The years have not been kind to this monument honoring area residents who died in World War I, nor to the man who created it. Its two bronze plaques bearing the names of the fallen soldiers were stolen in 1970, and then, in 2000, a couple of thieves made off with the half-ton statue that stood at the center of the memorial. Police later found parts of the statue, which had been cut into hundreds of pieces, in two different Brooklyn scrap yards.
This is the home base of the coordinator of Shomrim, a local Jewish civilian patrol group. We recently learned about a rift within the Lubavitch community of Crown Heights; Shomrim itself is engaged in a feud (an often petty-sounding rivalry with some overtones of that same messianic dispute) with a similar neighborhood patrol group known as Shmira.
This inclusive annual community get-together was first held in the aftermath of the 1991 riots.
They may look like they're just lazing about, but these hard-working chefs apparently managed to crank out several thousand (kosher) hot dogs and hamburgers for the hungry picnickers of Crown Heights.
Shadowing us once again is the Bay Ridge Branch, running across the top of the embankment in the background.
trying to get a shot of the Franklin Avenue Shuttle passing beneath me.
The 1893 master plan for the Brooklyn Museum, then known as the Brooklyn Institute of Arts and Sciences, called for a far larger structure than was ever built. Intended to be more than a museum, it was designed to house academic and research facilities for a broad array of disciplines. But when Brooklyn joined New York City in 1898, the Institute suddenly had to compete for city funds with established museums in Manhattan; the money promised by the erstwhile City of Brooklyn was no longer available, and construction was scaled back considerably. It wasn't until the 1930s that the Institute began narrowing its focus to the arts, starting its transition to the Brooklyn Museum that we know today.
this company exists for the sole purpose of pissing people off.
As in this case, we have two different eras of traffic sign bureaucracy represented here. Both signs, however, were probably made at the same place: the country's largest municipal sign shop.
That's apparently the name of this car — undergoing some repair work at the moment — whose hood and trunk are clad in images of women in varying states of undress, ranging from almost nude to nude.
Quite popular in certain parts of the city, it's apparently "not the best choice if you live in an upscale area where people don't fart."
The tale of Samuel Rubel exemplifies the classic American rags-to-riches story: Penniless Latvian immigrant arrives on the streets of New York; builds multi-million-dollar coal-and-ice empire from meager beginnings as a door-to-door peddler; proposes to employee, then later breaks off the engagement; she sues him; he has her arrested on charges of forgery and grand larceny; they later get married, have two kids, and live happily ever after.
A lightly traveled thoroughfare — at street level, anyway
Now running side by side with the skeleton of the Fulton Street Elevated
Trying to cash in on the controversial basketball arena being built about a mile and a half down Atlantic Avenue
This is the only station on the Atlantic Avenue Viaduct, which just underwent a well-photographed rehabilitation.
Albert Einstein was a patient at this hospital (which is now an apartment building) in 1948; he had his abdominal aorta reinforced to ward off the rupture of an aneurysm that was discovered by his surgeon. After recovering from this procedure, he lived another 6+ years before the aneurysm finally burst in 1955. He refused further surgery at that point, saying "It is tasteless to prolong life artificially. I have done my share; it is time to go."
Einstein had specifically requested that no memorial service be held for him, and that his body be cremated and the ashes scattered without ceremony in a secret location. His wishes were mostly followed, except for that one guy who removed his brain and kept it for the next four decades.
Now occupied by small businesses, this was once part of the Bedford Brewery complex.
Not to be confused with subway-station-adjacent, mind you.
(That cute little two-car operation is the Franklin Avenue Shuttle.)
Like several others in the city, this armory currently serves as a homeless shelter.
