Hungarian Heritage Review, 1988 (17. évfolyam, 1-12. szám)
1988-01-01 / 1. szám
Mary Elizabeth, a chef, had come down from the mountains of Vermont for the occasion. And — on the anniversary of the victory at Yorktown — Polereczky’s grave was honored by his own kind of people: hereditary hussars. A study of Seguin Island reveals an aspect of the Major’s life which was not previously considered by either Hungarian or Slovak historians. Circumstantial evidence strongly hints that he experienced a “last hurrah’’ even after his moment of glory at Yorktown. During the War of 1812, British troops occupied parts of the coast of Maine. A British warship called the Bulwark was anchored below the town of Bath, and an invasion was feared. A local patriot at Cox’s Landing galloped off to spread the alarm, and thus became the “Paul Revere of Maine’’ during the war. But this rider was undoubtably signalled from the lighthouse, since it is known that the Bulwark hurtled cannon fire at Seguin Island. It is also a matter of record that Polereczky was lighthouse keeper of Seguin Island during those years. The trip was a productive one, and the people of New England were hospitable to this Pittsburgh-born Southerner. There remains for the full story of J.L. Polereczky — and that of his older brother, his father, and his grandfather — to be presented to Hungarians in America. ^Hungarian-Americana A New England Town Clerk: John Polereczky of Dresden, Maine- By -VLADIMIR BAUMGARTEN The American municipal science of rezoning is virtually as old as the United States. One little-known occasion — replete with unexpected side results — took place in 1789, several months before the French Revolution convulsed Europe. A colonial town on the coast of Maine named Pownaborough had just been dissolved. Its territory was divided into several tracts, and one of them was chartered as a new town called Dresden. The name was selected by a local German named Dr. Ernst Friedrich Theobold in honor of his old hometown. The name Dresden was also greatly resented by the newly-appointed town clerk, whose given name was John Polereczky. Polereczky, a veteran of French service in the American Revolution, regarded Theobold and other German residents as “hireling Hessians”. Polereczky nevertheless accepted the appointment for a very good reason: he needed the money. The new town clerk was born Janos László Polereczky on September 8, 1748, in the French province of Alsace-Lorraine. His grandfather had been a veteran of an earlier war of independence in Hungary. His father had risen to the rank of brigadier general in the French cavalry. Janos László first came to America as part of the Foreign Legion of the Duc de Lauzun — a motley collection of Hungarian hussars, Polish lancers, and the usual anti-British Irishmen. Major J.L. Polereczky engaged in reconnaissance around British-held New York City, and earned the praise of General Washington for his personal valor. Later, when the Franco-American forces shifted to Virginia, the hussars came up in a fast gallop from the rear. They arrived in time to defeat the British dragoons of “Bloody” Tarleton at Gloucester Point on October 3, 1781. With Tarleton securely bottled up inside Gloucester, Lauzun dispatched Polereczky across the river York to aid Washington in preparing the grand finale at Yorktown. When Cornwallis capitulated on October 19, Polereczky commanded the honor guard of French cavalry. Two American friends, the generals Benjamin Lincoln and Henry Dearborn, persuaded Polereczky to settle in New England. He was naturalized in 1788, shortly before Lincoln procured for him the appointment as town clerk. John Polereczky experienced some modest financial success in the following year. His older brother in France, Ferenc András, was an absentee landowner of tracts along nearby Kennebec River, and was ready to sell them cheaply. Ferenc likewise needed the money: he was reputed to be in love with Queen Marie Antoinette, and he expected trouble in France. Indeed, within the next two years Ferenc fled to Hungary to escape the guillotine. New Englanders, meanwhile, came to know John as a finelooking man, “very Frenchy” and expansive in manner. But the salary of town clerk (then as now) was not equal to the demands of the father of nine children, and Polereczky was forced to look for additional employment. Dearborn procured his appointment as keeper of the lighthouse erected on Seguin Island in 1796. Polereczky’s shift was by no means motivated solely by economics. From this location he was able to meet Frenchmen fleeing the Reign of Terror and introduce them to America. These activities strained his finances even further, so that he was forced to grow cabbages on Seguin Island to supplement his income. Polereczky expressed bitterness that Congress had given Lafayette a generous land grant in northern Florida, while he and other French veterans went around in patched boots. He appealed twice to Congress for a pension, and was twice rejected. An additional appeal — touching in its simplicity — was addressed to the notables of neighboring Wiscasset on July 2, 1825. The text of this letter indicates that neither the author’s years as town clerk nor his ardent American patriotism had done much to improve his English. But it spurred the local citizens to exert themselves on his behalf. In 1830, by special act of Congress, a pension was awarded to Polereczky. In the same year a new French government remembered him with gratitude — and a cash award. John Polereczky learned of neither of these awards: he died while dozing in his chair on June 8. But the obscure town clerk had left his mark on American history. What his grandfather had envisioned in the world’s first war of independence, he saw achieved in the second one. And, in a very real sense, he became the father of benefits enjoyed by U.S. veterans today. JANUARY 1988 HUNGARIAN HERITAGE REVIEW 11
