Longtime residents of quiet neighborhood fear for their lives

TOLEDO (AP) — The walls in Ted Nitkiewicz’s living room hold a lifetime of memories.

Framed bronze medals from the Polish Army tell of his two years at prison-camps in Siberia. A black-and-white photo reveals the woman he met at one camp who became his wife. His life in America is on display in pictures of their three children. Another photo shows Nitkiewicz grasping Pope John Paul II’s hand at the Vatican a decade ago.

Little has changed inside his home of 57 years in an area of Toledo known as Polish Village.

Outside, it’s a different story: Over the last four months, two women in their 80s have been killed at home during robberies. Another was punched by an intruder. The few remaining older Polish residents fear their age makes them an easy target in this changing neighborhood that was once the city’s cultural and political center.

The mayor has ordered police to increase patrols and help residents expand a neighborhood-watch program. The police chief said officers are worried that criminals are becoming bolder.

But longtime residents refuse to move away.

Ray Trznadel thought he had finally persuaded his 93-year-old mother to leave a few years ago. He even had a house picked out. “She wouldn’t go,” he said. “She’s just stubborn.”

Trznadel, pointing out two bullet holes in the siding of her garage, said he worries so much that he calls her every day and visits at odd hours. She’s almost always inside watching television with her cat. She used to go out to sweep the sidewalks or tend to flowers.

“She’s afraid to hang clothes on the line,” he said. “I just wish her last years would be more comfortable.”

The neighborhood once was a welcoming enclave for Polish immigrants fleeing war and poverty. For many, this neighborhood of cramped houses, tiny lots and narrow streets is the only home they’ve known. Leaving that behind would mean giving up the memories that keep them going.

“It was such a nice neighborhood you didn’t think to close the windows or lock the doors,” said Nitkiewicz, 90, who now lives alone. “It’s now a ghetto. I am like in prison. It’s like Siberia again.”

Most of the older folks have either died or moved out, leaving behind an area that is poorer, more transient and more diverse. A mix of whites, blacks and Hispanics live in homes sprinkled among empty lots overgrown with weeds and homes stripped of aluminum siding by metal thieves.

It’s no different from what has happened in many ethnic neighborhoods throughout the Midwest that have lost their identities as residents flee to the suburbs and warmer climates.

The Polish Village neighborhood was scarred four years ago when out-of-towners held a white-supremacist march. Protesters who included rival gang members turned against police and looted and burned a corner bar, smashed the windows of a gas station and tossed rocks and bricks at authorities.

Ted Grachek, who sells candy, beer and lottery tickets at a corner store that his grandfather opened during Prohibition, has watched the community of immigrant homeowners change to a place filled with transient renters.

Still, he thinks it has a chance to survive, in part because so many people trace their roots to the area. About 10 percent of the city’s 300,000 residents are Polish.

The problem, he said, is attracting investors and homeowners when the image is so bad. Across the street, a new of row of shops has brought in a beauty shop and a kickboxing studio to the area just a mile north of downtown.

Pat Murdock tried many times to get her friend Cecelia Sobecki to move. But Sobecki told friends that her late husband bought that house for her and she intended to stay there.

Sobecki, 83, died in February, two days after police say a woman broke into her home and pushed her down twice after she refused to hand over money. Police said the intruder stole $700 and a bottle of painkillers.

The 88-year-old mother of a police officer was killed May 5, and her husband was beaten and left unconscious for nearly four days before calling 911. Less than two weeks later on the same street, an intruder punched a woman in her 80s in the face during a break-in.

“It just seems like seniors have a big target on their back,” said Jim Gramza, director of the Zablocki Senior Center, a place where residents gather for hot lunches and bingo. “We’ve had some seniors who’ve been beaten up. They’ve never been the same since.”

After the latest slaying, Gramza has been telling older residents to get an alarm system or a dog and make sure someone checks on them. The center is giving out cell phones that call only 911.

Marge Szczepaniak, 87, has lived on the same block for 70 years.

“My kids want me to move in the worst way, but everything is here for me. My church, the beauty shop, even the funeral home,” she said, adding that she’s never had trouble with her neighbors.

She still sits on her porch in the evening and hands out cookies and candy to children.

“How can you move away on account of people? That isn’t a reason,” she said. “Anything can happen in any neighborhood.”