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Category Archive for 'Prospect Heights'

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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Hi. My name if Rutherford B. Trace, and I’m the new editor of this weblog. I beg pardon from the ongoing series Frederick Douglass In Brooklyn, which I will soon continue, to implore, beseech, encourage and even— in some cases— command all ya’ll who can get near Grand Army Plaza Tuesday June 1 to see the Internets [...]

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Boys, 9 and 10 Years Old, Are Arrested as Burglars
Police Accuse Them of Stealing Jewelry Worth $500 From Brooklyn Dwelling
Two of the youngest burglary suspects wih whom Broolyn police ever had to deal were arrested yesterday and charged with entering the home of John Bliss, at 935 St. Mark’s Avenue.
The first prisoner charged with the [...]

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Sometimes Hoover’s floating animosity tended to attach itself to one of his victims. Increasingly alarmed that Eleanor Roosevelt’s concern for the Negro was likely to churn up social disorder, Hoover tiptoed into the subject with FDR. “The president says the old bitch is going through the change of life and we’ll just have to put [...]

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Police Files, October 1958
On the morning of Tuesday, September 8th, the lonely strip of county road lying between Sauk City and Prairie du Sac, Wisconsin, was visited by death. Bloody, brutal and wanton death at the hand of a man with insane, murderous greed in his heart.

Mimi Lipson, Food and Beverage (2009)
Pinky’s New York [...]

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If I could be you and you could be me for just one hour; if we could find a way to get inside each other’s mind; if you could see me through your eyes instead of your ego; I believe you’d be surprised to see that you’d been blind.
Walk a mile in my shoes, walk [...]

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(Or, The Education, & Dinner, of Caz Dolowicz)
Street Dude: What you doing on our turf, punk?
Caz Dolowicz: I got a rainbow for Smokey.
Dude: Give it to me.
Caz: You Smokey, man?
Dude: Gimme it!
Caz: If you ain’t Smokey, it’s not your motherfucking rainbow.
Dude: Motherfucker I said gimme the rainbow.
Caz: It’s from Willis Still Sunsweet, in Dallas (ll).
Dude: [...]

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People ask Caz, you old, what’s really Brooklyn? Usually I tell ‘em to get out of my grill and see for themselves. Brooklyn is not like most people say. So-called “Cobble Hill” and Canarsie? The twain rarely meet, people, not really. Happily, I’ve gotten around some since I popped out Ma Dolowicz’s Sands Street boarding [...]

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With a headline nod to Jesus Colon, the pioneering Puerto Rican journalist (check out  A Puerto Rican In New York if not familar with his work), and hearty mondongo thanks to reader Glenmore Snediker for the photos (“taken somewhere in East New York,” he says), WWIB rouses itself this morning with strong coffee and the [...]

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Speaking of mounts and the line, had horses once been about two feet tall, in the dim past? Was this another fantasy proffered by lofty science? Were more scientists slightly perverted? Were chemists considered scientists? How so? What horses won the 1858 Kentucky Derby? The Preakness? The Belmont Stakes? Do horse players always die broke? [...]

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