Galician Trails: The Forgotten Story of One Family
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Mayor Nimhin also built a reputation as an honest broker with his impartiality during the potentially explosive situations that sometimes bubbled up in the multiethnic city. One year, the Catholic Church made a formal complaint that, during the carnival-like celebrations of the Jewish holiday of Purim, a few revelers had dressed as priests and driven through the city in an open carriage, holding fake religious symbols. If true, this would not have constituted just a minor act of impersonation; it would have been regarded as a highly disrespectful situation with grave consequences, having the potential to aggravate religious tensions. In response to these charges, an investigation by the mayor proved the allegations utterly false, demonstrating step by step how gossip had distorted the truth. In the end, the conclusions of the mayor’s commission were accepted by the city council, and Nimhin’s personal adherence to facts rather than emotions was acknowledged by the city’s religious leaders, including those who had made the initial accusation. At a time when religion was often hijacked for other-thanspiritual purposes, this was not a minor accomplishment by the mayor.18
Stanislawow. The Armenian church as seen from City Hall. (Photograph from the 1930s.)
With the skill of an attorney who became a politician, Nimhin was not afraid to tackle sensitive issues in the community. One year, in preparation for a national census that would determine future subsidies for education in the city, he certainly must have raised eyebrows among some conservative Jews of Stanislawow when he publicly appealed to them to identify Polish rather than Yiddish as their primary language. The mayor’s purpose was actually to increase the chances that the census would fully account for the Jewish population of Stanislawow; government bureaucrats tallying the census had been instructed to throw away entries noting the use of “unofficial” languages. Undoubtedly, Dr. Nimhin knew that he was walking a fine line; for many Jews, the recent rejection by the highest court of the Austro-Hungarian Empire of Yiddish as a recognized language was surely seen as unfair.19 But whether that was right or wrong was beside the point for the pragmatic mayor—uncounted entries would simply mean fewer resources for the city.
The year 1901 began, of course, with newspapers celebrating the new century. The customary retrospectives included nostalgic looks at Napoleon Bonaparte of France, despised by many in Europe but cherished by Poles. Others wrote about the Spring of Nations (the wave of revolutions that almost broke apart the monarchies of Europe in 1848) and many technological advances that had come to life in the past century. Predictions of what the new century would bring were amazingly vague, with not a hint that the twentieth century would ultimately mean the end of Galicia. The new year brought news of a brutal war in faraway South Africa; the passing of the long-lived symbol of the British Empire, Queen Victoria; and the death of the famous Italian composer Giuseppe Verdi.
Stanislawow. The Greek Catholic cathedral. (Postcard from the early twentieth century.)
On a local level, Stanislawow newspapers reported the results of the census, which revealed a population of more than 30,000. The number would be even more impressive if the proposed widening of the city limits—which meant inclusion of a suburban town within its boundaries—could finally be implemented. In contrast to today, when the rapid growth of a city’s population might be viewed with mixed feelings, the newspapers of that time heralded the growth of Stanislawow with pride, as a measure of its emergence from provincial obscurity.
Every 10 years, when the census data were reported, Stanislawow’s public paid close attention, not only to its prized place as the third most populous city of Galicia but also to its ethnic composition. With just minor changes, the town maintained roughly the same multiethnic fabric for several decades. Approximately half of the city dwellers were Jewish, followed by Poles (constituting about 30 percent) and a smaller group of Ruthenians.20
Around the time that the Regiec family moved to town, new technologies were making slow inroads into the ways people communicated. The city still had only 41 registered telephones, a far cry from the mind-boggling 697 in Galicia’s capital. Those were also times of innocence, when privacy was not the issue it is today. Not surprisingly, the local newspaper was able to print all telephone subscribers on a single page, but somewhat surprisingly, number 56, the home phone number of the mayor, Dr. Nimhin, was included.21 Perhaps those less influential who did not have this luxury were not too despondent, because there were so few opportunities to use this new invention. Only years later would it become possible to make a phone call from Stanislawow to Vienna, rather than resorting to a telegram or the even slower mail service. But this was not a major issue for most citizens of Stanislawow, who instead complained of too many horse-drawn carriages for hire crowding the streets, along with rude service and overcharging by whip-wielding cabbies. Solutions to this were already on the horizon, with plans for the first electric tram recently submitted to city hall.22
Horse-drawn carriage (fiacre), a frequent topic of complaints by the citizens of Stanislawow. (Die Muskete March 7, 1907; ŐNB, Vienna.)
But not all matters could be resolved locally. And just as it is today, not everyone welcomed new businesses. All four of Stanislawow’s pharmacists, upset about competition, unsuccessfully appealed to the governor of Galicia in protest of the planned opening of new apothecaries in town. Another newspaper article complained that the central government in Vienna was not raising the salaries of railway staff in line with growing revenues from Galician rails, which had amounted to 22 million kronen the previous year. It is safe to assume that Joseph Regiec was in full agreement with the latter argument.23
Then there were highly charged rumors, only to be denied days later, that Stanislawow might lose its status as headquarters of the Third Directorate of the Railway Administration, in favor of Czerniowce (which Joseph had left just a year previously). Not long before, the city had made major investments in buildings needed for the railroad administrators, and now the possible loss of prestige along with several well-paid jobs constituted an unnerving threat.24 Wrangling among politicians and anxious petitions behind the scenes began in Vienna. Not unlike today, newspaper pundits quoted unnamed sources, who pontificated that moving the railway’s regional headquarters to the Duchy of Bukovina would be a grave security mistake—owing to the Duchy’s proximity to Russia, a potential enemy of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the anxiety abated when the government announced unambiguously its need to retain Stanislawow as the communication hub. As though to make both sides happy, plans for future expansion of railway administration offices in Bukovina were disclosed at the same time.25 This was typical of the way the government bureaucracy resolved contentious issues in the empire. We can be sure that Joseph and Stephania were relieved at the outcome of this debate, which could have threatened their plans for many years to come.
There were other kinds of news to be read about as well. Violence was rarely reported and, if mentioned, it was seldom with today’s attention to gruesome details. But occasionally there were exceptions, as when both local and national newspapers reported sensational crimes from nearby Old Bohorodczany, which we will visit later in our story. One man in this quiet village town, it was reported, fell gravely ill and asked that the neighbors be invited to hear his final good-byes. When they gathered, he garnered his strength and insisted on having a “last” game of cards. This turned out to be quite an unusual game; as it was not going to his liking, the “frail” man grabbed an axe and managed to decapitate one of the guests.26
WHEN THE REGIEC FAMILY moved to Stanislawow, they settled in a spacious apartment at 1 St. Joseph Street. This recently completed building was conveniently situated within walking distance of a number of schools and the city center. In the summer of 1901, my grandmother, Helena, graduated from Queen Sophia’s Middle School. For most 14-year-old girls, this would have marked the end of education. But Helena would continue to an all-women teachers’ school, the equivalent of today’s high school and junior college. She
was considered lucky for at least two reasons. Perhaps Joseph and Stephania Regiec had been influenced by the successful career of Helena’s aunt in Nowy Sacz, or perhaps they just saw the opportunity to help their daughter become an independent woman; in any case, they belonged to a then small group of parents who encouraged the education of girls beyond simple skills. My grandmother was also fortunate to live in Stanislawow, which was one of only a few cities in Galicia to offer such education—the highest level of learning then available to young women.
Stanislawow. The women’s teachers’ school that opened in 1893. Helena Regiec graduated from this school in 1906.
Her new school had been established for less than a decade; it was under the able direction of Monsignor Franciscus Skarbowski, who ran a large institution by the standards of the time. Approximately 140 girls studied there for four years before taking final qualifying examinations. This education was not free, but the monthly tuition of up to 16 kronen (the equivalent of U.S. $85.00 today) was affordable.27 Girls who aspired to education beyond middle school but did not want to become teachers had to wait a few more years before a school for them would open in Stanislawow.
Map of Stanislawow. The city center with the Regiec family residence on St. Joseph Street and Joseph Regiec’s office on Karpinski Street. (Based on a map from 1904.)
In late fall of the same year, unscheduled vacations came along when Stanislawow’s schools closed for four weeks due to an epidemic of scarlet fever. Although the Regiec girls must have enjoyed this break, the city was clearly on edge. Scarlet fever was a highly contagious disease and still deadly in the absence of modern antibiotic therapy. Local apothecaries quickly advertised new home machines that were said to disinfect indoor air, for those who could afford such contraptions.28 Lists of those affected by the illness, with their home addresses, were published weekly, as if to warn everyone away from visiting those with the disease. Clearly, privacy laws and customs differed from those today. As luck would have it, no one in the Regiec household became ill, and with the arrival of colder weather, schools reopened.
Wanda, Helena’s younger sister, pursued a different type of education. Sometime during these first years in Stanislawow, she was enrolled in music school. Within a few years, she became a gifted pianist who, in due course, was repeatedly praised in the press for her talent. Surely, these references to Wanda’s performances, during annual gala concerts at the end of each academic year, would have made her parents proud.29
Looking at a town map from the period, we can easily trace Joseph Regiec’s daily routine. The walk from home to his office took no more than 20 minutes. This was surely a pleasant way to start the day; Stanislawow was considered a clean city with nice-looking streets.30 Just after leaving home, Joseph, no doubt wearing a suit and the customary hat, would turn right. On the opposite side of the street were a few stores, including one with famous glass products from Bohemia and another offering warm quilts for sale. St. Joseph Street was a short one, with no more than six buildings on each side of the street, so after a minute or two, Joseph would turn left onto the much larger Sapiezynska Street, lined with numerous shops. This was considered a perfect place for shopping, meeting friends, or just watching others. By evening, the entire stretch of that street, from the apothecary on one end to Karlsbad’s porcelain store on the other, would become the city promenade, with men and women enjoying a leisurely walk. Some gentlemen would comment, only half-jokingly, about having a busy time with repeated tipping of their hats while strolling back and forth on Sapiezynska Street.31 Those with more time on their hands could stop to eat or drink and read a newspaper in one of the many cafes or confectioneries. On occasion, someone would lament that the waiters spoke German rather than Polish, and that too many Viennese newspapers were offered, but for the multilingual city, this was the reality.32
Stanislawow. Sapiezynska Street, the place to shop and stroll. (Postcard from the early twentieth century.)
On weekday mornings, however, Joseph would not have had time to linger. Instead, he would walk toward the building of the Townsmen Bank and a few tailors’ establishments with fine fabrics, in sight just ahead. At the first intersection, he would turn right onto Jachowicza Street. There were two schools along his path and, on most mornings, boys and girls in their mandatory school uniforms would have been rushing past Joseph to get to their separate schools on time. After cutting through a small square with a statue of a poet in the middle, he would approach two small synagogues. Just a few more steps through Potocki Square, bearing the name of the city founder, and Joseph Regiec would have arrived at the entrance of his office, facing busy Karpinski Street.
Stanislawow. Jachowicza Street, with buildings housing high schools and an insurance company. (Postcard from the early twentieth century.)
Stanislawow. Mickiewicz Square, with the towers of the Greek Catholic church and City Hall seen in the background. (Postcard from the early twentieth century.)
On the building’s street level were upscale stores: one with Swiss watches and another selling binoculars and microscopes. On the opposite side, an open market, an apothecary, and a few other stores could be seen. The railway administration headquarters were on the square, at the site of old city fortifications. The large building had been designed in Vienna but built by a construction company from Lvov. When completed, it had been leased to the railways for the next 20 years, earning a healthy profit for the city. My great-grandfather would work there at various administrative positions for the next several years.33
The first years in the city were surely exciting for all members of the Regiec family. Stanislawow offered various types of entertainment that Joseph, Stephania, and the girls had never had the opportunity to enjoy before. In 1902, a famous Viennese orchestra directed by one of the members of the musical Strauss family gave concerts in the city, albeit to mixed reviews. The public loved the sound and rhythm of the famous waltzes, especially An der schönen blauen Donau, although a local newspaper critic was quite upset with Maestro Strauss’s undignified jumps up and down, with violin in hand, while directing the orchestra. In a scolding tone, the paper would mention that such behavior on stage might have been appropriate for Vienna, but not for properly behaving Stanislawow.34
There was no permanent dramatic company in Stanislawow, but the city was frequently visited by touring actors from Lvov or Vienna, and even by more exotic troupes from as far away as Japan. Dramatic and musical performances by amateur players were also common on the local stage. On such occasions, artistic tastes and prevailing fashion trends often collided with remarkable ferocity. Not uncommonly, post-performance reviews decried, “LADIES, HAVE MERCY.” But this was not about the talents of female actors. Instead, theater goers were complaining of the giant hats worn by the fashionable women of Stanislawow, which made watching a play or concert a strenuous exercise of neck muscles for those seated behind them. Men remarked on the wall of “colossal hats” resembling, in their words, “a hedge or a collection of flora from various climates.” When the appeals to women to either take off their hats in the theater or purchase more expensive seats in the theater boxes went unheeded, some frustrated male theatergoers threatened to publish the names of the ladies who stubbornly wore such gigantic arrangements on their heads.35
Stanislawow. A picture of the theater building, which was erected in 1891. In later years, Wanda Regiec had her musical performances there. At times, the offices downstairs were rented (the sign over the entrance reads, “Trade School”). On the opposite site, the Reform synagogue is visible. (Postcard from the early twentieth century.)
Theatergoers. Fashionable, huge hats worn by women were the subject of frequent complaints by those trying to watch performances from behind. (Die Muskete July 12, 1906; ŐNB, Vienna.)
It is safe to assume that the young sisters, Helena and Wanda, were more likely interested in seeing a popular Fotoplastikum that showed images from around the world. These shows, an hour long, included three-dimensional p
ictures viewed by guests staring into a special apparatus. Before and after the shows, patrons relaxed in a comfortable waiting room lit by gas lamps, making comments that the views were so realistic that you could almost hear the sounds of those faraway places. Every week, a new show was introduced, and with a bit of imagination, we can envision the Regiecs among the audience when highly recommended shows about Philadelphia or New York City were on display.36
Newspaper advertisements for Fotoplastikum show (top) fifty pictures from Philadelphia, Baltimore, and Washington D.C.; (middle) “sightseeing” of the World’s Fair in Chicago; and (bottom) sightseeing of New York [City] (as described in the ad, “the capital of the New World and the heart of American culture”). (Kurjer Stanislawowski 1903, 1904.)
Soon, other innovations arrived. The first of these, a so-called “electric theater” or cinematograph, started presenting short moving pictures on occasional visits to the city. In the summer months of 1905, two showings a week were given outdoors; these were described without much enthusiasm in the local press as “in focus and interesting.”37 By 1907, the first permanent movie theater, able to hold up to 200 patrons, had opened on elegant Sapiezynska Street. This was the first theater in all of Galicia to show the new invention, silent movies.38 In just a few years, three movie theaters were operating in town; a weekly dose of these pictures was available to those interested. The films were received from Vienna after review by censors. They had to first pass a rather benign police review, and then be rated by the much stricter Viennese School Commission, which considered their appropriateness for younger audiences. The ratings were then made public, and subtitles in local languages were added. Not surprisingly, pictures deemed risqué were soon the most popular.39