Poland and the American West

In Indedpendence, Missouri, On March 12, 1999, Bronislaw Geremek, the Polish Minister for Foreign Affairs, concluded a speech celebrating Poland's entry into NATO by saying: "We have brought from Poland some records of history of our road to freedom, among them -- the poster of the 1989 elections with a picture of Gary Cooper from the film High Noon. It helped us to win. For the people of Poland, high noon comes today."

Tomasz Sarnecki had transformed a publicity still of Cooper striding down the street in the famous film into a campaign poster designed for the crucial 1989 elections, which had helped to bring the outlawed Solidarity and its leader, Lech Walesa, to power. Significantly in the new version, Cooper clutches in his right hand a folded ballot and sports the Solidarnosc logo above his sheriff's badge. The logo is also emblazoned in red across the poster behind Cooper's head. The message at the bottom is short and to the point: W Samo Poludnie, 4 Czerwca 1989 "It's High Noon, June 4, 1989." (Plate 42)

On the eve of balloting, the Sarnecki poster was displayed all over Poland. There was hardly a polling place that did not have it -- although now it is almost impossible to find a copy since it has become a valued memento. Another poster that summoned people to vote for Solidarity in that crucial election featured a clock, the hands fixed on the approaching noon hour. It was clearly related to High Noon for it was in that film that a clock's inexorable movement became the driving force for the confrontation. In some polling places a poster displayed an alarm clock with a reminder: "Don't sleep because they will outvote you." (figure 5)

High Noon, first released in Poland seven years after its American premiere, was shown several times since 1959. Although different posters were designed for the film, (Marian Stachurski designed the original poster in 1959, followed by Grzegorz Marszalek in 1987), (see Plate 103, and Plate 157) all of them displayed the heroic figure of the sheriff. Obviously there was something in this one man's act of courage and sense of honor that appealed to Polish people. A population frightened and cowed into submission identified with someone who overcame fear and fought against all odds. In its long analysis of that crucial election Rzeczpospolita concluded: "Solidarity's list of virtues had in it something of a Western." Indeed, an American Western was an apt symbol for a political duel that was the beginning of the end for Communism in Eastern Europe. Gary Cooper would have approved.

Ironically, almost a decade before Gary Cooper's poster was pasted up on walls and kiosks of Polish cities, the Polish Communist leaders and their patrons in Moscow launched a campaign to compare America to a different version of a "Western." They dubbed President-elect Reagan a "reckless cowboy," and questioned "just what the new cowboy in the White House would do." Polish posters appeared with variations on this theme. In 1982, a dark and sinister poster by an unknown artist purported to advertise a movie titled The World and the American Way produced by and starring Reagan, pictured in cowboy gear. (Plate 44).

Another of the anti-American posters of the early 1980's traced the voyage of Columbus from Spain to the New World and featured a telegram addressed to Reagan. It said: "Now why did I have to discover America?" It was signed: "Christopher Columbus." The Polish Communist poster posed a question that has confounded many since the first colonists arrived on America's shores. Even those who saw America as a beacon of hope for mankind could not ignore the displacement of the indigenous population, or the bloody conflict over slavery. Long before the Cold War controversies Americans themselves had confronted the many meanings of Columbus' voyages and the continental expansion that followed.

It could be argued that America's relationship with its expanding frontiers has defined our history. Conquest of territory and native peoples played a vital role on the development of a national identity. America has refashioned this theme in myriad ways. The expansionist rationale and the mythology that accompanied it have been deemed inevitable. President Theodore Roosevelt, who enjoyed celebrating heroes of the West, asserted that the United States had no choice: geography and history had made her leadership in the world unavoidable. The only question was how well America would discharge her mission.

Peter Schweizer's Victory: The Reagan Administration's Secret Strategy that Hastened the Collapse of the Soviet Union, provides us with invaluable history of a President who sought to hasten the end of a system he once called "an evil empire." Schweizer describes this as "the greatest geopolitical event since the end of the Second World War." The story reads like a movie script. An American President with the help of William Casey, the adventurous head of the C.I.A. aided by a Polish-born National Security Adviser Zbigniew Brzezinski and a Polish Pope, John Paul II, not only elevated Solidarity to the leadership of Poland but brought about the end of an empire considered until then a superpower. Schweizer identifies a global strategy in which a succession of Russian leaders from Leonid Brezhnev to Mikhail Gorbachev were outmaneuvered by the American "cowboy" until the Polish leader General Wojciech Jaruzelski, who had imposed Martial Law on his countrymen in December 1981, agreed to hold national elections in 1989.[1]

Michael Dobbs in his Down with the Big Brother:The Fall of the Soviet Empire, has commented on the importance of posters in that election. Each of the candidates opposed to the Communist government had their photo taken with the leader of Solidarity, Lech Walesa, for use in campaign posters. But, as Dobbs put it, the most famous poster of all was yet to come. "Shortly before the election Solidarity designed a final campaign poster that summarized what was at stake after forty-four years of uninterrupted Communist rule. It was a photo of the actor Gary Cooper in full cowboy regalia." The election results stunned everyone and even though General Jaruzelski continued as President, Solidarity was transformed from an outlaw to a government. Like Gorbachev, the Polish Communists thought they could control the elections by turning on a faucet only to be confronted by a rushing river. The guys in white hats won. [2]

I visited Warsaw in November 1989, a time filled with expectations that followed the electoral victory of the previous June. One of the artists I came to interview urged me to see the exhibit Labirynt held in an unfinished church in the Warsaw suburb of Ursynow. He knew of my interest in Polish posters. "See it," he urged me, "it will tell you why our poster art is so different." The floor of the church was a maze of passageways, some barely wide enough to allow a person to pass. The walls were covered with thousands of images. Faces of brides and grooms from the nineteenth century, children dressed for communion, Hasidic youths bowing in prayer, craftsmen at work, the sick in hospitals and places of the dead -- many, many dead. For Poland's history is not only studied but exhumed. At Labirynt there were photographs of newly discovered mass graves side by side with old burial sites. Throughout the exhibit there were small, chapel-like alcoves where artists assembled the found objects of that impoverished country. The final assemblage was most moving. In a tiny room faith was reduced to a single symbol, a loaf of bread in the middle of a crude table. The effect of so many photographs and simple domestic mementos was staggering. The age of lies has left a terrible void. Where the beliefs of millions had been shattered, the realm of things acquired a truth of its own. In Poland perhaps more so than in any other country, a land whose soil has absorbed the blood and ashes of millions of innocents, the veneration of photographs and symbols has assumed a quality of deep spirituality. No one who has seen the tortured images on the posters of Franciszek Starowiejski can doubt the influence that this century's cataclysmic events had on Poland's artists.

The American West came to Poland with its own universally recognized symbols-the cowboy hat, the boots, the horse, the sheriff's star and the revolver. Its remarkable history had already been reduced to a convenient set of icons. Polish poster artists, sensitive to the power of symbols, enthusiastically adopted Western iconography. Recognition saved time and space. Colt, Winchester or Stetson immediately placed the poster geographically and historically in the Old West. But Western symbols also brought associated ideas. This was America in microcosm. Polish poster artists might incorporate the West's symbols into their work, but they need not subscribe to the myth. The story could be reinterpreted and messages added. The revolver, classic symbol of the "winning of the West," could become a weapon of mass destruction, and its bearer, a cold-blooded killer. The cowboy, American hero though he might be, could represent one of Stalin's henchmen. The cavalry could become Cossacks or Nazi thugs. The Polish viewer familiar with seeing and interpreting symbols would find meaning in the artists' Western posters. The message found its way to the street.

Shortly after my visit to the Labirynt I became aware of another reason why Polish posters were so unique. I was still in Warsaw when Soviet monuments were being dismantled and busts and figures of Lenin and Stalin knocked off their pedestals all over Eastern Europe. The day before I was to leave Warsaw I read in a newspaper that the Mayor was proposing moving into storage the statue of Feliks Dzerzhinski, the founder of Soviet secret police and the man who invented state terrorism. It was explained, though no one believed it, that this was necessary for the construction of the Warsaw subway, a project that was begun before World War II! The statue had been the object of public scorn for some time. Students painted the nose and fingers different colors each week. When a friend phoned me that students were making their way to the statue and urged me not to miss this historical confrontation between a statue and a people, I grabbed my camera and tape recorder and hurried to the Square.

By the time I arrived a crowd of happy students had assembled. A young girl draped herself with a black shawl and mockingly placed a bunch of flowers at the base of the statue. Another student pried off the brass letters from the front so what read as the Duch, "soul" of the revolutionary movement, now with additional letters crayoned in spelled Dupa, "behind." Hand-painted posters were taped to the base of the statue. "Keep your hands off Felus," (a diminutive for Feliks), one poster proclaimed in mock tones. Another poster pleaded: " Felek, don't leave us." A third was signed by "The Association for the Defense of Feliks Dzerzhinski," the lettering resembling that in the famous Solidarnosc logo. These posters were made on the spot by students from the nearby School of Architecture and hand-painted on the reverse side of drafting sheets. I could not resist taking one of those improptu posters home. Here was an example of Polish poster-making at its best: impulsive and daring, with a wicked sense of humor. The Labirynt at the Ursynow Church with its iconography of suffering was one source for the tragic symbols that have characterized so many Polish posters. The playful defiance of authority as displayed by the students in Dzerzhinski Square was another.

The evening before I was to leave Poland, I sat with the well-known poster artist Jan Mlodozeniec in his living room and watched Lech Walesa give a speech to the joint session of U.S. Congress, only the third person in history to have this honor. The ovation lasted over ten minutes. Mlodozeniec and his wife were visibly moved. I remembered Mlodozeniec as one who loved to design posters for American Westerns, and when I bought my first poster collection from a young Polish student of film-making in New York he compared Mlodozeniec's style to that of a sheep rancher. He likened the artist's rough and angular paper-cut effect to the quick and precise snipping at wool-shearing time. His art also has the intensity and directness of a cartoon or a cinematic "cut" and seemed to me to draw its strength from an American model.

While the pattern in the United States was one of expansion without much regard for the native population or the boundaries of neighboring countries, Poland's' story was of diminishing space, increasing impoverishment and eventually loss of independence. Whereas violence in America's expansion westward gave rise to mythical heroes and accorded even outlaws a prominent place, in Poland opposition to foreign rule brought humiliation and martyrdom to its patriots. Poland saw itself increasingly as the "Christ of Nations," victimized by rapacious neighbors. And as America became the homer for a growing number of European immigrants, Poland saw its people depart in successive waves until its history came to be written in terms of emigrations.

While Poles might admire the rugged individualism associated with westward expansion, they could feel sympathy for those subjected to the process. They also could bear witness to the ravages of violence. Until the eighteenth century Poland was a major power in Europe, its territory extending from the Baltic to the Black Sea. This was to change dramatically. The internal squabbles of the Polish aristocracy led to the election of foreign rulers as kings of Poland. In 1772, after the First Partition, Poles lost 30 percent of their land and more than 33 percent of its population to neighboring Russia, Prussia and Austria. Like other oppressed nationalities, the Polish people looked more and more to newly independent America as a symbol of their own strugggle.

In an effort to strengthen their society, patriotic elements undertook to reform many of Poland's institutions and even modeled their great Constitution of May 3,1991 in part on that of the United States. But in spite of these reforms Poland succumbed to a Second Partition in 1793, and the Russian forces defeated the insurgent Poles. The Third Partition in 1795 signaled the end of the Polish state. In a world where national sovereignty was sacrosanct this was an unprecedented humiliation. American writers and its press praised Poland's struggles. Each of the abortive uprisings against Russia, those of 1830 and 1863, led to an outpouring of public sympathy and financial support for the Polish cause and resulted in an influx of refugees. Many of these Poles were scattered throughout the country, as far West as Ohio. The press was filled with accounts of Russian perfidy and Polish bravery.

Jacksonian America was swept by a wave of Polonophilia. In 1832, Joseph Hordynski published in Boston History of the Polish Revolution and the Events of the Campaign, this first "Polish" book helped to stir interest in Poland's independence. The Russian diplomats complained bitterly only to have their charge declared persona non grata and expelled. The Poles formed a Committee which became the first Polish organization in America and Congress offered the newcomers a choice of land in either Illinois or Michigan. In 1834 President Jackson signed the bill into law. But strains within the exiled community, opposition by local inhabitants and lack of funds the land was eventually forfeited and most of the exiles were bitterly disappointed. It was not the last such experience. The letters home from these exiled patriots reflected the pain. One wrote about his job at a tanner's: "I worked even though blisters grew on my hand...but now they tell me to crawl on roof tops and stretch the stinking hides from roof to roof and when I fell to the ground I became so pained that I cast it all aside and now I am like a madman without lodging and without food and if I knew that I would be of some use to the Motherland I would chance this miserable existence." Another one wrote: " We have nothing here to live for except as colonists committing an act of national suicide." Nonetheless, in spite of such complaints, many remained. [4]

The California Gold Rush accelerated the arrival of many Europeans, including Poles. A Polish topographer, Dr. Felix Paul Wierzbicki who had arrived and settled in San Francisco published a Guide to the Gold Region. Wierzbicki's Guide was the first book in English to be printed in California and the first book published in San Francisco. It went into a second expanded edition that same year and in 1850 was published in Germany. There was even a Tasmanian edition. Clearly, the work was much sought after by prospectors traveling to the gold fields.[5] Aleksander Holynski, a map-maker of the California gold rush region, in 1853 published in Belgium a work titled: La California et les routes interoceaniques and suggested that a canal be dug across the isthmus of Panama.[6] Holynski and Wierzbicki were representative of a remarkable group of Polish topographers who played a major role in mapping new territories. Aside from these educated Polish refugees and stimulated by a decline in agriculture, the pressures of industrialization, onerous taxes as well as efforts at Germanization, more Polish farmers came from the region of Silesia in 1855-1856.

During the American Civil War, the Confederacy encouraged plans to settle Poles in Texas to fight on the side of the South. For that purpose, some 30,000 acres were set aside for these immigrants on the Trinity River in 1864. This area was to be called "New Poland." The project did not get off the ground because of criticism voiced against it by Polish emigration in Europe.[7] On the other hand a Democratic Society of Polish Emigres that condemned slavery and leaned to the more radical Republican Party organized a Polish Legion to fight for the North. The Confederate "Polish Brigade" and the Union's Polish Legion took part in important battles in both the Virginia and Gettysburg campaigns.[8]

The story of one such migration from Upper Silesia to America has retained a special place in the history of Polish connections with the American South and West. Father Leopold Bonaventura Maria Moczygeba, a Franciscan monk who was recruited by the Bishop of Galveston in 1852 to help settle Germans in the remote regions of Texas was so pleased with the results of his work that he asked his Polish compatriots to migrate to the New World. In December 1854, Father Moczygemba led 159 families from Upper Silesia, attracted to America by promise of land. These 800 farmers reached Galveston (eventually joined by 1,500 others) after a voyage of nine weeks to establish Panna Maria, "Virgin Mary" a settlement sixty miles southeast of San Antonio. Land was purchased at seven dollars an acre with twelve years for repayment with additional acreage for church and school. This was the first sizable Polish settlement and signaled the start of significant migration of Polish farmers to the United States, particularly to the South and West.

The Church in Panna Maria, Texas
A witness to the landing of the Polish farmers in Galveston described them thusly: "They wore the costumes of the old country. Many of the women had what at that time were regarded as very short skirts showing their limbs two or three inches above the ankle. Some had on wooden shoes and...wore broad-brimmed, low-crowned black felt hats, nothing like the hats worn in Texas." The Silesian Poles carried their ploughs, bedding, kitchen utensils and a large cross from their former parish. They traveled inland behind ox carts whose drivers wore broad sombreros and striped blankets. As described by one writer: "Sheltered in rough-hewn pole cabins and sod houses, the Silesian immigrants withered in the dry Texas climate and faced the constant perils of grasshopper plague and hostile Indian attack..[9]

It proved a disappointing venture. This first permanent Polish settlement in the United States was plagued by drought and soon mired in debt. As one writer put it: "They had come expecting a land of milk and honey and found a prairie full of rattlesnakes." There were many complaints. On May 13, 185l, the Polish newspaper Goniec Polski "The Polish Messenger" reflected on these complaints, undoubtedly with the intent of discouraging more departures of able-bodied men. "Nearly everybody is dreaming and chattering of America and a California abounding in gold while willingness to work ebbs ever more visibly. One is considering selling all his chattels to cover the costs of the pilgrimage, another is willing temporarily to sell his freedom in exchange for the price of the trip... a fortnight ago two Poles set out from here and the loss of one of them, a capable cabinetmaker, is most regrettable." On September 7, 1854 another paper reported that 150 persons left for Texas and by December 1855 another 700 left Silesia for America.[10]

In 1856 a drought caused many of the Silesian farmers to leave Panna Maria and some of them left to form a settlement of St. Gertrude, Missouri, which they renamed Cracow. Since many of the Silesians were known to be Union sympathizers they were not popular among their neighbors. In fact Union cavalry had to be called to protect the Polish settlers after the Civil War. Eventually Father Moczygemba left. Another priest, Father Bakanowski who succeeded him left a record of difficulties for the remainder of the Silesian community. He wrote that their church consisted of four bare walls with only one bed so that his assistant (who was working on a perpetual motion machine) had to sleep on the floor. The settlers grew cotton, corn, sugar cane, wild grapes, melons, watermelons and walnuts. Bakanowski traveled to other communities with a dog to protect him against jackals that were drawn to the camp site by the smell of kielbasa cooked over an open fire. Still, in spite of raids by Indians, the community expanded and a "Polish Corridor" was eventually created and the number of Poles in Texas grew appreciably.

The 1860 census listed 7,200 Poles in United States, a figure that should have been closer to 30,000 since the Poles were counted as nationals of other powers. By 1870, there were more Polish settlements in the Texas Panhandle, with names such as Bandera, St. Hedwig, Czestochowa, Kosciuszko and Polonia. There was also a "Polonia" Wisconsin in 1858, as well as such settlements as Pulaski, Kazimierz, Poniatowski, Cracow and Sobieski. There were more and more Polish settlers in Ohio, Indiana, Arkansas, Oklahoma, Illinois, and Missouri. Many more Poles came to the United States after the second abortive uprising against the Russians in 1863. But the harsh reality of those experiences, the poverty and the ethnic segregation whether on Texas plains or in the California gold fields, typically stood in stark contrast to the romanticized plot lines of popular fiction and later, Westerns.

The Polish writer Henryk Sienkiewicz spent two years in the United States and described his stay in his letters from America.. [11] In these accounts originally printed in a Warsaw newspaper and read widely in Poland, Sienkiewicz wrote vividly about the American West. He used this material to great effect in his books on Polish history, particularly when describing struggles with the Cossacks whom he compared to American Indians. In a recent introduction to an English translation of With Fire and Sword, (originally published in 1884), Jerzy R. Krzyzanowski wrote about the "two happy and exciting years" that the Polish author spent in the West, "...traveling down the great rivers and across the continent in the time of wagon trains, stage coaches and Indian campaigns -- hunting, fishing and camping in the Sierras...". Krzyzanowski noted that Sienkiewicz's description of the Ukrainian steppes were very much like the description of the American West. "The young Polish writer wandering through the prairies, breathing the vastness of America and the variety of its many people, while George Armstrong Custer made his last stand at the Little Big Horn and the great Indian Nations of the Plains receded into history." [12]

It says something about a writer's imagination, that Sienkiewicz who was never in the legendary "wildlands" on the border of the 17^th century Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth was able to use his impression of the American prairie. In his With Fire and Sword he described the sea of grass, where a man might ride unseen for days, like a "diver drifting through an ocean." He used a boat journey down the Mississippi to depict a voyage down the Dnieper River. He recalled the sight of huge reptiles, much more likely remembered from his travels in the West than ever seen in the Ukraine. And when Poles were finally overwhelmed by Tatars the scene could easily be reminiscent of Custer's last stand, with the brave Poles substituted for the American soldiers. Indeed, the themes that occupied Sienkiewicz in both With Fire and Sword as well as his other works, themes of freedom, of struggle over territories and a fight for national independence were very much a reflection of his experience in the United States. Utilizing the American West to look at Poland was an idea that also would emerge much later in Polish poster art of the Western.

The bloody campaign on Poland's borderlands was a mirror image of what was happening in the United States. Sienkiewicz, however, seems to have had more affinity with the outnumbered Indians than with aggressive cowboys. This idea deserves closer examination. Poles who often viewed themselves as history's victims, might have been expected to side with the Cowboys in their efforts to protect their land, property and families from "Savage" Indians. Yet, the Polish people, unable to play the role of gun-toting cowboys in their own tragic history, tended to identify with the Indians, a minority trying to survive on ancestral lands in the face of aggression, and yearning for former glories. This ideas is reflected in a number of Polish posters for Westerns: sympathy for and empathy with the underdog, the outgunned, the victim–whether it be the American Indian or the Gary Cooper character in High Noon–is a central theme running throughout this body of work.

Sienkiewicz's letters show his love for the American West mixed with a sense of awe if not fear in that vast expanse. He bemoaned the coming of the railroads and the displacement of Indians. "There is nothing more depressing than (railroad tracks) across the prairie," he wrote. "At the top of the telegraph poles were attached horizontal crossbars giving the appearance of crucifixes. All around stretched a gray, endless plain covered with sweetbroom and occasional patches of snow, and the long row of crosses, sad and funereal as far as the eye could see. They seemed to mark the path leading into the valley of death, or to represent monuments upon the graves of wanderers. They are really monuments. They mark the graves of the original inhabitants of this land. Wherever such a cross appears, there people, forests, buffaloes will perish; there will perish the virginity of the soil. Today's vast silence will be transformed into the hubbub of men selling, buying, cheating and being cheated. On the graves of the Indians a learned professor will discourse upon the rights of nations. Over the lair of the fox a lawyer will set up his office. Yonder where the wolf roamed, a priest will tend his flock. Alas! the chase of humanity after what seems to be happiness will be no more successful than the chase of a dog after his own tail." Sienkiewicz's reference to postmortem discourses on the rights of nations was more than a familiar echo of Poland's tragic past. His dark vision of an American western paradise lost to progress stood in start contrast to the literature and art of Manifest Destiny. In designing works for Westerns a number of Polish poster artists have returned to Sienkiewicz's vision, incorporating Christian symbols into images of death and destruction.

Sienkiewicz's account of his first meeting with Indians showed where his sympathies lay. "It was a real joy and surprise" Sienkiewicz writes in one of letters. His party had come across a delegation of the Sioux traveling east to meet with President Grant. "Six warriors, no longer young, were squatting around a fire built of dry twigs. They were dressed partly in skins, partly in shabby European clothes, or wrapped in blankets stamped with the letters U.S. which the government distributes to them. Some had their hair hanging down unadorned -- straight, black and coarse. Others had stuck feathers and pieces of ribbon or other brightly colored ornaments into their hair. The majority were armed with Kentucky rifles; all of them carried knives and small hatchets called tomahawks. At the belts some of them hung scalps, that is hair torn from the heads of their enemies; human hair also decorated the seams of their garments. They sat quiet and motionless...like bronze statues. The surrounding crowd was obviously very hostile towards them. ‘God damn you!' ‘Pox on you!' and other typical American profanities were hurled at them." Sienkiewicz compared the emotionless Indians, often unfavorably, to the rowdy westerners. "The unruly conduct of the white men was in striking contrast to the stolididity of the red warriors. They look at no one, wondered at nothing.... Indians possess the same violent passions common to all children of nature, but according to Indian standards, only a woman or a man unworthy of the name, reveals what is happening within her soul. The true warrior is a master of his emotions. While his soul seethes with an insane rage, he can look upon his victim with that impassive expression which makes one's blood curdle....tied to the torture stake...he will not betray his pain by even the slightest twitch of his muscles... such is the Indian code..."[14] According to Sienkiewicz "the Sioux were trying to preserve at least the appearance of that stoicism which constitutes a strange yet admirable trait of this half-savage race, a race which has produced...ideals which belong only to people of a high intellectual development." And yet he confessed that despite all this, "the Sioux warriors did not correspond to the mental picture of Indians which I had acquired from my reading of the novels of Cooper, Bellemare and others. "...they appeared shabby, extremely dirty and slovenly. An odor emanated from them which was hardly better that that of the skunks; fortunately it was somewhat mitigated by the smoke of the burning heather." When he learned of the defeat of General Custer by Chief Sitting Bull he quickly praised the bravery of the Sioux.

On the other hand Sienkiewicz was impressed by the American system as it affected immigrants, mindful as he was of the efforts at Germanization and Russification imposed on his countrymen. "Never does it enter the heads of the Americans or their government to attempt to Americanize anybody," he wrote admiringly. "If Germans establish a settlement they call it Berlin, the French call it their Paris, the Poles, Warsaw, the Russians, St. Petersburg... a town could even be named Shanghai and to an American it wouldn't matter." He discussed at length and somewhat optimistically the Polish settlements, including Panna Maria. "Their inhabitants occupy themselves chiefly with cattle raising and agriculture. In Illinois, Wisconsin and Indiana they plant potatoes and sow wheat as in Poland; in hot Texas they grow corn and even cotton. Although their condition is far from opulent...they are able to satisfy their needs and their earnings are sufficient to build churches, establish schools and defray municipal expenditures. A certain degree of prosperity is achieved most easily by those who are married, especially having many children, for in the United States where labor is costly, children are a real blessing for the settler." As for the factory workers, Polish immigrants earn less than others, but they earn a better livelihood than they knew in Poland." Sienkiewicz waxed nostalgic and eloquent about his countrymen. "Whether on the shores of the Great Lakes or the Pacific Ocean those who have been born in the fatherland will never forget it and will remain faithful to it. Settlers in Illinois and in Texas preserve lumps of Polish earth as if they were relics. These they place in the coffin under the head or over the heart of the deceased... Today on the prairies of Nebraska and Arkansas many a Polish peasant pauses to ponder and frequently to weep as he strikes his scythe against the whetstone, for the sound reminds him of his native village. Or somewhere under the hot skies of Texas when the church organ resounds and the people begin to sing "Holy Father," their eyes fill with tears and their peasant thoughts wing their way back across the ocean like sea gulls and return to the thatched huts of their native Poland."[15]

This account of the lives of Polish immigrants differs substantially from that described by another student of Polish migrations. The prominent Polish-American sociologist, Florian Znaniecki, in a pioneering work with William I. Thomas, The Polish Peasant in Europe and America written almost three-quarters of a century ago, wrote a valuable analysis of the attitudes of Polish immigrants.[16] Remarkable for its early use of oral history, the two-volume work also reproduced many bitter letters from Polish husbands, fathers and sons who came here to earn money for themselves and their families back home. Znaniecki makes clear in his account that the Polish immigrants remained more ethnically segregated from mainstream America than other groups. More than two million Poles arrived in the United States between 1880 and 1910. Many were young farmers who provided the unskilled labor for packing-houses, textile mills and coal mines. Poles were (and are) inveterate letter writers and the Polish peasant wrote many long letters. This correspondence formed the heart of Znaniecki's work and the exchanges, these so-called "bowing letters" between young immigrants and the parents, wives and children they left behind alternate between hope and despair.

A husband wrote to his wife: "Here in America... thousands of people go about without work... I have not worked for 7 months and now times are so bad that in America it gets worse and worse. A lot of people come from our country, and here... thousands walk about without work. But the people in our country imagine that when somebody comes to America he does nothing but make money... [here] one must work for 3 horses and yet this work is scarce..." Another writer explained: "...being working people, oppressed with exploitation in their fatherland, harassed in their native village by the uncertainty of tomorrow and hearing about this gold-flowing America of their dreams... they go there. But what befalls them? The same, even still harder labor, sometimes complete lack of work... and such people, being in such a condition, commit often unheard-of things..." In the final analysis, the emigrant could not persuade his family back home that they should remain in the Old World. "As the fish thirsts for fresh water so we thirst to be united with you, but… only in America" was a prayer more frequently asked by the families left behind than answered by those who left them for the New World. These letters make for sad reading. For every success story there were many others that told of families never to be reunited, of hopes for a better future dashed against the harsh reality of American life. The streets were not paved with gold.

The image of America and the promise of the "West" as a land of freedom continued to hold important significance for Poles long before they made posters for Westerns. In the nineteenth century America represented the hope for multitudes in Russian Poland and the Westward expansion was read as a story of a free land and a free people. It was a deeply-felt belief that was to attract many Polish immigrants and many others who came to find opportunity in the West. Long before the films that portrayed the history of the West, there was a considerable literature in translation that acquainted Poles and other people of central Europe with the open spaces of America. It was a utopian dream spawned by many accounts of travelers since Columbus and elaborated on throughout the eighteenth century. The appearance of Benjamin Franklin at the French court in his simple Quaker garb was a confirmation of the idyllic setting and American struggle for Independence and the Constitution that followed gave proof of the perfectibility implicit in the new system. In the early 19th century, no less a figure than the German philosopher-writer, Johann Wolfgang Goethe, wrote of Faust redeeming himself by working in a free land, an obvious reference to America. Many Utopian societies of Europe such as the Fourierist Phalanxes (some Polish followers of Fourier settled in New Jersey) and Owenites found their way to the American shores because this was the Shining City on the Hill, this was their Jerusalem.

Art imagery and travel literature were an important source for the propagation of this vision. In addition to the Polish writer Henryk Sienkiewicz, there were travel accounts by English, French, German and Italian travelers.[17] Especially important were images of North American Indians whose lives and misfortunes were of considerable interest to Europeans. Starting with the nine Indians that Columbus brought back to Spain after his first voyage, subsequent travelers and explorers carried Indians back as guides for future travel or as hostages.[18] Artists, poets and novelists used the Indians as subjects for their works. As American conquered the "wilderness" the Indians became both an abiding object of hostility or as "noble savages" and nature's children. While their failure to stop Westward Expansion was proof of the superiority of civilization, their bravery as victims elevated them to a status almost equal to (and sometimes above) that of their adversaries. Their defeat and survival served a double purpose: they became a witness to both the heroism and compassion of their American conquerors.

Though Frederick Jackson Turner argued in 1893 that the frontier epoch had ended, pioneers were just beginning to explore the frontiers of the imaginary West. "The tale of the American tribe," is how the Goetzmanns described the mythical narrative of the West. Astutely observing that it is no straightforward matter to differeniate fact from fiction when lookng at representations of the region: "For the visial image-makers have contributed as much as the writers to the fundamental myth of the American experience–the story of the peopling of a vast new continent by emigrants from the old European world who were forever moving West." Novelist Larry McMurtry takes the argument a step further: "For the lies about the West are more powerful than the truth about the West–so much more powerful that, in a sense, lies about the West are the truths about the West–the West, at least of the imagination.[19]

Richard Slotkin in Gunfighter Nation, writes: "The Myth of the Frontier is our oldest and most characteristic myth, expressed in a body of literature, folklore, ritual, historiography and polemics produced over a period of three centuries." He continues:"According to this myth historiography, the conquest of the wilderness and the subjugation or displacement of the Native Americans who originally inhabited it have been the means to our achievement of a national identity, a democratic polity, an ever expanding economy and a phenomenally dynamic and ‘progressive' civilization." Slotkin used the word "conflict" frequently to describe frontier expansion. The history of contact between Euro-Americans and indigenous population indeed has been marked by great violence. But more important, America has portrayed itself as a "peculiarly violent nation" to the point where violence has acquired "mythic significance." After 1893, Slotkin notes, the frontier had become "a set of symbols that constituted an explanation of history. Its significance as a mythic space began to outweigh its importance as a real place…" Such an explanation insisted that conflict was linked to fate and that aggression served destiny. Symbols of frontier violence became embedded in the mythology of the Old West, a mythology soon exported elsewhere. But while they might recognize and utilize Western symbols, people outside of America might not agree, or subscribe to the myth. [20]

Mythical notions of the frontier lie at the very heart of American identity. As Slotkin has argued, over time the narrative became reduced and abstracted until it emerged as a deeply encoded and resonant set of symbols, icons keywords and cliches. In this form it entered memory and remains there today as what Gretchen Bataille and Charles Silet have termed "the central myth of the American Experience." The very word "frontier" can be drawn upon to drum up support for an idea or a course of action. In 1960, John F. Kennedy coined the term New Frontier to define the central theme of his presidential campaign. And who can forget Captain Kirk's immortal words:"Space the final frontier," at the beginning of each episode of Star Trek? Over time these symbols have become universally recognized. The Polish poster artist consistently uses this to powerful effect in illustrating Westerns. The myth of the West can be mobilized to explain the Vietnam war, or to sell cigarettes. Its symbols define the past, can help make sense of the present and set a course for the future. As Slotkin relates, the frontier narrative: "still colors the way we count our wealth and estimate our prospects, the way we deal with nature and with [nations]." So deeply has it been woven into the American psyche that "the Myth can still tell us what to look for when we look at the stars." The Western encapsulates America's view of itself. Utilizing Western subject matter allows the Polish poster artist to comment on America as a whole.[21]

Richard White describes the West as the most "imagined" section of the United States, arguing : "So powerful is the influence of this imagined West that its fictional creations and persons become symbols of the West, and real westerners model themselves after fictional characters.[22] Visual spectacles and imagery, especially such powerful manifestations as dime novels, Western melodramas, Wild West shows, rodeos, advertising, fashions, and country and western music have played a vital role in identifying and defining the West, creating the myth and influencing perceptions of the region. Without question, however, the medium that embraced, fine-tuned and disseminated the myth to a mass worldwide audience was the Western. How foreign audiences have responded to America's vision of itself makes for a truly fascinating yet largely unexplored story.

The creation of the Western myth first became important as the frontier receded into memory in the wake of industrialization and urbanization. It was no accident that the Wild West shows became popular in the 1880's.[23] American no longer divided by Civil War loyalties, sought a national history and mythology. Lawmen and gunfighter, scouts and gold seekers–these were proof that the conquest of Indian Country was necessary for nation-building. In the years between the War of 1812 and the Civil War, writers and artists used the Indian to portray a distinct American nationalism, free of European models. It was the American answer to the Romanticism sweeping European arts and letters. American writing on the legendary Daniel Boone and Davy Crockett were published in Europe, the frontiersman saga appealing particularly to the German reading public. James Fenimore Cooper's Leatherstocking Tales as well as the later novels of Zane Grey were translated into many languages, including Polish. Works of art inspired by Cooper's novels were exhibited in the Paris Salon. Some of the artists visited or lived among Indian tribes and their works proved of great interest to a European public hungry for such exotic scenes.

Poland's own frontier lay to the east, its defining geographical feature being Bialowieza, a heavily forested region bordering present-day Belarus. The forest had been the hunting ground of European royalty and dignitaries for centuries. The prey was the fierce zubr, Poland's equivalent of the American buffalo and it too became practically extinct. The eastern borderlands have always been associated with the Lithuanian-born Polish poet, Adam Mickiewicz, whose epics were inspired by his familiarity with the region. Mickiewicz was traveling in Italy prior to the 1830 Polish revolt against Russian occupation. While there, 1829, he met Cooper, already famous in Europe, particularly for the Last of the Mohicans (1826) The two met again in Paris after the outbreak of the rebellion. Cooper helped to organize a Committee for Poland while Mickiewicz wrote Pan Tadeusz, his paean to the Polish-Lithuanian borderlands. Simon Schama has noted that both the Leatherstocking Tales and Pan Tadeusz were written to "celebrate worlds their authors knew to be already extinct." Cooper and Mickiewicz both wished to bequeath their works to posterity as examples of "sylvan virtue,"–"the hidden heart of national identity."[24]

The frontier was important to Poles as well as Americans, even as the frontiers of both nations began to disappear. To Poles, Bialowieza and its vast expanses to the east constituted a mythic space analogous. To the American West, where boys could become men and virtue could be tested. Geography determined that Poland's frontier would be forest rather than prairie or plain, and while the history of the American West was characterized by seemingly limitless expansion and possibilities, Polish territories shrank as the country lost its independence. Poles would continue to look to America as a land, that unlike theirs, was blessed by both geography and history, a land peopled by heroes. Westerns may have been entertainment to Americans, but to the Polish people they have presented a visual confirmation of the democratic ideal they were denied.

The works of George Catlin, his hundreds of portraits of Indians and tribal scenes, produced as a result of his journeys up the Missouri River begun in 1832, became an invaluable record of an untamed Indian civilization at that time.[25] He thought his art would save from extinction the Indian and the buffalo and he was highly critical of the traders who brought liquor and guns to the Indians and exchanged these for buffalo hides. He recommended that an extensive national park be established to separate the races and allow the Indian to live in a state of nature. As "artist, scientist and showman," Catlin sought to plead his case before a public that paid little attention to him even as they bought his art. Catlin exhibited his collection of Indian artifacts at a show in New York in 1837, dubbed by one writer as "the first Wild West show and an authentic one." Eventually, Catlin took his show to England where he presented tableaux vivants on Indian life. These were eventually shown on the continent, precursors of Buffalo Bills Wild West shows.[26]

The writings of the German Karl May were also significant in developing interest in the American West and translated into many languages. May, born in 1842, was sightless for a period as a child and developed a vivid imagination. Although he only paid one visit to America, he was well acquainted with books on geography and wrote with authority about the West and Mexico. May's books have been published in Poland and were widely read from the 19th century until this day. I found his books about Indians such as Winnetou, Old Surehand, Old Shatterhand, and works such as W Kordylierach, "In Cordilleras" Skarb w Srebrnym Jeziorze, "Treasure in the Silver Lake", Przez Gory i Prerie, "Over Mountains and Prairie" on my recent visit in Warsaw. One series under the title: Rod Rodrigandow "The Rodriguez Family" has appeared in seventeen volumes, and I was able to buy the last one, Zmierzch Cesarza "Twilight of the Emperor," displayed prominently amid the stalls on Marszalkowska Street, near an immense sign advertising the Marlboro Man. (plate 46)

Catlin died in 1872, the same year that William F. Cody, started his show business life. Various accounts of his life as an army scout and railroad business transmogrified his life into that of Buffalo Bill. Appearing on stage in dramas based on real and imaginary dime novel accounts of his life, it did not take long before he achieved what today would be called stardom. For the next few years, Buffalo Bill continued his twin roles as scout and as stage performer. Together with fellow scout, James Butler "Wild Bill" Hikock, he formed the "Buffalo Bill Combination," performances which led to him to believe that his own appearance, joined with that of Indians, would convey to a public hungry for heroes the flavor of the real West. By 1883 he was ready to bring his show into an arena.[27]

The time was ripe for this kind of extravaganza. With a national debate over the "Indian Problem," the question whether the Indian was a "noble savage" or a threat to our national existence could be easily subsumed under the general category of entertainment, although it was still a time when the Plains Indians posed a danger to emigrants and others who traveled or settled the West either by coach or railroad. The Sioux, Cheyennes and the Comanches were still opposed the loss of their ancestral lands and the precious buffalo while the dramatic and deadly encounter between George Armstrong Custer and Sitting Bull was still some years off. Buffalo Bill's show was an immense enterprise, travelling by ship and railroads, and with hundreds of performers it was for many people a representation of American history at its most inventive. " Wild West," the name that Buffalo Bill used for his show, became for many in his audience a lodestar of their hopes and dreams. It was not only an America of a "Frontier" that was soon to end, but a land of unlimited possibilities in the future. The aim of the show, as Cody saw it, was to educate people about their history with a new type of visual education. The show, through a series of "animated scenes and episodes" (as the program in 1886 phrased it) sought to show how civilization came to the American continent. The performance began with the Primeval Forest and ended with a display of marksmanship by Buffalo Bill and Annie Oakley. Although the scenes of Primeval Forest and episodes on the Plains were more in keeping with the writings of Fenimore Cooper than with historical events, there was an element of truth about them and they certainly created the atmosphere of history as it was lived and experienced. Buffalo Bill hired Sitting Bull and Geronimo to perform as well as many Indians who had recently fought against the U.S. Cavalry. It did not hurt Buffalo Bill's career that in the midst of his performance in 1876 he announced that he was again a scout, ready to help the United States cavalry in the midst of the Cheyenne-Sioux warfare. The fact that he caught up with the Cheyennes and shot and scalped an Indian charging him made him an instant legend. It was said that he did this to avenge Custer although Little Big Horn occurred later and it was never established whether the Indian killed by him was the one who shot Custer. It didn't matter. He showed off the scalp to audiences and exploited Custer's Last Stand. The waving of the scalp was made into a famous poster.

From 1887 to 1892 Buffalo Bill took his Wild West show to Europe where thousands of people saw it and acquired their view of America from it. He had added Custer's Last Stand to the program and he even hired Cheyenne and Sioux warriors who were veterans of the Custer fight. Another important addition to the Wild West show was the Congress of Rough Riders with horsemen from different countries performing. Buffalo Bill was now available as a peacemaker with Indian tribes as the last Indian uprisings showed the futility of opposing the United States forces. Reconciliation with the Indians was the order of the day since America was now in competition with other powers. In an 1898 Wild West Poster, Buffalo Bill was compared to Napoleon Bonaparte, another "Man on Horseback." In 1899 the show was promoted by the largest poster ever displayed, a 108-sheet billboard advertising the "Wild West." Buffalo Bill always tried to lend an air of authenticity to all his acts and contemporary events such as the 1898 Spanish-American War were included. At one point he offered to drive Spaniards out of Cuba with the aid of 30,000 Indians assisted by Geronimo and Jack Red Cloud. In 1901 San Juan was replaced by Tien-Tsin of the Boxer Rebellion in China. But both Buffalo Bill and the Frontier were aging and the Wild West show declined in importance. The last European tour coincided with great migration to U.S. The Wild West show had served many needs, not the least of which was as an advertisement for many Europeans who were contemplating migrating to the United States. To many of them the Wild West show was the first and last image of the West as it existed in myth and stories.[28]

There was one other Wild West Show that toured Europe in competition to Buffalo Bill's, one organized by Buffalo Bill's rival, Doc Carver.[29] Carver with a partner Fred C. Whitney and their troupe landed in Hamburg in June 1889, capitalizing on the successful European tour of Buffalo Bill. For the next two years this "Wild America Show" performed all over Europe. Carver, who had been remembered in Germany for giving shooting demonstrations and challenges in 1879, received a tremendous reception in Berlin ten years later. On July 4, 1889, he gave a performance before 35,000 German spectators that included royalty, and what was planned to be a four weeks engagements was extended by several weeks. The Carver show traveled from Berlin to Vienna where his troupe was housed under the Great Rotunda of the Prato. Carver traveled on to Russia by way of Budapest and Warsaw. There were 100,000 Russians soldiers quartered in Warsaw at the time, including 20,000 Cossacks. The latter, known far and wide for their horseback riding skills (and brutal attacks on demonstrating crowds) were awed by the skills of Carver's riders. In Warsaw, a city tax was levied on the show to provide ten percent of its receipts for the city poor, as the show's shrewd business head, Fred Whitney, raised the admission price to lessen the tax burden. The program cover of the four-page program for the 1890 Carver's Wild West Show in Warsaw displayed "Wild America" title in English, Russian and Polish. Carver's likeness on the cover resembled that of Buffalo Bill.

After the successful tour in Warsaw, Carver took his show to Moscow where a special display area had to be built for them, police guarding the facility because of the excitement among the spectators. After four weeks in Moscow the show went on to St. Petersburg where a long street parade from the railroad station to the amphitheater provided a free spectacle for the inhabitants. Following the St. Petersburg engagement, Carver's "Wild America" show went on to Helsingfors, in Russian Finland, and then crossed the Baltic to Stockholm. They also traveled to Australia returning briefly to Hamburg and Berlin. At one time, both Doc Carver's "Wild America" and Buffalo Bill's "Wild West" toured Germany simultaneously, their paths crossing from time to time. The German public had already been prepared for such shows by appearances of groups of Indians traveling earlier with a Frank Harvey show.

Buffalo Bill's show made it to Poland as well. In 1906, on its last leg of the European tour after visiting France, Italy, Austria, Hungary, Germany, Holland and Belgium, Cody performed in Austrian Poland. The area was filled with Russian Jews who had fled persecution. This was not exactly the audience that Cody found interested in his kind of entertainment. As he explained to a friend: "Well, I simply done no business and had worlds of trouble. I lost my socks but not my courage for I knew if the old show could live to get out of there she would right herself and she is doing it." Not a triumphal end for the European tour, indeed.[30] In fact, by this time, Buffalo Bill was aging and Wild West shows were in decline. His last European tours coincided with a period of great migration to the United States. The Wild West shows served as a huge advertisement for those contemplating leaving their homelands. To many Europeans the likes of Buffalo Bill and Doc Carver had offered an irresistible image of an imaginary West.

My wife and I recently traveled in the Western states and drove through Colorado, Utah, and Arizona to California. It was our own discovery of the frontier as we imagined it once was. The sight of Monument Valley, the open spaces of Arizona, the experience of meeting in Utah Mormon friends whose ancestors were considered along with Indians to be enemies, these were still powerful reminders of the past. When we were on the outskirts of Denver we visited the final resting place of Buffalo Bill who died at his sister's house in 1917. His gravesite, enclosed by a simple iron fence, an American flag flying over high, overlooks the city, although the Denver of Buffalo Bill's time bears no resemblance to the metropolis of today. The grave was surprisingly simple. Irregular pieces of shiny desert stone were piled haphazardly, the way one would expect to find a body buried hurriedly in the desert. As we walked into the gift shop I heard a booming voice: "Why you yellow-livered coward, stand like a man and draw !" I froze and then I realized that the voice was coming out of an automated figure that resembled Buffalo Bill. I decided to walk away when my wife insisted that I accept the challenge. I deposited the required change. The buckskin-clad figure directed me to count to three and draw. At least I had a chance. It wasn't as if John Wayne was saying: "Touch that gun and I'll kill ya!" I reached for the revolver holstered at the side of the machine, aimed at the left side of the chest and shot Buffalo Bill before he could get me.

The advent of motion pictures truly internationalized the American West. Silent Westerns were shown in Poland after World War I, and Poles became familiar with Singing Cowboys and other B-Western stars during the 1930's. The German Ersatzwesterns of the inter-war years also were screened in Poland. In spite of the growing estrangement between the East and West after World War II, America continued to export Hollywood production to Eastern Europe, typically a few years after their U.S. release. At first few Westerns films were shown in Poland but their numbers grew steadily during the late 1950's and peaked during 1960-85. Undoubtedly, demand stemmed from the abiding attachment for America that Poland retained, and from the presence there of many Poles who maintained contact with their families and friends. American-made movies were always the most popular, and Poles tell stories of long lines and even ticket scalping for new John Wayne features in the sixties and seventies. The Communist authorities known for their anti-American propaganda, failed to realize the impact that Westerns would have on Polish youth and considered them innocent entertainment. The Western's popularity was directly linked to the spread of television in Poland. Bonanza and Disney's Zorro became popular series in the 1960's and classic movies like Red River (see left) appeared regularly on T.V. Special clubs were organized in colleges to debate the merits of American films such as Stagecoach. The magazine Kino (Cinema) frequently ran articles on Westerns, while the agency Wytwornia Filmow Dokumentalnych (Documentary Film Productions) promoted interest in the likes of director John Ford.[31]

Perhaps because of his ethnic background or the kind of roles Kirk Douglas played, his Westerns seem to have been in heavy demand in Poland. Douglas was not known as a prolific performer in Westerns, appearing in less than twenty features, yet at least six Polish posters–Adam Bowbelski's 1957 Indianski wojownik (Indian Fighter, 1955), (Plate 100) Witold Janowski's 1966 Ostatni zachod slonca (The Last Sunset, 1961), (Plate 134) Andrzej Bertrand's 1972 Pojedynek rewolwerowcow (A Gunfight, 1971), (Plate 41) Jakub Erol's Byl sobie lajdak (There was a Crooked Man, 1979), (Plate 47) Jerzy Flisak's 1974 Ostatni Pociag z Gun Hill (Last Train from Gun Hill), (Plate 48) and Jan Mlodozeniec's 1976 Oddzial (Posse), (Plate 81) were commissioned for his films. Poles may have been drawn to Douglas' love of melodrama and "a performance style of barely contained emotional explosiveness and below-surface tension." [33] Even more likely, they would have empathized with the Douglas' characters' love of freedom and hatred of restraint, as epitomized in his defining role in Man Without a Star (1955)

During the sixties, seventies and eighties, Polish theaters also showed Westerns made in Eastern European countries such as Czechoslovakia, East Germany, Romania and Poland itself. Western Films produced in West Germany and occasionally Britain and France were screened but the Poles had no appetite for Spaghetti Westerns and only few were shown. Though they enjoyed satire, and Polish poster art of the genre could be challenging and offbeat, Poles typically preferred the Western itself to be more traditional.

Some excellent Polish posters were designed for these European Westerns. Two for German Democratic Republic productions, in keeping with the subject matter of the films, feature American Indians. Zbigniew Czarnecki's 1975 Ulzana - Wodz Apaczow (Ulzana - Chief of the Apache) presents a dark yet beautiful portrait of Yugoslav actor Gojko Mitic as the Apache leader. The painted face of Ulzana appears like a mask. (Plate 49) Andrzej Krzysztoforski's 1983 poster Tropiciel (The Scout) also portrays an Indian leader. Though appearing somewhat humorous, with a prominent nose and chin shown in profile and virtually no mouth, the Indian wears a feathered headdress and war paint and has an angry expression. (Plate 50) Marian Stachurski's 1968 poster Wilcze echa (Wolves' echoes) for the Polish film of the same name, presents a subtly understated flight and pursuit image. Three miniaturized silhouette figures on horseback are pictured against a blood-orange sky. Two of the riders wearing soldiers' caps and carrying guns chase the third who aims a gun back at them. ( Plate 51) Andrzej Pagowski's 1981 work Siedmiogrodziane na dzikim zachodzie (Transylvanians in the Wild West) for a Romanian-produced Western, portrays a revolver with "oil" stamped on the cylinder. A pressure button has been added to the ejector rod beneath the barrel, and the hammer is angled to resemble a spout. ( Plate 52) In the 1974 poster Dzielny szeryf Lucky Luke, by an unknown artist, for the 1971 animated production Lucky Luke, the cowboy's mouth has become a cigarette holder. ( Plate 53 ) Two posters for Eastern European-produced Western satires, though different in style, present the same message. Maciej Hibner's 1965 Lemoniadowy Joe for the Czech film Limonadowy Joe -- konska opera (Lemonade Joe,1964) and Mieczyslaw Wasilewski's 1979 Prorok, zloto i Siedmiogrodziane for the Romanian film (The Prophet, the gold and Transylvanians) ( The Prophet, the gold and Transylvanians) both show smiling cowboys, but have a darker meaning. Hibner's Lemonade Joe sports a 0% target on his torso, while Wasilewski's portrait is riddled with bullet holes. The cowboys' attitude might be devil-may-care, but they will not be smiling too long. (Plate 54) and (Plate 55)

No account of Poland's connections with the American West would be complete without the extraordinary story of one man's efforts to recreate on Polish soil an image of the American West. The filmmaker Tomasz Magierski, a specialist in documentaries, has referred to this genre as "Kielbasa Westerns." The work of Josef Klyk, an amateur filmmaker of Polish Upper Silesia is proof of how abiding and strong are the ties that bind the Polish people to a vision of the American frontier. More importantly they point to the uses one society may make of the history of another, even if the image may turn out to be a mirage.

Klyk has been making Westerns for twenty years and has so far directed fifty of them, receiving awards for his amateur productions. It has been his dream to connect the story of Upper Silesia when it was still under German rule with 19th century America. In the village of Bojszowo, a place Klyk calls his "little Hollywood," he and a small crew produce "Westerns" with a Russian 16mm camera. The film is a primer on the symbols and icons of the American West. With a Polish martial tune in the background, the film's first image is a tight-shot of a stack of rifles being handed out to willing hands as an ancient cannon is rolled out from under a plastic cover -- the scene eerily reminiscent of footage from the Warsaw Uprising of 1944. To the sound of revolver shots, the screen announces: "Klyk Western, & Co.,"In a voice-over commentary as various props are displayed and characters introduce themselves, Klyk tells of the Panna Maria settlement of 1854, when an entire village under the leadership of Reverend Moczygeba tried to escape a ten-year period of hunger and disease by selling all their possessions and moving to Texas. As his camera pans the cemetery abandoned by the migrants, Klyk recalls how his fellow Silesians left for Texas with only the symbols of their faith: the church crucifix, a bell and a container of Holy Water. The idea was to establish a "Poland in America."

We next see Klyk in his workshop as he prepares his day's "shoot." Surrounded by Western memorabilia he introduces us to members of his cast. Outdoors, the painted signs in the village display a familiarity with the performances of Buffalo Bill. One reads: Farewell Appearance of Buffalo Bill. Another one proclaims: The Farewell Shot. Positively the Last Appearance of Col. W.F. Cody in the Saddle. Buffalo Bill with the Congress of Rough Riders. Other signs on buildings are: Gold Bulls Head Saloon, and the Bank. There are "Wanted" notices posted for Jack McCall, Billy the Kid and Liberty Valance. There is an authentic-looking Western wagon with U.S. 58th Regiment painted on its canvas.

Without funding or sponsors, Klyk and his friends do the shooting on a nearby farm. His entire family is involved, some of them dressed up as Indians. "My life would have been incomplete without this film," he confesses. "All my free time is devoted to it. After all, professional films cost hundreds of millions. With me it's different. Horses are for free. Drinks are gratis. I was lucky that at the time that I was making the film there was a contest for documentaries and my film won a prize for an amateur film at a festival." For Klyk the film represents freedom, the open prairie he never saw. "America for me is a dream, " he insists. As he explains it: "This film was made by people who didn't even rehearse it. Some did it on weekend leaves from the army. People who never rode horses had to be taught how to do it. Horses too had to be trained for their roles. They were always used to return to the barn and they continued to do so not realizing it now had a sign that said: Bank.

Klyk enumerated some of the difficulties he faced. "The film was shot on two locations. The exteriors were done in a small village near my home. The interiors were done in my basement. The important thing was to try to shoot the film in the morning before the actors got too drunk. I wanted to make the pistol duels as spectacular as possible. Wounds were simulated by having condoms filled with blood and detonated by batteries with bits of dynamite tied around the neck. Such materials are easily available in this mining community. The actors were taught how to shoot and fall. To emphasize the actors' reaction we decided not use protective vests. So their pained expressions are real. The shots burned their skins. But the blood from the condom cooled them," Klyk adds without cracking a smile.

As the crowd gathers Klyk goes over his final preparations. He explains to the actors how they are to use their guns and shows them how to twirl the revolver in the traditional Western style. It is Sunday after Mass, so that the film-making will have the ecclesiastical blessing. Costumes are tried on, Indian headgear adjusted, faces painted and mustaches glued on. This may be a far cry from John Ford's Stagecoach, (see left) but now at last Klyk is ready to shoot his "Western."

Klyk's film is Czlowiek Znikad (Man from Nowhere), a story about a Pole who emigrated to Panna Maria and became a very skillful cowboy. He fought almost everybody -- Cowboys, Indians, and after the Civil War, Klu Klux Klan. Klyk not only acts in the lead role but provides the voice-over commentary. "The Man from Nowhere" returns from America to Upper Silesia where a struggle for secession from Germany is taking place. He hides in the woods as fighting starts and dreams that he is back in Texas. The dream sequence includes just about every cliche known to "Westerns." Scenes constantly shift from America to Silesia. We know we are in America when we see a wagon with two drivers wearing Union hats. It is the wagon of the 58th Regiment and it flies an American flag. The soldiers talk about Panna Maria and the Silesians who have arrived from there. The scene then shifts to Silesia where we see Klyk working as a blacksmith. German soldiers with peaked helmets typical of the Wilhelmine period enter. There is a struggle when Klyk is first overpowered but he eventually kills his captors, goes to Hamburg and sails for the New World and Texas. Throughout this scene an accordion is heard playing over and over: "The Battle Hymn of the Republic." The story continues in a small Texas frontier town with signs such as Wells Fargo and Bonanza Store. Klyk walks into a saloon, and after some drinking gets into a fight and is beaten up. Eventually he is rescued and befriended by the town's sheriff. In what is very likely a scene based on a Polish village rather than a settlement in Texas, Klyk meets a Jewish store keeper and starts to work for him. He soon gets into another fight and loses his job. During the next sequence there is a shoot-out as accordion switches to the theme from High Noon. In a scene obviously patterned on the Gary Cooper film there follows a camera shot of a bandit through the legs of the sheriff who recognizes the wanted man and shoots him. Klyk in a voice over-narration says: "Never reach for your gun unless you can be sure you are first. This is the law of the West, kill or be killed." As the music theme switches to "O Susanna" the camera zooms in on a "Wanted" poster for Liberty Valance. The sheriff enters the saloon, spots the wanted man, kills him and removes the poster from the wall. Klyk now has gained in experience as a cowboy and stages what comes to be his oft-repeated cameo performance of fast drawing and twirling of his revolver. The use of the music from High Noon and a poster of a character drawn from the classic John Ford, John Wayne and James Stewart film, The Man who Shot Liberty Valance, give a fascinating insight into this Polish Western filmmaker's lexicon of imagery.

Another Klyk film, Szlakiem Bezprawie (The False Trail) has to do with gold prospecting. It begins with the historic photograph of laying the gold spike in the Union Pacific railroad ceremony. Like many others who come from Europe, Klyk decides to search for gold. His motto is: "You only have to shoot fast and ride horses. This is a land of the free." But soon he and other gold prospectors are attacked by bandits and while Klyk escapes with his gold, his friends are killed. When he tries to sell gold to the saloon-keeper he is attacked by that same band of robbers who take his gold. Klyk philosophizes: "Wasn't it better being a blacksmith in Silesia? Shot several times by the bandits he miraculously remains alive.

Again it is the sheriff who rescues the barely alive Klyk, slings him over the saddle and takes him back to that same Jewish merchant (now also a doctor) who not only ministers to his wounds but sells him new cowboy gear and guns. In addition he gives Klyk advanced lessons on how to be a shooter. As the bandits enter the saloon there follows the classic film scene from many westerns. Money and beer glasses are tossed on counter, there is bragging, cursing and card-playing, and a drunken free-for-all follows. There is a gallant rescue by Klyk of a woman who has been abducted by one of the bandits. Outside, a horse paws the ground in rhythm with his rider who strums a guitar and sings "O Susanna."

When the Sheriff reappears the bandits kill him, shoot up the saloon and escape. Klyk searches the place for any of them who may be hiding. In one of his typical laconic asides, difficult to translate into English, he says: Oczy musi miec w dupie (A man has got to have eyes in his behind) He looks upstairs, comes down, orders a beer and nonchalantly blows off the foam. Now comes the sensational part as Buffalo Bill makes his appearance. He stands under a sign that advertises his own "Buffalo Bill. Show," walks inside the saloon and poses under his poster. Klyk sees him and in an off-film voice talks about the killing "of many thousands of bisons." He and Buffalo Bill briefly eye each other at door as the accordion plays the "Star Spangled Banner." The bandits, clearly afraid, run away as Buffalo Bill stands briefly outside under the Stars and Stripes. This is the Buffalo Bill of later years when he resembled more and more General Custer, the long blond hair and mustaches a carbon copy of the victim of Little Big Horn. Indeed, some may see a suggestion of a Christ-like face in this portrayal of Buffalo Bill. The poster artist Jakub Erol, captures a similar idea in his 1978 poster Buffalo Bill and the Indians or Sitting Bull's History Lesson. (plate 56) The face of Paul Newman bears a close resemblance to Buffalo Bill but the likeness is glued to aging and deteriorating wooden slats. Although the myth is still with us, it has become a victim of time. Another poster of Buffalo Bill by the artist Jan Sawka designed in 1975 for Arthur Kopit's play Buffalo Bill and the Indians or Sitting Bulls's History Lesson is in keeping with the changing views of America's treatment of the Indians.(plate 57) Here Buffalo Bill is an image of a human skull with a hippie headband, whose design of stars and stripes lampoons patriotism is typical of the Viet Nam protest era.

As the film ends, Klyk meets two U.S. army men driving a coach. It is the ubiquitous 58th Cavalry. These are obviously his countrymen from Silesia who sing Polish songs. In the final scene the bandits reappear, kill the two soldiers and steal a chest with money. Klyk comes across the bodies of the soldiers and buries them. "How sad that they die so far from home. They missed their Silesia. Too bad that their bones will lie so far from homeland." He swears that he will avenge them. The Sheriff comes upon the bandits as they examine the loot but is shot and left to die as they go back to the saloon. Klyk reappears, shoots all the bandits and takes his gold. The Sheriff reappears miraculously, and recovers the U.S. Cavalry ensign from the dead robbers. On the crosses of the graves of the murdered cavalrymen Klyk sees a sign Slazak "Silesian," and the date, 1880. He drapes the regimental ensign on one of the crosses, returns to the saloon and orders drinks. It's the end.

Klyk does not forget his homeland. That is a very Polish sentiment. It is a feeling that affects all Poles regardless of their station in life. When the Pope visited the Czestochowa shrine in Poland in 1978 the crowds bade him goodbye by singing: Goralu czy ci nie zal, opuscic swoj dom ojczysty. (Mountaineer, are you not sad to abandon your father's home?) The Pope reportedly said to them: "Don't sing this again or I shall start crying." When Klyk buries his Silesian friends and expresses sorrow that their bones lie so far from home, he is voicing a very authentic Polish sadness, a realization that for so many of them both life and death are associated with foreign lands.

Klyk's amateur "kielbasa Westerns" in their own way highlight the behavior that represents to the Polish audience the freedom-loving Westerner and they show what in the eyes of Poles should be the spirit of men away from home. In a recent popular Polish film Szczesliwego Nowego Jorku (In Happy New York), shot in the streets of Greenpoint in Brooklyn, the director does his best to show the immigrant in the worst possible light. But in an interesting sequence, one of the more experienced newcomers tries to contrast the Polish pejorative word morda, roughly translated as "mug, with the idea of a "smile," an American facial habit clearly difficult to replicate in Eastern Europe. He tells the recent immigrants to look into a mirror, get rid of the morda and practice smiling. It is his way of showing the difference between the attitude of an angry newcomer and a successful resident. Klyk's films portray a life of conflict, of defiance of authority, of acquiring skills that assure survival. His character learns how to use a gun to protect himself and to enforce a rough code of justice. They must quickly distinguish between friend and foe and reward loyalty. He must be prepared to lose or gain all with a deck of cards. It is even important to know how to slide the beer mug to the end of the counter. The gambler instinct, the sense of danger, all these are made to reflect not only an American scene but what are assumed to be universal codes for manhood. But it also shows a desperate struggle to be accepted, to succeed, to overcome a frontier mentality and to find contentment. And to smile.

Posters have been designed by artists all over the world but there is something unique about the Polish poster. It may be said that it is a product of a history that more than any other seems to fit into that narrow rectangular space that a poster represents, a nation hammered by adversity into a compactness but which at the same time contains extraordinary variety and complexity of symbols and icons. It is this history that gives the poster simultaneously its Polishness and its universality.

In the 19th century Polish graphic art was strong in the applied arts, folk art and architecture. Typography became an important part of the art work. The first International Exhibition of the Poster took place in Cracow in 1898 and it showed the development of the above themes as prominent artists turned their attention to posters. The Society for Polish Commercial Art was established in 1901. Lithographs which had the characteristics of an illustrated book made it clear that a new type of image was being created, one that was to be read as well seen. Elena G. Millie, the print curator at the Library of Congress and an authority on the Polish poster wrote recently in a book she co-authored with Zbigniew Kantorosinski, The Polish Poster: From Young Poland Through the Second World War that "instead of adding text to the bottom, or top of the image in the traditional fashion, [other] artists ... made typography an integral part of the artwork."[33]

From the late 19h century until Poland achieved its independence in 1918, the Polish poster continued on its path of fostering a national identity, reflecting the folk themes that were a strong element of that approach. Polish artists were influenced by developments in poster design taking place in the West and the ornamental and abstract influence can be seen in the work of Polish poster artists of that period. Of the Western artists, no one was more influential than Jules Cheret whose pioneering work in lithography, particularly the use of color, was to be widely imitated. Polish artists such as Jozef Mehoffer, Wojciech Weiss, Teodor Axentowicz and Karol Frycz were especially adept at this new style of incorporating abstract and ornamental features in their work. 1897 they formed a Society of Polish Artists (often referred to as Sztuka (Art) which led to the first International Exposition of the poster in Cracow in 1898. Soon other organizations for Polish poster artists were formed.

The establishment of a Polish state in 1918 changed the direction of the Polish poster. The center of art shifted from Cracow to Warsaw and the character of Polish poster now was more in tune with the national demands of the new state. These trends can be clearly seen in the vivid and even brutal posters that were designed during the Russo-Polish war in 1920 and the struggle to retain Upper Silesia within the new Poland. These posters showed a power and sharpness not exhibited earlier and included elements of cubism, photomontage and constructivism never before seen in Polish graphic arts.

The inter-war years from 1918-1939 were marked by outstanding personalities in the field of the commercial poster, the artist most honored for his work being Tadeusz Gronowski, who together with the well-known French designer A.M. Cassandre made air-brush work and Art Deco styles popular. The Polish travel posters, particularly those sponsored by the national rail system, were a colorful addition to the work of these artists, Stefan Norblin's being an outstanding example of this colorful and stylized art. This period was also notable for the impact that the Warsaw Polytechnical Institute had on poster designers, the number of outstanding poster artists who were also architects being extremely high to this day.

The 1930's witnessed an increasing number of advertising posters and the formation in 1933 of a professional organization called KAGR (Graphic Artists Advertising Circle), founded by Gronowski and Edmund Bartlomieyczyk, which eventually included most of the well-known graphic artists. The worldwide economic depression which struck Poland by 1935 necessitated increase use of commercial design to foster economic growth. There were now publications such as Reklama (Advertising) which encouraged publicity and competition among the poster artists. The Academy of Fine Arts in Warsaw finally joined the ranks of prestigious art academies in offering courses in graphic art.

Few countries in history have suffered the damage inflicted on Poland in World War II. Both invaders, Nazi Germany and Soviet Russia, sought to destroy Poland's elites. The only posters seen in Poland were those of the occupiers decreeing death and punishing an enslaved people. But the war period produced in the surviving generation a spirit of rebelliousness and inventiveness that was characteristic of the Polish people during the earlier period of their national existence. A land of powerful symbols, particularly religious ones, Poles defied the Germans by chalking on their walls initials PW, which stood for Polska Walczy (Poland Fights On). These symbols took the place of posters and trained an entire generation to express political freedom in visual terms. Future Polish poster would be characterized by that irreverence and daring that was the signature of underground activity. The end of the war did not end the oppression. Communist authorities banned such symbols as the crowned eagle (a symbol of Poland's past glory) and portraits of Marshal Pilsudski, the beloved national leader who died in 1935 [34].

The damages inflicted by war were quickly healed as some surviving artists began once again to gather students and organize the departments of art. Such accomplished artists as Thadeusz Trepkowski, Eryk Lipinski and Josef Mroszczak were joined by those who survived the occupation, Gronowski and Henryk Tomaszewski. An organization of artists called WAG (Wydawnictwo Artystyczno-Graficzne) was founded in 1950 and published the periodical Projekt devoted to printing and design, a publication that continues to this day. It has awarded prizes to worthy candidates and encouraged competition among poster designers.

How did it happen that after World War II posters could thrive in Poland under Communism? Anna Husarska provides an excellent summation: "It was the result of a particularly felicitous combination of factors. First, the totalitarian state with unlimited funds at its disposal turned out to be a very good patron. Second, given the general shortages of everything from toilet paper to washing machines, posters weren't really about advertising, they were art for art's sake. Third, the primitive state of printing techniques precluded any easy, conventional use of photographs, so the artists were obliged to be more creative. The isolation from the artistic currents in the West was an advantage, too: Polish artists had to follow their own, original path. And because in Poland there was no art market to speak of (art dealers were considered ‘rotten bourgeois'), poster-making offered one of the few opportunities for artists and designers to practice their profession." [35] The climate may have proven advantageous to creativity and productivity but the success of the Polish poster school also resulted from the extraordinary talents of the artists.

The Polish poster of that period has been capably analyzed by Szymon Bojko, one of the foremost authorities of the genre. The author who was also on the editorial board of Projekt and has been the visiting Professor of Design at the Rhode Island school of Design, has discussed the two chief directions taken by the design of the Polish poster, the emotional and the intellectual. The former was notable for a "painter's poster," a sensual approach characterized by emphasis on color and texture. The second, relied on a light, ironical touch, on graphic jokes "produced with charm and finesse." Bojko stressed the creative use of typography with the lettering sometimes borrowed from past forms, as in the example of Franciszek Starowieyski. Other artists, in the words of Bojko, "became fascinated by the flamboyant style of the Wild West saloons taken from films about the conquest of the Wild West."[36]

In addition to Tomaszewski and Lipinski, artists whose styles that were not only individualistic but filled with humor and spontaneity, there soon followed a group of similar free spirits. Waldemar Swierzy, Starowieyski, Mlodozeniec, Roman Cieslewicz, Hubert Hilscher, and Jan Lenica who with their varied styles shared with their mentors that spirit of whimsicality and unpredictability that were to become the hallmark of the Polish poster. Tomaszewski and Mroszczak became teachers in the Warsaw Academy of Fine Arts. Onegin Dabrowski, Jakub Erol, Marek Freudenreich, Maria (Mucha) Ihnatowicz, Jolanta Karczewska, Andrzej Krajewski, Lech Majewski, Jacek Neugebauer and Wojciech Wenzel were students of Tomaszewski.

Poster artists led a bifurcated existence, often conforming to the demands of Communist officialdom while doing their best to bite the hand that both fed them and restrained them. The confrontations that involved primarily a more assertive workers' movement which started in earnest in the 1960's came to a head in the next decade. The 1970's ushered in a political phase for the Polish poster as political unrest mounted and by the end of the decade a strike in the Lenin shipyards introduced to the world's lexicon the word Solidarnosc (Solidarity), a movement that found an echo in the rest of Eastern Europe. The poster artists were soon at the forefront of the struggle when Jerzy Janiszewski designed the famous Solidarnosc logo which was then widely used all over the world as a symbol of freedom. The shipyard in Poland where the strike took place was festooned with signs and posters, most of them hand-made, and soon a veritable industry of poster-making developed as the streets of Poland came to resemble art galleries. Polish artists who emigrated took part in this as Polish communities in Paris, London, and New York printed their own versions of the Solidarity poster. In New York, Rafal Olbinski designed a memorable image for Solidarity in his poster for Andrzej Wajda's film Man of Iron. In this image, a cement band that has encased a worker's head has burst graphically illustrating the power of the individual. Thoughts had been free; now they exploded in action. Solidarity's adoption of the image from High Noon in the 1989 elections was a logical extension: the central theme of this classic Western represents the universal dream of the individual overcoming overwhelming odds.

Polish film poster has had a respectable and interesting history within the general evolution of the Polish poster. Still, the design of film posters had a late start and for some time it was not considered as prestigious as the posters designed for theater or other arts. Few have been able to comment on the history of the Polish film poster better than Edmund P. Lewandowski, an authority on the subject. In his essay: "Like a Fish Needs a Bicycle," in Krzysztof Dydo's Polski Plakat Filmowy "Polish Film Poster," published for the 100th anniversary of the cinema in Poland, 1896-1996, Lewandowski set the tone for his account by quoting Jan Lenica who compared the poster to a Trojan horse. The idea that the poster was "smuggled" onto the street where it became something that no one expected, can be applied to Polish posters in general, but it was particularly appropriate for the film poster. No one expected the Polish film poster to be anything other than the ordinary advertising posters that appeared in other countries. After all, it was the film not the poster that was supposed to bring in the crowds. But as it happened, the Polish film poster became an end in itself. It transformed the increasingly oppressive postwar government-mandated style by "smuggling"into it artistic expressions that were officially frowned on. Lewandowski's words suggest that the poster could be more than the movie it advertises. It not only interpreted the film but it also made additional "statements" that could only be conveyed by an artist.[37]

This "reading" and "visualizing" of the film without any reference to the film itself deserves more attention than it has received. Appearing to be a harmless advertisement, it was an art with a message in the disguise of ephemera. Produced in multiples, the posters were meant to be pasted to kiosks, walls or billboards and then torn down or glued over with others. (Plate 58). A poster has a short life span, and like an exotic flower it must display itself dramatically to attract maximum attention. The message must come across quickly and effectively or be lost. Posters literally appeared overnight and brightened up the streets. Poles would look forward to seeing the most recent crop while walking, cycling, or waiting for buses or trains. It also became fashionable to hang them in kitchens and living rooms "although at the time the only way to obtain a poster was to catch the man with the glue bucket just as he was about to paste one on a fence and offer him a few zlotys or a half a litre of vodka."[38] Mass produced and mass consumed, Polish film posters would be seen by many more people than would see the movies themselves. The poster artist's visual interpretation of Westerns, often produced without reference to the films themselves, and in pursuit of another agenda, exerted profound influence on Polish popular perceptions of America.

Film Polski (Polish Film) agency had a lot to do with the growing popularity of the film poster. With its manager, Aleksander Ford, this government agency gave considerable freedom to the designers of the film poster, freedom not given to other poster artists in the post war period. Movie directors were not terribly enthusiastic about using "Artistic" posters to advertise films. The agreement of three prominent artists in 1946 to work together on film posters, Lipinski, Tomaszewski and Trepkowski, assured success and participation of prominent designers with Film Polski in the making of film posters. [39]

Tomaszewski and Lipinski were the first to produce posters for Westerns. Tomaszewski's 1947 Zwyciezcy Stepow illustrated the 1946 film produced by British-Pathe, The Overlanaders. (Plate 98) Set in World War II Australia, it was based on a true story of cattlemen driving their herds south to avoid Japanese invaders. In a nod to Sienkiewicz, Tomaszewski's title translates as Conquerors of the Steppes. The artist appeals to his audience by catering to its point of reference. The Australian Outback, in this movie located within the genre of the Western, becomes in the poster the steppes of present -day Kazakhstan, the Polish equivalent. This striking image features a mounted cowboy in full gear astride a beautiful pinto. Tomaszewski's work was highly influential with his students and other artists, as can be seen in such later works as Adam Bowbelski's 1957 Indianski wojownik (the Indian fighter) 1955.(see plate 100)

Even though he said that he "respected graphic artists do not design film posters," Lipinski and others soon turned to that medium as the ideal vehicle for their talents. The country was devastated, the population in a state of shock, viewing films, particularly the technically superior American ones, was a psychological release for the people and a rare opportunity for the graphic artist. Soon there was a veritable flood of excellent film posters. In 1947 Lipinski designed a poster for Znak Zorro (Mark of Zorro) (plate 60) his first poster of a Western, a wonderful image of a galloping horseman, cape flying, the image seen through a bricked fort window, reminiscent of a prison. The character's signature Z crosses the title. The theme of flight and pursuit, suggestions of metamorphosis, incarceration or death accompanying acts of violence, and dramatic typographical elements incorporated into the artwork, soon became standard fare for Polish poster illustrating Westerns.

Polish officials tried to impose the rules of Socialist Realism in order to banish American influence from the arts. Extra copies of posters advertising American films were not safe from the arms of the censoring officials, making such copies rare and thus more valuable for collectors nowadays. Capitalism and Cosmopolitanism were the evil influence. Soviet norms were held up as models in the arts. Propaganda posters were the order of the day, with "blatant gestures, redness of slogans, dazzling brightness of colors, incredible amount of exclamation and question marks, [and] a monotonous style," in the words of Lewandowski. The posters had to be for or against something.[40]

But there was still a margin of safety for the creativity of the Polish film poster designer. In the early 1950's there was set up the Centralna Wynajma Filmow "The Central Film Rental Agency" that distributed films, an agency separate from Film Polski. The CWF did not oppose artistic posters. Of course the artist still had to obtain the censor's "stamp of approval," but more importantly, the artists first submitted their designs to a Board that was made up of Tomaszewski, Lipinski, Fangor, and Mroszczak. Now a new group of artists began to appear for the film poster. Lenica, Wojciech Fangor, Julian Palka, Swierzy, Mlodozeniec, Cieslewicz and Starowieyski. The work of these artists infused the film poster with imagination and interest and now the Polish film poster could be safely viewed as an art form. These posters were characterized by humor and color. The character was emphasized. As Zdzislaw Schubert, the curator of the Poster Museum in Poznan put it, the Polish poster was "a satirical depiction with a note of sarcasm."[41] Elements not allowed in other branches of art such as avant-garde and surrealism could be explored in the design of film posters. Indeed, the stultifying demands of socialist-realism, a style of art fostered in Russia and demanded of the Polish artists by the Communist party, a pattern brilliantly lampooned by Nobel laureate Czeslaw Milosz in his work "Captive Mind," challenged artists to experiment with new forms.

It was Tomaszewski who expressed the spirit of the early and heady years of film posters. He praised the competition that existed among the poster artists and drew attention their new style which he called an "innovative, unconventional approach to the subject." Like the films they portrayed, the posters were designed to be shortened graphic forms that gave the impression of film clips. Reading Tomaszewski's words and looking at the early film posters one can see that what came to be called eventually the "Polish poster style" began in the film posters. Without too many rules governing their product, the artists created a new form of poster, blending different ideas, using the angles of cameras, imitating the full shot and close up. There are several examples of this style in posters for Westerns. Wojciech Fangor's 1957 Ostatnia Walka Apacza (Apache, 1954) features a red and green outline of an Indian profile with a feathered headdress and four black and white photographs from the film inside the profile; Stanislaw Zamecznik's 1963 Dwa Oblicza Zemsty (One-eyed Jacks, 1961) the image of cowboys with guns drawn resembles a photographic negative; (Plate 110) Maria Syska's 1965 Osiodlac Wiatr (Saddle the Wind, 1958) uses stop-action photography to provide a "moving" image for a galloping horse; (Plate 112) Jacek Neugebauer instills a similar sense of movement into his 1974 poster Jeremiah Johnson, for the 1972 American film of the same title. (Plate 61) Here, a slow motion effect heightens the violence of a gunfight. Jerzy Flisak's 1978 Inny Meszczyzna, Inna Szansa (Another Man, Another Chance, 1977) cleverly shows the cowboy in an upside-down image inside a turn-of-the-century camera; (plate 62) and in Jolanta Karczynska's 1965 Zloto Alaski (North to Alaska, 1960) the faces of John Wayne and Stewart Granger are highlighted with photographic offset dots while the artist introduces a suggestion of both history and fiction by illustrating at the top of the poster a man in period clothing using an old-fashioned camera on a tripod. (plate 63)

At first, Polish posters were appreciated more abroad than at home. As Tomaszewski has said in his self-deprecating style, the posters were considered to be only good enough to wrap herrings in. In truth the film poster was more like an escape valve for the artist. He was one of the few artists whose work was not screened for a social message. The film poster seemed eminently suited to the Polish taste. It was melancholy and even grotesque. Wojciech Wenzel's 1959 Jezdziec Znikad (Shane, 1953) provides a good example of this as does Maciej Hibner's 1966 poster Czarny Dzien w Black Rock (Bad Day at Black Rock, 1955); Jacek Neugebauer's 1967 Major Dundee for the 1965 film of the same title, and Marek Freudenreich's 1975 Msciciel (High Plains Drifter, 1973). (see frontispiece, plates 125,64,124) In these four posters, the featured characters appear dark, sinister, and disturbing. They reek of death...

Few of the then younger designers have been more influential than Lenica. In 1970, he wrote: "The visual image has always been a universal means of communication and significance has grown hand-in-hand with the rapid development of the means of communication. Image has always had one advantage over words: it has been unequivocal. Words are usually ambiguous...even in the Bible there is a reference to God confusing men's tongues, but there is no mention of Him interfering with their eyesight." [42]. According to Lenica, film took over from literature the function of story-telling, providing the ideal medium by combining movement and time. It came at a very opportune time when other literature abandoned the idea of story telling as it was practiced in the realistic novel of the 19th century. The greatest contribution to film were made by surrealists. They could reveal the subconscious and not just to reproduce the theater. By extension, film poster art also could portray the subconscious.

Lenica suggested that the essence of the Polish poster lay in the equal application of the principles of defense and attack. The poster had to be defended from the very environment in which it was placed, it had to confront an architectural setting that is not necessarily meant for it. The poster has to struggle against the attitudes of a public that may be indifferent or even hostile. According to Lenica, the only means available to the poster artist lay in his capacity to surprise the viewer. Resemblance to other posters destroyed that power. The Polish poster, unlike the propaganda or commercial posters relies on the power of the creator's intellect rather than on conveying someone else's ideas.[43]

The power to attack, confront and surprise the viewer can be seen strikingly in three examples drown from the Western posters. In Maciej Zbikowski's 1971 Byl tu Willie Boy (Tell them Willlie Boy is Here, 1969) and Kazimierz Lrolikowski's 1967 poster Rzeka bez powrotu (River of No Return, 1954) the viewer finds himself facing the barrel of a shotgun at precisely the moment the trigger is about to be pulled. (plates 65,66) By his hat, the killer is identified as a cowboy, but because he is anonymous and illusive–a silhouette in the first, a cutout in the second---the act of violence assumes universal meaning. Maciej Hibner's 1968 Strzaly o zmierschu (Ride the High Country, 1962) is also loaded with dramatic tension. Here we find ourselves facing another assassin. The gun-fighter, arms by his side in classic preparation, is about to burst through the saloon doors and blast away. Through direct engagement, the artist draws the viewer powerfully into the image.

I used to wonder why one of my relatives who escaped the Nazi inferno was so addicted to watching the American westerns. Night after night, bone-weary, he would seat himself in front of the television set and watch the reruns of Gene Autry, Lone Ranger and Roy Rogers. Indeed, to this day, as a widower, when he has not planned some social activity for the weekend, he still refers to himself as a "lone ranger." I am sure that to him, especially because of his experiences in Europe, the Western represented America, a place where the act of a courageous individual could make a difference, a society that considered justice a cherished concept and where evil acts would not go unpunished.

Since the days of early silent film. through Westerns America has exported a vision of itself abroad. It was a triumphal narrative, a drama played out against an awe-inspiring landscape, a story of good overcoming evil. People everywhere could identify with the Western hero and his struggle against both the forces of nature and enemies of law and order. It was history come to life, each film replicating with apparent authenticity the saga of the West, a romantic view of the past ever more important as the frontier receded further into memory. The Westerns presented an America that, compared to Europe, was practically without history, where the past had more to do with sentiment and nostalgia than an immutable historical record. Most important, the Western strengthened a universal yearning for simpler times, when issues were less complex and an individual could influence the outcome. It was, to be sure, a one-sided story, an epic in which the hero was free to use physical power to overcome the enemy. Few expressed concern with the underlying premise that most problems could be solved and evil eradicated by using deadly force. But in Poland, poster artists challenged this assumption.

The Polish poster artists have produced a body of work that offers an unusual interpretation of the Western. In contrast to posters produced in other countries, their designs managed to produce images which, while retaining the character of mass art, nevertheless took an intellectual approach and appealed to a population whose sophistication and discrimination had been born of a horrendous wartime experience. In the postwar period the Polish mind was honed to a razor-sharpness through a crude state propaganda that sought to eliminate individual taste and opinion. The Polish poster artist had to walk an ideological tightrope, maintaining his artistic integrity while preserving a livelihood. Through the use of imaginative subject matter, bold imagery and dark humor, the Polish poster artist presented to the public a side of the Westerns that broadened and sharpened an understanding of the issues underpinning the film and the characters in it. The body of work they have produced provides a fascinating Eastern European commentary on the myth of the American West.

Polish poster artists have always been adept at the use of symbols. Indeed, this is has been one of the most important weapons of an artist in a society where words have been suspect, one in which icons and even colors associated with the Catholic religious faith provide a code understood by on and all. The posters for westerns show a wide range of symbols. American icons of the West such as the Winchesters, Colts, cowboy attire, particularly hats, and sheriff's badges are often used, as have been pictorial reminders of wartime as in the case of Lugers and jackboots. Jan Mlodozeniec's 1972 poster, Niebieski Zolnierz (Soldier Blue) illustrated a very violent Western about the Sand Creek Massacre of 1864,(plate 68) but it also incorporates World War II imagery. A soldier's footwear bears an iron cross and is reminiscent of Nazi jackboots, which stride threateningly. A large, tear-shaped drop of blood falls from the soldier's rifle stock, providing a moving elegy for all those lost in the war. Wiktor Gorka's 1967 poster for Cat Ballou portrays in outline a cowgirl holding a gun that, upon closer inspection resembles a German Luger. (plate 69) In the movie, a comedy, the daughter turns outlaw heroine to protect her father from a vicious gunman. The 1965 American film and its 1967 poster both recognize that women were gaining ground in their respective societies. Six years later, Gorka produced another strong portrait of a cowgirl. In his 1973 poster Krolowe dzikiego zachody (The Legend of Frenchie King, 1971) he captures both the glamour of the leading ladies, Brigitte Bardot and Claudia Cardinale and the comedy in the plot.(plate 70) A masked protagonist aims a six-shooter toward the viewer, but this gunfighter has long chestnut hair and wears eye shadow and nail polish. Prior to Cat Ballou strong roles for women had been largely absent in Westerns and few portraits of females as central characters appeared in Polish Western film posters. The Western is dynamic, ever adjusting to the interests, concerns and sensitivities of its audience. The same can be said of the Polish poster.

These visually simple and yet complex images raise many important questions, the central one being that of violence. Other themes, such as flight and pursuit, authority as well as defiance of it, the portraits of killers and the weapons they use, threats, confrontations and the consequences that emerge from it are expressed in myriad ways. Other associated ideas such as anonymity, dysfunction, metamorphosis and transcendence are treated artistically and thematically. At times the posters assume the viewpoint of the victim, a concept more than familiar to the viewing public in Poland. Violence is portrayed as a negative element causing death and destruction, an idea that is visually most powerful in a country where destruction of wartime is still a visible presence, and indeed preserved as a reminder. In emphasizing violence the artist was able to kill two birds with one stone. Is it an American Indian looking down a gun barrel or a victims of Nazi or Soviet occupation? The artist surely sees the Westerns as themes of both aggression and subjugation. Some of them experienced such feelings in their own lifetimes. After all, there is hardly a family in Poland that cannot tell stories of martyrdom and suffering. On the one hand there is the inclination to follow the official line about America as a land where violence is an ever-present danger. But it also reminds Poles of their historical helplessness against enemies and serves as a release against the numbness that comes from an individual's feeling of defenselessness. But in the final analysis illustrating a Western has to mean more than a comment on American "imperialism" or Polish "colonialism." It makes possible a comment on universal abhorrence of violence as a means for resolving conflicts.

"One of the reasons the Western has maintained its hold on our imagination," Larry McMurtry once observed, "is because it offers an acceptable orientation to violence." [44] But for Poles, it seems, violence is never acceptable. In Polish poster of the Western it is always a negative force. Westerns remind Poles of their historical helplessness against enemies, yet serve as a release from the numbness that accompanies defenselessness. Poles root for the power of the individual vested in Gary Cooper or John Wayne, yet they can also empathize with their fallen opponents. This conflict surfaces clearly within the Polish posters, yet seldom if ever, within the movies they portray.

Marian Stachurski's 1958 poster Rekord Annie. (Annie Get Your Gun, 1950) furnishes an excellent example of the surprise, powers of suggestion and complexities inherent in Polish poster art of the Western.(plate 71) In contrast to the innocence of the musical it illustrates, Stachurski's poster contains a dark, powerful and disturbing message. Using a folk art style, the poster plays off the musical elements of the movie. A Madonna-like Annie Oakley is at the center, radiant as if standing in a beam of celestial light, her hat resembling a halo. She wears the trappings of cowgirl costuming, but with the addition of a baby's bib sporting the motif AO. (for Annie Oakley).This reference to childhood suggests that the heroine considers the rifle she carries a toy. Annie Oakley is a Wild West performer, a showgirl, but guns kill. This is, after all, the woman who fearlessly performed such feats as shooting cigarettes out of the mouths of crowned heads of Europe! As she stands ready to receive the plaudits of the audience, her rifle aims right at the head of an Indian chief levitating directly above her. Is he oblivious to danger, suicidal, smoking a peace pipe represented by the gun or just high on peyote?

Clearly something is wrong here. The poster has the appearance of a gaudy carnival ride gone out of control, to the accompaniment of distorted hurdy-gurdy music. The record is revolving counter-clockwise, Annie's gun serving as an arm on the imaginary turntable. One could surmise that there may be some gender overtones contrasting Annie's femininity with the masculine West, but then why is Frank Butler, the man lying at the bottom of the poster trying to fix his hat while looking up Annie's skirt? The two strong figures on flanking Annie are Pawnee Bill on the left, the colors and angles of his cravat suggesting a disjointed American flag, and Buffalo Bill on the right, the latter suicidally sporting target motifs on his buckskin jacket. Displaying excellent draftsmanship, Stachurski's tightly drawn angles complement and heighten the strongly anticyclical construction of the central message.

The figures in Rekord Annie resemble puppets, or cutouts, placed in the foreground, middleground and background of the poster. Stachurski used the same spatial technique again to good effect a year later in his important poster for High Noon.(see plate 103) In 1965 he returned to a folk art style in Jeden przeciw wszystkim (The Sheepman) (The Sheepman, 1958). (plate 72) Again, Stachurski creates a fairground effect, the horsemen shooting at their adversaries from merry-go-round mounts. The poster is reminiscent of a scene from the 1964 film Mary Poppins, in which Julie Andrews, Dick Van Dyke and the children gleefully bound over a fantasy English landscape on detached carvival horses. But the ride in Stachurski's poster seems about to end less happily. The horsemen blindly pursue their quarry, oblivious to the danger staring them in the face. In the foreground, a six-gun points straight at them from point blank range and a finger is on the trigger.

In 1983 Andrzej Pagowski designed three posters for the 1969 movie Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid starring Paul Newman and Robert Redford. One is a playful representation of a comic strip, the violence seemingly as imaginary as the word "Bang" signifying that someone may be shot. Yet even here, in a small circular insert, the "heroes" appear as bloody corpses. (Plate 73) In his other poster, Pagowski goes beyond the film's final sequence to represent the end that would befall Butch and Sundance. (Plate 74) In stark contrast to the simple black on white outlines delineating the two subjects, the red blood splotches left by the exploding bullets tell the price they will pay for defying conventions. Waldemar Swierzy, one of the best known and most widely respected of all Polish poster artists also designed a poster for the movie. Swierzy adopts a design similar to Pagowski's second poster but instead uses rich sepia tones, reminiscent of an old photograph to link history to the movie's fiction. The image is bloodier, but disturbingly this time Butch and Sundance are smiling, in defiance of authority and unaware of their impending fate.

remember that when I purchased my first posters in 1983 I was struck by these Pagowski images. The young man who sold them to me had just come to America and he wove a mysterious story about them. He told me that that Polish authorities had considered these posters particularly subversive because of the suggestion of official violence and that the posters had to be smuggled out of the country in a fisherman's case and that the blood spatters had to be added abroad, perhaps in Italy. When I first displayed the posters to the American public I repeated that story. It seemed believable but I never confirmed it with the artists.

Swierzy had designed other outstanding Western posters. His 1961 poster work Vera Cruz was an early example of a style that would become his signature.(plate 75) The face of the actor is blurred and smudged in an effect that preserves the likeness and character of the protagonist, while emphasizing the transient nature of life in the West. In 1978 Swierzy created two posters for Westerns that presented a similar theme. Across the Great Divide, 1977, is a scenic Western in which two orphans journey to Oregon in 1876 to claim inherited land. Swierzy's colorful poster Przez Gory Skaliste features a girl's head in the sky, looking down upon a rocky landscape.(plate 76) She is surrounded by clouds and has become one with the elements. To make sure the viewer does not miss the point, the word "Western" at the top is underlined. Swierzy's Przelomy Missouri (The Missouri Breaks, 1976) displays a further evolution of his style. (Plate 77) This film with Marlon Brando and Jack Nicholson about Montana ranchers and rustlers who fight over land and a hired killer who has a shoot-out with a horse thief, was called by one of the critics a "savage, unpleasant Western." In the Swierzy's poster, an enormous head of the cowboy seems to grow out of the prairie itself. The protagonist may be still alive but his cause is clearly a lost one. Prairie grass is mixed with his own hair and struggles out of the crown of the hat, while red splotches on the poster, in striking contrast to the dark blue of the entire image, tell the story of death and destruction. The cowboy is turning into earth. The eyes of the doomed man are the most arresting feature of this poster. They seem to have seen the light, but too late.

It is difficult to choose one's favorite western from among the numerous posters of Mlodozeniec since his style of work lends itself so aptly to both the simplicity and complexity of style that a Polish film poster, and particularly the western, represents. His 1975 Sedzia z Teksasu ( The Life and Times of Judge Roy Bean, 1972), (Plate 78) is a film fantasy of a famous outlaw judge in Texas that reflects the man's philosophy: "I want peace and I don't care who I kill to get it." The self-destructive lawman, portrayed as a yellow silhouette wearing a gun belt, his body already full of bullet holes even as he reaches for his gun, presents an image of a shootist for whom violence has become the standard way of administering justice. Mlodozeniec humorously captures the absurdity and insanity of a shoot-out. The gunfighter, an icon of the mythical Old West has been reduced to a slice of Swiss cheese.

The 1973 movie Oklahoma Crude, set in 1913, is a story of a drifting oilman who stops to help a woman set up her rig. In Mlodozeniec's 1975 Tak Byla Oklahoma, the brave and assertive figure of a woman in a long dress dominates, as a large glob of oil oozes from her rifle barrel. (Plate 79) The glob reminds us of the drop of blood in Mlodozeniec's earlier poster for Soldier Blue. (see Plate 68) It was a film that one critic described as a "story of wooden derricks, iron men and a defiant woman." The woman is flanked by two figures, her helper in light outline to the left and on the right her adversary who wears a bowler and sports the cigar, both symbols of the exploiter. What is interesting is how the artist managed through the positioning of the figures to show the strength of the heroine and the almost negligible figures of both her friend and her adversary.

Mlodozeniec's brilliant use of color makes his 1976 poster Swiat Dzikiego Zachodu (West-World, 1973) (plate 80) a truly memorable poster. The film is the futuristic story of a holiday resort which recreates the past. Despite the suggestion that: "nothing can possibly go wrong," a robot bandit goes berserk and attacks two visitors. In Mlodozeniec's work,