In 1909, the Houston Hippodrome, a Yiddish vaudeville house and movie theater, opened on this site in a former church (and former boxing venue). The Hippodrome was the site of a fatal panic in 1913, in which two moviegoers were trampled to death and many others injured amid a frenzied crowd trying to flee the theater after a boy in the balcony yelled "Fire!" when a small blaze, promptly extinguished, broke out in the projection booth. Madness quickly overtook the audience, whom the New-York Tribune described as being largely composed of "Italians, Russians and other excitable persons." The paper went on report:

Men were the first to gain the aisles, sweeping women and children to one side in their headlong rush for safety. In their hysterical haste they stumbled and fell down the steps, only to be fallen upon by those in the rear, who shouted wildly for help. In a moment the stairways were blocked with fighting, tearing men and women.

Seeing the majority of those in the balcony making for the main entrance, the rest of the audience started for the side exits. They did not wait for these doors to be opened by the special officers on guard, but butted their way toward them, almost ripping the doors from their hinges. When they reached the fire escape landing they fell to their knees and were caught in the crush behind them. . . .

The shrieks of the men, women and children buried underneath in the mass of humanity could be heard for blocks around. It was feared that most of those, numbering almost five hundred, piled up in the heap had been killed.

Five minutes after the accident happened Battalion Chief John Kelly, with Truck Company 9, and Engine Company 25 arrived. Kelly got his men to push the crowd back. This, however, was impossible. Then he ordered his men to jump over the crowd and throw them back. This was effective. In ten minutes Kelly managed to get most of the panicstricken persons back into the theatre. Then the work of removing the dead and injured began.

In the aftermath of this incident, the city passed legislation introducing new safety regulations for theaters. The Hippodrome was renovated accordingly and continued to operate under different names for a few more years. Some sources I've found say the building was demolished in 1917 and replaced by the Sunshine Theater, while others say it was left standing and converted into the Sunshine that same year.

The Sunshine went out of business in the 1940s, and the building spent the next half-century as a hardware warehouse. It was then briefly used as a concert space before reopening in 2001 as the Sunshine Cinema, an art-house theater "with five screens, 980 seats, two Japanese rock gardens, $1.75 espressos, $2.25 Goobers and a top-story gangplank that offers vista views of Houston Street."

Looking down from the elevated Culver Line (F train) at the densely populated grounds of Washington Cemetery

Mighty Morphin Power Rangers and Backfat, at an ice cream distributor on McDonald Avenue

...when you can have your "shabbath knifes" sharpened while getting your payos cut.

It's been a while since we've seen one of these.

This unique trash can backstop looks to have been relocated from a subway entrance or storage yard somewhere in the city to the sidewalk outside this print shop in the Borough Park/Dyker Heights borderlands.

There are two nearby subway lines: the West End Line (D train), which is elevated, and the Sea Beach Line (N train), which runs in an open cut with station houses at its entrances. Lampposts and railings like these, however, are generally only found at simple sidewalk entrances to underground stations, so it would seem they must have come from somewhere more exotic.

(Did you know? The design of a station's lampposts and railings can tell you a little about its history.)

(And if you've ever wondered why some subway globe lamps are green and others are red, don't worry: there's a logical system behind it all. Sort of.)

Signs taped to the windows of this office seem to indicate that the space is shared by a funeral home and a general contractor. I'd have to imagine this desk sits on the contracting side of things.

This massive structure contains two churches, one stacked atop the other. The lower church opened in 1909; the upper one wasn't completed until 1928.

A former National Guard arsenal. Here's a shot of this impregnable citadel nearing completion in 1926.

An entrance to the erstwhile arsenal seen in the previous photo

The Brooklyn Army Terminal, designed by Cass Gilbert, the architect of the Woolworth Building, was completed in 1919. The larger of its two main buildings features this stunning, formerly skylight-enclosed atrium. (Here's a beautiful shot of the atrium taken in 1949 by Andreas Feininger.) The reddish bridge-looking thing spanning the opening between the two sides of the building is part of an old traveling overhead crane that was used to load and unload the trains that once pulled in here; the staggered balcony arrangement provided the crane unobstructed vertical access to each floor. (Compare to the Hasidic Sukkot balconies we've seen previously.)

Currently redeveloped for commercial and light industrial use, the Brooklyn Army Terminal (formerly known as the Brooklyn Army Base) was supposedly the country's largest military supply base during World War II. I've read several claims that it was the point of departure for some 80% of American troops and supplies during the war, but I don't think that's true. The highest estimate of the number of WWII soldiers shipped out from here that I've seen is 3.2 million, and, as best I can tell, some 7.3 million soldiers in total were deployed overseas during the war. (The corresponding numbers for supplies are 37 million measurement tons and 127 million measurement tons.) So 80% seems like a highly exaggerated figure, but it's still pretty amazing to think that almost half of the US soldiers sent overseas during the war may have passed through this facility.

But let's do away with the uncertainties. There is one undisputed, and quite well documented, fact that I can share with you on the subject of troop deployments from the Brooklyn Army Base: On a late September day in 1958, a Private Elvis Aron (or was it Aaron? OK, that part's kind of disputed) Presley arrived here by train en route to an Army installation in Friedberg, Germany, where he would serve for the next 17 months before returning to civilian life.

They appear to have been sitting here in Building B since at least 1999, boasting a sporty silver-with-blue-stripes paint job for much of that time. According to the Daily News, one of the cars "was going to be turned into a restaurant that never actually opened." That's an interesting hook — a restaurant so exclusive, it's never open.

So reads some text painted on the column across the way (closer look). According a historical exhibit in the lobby here at Building B, these are Army Post Office destinations. Other destination names I spotted on columns in the atrium: the Balkans, Greece, Portugal, the Azores, and India.

Ferry service at the Brooklyn Army Terminal's 58th Street pier

Booze cruiser with silly fake paddlewheel

Shore Road Drive in Bay Ridge

Leif Ericson Park is named in honor of the large Scandinavian population that once existed here in Bay Ridge. Within the park stands this "replica of a rune stone found in Tune, Norway", featuring a plaque that depicts a heroic-looking character at sea and reads "Leiv Eiriksson — Discovered America Year 1000". This monument was dedicated by Crown Prince Olav (later King Olav V) of Norway during a visit to the US in 1939.

From the pages of The New Yorker:

. . . the Antenna King showed up with his wife, Rosanne Langan, the Antenna Queen. He is tall and gregarious, with a shock of silver hair and the stiff knees that come from climbing up to thousands of New York City roofs. As he began to hold forth, the Queen nodded silently, with an air that suggested that she had heard the King’s broadcasts on many occasions and understands that the signal is still strong. "The story of the Antenna King is an interesting story of how a man started a business and good fortune came along," the Antenna King said. . . .

Under construction, as always

But do they have meat plans?

of unique school crossing signs

As "The Newspaper of Torah Jewry", Hamodia's slogan is:

A newspaper upstanding enough to bring home [e.g., photos of women — or even their shoes, apparently — are forbidden] and outstanding enough to bring anywhere

Close-ups here

From its storefront tenants to its architectural frills, this building is all about appearances.

For a deeper appreciation of this ridiculous name, check out the former occupant of this storefront.

Opened in 1897, this warehouse complex was once much slimmer. It was then expanded in stages, reaching its current size by 1915.

Now the Brooklyn Academy of Music's Harvey Theater, the Majestic "was built in 1904 as a legitimate theater, and spent many years as a movie theater and church before being abandoned in 1968. It was reclaimed by the Brooklyn Academy [in 1987], and reopened [that] October after a seven-month, $5 million renovation that intentionally left plaster exposed, paint crumbling and the theater in a state of studied ruin."

Opened in 1919, this building operated as a theater of one sort or another for almost four decades. After a stint as a bowling alley, it was converted into manufacturing space sometime in the 1960s. Recently renovated, it is now home to BRIC House, "a multidisciplinary arts and media center designed to support artists and engage the public", and UrbanGlass, an organization "committed to furthering the use of glass as a creative medium." You can see some interior photos here.

Opened in 1928, the former Paramount Theatre currently serves as the Arnold and Marie Schwartz Athletic Center at Long Island University's Brooklyn campus. Check out this breathtaking shot of the gymnasium, and then take this fantastic photo tour through the whole building.

Originally the lobby of the Paramount Theatre

Interior photos here

This massive sculpture at Long Island University's Brooklyn campus was inspired by the Soldiers' and Sailors' Arch at Grand Army Plaza.

on the grounds of Long Island University's Brooklyn campus

When it was built in 1894, this church had a greater seating capacity than any other in Brooklyn or New York City. (At the time, NYC comprised only Manhattan and part of the Bronx.) It was rebuilt after being devastated by a fire in 1917, and was damaged once again by a blaze in 2010. Short on funds to repair the interior and replace the roof, church officials are now looking for someone to redevelop the site into a mixed-use facility that would still provide a place of worship for the congregation. Ideally, the church would like the existing structure maintained and built on top of rather than demolished, but that may prove unfeasible.

This building was erected in 1903; its predecessor, completed in 1823, was the first Catholic church on Long Island, and became the cathedral of the Diocese of Brooklyn when the diocese was established in 1853. St. James was the sole seat of the bishop for the next 160 years, although its status was downgraded to pro-cathedral from 1896 to 1972 in anticipation of the construction of a colossal cathedral that never ended up being built. Just last year, however, the much larger St. Joseph's in Prospect Heights, capable of hosting the big events that St. James can't, was named co-cathedral of the diocese. (Prior to this designation, major diocesan gatherings were traditionally held at the gigantic Basilica of Our Lady of Perpetual Help in Sunset Park.)

Pope John Paul II visited St. James in 1979, and, according to a plaque on the front of the church, "He walked in our midst, touched our hearts and despite torrential rain, he brought the sun".

Opened in 1848, today's Borough Hall was originally Brooklyn's City Hall, serving in that capacity for the 50 years preceding Brooklyn's incorporation into New York City.

There are numerous bands and cables tied to the columns of Borough Hall. (They're partially visible in the previous photo as well, if you look closely.) At first, I assumed they must be serving some important structural function, but it looks like they're actually just there to hold up big colorful banners from time to time.

The center of Brooklyn's bureaucracy, completed in 1926, is now being partially converted into commercial space. A candy store and a Sephora have already opened here; a yoga studio and a Neiman Marcus are on the way.