1310 Avenue R. - My First Rooftop

I would be remiss if I were to let this month pass without mentioning 1310 Avenue R. in Brooklyn. I lived there from 1961 until 1972 when I left home for the last time. There are so many memories tangled up with that building, and all 70 families that lived there, that I wouldn't even know where to begin.

There were John and Katy Bucholtz, he was an ex-Nazi who served as the superintendent of the building; then across the hall from us were the Gold’s, two elderly German Jews who had escaped Nazi Germany and were the kindest of neighbors. They were friends with John and Katy, all vestiges of the war behind them. There were also the Ross family, who were Orthodox Jews; and the Roth’s, Mr. Roth was a detective Sergeant; and there was also the Cuban family who arrived in the fall of 1962 from Miami, where they had fled to from Castro. The father was a banker, which may have something to do with the family’s success in getting out. They had 2 kids, John and Robert. Later they moved to the 6^th floor. These are just 4 of the 11 families who lived on our floor.

The rest of the building was composed of mainly Jewish families; some large, some small. There was also a single "efficiency" apartment on each floor. Mr. Ginsburg, a curmudgeonly older man, occupied the apartment next door to my family. He was a typewriter repairman with ear problems. He was also a pain in the ass, calling the police with a noise complaint at every possible excuse. I swear he once called the cops because he heard no noise coming from our apartment and thought it was "odd".

The building also boasted 2 apartments on the ground floor which had their own private entrances. These were located at the 2 front corners of the building. I never knew the family who occupied the East 13th Street side, but the East 14th Street "garden apartment"; as they were called; was occupied by a dentist named Marvin Cohen.

The building also had a doorman and a janitor; though the various doormen only lasted for the first 7 years. There was a string of them, my favorite being the last one, Larry. He was about 100 if he was a day, and the residents were always worried about him. He would sit on the lobby sofa and struggle to get up and open the door. Most of the time, the residents would motion through the glass for Larry to sit down, as no one wanted to be responsible for his sudden, though overdue, demise.

Each year around the holidays the lobby would be decorated with a Christmas tree and lights. There was also a Happy Chanukah banner displayed across the wall to wall mirror which faced the doors from the street. The garden area outside was also decorated with colored lights and there were candles in the window of the rock garden inside the lobby. I used to water those plants for 25 cents a day. I also used to round up the newspapers from the garbage room on each floor. You were not supposed to put them down the incinerator chute because they made black smoke and the building’s owner could be fined. The papers I gathered were set aside and sold by the janitor to the "paper pulp" guy and I would get a "share" of the money.

There was an underground parking garage with a "secure" locking system. If you waited long enough each night you could hear the cars screeching up the ramp and out into the street when they were being stolen. Nothing is more attractive to a car thief than a safe well lit environment in which to work. This was especially true on rainy or cold nights.

But, the crowning glory to this building; at least to the 7 year old who lived there; was the roof. From the very first days we lived there i was drawn to it. It began innocently enough, with my taking the stairs to the top. I just wanted to see where they went. Up and up I climbed; my 7 year old legs pumping hard and fast as I rounded the turn between each floor; nearer to the top with each step.

When I got there I was rewarded with the greatest gift of all; a sign which said "Do Not Enter." Now, I don't know who the genius was that came up with the idea of a sign to keep a 7 year old off of the roof, but I wasn't buying it. Not for one moment. There was a whole world to be discovered beyond that door, and no sign was going to keep me out. Besides, I reasoned that if caught up there, I could always say I couldn't read.

At any rate the roof became my secret place to go. I would head up there with my 6 transistor radio, trying to get stations from as far away as possible. It turned out that I had better luck at night downstairs in my bed. During the day the sun's rays heated up the ionosphere and made it harder to pick up those stations. But on a cold clear night I could get Canada, and even West Virginia. I had a whole collection of postcards from those stations acknowledging the letters I used to send to each one, letting them know how far their signal had traveled.

Summertime was a time of daily visits to the "roof". I used to go up there just for the view. You could see Manhattan to the north, including the Twin Towers. To the south and slightly west was Coney Island, including the Parachute Jump. Directly south it was hard to see much because there were so many other buildings in the line of sight. But this became my haven for many years, a place I could go to when I had no place to go.

As I got older the roof became even more important to me. It was a place to go with friends, outside of the sphere of my parents influence. Hell, they never went up there! And even later, after my Mom had passed away and I was grown, I still went up there. I even grew some pot plants on top of the elevator shaft, one story closer to the sun, and the superintendent’s wife; in all her innocence; watered them for me.

I suppose you are wondering why I am writing about this building, and the roof. Well, I file my daily blogs by year, month and date. So, all this month; every day this month; I have filed my blogs under 13-10-and the day of the month. For example, today will be filed under 13-10-30. And, each day this month I have thought about writing of the roof at 1310 Avenue R. Today, with only one day left to go before it becomes another unrealized thought, I have.

"Now and Then" by Joseph Heller (1998)

I’ve been re-reading some of my favorite books in the past few weeks. In “thinning out the herd” of the books which I have accumulated over the past years I ran across this book about growing up in Brooklyn’s Coney Island area during the Great Depression.

The book is filled with everything good about that experience. The walks to and from school, the street games played by all kids, the foods in the area around the Boardwalk, the subway, the stores; it’s all written in a wonderfully engaging style.

Joseph Heller is the author who bought us the sensational novel of wartime futility “Catch 22”. He had a unique insight into that subject as he served in the Second World War under similar circumstances to those in his iconic novel. That experience is also briefly covered here as well as the author's childhood years.

But the real joy of this book; at least for those who grow there; are his recollections of Brooklyn in what Woody Allen would later refer to as “Radio Days.” If you have parents, or even grandparents who grew up in Brooklyn during the Depression, then this book is a unique look into the world they inhabited and an insight into just who they were as people. And that's a key to who we, as their children; and later, their grandchildren; became.

Gone to the Beach!

I'm taking some days off to go to the beach; first time in 4 years! Not sure I’ll actually be able to walk around on the sand; as a matter of fact, I can’t. But, just seeing it again after so long a time will probably be kind of emotional.

I grew up less than a mile from Brighton Beach; a mile from Coney Island; both in Brooklyn. And  just a half hour to the east by bicycle put me in Riis Park, Queens. The next stop east from those places would be Spain. I never did swim it. As Burt Lancaster said in the film “Atlantic City”, “The Atlantic Ocean? You should have seen it in the old days. Yeh, the ocean was really something back then.”

It’s like that in memory; we enlarge things. And sometimes we get disappointed when confronted with the reality of what something has become. Burt Lancaster was right in certain respects. Back in the old days the ocean was a huge barrier. No transatlantic flights; telephone service was expensive and difficult; and ocean travel was infinitely slower than today. So the ocean is smaller than it used to be in that respect.

But it still holds all of its majesty. It still has that fury when the wind kicks it up, or when the tide pulls upon it to excess. Ships still go down to the bottom; taking their crews with them; somethings never change. I've lived near it; worked upon it; swam in it; and fished in it my whole life; but it has never ceased to astound me. It’s still both bigger and stronger than I am. They say it's where life began.

Well, enough for now, I'll see you when I get back! Enjoy my vacation…

"The Lost Tribe of Coney Island" by Claire Prentice (2014)

Be prepared to be amazed by this remarkable book from author Claire Prentice. Carefully she introduces us to the main protagonist, Mr. Truman Hunt; a man as shrouded in mystery as he is flamboyant; and then just as quickly we are witness to his vagaries and vices, which eventually lead to his ultimate downfall.  This story takes place in the Philippines and then in the United States; notably in Coney Island at Luna Park; in 1905, just as America was advancing her interests in the Philippine Islands.

But the real story begins one year earlier when a band of assorted tribes from the northern Philippine Islands were first exhibited at the International Exposition in St. Louis. But calling it an exhibition did not allay the true purpose of the show; that is to turn a profit. The show featured the natives in a village like setting; kind of like the “natural habitats” found in zoos today, only with human beings on display rather than animals.

Truman Hunt had been an assistant governor of the Philippine Islands and was regarded by the tribe known as Igorottes to be a fair minded and intelligent man. And, at first he was. As a physician he was invaluable to the tribe; healing the sick, setting broken bones and even pulling bad teeth. His reputation was so great that at one point it became a symbol of status to have a tooth removed; if only to prove that you had been to the white man’s doctor. He was the man to whom the tribe would come with legal problems, considering him to be a very learned and compassionate man.

Having seen the Exhibition in St. Louis Dr. Hunt returned to the Philippines with the idea of bringing his own tribe of natives home to America for a tour of the fairs and amusement parks that proliferated the nation. But any exhibition would require financing and so he began to cast about for partners in his venture. He needed about $3,000 to get the Igorottes to America. It would be a long journey; beginning on foot and then crossing the Pacific Ocean to Washington State and from there by rail to Chicago and finally Coney Island in Brooklyn, New York.

By 1904 the movies were beginning to show their potential for entertaining the masses, and to that end most entrepreneurs were scrambling about for newer and bigger ways to attract audiences. In New York City that meant a new venue called the Hippodrome was being constructed. It would be a veritable palace of entertainment for decades to come. It was the Madison Square Garden of its time. Fred Thompson and Elmer Dundy, who owned an exhibit in Coney Island, were also the owners of this new venue.  They had heard of Dr. Hunt’s plans for exhibiting the Igorottes and were bidding on the rights to have them set up in Luna Park.

The story of the back dealing to get the tribe to America; as well as their reactions to things like ships and trains, which they had never seen; is a gripping story all by itself. This group of natives was planning on spending on year away from their families before returning with enough capital to start businesses and even get educations. But, after every promise made to them has been broken; and after they have been ill fed and ill clothed for over a year, never getting paid for their efforts; they would return home with only $35 apiece. However, they did get quite an education in the ways of the outside world in the time they were gone.

The cast of characters include Julio, the Igorotte who acts as the interpreter for Dr. Hunt and the tribe. He is also the most affected by Dr. Hunt’s eventual betrayal.  As the interpreter he felt personally responsible for all of the lies he has relayed to his friends and family. Even when the case comes to court he feels some guilt at betraying his master. By that time the tribe; as well as Julio; had been reduced to slave like status, following Dr. Truman wherever he led them to make a buck.

This is a story of an innocent people who think they have made bargain to ensure their future, relying on the word of the man they had come to view as somewhat of a god. This is also the story of how he abused that trust, becoming; as the money rolled in; a completely different person than the man he had been before.

It is also the story of the Unite States government and their search for Dr. Hunt on a variety of criminal charges; ranging from kidnapping to robbery and even bigamy. The book is filled with villains of every stripe; but for every villain met along the way there are heroes who pursue the case doggedly, until the Igorottes have been returned to their families.

This book is a tour de force for the author as well as the reader. Ms. Prentice has created a book which not only chronicles the case at hand, but also the climate concerning entertainment and what was acceptable as such at the time. And along the way she gives a wonderful history of Luna Park; and the fascinating men, and money which created it.

"Coney Island Baby" - The Excellents (1962)

With all of the cold weather slamming us lately I thought we all could use a break and head to the beach. While looking through the you tubes I ran across this "oldie but goodie" by The Excellents from 1962. Lou Reed also did an album called Coney Island Baby in the late 1970's or early '80's. I always thought he took the name from this song.

The Excellents were really the remnants of the Bronx based sextet known as The Premieres. Not having an amusement park on their beach, naturally they had to sing about ours in Brooklyn. And there was no way that a doo-wop group outta the Bronx was gonna cut a record about Brooklyn, and so they became the Excellents.

Brooklyn isn't the center of the earth; though it's close. The first time that I was in Italy I was kind of surprised to see that they had chewing gum called "Brooklyn Bridge". I was flattered. And even in the red light districts of France, Germany, Alexandria, Subic Bay and all the rest, there is always a Brooklyn Bar. We're everywhere!

Enjoy the song and sights and sounds of the past with this little video. Hope it carries you through the cold weather. Don't worry, spring is coming soon! I hope.

"Topsy" by Michael Daly (2013)

Growing up in Brooklyn I have always been aware of the story of Topsy, the elephant who was cruelly killed at Coney Island long before I was born. But, until now, I never knew the full story, nor of the people involved in it. Thanks to Mr. Daly I now know the facts of the matter, which are not at all pretty. And when you do hear the whole story, your estimation of some very famous people may be lowered by a notch or two.

The author begins with the birth of an elephant in the wilds of Ceylon, now Sri Lanka, on the southern tip of India. He chronicles the life of an ordinary elephant calf, including the hunt and capture by traders, who then transport the animals to Europe for sale. The first elephant arrived in Europe with Emperor Claudius in 43 A.D. After that it would be over 1,000 more years until another elephant was presented to European royalty in 1255, this time as a gift from Louis IX to Henry III. Even Pope Leo X eventually got one, given to him by King Manuel of Portugal in 1514. He is buried on the grounds of the Vatican.

Eventually, in 1796 the newly freed English colonies in America acquired their own elephant. This one was named simply The Elephant, since it was the only one on the continent. But, this didn't last for long. By 1804 a second elephant was bought over to America and purchased by a farmer named Bailey who lived North of Manhattan in Westchester. He paid $1,000 for the elephant, and then sold a “share” of him to a man who took him on a tour of the colonies. To avoid people seeing the elephant for free they traveled at night.

The admission price was 50 cents to see the elephant named Old Bet, who was named after Mr. Bailey’s daughter Betsy, but this price was too steep for the time and was soon reduced to 25 cents; still a lot of coin for the time. So, in order to stop people from seeing her for free, they erected canvas around the area, allowing enough room for the paying customers to observe this unusually docile creature. In just a few more years a top would be added as protection against the weather, thus creating the “bigtop” as we commonly refer to the circus now.

Of particular fascination in the lead up to the main story of Topsy is the history of the traveling troupes of acrobats; as well as the groups of exotic animals which were called “menageries”; and who both traveled the country exhibiting their unique, but separate forms of entertainment. It was only after both of these elements were put together in one show that the modern equivalent of a “circus” came into being.

When Barnum met Bailey, a national entertainment was perfected. The circus, which required cunning and genius to organize; which Bailey possessed; also took a man of rare talent, and the ability to promote something; which is exactly what Barnum possessed. Together, the two of them founded a company which would dominate the circus world for more than a century; and probably still does, though neither man's family owns it any longer.

Along with the story of Topsy and these two men there is another tale, one which involves Tesla, Edison and Westinghouse; as well as an excitable public; always eager to see something new and horrific. The rivalry between Edison and Westinghouse; coupled with Edison’s loss of control over his own company; all contributed to the demise of Topsy in a race to prove the practicality of using electric current as a means of punishment for criminals; or to be more direct; the electric chair.

Topsy was the first elephant to meet a violent end in America, after she had killed; or wounded; several individuals who were tormenting her. The part of this book which will astonish you the most is the fact that cruelty towards animals was so common place at the time. Though Topsy was the first to be successfully executed for pure spectacle does not discount that others had tried to do this before. There were other elephants previous to Topsy; such as Jumbo; who thrilled audiences for years, only to have his bones displayed by P.T.Barnum for 25 cents a look in New York.

The book is sprawling in its range, encompassing even the founding of Luna Park in Brooklyn’s Coney Island, as well as the sadistic trainer who abused Topsy until her fateful day. When that day arrived, the only help that she received was from the SPCA, which forbade the owners from charging to see Topsy killed. The crowd was limited to about 800 select people, all of whom were either reporters, or residents of Coney Island. Below is the film which Edison took of the execution. Don't watch if you are easily upset. The date of the film is January, 2, 1903.

A startling look at the underside of human nature, this book reads like a film, and haunts the reader afterward with questions about who we all are, and why? There are no more public executions of animals anymore; either for profit, or even to prove a point. But the fact that there once was, and laws had to be passed to outlaw the practice in the first place, is what really disappoints me the most.

"On a Carousel" - The Hollies (1967)

While reading Glen Slater's blog “It’s Never Been Easy” the other day I got hung up on this song and a few memories; all of which can be blamed on Mr. Slater and his post about a Carousel, which can be viewed here;

http://itsneverbeeneasy.wordpress.com/2013/01/28/the-boy-who-ran-the-carousel/ 

I think it was around March of 1970, probably late in the month, when John and Jimmy and I went down to Coney Island. The amusement parks, like Luna and Astroland, didn't open until April, but some of the concession stands; most notably Nathan’s; were open year round. So, we spent our 20 cents each and got on the subway for the 15 minute trip to Coney Island. In nice weather it was about 20 minutes to ride a bicycle there, but it was March, so we took the train.

Unlike other neighborhoods; we never called the Merry Go Round a Carousel. That term was reserved for the ride in Central Park, which I only remember riding one time. With only a little man-made lake nearby; rather than the Atlantic Ocean; the Carousel just never held the allure of the Merry Go Round in Coney Island. The Merry Go Round seemed more proletariat to me, like something my Uncle Irving would have ridden as a kid. On the other hand, the Carousel seemed to be geared more toward the Manhattan crowd, and all  those gentried folk who live by the Park itself.

The big prize on the Merry Go Round was to grab the proverbial “brass ring” which hung precariously from a wooden board protruding from a vertical post,  and always seemed just out of reach until you were too old to ride the merry go round anymore.

There was also the Wonder Wheel, with  swinging gondola cars mounted on rails which made the gondolas glide precariously to the outer edges of the wheel itself, giving the impression that you were about to be hurled off of the wheel and into the ocean; or even into the crowds below.

When we got tired of being scared to death on that, there was always the confusion of riding the Tilt-A-Whirl. This was one of those rides which are based on the love of centrifugal force, with the spider like arms of the ride spinning faster and faster, almost as if they were about to become detached, once again launching the rider into orbit. When you’d get off of the Tilt-A-Whirl, the meaning behind the name of the ride became apparent. We walked like drunken sailors for a block or so as our equilibrium restored itself.

The crowning delight of a cold March day had to have been a hot dog at Nathan’s with a hot chocolate to wash it down. The combination would probably kill me today, but back then; to a 15 year old; it was a delicacy.

A few of the Roll-a-Ball places were open and so we lost a few bucks there, accumulating tickets towards prizes we would never get. I don’t recall whether or not the bumper cars were open at the time. But we did ride those at other times.

This is just one of those memories which came of reading Glen Slater’s post about the “Boy Who Ran the Carousel.”  That’s the best part of blogging; reading another person’s story can often jog your own memory with delightful results. 

"New York at War" by Steven H. Jaffe (2012)

With the exception of the American Revolution, and later the Civil War Draft Riots, New York City has managed to escape the ravages of war. Yet, she has played a major part in every war since Henry Hudson first sailed up the Narrows and into the Hudson River in 1609. Author Steven Jaffe has done an admirable job of chronicling the history of war in the New York during the 4 centuries since then.

Beginning with Henry Hudson sending 5 men to explore the northern reaches of the lower Bay, during which sailor John Colman was killed by an arrow from one of the local Indian tribes, the book takes on the Indian Wars, before delving into the American Revolution. Washington’s retreat from Brooklyn, across Manhattan, is covered very well, as are the “hulks” in Wallabout Bay, the site of today’s Brooklyn Navy Yard. The “hulks” were the British prison ships, aboard which thousands perished from want of food, water, clothing and sheer cruelty on the part of the British.
 
The War of 1812 brought panic to the city, as it prepared for an invasion which never came. The forts which were built during this period made any thought of invading New York from the sea impossible 50 years later when the nation was torn by Civil War.

The Civil War seems almost lacking in the memories of New Yorkers, mainly because no battle was ever fought that far North. But the city teemed with danger during this period as Confederate sympathizers from Canada plotted to burn the city to the ground, destroying the manufacturing, and banking facilities, which enabled the North to cripple the South. That plot was unsuccessful, doing nowhere near the damage caused by the Draft Riots of 1863. Those riots were largely caused by the friction between freed African-Americans, and the newly arrived Irish, as they struggled for jobs. There was also an economic reason behind the riots. Poor white Irish citizens could not afford to pay a substitute to do their fighting, meaning that an unduly large number of the soldiers conscripted were Irish. These riots diverted thousands of troops from Gettysburg, and had the potential of causing the Union to lose the war.

The Spanish-American War was very much a "New York" war. Although there was no violence; or even riots; caused by the war, the war itself was largely the creation of New York newspapers and “yellow journalism.”

The First World War was a bit more complicated for the city. The warring powers were divided into 2 camps; the Allied Powers of England, France, Italy and Russia; and the Central Powers of Germany, Austria-Hungary, and the Ottoman Empire. With the city composed of so many different nationalities, loyalties ran the gamut. The impact of the outbreak of war in Europe was so great, that the stock market was closed for 4 months in fear of a financial panic.

The Irish did not support Britain, hoping that a German victory would give Ireland its freedom. The Jewish population was divided politically. They were hard pressed to back the Allies, who included Russia; and the Czar who caused them to flee their native land; while at the same time many saw the war as the best chance to defeat the Ottoman Empire, thus establishing a Zionist Holy land in Palestine.

Militarily, New York was technically invaded by the Germans, who used early submarines to mine the mouth of the harbor off Coney Island and Sandy Hook, New Jersey. They were also able to cut the underwater cable connecting New York to Nova Scotia, and thus to Europe. 15 ships were sunk by the German submarines within miles of the beaches at Atlantic City and Coney Island. These actions left New York in a state of panic. Milkmen of German descent were not allowed to work their routes along the coast, lest they use the opportunity to signal German ships and submarines waiting off shore.

Even before the United Staes entered the war, the war came to New York. At 2 AM on July 30, 1916, a huge explosion took place when German saboteurs blew up a munitions depot. The explosion was felt, and heard, as far away as Maryland.

By 1920 class warfare invaded Wall Street, largely the result of the inequities between the working class socialists and their capitalist counterparts. The bomb was set off in a wagon full of dynamite and detonated at lunch hour.

World War Two bought back the German U-Boats, which sank ships 10 miles off Brighton Beach. And, with the advent of long range bombing, the city was constantly in a state of blackout. This part of the book rang so true, as my mother had told me all the stories from the war years.

The Harlem riots of 1964; and the later Black Panther movement; when coupled with the Vietnam War protests, had the city  virtually under siege for another decade. Policemen were assassinated in the streets, and plans were made to blow up everything from the Police Station in Lower Manhattan, to all of the major department stores. The goal was to “bring Saigon home”, so that the American people would understand the atrocities of war.

Crime soared throughout the 1970’s and 80’s, fueled largely by the drug trade. But, the 1990’s saw a new kind of threat taking place, just as the city seemed to be revitalizing.  Terrorism began to rear its head with the first attempt to topple the World Trade Center. By 2001, that goal had been accomplished.

Steven Jaffe has done a superb job of laying bare the myth that New York City has always been spared the ravages of war. On the contrary, although bombs did not fall on New York, for every conflict in which she has participated, the city has paid a price. And, remarkably, the city has survived,  and is currently in a state of renaissance, with new buildings going up, while crime and violence are going down.  An engaging read by a veteran  author, this is a book which will educate even the most native of New Yorkers.  For more on Mr. Jaffe, and some of his other work, see his comments posted below.

Brooklyn's Wall Of Remembrance

It figures - I just got back from a quick visit to New York, including my old neighborhood of Kings Highway, and had no idea that there was a monument in Brooklyn honoring the heroes of 9/11. And it was only about a mile away in Coney Island!

It's a 30 x 12 foot granite wall at MCU Stadium, which is located on the site of the old Steeplechase Park, which closed in 1964, when I was almost 10 years old. The old Cyclone roller coaster, Wonder Wheel and Parachute Jump are all still standing and visable from the stadium's left and right fields. It is the current home of the Brooklyn Cyclones baseball team, an affiliate of the New York Mets and a member of the New York - Penn League. The stadium holds 7,500 people at capacity.

The monument, located on the outside wall to the stadium, depicts the faces of the 416 First Responders who gave their all on that day. I hadn't even heard of the Wall of Remembrance until I spoke with my favorite Aunt Gloria today. She hasn't seen it yet either, so I don't feel too left out. The following information is from the website Memorials in Brooklyn for Families. Their URL is as follows;

http://www.achildgrows.com/2011/09/07/911-memorials-in-nyc-for-families/

And here is the paragraph from the site which describes the memorial, which is located on Surf Avenue;

Brooklyn Wall of Remembrance

The Brooklyn Wall of Remembrance, located in Coney Island, pays tribute to the firefighters, port authority officers, New York City and New York State police officers, fire patrol, first responders and a K-9 rescue dog from Brooklyn who perished on 9/11. Created by Brooklyn-born and raised Sol Moglen, images are laser-engraved on a granite wall that also includes bronze carvings of the heroes. On September 8th, The Brooklyn Wall of Remembrance is also sponsoring the Witness to Tragedy and Recovery with Pace University, which will include a panel of photographers, videographers, psychologists and other scholars who will analyze the effects and lessons of news images on the public. Details: MCU Park-, 1904 Surf Avenue, Brooklyn, NY 11224-2410.

Apparently there are several memorials in Brooklyn, one is located at the old Staten Island Ferry pier on 69th Street. Many Brooklynites gathered there on the morning of September 11th, 2001, watching the tragedy unfold. Even some of the street signs have been changed to reflect the names of some of the victims who lived in the various neighborhoods. There are several more memorials in Brooklyn, all overshadowed by the National memorial at Ground Zero, but these local remembrances are somehow more personal, and emblematic, of the events of that day. It wasn't just a building that went down, it was a piece of everyone in all 5 boroughs, and the entire nation as well. Here is a list of the other monuments in Brooklyn;

Memorial in Coney Island
Memorial in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn
Firehouse Memorial in Park Slope, Brooklyn
Liberty Oaks 9/11 Memorial at Brooklyn Botanic Garden
FDNY Memorial in Downtown Brooklyn

These memorials are open 7 days a week, and unlike the one at Ground Zero, require no advance tickets or reservations. The only thing you need to bring is your heart.

"Young Al Capone" by William and John Balsamo

Al Capone, long portrayed as the King of Chicago, grew up in Brooklyn, New York. It was there that he made his beginning in the local crime syndicates. At the time, there were two "mobs", one Irish, known as the White Hand; and a second, up and coming "mob" of Italians, known as the "Black Hand." These two groups would battle for control of the 60 odd piers in the Borough of Brooklyn in the days before Prohibition came in. When the Volstead Act came, the piers would become less of an attraction than booze.

The authors, William and John Balsamo, have a wealth of information on the subject of both Al Capone, as well as the beginnings of Organized Crime in Brooklyn. Their father's brother was Batista Balsamo. He was born in Sicily in 1868, and although he is pictured here as a "low key gangster extraordinaire",(those are the author's words) he is considered by some to have been the first "Godfather" of Brooklyn.

Salvatore and Domenico Balsamo, Batista's sons, were the author's Grand Uncle and Father, respectively. So, these guys have some pretty good stories to relate.

August 1917 was a month so hot, that I still remember my Uncle Irving telling me about sleeping in Coney Island and sometimes on Brighton Beach. The trip was 5 cents, and the relief was priceless. 278 people and 272 horses perished that month. In my old neighborhood, people slept along Ocean Parkway, some on the benches, others on the ground. In this muggy and steamy month, and year, Al Capone would receive both the nickname, and the scars behind the ubiquitous moniker "Scarface."

It happened at the Harvard Inn on Surf Avenue in Coney Island. Al Capone walked into the club, which was owned by his boss, Frank Torrio, and noticed a group sitting near the rear doors. This caused extra work for the waitress, as well as arouse the suspicions of Capone. The only reason he could think of for their being seated so close to the entrance was that they either expected, or would be responsible for, some sort of violence. It didn't take long to happen.

Capone, always on the look out for a woman, lost no time in offending the sister of one Frank Gallucio, who jumped on Capone, trying to cut his throat. Instead, he created a legend. Scarface.

The incident caused a "sit down" to be held between the two men. "Lucky" Luciano and Frankie Yale, the first of the two "modern" mobsters, and the bosses of both parties involved, mitigated the dispute. Luciano "lent" $1,500 to Gallucio for him to pay "damages" to Capone. It was also a way of putting Gallucio in his "pocket", as the man now owed him a large sum of money. This was fortunate for Gallucio, as it guaranteed that the "bosses" would find him a lucrative position so that he could pay them back.

The author's take the reader on a very deliberate, step by step journey in the career of one of the most notorious gangsters ever known. With his bulging eye and withering stare, he was quite formidable. At least until the IRS got a hold of him.

The book follows Capone's rise from the streets of Brooklyn, to his "exile", and new home in Chicago. In Brooklyn, before Prohibition, there were three primary ways of making money in the "mob." They were gambling, loan sharking in support of the gambling, and prostitution. Al Capone was involved in each of these vices as he climbed the ladder, rung by rung, to his eventual success.

The authors follow Capone as he makes the transition from Brooklyn to Chicago. A situation occurred in which it was best than Capone leave Brooklyn for awhile, and he needed to go far. So, he "removed" himself to Chicago. And once there, the rest is, as they say, history. But this book, which chronicles Capone's early years, his roots and beginnings in Brooklyn, is a story often overlooked. You will be amazed at the mentality that drove the hoodlum of the early 20th century, and then be doubly amazed when you realize that this same mentality drives the gang wars of today!

In the words of Jean Baptiste Alphonse Karr, "The more things change, the more they remain the same." This book is proof of that assertion.