My Brooklyn (325)

Bob Barbera

My Brooklyn was Red Hook from 1948 to 1972, on Dennet Place, better known as Cats Alley, sliced between St. Mary, Star of the Sea Church on Court Street and the concrete El along Smith Street. It was a Brooklyn of imposing factories, bustling streets, screeching buses, rattling trains, and working people trying to make a go of things.

My Brooklyn was adolescent summer days spent roaming in Prospect Park, weekend movie matinees at the Clinton Theatre, cooling off at Coney Island, eating knishes on the boardwalk, racing track horses at Steeple Chase Park, diving at Red Hook Pool, bicycling every nook and cranny, Staten Island Ferry rides for a nickel, horseback riding at Garrison Beach, ring-o-levio by the Gowanus Canal, softball games in the park under the El, stickball on Nelson Street, Chinese ball against the school wall, stoop ball with off-the-point, sculley, tops, carpet guns, dowsing cars in the Johnny pump, hanging on corners playing Brisk, and eating some of the world's best calzones, pizzas, lemon ice.

My Brooklyn was a place of vanishing boyhood remembrances: the rapid disappearance of ice vendors, horse-drawn vegetable wagons and rag vendors, pushcart food vendors, Bungalow Bar ice cream trucks, dilapidated carnival ride trucks, fruit crate scooters, disappearing trolley cars, and saying farewell to the Brooklyn Dodgers in 1957.

My Brooklyn was High School days riding the GG train to Brooklyn Automotive in Greenpoint (Greenpernt to my dad), working at Eddie's grocery on Court and Nelson Streets, running wild in the Smith Street Gassy and adjoining Ryan's Concrete Company, watching the Ninth Street bridge raise and lower for tugs and barges, throwing rocks at whatever floated by in the canal, death defying bike rides down the Fifth Street and Hamilton Avenue hills, bus rides to downtown-Fulton Street or Fifth Avenue and Ninth Street, train rides to Kings Highway and Coney Island.
My Brooklyn is the fabric of my identity, the well spring to my sense of pride, the filter through which I see the world, shape my life, and share my stories. My Brooklyn is a long ways away, in time and place, but always near in thought and heart.

24 January 2001

David Mancini

My Brooklyn consisted of the years 1971–1989. Grew up in the most culturally diverse place I have ever been. Lived right across the street from the Parade Grounds at 55 Parade Place. Every day of the summer I can remember waking up and looking out the window to see if any one was playing basketball yet. Did lots of Brooklyn traveling too. Played basketball in Red Hook and Bushwick and Bed-Stuy and any number of other places where we could find a good game. Traveled the subway to high school in Bay Ridge (Xaverian) because my mom refused to let me go to Erasmus of the late eighties (Thanks Mom!) Drank beers in Marine Park and Park Slope and spent many a night traveling up Flatbush Avenue returning from Breezy Point. Even did some sailing out of the Sheepshead Bay Yacht Club. Ahh, that was the life. I've since moved on and lived all over the US and Europe and the one thing I miss most about Brooklyn is the PIZZA. Can't be replicated! Luckily my mom and sister now live in Bensonhurst and whenever I visit, after some mandatory "hello how are yous" I make a bee line for the nearest pizza joint for a slice with pepperoni and extra cheese and some sausage rolls to go. God Bless Brooklyn!

25 January 2001