We have grown so accustomed to the clock on the town hall that we hardly notice it anymore. It is simply there—because how could it be otherwise? Only sometimes, if the clock stops and shows the wrong time, we mutter under our breath: “Has it gone crazy or what?” But it has not gone crazy; birds unexpectedly built a nest inside the clock mechanism, blocking it.
But an ordinary passer-by does not know this, because how would they? Only Mr. Adam Kowalski knows, patiently and understandingly removing the causes of breakdowns, like a mother changing her child’s diaper. “Everything will be fine in a moment,” he says quietly to himself, and indeed—the clock soon runs as if nothing had happened. As if it had forgotten the whole story.
And as for the town hall clock in 1945, this is what happened: its face was pierced by a sizeable shell.
The first postwar mayor of Bolesławiec, Bolesław Kubik, did not manage to start the clock. He died tragically, and today only a street remains named after him.
The next mayor, Jan Franczak, reached an agreement with craftsmen already organized in the Guild of Various Crafts, and somehow the craftsmen got the clock running. The clock began to work, but what kind of working was it?
Mr. Kowalski did not yet have enough time for the clock: he had been entrusted with starting up the foundries on Polna Street.
But in the mid-1970s he could stand it no longer. When the tower renovation was nearing completion, he went to the then first secretary, Ryszard Awłasewlcza, and said: what good will it do for the tower and town hall to be renovated? And the clock? What kind of town hall is it without a clock? “Then take care of it, Kowalski, and we will help you,” the first secretary said—and the word “help” was very fashionable at the time. The clock was dismantled by specialists from the “ampoules” plant, and the entire operation, thanks to the goodwill of the then director Adolf Ziółkowski, took place at “Polfa.” There was a lot of work—three full months.
Corroded parts had to be recreated and the entire mechanisms washed. “Polfa” provided the clock with new stainless-steel sheets for the faces, while “Elektronika” supplied copper numerals. The chief surgeon of this extraordinary operation was, of course, Mr. Adam, bustling around the clock from the early morning until the end of his shift.
After three months, the clock returned to the town hall tower, but this still did not satisfy Mr. Kowalski.
Because what kind of town hall clock does not strike the hours? There were no bells or gong in the tower, but what is ingenuity for? Mr. Adam learned that the Jelenia Góra telecommunications office had an old amplifier “available for disposal,” the size of an average chest of drawers, plus four speakers. He obtained the equipment and dragged it all up to the tower. Then he brought a striking wall clock from home and connected a microphone. And so the clock struck the hours, and even the quarter-hours.
People thought it was the town hall clock, but it was Mr. Kowalski’s wall clock, striking into the microphone. But that was not the end. For complete happiness, a bugle call from the town hall tower was still missing. St. Mary’s Tower in Kraków has its own bugle call, so why could Bolesławiec not have one?
The bugle call was composed by Józef Dolecki (Jozo). Trumpeters from the brass orchestra at the “Chemik” club recorded it on magnetic tape, and Mr. Adam played it after the twelve strokes through the aforementioned amplifier. Visitors stopped in the market square, craned their necks upward and said, “Well, well!” And Mr. Kowalska prayed to God that the magnetic tape would not snap because of the various weather conditions, and that his wall clock would not start striking the hour a few minutes early. Everything had to be watched carefully. And so it continued until the next tower renovation, sometime in the early 1980s. After the renovation, Mr. Kowalski started the clock again (which still runs today), but there was no point in taking the old, dilapidated sound equipment back up to the tower, nor the tape recorder with the bugle call (if the clock does not strike the hours, the bugle call is unnecessary too).
For some time, Mr. Kowalski also tried to have bells cast for striking the hours. He collected copper and suitable scrap metal, but the casting did not meet expectations and lacked what bell-founding craftsmanship calls a proper tone. Apparently, after the comprehensive renovation of the town hall, the city authorities intend to provide the tower with a proper bell. A competition for a bugle call is also to be announced, although it would also be possible to return to the existing one.
And that is all there is to say about the clock and its longtime caretaker. Perhaps, to conclude, a few words about the heroes mentioned in the title. First the clock, because it is older: the date 1885 appears on it, and it was made by C. Weiss in Gr. Glogau (Greater Głogów?). It weighs 1.5 tons! The clock has a mechanism for striking the hours and quarter-hours. It is wound by raising three weights, each weighing 120 kg.
Mr. Adam Kowalski is somewhat younger. He was born on December 24, 1907. He will therefore turn 85 this month! He is an active member of the Bolesławiec Enthusiasts’ Society, as well as a member, co-organizer and founder of the Bolesławiec Circle of the Association of Friends of the Drohobych Region. For many, many years he has climbed the town hall tower, maintained and “nudged” the clock that we have become so accustomed to that we hardly notice it. Mr. Adam Kowalski does many other useful things for the city as well: among other things, he photographs and supplies our “Głos” with pictures of historic monuments, maintains contacts with Poles in Ukraine, and so on.
On the occasion of his birthday and name day, we wish Mr. Adam good health and unfading enthusiasm for working on behalf of the city.