Showing posts with label Bedford. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bedford. Show all posts

Friday, December 24, 2010

The History of Bedford Avenue

By Becky Bratu and Lillian Rizzo

Bedford Numbers

To understand Brooklyn, you have to know its history, its neighborhoods, its people. And its Bedford Avenue.

The southern end of Brooklyn’s longest thoroughfare begins at a Sheepshead Bay pier and ends at Greenpoint’s 35-acre McCarren Park, which was once a public pool, then concert venue and now, once again, a pool-to-be. Bedford Avenue crosses through 10 neighborhoods and is 10.2 miles of houses, big and small, storefronts, churches, synagogues, schools, a college, playgrounds, restaurants and a housing development where Ebbets Field once stood.

The avenue traces its name to a 17th-century Dutch settlement near what is now Bedford-Stuyvesant. The Dutch were the first among colonial settlers in that area; they bought the woodlands from the Canarsie Indians and named the site Bedford. The area was used mostly for farming throughout the 18th century.

In 1869 Bed-Stuy was home to the Temple Israel, a synagogue located on Bedford and Lawrence avenues, according to the New York Historical Society. In 1905 the congregation had 600 members. When Jews began to leave the area, the building was demolished and the site has been used a municipal traffic court and then as a linoleum discount store. Temple Israel merged with another congregation, Beth Elohim, and reopened on Eastern Parkway near Flatbush Avenue.

By the turn of the 20th century, Brooklyn neighborhoods were getting their names from real estate developers and were made permanent once telephone companies named their exchanges after them. Neighborhoods along Bedford Avenue such as Williamsburg, Greenpoint, Bushwick and Bedford Stuyvesant were a part of this group. By the 1950s it was one of the few Brooklyn neighborhoods where blacks could buy houses. Heavyweight boxing champion Floyd Patterson, musician Eubie Blake, and baseball legend Jackie Robinson lived in Bed-Stuy, as have rappers Notorious B.I.G., Jay-Z and Lil’ Kim.

Greenpoint, one of the few Brooklyn neighborhoods that kept its original name, was another Dutch purchase used for farming. After 1840, the neighborhood was a center for shipbuilding. The Polish community was already settled in Greenpoint by the late 1930s.

Long before Williamsburg was to become the social scene that is today, it was a rural settlement in the Dutch town of Boswijck (Bushwick). During the mid-1800s, the neighborhood was known as a playground of the rich, who visited beer gardens, clubs and fancy hotels. But Williamsburg began to change again after the Williamsburg Bridge was opened in 1903, and Eastern European immigrants began to leave the crowded Lower East Side to live in airy Brooklyn. Jewish immigrants fleeing the Nazis settled in Williamsburg in the late 1930s and early 1940s, and today the area hosts more than 20 separate Hasidic sects.

In Crown Heights, Bedford Avenue intersects with Eastern Parkway, the first six-lane parkway in the world and host of the annual Labor Day West Indian parade. The Dutch first settled this area in the 1600s, and African American slaves farmed it. The neighborhood was once known as Crow Hill, and some suggest?the name was a reference to the original African settlement in the area. According to an 1873 Brooklyn Eagle story, the whites of the area called these settlers “crows.” The 20th century brought many changes to the neighborhood, including its name. Immigrants from the Caribbean began to settle here and by the mid-1940s the area had attracted a number of Lubavitch Hasidim whose world headquarters is at 770 Eastern Parkway.

Sheepshead Bay gets its name from a type of local fish. The area remained undiscovered by European colonists until the late 18th century. In the late 1800s, The Sheepshead Bay Race Track made this area a hot spot where wealthy New Yorkers ate steaks between races or gambled in local casinos. Supreme Court?Justice Ruth Bader Ginsberg, singer Carole King graduated from the neighborhood’s James Madison High School.

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A few bullet points about Bedford Avenue’s history:

Brooklyn College
The institution that became Brooklyn College was opened in 1910 in Manhattan as an extension of City College for Teachers. The Board of Higher Education authorized it to become a four-year institution called Brooklyn College in 1930, and in 1937 the present-day campus opened its doors on the site of the Flatbush?Golf Course. President Franklin D. Roosevelt laid the cornerstone in 1936. It was Roosevelt’s New Deal Federal Emergency Public Works Administration that put people to work in constructing the college. Beat poet Allen Ginsberg and violinist Itzhak Perlman taught here. In fall 2010, 16,912 undergraduate and graduate students enrolled at the college.

Just diagonal to the college at 2939 Bedford Avenue is Midwood High School, opened in 1940. Midwood was also constructed and opened as a part of the WPA. Some of Midwood’s famous graduates include director Woody Allen and author Eric Segal.

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Automobile Row
In 1929 a portion of Bedford Avenue, from Fulton Street to Eastern Parkway, was known as Brooklyn’s automobile row. The street was filled with car dealerships such as Buick, Ford, and Chrysler. Of all the buildings that housed these dealerships, only the gothic Studebaker building is still standing on the corner of Sterling Place. In 2000 it

received landmark status. Traffic along automobile row became so hectic that in 1929 the police installed a traffic tower at Grant Square, the same tactic used on Fifth Avenue in Manhattan to slow traffic.

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Prohibition
From 1919 to 1933 it was illegal to sell, manufacture and transport in the United States, although that didn’t stop people from drinking. The Bedford Nest speakeasy was located at 1286 Bedford Avenue. It was the borough’s most popular speakeasy and was raided almost weekly. Brooklyn’s liquor came through rumrunners who operating along the south shore of the borough.

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Ebbets Field

While Brooklyn was home to several baseball clubs by the mid-1800s, the Brooklyn Dodgers became the team of the borough in 1893 and stayed that way until they left for Los Angeles in October, 1957.

The home of the Brooklyn Dodgers was Ebbets Field, located on Bedford Avenue in Flatbush. Nicknamed “Dem Bums” the Dodgers won the National League championships in 1941, 1947, 1949, 1952 and 1953, but couldn’t make it past the New York Yankees in any of those World Series. In 1955 they finally won the World Series against the Yankees, bringing Brooklyn to a state of pandemonium.

Ebbets Field sat in one of the borough’s most diverse neighborhoods, and that diversity was mirrored on the field in 1947 when the Dodgers broke baseball’s color line with the arrival of the game’s first black player, Jackie Robison. The Dodgers’ owner, Walter O’Malley, was eager to leave cramped and aging Ebbets Field. But unable to convince the city – and its ultimate power, Robert Moses – to sell him the land cheaply for a new park in downtown Brooklyn, O’Malley took the club away, and broke Brooklyn’s heart.

Ebbets Field was demolished in 1960. And in 1962 the Ebbets Field apartment complex was built on the site.

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Bedford Avenue Project: When They Lived in Brooklyn

Over the past two weeks we have been running stories aimed at the question, “Who is Brooklyn?” Today is the last day of the Bedford Avenue Project and although some features, such as the interactive map, will continue growing, we offer two final pieces written by the editors of the The Brooklyn Ink, Mike Hoyt and Michael Shapiro—who both, at one time, lived in Brooklyn and who both, eventually, chose to leave.

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By Mike Hoyt

Rent is why I came to Brooklyn and also why I left, though there is more to the story.

I am unlikely to forget the day we moved there, because it was the day before my first child was born, in June of 1982.? We had been living in a dark and cramped fifth-floor walkup on the Upper West Side. The rooftop was basically ours in summer, which was lovely, but it was not a place to take a baby. We needed room, so we followed the subway lines out to where we might get some. We found a third-floor walkup in Carroll Gardens that made the place in Manhattan look like a closet. Beautiful tin ceilings, an ancient but airy kitchen, a closeline out the window over the fire escape. It was reasonable, too.

The landlord was rehabbing the building and behind schedule, but the pregnancy wouldn’t wait, and we were the first to move in. My wife insisted on carrying some of the small stuff, which may have triggered her labor. We went to a diner to feed the friends who had helped us, and after they left, she said, surprisingly calmly, “guess what?” The next morning, we would start a family. In Brooklyn. Everything was different.

My wife grew up in Sheepshead Bay, but even to her, Carroll Gardens was something new. And to me, a Midwesterner, it was the red-brick heart of Brooklyn. The neighborhood was solid Italian and we were not. We were the first of what would be a wave of gentrifiers, and we got a chilly reception at first. I’ve always thought that a Fourth of July fireworks extravaganza in the street right below us was staged for our benefit; it was as if a truckload of M-80s went into the celebration. But an infant in your arms soon melts that kind of tension away. Not too much later, another one was on the way, and the old women in the neighborhood claimed they could guess the gender by the shape of my wife’s belly. (They were right, too: another girl.)

Frank and Mary lived upstairs, a retired longshoreman and his wife. The landlord, we soon learned, had let them stay but had cut their apartment in half and installed a lawyer on the other side of a new wall. They would invite us upstairs to dinners, at which the first course was so delicious and bountiful that the other three were daunting. Every once in a while they blew off steam in a fight, in which the dialogue went this way:

Frank: (stage whisper) Mary! People will hear you!

Mary: (very loud) I don’t give a shit!

Frank: Mary!

Mary: I don’t give a shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit.

And so forth.

We loved the neighbors and the neighborhood. The food shopping was a treat. At the “Pork Store,” cheeses and meats hung from above, and the smell of roasting coffee filled the air. At the pastry store, forget about it. Two of our children were baptized in the stately old churches nearby. Daughter number one learned to ride a new blue bike, with training wheels, around the busy block, hearing a great deal of instruction from me about the function of stop signs.? We watched the old men play bocce in summer and the lights go up at Christmas.

We might have stayed, even with an expanding family, but the landlord—he who had chopped Frank and Mary’s place; he who the whole neighborhood despised, because he was an agent of the change that was to come—doubled the rent. The four of us, eventually to be five, found a nice little rental in Jersey, with a yard and a street full of neighbor kids running around. That place we came to love, too, but we still come back to Carroll Gardens to walk around.

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By Michael Shapiro

I was 21 when I finally left Brooklyn, and in 1974 that was considered late. Brooklyn was then a place to leave, especially if you were young and eager and searching for people just like you. My parents wanted to leave in 1952 and would have moved to Long Island had my grandfather been willing to help them with the $1, 000 down payment for a house in Syosett. He was sure that if they moved to “the country” he and my grandmother would never see us again.

My parents, as if trying to create some distance from the borough in which they’d both grown up, refused to join in the ritual of the Sunday dinners?at?Lundy’s,?the vast barn of a restaurant in Sheepshead Bay. They aspired to Manhattan, which meant family dinners in the Village at places like the Ninth Circle Steakhouse and Monte’s, on MacDougal?Street.

My Brooklyn felt like a great, flat, and lifeless place, where my friends and I longed for the day when we could drive, and, at long last, get away. It was possible to live in a tiny pocket of Brooklyn, and seldom step outside. I certainly did. My life was confined to the square mile that encompassed my elementary school, high school and alma mater, Brooklyn College, right across the street from?Midwood?High. Everyone I knew and loved lived within that square mile, a village in the city.

There was nothing cool about my Brooklyn and nothing especially cool about the rest of the borough, save for the occasional Bohemian apartment, like the one on President Street across from Prospect Park where my music teacher lived. A friend who lived in Park Slope avoided having people visit her home because she was embarrassed about living in such a down-on-its-heels neighborhood.

Brooklyn then was caught between two epochs: the time of the Dodgers when, as selective memory had it, the sun shone every day on a packed Ebbets Field; and the then-unimaginable Brooklyn where young people flocked to, of all places, Williamsburg.

And so it felt necessary to leave. Maybe you left for college, and did not come back and, or, you waited until you got married and left first for Staten Island and for New Jersey, returning on weekends to visit your parents until they left, too, for South Florida.

I left for graduate school, having lingered a little too long, perhaps out of inertia, or more likely out of fear of leaving my small, safe if stultifying corner of the world.

I did not find the leaving easy. But then leaving for the unknown and unfamiliar never is, no matter how thrillingly it is anticipated. I came twice to live, but did not stay long. My parents left, and settled where they’d always wanted to be: Manhattan.

It would be nice to be able to say that I missed Brooklyn. But I did not, certainly not the place I knew. Yet I felt, and still feel, a connection to the place, not as it was, but as I imagined it might have once been like—the sepia-tinged Brooklyn of kids playing stickball in the streets, the stoops filled with people, the Dodgers on the radio.

I do not recognize Brooklyn as it has become, the Brooklyn where my son goes to high school and my daughter goes to eat. I am a stranger there, having left long before it was fashionable to stay.

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Wednesday, December 22, 2010

Voices of Bedford Ave

By Idil Abshir, Yolanne Almanzar, Joseph Deaux, Mariya Karimjee, and Abigail Ronck

Reporters for The Brooklyn Ink speak to residents of Bedford Avenue who explain why its longest avenue matters.

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Brooklyn Native Jose Ortiz talks about moving back to the borough and the new neighborhood he found around Bedford.

Jose Ortiz sits in a laundromat on Bedford Ave. in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. (Joe Deaux/The Brooklyn Ink)

Jose Ortiz sits in a laundromat on Bedford Ave. in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. (Joe Deaux/The Brooklyn Ink)

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Shannon Shaughnessy: Bedford Avenue, Brooklyn’s main street.

Shannon Shaughnessy stands outside the Metropolitan Pool and Recreation Center in Brooklyn. (Joe Deaux/The Brooklyn Ink)

Shannon Shaughnessy stands outside the Metropolitan Pool and Recreation Center in Brooklyn. (Joe Deaux/The Brooklyn Ink)

Carol Selby: Clothes from the threads up.

Original designs in Carla Selby's dress shop, Carla's Creative Workshop. (Abigail Ronck/The Brooklyn Ink)

Original designs in Carla Selby's dress shop, Carla's Creative Workshop. (Abigail Ronck/The Brooklyn Ink)

Roger Cowie: IT on Bedford Avenue.

Storefront of Roger Cowie's Computer Clinic, a father & son business on Bedford Ave. (Abigail Ronck/The Brooklyn Ink)

Storefront of Roger Cowie's Computer Clinic, a father & son business on Bedford Ave. (Abigail Ronck/The Brooklyn Ink)

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Bedford Avenue Interactive Slideshow


The staff of the Ink stitched together an interactive slideshow that takes you from McCarren Park in Greenpoint to Sheepshead Bay. Along the way we’ve put together eight audio slideshows of businesses or places along the avenue. Click on the embedded video icons to play them.

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Bedford Avenue Interactive Map

THE WHO IS BROOKLYN? MAP

Bedford Ave Map

The Brooklyn Ink is collecting data on as many people in BK as possible to answer the question “Who is Brooklyn?” We’re making an interactive map that you can view as it develops. We are asking residents “How long have you lived here?” and “How long do you plan to stay?” to get a picture of the borough’s residents. Check it out here and submit your own report to add to it!

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