Map of Galicia. The life journey of Stephania Lösch Regiec (born in Biecz) and Joseph Regiec (born in Roztoka).
With the passing of her mother, Stephania no longer had any reason for living apart from her husband. Fortuitously, around that time, Joseph was promoted to a position in the Department of Revenues in the Directorate of Railway Administration. For the Regiec girls and their mother, it was equally exciting that the office was located in the city of Stanislawow, a town that offered many opportunities for the family. As before, without Joseph’s personal drive and his eagerness to take chances, the next part of this story would not have happened.
WHEN, LATER IN LIFE, MY grandmother was asked where she was from, her answer was always, without hesitation, “Stanislawow.” Although the Regiec family moved there when Helena was in her early teens, this was the town where she went to high school, made her first plans toward adult life, and later kept returning with her young daughter. Even when going back was no longer possible, she maintained a special bond with Stanislawow through correspondence with her younger sister, Wanda, who remained there for several decades to come. But these are stories that we will touch on a bit later.
When the Regiecs moved there in 1900, Stanislawow (Stanislau in German, Станиславів in Ruthenian, Stanislaopolis in Latin) was considered a desirable place to live in Galicia; it ranked just behind the somewhat rundown but historic Cracow and Galicia’s vibrant multicultural capital, Lvov. Like many places in that part of the world, its long history blended facts with myths. Stanislawow had grown from a village on a large estate of the Potocki family (an old aristocratic line in the Kingdom of Poland). Initially, this nondescript village became a simple fort, surrounded by defensive walls constructed of tree trunks. These were built to defend the population against repeated attacks by Tatars, Ottoman Turks, and other invaders from the east. In 1662, the settlement became a town that was most likely named by its founder, Count Andreas Potocki, after his young son, Stanislaw (Stanislau). Soon thereafter, the name “Stanislawow” could be found in an edict issued by the Polish king, Casmir the Great; in the writings of a foreign traveler passing through the area; and in many documents issued by its founder, Count Potocki.1 But the origins of places are usually subject to more than one explanation, and this was true for Stanislawow. Later some argued that the town had been named in honor of Andreas’s father, also called Stanislaw, who was a viceroy of these lands. In any case, the older Potocki, a man hardened in numerous battles, was known to frequently repeat the Latin phrase re vera (in truth); hence, the town also acquired the honorific description “The Stronghold of Revera.”2
From its inception, Stanislawow was a multicultural place. Initially, Count Potocki issued an edict permitting Poles, Ruthenians, and Jews to settle within the town walls, and decreed the right of each group to govern its internal affairs. Soon, small groups of Armenians, Hungarians, and Germans had moved there as well. Armenians, in particular, would be remembered in the town with remarkable fondness. Perhaps warm memories of them reflected the gratitude of the townspeople, because the Armenians had often acted as intermediaries to gain release of hostages taken by the Asian invaders who frequently pillaged these lands.
But for the most part, townspeople looked back on the Armenians as large-scale, colorful merchants, who on occasion traveled to the steppes surrounding the Black Sea, leasing land for a dozen or so years to raise cattle and horses. They were true cowboys long before their counterparts in the American West earned their fame. In a ritual that would be remembered for generations, the Armenians ran herds of steppe-raised cattle and horses west through Bukovina and Galicia to destinations in Austria and Germany. These were operations on a massive scale; a merchant once reportedly delivered an astounding 19,000 horses to a Bavarian court. Upon returning home to Stanislawow, these traders would bring gold, silver, and pearls. Then they would stay for a few years with their families, attending to local businesses of leathermaking or the grain trade, before going east again.3
A description by a Dutch visitor passing through the region gives us a glimpse of early Stanislawow. The wooden castle of the Potocki family, churches of various denominations, a synagogue, and a school of higher learning with five professors all come to light in this report from 1672.4 However, good stories were mixed with bad. During the next hundred years, Stanislawow suffered at the hands of foreign invaders; Tatar and Russian armies on a few occasions breached the defensive walls and plundered the city. To make matters worse, Stanislawow also suffered from the internal squabbles that plagued the eighteenth-century Kingdom of Poland.5
With the first partition of Poland in 1772, the city became part of the Kingdom of Galicia and Lodomeria. The new rulers in Vienna quickly abolished some antiquated ethnic- and community-based ways of resolving local conflicts, by establishing a common civil administration for all citizens of the city. Edicts issued in the name of the empress Maria Theresa flooded the land. Everything seemed to be touched by the new administration, from rulings requiring an oath of allegiance to the new sovereign, to detailed instructions as to how the courts should function, to pronouncements that sound exotic today—such as those forbidding citizens to resolve their disputes through duels. At least on paper, there were even to be free public lectures in German and Polish for those wishing to learn about medicine, surgery, and midwifery.6
With the death of Maria Theresa in 1780, her son became the undisputed ruler of all her lands. He continued with even greater vigor to remake the country. In 1782, not long after his ascension, the emperor Joseph II visited Stanislawow. The heiress of the Potocki family, Catharina Kossakowska, greeted the emperor in richly decorated apartments in the castle. For the next three days, for reasons that are shrouded in mystery, the emperor chose to have his headquarters in the home of a Jewish family rather than in the more opulent castle.7 But let us not forget that Joseph II was a prolific reformer and often a social contrarian when dealing with Jews or the Catholic Church, once he no longer felt constrained by his more conservative mother.
Map of Stanislawow in the early 1800s. The spread of the city beyond fortification walls is evident. (Based on a map from Kriegsarchiv in Vienna.)
Despite what was viewed as a successful visit, strong-willed Catharina Kossakowska quickly ran into troubles with less prominent Austrians. The next few years brought frequent disputes with local government officials steadily chipping away at her rights as the owner of Stanislawow. In a game of tit for tat, when the military once requested delivery of a small supply of lumber from her dominion, she refused. Instead, the feisty heiress promised, tongue in cheek, to donate the entire forest if the purpose was to build gallows for nagging bureaucrats. Verbal skirmishes, however, could not prevent the unavoidable from happening when Catharina ran out of money. In a letter to a relative, she summed up her situation with usual flair: “I gave away Stanislawow and I am moving from Halychyna [the name of the region]. Oh! Damn it! I wish the lightning strikes down on my nemesis. Sincere good-bye.”8
By 1801, the aristocratic Potocki family was no longer able to manage Stanislawow and the large nearby landholdings on its own. A map from the period shows the castle and the inner city surrounded by defensive walls, with the main entrances (the Halicka and Tysmienicka gates) and the smaller Armenian Gate used by pedestrians. But the town’s expansion beyond the city walls was clearly visible, signaling the need for further change. Ultimately, Stanislawow and the Potockis’ lands were bought by the Austrian government, and the modern era of the city began. Within a few years, the castle had been converted to a hospital, and the defense fortifications were demolished. With the instability of the region receding and the quarrels among major powers in the area settled (at least for a while), the moats, no longer needed to thwart invasions, were filled with stones and dirt, allowing the city streets to expand.
Stanislawow. The aftermath of the big fire of 1868. (Postcard from the nineteenth century.)
There were, however, problems plaguing the
city that even the new administration could not prevent. Fires erupted repeatedly in Stanislawow over the next decades. The worst struck the city with devastating force in September 1868 when, under innocent circumstances, a blaze started one early afternoon on Lipowa Street. During the annual ritual of making preserves for the winter, an open flame had been used in a small backyard. Suddenly, a strong gust of wind spread a fire that would ultimately consume the entire downtown, including City Hall, an old Armenian church, two synagogues, and many other surrounding buildings.9 With fires still smoldering late into the night, the first counts of the losses were shocking. Ultimately, 260 buildings were found to have been destroyed. Many people, now homeless, gathered in an empty market square to escape burns or choking fumes.
Almost immediately, the magnitude of this calamity raised doubts as to whether Stanislawow could ever be rebuilt. By November of the same year, however, the national diet had guaranteed a large loan for the reconstruction. The central government in Vienna followed suit and created a special lottery, with proceeds reserved for payment of the city’s debt. Over the years, there would be other signs of support. A visit—albeit a mere stop with speeches at the train station—by the emperor Franz Joseph reassured residents still wondering whether the town would regain its prior status. The emperor, speaking in French, inquired about local affairs, startling those greeting him with questions about the workload of Stanislawow’s courts. But regardless of the topic of conversation on the platform, for the reported 3,000 spectators who gathered around the train station, Franz Joseph’s visit seemed to be the best evidence that their town was not forgotten.10
Stanislawow. New City Hall after its construction was completed in 1872. (Postcard from the nineteenth century.)
Over the next few years and then decades, a city of wider streets, with stylish public buildings designed by Galician and Viennese architects, would slowly emerge, adding to the architectural originality of the reborn Stanislawow. Construction soon began in the town’s center on one of the first Reform synagogues in Galicia. Its model, based on a design by a Viennese architect, was prominently displayed in the window of a local bookstore, arousing public interest. From time to time, the press reported on accidental findings during construction, which included a few ancient human bones and a foundation stone covered with old Cyrillic letters placed there more than two hundred years before. Once completed, the synagogue would be an impressive building with towers rising at the four corners of the Templum, topped by cupolas.11 There were renovations of churches, including the Roman Catholic collegiate, the Greek Catholic cathedral, and the blue-roofed Armenian church. A new City Hall with a high tower was built; its picture would become a hallmark of early postcards with greetings from the town. A period of modernization followed, with Stanislawow becoming the first city in Galicia to begin installation of gas street lamps, in 1876. By the time the Regiec family arrived in 1900, modern street lighting covered almost the entire city. With thinly veiled satisfaction, a local paper proudly reminded its readers that in contrast to Stanislawow, in some parts of Lvov, antiquated kerosene street lanterns were still in use!12
Further to the south, the city laid out new parks where families could stroll while military bands entertained with Viennese waltzes or Hungarian marches. In the summer, these parks were the places to see and be seen. A local reporter described smartly dressed young men there wearing fashionable Panama hats and high, starched collars; my grandmother later remembered that the latter were jokingly called “vater mörder” (father’s murderer) in German. I wonder if she heard occasional complaints from her father, Joseph Regiec, at putting such stiff contraptions around his neck. In any case, the men strolled, holding box-like cameras in one hand and decorative walking canes in the other, with ladies walking a few steps behind in long dresses with trailing trains. Such photo opportunities were ones that nobody wanted to miss. From time to time, young boys in their then-popular navy outfits caused mischief by stepping on the women’s trains. Less “urbane” ladies, as the story was told, could easily be spotted wearing skirts that just covered the knees, with scarves on their heads instead of the more fashionable hats.13
Stanislawow. One of many city parks. (Postcard from the early twentieth century.)
By the beginning of the twentieth century, Stanislawow was gaining a reputation as a healthy place to live. The town boasted low rates of tuberculosis, the disease that ravaged the lives of many in Galicia’s crowded cities. For those who required medical care, there was a choice of 37 physicians, who often saw patients from their own homes; but it would not be until 1918 that the first woman opened a medical practice in Stanislawow. A public hospital employed 5 doctors and 10 nurses, who were quite busy, reportedly performing over 1,000 surgeries per year. With medical practice quite different than it is today, the average hospital stay of 21 days was considered short! It may come as a shock to us now, but when the hospital became full, less-ill patients were required to share beds. Apothecaries in the town prepared mostly herbal medicines but were also required always to keep fresh supplies of leeches for medicinal emergencies.14
The photographic camera frequently advertised in the early 1900s. (Sport & Salon April 1, 1905; ŐNB, Vienna.)
Most of all, Stanislawow was busy with trade and manufacturing businesses connected to agriculture, the leather industry, and fine ceramics. Business, government affairs, and frequent military inspections were bringing in more than 5,000 travelers a year, who would register at one of several fine hotels in the city. The best was the Union Hotel, with its 35 rooms generally reserved for dignitaries or the rich and famous of the day, who could afford to pay for reportedly impeccable service and accommodations with private baths.15
Among the citizens of the town, Jews always played a unique role. With the passage of time, they became an important force in commerce, ultimately replacing the Armenian community in dominating trade. When the Regiecs settled there, most local craftsmen were already Jewish. This group formed the majority of the population in the downtown area, where they owned real estate, retail stores, and a number of larger enterprises engaged in wholesale trade. The Jews’ relationship with Poles, who sometimes lamented a somewhat imaginary loss of influence in business, was not always easy; but for the most part, it was free of the open anti-Semitic hostility that flared up on occasion in other parts of Galicia.
Stanislawow. A view of the Reform synagogue, which as completed in 1899. (Postcard from the early twentieth century.)
Several distinguished Jewish families resided in Stanislawow, including a long line of Horowitzes. Generation after generation, members of that family held influential positions in the rabbinate of Stanislawow. Another highly regarded family went by the name of Halpern; they were recognized for their charitable work and support of local development. Among their contributions, the Halperns established the Jewish hospital and founded other institutions, including those for the general public, such as the first theater building. Several mutual aid societies were helped by the Halperns’ generosity in assisting the poor of Stanislawow, including citizens of all faiths. At times, this aid included free meals, dowries for poor Jewish brides, and subsidized wood for heating homes. Equally remarkable is that the Halperns were early organizers of charitable activities on a global scale, providing help to Jewish families escaping repression in tsarist Russia, and establishing an orphanage in Stanislawow with not only their own money but an endowment they had secured from German Jews.
To a large extent, the Jewish community of Stanislawow was spared from the sort of disruptive internal disputes between Orthodox Hasidic leaders that were common in other towns of Galicia. In the latter part of the nineteenth century, Stanislawow had a large Maskilin movement, with its secular Jewish members advocating full integration into society. From time to time, the city would host meetings of Zionist organizations arguing, for instance, against Jewish emigration to Uganda or in favor of Palestine’s remaining under Ottoman rule. Increasingly, local high school
graduates were from Jewish families, a noteworthy fact since finishing school was an unusual accomplishment in the life of a young person at the time. On rare occasion, the Yiddish weekly advocated the opening of a separate high school for Jewish children, with German and Hebrew language instruction; but for the most part, these appeals did not receive much support from the Jewish majority of Stanislawow.16
Jews not only played visible roles in trade-related occupations, they were also noted members of other professions, such as medicine and law. From the end of the nineteenth century, they gained a presence in local government. Among these, the most notable was Dr. Arthur Nimhin. As a young lawyer, he cofounded and then edited a successful weekly paper before going into politics. Focused on debating ideas rather than attacking the motives of those with opposing views, Nimhin clearly saw the future of the Jewish majority in Stanislawow as fully integrated into the political life of Galicia. In 1896, he became the city’s mayor, and despite the quarrelsome nature of city politics (which were no different in Stanislawow than anywhere else), he ran the city for more than two decades. He was a cautious but effective administrator who was able to produce budget surpluses, an uncommon feat for any city mayor. Less prone to the rhetorical exaggeration common in politics, and more of a technocrat, he must have been doing something right. Nimhin would continue in his post through the upheavals of World War I some years later. His ability to increase investment in parks, street paving, and school buildings without adding to local taxes or resorting to budgetary gimmicks was mentioned by the press as far away as the Galician capital of Lvov.17
Galician Trails: The Forgotten Story of One Family Page 8