17 Asked for Asylum in U.S. : Polish Seamen Seek New Life in Boston

Zbigniew Nowakowski jumped ship in the dead of winter with little more than the clothes on his back and hope. Three months later, he and fellow defectors from Polish vessels are working to build their personal American dream.

Nowakowski and 16 other Polish seamen walked off four ships docked in or near Boston in late January, saying they wanted to flee oppressive political and economic conditions at home.

Most left wives and children. None spoke English. They have had their share of struggle. But they say they have no regrets.

“I knew it would be difficult at first, and I expected hardships,” said Nowakowski, 36. “I have no intention of ever leaving.”

Defector Artur Misiaczuk shook his head vehemently when asked if he ever considered returning to Poland during the darker moments of his adventure.

“Return? No, this is my home now,” he said.

The two men, both of whom say they were members of the outlawed Solidarity free trade union, spoke through an interpreter.

The Immigration and Naturalization Service is processing asylum requests from the 17. Although declining specific comments about the applications, INS District Director Charles Cob said requests from Soviet Bloc countries “have a higher percentage of approval than those from other countries do.”

Sitting in a booth of the Polish-American Citizens Club in Dorchester, a tough, working-class section of Boston, Nowakowski and Misiaczuk chain-smoked American cigarettes, a luxury in their homeland.

“Our initial dream has come true, and that is to have the freedom of mobility,” said Misiaczuk, 25, who left his wife and 11-month-old daughter in the seaport of Szeczin.

“We want to fulfill our personal American dream, which is the American dream of all immigrants who come here, to eventually bring our families here and to continue living and working and getting acclimated to American society,” he said.

Nowakowski, a fellow Szecziner, who left behind his wife, a 2-year-old son and a daughter, 12, looked even further ahead.

“I intend to work very hard in the next 20 years,” he said. “To me, the most important thing is that I am free now and I will be free in 20 years.

“Our overall goal is to be with our families, and yes, to have our own homes eventually, a nice place to live and for our families to live with us.”

The two now share a two-bedroom apartment in South Boston with two fellow Polish defectors. Nowakowski works nights in a food-processing plant, while Misiaczuk is a general laborer for a construction contractor.

Neither the cramped quarters nor the hard work draw complaints. Nowakowski, a trained refrigeration technician who attends English classes by day, spoke with relish about working his way up.

“Eventually, through school and my own personal ambition, I’d like to have my own business,” he said.

Several of the Poles spent their first night in America in the office of Mayor Raymond S. Flynn, and Nowakowski and Misiaczuk spoke enthusiastically of the financial and moral support given them since, both by the city and Boston’s sizable Polish community.

But all the help cannot bridge the occasional loneliness. Misiaczuk’s voice trembled when he described his first telephone call with his wife.

“We cried as soon as we heard each other’s voice, because we knew in our hearts that we would not be seeing each other in the near future, and she told me that they laid her off from work because of my defection,” he said. “I miss them tremendously.

“But they are heartened by my stay here and . . . about the fact that things are working out better here than initially expected.”

He brightened when asked about his favorite things in America.

“Pizza,” he said with a laugh. “And Madonna.”