You can say this about Lech Walesa: The guy didn't shy away from the neighborhood bully.

The Polish labor leader fought the bully toe-to-toe — and won.

His foe was the Soviet Union, which from the end of World War II through the 1980s ruled with an iron fist over Poland and much of the rest of Eastern Europe.

Soviet leaders disliked dissent from their satellite countries and had a history of ruthlessly putting down challenges to their authority.

But here was Walesa, leading worker revolts in the shipyard and elsewhere in Gdansk, Poland, staring down the unhappy glares of Soviet officials and the Polish communist government hierarchy.

Historians have long argued whether leaders are born to lead or are created by circumstances.

Certainly, Lech Walesa would be good fodder for such a discussion.

His family background is not one that would indicate he would grow to lead a national uprising.

Walesa was born in 1943 in Popowo, between Gdansk and the capital of Warsaw, into a family with an ancestry consisting largely of farmers, although his father was a carpenter.

He graduated from a vocational school. At 24, after working as a car mechanic and serving two years in the army, Walesa in 1967 took an electrician's job at the Lenin Shipyard in Gdansk, a Baltic port city.

It was there that events prompted Walesa to become a leader.

A devout Roman Catholic, he was shocked at the repression of worker protests and decided to get involved with opposition groups.

By 1970, despite the obligations presented by a family that would grow to include eight children, Walesa's boldness, wit and oratory skill had placed him among the leadership of the struggle to organize free noncommunist trade unions.

After a clash that year between shipyard workers and the government — an extension of Gdansk food riots in which police killed several protestors — Walesa and other leaders were arrested, then released.

Capturing the attention of communist authorities did not dissuade Walesa from agitating for reform.

"Our firm conviction is that ours is a just cause," he said.

It was a cause for which he paid a price. In 1976, Walesa was fired from his shipyard job due to his activities as a union steward. He had to take other jobs to feed his family.

Undaunted, Walesa kept up his opposition efforts, which led to surveillance from state security forces and frequent detainment.

Although faced with hardship inside his home, Walesa's status as a leader made him a national figure outside of it. He soon would become an international figure.

In July 1980, the Polish government raised food prices. Fed up, 100,000 people went on strike.

As had been the case throughout the previous decade, the Lenin Shipyard was at the center of the action.

On Aug. 14, Walesa climbed the fence of the shipyard to join workers who had successfully seized control of it and demanded that Walesa be reinstated to his job. He quickly was appointed their spokesman.

By then, Walesa's political gifts had bloomed. Although unpredictable and sometimes infuriating to those near him, he was wily and knew how to sense popular moods.

He was especially adept at swaying crowds, a talent he often used to moderate people's discontent.

Jokingly referring to himself as a fireman, he cautioned supporters against using rough stuff that would give authorities an excuse to crush the insurrection.

"We shall not yield to violence," he said.

Walesa believed the best hope of success lay in others joining the shipyard workers in peaceful protest.

He was instrumental in forming the Interfactory Strike Committee, which linked shipyard workers with laborers in 20 other striking factories in the Gdansk region.

The committee issued demands, the most prominent being the right to independent unions. Poland's Communist Party leadership, fearing widespread riots, met with Walesa and signed an agreement letting workers freely organize.

Soon the committee Walesa headed changed its name to one that became world famous: Solidarity.

Solidarity soon was recognized by the government and by late 1981 represented 10 million workers.

Walesa had steered the federation toward limited confrontation, but his initial instincts about reprisals from authorities proved correct.

In December 1981, new Prime Minister Wojciech Jaruzelski imposed martial law. Solidarity was outlawed, and Walesa and other Solidarity leaders were arrested. He was held in his house almost a year.

According to the book "A Force More Powerful: A Century of Nonviolent Conflict" by Peter Ackerman and Jack DuVall, Walesa challenged his captors.

"At this moment you lost," Walesa said as he was led away. "We are arrested, but you have driven a nail into your communist coffin. You'll come back to us on your knees."

In 1989, Walesa's words proved prophetic. The Polish government — faced with continued unrest and a teetering economy and knowing change was necessary — turned to Walesa and Solidarity for help.

Talks led to elections, starting in June 1989. Five months later the Berlin Wall fell, leading to communism's crumbling on the Continent.

For Walesa — who had become a national hero and a worldwide celebrity — the rewards were many.

Already in 1983 he had won the Nobel Peace Prize for helping break the grip of Soviet control over Poland without firing a shot. His tactics also drew warm praise from Polish native Pope John Paul II, with whom Walesa became friends.

In 1990, Walesa — a shipyard electrician only 10 years before — was elected president of Poland, a position he held until 1995.

His place in history is cemented.

"Without Walesa, the occupation strike in the Lenin Shipyard might never have taken off," British historian and author Timothy Ash wrote. "Without him, Solidarity might never have been born.

"Without him (Solidarity) might not have . . . come back triumphantly to negotiate the transition from communism to democracy. And without the Polish icebreaking, Eastern Europe might still be frozen in a Soviet sphere of influence."

BY JOHN WOOLARD