My Life In Brooklyn

A couple weeks ago I took some pictures of this building located on the southeast corner of Flatbush and Cortelyou, which pretty clearly indicates it was once a theatre.  It’s been nagging at me for a couple of weeks now, but today when I was looking through my postcards for something else I stumbled upon the vintage Rialto Theatre card.  What was amazing, to me at least, is I had by chance captured almost the exact same camera position.  This generally never happens to me, especially when I am actually trying to do this.

The “before” was published between 1916 - 1930; the “after” was photographed 28 September 2006.

Cinema Treasures has this on it.

Upon moving to Prospect-Lefferts in 2002, one of the first things I did was head to the Dutch Reform Church on the corner of Church and Flatbush Avenues.  We had driven past the church many times in our Brooklyn house hunt, though what intrigued me most was the cemetery.  If you have any historical interest in the area, it is well worth a walk through.  Some of the tombstones are in remarkably good condition, considering the age.  I spent a sunny afternoon creating a photographic inventory of stones, as I often do in cemeteries. Walking among the monuments you will see many familiar Brooklyn names, descendants of the early Dutch settlers.

One interesting stone is that of Richard Alsope [sic] of Middletown, Conn. “He came to Flatbush in August 1815, to visit his sister, the wife of Mr. Riley. He had retired on a certain day to his room in the house now occupied by Mrs. Schoonmaker, and was subsequently found dead sitting in a chair by the window. It is presumed he had been struck with apoplexy. The tomb-stone which marks the place where his remains lie interred, bears the following inscription: — In memory of Richard Alsop, Esq., of Middletown, Conn. Distinguished by genius and poetical talents, respected for integrity, and beloved for his amiable simplicity of character. He died suddenly, when on visit to this place, on the 20th of August, 1815, aged fifty-four years.” [from History of the Town of Flatbush, Thomas M. Strong, D.D., 1842.]

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On Fenimore Street, which currently runs east beginning at Flatbush, the numbering of the buildings begins in the 60s. This does not match the numbering of, say, Rutland Road nor that of Hawthorne, parallel streets both north and south of Fenimore.

I have been suspicious of the building numbers since moving here four plus years ago. Almost directly across the intersection of Flatbush and Fenimore is an “alley” (currently providing access to a large parking lot) which could well have been a street at some point, or a part of it at least. I should modify this to read “was” as alley, because as I write, new construction is ongoing.

After spending some time looking at the wonderful resource we have in the Brooklyn Eagle archives online (thank you BPL!) I was able to find some references providing evidence that Fenimore Street once extended all the way to Ocean Avenue. This would certainly account for the missing house numbers.

I’ve reproduced excerpts from three of the references I found.  It appears that in 1880 Fenimore Street was, indeed, intersecting with Ocean Avenue. From the 1897 article, it suggests the proposed extension of Fenimore may have largely been the building of a bridge over the Brighton Beach line (where the Q and B trains now run).  Unfortunately I wasn’t able to find any follow-up information on this in terms of decisions, the online archives end in 1902.  The third source, 1900, shows Fenimore and Ocean continue to intersect.  It is interesting, the resolution will likely be in the form of an afternoon at the Library — unless anyone reading this has the intel.

Source 1: Brooklyn Eagle, 24 Apr 1880, Page 4. A Sheriff’s Sale (public auction of property) ” … that lot or parcel of land, situate on the east side of Ocean avenue in the Town of Flatbush, in the County of Kings and State of New York, bounded and described as follows, viz: Beginning at a point distant three hundred and sixty feet and thirty eight one-hundredths of a foot northerly from the north east corner of Fenimore street and Ocean avenue …”

Source 2: Brooklyn Eagle, 28 Nov 1897, Page 10, Proposed New Streets. “… Another proceeding of considerable interest to many Flatbush people is the opening of Fenimore street from Flatbush to Ocean avenues. This proceeding has ben [sic] before the commissioners [named] for several months. The commissioners filed their reports on the 3d November, 1897, allowing for lands taken $11,016.61, for buildings and improvements $1,601 and a residue lot abandoned but the owner, one Henry C. Ryan, for $1,928.93. This street also crosses the railroad of the Brighton Beach Company, but the latter corporation did not see fit to appear before the commissioners, nor to make any claim for damages either to their land or improvements to be affected by the street opening. The commissioners felt justified in assuming that the railroad company placed no particular value upon an old rickety shed, which encroached upon the line of the improvement and, therefore, awarded the corporation $1; they also failed to make any substantial award on account of the land of the railroad company involved in the proceedings, inasmuch as the street would be simply opened across the land of the railroad and their right to its use would not be affected by the easement of the general public across the railroad tracks. …”

Source 3: Brooklyn Eagle, 15 Aug 1900, Page 14. ” … Sidewalks were ordered built on the east side of Ocean avenue between Flatbush avenue and Lincoln road, in front of lots 4 to 8, inclusive, 12, 13, 14, and 15, block 178; on the east side of Ocean avenue, between Fenimore street and Lincoln road, in front of lots 5 and 11, block 181; on the east side of Ocean avenue, between Fenimore street and Fort Hamilton avenue …” 

Yesterday, after the rain stopped, we drove over to Holy Cross Cemetery to have a look.  It is a scant mile from my house to the cemetery gates, and I’ve thought about exploring it a bit, but in the past I have received some general “warnings” about safety issues.  So we drove over.

While Holy Cross is not Green-wood by any means, in terms of size and grandeur, it is nonetheless well cared for, neatly manicured and I actually thought the people working there were way nicer than those I have interacted with at Green-Wood.  I felt perfectly safe wandering about and plan to head back on a weekday before the really cold weather hits.

[Note: this is a repost from my former blog, Dec. 2005]

Llewellyn and I were driving around Brooklyn one bright sunny afternoon last December.  I had promised an online acquaintance some photos of the former residences of his ancestor, one whom had started here in Brooklyn and ended up in Holyoke, MA, my hometown.

En route we stopped in Green-Wood Cemetery and though it was a very cold day, there was no snow.  So we walked around a bit.  I had it in mind to further enhance with a few photographs my online version of  the 1878 publication “New York and Its Institutions” – there are a few pages in this book devoted to Green-wood Cemetery.  Upon arrival, the sheer size of the cemetery was overwhelming, and not having a map with us, Llewellyn and I blindly wandered around, snapping pics here and there, ultimately unable to locate the monuments we has set out to find.

Just as we were preparing to head home, we encountered the tombstone seen in the photo below.  Llew took the photo, a grab shot, because it was interesting and unusual to see bear sculpture on top of what appears to be a relatively new stone.

In my ramblings through cemeteries I’ve seen lots of unusual tombstones, but this was the first bear I had ever seen, and it made me wonder why.  The deceased — named BEARD — made me think about pronunciation, and whether this name was pronounced (bîrd) (as in male facial hair) or if it was in fact pronounced (bârd) which is a Scottish name spelled BAIRD that is seen often enough.

The fact this animal sculpture is a BEAR and the decedent’s name being BEARD made my mind wander to many possibilities, including the frequent misspellings of names that have historically occurred as people were processed at Castle Garden and Ellis Island.  So in my mind I had it sorted out to represent this poor fellow who should have had the name BAIRD or perhaps it really was BEARD but should have been pronounced like BAIRD – and all his life had suffered with being called by the word which represents hair on a man’s chin, cheeks, and throat, BEARD.  I saw this large bear as a possible representation of an eternal clue to how his name should be pronounced.

Until today, that is.  This afternoon while editing some biographies from an 1888 publication, I came across William Holbrook Beard, the very person buried in this grave.  Beard was born in 1825 in Ohio, lived in Buffalo, trained in Europe and eventually resided in New York City when he soon was invited to join the National Academy of Design and became a noted painter and illustrator.  Beard died in 1900 and had no monument of any kind until October 2002.  To quote the bio: “He has painted some genre and allegorical pictures, but of late years has devoted himself almost exclusively to the painting of animals, whose habits he humanizes in a pleasing, satirical manner with much success.”  Bears apparently were among his favorite subjects and some of his paintings have cute and even whimsical titles such as: “Bears on a Bender” and “Bear-Dance.”

So while I silently laugh at my indulgent fantasy regarding the name and the sculpture on the monument, it is another reminder that — when it comes to history — you cannot make any assumptions.

You can see a couple of Beard’s pieces at AllPosters.com. I’d love to see “Bears on a Bender” but no luck in finding it