JOVICA PURIĆ, THE MAN WHO SAVED THE HONOR AND CULTURAL SOUL OF BIJELJINA

There are people who never enter textbooks, yet remain embedded in the foundations of a city. They are not carved into monuments, but they carry a monument within themselves. One of them was Jovica Purić, a native of Bijeljina whose name is rarely spoken today, although his deeds left a mark that transcends time, interest, and personal gain.

PHOTO: Infobijeljina.com

In the 1970s, Bijeljina had only three lawyers: Raca Todorović, Oto Svoboda, and Slavko Crnojački. Alongside Slavko, from 1972 until his death in 1975, worked a young lawyer, Jovica Purić. Their law office was located in the house of Magdalena Živanović, a woman whose name is inseparably linked to one of the most beautiful and discreet chapters of Serbian literature—the love of the great poet Jovan Dučić.

Slavko Crnojački, Magdalena Živanović’s nephew, lived a life divided between Germany and Bijeljina. In Germany, he had a family; in Bijeljina, the silence of a hidden fate. From an extramarital relationship with Ozrenka Radovanović, the office cleaner, a boy named Jovan was born. It was Jovica Purić who patiently and persistently urged Slavko to acknowledge the child, to give him integrity, identity, and the right to a life free of shame.

After Slavko’s death, Ozrenka and little Jovan were left without security. Jovica remained to complete the unfinished legal cases, but without realizing it, he was about to play one of the most honorable roles in the cultural history of Bijeljina.

One autumn morning, among old files stacked in cabinets and on shelves, Jovica Purić discovered letters written by Jovan Dučić to Magdalena Živanović—around forty letters filled with confession, tenderness, and the thoughts of a great poet.

At that moment, he could have done what many would have done: keep them, hide them, sell them in silence, or even discard them without understanding their value. He did none of that. He did what was right.

Aware of the immense cultural value of the letters and the difficult fate of Ozrenka and her son, Jovica explained to her what lay before them. He suggested contacting Matica srpska in Belgrade and offering the letters for purchase, in order to secure a future for young Jovan. Ozrenka agreed, trusting Jovica more than paper documents or institutions.

Three days later, academics and a graphologist arrived in Bijeljina. Within minutes, the authenticity of the letters was confirmed. An agreement was quickly reached: Matica srpska purchased the letters for 20,000 German marks. That money gave Ozrenka a new beginning. She bought property in Bogutovo Selo and educated her son, who later moved to Austria.

And Jovica Purić? Quietly and without publicity, he photocopied about ten letters, understanding that cultural heritage does not belong solely to institutions, but also to the city where it was discovered. Thanks to his son Nenad, those copies later found their way to the National Library “Filip Višnjić,” where they are preserved to this day.

Thus, the letters of Jovan Dučić remained in Bijeljina—not thanks to the system, not thanks to the state, but thanks to the integrity of one man.

Jovica Purić passed away in 2005. Without an award. Without public recognition. Without a single official word of gratitude from the city to which he left a legacy of immeasurable value.

Jovica Purić did not only save the letters of Jovan Dučić from oblivion. He preserved the dignity of a child, secured a home and a future for a mother, and showed that honesty is not a weakness, but the highest form of strength. A city that forgets this, has forgotten itself.