When Bolesławiec was slowly rising from the ruins in 1945, one street, Katholische Kirchplatz, immediately gained special significance. The small street connected what was most important in the city: the church, bakery, printing house and ordinary people’s homes. Today it is called Kościelna. In 1945, it was one of the first streets in the city to receive a Polish name. At that time, it was called 3 Maja Street.
Its story is not only about changing signs. Above all, it is a story about people who, despite the ruins, poverty and political upheavals, tried to live normal lives.
Under one roof: the presbytery and the parish priest who was taken away
The most important point on the map of 3 Maja Street was, and still is, the Church of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary and St. Nicholas. After the war, it was the only Catholic church in all of Bolesławiec, so everyone came there—both newcomers from the East and Germans who had remained in the city.
During the first months after the war, it was cared for by the former German parish priest, Father Paul Sauer. He could count on the trust of the faithful, but not on the goodwill of the new authorities. In February 1946, the Security Office arrested him on suspicion of espionage. He was replaced by Father Andrzej Gromadzki, who took over not only the parish but also the presbytery—the same tenement at number 1 that still stands today.
From the beginning, Gromadzki had to cope with a difficult situation. There were not enough people to work, and Erich Schimmer, a German church caretaker who knew every corner of the church, had been serving in the parish for years. When mass expulsions began in 1947, the priest wrote to the authorities asking them to postpone Schimmer’s departure, along with that of his family. He knew that without him the church simply would not function.
45 kilograms of bread instead of 720
A little farther on, at number 7, Stanisław Brzozowski began his business. He opened the first Polish confectionery in Bolesławiec. It still operates in the same place today—although probably few customers realize that, when cutting a cake there today, they are sitting in a premises with a history dating back to 1946.
But before Brzozowski got his business up and running, the same premises housed Piekarnia Polska, run by Jan Szyda—one of the first Polish bakers in the city. In February 1946, only one oven was operating in the bakery. Under normal conditions, it could bake 720 kilograms of bread a day. Szyda was able to produce a maximum of 45 kilograms. Not because he lacked the skill—there was simply a shortage of flour, fuel and everything else needed for baking in the devastated city. In Bolesławiec, which was preparing for a population exchange and still lacked basic products, no one had the right to complain about it.
The printing house that connected the city
A very important place not only for this street but also for the entire region was the State Printing House at number 5. It was located in the former Günther Printing House and headed by Eugeniusz Osiplak. Official announcements and notices were printed there—at a time when there was no internet or local press, they were the main source of information about what was happening in the city.
Nine people worked in the printing house. Among them, until autumn 1946, was the German typesetter Alfred Born. Mass expulsions of Germans from Bolesławiec County had already been under way since June, but Born stayed through all the main transports. Why? Because no Pole who knew how to do the job could be found to replace him.
Blacksmiths, a shoemaker and a church caretaker—in other words, who else stayed
Specialists were lacking not only in printing. As late as 1947, two German blacksmiths—Bruno Seidel and Richard Hackenberg—lived on 3 Maja Street. They were employed as specialists essential to rebuilding the bridge over the Bóbr. Without them, the bridge would not have been completed on time.
Even Father Gromadzki, the new Polish parish priest, realized that the parish could not manage without the Germans’ help. On 5 March 1947, he sent a short letter to the city authorities asking them to delay the expulsion of Erich Schimmer, his church caretaker, for as long as possible, along with his entire family.
That same day, the Bolesławiec Railway Workers’ Union sent a similar letter. The railway workers wanted the city to retain the German shoemaker Franz Baum, who lived at 2 3 Maja Street and mended the shoes of the entire staff.
A change of name—and the end of an era
Stalinism was deepening in Poland with each passing month, and for the communist regime, celebrating the anniversary of the adoption of the Constitution of 3 May was absolutely unacceptable. Celebrations were banned, and so 3 Maja Street in Bolesławiec had to disappear. It was renamed Dąbrowszczaków Street (the name Stalingradzka was also used temporarily).
After 1989, when Poland regained full sovereignty, the street was restored to its historical name—Kościelna. Today, walking along it, it is difficult to imagine that such important scenes from Bolesławiec’s post-war history unfolded along this short stretch. The church still stands. The confectionery is still operating. Tenement number 1 is still a presbytery. Only the name changed—and that happened several times.
But the people who shaped this street—Polish and German bakers, printers, blacksmiths and parish priests—showed that in difficult times even a divided city can function if people are able to cooperate with one another. Even against the backdrop of grand politics.