October 27, 1926, Kolomyia
My Dearest,
Confidentially!
In the first few days, I made my official visits. I met with the starosta, the mayor, and the school principals—Mostovych, Boron, and Verber—as well as the principal of the women’s school in our neighborhood. However, I did not visit the principals of the Ukrainian Pedagogical Society.
On Sunday, I was summoned to the office of Yosyp Tchaikivskyi. And today—just think—Hamchykevych, the director of the UPS women’s gymnasium, came to my office. He is no longer a principal as of November 1 (this position is still unoccupied!). But the most interesting part is why he is no longer principal. Listen, and you will see how trivial everything that was done to me seems in comparison:
Before the holidays, a student from the teachers’ seminary came to him and revealed that in the fall of 1924, the seminary’s director had called her into his office and asked her to strip completely so he could spank her on her bare body. She refused. In the spring of 1925, she confronted Tchaikivskyi—not that Tchaikivskyi that was in Rohatyn, that one, who would teach history—that she must pass the matura, or else she would expose all the filth going on at the seminary.
Hamchykevych later learned from his teacher Kovbuz and catechist Hrynivskyi that it had taken place indeed. Tchaikivskyi had done this to more than one girl! (And he had been the director of the seminary for 22 years!)
Before the holidays, Hamchykevych reported the matter to the UPS Circle. Tchaikivskyi did not take him to court. Instead, Hamchykevych submitted a request for resignation. They dismissed his witnesses as unreliable and claimed that Tchaikivskyi had not taken legal action against them solely out of love for the institution. In the end, they resigned Hamchykevych!
That’s how the old man was thrown out of the UPS schools, branded as a slanderer!
He reported everything to the Main Directorate and came to consult me on what to do next. I told him: “As far as they are concerned, you are a slanderer. But I’ll tell you what I would do. I would write to the Main Directorate, stating that if Yosyp Tchaikivskyi does not either appeal to the court or resign as director of the women’s seminary within 14 days, I will report everything to the state authorities (curatorship). I would do this as a matter of civic duty!” Hamchykevych was delighted. He said, “That’s exactly why I came to you for advice.” And I told him, “Mr. Director, what was done to me is nothing compared to what was done to you. Thank you for your concern for me! But your case pains me as much as if it were my own—as a Ukrainian and as a teacher.”
He said he would follow my advice!
What a shameless scoundrel! A coward! A swine! Imagine if it were my daughter—I would have shot that villain on the spot!
I’ve inquired about the house. I should receive an answer by Friday regarding whether they will rent me a room and kitchen for $20.
I kiss you from the bottom of my heart.
Yours, Tucho
Kolomyia, 27/10
I will arrive Friday evening.
Antin Krushelnytskyi, a Ukrainian writer, literary critic, and educator, was serving as the director of the Rabbi H. Shapira Jewish Gymnasium at the time of this writing. In a letter to his wife Maria (née Sloboda, formerly an actress in the Ruska Besida theater) in Kolomyia, he describes a case of sexual harassment involving students of the Kolomyia Women’s Teachers’ Seminary—an institution that trained primary school teachers—by its director, Yosyp Tchaikivskyi. The case became public after Roman Hamchykevych, director of the women’s gymnasium of the Ukrainian Pedagogical Society, learned about the harassment from one of the seminary students. Seeking advice, Hamchykevych consulted the author of the letter and his colleague, Antin Krushelnytskyi, on how to handle the situation. This case likely set a precedent, as later that same year, in 1926, Yosyp Tchaikivskyi was removed from his position.