I have loved reading ever since I was very young. I learned to read before I started school, although at first I did it rather slowly. To this day I remember the first "real" books that I read on my own, including Vitya Maleev at School and at Home by Miko艂aj Nosow, Ferdynand the Magnificent by Ludwik Jerzy Kern, About a Boy Who Was Looking for a Home by Irena Jurgielewiczowa and Jacek, Wacek and Pankracek by Mira Jaworczakowa.
I have always believed that there is no better investment than investing in education, and in this case my parents hit the bull's-eye.
For readers unfamiliar with Communist Poland, it is worth noting that access to information, foreign books and international publications was far more limited than it was in the West. Owning a comprehensive encyclopedia was therefore much more valuable than it might seem today.
In Canada and the United States, used bookstores, thrift stores and even private home libraries are often filled with various editions of encyclopedias. Some sets contain dozens of volumes. Today they are becoming increasingly rare, partly because many second-hand stores no longer accept such bulky books, and partly because printed encyclopedias have largely disappeared from the publishing market.
Naturally, entries dealing with politics and history often contained distortions, half-truths or outright propaganda. Even so, Western Polish
茅migr茅 circles and, if I remember correctly, even
Radio Free Europe were pleasantly surprised by the overall scholarly quality of the publication.
I also discovered a few minor errors, although today I no longer remember what they were. One thing that was missing, however, was an entry for Katyn.
As I mentioned in another post, the editors did not want to publish false information about the Katyn Massacre—the 1940 murder of more than 20,000 Polish officers and intellectuals by the Soviet NKVD. At the same time, they were not permitted to tell the truth. The solution was simple: the entry did not exist at all.
That omission itself spoke volumes to an attentive reader.
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| General Stanislaw Haller -- according to the Encyclopedia, he died in 1940, thus confirming that he was murdered by the Soviets, NOT by the Germans |
I also managed to find a tiny "grain of truth." In the entry devoted to General Stanis艂aw Haller, one of the victims of the Katyn Massacre, the encyclopedia merely stated that he had "died in 1940." It was only a small detail, but it indirectly pointed toward the true perpetrators of the crime. I even wrote a short article about this for a Polish-Canadian newspaper in Toronto under the title A Grain of Truth in a Communist-Era Encyclopedia.
Perhaps it was my daily reading of the Encyclopedia that encouraged me to begin reading newspapers and magazines at a relatively early age, especially 呕ycie Warszawy (“The Life of Warsaw”), one of the major newspapers in communist Poland. I even clipped interesting articles and pasted them into a large scrapbook. Unfortunately, it disappeared after I left Poland.
I also frequently bought Czerwony Sztandar (“The Red Banner”), a Polish-language daily newspaper published in Soviet Lithuania and available in Polish newsstands. To many Poles in Poland, reading it felt like receiving a newspaper from a different world—one where communist propaganda was often more rigid and less sophisticated than in the PRL itself.
Quite apart from the fact that the newspaper literally smelled of fresh printing ink and stained your hands after only a few minutes of reading, it made a dreadful impression compared with newspapers and magazines published in communist Poland. Entire front pages were often devoted to statistics showing how factories and farms had fulfilled or exceeded quarterly and annual economic plans, or to lengthy announcements and proclamations issued by Communist Party authorities. International news occupied very little space and, when it did appear, it almost invariably portrayed the West in an extremely negative light.
When I occasionally brought copies of the newspaper to school and showed them to my classmates, some were genuinely shocked by its quality and content. It is therefore hardly surprising that for many Poles living in Soviet Lithuania, newspapers and magazines published in Poland were considered fascinating reading.
Years later, in Canada, I met a Lithuanian woman who had taught herself Polish while living in Soviet Lithuania so that she could listen to Polish radio and watch Polish television. For many people living in the Soviet Union, Polish media provided a rare window into a society that, while still communist, enjoyed noticeably greater cultural freedom and access to information than most Soviet republics.
She also learned to read Polish, which gave her access to numerous Polish books that were unavailable in Russian and, in some cases, banned in the USSR altogether. After emigrating to Canada, she married a Polish man. Her command of Polish was truly impressive, and I greatly admired her dedication.
While attending high school, I seriously considered studying political science. During the Solidarity period (1980–1981), I read enormous quantities of newspapers and, naturally, listened to many Western radio stations broadcasting in Polish. Besides the famous Radio Free Europe, I regularly tuned in to the BBC, Voice of America, Deutsche Welle, and several others. During the Cold War, millions of people behind the Iron Curtain relied on foreign radio broadcasts as an alternative source of news and information not available in state-controlled media.
I also listened to Interradio Prague, a Polish-language service broadcast from Czechoslovakia. It was an exceptionally hostile and strongly anti-Solidarity station run by hard-line communists who endlessly praised the virtues of the communist system.
From time to time it was also worth listening to Radio Peking, although it was generally rather dull. I rarely listened to Radio Moscow because the few programs I heard were so tedious, biased, and propagandistic that I quickly gave up on the station altogether.
The greatest source of entertainment, however, was Radio Tirana from communist Albania, a station that the Polish authorities apparently did not consider important enough to jam.
Albania under Enver Hoxha was one of the most isolated and ideologically rigid communist states in the world, often criticizing even the Soviet Union for being insufficiently communist.
Listening to Radio Tirana was like listening to a political comedy show. I vividly remember a lengthy broadcast condemning the Soviet Union because private citizens were allowed to own tiny household garden plots, something Albanian propagandists regarded as incompatible with the true spirit of communism.
Ironically, Soviet citizens really were allowed such plots, usually ranging from 0.15 to 0.5 hectares in size. Although they represented only about 3 percent of the country's agricultural land, they produced roughly 25–30 percent of the Soviet Union's total agricultural output.
Radio Tirana also broadcast amusing—though incredibly boring—poems glorifying Albanian leader Enver Hoxha and celebrating his supposedly unmatched wisdom.
In any case, by 1981 I had become intensely interested in political developments both in Poland and abroad. I even came up with a topic for a future master's thesis—or perhaps even a doctoral dissertation—related to that remarkable period.
Although I eventually took two university courses in political science, one of which dealt partly with the Soviet Union, my education and career ultimately followed a completely different path.
In any case, the PWN Encyclopedia introduced me to an enormous number of facts, ideas and subjects that I still remember today.
After arriving in Canada, I purchased a one-volume English-language encyclopedia and also acquired several older American editions. Besides, I often consulted various encyclopedias in the university reading room, as well as books like "Who's Who," which even helped me find a job and once made quite an impression on the president of the Canadian headquarters of a very well-known American company, one of the world's largest producers and sellers of soft drinks and food products.
In the 1980s a magnificent, richly illustrated four-volume Encyclopedia of Canada was published. I bought it for $150 and consulted it frequently for many years.
Only last year (2025) did I finally donate it to a used bookstore. It had lost an unequal battle against the Internet.
I find it much harder, however, to part with my four-volume PWN Encyclopedia, which followed me to Canada many years ago. It still sits on a shelf and brings back countless memories of my childhood and youth in Poland.
Today a complete four-volume set can be purchased for about 20 Polish z艂otys—less than the price of many modern magazines. Yet for me its value remains virtually priceless.
*****
And that brings me to another story, partly connected with the encyclopedia.
In 1992 I met Irenka P. in Canada. She was an architect by profession and even worked in my office for a few days. During one of our conversations, I mentioned that nearby Buffalo, New York, was home to the famous Guaranty Trust Building (formerly known as the Prudential Building), completed in 1896 and regarded as one of the city's first modern skyscrapers. The building was designed by the renowned architects Dankmar Adler and Louis Sullivan.
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| Louis Henry Sullivan and the Guaranty Trust Building in Buffalo, New York, in the Encyclopedia |
For readers unfamiliar with architectural history, Louis Sullivan is often called the "father of skyscrapers" and was one of the leading figures of the Chicago School of architecture. I also mentioned that Sullivan had been one of the pioneers of the modern office building.
I must admit that this rather specialized knowledge made quite an impression on Irenka. What I did not immediately reveal was that almost everything I knew about the building came straight from my beloved PWN Encyclopedia, which even contained a photograph of it.
Irenka was already familiar with Sullivan's work from her architectural studies and expressed an interest in seeing the building in person. So before long (in 1993) we set off for Buffalo in my first car, a 1983 Honda Accord, which I had purchased three years earlier for $7,000—$2,000 less than the dealer's original asking price.
After parking downtown, we had no trouble finding the distinctive building. It stood out from the surrounding structures even from a distance. I even remember photographing a small historical plaque mounted on the building. I should still have those photographs somewhere.
Buffalo itself, however, left us with a rather depressing impression. Many stores had their windows and doors boarded up, the streets were nearly empty, and the city seemed trapped in a long-term economic decline. I even remember witnessing a police chase that ended with the arrest of one of the local residents.
At the time, Buffalo was still struggling with the consequences of the collapse of much of its manufacturing and heavy industry. Once one of America's great industrial cities and an important transportation hub on the Great Lakes, it had lost a large portion of its population and economic vitality.
We even had trouble finding a decent caf茅 where we could sit down for coffee and cake. Buffalo's days of prosperity were clearly long gone, and the city's impressive late nineteenth- and early twentieth-century buildings served as reminders of its former wealth.
I also came across a plaque dedicated to Stanley Makowski, a former mayor of Buffalo of Polish descent. Later I bought a local newspaper and browsed the social announcements section. I was surprised by the sheer number of Polish surnames appearing in wedding announcements, anniversary notices, and obituaries.
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Buffalo City Hall is a 32-story Art Deco skyscraper. Completed in 1931 and added to the National Register of Historic Places in 1999, it stands 398 feet tall and serves as the official seat of local municipal government. It's quite similar to the New Tower of Babel in Fritz Lang's famous movie "Metropolis"
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The New Tower of Babel from Fritz Lang's 1927 movie "Metropolis
Source: Public Domain |
It turned out that Buffalo had indeed been one of the most important centers of Polish immigration in the United States for many decades. Large numbers of Polish immigrants settled there during the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Polish churches, organizations, and cultural institutions were still active, although most people of Polish ancestry had long since moved to the surrounding suburbs and smaller communities.
Although I have never had the opportunity to visit it, St. Adalbert's Basilica is located in Buffalo, New York. It was built in 1890 by Polish emigrants and in 1907 received the designation "Basilica" from the Vatican - the first in the USA!
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Saint Adalbert's Basilica, 212 Stanislaus Street, Buffalo, New York
Source: Wikimedia Commons, Public Domain |
I first learned about this church in the early 2000s from one of my "long-time" clients, whose brother was the parish pastor. Unfortunately, the basilica was closed despite numerous protests and appeals from parishioners. The decision to close it was ultimately upheld. The last regular Sunday Mass was celebrated on September 18, 2011, marking the conclusion of the parish's year-long 125th anniversary celebrations.
Fortunately, the basilica has not been abandoned entirely. It remains open for four annual commemorative Masses, as well as for weddings, funerals, baptisms, guided tours, and other special occasions.
This is particularly sad because the neighborhood surrounding the church was once the heart of one of Buffalo's largest Polish-American communities. Streets such as Sobieski Street, Paderewski Drive and Kosciuszko Street still bear witness to the area's rich Polish heritage.
Today, however, the neighborhood has changed dramatically. The once-thriving Polish-American community has largely been replaced by a diverse population consisting primarily of African Americans, along with growing Vietnamese and Bangladeshi communities. Unfortunately, local residents generally advise against walking through the area after dark.
It is also worth mentioning that Buffalo was the site of one of the most dramatic events in American history. In 1901 President William McKinley was shot there by Leon Czolgosz, an American anarchist of Polish descent. McKinley died eight days later from his wounds, while Czolgosz was convicted, sentenced to death, and executed later that same year.
Also on one of the buildings was a commemorative plaque about another president of the United States:
In his house on this site
Millard Fillmore
Thirteenth President of the United States
Resided from 1858 until his death here, March 8, 1874
This tablet erected 1924 by
The Buffalo Historical Society
Of which he was a founder
And the first President 1862-67
Before the trip, I had promised Irenka that I would take her to a good seafood restaurant. I even prepared a list of such places in Buffalo, but to my surprise most of them no longer existed.
Eventually, a very friendly older Black gentleman suggested that we drive to nearby Cheektowaga, one of Buffalo's major suburbs and itself home to many Polish-Americans. He recommended a particular seafood restaurant, gave us the address, and carefully explained how to get there.
I drove while Irenka became my navigator. I must admit that neither before nor since has anyone guided me through an unfamiliar city as efficiently as she did. Her map-reading skills were truly impressive. Perhaps it had something to do with her architectural training and exceptional sense of spatial orientation.
We reached the restaurant in record time, and it turned out to be excellent. Our efforts were rewarded with delicious seafood and fish dishes.
For the next year or two we remained in touch, mainly by telephone. Gradually, however, the contact faded away, and if I remember correctly, Irenka eventually returned to Poland.
A few years ago I tried to find her on the Internet. Unfortunately, the information I discovered suggested that she had most likely passed away sometime around 2004...馃槩馃槩馃槩
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Notes
⬆ *) During the Communist era in Poland, schoolchildren were required to participate in annual paper-recycling drives. Every student had to bring in several kilograms of old newspapers, magazines, or books, and those who collected larger amounts could sometimes receive small rewards. Like many activities in Communist Poland, these campaigns were presented as educational and socially useful, but participation was often treated as an obligation rather than a voluntary activity.
As a result, we went door to door throughout our apartment building asking residents whether they had any old newspapers or magazines they planned to throw away. Quite often we would come home with several kilograms of paper.
The problem arose when people asked through the door:
"Who is it?"
It was difficult to explain the purpose of our visit every time, so I invented a mysterious-sounding abbreviation:
"ZZM!"
No one ever asked what it actually stood for. Perhaps that was because it sounded sufficiently official and bureaucratic—rather like ZMP, ZHP or ZMS (the Union of Polish Youth, the Union of Polish Scouts or the Union of Socialist Youth, communist youth organizations) or one of the many acronyms common in those days.
The doors opened, we explained our mission, and more often than not we walked away with a respectable quantity of old newspapers.
Our efforts paid off. At the end of the school year we were recognized for collecting a record amount of waste paper. As far as I can remember, it was probably the only distinction I ever received during either elementary school or high school.
Unfortunately, the promised reward never materialized... ☹
Years later I read the memoirs of another author who also described these paper drives. According to him, students who failed to meet their quota could face surprisingly serious consequences, including difficulties obtaining their year-end report cards. Everyone therefore tried to gather the required amount of paper, which was not always easy.
Eventually someone came up with a brilliantly simple solution.
Bookstores sold the collected works of Marx, Engels, Lenin, and other Marxist-Leninist classics for almost symbolic prices. These books were often heavily subsidized by the state and could be purchased for less than many ordinary publications. Since enormous numbers were printed, they were widely available and not particularly valued by most readers.
Some students concluded that instead of spending hours collecting old newspapers, it was cheaper and easier simply to buy several volumes of communist ideological literature and immediately turn them in at the school recycling depot (where they belonged in the first place!)
There was a certain irony in the fact that books intended to educate citizens in Marxism-Leninism were being purchased only to be recycled as waste paper.
I do not know whether the school administration ever discovered what was happening. If they did, it is hard to say whether they were more amused or irritated by the students' ingenuity.
One thing is certain—their creativity deserves admiration.
*****
Blogi s膮 r贸wnie偶 dost臋pne w j臋zyku polskim/blogs are also available in the Polish language
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More from the author
This entry is part of a broader collection of personal research and historical documentation across multiple blogs:
馃憠 Travel and nature archive/blog/: https://ontario-nature.blogspot.com/
