Driving into Buffalo’s old Polonia neighborhood on Dyngus Day, it is hard to understand what all the fuss is about. Houses stand abandoned and boarded up. What was once a thriving Polish community now looks like a ghost town. In the middle of it all stands the skeleton of the Central Terminal. Although architecturally breathtaking, the train station stands beaten; some windows are broken, others, completely boarded up.
From an outside perspective, there is no apparent reason to celebrate in this vacant structure.
Wrong.
“This is no banquet hall, this is the real deal!” Marty Biniasz yelled out inside the terminal while holding up both arms with a grin. One hand was holding a “Dyngus Day Buffalo ‘07” mug that he made himself, or so he claims. He is one of the organizers of the first annual Dyngus Day Parade, and the founder of Dyngusdaybuffalo.com. He was informally introduced to me as “Mr. Dyngus Day Himself.”
For Biniasz and other members of the old East Side Buffalo Polish community, it makes sense to parade through old Polonia. It’s a reminder of their cultural past and the best place to party during a cultural celebration. Although old Polonia’s people have somewhat separated when it comes to location, their hearts are still together. Thousands of people flood to the East Side of Buffalo on Easter Monday to revel at our country’s largest Dyngus Day celebration.
In short, Dyngus Day is a Polish-American holiday with customs dating back to Eastern European ancestral traditions. It is celebrated in major industrial cities that once had strong Polish settlers, like Chicago and Pittsburgh. It resembles Fat Tuesday, but the Polish celebrate backwards. Instead of enjoying big meals and drinking heavily before the forty days of Lent, on Dyngus Day partying is done after the sanctified period is over.
The celebration is infamous for pussy willows and squirt guns. Traditionally, boys would douse their crushes with water and hit them in the legs with pussy willow branches. Getting wet was fairly important, as girls left out of this ritual were considered beznadziejna (hopeless). Girls would then have their revenge the next day, drenching their suitors with ice-cold water in retaliation. The practice has evolved to include squirt guns instead of buckets, and the entire affair is blended into one Monday.
The parade started where most of the Polish community starts their grocery shopping for Easter: the Broadway Market. My family has been going there for generations, purchasing everything from butter lambs to beets and horseradish. The march was full of traditional Polish elements. A butter lamb float, and a Wardinski sausage mascot traveled past many Polonia landmarks such as St. Stanislaus Church and the Historic Dom Polski’s. The parade culminated at Buffalo’s Central Terminal (one of 17 venues celebrating the holiday) for one of the biggest parties of the night.
Crowds nearing the thousands braved the cold and chipped in the $8 cover charge to celebrate in the historic train station. The terminal seemed like it was back in its heyday, once again holding the thriving masses. In many ways, it reminded me of the Titanic, a glorious structure now in ruins. For a night, the building was brought back to life. The sounds of laughter, Polka, and feet skipping on the cement floor filled the cold atmosphere with warm energy. Everyone had rosy cheeks from the cold, beers in their hands, pierogies in their stomachs, and smiles on their faces.
On most days, the scenery of the terminal is not so inviting. Nearly all the copper and brass that was worth any money has been smuggled out if its innards. Being inside the bare, but beautiful structure was bittersweet. Anger came to mind first, wondering why the building is not put to more consistent use. But fascination and excitement soon followed; the atmosphere transported you back to a greater era.
The lettering on the ticket booths had begun to chip and fall off, but I noticed the marble frame stood nearly immaculate. Inside the booths, birch beer, spiked cider, and, of course, regular beer were being served. The beer that night was a one-of-a-kind brew, not to be consumed on any other day besides Dyngus Day. Buffalo’s Flying Bison brewed it especially for the event, and everyone seemed to be enjoying it thoroughly.
What was once the waiting room in the old terminal was turned into the “restaurant.” Ulrich’s, Bistro Europa, and The K Sisters served the food. Tables were lined up against the back wall and hot Polish food was served. Every kind of pierogi imaginable was hot and ready to be eaten—cheese and potato was my favorite. There was also Wardinski’s Polish sausage on a roll being served along with Czarnina, duck’s blood soup.
The music played at the various Dyngus Day events was traditionally the same around the board: Polka or die. Those Idiots and A Village Sound performed the music at the Central Terminal. They even changed things up a little bit by covering punk rock songs from bands such as The Ramones. Now, Polka is not music that most listen to on a regular basis, however it is the perfect celebration music, upbeat and easy to skip to while holding the hands of another. I still had the infectious tunes running through my head days later.
The celebration was thriving in the terminal. From five until ten the crowd only seemed to grow. After a while, everyone forgot how cold it was inside, but it was my time to venture into different parties.
“Did you ever go down to Mickiewicz’s before?” Mr. Dyngus Day asked me.
“No.”
“Head down there, it gets pretty crazy.”
Surprisingly, Mickiewicz’s is a library, and from what I heard it is one of the few parties where people actually take part in the water throwing tradition of Dyngus Day. So that is where I was headed. When I arrived a little after ten, however, the line to get in was wrapped along the perimeter of the buildings. Every venue was packed, especially PVT. Leonard Post Jr. VFW #6251 and Chopin’s Singing Society at Hearthstone. Hearthstone, a 20,000 square foot banquet hall, was packed to capacity; by 11 p.m. no one was let in. I won’t tell you how I weaseled my way past the bouncers, but I can say if you put your arms up to dance, you had trouble getting them back down.
With zany antics, intoxicatingly fun music, fantastic food, and plenty of beer all standing upon a culturally rich foundation, I sometimes wonder why Dyngus Day hasn’t acquired the sizable following that Fat Tuesday enjoys. But that hardly matters to those who make it out to celebrate the Monday after Easter, and although you might not have heard of them, Dyngus Day enthusiasts make their presence known in Buffalo.
Na Zdrowie! (Cheers)
