921, was a date to remember for me. At the age of 22 I was in a cap and gown awaiting my degree at the University of Chicago; a certificate to teach in high schools arrived later. I looked forward to have a long five months of vacation.

Alas, my vacation was cut short to one week. Why? A principal of a suburban public grade school needed a replacement to fill. I was available. I decided to take this opportunity to start my teaching career; therefore I agreed to take the position.

The following Sunday I moved to a nearby town. I didn't need to look for lodging because one of the district school board members offered me room and board.

It was a very nice family. The head of the household was the doctor of the town. His wife was an excellent hostess and cook. She served delicious food and I was very happy there. I really enjoyed my three months living in the country.

In the meantime offers from various high schools kept coming to my home and I had a difficult time making a good choice.

Then one weekend, when I went to visit my family, my father spoke to me about a trip to Europe. Yes, he mentioned Poland.

"Poland?" I asked with surprise. "Why to Poland?"

"I am planning to go to Poland and I would like you to come along. We would sail to Amsterdam, then board a small boat to Gdansk [called Danzig at the time]."

"Oh, Gdansk, Dad! I am planning to teach in high school somewhere and now you're mixing up my plans."

"Well, dear, if you don't like it in Poland, you can always return to Chicago."

"Good, I like that!" Then Dad gave me a warm hug.

Dad made all the arrangements and we sailed on August 26, 1921, from New York on the Frederick the Great to Amsterdam and from there we took a small boat to Gdansk.

We had no problems at the railroad station or with the customs. As the train chugged along, I stood at the window looking a the beautiful landscape and fields of golden brown filled with wheat, rye and barley which were ready for harvesting. As we passed small railroad stations, I noticed laundry hanging out to dry in the sun and children watching a cow grazing. The laundry was not as white at it could be because of a shortage of soap and washing powder.

So far, I wasn't convinced to stay, but "Give it a try, Radzia," I said to myself. "Torun may be different." Torun was our destination. As we approached Torun, my father tried to explain what we were about to see.

"You don't know Poland or any of the customs, so I will try to explain what you will see on the way. We still have some distance to go. As we leave the train station in Torun, there will be some old, dilapidated horse and buggies waiting outside the station." Sure enough, there was only one left, an old scrawny nag with an old age driver sitting in the rickety buggy. My father hailed the driver, who gave me look from under his tired eyelids and helped with the luggage. We sat in the run-down rig and we were off. My father continued to tell me what I was to expect at the end of a bridge one kilometer [about 5/8 of a mile] we were going to cross. The Vistula [Wisla] River we were to cross was wide and full of currents.

"We will have a long way to go after we cross the bridge. At the end of our ride on the bridge, there will be a man sitting, a toll tax collector for the bridge. It is very curious, but the old guy doesn't collect a toll from all who pass. No, he is allowed to kiss the pretty girls in the cabs. That is the custom here! Only the older women need pay the toll."

"Well, Dad, I don't like that one bit! Why must I kiss a very old and dirty man for a ride? You, Dad, can give him a good tip and he'd be satisfied."

"Well, I don't know, but I will try. You, in the meantime, can pretend you're sound asleep because of your long trip."

"That's true. I will try. But, why would he want to kiss me, a foreigner?"

"Well, I don't know," my father remarked, "but that's the custom in this town. I found that out as we were leaving the station."

Soon we were on our way to the bridge. The old driver began to tell us stories of the war and why the bridge was not bombed. He told us the same story that my father told me about the toll for the use of the bridge and about the old toll collector at the end of the bridge. "Lucky is the girl who finds the old 'geezer' asleep. I wouldn't want to kiss the old fellow either," he said and grinned.

My father wasn't a bit surprised because he had heard this story before.

When I overheard this tale, I thought to myself, "I hope I will make a good showing of a sleeping princess.

As the old nag went clippety-clop on the bridge, a pretty long one at that, I tried to fall asleep. "How far, Dad, before we reach the toll collector?"

"Oh, it is still a long distance to the end, declared Dad with a smile. "For all we know he may be sound asleep and we will avoid paying the toll."

"I hope so," I sighed. We were soon over the lone structure. "Oh, Dad, I didn't have to kiss the old man. I'm so glad!"

"Yes," my father said with a smile. I then gave my father a big hug and a squeeze. Later I learned that it was Dad's joke on me.

[Author's Note: Happily, I remained in Poland from 1921 to 1939, including my 1925 marriage to my beloved husband, a Polish Army Captain. In spite of my American passport, the Nazi occupation ruined our marriage, sent him to an officers' camp for five-and-a-half years, and we never saw him again.

My two little girls and I lived two-and-a-half years of near starvation, crowded with another family in the cold basement of our beautiful villa. The girls and I were separated and I was sent to Camp Liebenau in southwestern Germany.]

MY PARENTS

My father, Stanley, who was born in 1862 in Russian Poland, was conscripted into the Russian where he served his six years. Returning home, he decided that he had enough Russia and would try his luck in America, the land of freedom and plenty.

Now, how to get to America was another problem. Upon returning from the army, his father had given him an antique gold watch with three protective covers, which he placed in his vest pocket. Happy father and son!

Stanley's brother was taken to Siberia for his anti-tsarist activities. Stanley's father was glad that his son Stanley made the right decision to go to America and would not be sent to Siberia as his older son was.

Stanley said farewell to his parents and reached Hamburg. He didn't waste any time, but went looking for the Hamburg Ocean Line office. He had little money, but he carried his father's gift in his vest pocket. The shipping clerk agreed to sell him a place on a steamer with the agreement that Stanley would get the watch back, when he'd sent the money to the Hamburg ticket office. The watch was the security. It wasn't long before Stanley received his gold watch and proudly replaced it in his vest pocket.

He kept on working in Connecticut, when he heard that there were plenty of jobs in Chicago. The 400th anniversary of the discovery of America by Columbus was going to be celebrated, and there was a need for many workers. Stanley didn't take long to decide and in Chicago he had a good job as a painter.

He was a thrifty young man, not a drinker and he saved his wages for the time he would need it.

My mother, born in German Poland, was not a happy child. She was the second girl of a large family of nine children. She was not a contented girl. Being the second daughter, she always wore the hand-me-down clothes, especially dresses; never did she receive a new frock and that made her very unhappy.

She found out from her mother that there was an Aunt Kate living in Chicago. Bronia, my mother, wrote to Aunt Kate and told her the troubles and disappointments she experienced at home.

Aunt Kate sent her the ticket for the ocean passage and some money to pay for the railroad ticket to Chicago. Was she happy!

It was some time before Stanley and Bronia met at a party in Aunt Kate's home. Six weeks later, the wedding date was set. Bronia had a brand new, lovely, long dress with a train and she beamed with delight.

The couple worked hard. Stanley had invested his savings in a hardware and paint store. Six children were born to them and I was the second, just like Bronia in her family.

My father had many customers who came to him for advice, which he gave willingly. He made many friends and was considered a patriot from Poland. This made him very popular. He belonged to Polish organizations and by 1914 he was already the chairman of many meetings. He spoke of their need to help Poland, although there was no Poland at that time. It belonged to Russia, Germany and Austria. In 1918, however, Poland was restored and put on the map of Europe.

The scene has now been set and we have met some of the principal characters.  The tale actually begins as Chapter 1 unfolds.