Colwell: What is Dyngus Day? Well, here's what it's not
Dyngus Day is difficult to explain to folks who ask what this strange-sounding event is in South Bend.
Let’s try by explaining what it’s not.
Dyngus Day, while sometimes described as a Polish version of St. Patrick’s Day, is not named after a St. Dyngus. Nor does it have anything to do with legends about driving snakes out of the old country, mysterious leprechauns or shamrocks.
Dyngus Day is not something recently concocted by local bars, clubs and restaurants to sell kielbasa and liquid refreshment. It goes back to when Christianity was embraced in Poland in 966 with mass baptisms. Use of a lot of water then was featured in an annual event that became Dyngus.
No, not for more mass baptisms. It became a custom in the old country for boys to douse young maidens with water and switch their legs with branches of pussy willows. Kind of a way of flirting in centuries past.
Fear not, young maidens, Dyngus Day in South Bend involves no dousing or hitting with branches. That practice was carried over to this country at one time in some cities with many residents of Polish descent. No longer is it acceptable. In fact, back in Poland in 1420, the dousing got so dangerous, with young girls tossed into icy ponds, that a bishop issued a “Dingus Prohibetur,” forbidding such conduct.
And, no, for anyone wondering, Dyngus Day does not always fall on April Fools’ Day, as it does this year. It comes on the day after Easter Sunday. And festivities developed as a way of marking the end of the Lent.
Despite its origin, Dyngus Day is not a religious observance with special church services. Nor is it a political event, even though politicians come to campaign. The campaigning, even with presidential candidates at times, developed in South Bend because Dyngus Day comes shortly before the Indiana May primary elections. Candidates seek support amid the Dyngusing crowds.
No, South Bend isn’t the only place observing Dyngus Day. Other cities with significant numbers of folks of Polish descent, such as Pittsburgh, Cleveland and Chicago, have some events, although without citywide attention and political activity. Former South Bend residents have been known to have small Dyngus gatherings in places as far away as Alaska.
South Bend Dyngusing is not just a Polish thing. It’s observed with kielbasa on the menu at Italian restaurants, Irish bars and establishments of every description all around St. Joseph County and in neighboring counties.
Nor do Dyngusing crowds lack diversity. There is also a well-attended Black observance called Solidarity Day.
Anyone wanting to get into Dyngus Day history can stop in for noon activities at the ancient-looking West Side Democratic and Civic Club. That’s the place visited by presidential candidates from Pete Buttigieg, most recent, and on back to Bobby Kennedy in 1968. Kennedy took the place, the city and the state by storm a month before he was assassinated.
No, South Bend doesn’t have the largest Dyngus Day celebration. Buffalo, claiming to be the “Dyngus Day capital of the world,” brings in name entertainers for the mainstage at “Pussy Willow Park” and has a parade, streaming live, with floats, fire trucks and polka bands.
More: A Dyngus Day primer
But, no, Buffalo didn’t always have such a big production. It also once was a smaller event in Polish neighborhoods. A South Bend connection helped to spur its growth. Paul Neville, a South Bend Tribune editor who became a top editor of the Buffalo News in 1957, is said to have helped promote Dyngus Day there along lines he experienced in South Bend. Neville also was credited with helping to bring the Bills to Buffalo on 1960.
No, Dyngus Day is not bigger than the Bills in Buffalo. Nor is it bigger than Notre Dame in South Bend. But for one day in each city, it’s the biggest event.
Jack Colwell is a columnist for The Tribune. Write to him in care of The Tribune or by email at jcolwell@comcast.net.
This article originally appeared on South Bend Tribune: A look at South Bend's strange sounding holiday called Dyngus Day
