I cannot remember when I was first in touch with Czeslaw Slania, but we had so much in common that I felt as if I have known him all my life. He was born on 22 October 1921 near Katowice in Poland, the son of a miner, and I come from Ostrava in Czechoslovakia, only about 45 miles away. On top of that, before the war Ostrava was a trilingual town—Czech, German and Polish, so I easily digested Polish as a home language, especially as it is so close to Czech. Ostrava is an industrial and coal mining town. No one was allowed to build higher than four storeys, because they were afraid that the ground might give way. When they built a new city hall, the mayor wanted a tall clock tower. It was built, but first they had to dig down and lay deep concrete foundations which cost millions. Many people in Ostrava freely intermixed words from all the three languages. So, Czeslaw Slania and I had no language problems.

While Hitler occupied most of Czechoslovakia on 15 March 1939, the German troops entered Ostrava a day earlier. I saw the German lorries with about 20 soldiers, sitting on planks in the back, rifles between their legs, driving in. People around me were very quiet, many crying.

Escape to Poland

Many people escaped to Poland, through the woods and over the low hills, but some went underground, through the coal mines, going down the mine on the Czech side and crawling out in Poland. I also escaped to Poland, on a very early morning goods train, in the mail wagon dressed as a postman. The train journey took only 15 minutes from Ostrava to Bohumin, which was in Polish hands. In Bohumin a Polish postman let me out of the locked station in the early morning, at about 4.30 a.m. Once in Poland, I waited to be called up to join the zechoslovakian Legion, I spoke Polish fluently. Czeslaw and I were in the same age group, so we understood each other without having to say too much.

It is a pity that we did not meet then. That is how close we were. Czeslaw Slania had an interesting war history, he was very brave man forging documents for the Polish resistance. My fate took me further east, then south and finally west. Being a philatelist, knew his name, of course, but I did not meet him until much later. Someone must have given him my address, or was it me? I can’t remember. In April 1974 he wrote to me asking me for the address of the well-known Czech engraver Josef Herc¡ík, and his letter was typically ‘Slav’: a mixture of Polish and Czech, I am illustrating part of his letter here. Shortly after this, I finally met him in Stockholm, at Stockholmia ’74, where I was judging for the first time. He had a table at the show which was always surrounded by people asking for his autograph. I walked up to him and when I said who I was he jumped up, took a couple of steps and embraced me.

A long evening

That evening was ours. He invited me to his flat and studio. I went armed with a bottle of Scotch, but he went next door and returned with his own drink, a bottle of vodka. This suited me very well. It was a long evening, indeed, rather a long night. We had so much to say. He told me his life story in great detail, his underground work during the war, in detail how he escaped from a ship to Swedish soil, and how the Swedes welcomed him with open arms. His engravings of Polish stamps were the only visiting card he needed. The King made him Royal Court Engraver, and his work opened all doors for him. He did not boast, he did not tell me how many medals he had been given.

It was a beautiful evening, two old friends meeting at last and telling each other what they had experienced. Naturally, we finished the bottle. From then onwards we were like two brothers, but unfortunately we did not meet very often. Czeslaw showed me his studio and his work. He was so generous, he literally showered me with gifts; the best he could give. I have kept them for over 30 years, and no stranger has seen them, but now that I have lost him, I want you to see what a great artist he was. So, I have opened my secret cupboard. I don’t think I have to say very much. Just look …

Of all the stamp-like portraits Czeslaw gave me, the one he valued most highly was a ‘stamp’ showing his mother. Actually, he told me that, when he was engraving Polish stamps, he had smuggled her name on to some of them. He loved his mother very much, and despite being a refugee he found ways to see her occasionally. He could travel to Czechoslovakia, where the Czech government did not dare to detain a Polish refugee, who had Swedish citizenship and was a Court engraver. His mother used to meet him there.

Reunion

In around 1973 or ’74 his mother was given permission to travel to Vienna to visit her sister, who lived there. Czeslaw also joined the reunion in 1975, driving his 13- year-old Mercedes. There was another important person present, his niece, a talented soprano singing with the Vienna opera. Actually, she had adopted his name and was shown in the programmes as Czeslawa Slania! On the way to Vienna Slania stopped in Prague and there he was chaperoned by my old friend Rudolf Fischer, who was at that time in charge of Czechoslovak stamp production. Fischer, of course, knew every one of the Czech engravers Slania wanted to meet, like Josef Herc¡ík, Ladislav Jirka and Jir¡ís¡vengsbír, who all died years ago. What a pity that I was persona non grata and could not join them!

The next chance I had to see Czeslaw was ten years after Stockholm, when he came to London for the launch of the set of five mailcoach stamps, which he had engraved, on 26 June 1984. I forget where the press conference was, but when I saw Slania I made a beeline for him. Whilst big speeches were given, the two of us retired into the nearest corner and talked, talked and talked. You should have seen the dirty looks the organizers gave us. Such disgraceful behaviour. But could they criticise Czeslaw in public?

Our next meeting came in 1986 at the Stockholmia exhibition. That’s when I introduced him to Chichi, my wife, but she was not too happy with us, what with the gibberish we were talking. She forgave us though. Again, years passed till we met in Monte Carlo at the big show in 2000. Again Chichi ended up on the sideline, because she could not follow our conversation.

Rowland Hill Award

I did not know in advance that Czeslaw Slania had been invited to the Rowland Hill awards ceremony in 2002. When his name appeared on the screen I jumped up, but he was not there, his health did not permit it. Instead, Gavin Macrae flew to Stockholm to present him personally with the Rowland Hill Award.

This is the Czeslaw Slania who has had a firm position in my heart since 1974, well over 30 years. He will stay there for as long as I am alive.

Czeslaw, my good friend, rest in peace. As long as people collect stamps they will never forget the Polish artist, nay the Polish gentleman, who engraved 1000 of them. He delivered his last engraved stamp to the United Nations on 15 February 2005, just one month before he passed away.

Please have a look at my private Slania Museum: First of all there is the stamp engraving of his mother Józefa Slania, produced for her 66tth birthday. Then there are stamp suggestions for Churchill, De Gaulle and Kennedy and even Mao Tse- Tung. The delightful portraits of Marilyn Monroe and Sophia Loren, and two of his 23-stamp set of heavyweight boxing world champions: No 1, John F Sullivan and No 23, Cassius Clay (Now Mohamed Ali). Finally, I would like to show you Pan Michalowski, jun on a rearing horse.