Fingers Crossed for Moody House!

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The Brooklyn Daily Eagle featured the Lady Moody House on the cover of its 1947 booklet of Gravesend history.

The moment we’ve been waiting for has come. On Tuesday, February 23, 2016, the New York City Landmarks Preservation Commission (LPC) will hold a public meeting to decide the fate of the Lady Moody – Van Sicklen House at 27 Gravesend Neck Road. The Moody House, you’ll recall, is among the 95 properties on the LPC’s backlog calendar. It has been on that calendar, under consideration, since 1966 — that’s FIFTY YEARS in limbo, folks!

At Tuesday’s meeting, the commissioners will hear summaries of the testimony given previously for all 95 properties. Several of us spoke at the public hearing on October 8, 2015 (you can hear my testimony beginning at 2:24:08), and many of you sent in wonderful messages of support. While the public is welcome to attend Tuesday’s meeting, no new testimony will be admitted. After weighing the merits of each property, the commission will consider one of three outcomes:

1. prioritizing designation for some items (by December 2016); or
2. removing from the calendar by voting not to designate; or
3. removing from the calendar by issuing a no action letter.

PLEASE keep your fingers (and other body parts) crossed that the Moody House falls into the first category. If the LPC fails to designate the house now, it won’t stand a chance of survival. We’ll never get them to reconsider this most significant of Gravesend houses once it’s tossed off the calendar. And once that house goes, so goes the heart of Gravesend. And I’ll have yet another street to avoid walking for fear of seeing what’s missing.

Stay tuned . . .


Copyright © 2016 by Joseph Ditta (webmaster@gravesendgazette.com)

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Holy Corner

There has been a house of worship at the southeast corner of Gravesend Neck Road and Van Sicklen Street since 1899, when the short-lived Gravesend Methodist Episcopal Church began holding services there in a frame chapel bought from the Gravesend Reformed Dutch Church. (That little chapel moved around a lot in its long life. Click here for the full story.) The Gravesend M. E. Church disbanded in 1914 and its building at no. 14 Neck Road sat vacant for a time. Later it housed the local boy scout troop. Eventually it was acquired by Reverend Giuseppe Greco for his Italian Pentecostal congregation, “Assemblea Christiana Radunatu Di Jesu” (Rallied Christian Assembly of Jesus). In 1937 Reverend Greco replaced the wooden chapel with the current stone sanctuary on the site, calling it (inexplicably) the Coney Island Pentecostal Church (an inscription on the building reads “Coney Island Christian Church”). Reverend Greco’s flock moved in 1979 to the vacant Gravesend Reformed Dutch Church at 121 Gravesend Neck Road, now called Trinity Tabernacle of Gravesend. The stone church at 14 Neck Road is now home to the First Korean Church of Brooklyn, a Presbyterian congregation.


Copyright © 2016 by Joseph Ditta (webmaster@gravesendgazette.com)

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Hidden in Plain Sight

Gravestones tell us a lot about the people whose graves they mark: their birth, death, age, marital status (“cherished wife”), whether or not they had children (“beloved father”), etc. They give clues, too, to the deceased’s financial status: is the marker big and impressive, and sited for maximum effect? Or is it a humble stone, tucked away in a corner, perhaps homemade? One thing most gravestones keep silent about is the skin color of the body buried below. Unless that information is chiseled for us to read (sometimes it is, but rarely) we have no way to know by which race that person identified.

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Your webmaster at the grave of Viola Jackson (c. 1892-1914), Gravesend Cemetery, October 19, 2014.

One of the loveliest stones in the Gravesend Cemetery tells its poignant tale obliquely. The tall white marker near the southwestern corner of the fence (where Village Road South and Van Sicklen Street meet) displays two female figures, one tall, one small, embracing above these lines:

SIMPLY TO THE CROSS I CLING / VIOLA JACKSON / BELOVED DAUGHTER / OF / SUSAN JACKSON / DIED SEP. 19, 1914 / AGED 22 Y’RS.

A perceptive visitor once remarked that Viola’s stone and those clustered near it are separate visually from the rest of the cemetery. He wondered if she and her neighbors were black. Racial segregation touched every aspect of American life and even left a mark on early graveyards, where sections out of sight — and out of mind — were reserved for “colored” burials. Gravesend also followed this unspoken code, and we learn from the details of her tragic death that Viola Jackson (c. 1892-1914) was indeed African-American. As the Brooklyn Daily Eagle reported on Sunday, September 13, 1914,

Viola Jackson, 22 years old, a colored domestic employed by a family at 169 Bay Twenty-eighth street, Bensonhurst, was burned in a peculiar manner last night [Saturday, September 12, 1914]. She went to the cellar to bring up a watermelon. She carried a candle. On her way upstairs she slipped and dropped the melon. She tumbled over it and the candle set fire to her dress.

The Eagle’s account reflects the widespread view of African-American activities a century ago: what else could she have been doing but “fetching” that most stereotypically black of fruits? In the New York Herald’s version (Tuesday, September 22, 1914), Viola dropped the match she used to light a stove. However it happened, as the Brooklyn Daily Standard Union added (Sunday, September 13, 1914), “When tenants of the house reached her she was aflame from head to feet.” Rushed to Coney Island Hospital for treatment, she sadly clung to life another week.

169_Bay_28th_Street_Google_2014_Aug

The site of Viola Jackson’s tragic accident, 169 Bay 28th Street (the white half of the double-house), as it looked in August 2014. Courtesy of Google Street View.


Copyright © 2016 by Joseph Ditta (webmaster@gravesendgazette.com)

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After the Races

Coney.Island.Jockey.Club.Police.Meet.recto.watermarked

Real photo postcard: “POLICE MEET” / SHEEPSHEAD BAY / RACE TRACK / By Bowman {Collection of Joseph Ditta}

The New York State Legislature banned betting in 1910, forcing Brooklyn’s three major horse racing tracks — at Gravesend, Brighton Beach, and Sheepshead Bay — to close. Once the quadrupeds were gone, the turf turned to legal sporting events, such automobile racing and stunt flying. In this real photo postcard, a high-hatted spectator at one of the Police Honor Roll Relief Fund Games (possibly this meet from 1916) smiles at us against the backdrop of the grandstand at Sheepshead Bay. Is that Hamilton B. Urglar to the left, in the black and white stripes?


Copyright © 2016 by Joseph Ditta (webmaster@gravesendgazette.com)

 

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The Curious Case of Quentin(e) Road

This is the tale of how Brooklyn’s Quentin Road was originally called Avenue Q but almost became Quentine Avenue. Bear with me.

When the Town Survey Commissioners of Kings County laid out the streets of Flatbush, Flatlands, New Utrecht, and Gravesend in 1874, in advance of the eventual expansion of the city of Brooklyn, they kept simplicity in mind:

The disadvantages of giving, over so large an area as this, ordinary street names, were so obvious, and the convenience, in the future, of a more simple and regular system was so evident, that the use of names, except in local cases, was rejected, and numerals or alphabet-letters substituted.

The streets and avenues in South Brooklyn [i.e., today’s Red Hook and Gowanus neighborhoods] being known by numbers, these were continued southerly and easterly, down to 113th street at Fort Hamilton and out to 28th avenue. Along Gravesend Bay the streets are respectively “Bay First,” “Bay Second, &c., up to “Bay 50th.” For the central and eastern section, West street [i.e., Dahill Road] was taken as a starting point, and the streets named “East First,” “East Second,” &c., up to “East 109th” ; the avenues being named “Avenue A,” &c., southerly to “Avenue Z.” In this way we avoid an endless confusion of names; we furnish a convenient key to find the relative location of a given street or avenue; and we simplify very much the future house numbering, so long a vexed problem in Brooklyn.

[Town Survey Commission of Kings County. Report of Samuel McElroy, C.E., Superintendent of Survey. Submitted, October 31st, 1874 (Brooklyn, N.Y. : Rome Brothers, 1874), 12-13. View a copy of the accompanying map in the collections of the New York Public Library.]

We have lived with that run of alphabet-avenues ever since: Avenue P, Avenue T, Avenue X, Avenue Z. Most names bestowed by the Town Survey Commission survive unaltered. Some, though, have been gussied up over time: Wouldn’t you rather live on “Albermarle Road” than plain old “Avenue A?” Or the tonier-sounding “Glenwood Road” instead of “Avenue G?” How about “Quentin Road?” That’s surely an improvement over “Avenue Q,” which sounds like a sneeze!

Deed Realty Company advertisement for 2216 "Avenue Q." [Collection of Joseph Ditta]

Deed Realty Company advertisement for “2216 Avenue Q.” [Collection of Joseph Ditta]

Real estate developers were behind most of those English-inspired name switches (“pip pip, cheerio, and all that rot”), but those of us in southern Brooklyn have heard, repeatedly, how “Avenue Q” was renamed in honor of President Theodore Roosevelt’s youngest son, Quentin Roosevelt (1897-1918), a World War I pilot shot down over France on Bastille Day, 1918. Few know that the idea to change “Avenue Q” to “Quentin Road” was afloat as early as 1910, when Quentin Roosevelt would have turned 13 years old! Back then, members of the Flatbush Board of Trade suggested giving “real” names to all the letter avenues: not only would “Avenue Q” be called “Quentin Road (after young Roosevelt),” but “Avenue R” would become “Roosevelt Road.” (For a full list of their proposed changes, see Daniel Frazer’s story at Ditmas Park Corner, which comes from a report in the Brooklyn Daily Eagle of February 16, 1910).”

One might guess that after Quentin Roosevelt’s death a proclamation went forth from the City Fathers (sound the trumpets!) that HENCEFORTH, the street formerly known as Avenue Q, in the Borough of Brooklyn, would hereby be called Quentin Road in honor of our fallen hero. But one would be wrong.

Postcard view looking north up East 21st Street to "Ave. Q," now Quentin Road. The house behind the trees is still standing at 2023 Quentin Road. [Collection of Joseph Ditta]

Postcard view looking north up East 21st Street to “Ave. Q,” now Quentin Road. The house behind the trees is still standing at 2023 Quentin Road. [Collection of Joseph Ditta]

The official switch to “Quentin Road” came about far more prosaically. On January 22, 1922, Francis P. O’Connor of Brooklyn petitioned Alderman Cox on behalf of the residents and property owners along “Avenue Q” (he lived at no. 2215) to change the name of the street between East 16th Street and its eastern end at Jamaica Bay to “Quentin Road.” The reason for the request, O’Connor explained, was that the letter “Q” was so hard to write and equally difficult to decipher that mail addressed to “Avenue Q” constantly went astray. And, to bolster his argument, he added that some of southern Brooklyn’s crosstown avenues had already dropped their alphabetical monikers for fuller names: Avenue C = Cortelyou Road; Avenue F = Farragut Road; etc. Alderman Cox referred O’Connor’s petition to the Committee on Public Thoroughfares for consideration. [1]

The Committee met on March 1, 1922 and resolved “That the name of Avenue Q, between East 16th street and its easterly terminus at Jamaica Bay, in the Borough of Brooklyn . . . is changed to and shall hereafter be known as ‘Quentine [sic] avenue [sic].'” Yes, Quentine Avenue! A simple typo, surely, but it gets better. The resolution was laid over until the Board of Aldermen next met. [2]

On March 7, 1922, a member of the Board must have noticed that the language of the proposed resolution applied only to the eastern length of Avenue Q; the section between Stillwell Avenue and East 13th Street would continue to be called by its old name, so far as anyone was concerned. So the Board recommitted the resolution for correction to the Committee on Public Thoroughfares. No one had yet caught the “Quentine Avenue” goof. [3]

Deed Realty Company advertisement for 2118 "Avenue Q" (house at right). [Collection of Joseph Ditta]

Deed Realty Company advertisement for “2118 Avenue Q” (house at right). [Collection of Joseph Ditta]

At the Committee’s next meeting, on March 14, 1922, the resolution was amended to correct the omission of the western half of Avenue Q, and switch “Quentin[e] Avenue” back to “Quentin Road”: “[T]he name of Avenue Q, running from Stillwell avenue to East 13th street and thence from East 16th street to Flatbush avenue, in the Borough of Brooklyn . . . shall hereafter be known and designated as ‘Quentine [sic] Road.'” Now the entire three-mile-plus length of the street would have one name. The wrong name, mind you, but one name. This decision, too, was laid over until the Board of Aldermen next met. [4]

On March 21, 1922, the Board voted to adopt the resolution “That the name of Avenue Q, running from Stillwell avenue to East 13th street and thence from East 16th street to Flatbush avenue, in the Borough of Brooklyn . . . shall hereafter be known and designated as ‘Quentine [sic] Road.'” Still, no one had caught the “Quentine” typo. “Avenue Q” was now officially “Quentine Road.” [5]

Finally, at the meeting of April 25, 1922, the resolution was amended “by striking out the letter ‘e’ at the end of the word ‘Quentine.'” [6]

At last! Quentin Road! Not Quentine Road. Not Quentine Avenue. (Are you dizzy yet?) Just Quentin Road, as we’ve come to know it these past 90-odd years. Note, though, that in all the preceding red tape, not once was the word “Quentin” linked to “Quentin Roosevelt,” the supposed namesake of the change.

We can only hope the residents of the former “Avenue Q” have been receiving their mail regularly since. They might not be, especially if their letter carriers have relied on the map of Brooklyn below; originally issued in 1911, it was hastily updated in August 1922 to reflect the newly renamed street. The publishers got it wrong, of course. Note the circled “Quentine Rd.” Sigh . . . .

Quentin.Road.map.1922

Detail from Map of Borough of Brooklyn (Williams Map and Guide Co., 1911; corrected August 1922; issued as a supplement to the Brooklyn Eagle Almanac for 1923. [Collection of the Library of Congress: http://www.loc.gov/item/2005625362/]

(Many thanks to Lisanne Anderson for bringing this map to my attention!)


Notes.

[1]​ Proceedings of the Board of Aldermen of the City of New York From Jan. 2 to Mar. 28, 1922, vol. 1, p. 117, January 24, 1922, No. 144, “Residents and Property Owners — Petition for Change of Avenue Q to Quentin Road, Borough of Brooklyn.”

[2]​ Ibid., p. 439, March 1, 1922, No. 144 (G. O. No. 11), “Report of the Committee on Public Thoroughfares in Favor of Adopting Resolution Changing Name of Avenue Q, Borough of Brooklyn, to Quentin Road.”

[3]​ Ibid., pp. 494-495, March 7, 1922, Int. No. 144 (G. O. No. 11), “Report of the Committee on Public Thoroughfares in Favor of Adopting Resolution Changing Name of Avenue Q, Borough of Brooklyn, to Quentin Road.”

[4]​ Ibid., pp. 519-520, March 14, 1922, No. 144 (G. O. No. 29), “Report of the Committee on Public Thoroughfares in Favor of Adopting Amended Resolution Changing Name of Avenue G [sic], Borough of Brooklyn, to Quentine [sic] Road.”

[5]​ Ibid., p. 550, March 21, 1922, G. O. 29 (Int. No. 144), “Report of the Committee on Public Thoroughfares in Favor of Adopting Amended Resolution Changing Name of Avenue Q, Borough of Brooklyn, to Quentine [sic] Road.”

[6]​ Proceedings of the Board of Aldermen of the City of New York From Jan. 2 to Mar. 28, 1922, vol. 2, p. 177, April 25, 1922, No. 477, “Resolution Amending Resolution Changing the Name of Avenue Q, Borough of Brooklyn, to ‘Quentin Road.'”

[Published copies of the Proceedings of the Board of Aldermen of the City of New York were consulted at the Patricia D. Klingenstein Library of the New-York Historical Society.]


Copyright © 2016 by Joseph Ditta (webmaster@gravesendgazette.com)

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