NEW BRITAIN — Without leaving Broad Street, people can do their banking, order lunch, book plane tickets, buy groceries, take a driving lesson and even close on a house purchase — all in Polish.
The section of the city called Little Poland is flourishing.
This month alone, Broad Street is hosting at least four ribbon-cuttings: Two for new restaurants, one for the freshly installed “Welcome to Little Poland” sign and another for the expansion of the Polish Falcons Nest’s hall.
Every April, the Little Poland Festival draws thousands of visitors and vendors from across New England. Next weekend brings New Britain’s 35th annual Dozynki, the biggest version in Connecticut of the 1,000-year-old traditional Polish harvest festival.
“It’s not just that this area grew years ago — it’s still growing now, it’s still happening,” said Adrian Baron, president of the Polonia Business Association. “Every month or two there’s something new coming, a graphics business, a bakery shop, a restaurant.”
A century ago, Broad Street and surrounding areas were simply another haven for recent immigrants, similar to dozens of German, Lithuanian, Italian or French sections of industrial-era cities across Connecticut. The difference today, though, is remarkable: while most of those ethnic enclaves are withered or vanished, Little Poland is stronger than ever.
It is an anomaly, the equivalent of a New England Grange Hall that’s somehow thriving and expanding in a century when most are barely hanging on with little more than elderly members and well-worn memories.
Broad Street merchants and community leaders offer a variety of explanations: The loyalty of second- and third-generation Polish-Americans who have moved to places like Newington or Rocky Hill but come back regularly. Perhaps the strong bonds of the towering Sacred Heart Church that still draws thousands to its Masses every weekend. Others suggest the continuing influx of new immigrants keeps alive the need for Polish services and stores.
Monsignor Dan Plocharczyk of Sacred Heart says all those things are true, and suggests one more possibility: The neighborhood has built a critical mass of authentic Polish culture that reaches freshly arrived immigrants, first- and second- generation American citizens and casual tourists alike. When a visitor marvels at the staggering breadth of imported Polish foods in the delis and markets, Plocharczyk is unfazed.
“Little Poland is just that — a little Poland. If you were to be blindfolded and walk into a store in the real Poland, you would find almost the same things that you have here. The church, all these little stores and bakeries and little restaurants,” he said. “I’ve been to Poland a couple of times. Sometimes when I look around here, I could swear I was there.”
The section is home to more than 100 storefronts and second-floor businesses, and Baron says better than 70 of them are run by Polish Americans. For about three quarters of a mile along Broad, signs and menus are mostly in both Polish and English, and business names are distinctive: Cracovia, Staropolska, the Poldarex gift shop, JE Flower Shop-Kwiaciarnia, the Krakus meat market and the Rutkowski hardware store.
On a typical Saturday, the shops and bakeries are packed with Polish Americans from around Connecticut and even other states. Near the top of Broad, Sacred Heart dominates the skyline. Many residents say it dominates community life, too. Unlike many urban ethnic churches from a century ago, Sacred Heart stays linked to the American-born children and grandchildren of its earlier members.
“We have numbers that are still loyal and faithful to the parish. On weekends in October, we have seven Masses between Saturday night and Sunday — 3,400 people come,” Plocharczyk said. “We have a wonderful parish school that’s been existence for 119 years. More than 80 percent of the students can track their history to Poland.
“The connectiveness to the parish and being Polish here is strong. I grew up two streets away on High Street. I went to school here, and I am only the fourth pastor,” he said.
The church newsletter goes out in huge numbers to a dozen zip codes in communities around Greater Hartford. Many members moved to the suburbs, but still return every weekend to worship, shop and share coffee or stories with those who still live in the city.
Krystyna Obara’s Quo Vadis gift shop is the sort of store that explains why. She figures she and her husband import 90 percent of their inventory of decorative glassware, jewelry, white-and-red Polska caps and T-shirts and banners and religious items. The walls are lined with Polish translations of popular American bestsellers and a wide rack offers hundreds of Polish music CDs
“When we came here 18 years ago, it was different — maybe a few stores, not much,” she said. “Then more people start coming from Poland and opened businesses. They tried to create the same store or something similar that they had back there, a grocery store maybe, or a spa.”
At Polmart across the street, aisle after aisle is packed with imported Polish provisions: cereals, sodas, energy bars, candies, toothpastes and cleaning supplies. The odd Pepsi logo can be found, but the labels that dominate are more along the lines of Kokstyna, Ludwik, Del Intymna and Zwieczdrol.
Plocharczyk agreed that might explain part of the commercial success of Little Poland, an area better known for derelict buildings, vandalism and graffiti just a decade or two ago. The immigrants of the 1800s and early 1900s arrived mostly as laborers for the factories. The new wave of arrivals are far more likely to bring business experience they can use when setting up shop in New Britain.
Police stepped up patrols for a while in the late 1990s, and New Britain has pumped millions of dollars of improvements into the neighborhood through a multi-year streetscape project that is rebuilding the streets, installing decorative brick sidewalks and adding signs about local history.
As with any neighborhood, Little Poland is not free of problems. The owner of the hugely popular Kasia’s Bakery this summer admitted to filing a false tax return. Prosecutors said he dodged more than $240,000 in federal taxes through the cash-only business.
Last year, a federal judge sentenced the manager of another Broad Street business, Wisla Express, to 14 months in prison and a $20,000 fine. Prosecutors accused him of cheating recent immigrant drivers, maintaining phony trip logs and operating unsafe vehicles in his airport van service. They noted in 2004 he’d been convicted of using his financial service company to defraud two Polish customers of thousands of dollars.
But to longtime residents, there is no question that the overall trend of Little Poland is upward while crime is dramatically down.
“There was a time when people thought, ‘If a crime is committed here, it’s not my problem. If there’s graffiti, why bother painting over it? Why put out flowers?'” Baron said. “But that’s changed. Business started banding together with the police, and now this is almost becoming a touristy area.
“There’s a different attitude now. A guy was throwing rocks at the window of a business a couple of weeks ago, and seven people called the police. If you’re committing a crime or vandalizing something in their neighborhood, we’re calling the police, the business association will be following up in the court,” Baron said.
Sens. Richard Blumenthal and Chris Murphy and U.S. Rep. Elizabeth Esty visit periodically, and Obara’s shop proudly displays a news story about a visit by Gov. Dannel P. Malloy. The neighborhood has become a tour destination for campus Polish clubs from Quinnipiac, the University of Connecticut and Central Connecticut State University, and Polish dignitaries visiting Greater Hartford are almost certain to stop on their way through.
“When my firm bought our office here in 2005, there was a heroin dealer who sat on the [sidewalk] bench all day. Now that bench is where children wait for the school bus,” Baron said. “Now everyone sweeps in front of their business. If one store puts out flowers, the others do — everyone wants this to look good.”
The neighborhood has also done a strong job of weaving in the city’s growing Hispanic population, Baron said. The first restaurant past the “Welcome to Little Poland” sign, for instance, is Coco’s BBQ, a new Caribbean spot.
“We have translations to Polish. We’re in their community, this is their section, so we want them to feel comfortable,” said owner Santa Mora, who was raised in the Dominican Republic. “Everything on Broad Street is closed on Sundays; we’re open. It’s for women who don’t want to cook that day.”
Her son, Ricardo, works the front counter and said Coco’s has been getting a few repeat visits in its first week of operation.
“The people around here made us feel welcome. It’s nice,” he said.
Baron said the proximity of Polish and Spanish cuisines is informally called “kielbasa and que pasa” by residents.
To keep young Polish-Americans loyal to the neighborhood, festivals feature rock bands as well as polka groups, Baron said. It is perhaps the only section of New Britain with its own mascot, a green dinosaur named Stanley. The character makes the rounds of Polish festivals from Middletown to Chicopee, Mass., and beyond to promote Little Poland.
“We use Facebook, we have a Twitter account — does any other neighborhood do that?” he asks. “We put up YouTube videos about Little Poland.”
Plocharczyk said much of the neighborhood’s success is about incorporating the modern while maintaining longtime Polish traditions.
“We try to keep the traditions alive. We’re proud of being Catholic, proud of being Polish and proud of being American,” he said. “We merge all of that together and come up with a beautiful lifestyle.”