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Category Archive for 'Bay Ridge'

—inbound traffic on the Gowanus Exp… favor, send your mouth on a vaca… and rain, the present tem… no tiene nada — William Gaddis, from J.R. (1975) *** Jim Knipfel is also with William Gaddis

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Gas Used in Suicide Explodes, Injuring 3 Searchers Light Match Before Power Man Is Found Dead William Henderson, thirty-nine years old, a power man employed by the New York Telephone Company, was found dead yesterday in a gas filled bungalow on Roosevelt Walk, Rockaway Point, Queens. Three friends who entered the dwelling to search for […]

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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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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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From the get-go, Birdland became one of his favorite haunts. He always went to the 52nd Street club alone. He’d pay two dollars to the cashier at the bottom of the stairs after hassling with a midget-spade about his proof of age, and stand at the bar or sit in the gallery and drink Cutty […]

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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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Believe it or not, it was my bike. This one I had bought at Madison Square Garden, at the end of a six-day race. It had been made in Chemnitz, Bohemia and the six-day rider who owned it was a German, I believe. What distinguished it from other racing bikes was that the upper bar […]

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I don’t think Faulkner is worth the antebellum South, and I would rather not have had Kafka at the proce of twentieth-century European carnage. But in trying to locate contemporary American writing I look at the thirties, that supposedly meager decade if misfired artistic energy and of duped intellectuals and bad proletarian novels, and I […]

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THE MARTYR (Indicative of the Passion of the People on the 15th Day of April, 1865) Good Friday was the day Of the prodigy and crime, When they killed him in his pity, When they killed him in his prime Of clemency and calm— When with yearning he was filled To redeem the evil-willed, And, […]

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