Marek Teler
Helena Grossówna, one of the most popular Polish actresses of the pre-war era, was born in Toruń. Her film career lasted only four years, yet it was extremely fruitful. She appeared on screen alongside the biggest stars of the 1930s, such as Eugeniusz Bodo. Before becoming a film star, she worked as a dancer and choreographer on the stages of Toruń, Bydgoszcz, and Poznań. During the war she took an active part in the resistance movement, for which she faced persecution after the war. Marek Teler—writer, journalist, and popularizer of history—has just published a biography titled “Helena Grossówna. To Be an Optimist”, describing the life of the Toruń-born artist.
A great pre-war film star who went underground during World War II and was later persecuted because of her opposition to the new authorities. Don’t you feel that Helena Grossówna’s life could be a perfect film script?
I think so. Helena Grossówna was not only a dancer and actress, but also a courier in the “Wachlarz” sabotage organization and later the commander of a women’s unit in the “Sokół” Battalion during the Warsaw Uprising. She also proved herself to be a very talented choreographer, especially during her performances at the Metropolis cinema-theatre in Poznań, where she created new dances every week—Japanese one week, Jewish the next, acrobatic another time. If a film about her life were made, all these threads, including her private life, could be shown through dance—moving through life with a dancer’s step. Of course, such a production could not omit her screen partners, Eugeniusz Bodo and Adolf Dymsza, with whom she remained friends for many years after the war.
A lesser-known aspect of Helena’s life is her dramatic love story. At the beginning of the German occupation she lost the love of her life, Tadeusz Jasłowski of the Dana Choir. For the next four years she had to cope alone with the harsh realities of war—and she managed. In post-war communist Poland, she humbly endured being pushed to the margins due to her activity in the Home Army. As she said in a 1981 interview with Bożena Walter, whenever she felt hurt, it was “on the inside”—she never showed it outwardly. We should also remember that after the Warsaw Uprising she passed through two POW camps in Gross-Lübars and Oberlangen. Every morning, when she got up, she told herself: “I am happy, life is beautiful!”
That is precisely why I chose the title “To Be an Optimist.” It refers to the song Ja tańczę (“I Dance”) from the film Happy Thirteen, in which Grossówna sang: “In life one must always be an optimist.” The title was actually conceived by Prof. Krzysztof Trojanowski, a great admirer and expert on the actress’s life, and I believe it is excellent. The photographs included in the book, showing a smiling Helena, demonstrate that she truly went through life with a smile, without bitterness or resentment. She always accepted fate, even when in the 1950s and 1960s she played only episodic or secondary roles at the Syrena Theatre.
In the book you mention the POW camps, where she sang for fellow prisoners—passing under the fence and singing songs of encouragement together with a friend.
Yes, she sang in a duet with actress Żenia Magierówna. What’s more, together with other interned actresses they created their own camp theatre called Blue Underpants and staged a New Year’s Eve revue. They also planned more ambitious repertoire, such as The Fool Jacob by Tadeusz Rittner, but just before the premiere the camp was liberated by a combat patrol of the 2nd Armoured Regiment of General Maczek’s 1st Armoured Division. Their performances brought a bit of joy into the grim camp life, where delousing, forced labor, and humiliation by the Germans were everyday realities, and cold water in the showers was a luxury. Despite these dramatic experiences, the women did not lose hope and supported one another. It shows that the artistic spirit cannot be crushed—even in such conditions there was room for artistic expression. Let me add that even during the Warsaw Uprising Grossówna danced on a table and sang, despite her many duties as commander of a women’s unit.
I think that pre-war artists were always artists at heart, yet in everyday life they remained modest, ordinary people. They had class, charm, and elegance—Helena Grossówna is the best example of this.
Helena Grossówna was actively involved in the underground, despite performing in theaters licensed by the occupiers, which could have made her appear to be a collaborator. That was extremely risky.
Yes, she did perform in “open” theaters licensed by the German occupiers, but with the knowledge and consent of the Polish Underground State—the Union of Armed Struggle and later the Home Army. For almost the entire occupation period she was involved in the “Wachlarz” organization under the pseudonym Bystra. She immediately told her commander, Jan Przybylski (codename Byłko), that she would undertake any task, as long as not under her own name. This was both a safety measure and a sign of her modesty. While performing on the occupation stage, she often scanned the audience to make sure no collaborator or Gestapo informant was present. She also took part in transporting weapons and materials on the Warsaw–Baranowicze and Warsaw–Brest routes.
She also participated—mainly in preparations rather than the action itself—in the liberation of “Wachlarz” soldiers imprisoned by the Germans in Pińsk, for which she was awarded the Cross of Valor. A document confirming this decoration has survived in her family’s archives. Throughout the occupation she was never arrested or interrogated—she operated with remarkable discretion. After the war she never spoke openly about her wartime activity, mentioning it only briefly and vaguely in a few interviews. She even told her son that during the uprising she merely “ran around with a bag,” despite having been a unit commander.
During the occupation she was also the subject of rumors. In March 1943, Gestapo agent Aleksandra Serwińska—who strongly resembled Grossówna—was shot in Warsaw. Rumors spread that it was Grossówna who had been killed for collaboration. She was also falsely accused of participating in the anti-Polish film Heimkehr, which is complete nonsense. Throughout the war she played a double role—appearing loyal to the occupiers on stage while in reality being a heroine of the Polish underground.
After the war, her membership in the Home Army made life difficult.
Yes. Not only had she belonged to the Home Army, but she also married Tadeusz Cieśliński, a soldier under General Maczek during World War II. Because of that “Maczek-written biography,” he struggled to find work for many years in post-war Poland. In 1946, when they had to decide whether to return from Germany or stay abroad, Cieśliński wanted to emigrate with her to Canada. She chose to return to Poland because her ailing mother lived in Toruń. She could not imagine life away from her country and family. At first the press enthusiastically described her return, but a few years later she painfully felt how Poland had changed. Due to her underground activity, she was barred from major film and theater roles. She was even offered a director’s post—provided she joined the Party, and she could choose the theater—but her husband immediately told her to forget about it.
Helena Grossówna never joined the Party. She only belonged to peripheral organizations such as the Women’s League Circle or the Polish-Soviet Friendship Society. Had she not acted so discreetly during the occupation, she might have suffered the fate of actor Andrzej Szalawski, who—despite working for the underground while performing in licensed theaters—was imprisoned for collaboration after the war and continued to face damaging accusations even after his release.
Grossówna was probably helped by her immense pre-war popularity and likeability. She was perceived as warm and relatable, so people found it hard to believe accusations of collaboration. While researching the book, I attempted to uncover scandals or affairs—and essentially found none. Her life was fascinating, but decent. Even when one tries hard to find controversy, only a few marginal episodes could be considered morally ambiguous.
In a way, we started our conversation from the end, because we should begin by remembering that Helena Grossówna was a very talented and popular actress who quickly became a true star of Polish cinema.
It’s worth remembering that Grossówna began her film career relatively late. Pre-war stars usually debuted around the age of twenty—Ina Benita, Elżbieta Barszczewska, or Karolina Lubieńska, for instance. Grossówna began appearing in films at the age of thirty-one, apart from a small cameo in The Mystery of the Doctor (1930), which nonetheless secured her place in film history. She spoke the first words ever recorded on film in Polish cinema. Her first major role came only in 1935 in Love Only Me, meaning her pre-war acting career lasted barely four years. Yet she appeared alongside top-tier stars like Dymsza and Bodo.
Before that, she had a ten-year dance career in Toruń, Poznań, Bydgoszcz, and Warsaw. This artistic path was very consistent—from chorus dancer, to featured dancer, and later choreographer. She also performed as a singer in the Poznań literary cabaret Różowa Kukułka. In Warsaw, in addition to film work, she appeared in revues at Małe Qui Pro Quo and Cyrulik Warszawski.
I noticed the role played by her relationship with Pola Negri, who offered tremendous support.
This is the somewhat controversial part of Grossówna’s story. For ten years she was married to Jan Gierszal, whom she told her family was homosexual. Pola Negri created an artistic salon at her estate in Seraincourt near Paris, where she welcomed trusted Polish artists and felt most comfortable among homosexual men. Gierszal managed Negri’s apartment in Bydgoszcz and was friends with her secretary Leopold Brodziński, which led Negri to invite him—along with his beautiful fiancée—to Seraincourt.
The affection Negri felt for Gierszal soon extended to his young wife, as the couple married in Seraincourt. Negri, leveraging her Hollywood fame, became a patron of the arts. Recognizing Grossówna’s potential, she helped her study with Bronislava Nijinska and at Mathilde Kschessinska’s Paris studio. These two powerful dance personalities shaped Grossówna’s greatest period of artistic growth.
In the book I also describe the history of the Ballet Polonais, a group that toured France and Italy but has never been thoroughly documented. After the Wall Street crash, Negri lost much of her fortune, ceased supporting the group, and it quickly disbanded. She sold Seraincourt, and the Gierszals returned to Poland—where Grossówna’s later career unfolded.
Helena Grossówna was an unquestionable star of pre-war Polish cinema. How were film stars perceived then?
In some ways, similarly to today—there were fans. But there were no selfies. Instead, fans collected chocolate wrappers with actors’ photos and exchanged them, wrote letters, and even had access to stars’ home addresses. Grossówna received an enormous amount of fan mail.
Back then, there was a greater sense of reverence for stars. Today, social media has stripped celebrities of mystery. In the 1930s, young women went to the cinema “for Grossówna” and styled themselves after her. She even advertised products—some quite controversial by today’s standards, such as radium-based cosmetics. There were also no paparazzi; media image was carefully curated.
Is Helena Grossówna a forgotten artist?
In the region, a great deal has been done to preserve her memory. My book was published thanks to the support of the regional government. Earlier, a comic book titled “Helena Grossówna. Never Lose Hope” was released. Her house was saved, a commemorative plaque placed at her school, and a roundabout named after her. I hope my book is just another step in restoring her memory—and that Toruń will never forget Helena Grossówna.
Paweł Jankowski
December 2025