Bronisław Malinowski — Olympic gold medalist

Part V: International track and field meet (Poland-Canada-United Kingdom) in Warsaw, Poland, June 30, 1974

The most valuable autograph I obtained that day was, without question, the signature of Bronisław Malinowski (1951–1981), an outstanding Polish middle- and long-distance runner who specialized in the 3000-metre steeplechase. He won the silver medal at the 1976 Montreal Olympics and went on to claim gold at the 1980 Moscow Games in the same event.

Bronisław Malinowski
The note says, "Third place, 5,000 meters"

I remember very clearly how I managed to obtain his autograph. After the competition, already outside the stadium, I spotted Malinowski standing in line at a soda water stand—what was then commonly known in Poland as a saturator. To my surprise, he drank several glasses of water one after another. I found this somewhat puzzling—were athletes not provided with drinks after their events? In any case, it presented a perfect opportunity, and I was able to approach him and obtain his autograph without difficulty.

This is perhaps a good moment to explain what these saturators were, as they were a distinctive feature of everyday life in communist-era Poland and may be unfamiliar to non-Polish readers. These were mobile street stands, typically mounted on two-wheeled carts, equipped with a tank of pressurized carbon dioxide, water containers, and glass jars containing flavored syrups—most commonly raspberry and lemon. The vendor would dispense carbonated water, either plain or mixed with syrup, into reusable glass tumblers. Large umbrellas often provided shade for the operator.

Saturator. Source: Wikimedia Commons

Such stands were extremely popular in Warsaw and other cities. At the time, a glass of plain soda water cost 30 groszy, while one with syrup cost one złoty. After each use, the glass was only briefly rinsed—without detergent—which, unsurprisingly, raised serious hygiene concerns. As a result, people jokingly referred to this drink as “gruźliczanka” (roughly, “tuberculosis water”), reflecting a widespread skepticism about cleanliness.

Self-service soda machines.
Source: Wikipedia Commons

There were also self-service soda machines. One would insert a coin, press a button, and receive a drink. I remember two such machines standing for some time at the northeast corner of Świerczewskiego and Żelazna streets in Warsaw, next to a district office building. Unfortunately, they were often out of order or missing glasses. Some users discovered that instead of inserting a coin, a well-placed punch could sometimes trigger the mechanism—and, remarkably, this method occasionally worked.

Self-serve saturator in the Soviet Union in 1987
Source:  “A Day in the Life of the Soviet Union”, photo by Paul Chesley

These types of machines were also produced in the Soviet Union and widely used there. In the well-known photographic album “A Day in the Life of the Soviet Union”—a collection of images taken by leading international photojournalists on a single day, May 15, 1987—there is a photograph by Paul Chesley showing several girls standing by such machines. The accompanying caption explains that Soviet vending machines dispensed soda or juice but did not provide disposable cups; instead, users were expected to rinse and reuse a shared glass. Bringing one’s own glass was reportedly considered “uncultured,” meaning a breach of unwritten social etiquette.

In Poland, I do not recall this being seen as particularly improper, but at the same time, I do not remember anyone actually bringing their own glass.

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Returning to Bronisław Malinowski—his life ended tragically. He died in a car accident on September 27, 1981, on a bridge in the city of Grudziądz. I remember that day vividly. A television program—possibly a sports broadcast—was on, hosted by Tomasz Hopfer. At one point, he received a phone call, and shortly afterward, he announced the shocking news to viewers.

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There is one more deeply personal memory connected with that day at the stadium. Some time later, at a Ruch kiosk (a typical state-run newsstand in Poland), I came across a postcard featuring Malinowski and needless to say, bought it. It included a portrait, an action shot of him clearing a steeplechase barrier, and a printed reproduction of his signature.

Something prompted me to take a closer look—and suddenly I had a moment of revelation.

Postcard with Bronisław Malinowski as well as my father and myself

The photograph had been taken by Janusz Szewiński, the husband of the legendary sprinter and multiple Olympic medalist Irena Szewińska—at the very same Skra stadium, during the very same event I had attended.

My father and myself

But that was not all. On the left side of the image, I was able to recognize… myself and my father. When I showed the postcard to my mother, she identified us almost immediately. Although our figures are somewhat blurred, I clearly remember where we had been sitting—directly opposite the water jump. Even more striking, a vendor selling snacks or small items can be seen nearby, along with his entire setup—I remember him well.

And so that single day, seemingly ordinary at the time, turned out to be filled with remarkable coincidences and memories that have only grown more meaningful with the passing years.

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