THE LEGEND OF “CHICAGO’S SCHINDLER”: INVESTIGATING EUGENE LAZOWSKI’S WWII HEROISM
In 2019, journalist Barbara Necek directed In Search of the Polish Schindler, a documentary tracing the story of Eugene Lazowski, a Polish doctor whose actions during World War II became the subject of an enduring legend. Born in Austria to Polish parents who fled Communism in 1973, Necek was inspired by her own family history. Her grandmother, Maryja Necek, hid a young Jewish woman for over a year in war-torn Poland, risking her own life and that of her family—a real story of courage that left a lasting impression on Necek.
In 2015, Necek came across a Le Figaro article claiming that Lazowski and his colleague, Stanislaw Matulewicz, had saved 8,000 Jews in the village of Rozwadow by creating a fake typhus epidemic. The method, reportedly, involved inoculating villagers with a harmless bacterium, which caused false positives in German typhus tests. Terrified of the disease, the Nazis allegedly avoided the village, allowing thousands to survive. The story was picked up internationally, including by the Chicago Sun Times, which dubbed Lazowski “Chicago’s Schindler.”
Excited by the claim, Necek began her investigation. She discovered widespread reporting in multiple languages but few verifiable sources. Contacting the Stalowa Wola Museum and local curators, she learned there was no clear evidence that Lazowski and Matulewicz had saved Jews—the “8,000” figure was unsupported. While the doctors’ efforts did create a fake epidemic, it only protected non-Jewish Poles; most Jews in the area had already been deported to Nazi camps by 1942.
Necek also explored Lazowski’s autobiography, Prywatna Wojna (My Private War), which details his life as a patriotic Polish doctor and his opposition to anti-Semitism in pre-war Poland. Lazowski and Matulewicz did carry out an ingenious operation to shield Polish villagers from Nazi persecution, but it could not protect Jews in Rozwadow.
The legend of the 8,000 Jews saved persisted through media amplification, largely for commercial and storytelling reasons. Interviews with journalists, including Art Golab of the Chicago Sun Times, revealed that no evidence supported the extraordinary claims, but the story’s dramatic appeal kept it alive. Lazowski himself never claimed to have saved Jews, yet he accepted the fame his legend brought him in later life.
Interestingly, heroism did run in the family. Lazowski’s parents, Zofia and Kazimierz, were posthumously recognized as Righteous Among the Nations for hiding Jewish families in Warsaw during the war. Unlike Eugene’s legendary reputation, their deeds were well-documented and verifiable.
Necek’s documentary also highlights the challenges of historical memory. In contemporary Poland, educational and political forces continue to shape narratives of heroism. High school students in Stalowa Wola were shown dramatizations of Lazowski’s exploits, reinforcing the legend of saving 8,000 Jews—despite historical evidence to the contrary.
Ultimately, the case of Eugene Lazowski illustrates how myths, media narratives, and personal ambition can intertwine with historical fact. While his story does not match the legend, it remains a compelling example of human ingenuity, moral courage, and the complexities of historical memory.
THE HAUNTING STORY OF THE STARVING POLAR BEAR THAT WOKE UP THE WORLD
A Ghost in the North
On Canada’s Baffin Island, a once-mighty 1,000-pound polar bear drags its weakened body across the barren land. Its white fur hangs in tatters, muscles wasted by long starvation. Captured by National Geographic photographer Paul Nicklen, the footage shows a majestic apex predator reduced to a desperate scavenger—a haunting, heart-wrenching glimpse into the devastating impact of climate change.
“When you see something like that, it breaks something inside you,” Nicklen said, recalling the first moment he spotted the bear. At first, it looked like a stray white blanket caught on the rocks. Then it moved. It was alive—but barely.
The Reality of Climate Change
Polar bears depend on sea ice to hunt seals, their primary food. As the Arctic warms, ice melts earlier in spring and refreezes later in winter, leaving bears trapped on land without access to sustenance. Unlike grizzlies, polar bears cannot survive on berries or plants. Starvation becomes inevitable.
Nicklen’s post on Instagram was simple, yet gut-punching: “This is what starvation looks like… This is what climate change looks like.” Millions watched, shared, and mourned. Suddenly, melting ice caps were no longer abstract numbers—they were the hollow eyes of a dying bear.
A Warning for Humanity
Some argued that this bear might have been sick or old, but Nicklen’s point was larger: this bear represents the fate of its species. Scientists warn that the global population of polar bears—around 26,000 today—could decline by 30% by 2050. The Arctic’s king is disappearing before our eyes, a living alarm for the planet.
This haunting footage forces us to confront a sobering question: if we stand by as the King of the Arctic wastes away, what does that say about us? Every click, every share, every tear counts. It’s a call to action—for our planet, and for the creatures who cannot speak for themselves.
