At Krakow, a Trumpeter’s Song Stops Short as Tribute to 13th-Century Watchman

At the stroke of noon, footsteps echo firmly on a wooden floor, a creaky window sash opens and bright sunlight gleams off the polished brass trumpet.

Below the tower of the 14th-Century St. Mary’s Church, life in the busy market square pauses a moment as the trumpeter of Krakow plays his solemn song, hauntingly cut short in the middle of a note on the last refrain.

The trumpet player is perpetuating a 700-year-old tradition, rising from the legend of a 13th-Century watchman who raised an alarm when the city was under attack by Tartar invaders. According to the tradition, a Tartar horseman’s arrow pierced the watchman’s throat before he could finish his call.

Ever since, the melody--called the hejnal --has been cut short to honor the watchman who died at his post.

Krakow’s Big Ben

The trumpet call--repeated each hour to all four directions--is instantly recognizable across this nation of 37 million people because, like Big Ben’s chimes in London, it is carried live at noon by the national radio.

Besides announcing that all is well in this ancient former Polish capital, it speaks of continuity in a country that since its earliest history has suffered waves of invasions but somehow survived.

Ludwik Skowronek, 53, whose last name means “skylark” in Polish, is the modern heir of the medieval trumpeter.

For the last 19 years he has gone to work by ducking through a tiny doorway to the side of the church and trudging up the narrow, winding steps--the lower levels on worn stone, the upper ones of rough-hewn wood that, at places, are more like a ladder than a stairway.

Spectacular View

Climbing the equivalent of 16 stories up the 266-foot tower, the trumpeter reaches his aerie and its spectacular view of old Krakow--one of the few Polish cities to escape destruction in World War II--and the foothills of the country’s southern mountains.

“At the beginning it seemed to me that the tower was not that high,” Skowronek said with a wry smile. “But as the years pass, I find it gets higher and higher.”

He played the hejnal long enough to feel the sting of snow and hail in his face in winter, to count all the smokestacks in the nearby industrial suburb of Nowa Huta (there are 51) and to think about the ancient watchman.

“Sometimes I have the notion that someone might get the stupid idea of shooting again at the trumpeter. . . . Different things happen,” he said.

Seven Trumpeters

Not that such an event would stop the song. There are seven regular trumpeters in the small squadron maintained by the city’s Fire Department, plus one reserve player. Someone would take Skowronek’s place, he is sure.

Since 1810 the hejnal has been played continuously. Any omission--if, for instance, a trumpet player overslept--would “be heard louder than the trumpeting,” Skowronek, the senior trumpeter, said.

St. Mary’s Tower has been Krakow’s main watch tower since medieval times and has always been under the jurisdiction of the city elders and not the church.

Originally the buglers’ task was to play the morning and evening signal ordering guards to open and close the city gates. They also would raise an alarm when they spotted fire or an enemy approaching.

Tradition Interrupted

The custom to play the signal hourly is believed to have begun during the 1500s.

The tradition was interrupted at the end of the 18th Century when, as a result of war and poverty, the city found it impossible to pay the trumpet players. In 1810, a patriotic couple donated money so that the custom could resume.

Even under Nazi occupation, the trumpeters were allowed to play twice a day.

A trumpeter works a 24-hour shift followed by two days off. He sometimes catches a nap between his hourly bugle calls.