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Monthly Archive for November, 2008

by Mrs. Manicotti (ASC) It should happen more often than it does but once in a while you find brilliance when you’re not really looking for it. Take Suzanne Wasserman, Director of the Gotham History Center of New York City, for example. While the name sounded familiar, when Brian Berger first mentioned it to me, […]

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by Caz Dolowicz  Now and then are flashes in the world of business, finance, sport, art or blogging a colorful figure which comes we know not whence or how. But because it exerts enormous influence and kicks up a dust generally, and because it works in its own manner, upsetting precedent and succeeding by unguessable […]

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Harry locked his mother in the closet. Street photographer, historian and journalist Brian Berger has other ways of getting what he needs but get it he will, for the nine to fivers, the brown baggers, the strap hangers, the working stiffs, the squares but mostly for ya’ll, in New Lots, Mill Basin and Mott Haven, […]

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The boy leaps from the slippery edge of the pier out toward the scow tied up alongside it. He’s done this dozens of times over the past few years, timing the slow heave and slide of the clumsy vessel as the swells carry it toward the pier and then away from it, but this time […]

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“The institutions of this country belong to the people and we must regain control of our destiny!” Barack Obama was not the first African-American to run for the Presidency in this country. Among others, in 1972 a black woman from Brooklyn ran for the office; her name was Shirley Chisholm and she was from Bed-Stuy. […]

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From the pasture to the pulpit. The Sisters at the orphanage said “God moves in mysterious ways” but who, pray tell, does the moving for God? Back when I was living in Sunset Park and studying photography at the Art Students League, I worked part time for a Greek guy my old man knew from […]

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Red Hook dog about to jump off. It’s been a few years now since the canines of Gowanus roamed free but some days we miss them still. See mama bear and her three cubs lope down 3rd Avenue on a cold Autumn night; see those dark eyes watching you from the quiet of an empty […]

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