This memorial must have been installed just a couple of years ago, when the beloved Williamsburgh Savings Bank Tower lost its long-held title of Tallest Building in Brooklyn.
The Altar to Liberty, a 1919 commemoration of the Battle of Long Island, stands on Battle Hill, an American defensive position taken by the British as the first major conflict of the Revolutionary War unfurled across Brooklyn. The Roman goddess Minerva stands upon the altar, facing the Statue of Liberty across the harbor. A few years ago, there was a controversial development being proposed just outside the cemetery, and, to ensure that the new four-story buildings would not obstruct the line of sight between the two ladies, a worker at the site was hoisted 40 feet into the air in a cherry picker while cemetery officials looked on from Minerva's side. They were still able to see Miss Liberty above the worker's head, and so they gave their approval to the developer's plans.
is the summit of the hill in the background, standing 220 feet above sea level and occupied by the mausoleum of Philip and Latifee Kiamie.
Mr. Stoiber's headstone, in the foreskin foreground, is, especially when viewed from behind, perhaps the most priapic monument in the entire cemetery, a place that certainly suffers no shortage of priapicity!
In 1863, this modestly sized section of Green-Wood was donated for soldiers who died in the Civil War. But many others who served are buried throughout the cemetery's 478 acres. Thanks to an extraordinary volunteer effort over the past decade, almost 5,000 Civil War veterans and counting (far more than the few hundred that were expected) have been identified in Green-Wood, including some Confederates, and some 2,000 new markers (like the ones you see here) have been obtained from the Department of Veterans Affairs for those whose gravestones were lost (often vanished into the ground over time) or damaged or perhaps never existed in the first place.
Brooklyn's first Civil War casualty, 12-year-old Clarence MacKenzie was accidentally shot and killed by another member of his regiment during a drill. He was originally buried elsewhere in the cemetery, but was then relocated to the Soldiers’ Lot (visible at back in the previous picture), where his grave was marked with this monument.
After lying in an unmarked grave for more than a century, the painter of "The Bulls and Bears in the Market" was spectacularly memorialized in 2002.
Neither he nor his wife nor his daughter are buried here? Thanks to this memorial, I just learned a new word.
I believe a new community mausoleum is going to be built here.
The former Grand Sachem of the notoriously corrupt Tammany Hall, Tweed was convicted of forgery and larceny in 1873. It was later estimated that he and his Tammany co-conspirators had stolen somewhere between 400 and 800 million of today's dollars from the city's taxpayers.
Green-Wood recently purchased this landmarked florist's greenhouse, which has stood across the street since 1895, with the intention of turning it into a visitor center.
Now in color. If you didn't see it the first time, check out this great interview with him.
Wool, hats, and novelties — how the Beast of Revelation pays the rent
This auto-garage-turned-bar takes its name from a pair of long-deceased chicken joints whose eye-catching ads, painted on the sides of local buildings, proved far more enduring than the restaurants themselves. One of those ads looms above the bar on a neighboring wall. Two other ads, one of which spanned almost the entire length of an apartment building, were lost early last year when the building, known by some as the Hot Bird Building, was sacrificed to the gods of Atlantic Yards.
The local chapter of this secret "fraternal" organization for (graying) black women has owned this Stuyvesant Heights mansion since 1945.
The disciples of Sri Chinmoy run several wonderfully named business here in Jamaica Hills, including The Garland of Divinity's Love, a flower shop next door. The stores are generally painted baby blue with white accents; this laundromat also features soul-birds on its sign.
Here we are, back at the Self-Transcendence 3100. It's Day 11, and Grahak is now the front-runner, averaging over 70 miles per day! You can once again just make out the shape of a bouncy ball in Atmavir's right hand.
On display outside 75 and 77 State Street in Brooklyn is a collection of punnily named footwear-based flower planters made from discarded objects. (Others include a rollerblade with a piece of wood: "Skate Board"; a sneaker with a small adding machine printer: "Foot Print"; and a pair of boots with a laptop: "Re-boot".) They're the work of Nat Hendricks, the buildings' owner. Nat told me that, much to his dismay, some Type A New Yorkers keep coming by and tying all the shoelaces.
He's talking with Sherry the human and Saturday the dog, having just fetched that water and Coke for me. His block was voted the greenest commercial block in Brooklyn in 2007 and 2010, and is a semifinalist in the 2012 competition; you can see why (and you can also see the shoe planters on the doors and walls).
Part of this multi-gate message (and not related to the artwork in the previous photo, as far as I know)
This now mostly vacant building was, until 2006, the headquarters of the Transit Authority. It was here, beneath street level, that the mysterious money trains would drop off the cash they had collected from token booths throughout the subway system.
This map, mounted on the side of the Transportation Building, lists every transportation worker who served in the war, with stars showing the locations where 24 of them died.
The building in the center, behind the giant blue thingies, is currently owned by NYU-Poly (and known as the Wunsch Building), but it once housed what is now the oldest continuing black congregation in Brooklyn, and was a stop on the Underground Railroad.
Leading to the same house, the doors are labeled "Foul Weather" and "Fair Weather".
Unlike some of its longer-lasting comrades, this mezuzah looks to have survived only one or two new coats of paint before being removed. I used to live in an apartment with a rounded, elongated bump on the doorpost — a mezuzah buried under about a dozen tenants' worth of repaintings.
I like to imagine her serving as a coat rack the rest of the year.
The jellyfish has firmly established itself in the city's industrial ecosystem.
