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Category Archive for 'Sex'

The least wrinkle crept into his brow as he remembered that this was February 2d, the time the man always called. He fished in his pocket for his purse, getting the first taste of paying out when nothing is coming in. He looked at the fat, green roll as a sick man looks at the […]

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DESCENT ON A DISORDERLY HOUSE— A FILTHY DEN— Sergeant Crafts of the 42d Precinct, with officers Pearce and Price, made a descent last night upon a disorderly house kept by a woman named Elia O’Conner at the rear of the house No. 77 York street, and arrested three women of bad repute, named Jane Morrison, Bridget […]

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Sands Street runs through lower Brooklyn like a varicose vein. It leads from the main gate of the Navy Yard to the subway stations. It is a tough, knotted street of saloons, laundries, tattoo parlors, dry cleaners, groceries, Coffee Pots, and lodgings. Its stores sell clothes, trinkets, watches, photographs, and anything else to snatch a […]

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Father Sullivan tugged at his prick and tried to relax. He was back in darkest Brooklyn; the bar was called the Casablanca Inn. The men’s room was stifling, the radiator spit on his cast, and the beers he’d been drinking since ten in the morning knifed his bladder. Because he’d fractured his skull and his […]

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There are four The Scene Is Now. Co-founder, Minnesota-native and singer Chris Nelson is the greatest city poet since Kenneth Fearing; if that sounds a bold statement, just ask Chain Gang’s Ricky Luanda, who knows. Co-founder, keyboardist and Peter Seaborg Award-winning historian Philip Dray is also from Minnesota; he doesn’t sing and very rarely solos. Guitarist […]

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In winter the ashen stucco houses shaped like Camel cigarette-boxes squat before the Bensonhurst bay-mist. Bensonhurst, low, flat, rheumatic marshland, is a realtor’s reclamation project. Many of the streets which may be compared to the booming oil cities of the Oklahoma country seem to have sprung up over night. The houses are a makeshift stage-setting […]

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Look what Pussy’s brought in,” leers a Half-Breed with a braided Queue. “Brit, by the look of him,” cries a short, freckl’d seaman in whom Stature and Pugnacity enjoy an inverse relation. “– long way from, ain’t you old Gloak?” “Who does your Wigs, Coz?” “There there, my Lads, think of the Impression we must […]

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Caz Dolowicz don’t plant tater, and don’t plant cotton, and dem dat plants ‘em is soon forgotten.

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One of America’s greatest public historians, Philip Dray has been in some unusual places but none more unusual than this: seated in an orange dinghy just launched from the Bay Ridge shore and headed for… the wine dark sea? For Staten Island? “No, no, no” the oarsman, Brian Berger, assures me. “Fort Lafayette!” All I saw […]

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In winter the ashen stucco houses shaped like Camel cigarette-boxes squat before the Bensonhurst bay-mist. Bensonhurst, low, flat, rheumatic marshland, is a realtor’s reclamation project. Many of the streets which may be compared to the booming oil cities of the Oklahoma country seem to have sprung up over night. The houses are a makeshift stage-setting […]

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