Sept. 18, 1976: Teen polka promoter Bernie Zolnowski

 


An unforgettable character at the beginning of his bizarre career. How bizarre did it get? See the footnote. 

Sept. 18, 1976

Teen-age Polka Whirlwind

Plans All-Star Musical 

THE BUFFALO AREA’S youngest polka promoter answers the door of his parents’ West Seneca home in the same way he does everything – with a precocious buoyance that leaves the senses slightly overwhelmed.

          One recovers enough to shake Bernie Zolnowski’s hand and follow this 15½-year-old whirlwind to the room where his polkamania is headquartered.

          There’s a drum set (he’s a pickup drummer for polka bands), a pair of turntables from which he’s broadcast polkas (with FCC approval) over Citizens Band Radio Channel 14, half his polka albums (the other 250 are out on loan) and posters for polka shows.

          Right now most of his energy is focused toward the Polka Blast he’s putting on Sept. 26 in the Sky Room, 2186 Seneca St. at Cazenovia.

          On stage from noon to whenever it stops will be “World Polka King” Li’l Wally, Li’l Richard’s Polish All Stars from Chicago, Ed Guca’s Polish Canadians from Toronto and one of Bernie’s favorite Buffalo groups, the Dynatones.

* * *

“I’M JUST gonna die that day,” he says, rolling his head back in mock despair.

          “The trouble is, I gotta go to school the next morning. Yes, I go to school, unfortunately.”

          He’s a sophomore at West Seneca East High School. He thinks he might go into a broadcasting career. Radio.

          And then there’s the record company he and a friend are putting together.

          “I can’t stand rock music,” he says flatly. “Just polka music. The other kids in school? They won’t admit it openly, but there’s more than one or two of them in polka bands.”

          Polka music, however, is not without pop music influences these days.

          Among Bernie’s records are polka renditions of Clint Holmes’ “Playground in My Mind” (retitled “Michael Polka”) and the Creedence Clearwater Revival hit, “Down on the Corner.”

          His collection includes one Polish-made album which, ironically, is not polkas at all, but highly-amplified rock ‘n roll.

          Bernie’s love of polka came from his grandfather and his parents, but many of Bernie’s Buffalo polka contacts have come through the local Eddie Blazonczyk fan club.

          Blazonczyk, a 300-pound Chicago magnate who rules the U.S. polka scene, has 27 albums to his credit and sings in both English and Polish.

          He’s a millionaire, owner of a string of record companies which market most of the polka records produced in North America. He and the Polka Hall of Fame have the same address.

* * *

BERNIE FLIPS through a disheveled pile of albums, looking for representative Blazonczyk cuts. “Come on,” he implores when the objects of his search are slow to show up.

          In some ways, Bernie admires Blazonczyk for his tireless promotion and far-flung enterprises as much as for his artistry. Because Bernie is quite a promoter himself.

          “There isn’t a big name in polka music I don’t know or that my feelers haven’t touched,” he explains. “I send out letters and all kinds of things.”

          A couple of his letters led to the proclamations of last Jan. 18 as “Polka Band of the Year Day” by Mayor Makowski and County Executive Regan, complete with recommendations of best singers, bands and songs.

          The plaudits were inspired, the proclamations say, by Polish Power Polka Productions, Polish Power Public Relations and WKBB Radio. Wait a minute, Bernie, isn’t that you?

* * *

HE GRINS and nods his head. Yes, it is. He’s been doing this kind of thing since he was 11.

          First there were the radio broadcasts, which drew news cameras from the three major Buffalo TV stations.

          Then there were various promotions at school. Next, a Muscular Dystrophy benefit show with polka music in the Como Park Mall in Cheektowaga.

          “They had the most business that day they’ve ever had,” he says. “The pizza place ran out of pizza.”

          From that came a Polkathon in Como Park Mall, then a Polka Festival and a Polkastration in the Polish Falcons Club in Depew. The Polka Blast a week from tomorrow will be his first independent production. 

          He relishes the thought of how he’ll be putting Li’l Wally and Li’l Richard, longtime rivals, on the same stage for the first time.

          Indeed, Bernie is a fountain of point-blank opinion and unvarnished polka scene gossip.

          His mother, who’s just arrived home from work in a red Tops supermarket smock, admonishes him not to say things like that. Bernie’s 15 th summer has not been an easy one, she implies.

          “He just comes in,” she says, “and out of nowhere he tells me: ‘I’m going to a dance. I’m going to Pennsylvania. I’m going to Ohio.’ ‘Why Ohio?’ I ask him.

          “Then he comes home in a taxi and wakes me up and says: ‘Ma, the taxi man wants $8.’ At 2 o’clock in the morning? I hollered!”

* * * * *

IN THE PHOTO: Bernie Zolnowski, 15-year-old polka entrepreneur.

* * * * *

FOOTNOTE: Bernie’s hustles got him nationwide attention just before Christmas 1990 when he was a shopping mall Santa and sued the mall operators for dismissing one of his elves. It wasn’t his first legal adventure. Here’s the story from The Buffalo News by my late great colleague Michael Levy:

* * *

Santa is a con man. A bad check artist. A repeat drunken driver. And he once tried to bilk an order of nuns out of $10,000.

On top of it all, he is a man of the cloth, a sub-deacon in an obscure religion.

This Santa – aka Bernard J. Zolnowski Jr., 29, of West Seneca – recently made national headlines for picketing Seneca Mall over "elves rights."

But there is a lot more to Zolnowski's story than those newspaper headlines tell. Court records, for instance, show that he:

Passed bad checks in at least three states.

Served time on felony drunken driving charges – only to demand that his jailors provide him with sacramental wine.

Filed several lawsuits, tying up the Erie County attorney's office for a year, as he sought damages for abridging constitutional rights to practice his religion.

Illegally paid attorney's fees with $10,000 that an order of nuns loaned him to make bail.

"We could not prosecute him criminally," the nuns' attorney said, "because theirs is a monastic order that will not leave the convent. But we did recover most of the money in a civil case."

Most recently, Zolnowski has threatened a $2 million lawsuit against the Seneca Mall after the mall ordered the elves from his Old-Style Music Co. to leave the shopping center, claiming one of them made suggestive comments to a mall employee.

The threat of the $2 million suit – no legal papers have been filed – mirrors the amount Zolnowski sought in U.S. District Court in 1988, when he filed six separate suits against the Erie County Correctional Facility while jailed there.

          "When he was with us, he wanted a 24-hour votive candle, a ciborium (goblet-shaped vessel for holding Eucharistic bread), a pyx (small metal box for carrying the Eucharist), incense, charcoal and sacramental wine in his cell," said John Moerle, the prison's chief of security who was named in the federal suits.

"No way was he going to get wine. He was serving a term for felony drunk driving. He had an admitted problem with alcohol."

James F. Lagona, a Buffalo Municipal Housing Authority lawyer who represents Zolnowski in the mall lawsuit, identified himself as Zolnowski's bishop during the flap over the wine.

Zolnowski first made headlines in 1980, when he was billed as the youngest polka disc jockey in the Buffalo area.

By 1984, he was promoting the "biggest Dyngus Day celebration in the United States" at the former Twin Fair store on Transit Road, West Seneca.

That event left a trail of unpaid bills and a bad taste in many mouths, according to various West Seneca sources.

"How many enemies does Bernie have?" asked a former business associate. "You got a phone book?"

The man claims that Zolnowski still owes him $3,000. Zolnowski also has had problems with insurance fraud and bad checks.

          Records show he served concurrent nine-month sentences for grand larceny and insurance fraud while serving time in the Erie County Correctional Facility from December 1987 until March 1989 for felony drunken driving and driving with a revoked license.

And, somewhere, Zolnowski found religion.

He became a sub-deacon of the Orthodox Catholic Church, Western Rite. Its members consider themselves Catholics, but not Roman Catholics, because they do not recognize the primacy of the pope.

The sect is not listed in the 1990 Yearbook of American and Canadian Religious Faiths.

While in prison, "Bernie would write to his bishop – or his lawyer – who were pretty much the same person," Moerle said. On one occasion, when a letter from his attorney was opened by prison personnel, Zolnowski claimed his rights to privileged communication were violated.

"That letter didn't say James Lagona Esq., or Bishop James Lagona, so how were our people to know?" Moerle said.

In a letter to prison authorities, Lagona identified himself as Zolnowski's bishop and said Zolnowski is a sub-deacon in his church. That position gives Zolnowski the right to preach and dispense consecrated hosts during Mass.

But that apparent conversion occurred sometime after Zolnowski victimized an order of nuns.

In February 1987, Orchard Park police charged Zolnowski with grand larceny, in connection with bad checks, and he was ordered held in lieu of $10,000 bail.

Zolnowski approached the nuns for help – one of his relatives is a member of the order – telling the mother superior that his father would make the bail good when he returned from Florida. The nuns wrote a check made payable to Zolnowski.

When his court-appointed attorney got the criminal charges reduced and drew probation contingent upon paying a fine and restitution, Zolnowski told the lawyer to cash the nuns' check and pay his legal bills.

Zolnowski supplied a letter, authorizing his use of the "loan" for those purposes. The letter turned out to be a forgery.

"Because the nuns will not leave the convent to appear in court, we resorted to the civil, rather than criminal courts. We got most of the money returned a year later," said their attorney.

He asked not to be identified in order to protect the sisters, who do not want publicity.

In April of that year, Zolnowski opened an account in the Laurel Bank of Ebensburg, Pa., using two bad checks drawn on a Buffalo-area bank, court records state.

He then apparently returned to Buffalo, where he wrote two checks to a local music store using the Laurel Bank account.

That netted him the grand larceny conviction, for which he served time here.

Pennsylvania authorities dropped their extradition action for "theft by deception" when restitution was made, Cambria County Court records show.

And Connecticut also dropped charges in similar matters, connected in some way to the music business – Zolnowski's Old Style Music Co., Inc.

In prison, Zolnowski began papering the walls with grievances.

And all of those cases were filed at taxpayer expense, for Zolnowski did not have an income and filed them as a pauper.

"Bernie sued us for everything," said attorney David Kane, now in private practice. "He filed at least 20 inmate grievances, and when those were found without merit, he followed up with lawsuits.

If there wasn't a pencil in the library, he'd sue about that."

Kane was in the county attorney's office from August 1988 to February 1990 and "spent pretty much full time on Bernie's cases," according to County Attorney Patrick NeMoyer.

"I handled between 14 and 19 of them," Kane recalled. "All were dismissed as being without merit by every judge who heard the original motions.

"He is a very bright man who used this to get back at the county," Kane said. "It was a deliberate attempt to harass individuals and the state."

Last March, Full Compass Systems of Madison, Wis., contacted West Seneca police to help them recover $20,000 worth of audio equipment in what West Seneca police believe was another bad-check scam.

"Bernie had identified himself as a reverend belonging to the Servants of the Good Shepherd in order to get a clergy discount," said West Seneca police Lt. Thomas Hanover. "He said his church was Queen of Holy Rosary Orthodox Parish at 861 Seneca Creek Road. That's his home address, not a church. And Bernie's not a reverend," Hanover said.

Zolnowski returned the equipment and the company chose not to prosecute. But Zolnowski stands by his claim of his religious affiliation.

"I am a sub-deacon in the Orthodox Catholic (Western Rite) Church," he said.

And his bishop backed him up, correctional facility personnel said.

"You want to hear the best?" asked Frederick Netzell, director of the correctional facility.

"After all those grievances and all those lawsuits, when he got out, Bernie came back wearing a priest's collar. We had to let him back for a clerical visit to another inmate."

* * * 

It didn’t end there. An article in The News in 1995 noted that Bernie had racked up his ninth drunken driving charge since 1986. What’s more, his time locked up for DWI gave him a new focus.

A year later he was a legal assistant with the New York Civil Liberties Union western regional office. In 1997, he led paralegals in a lawsuit against Erie County to allow them to meet with clients in jail. The suit actually improved conditions in the Erie County Holding Center.

Even his death on Nov. 13, 1997, came under dispute. First reports said he suffered a heart attack. But soon West Seneca Police determined that he died from a head injury. And then a longtime friend named Michael Jaeckle, a crack addict, was arrested.

It came out during his trial that Jaeckle pushed Bernie down a flight of stairs when he refused to give him money for drugs after the two of them had spent a night together drinking heavily. Jaeckle was sentenced to five years for manslaughter.

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