The stone here is actually diabase, not granite, but I guess the two are easy to confuse. Either that, or none of the 19th-century residents of the area wanted to live in a place called Diabaseville. The quarry is now officially a park, and is on its way to looking like one.

That's a '38 Plymouth in the driveway and a '53 Mercury on the street.

His name is Pharaoh.

The city's been trying to get rid of these often overlooked alarm boxes for years, but the courts have yet to cooperate. (Although, as we've seen, plenty of boxes have in fact been abandoned.)

This theater is packed with celebrities, although some of them are just disembodied faces floating above the crowd. Here are some closer shots; see how many people (and other creatures) you can identify: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4.

Founded in 1907, it's not to be confused with the massive synagogue of the same name in Manhattan.

Douglas Franks seems to be selling about every fourth house in Staten Island.

Thrice Admirable

The mother's face is visible in this image; you'll have to zoom in to see the baby's butt.

Perhaps Jesus and Mary were forced out here when St. Vincent's Hospital became the non-religiously affiliated Richmond University Medical Center (although there are still a fair number of crosses hanging around).