My Brooklyn (236)

Ron Dowd

Just saw "My Brooklyn" for the first time. . . . Am a born Brooklynite (Park Slope and then 65th St. & 18th Ave.) before moving upstate NY in '69. . . . Saw a Nov. '95 note from one Marty Mintz of Brooklyn. . . . Coincidentally, we both graduated from George Westinghouse in' 57. . . . He was last living in CA. . . . All of the Readers Reports detail vividly the years '39 through '69 when Brooklyn was "The World."

5 February 2000

Mary Lundeen

I was born in 1937 in Brooklyn Hospital and lived for 18 years on Prospect Place, between Vanderbilt and Carleton. My parents then sold their brownstone and moved to the suburb (New Jersey). I attended P.S. 9 until 4th grade and then Berkeley Institute (now The Berkeley-Carroll School) through high school. My parents had come from Arkansas and Iowa and were very poor during the Depression but made good in Brooklyn. My mother taught speech at Brooklyn College, and my father worked in Manhattan. I have great nostalgia for the Brooklyn of the 40s and 50s—especially, my neighborhood.

Does anyone remember Finkeldey's bakery, Joondeph's pharmacy, the Plaza Theatre, Bohack's grocery, the Richelieu restaurant? I played with the kids on my street till dark and our mothers didn't worry, and I rode the subway alone at a young age. I walked with my girlfriends up to the park on hot summer evenings. I remember trolleys and peddlers with horse-drawn carts and subway cars with ceiling fans and cane seats! Of course, we shopped at Namm's and Loeser's and A&S and May's. I knew all the nooks and crannies in the neighborhood from playing city games. My mother used to leave the key under the mat (outdoors) for me when she was out! I still have the identification tag schoolchildren had to wear during the war, and remember bomb drills. A spaldeen, a jumprope, and a set of jacks were basic equipment for girls. The boys played stickball in the street, stopping whenever a car came down the street, which wasn't that often.

6 February 2000

My Brooklyn

Readers' reports continue . . .