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Paying Up: Why Landlords Get Away With Mounds of Housing Violations

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Flatbush Gardens, where landlord David Bistricer has over 8,000 outstanding housing code violations. (Richard Nieva/The Brooklyn Ink)

Flatbush Gardens, where landlord David Bistricer has over 8,000 outstanding housing code violations. (Richard Nieva/The Brooklyn Ink)

By Richard Nieva

John Gillick is engaged to be married. When asked if he would stay at his apartment in the Flatbush Gardens complex in East Flatbush after the big July wedding, his initial response was a simple laugh.

“This is not the kind of place I’d want to raise a daughter,” he said.

Gillick comes home to his fifth floor apartment, at 1352 New York Ave., only occasionally nowadays. The 29-year-old patent lawyer spends most nights sleeping in his office in downtown Manhattan, relegating his Brooklyn apartment to the realm of storage space.

When he does come home, he enters the building with a magnetic key he must swipe several times before the door opens. The smell of marijuana smoke lingers in the hallway as he gets on the elevator. To get the elevator to work, he must pull the door shut from the inside using plastic ties attached to the window grate. The jutting sound of the elevator cart hitting the plastic ties can be heard as it travels to the fifth floor.

Gillick’s plight—which he insists is tame—is a common one for Brooklyn renters. On a recent watch list of the city’s worst landlords released by the office of the New York City Public Advocate Bill de Blasio, apartment buildings in the borough of Kings appeared 154 times, comprising over 40 percent of the entire list. Buildings owned by Gillick’s own landlord, David Bistricer, appeared 32 times alone.

Bistricer’s over 8,000 building code violations—including the non-functioning elevator door—suggests a flaw in the system: How can a slumlord get away with so many violations for so long?

According to de Blasio, the problem is an administrative one. When a landlord receives a violation, there are no strict enforcement policies for letting them pile up unaddressed. “We need to change the way violations are issued,” said de Blasio. “So they are more akin to parking tickets: you get a fine for a violation, and if you don’t fix the problem, the fine goes up.”

This leads to cases like Bistricer’s—with his thousands of infractions, including one I-class violation. These are violations in which there is a court order from a judge to correct them.

The other types of infractions are listed as A, B, or C class, and have stringent deadlines of their own—ranging from 90 days for an A class, 30 days for a B class, and 24 hours for the “immediately hazardous” C class.

Still, with no way of enforcing landlord compliance short of housing court proceedings, tenants like Gillick have little faith in the system. He described writing letters to Flatbush Garden management when he first moved in, asking for little things to be fixed. “And to be honest,” he said. “It was stuff I knew I wasn’t going to get.”

A Complex and Troubled Complex

Gillick’s relationship with Flatbush Gardens started a month and a half before he even moved in his first piece of furniture in 2008. Looking for a place in the borough after leaving his previous apartment in Brooklyn Heights (the two buildings are like apples and oranges, he said), he found Flatbush Gardens. But to his chagrin, he found no reviews online of the newly renovated complex.

Its glossy Web site featured smiling, young, interracial couples hand in hand with the Brooklyn Bridge in the backdrop. The marketing was simple: a haven for young urban professionals. Gillick—a Tampa, FL, native who prefers his bike to the subway—fits this description.

He started a blog to document his experience there—more for future renters than for himself. “It was the story that I wanted told when I was looking at the place,” he said.

And recently, he’s had to tell some difficult stories in his blog.

Two men were murdered in two weeks this year in late September and early October. Akeem Stephenson, 18, was gunned down after he refused to join the Crips, and Kenroy Smith, a 27-year-old father, was shot in the back of the head, due to mistaken identity, according to the New York Daily News.

Bistricer still hasn’t left the news. The landlord has a lease with the city, in which it pays him over $10 million a year for two Brooklyn courthouse buildings—all despite the almost $150,000 in violations he owes the city.

In November, folding to public pressure from the Public Advocate’s office, Bistricer paid off the $150,000 debt, though the building violations remain uncorrected. “We can use city business to compel landlords to do the right thing,” de Blasio said.

The controversies continue to pile up for Bistricer. He then tried—and failed—to evict a group of senior citizen tenants for apparent raucous partying and noise violations. Late last month, his management company locked out 70 maintenance workers over contract disputes, due largely to a proposed 34 percent pay cut.

A hole in the building exterior behind the complex's maintenance office, filled with trash. (Richard Nieva/The Brooklyn Ink)

A hole in the building exterior behind the complex's security and management offices, filled with trash. (Richard Nieva/The Brooklyn Ink)

Amidst the picketing and rallying that has taken place in front of the buildings since then, mounds of garbage have piled up in front of the complex. The city’s sanitation union has refused to collect trash as a show of solidarity to the maintenance workers.

The number of violations reported to 311—the phone number that dissatisfied tenants call to voice their complaints—has skyrocketed from about 7,600 to over 8,000 since the beginning of the lockout.

“I don’t know if there’s a correlation. That would be interesting to see,” said Kwame Patterson, a spokesperson for 32BJ, the union representing the workers. “I think the tenants are calling the city and complaining even louder than they have been.”

A Matter for Albany

As loud as they may be, though, their complaints could be falling on deaf ears.

State Senator Liz Krueger believes the solution is changing the system: setting up administrative tribunals through the city’s Department of Housing Preservation and Development to issue and enforce fines, instead of requiring lengthy and often toothless housing proceedings.

That means having landlords show up to expedited hearings in which they can make their claim—presenting evidence that the violations were inaccurate or have already been fixed. If they can’t do that, they are forced to pay the fines, said Sara Hale-Stern, Krueger’s district office director and main housing policy staffer.

“It’s a system with many, many loopholes,” said Hale-Stern.

Under the current law, a landlord gets a notice of violation from HPD, telling them the class of their infraction, and imposing a deadline to fix it. But after the notice is sent, that’s usually the end of it. Because housing court proceedings are so time consuming and expensive, very few cases actually make it to court.

“Landlords know that their chances of having to go to court or pay any fines are so small that the letters of violation are basically meaningless,” said Hale-Stern.

According to Title 27 of the New York City Administrative Code, class A penalties will cost a landlord between $10 and $50. Class B’s will cost $25 to $100, and $10 a day on top of the original price until the violation is corrected. Class C’s cost $50 per day until corrected.

Or, if conditions are bad enough, a building can be placed in the Alternative Enforcement Program, where the city takes on emergency repair work at the site. But only 200 buildings a year are eligible for the program, according to the Housing Maintenance Code.

But all of these numbers are theoretical, said Brent Meltzer, co-director for South Brooklyn Legal Services, which provides legal assistance to low-income individuals in the borough. A landlord can be issued these violations by the city, but there is no actual fine charged. A tenant must be taken to housing court in order for payment of those civil penalties to be enforced.

Still, de Blasio sees this as a problem. “Even when brought to court a landlord can still string out proceedings and argue down fines,” he said.

A landlord can owe millions of dollars on the books, and end up only having to pay a fraction, because the court usually settles for an “order to correct,” instead of enforcing the entire massive sum.

The tribunal system would resemble Chicago’s model, according to research by Benjamin Dulchin, executive director of the Association for Neighborhood and Housing Development, an umbrella association of city nonprofit housing groups. Dulchin has extensively explored the history of code enforcement in NYC, along with other major cities.

De Blasio said changing the system is about being able to go after those landlords truly determined to evade their responsibilities. “We still don’t have a sufficient number of tools,” he said.

A History of Resistance

Getting those tools is a perennial issue for Krueger, who introduces legislation to support this change every year, said Hale-Stern. The most recent bill proposal was the Tenant Rights Omnibus Act in 2009. The name refers to expanding the Omnibus Act, a series of legislation first enacted in 1954, which created government departments such as the Housing and Urban Development Department and the Urban Renewal Administration.

The bill faces consistent opposition from the Mayor’s office, which argues that the cost of initially setting up such a system would be too expensive. Hale-Stern said exact costs haven’t yet been analyzed, though she maintains the city would gain income in the long run, by having an effective system to collect housing code fines and saving money on emergency repairs done by the city.

Krueger took up the bill from former State Assemblyman and Environmental Conservation Commissioner—and then-Housing Committee chair—Pete Grannis, who first introduced the legislation in the late 1980s. Since then, mayoral administrations have opposed the upheaval of the structure.

Their closest advance in progress came in 2007, when Krueger’s office was in talks with then-Gov. Elliot Spitzer’s office. Language from Krueger’s bill made it onto the state budget, but after pushback from Mayor Michael Bloomberg’s office, the language was removed.

Standing water in the basement of one of the complex's 59 buildings. (Richard Nieva/The Brooklyn Ink)

Standing water in the basement of one of the complex's 59 buildings. (Richard Nieva/The Brooklyn Ink)

Krueger is hoping that with the press attention, along with pressure from de Blasio’s office, the climate is right for another push. But Hale-Stern said the senator would not even bother trying to bring the bill to the senate floor without mayoral backing. She is open to compromise and tweaking the bill if it means getting support from the city.

Jon Furlong, a tenant advocate with the Pratt Area Community Council, said he supports the bill, but has reservations as to whether or not it would ever pass. “The landlord lobbyists are very powerful,” he said.

But others, such as Robert Rosenblatt, a Brooklyn landlord and tenant attorney, said the onus is on the tenants and that he thinks the law is fine as is.

“It may not work because people don’t know their rights and obligations under the law,” he said. “But if you know your rights and obligations it absolutely does work.”

Furlong agrees, but said he thinks the problem is deeper-rooted. He said the HPD is “well-intentioned, but understaffed,” and like de Blasio, calls for a streamlining of the enforcement process.

But even more deeply, he said the problem is internal for many tenants: “They’re resigned to the fact that this is just the way it is.”

Still Waiting

Michelle Williams is one Flatbush Gardens tenant who doesn’t settle for “the way it is.”

The 34-year-old tenant, originally from Trinidad, has lived in the complex for over 20 years, staying with her great-grandmother as a child before she died. She’s lived in three of the complex’s 59 buildings and recalls the pre-Bistricer era.

Williams, who has been the building captain in two of the three buildings she’s lived in, admits the environment is better than it was ten years ago, but she attributes it to the entire neighborhood’s growth and development.

“Management sucks either way,” she said. She remembers the shift from the old Vanderveer Estates name to Flatbush Gardens, and the external changes Bistricer made to make it look “pretty on the outside.”

“It’s just a change of hands,” she said, adding that the change between landlords was forgettable. About half of Bistricer’s violations were inherited from before he bought the building, according to de Blasio’s office.

Her biggest complaint is a large, dark watermark on her ceiling, presumably from a tenant’s leaking washing machine. The leak has also seeped and created damage to her wall. She fears the mold and paint chipping will harm her two small children, one of which is asthmatic.

Maintenance has addressed the problem many times, she said, but the mark keeps coming back. It’s been a year since she first noticed it.

“If you paint it and make it look pretty, eventually in a week’s time, it’s going to seep through again. And that’s what’s happening again,” she said, referring to the mark.

For her, it is an issue of pride in her home—unlike Gillick, who will begin looking for apartments in Manhattan as the wedding approaches. Williams, though, said it’s about feeling good in her home, and “in her own skin.”

“Be fair,” she said. “Give the people what they pay for.”


The Little Street That Could

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Cortleyou Road circa 1910/Courtesy of Ronald Schweiger, Former Brooklyn Borough Historian

Cortelyou Road circa 1910/Courtesy of Ronald Schweiger, Brooklyn Borough Historian

By Idil Abshir

Cortelyou Road feels so self-contained that at times it resembles a small town. Like a residential Russian doll, Cortelyou Road has become a neighborhood within the broader neighborhood of Flatbush. A seven-block stretch from Coney Island Avenue to East 17th Street, Cortelyou Road is home to over 85 businesses. On weekends the street is teeming with people at the farmer’s market. Patrons fill the many bars, restaurants and cafes, and children play in the playground at PS 139.

A decade ago, this stretch of Cortelyou was virtually abandoned. The street was lined with 99 cent stores and bodegas, and there were no businesses where residents could linger. Homes were poorly maintained, and when those who lived in the nearby Victorian houses wanted to rest or hang out somewhere besides their own homes, they had to leave the neighborhood entirely.

The story of Cortelyou’s transformation mirrors that of many other Brooklyn neighborhoods, both historically, as at the start of the 20th century, and more recently as a trendy, upcoming area. It has developed commercially, and this has become as much a definitive aspect of the neighborhood, as the quality of its housing. For residents, and prospective residents, what is outside their house is as important as what is on the inside.

“Brooklyn has evolved,” said John Manbeck, former Brooklyn Borough Historian. Of the changes on Cortelyou Road, he said, “The same thing happened in Williamsburg, people who lived there years ago wouldn’t recognize it. Red Hook too.

Before the turn of the century Cortelyou Road was farmland, and a throughway for those making their way further south to the glamour and racetracks of Coney Island. T.B. Ackerson, an icemaker, quit his factory job in 1898 to develop the area into a residential neighborhood, building Victorian and Tudor-style homes. Victorian Flatbush, which Cortelyou Road is a part of, was the place to be: here Guggenheim bought a house for his soon-to-be-wed daughter; Nellie Bly, a groundbreaking journalist, lived on manor off Cortelyou; and Thomas Edison reportedly did some of his experiments in the basement of a house just off Cortelyou Road. Further into the 20th Century, the neighborhood developed into a relatively middle class suburb, and stayed that way until there was a spike in crime in the 1960s. New York City was in the midst of a financial crisis, and Flatbush wasn’t spared. Welfare tenants were relocated to apartments in Flatbush and the middle class began to panic. Flatbush, like the rest of the city, was undergoing what was termed ‘white flight,’ in which the middle class white residents were fleeing the city. By the mid 1970s middle-class residents, both black and white, left Flatbush, not returning until a decade later. Manbeck described this as an “upheaval” for Cortelyou road.

Jan Rosenberg, who has lived here since 1986, says that the neighborhood was drastically different when she moved in. “The houses were more deteriorated and in need of repairs,” she said. “The main difference was that it was much more dangerous.”  Rosenberg was a sociology professor at Long Island University in downtown Brooklyn before she ventured in to the real estate business. She is currently a partner at Brooklyn Hearth Realty. In 2001, Rosenberg founded Friends of Cortelyou- a group that sought to attract business to Cortelyou Road.

There were no new businesses drawn to the area. Friends of Cortelyou tried to attract merchants, convinced that this could redefine the neighborhood. “Our commercial strip is so short. I strongly felt, after looking at other neighborhoods, that three or four new businesses would make an impact, ” said Rosenberg. “We had nice houses and nice apartments but no businesses.” Rosenberg clarified that while useful stores existed, like the delis and dollar stores, nothing was in place that neighborhood residents were drawn to. Rosenberg went on to say that her work developing Cortelyou Road, and her current job as a realtor was never a far departure from sociology. “I got into real estate as a function of what I was doing with Friends of Cortelyou- trying to change Cortelyou Road,” Rosenberg said. “It was kind of applied sociology.”

In an article she wrote about the neighborhood titled “Gentrification from the inside out in Brooklyn’s Ditmas Park,” for newgeography.com, Rosenberg writes that the quality of life collapsed, and that Cortelyou Road didn’t have it’s basic needs covered banking and eating establishments, for example despite the efforts of the Giuliani’s administration to clean up this and other neighborhoods. However, the city’s efforts to make the neighborhood more livable were only successful to an extent. Although there was a business void, the neighborhood was safer, there were more people investing in family homes.

Still, “there was a void,” Rosenberg said. “There were 99cent stores, and then a 97cent store opened. That was an indicator of a downward trend, we were competing downward.”

Charlie Hull, a recent Brooklyn College graduate, and server at the Purple Yam restaurant on Cortelyou, says he that although he has been living in the neighborhood he saw no point in visiting Cortelyou Road until establishments sprang up that he felt were worth visiting. “I never really ventured up to Cortelyou Road until things started opening,” Hull said. “Just because I didn’t really have a reason to.

Getting the businesses to initially invest Cortelyou was more difficult than the Friends of Cortelyou anticipated. The group found themselves with an unexpected obstacle. “People didn’t take this neighborhood seriously,” Rosenberg said. “People thought it was laughable that you would try bring business to Cortelyou Road.”

Unsure of where to start, but certain that a few business would make a big impact, the Friends decided to approach business owners in other parts of Brooklyn who had faced the same problems. “We recruited merchants who’d opened restaurants in a neighborhood that wasn’t developed,” said Rosenberg. “We took a cue from Fort Greene. We talked to several of the early restaurateurs- they had the same pent-up demand, and cheap rent.”

Susan Siegel, the creator of the farmer’s market at Cortelyou, and later the executive director of the Flatbush Development Corporation said the changes to Cortelyou Road were absolutely necessary, because the area was experiencing ‘economic leakage.’ Nobody was investing or spending in the neighborhood. “We liked that it’s not Park Slope, but at the same time there was so much missing. We spent more money outside the neighborhood than in it,” Siegel said. “If I needed to cook something with broccoli or arugula I had to leave the neighborhood.”

Siegel says that the farmer’s market is at the core of the neighborhood. “The farmer’s market is like the town square,” Siegel said. “It was a way that all diverse neighbors could come together for the first time ever. It was a real community builder.”

The challenges Siegel faced involved getting people to come to the market, and proving to existing businesses that the market wasn’t going to take away their business: something that was easily achieved since the market provided goods that resident had to leave Flatbush to find. Business owners faced different challenges. One of the current owners of Picket Fence, one of the first restaurants to open during Cortelyou Road’s renaissance, said that it was a huge risk for the original owner of the place. “He took the gamble and didn’t know if there would be a payoff,” said Roma Agarwal a joint owner since 2007. “But he saw the incentive, he saw the market here.”

Rosenberg said that merchants eventually saw that the opportunity outweighed the risk. “Business people saw it in Williamsburg and on Smith Street, “ she said. “They knew if you get a foothold in a neighborhood it pays off, because they can come in when the rents are still low. In 5-10 years that is a strong advantage.”

Siegel says that commercial overhaul is happening all over the borough. “It’s definitely a broader Brooklyn Story. Brooklyn is booming,” Siegel said. “Bed-Stuy is another neighborhood that’s changing.”

Siegel believes that the changes on Cortelyou have been for the best, but points out that not everyone has supported them. “A lot of people are against gentrification. People get priced out,” she said.  “We don’t want that to happen here but you can’t stop it, these things happen in waves. It’s progression.”

Rosenberg feels the changes on Cortelyou Road far superseded any of their expectations. “It’s amazing,” Rosenberg said. “Cortelyou road is like the little street that could.”

A Rising Tide of Sephardic Jews Brings Change to the Yeshivah of Flatbush

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The student body at the Yeshivah of Flatbush in Brooklyn, N.Y. has shifted from an Ashkenazic to Sephardic majority. (Photo: Alexandra Hootnick/The Brooklyn Ink)

 

As Passover approached 25 years ago, Diane Chabbot’s daughter was finally ready to participate in the songs and prayers of the seder with her family. The first grader had been practicing them constantly in her Hebrew day school class at the Yeshivah of Flatbush in Brooklyn. But when the little girl realized the Ashkenazi prayer melodies she had come to know didn’t match the melodies sung by her large Syrian family, she began to cry.

The incident was subsequently brought before the school’s board of education by Chabbot’s family rabbi and current head of the yeshivah’s high school, Raymond Harari. It reflected not just one family’s experience but rather a major demographic change in the neighborhood and the yeshivah. The growing Syrian population in Flatbush was tilting the yeshivah’s student body from a historically Ashkenazi majority, descending from German or Eastern European Jews, to a Sephardic majority, descending from Spanish or Middle Eastern Jews. By 1989, three years later, the school had instituted an Integrated Sephardic Ashkenazic Seder and a school-wide Sephardic tefillah, or morning prayer, as an alternative to the Ashkenazi one. And those were only the beginning of the educational adaptations.

“We’re not completely different, the basic conceptions are the same,” said Chabbot, who adopted her Syrian husband’s Sephardic customs after being raised in an Ashkenazi household.  “But customs are different, melodies are different, shul is different, and so some of the things that have changed are just this awareness of the richness of the different cultures.”

Rabbi Lawrence Schwed became a principal at the Yeshivah of Flatbush’s elementary school in the late 1980s, and said the first thing that he did was create Sephardic tefillah groups so that both Ashkenazi and Sephardic children could pray according to their respective traditions. “What good does it do for me to teach you how I pray,” Schwed said, if “ your parents aren’t familiar with it and that’s not what you’re going to hear in your synagogue.”

Brooklyn’s Syrian Jewish population is currently estimated to be 75,000 and growing, and Schwed said that “the vast majority” of the school’s K-8 students are now Sephardic, compared to about half in 1989.

Ashkenazic Jews and Sephardic Jews vary in cultural practices and dietary considerations as well as religious prayers and customs. For example, Ashkenazi Jews, unlike the Sephardim, refrain from eating rice during Passover. In Sephardic culture, naming children after grandparents is common, even if they are alive, while Ashkenazim typically pass the names of deceased relatives to the next generation.

Founded in 1927, the Yeshivah of Flatbush is a coeducational, Modern Orthodox private school with roughly 2,100 students. According to the school’s executive vice president, Dennis Eisenberg, the school has always drawn from the Sephardic community, but in increasing numbers over the years. Eisenberg said this trend is even more pronounced in the elementary and middle schools because community demographics drive the student population, but that the school does not collect data on how many students enroll in either the Sephardic or Ashkenazic minyanim, or morning prayer meetings.

Still, Harari said the school doesn’t define itself as Ashkenazic or Syrian. “There was always a desire to have an integration of both traditions,” said the head of the Joel Braverman High School.

The first Syrian Jews came to America in the early 20th century and initially settled in Manhattan, but moved to the Bensonhurst area of Brooklyn after the Eastern European Jews dominating Manhattan denigrated them as “Arab Jews.” In the 1980s, the Syrians who had accumulated a degree of wealth and success began to flow into Flatbush, where home values were rising.

Schwed said the school ran routine staff-development programs in order to train what was then a mostly Ashkenazi staff in becoming familiar with Sephardic culture. “The teachers had to retool, just like you have to technologically retool these days,” Schwed said, although the Yeshivah of Flatbush does not hire nor keep count of teachers based on their Sephardic or Ashkenazic backgrounds.

Other than the morning tefillah, Sephardic and Ashkenazic students attend the same classes. During the after-lunch prayer and holidays, the school either alternates between or observes both Sephardic and Ashkenazic traditions.

In the yeshivah’s preschool, however, Schwed said students are only taught the Sephardic tefillah, a change that was made several years ago when the student population tilted towards a Sephardic majority. Having separate tefillot “was too confusing for the children,” Schwed said. “So now everybody in the preschool learns Sephardic tefillah, and beginning in first grade we separate them based on what their parents choose.”

In 2008, the elementary school launched an updated Sephardic tefillah program that Schwed said has exceeded beyond the school’s wildest expectations. “Our students were always top academically, but we got killed on Shabbat because our kids couldn’t compete with the kids from the other schools in terms of prayers,” Schwed said. “Now our kids are flying on Shabbat.”

Alex Schindler, a 2007 graduate, wrote in an email that the elementary school’s efforts have allowed the Yeshivah of Flatbush to compete for Syrian students with nearby, exclusively Sephardic day schools like Magen David.

In the last few years, Harari said, the yeshivah’s Joel Braverman High School has offered a Sephardic history elective in addition to Sephardic-based independent study. The mandatory Jewish history class has also given increased emphasis to Sephardic history.

Schindler wrote that while he expected the amount of Sephardic programming to eventually increase in the high school, there currently wasn’t much.

“The mandatory Jewish history class, for example, is almost entirely synonymous, when dealing with the modern period, with Modern Ashkenazi Jewish history, though my teacher taught a little bit of Sephardic history,” Schindler wrote, adding that the exams students could take for Yeshiva University credit wouldn’t test for the Sephardic material.

Eisenberg said that in the high school a greater balance exists between Sephardic and Ashkenazi students, with students commuting from areas like New Jersey, Manhattan and Westchester. Schindler wrote that he estimates the proportion is now about 70 percent Sephardic, 30 percent Ashkenazic. When he was in high school, the Sephardic students’ minyan was moved into the auditorium previously occupied by the Ashkenazic students, who were relocated into classrooms as their numbers continued to fall.

Ashkenazi Jews have slowly trickled out of Flatbush and Midwood to enclaves in the tri-state area partly due to a growing affluence. Schwed said another reason was that during 1980s housing boom in Flatbush, some Ashkenazim decided to sell their homes and move to where their children had relocated. “Their kids were not coming back to Flatbush,” Schwed said.

Schwed also said more Modern Orthodox schools have sprung up in areas where Ashkenazim have relocated, and have improved in addition to being closer to students. While the school used to have two full buses of Ashkenazim coming in from Staten Island, Schwed said now they’re down to one van. “The Yeshivah of Flatbush used to be the only show in town in terms of what we offered,” Schwed said. “Now many, many schools have copied our model, and that’s very flattering.”

The remaining Ashkenazic population in Flatbush is predominately “black-hat,” or stringently Orthodox Jews, who are less inclined to engage in secular society or send their children to a modern, coeducational Orthodox school like the Yeshivah of Flatbush.

Ami Sasson, the president-elect of the Yeshivah of Flatbush’s Ladies Auxiliary and 1992 graduate, said she had many Ashkenazic friends while she was a student, and the groups’ outward trend was a loss to the diversity of Flatbush. “A lot of people in school, including my kids,” she said, “say they wish there were more Ashkenaz.”

Schwed said the yeshivah currently gives $9 million of its $36 million budget in tuition assistance. There has been some discussion about possible merit scholarships to the school in the future, but despite the high costs of a private religious education, Schwed said the school has been “bursting at the seams” with a rapidly growing student population. Schwed said more pupils want to come to the Yeshivah of Flatbush because they “want the mix of Ashkenazim and Sephardim, even though the shift has gone the other way.”

 

 

 

Dispute Over Flatbush Vacant Lot Shrouded in Legal Ambiguity

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Vacant Lot

The boarded-up 480 Stratford Road among its Victorian neighbors. The house that originally stood on the property was demolished in 2006. Chris Haire/BI

 

With children on Big Wheels crushing piles of amber leaves and fashionably antique Victorian homes hidden behind lush gardens, Stratford Road is a postcard collector’s dream. Yet in the center of this hushed Victorian neighborhood in Flatbush sits a vacant lot guarded with eight-foot-tall plywood fences like some dilapidated fortress.

The lot did not always look that way.

One of those proud Victorians once stood there, but was purchased by a developer in 2006 and quickly demolished. The lot has been empty since and no new construction has started—a sign of what happens when a developer’s coffers run dry. The lot is overrun with weeds. Orange safety cones and pallets decorate the land.

“It’s horrible. There’s empty pallets, leftover construction material and trash,” said urban gardener Margaret Dunn-Carver, who rents a room in the house next to the lot. “It could be so much more.”

What a prospective new owner of the lot has in mind, though, isn’t likely to please Dunn-Carver.

The company interested in purchasing the lot at 480 Stratford Road, 10 Stratford Associates, is seeking approval for a legal maneuver allowing it to erect a seven-story building among the decades-old Victorians, setting up a fight with the residents of District 14, who insist such a building would violate a rezoning law passed in 2009.

This legal maneuver, known as common law vested rights, has become increasingly frequent since the end of the recession when a number of zoning changes occurred throughout the city, pitting developers against the communities that supported the rezoning. The Board of Standards and Appeals received 25 common law applications in 2009 and 2010, according to its Executive Director Jeffrey Mulligan.

One such zoning change was the 2009 Flatbush Rezoning, which changed the status of the lot from R6—a designation allowing multifamily dwellings—into an R3X, which permits only single-family homes to be built. The prospective owner of the lot on Stratford Road has filed an application for “common law vested rights,” which would allow the company to build according to the original zoning status of the property.

Community Board 14 unanimously voted Nov. 14 to send letters asking the BSA and the Department of Buildings to reject the buyer’s application.

The letters, copies of which were attained by The Brooklyn Ink, portray 10 Stratford Associates and the current owner in a negative light.

“Due to our concerns related to the non-owner applicant and our belief that the current owner has acted in bad faith,” says one of the letters, “Community Board 14 recommends that the BSA deny the application for common law vested rights.”

The community board’s concerns toward the buyer, according to the letter, is that the applicant does not own the property but is claiming financial hardship if the appeal is denied. The allegation of “bad faith” on the part of the current owner is not spelled out, but seems to be the result of five years of tensions between him and the community.

Jay Loeffler, the current owner according to Department of Finance records, purchased the land from Maurice Pinkster in April 2006. Loeffler surprised residents by quickly demolishing the Victorian, according to Henri Pinkster, Maurice’s brother, who has lived in the house next to 480 Stratford Road since 1988.

The demolition was the beginning of Loeffler’s plans.

Highrise

A blueprint for the proposed structure that could rise above the Victorian houses on Stratford Road.

Blueprints of the proposed structure, drafted before the rezoning change, show that Loeffler planned to build the seven-story complex on the lot, which connects Stratford Road to Coney Island Avenue, and use floors three through seven for apartments. Floors one and two were to be leased to a business.

Two similar structures were built at the end of the street long before the zoning change. But the proposed apartment’s central location angered the community.

At the time, however, there was not much residents could do to prevent the high rise.

The area along Coney Island Avenue was zoned R6, which permits the construction of tall residential or community structures. So Loeffler began construction on the foundation, which cost approximately $160,000, according to documents filed with the BSA.

Then, the recession hit. The construction stopped.

“My client had some financial problems, as have a lot of people in the last few years,” said Jordan Most, the lawyer representing both Loeffler and 10 Stratford Associates.

That was the way things stood in 2009, when the Flatbush Rezoning changed the status of the area comprising his property in order to prevent new high rises.

“I wanted to make sure we protected the beauty of the neighborhood,” said Flatbush’s Councilman Mathieu Eugene, who supported the plan.

The statute, though, does provide a two-year grace period for owners to re-file with the DOB and retain the original permit.

That deadline expired this year—about the same time Loeffler agreed to sell the lot to 10 Stratford Associates, contingent on its ability to build the high rise on the now low-rise-only lot.

So Loeffler filed an application to allow the building’s construction under common law vested rights.

Under common law, a property owner is allowed to continue a project that defies new zoning laws if significant work had been done prior to the law’s passing. But under common law, “significant work” is ambiguous.

“The common law is a more liberal application [than the statutory law],” said BSA’s application examiner Toni Matias.

As long as the DOB finds the original permit valid, it will refer the matter to the BSA to decide, Matias said.

“[The applicants] have to pass a three-prong test,” Matias said. “We look at work done, expenditures and possible incurred costs [if application is not granted].”

That is where the debate with the community comes in.

Residents challenge the idea that 10 Stratford Associates can take credit for the work, expenditures and possible costs of a property it does not yet own.

Unfortunately for the community, the BSA allows future owners to file the application, Mulligan said.

Still, the community board seems determined to fight against the application, which could take months to resolve.

“We asked the community residents,” said CB 14 Chairman Alvin Berk. “They are for not having the building.”

“We are allowed to build there. I’m going to try to build an old-style building,” said Igor Zangranichny, co-owner of 10 Stratford Associates. He also contemplated what would occupy the bottom floors.

“Maybe a doctor’s office or a kindergarten, something good for the community,” he said.

Competing Arguments Made in Flatbush Stabbing Trial

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Photo by Esteban Illades/The Brooklyn Ink

Competing arguments were furious today as the jury prepared to deliberate the verdict for a Florida man accused of brutally stabbing his victim to death at a Flatbush intersection.

The case, which originally appeared to be a simple drug deal gone bad, was turned upside down when defense lawyer, Doug Appel, asked jurors to question who was the real victim. The defendant, Nuri Hoxha, was 17 years old when he fatally stabbed Philip Realmuto, 25, in April 2008. Appel said in his final statement that Hoxha did so in self-defense.

“Who was taking advantage of whom?” the lawyer asked rhetorically.

In a trial at Kings County Criminal court, which started an hour late due to a tardy juror, both the prosecution and defense concluded their arguments in front of Judge Neil Jon Firetog.

The defendant had travelled to New York to sell $3600 worth of cocaine to the Staten Island victim, whom he had previously met in Florida. Four days after Hoxha arrived in New York, Realmuto was found at Avenue C and McDonald Avenue near his car, stabbed to death with 18 wounds.

In court, Hoxha appeared frustrated with prosecutor Tim Gough, who insisted that Hoxha repeat the timeline of his visit to the city, from his arrival at the Port Authority bus terminal to a few days later, on the evening when Realmuto was killed.

Gough presented Hoxha as a hotheaded drug dealer who became upset when the victim continued to postpone the drug deal over a few days. At 17 years, the defendant already had three drug related arrests in Florida. The prosecutor divulged into Hoxha’s criminal history, saying that Hoxha had already been robbed and shot at before coming to New York.

“You’re putting words in my mouth,” the defendant stuttered, when Gough bluntly asked him whether Hoxha had used weapons to protect himself because of his high-risk lifestyle.

Gough showed the jurors phone records that revealed numerous outgoing calls Hoxha made, particularly to a Suffolk County number, the day before the murder even though Hoxha claimed he didn’t know anyone in New York.

At one point, Judge Firetog asked the defendant to compose himself. “Just answer questions, don’t ask questions,” the judge said, after Hoxha, visibly agitated, began posing questions to the prosecution.

The police caught Hoxha after he was arrested for possession of cocaine in Clearwater, Florida, more than a year after leaving New York.

The defense didn’t dispute that Hoxha stabbed Realmuto. Instead, defense lawyer Appel asked the jurors to think about what happened between the two men that night in Realmuto’s car. Realmuto picked up Hoxha and drove to the quiet Flatbush intersection where the exchange was supposed to finally occur; three days after Hoxha arrived in the city.

The trial hinges on Hoxha’s intentions, which is important as the jurors prepare to decide if Hoxha is guilty of second degree murder. A second degree murder charge in New York carries a  sentence of 25 years to life.

Appel painted Hoxha as a young, foolish teenager who was only protecting himself from Realmuto, who sold illegal pills.

“I told you in the beginning you wouldn’t like anything about [Hoxha],” Appel said, during his final statement. Hoxha slouched down in his chair as Appel addressed the jury.

Appel suggested that Realmuto pulled out the knife from under his seat, causing Hoxha to panic and grab the knife in self-defense.

Appel, however, didn’t address why Hoxha stabbed the victim multiple times before running away to the nearest subway station.

The jury is currently deliberating the charges, and will likely arrive at a verdict later this week.

Overcrowding in Elementary Schools Becoming a Greater Concern in Brooklyn

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At the end of the school day, gaggles of excited students at P.S 139 burst out the doors, some to frolic in the playground, while others join waiting parents to walk home, usually hand-in-hand.

P.S. 217, one of the schools affected by overcrowding (Chika Okaneme/The Brooklyn Ink)

It’s a timeless American scene that warms the heart, but what it hides is something else.   P.S. 139, and many other schools throughout Brooklyn, are growing increasingly over-crowded—and the problem is likely to only get worse for the foreseeable future.

According to the New York City Department of Education’s 2010-2011 capacity report, about a third of NYC elementary school buildings are over capacity. Nearly a hundred of these schools are in Brooklyn. Out of the 5,003 new seats the department provided to schools this year, Brooklyn— the most populated borough—received only 343 of them. Yet, the borough continues to grow as a popular destination for young American and immigrant families looking for affordable housing and charming neighborhoods.

But as Mildred Decker, a young single mother with a child in P.S. 139, worries:  “If the school’s overcrowded, how is a kid supposed…to get the right amount of help?”

Her concern can be seen in spades in Community Board 14, which represents the Flatbush, Midwood, and eastern Kensington neighborhoods.  Three schools in CB14’s part of school district 22— P.S. 217, 139 and 315— are over-capacity, according to the department of education’s report. In October, the board completed its fiscal year 2013 capital and expense budget and recommended that a new elementary school be built.

“Overcrowding has been a persistent problem…for many, many years…and this has been a recommendation for consecutive budgets” stated Shawn Campbell, the community board’s district manager. “The biggest challenge in meeting this or any other capital need is the constraints on the budget in the City of New York in these difficult financial times.”

“It’s been a problem in Brooklyn and citywide” said Christopher Spinelli, president of Community Education Council District 22, the “budget is degrading year by year.” Recently, the state reduced its contribution to city education by $1.4 billion. There have been thousands of teacher layoffs and a series of school budget cuts.

Schools are having trouble finding room for incoming students. “Principals are having to do more with less. They’re not able to open up additional classes, so… they have to continue to fill a class until it’s at capacity” Spinelli said. “In some cases they wind up going over capacity since you really can’t turn a child away.”

Residents are growing increasingly restless. “We’re getting more complaints now than ever before,” Spinelli said, “because principals are not able to open up more classes and hire more teachers. So we’re definitely seeing more issues with overcrowding.”

Spinelli went to an overcrowded school as a child, and his children are now in the same situation.  “My children have always been in classes that are at the maximum capacity and I don’t think that is an ideal learning situation” he said. “You always want a smaller class size.”

Repeated research shows that class size has a major impact on learning, student-teacher relationships, teaching quality, and overall academic success. In the 1980s, the landmark Tennessee Project STAR study, for example, showed that a class size between 13-17 students, for grades K through 3, resulted in higher test scores. According to the U.S. Department of Education, these results were especially significant for minority children and those from economically disadvantaged backgrounds.

Subsequent research also supports the Tennessee findings.  In a study published this year by Switzerland’s University of Teacher Education St. Gallen and the University of London, reducing class sizes by even one student can improve learning. The study also suggested that a class of 17 students or less is ideal.

The city department of education has a set of target class sizes for different elementary school levels— 18 students for Pre-K, 20 for grades K-3, and 28 for grades 4-8. All of these numbers are lower than the city’s previous class size standards, but they are higher than what many researchers think is the best class size for optimal learning.

Deckard’s five-year old daughter is currently enrolled in one of P.S. 139’s kindergarten classes. “I was aware of [the overcrowding] that’s why I didn’t want her to go to that school” she said, but she felt as though she had no choice. She was told to send her daughter to a zone school. Before registering her child, she tried to contact the school board to see if there was any way for her child to enroll someplace else, but she was either shooed away or left without a response. “I just feel like it’s kind of messed up” she said.

Her child’s kindergarten class has about 21 students. Deckard says she was in a kindergarten class about that same size when she was little, but there was one major difference. “I remember when I was in kindergarten I had two teachers” she said.  If the school cannot reduce the class size, she wishes there was at least another teacher in the classroom so that her child could receive more attention and better instruction.

Beth Orchulli, a stay-at-home mother of two, never went to an overcrowded school— but because of P.S. 217 her children now do. Although her son’s pre-k class is a descent size, her second grade son is in a class with about 25 other students.

When her family moved into the neighborhood two years ago, she already presumed that her sons would go to an overcrowded school. “It’s unavoidable unless you can afford private school,” she said.

Nevertheless, she wants change. “I think the children suffer,” she said. “There should be a bigger commitment to building more schools.”

Leonie Haimson, founder and Executive Director of Class Size Matters, is determined to stop overcrowding in New York City public schools. For the past 15 years she has used her organization as a means to inform the public about large class sizes and to push government into using state funding more effectively. “The Department of Education is legally mandated to [reduce] class sizes in all grades and they have not done so,” she said. “Instead they have allowed class sizes to increase.”

Children at the school playground in P.S. 217 (Chika Okaneme/The Brooklyn Ink)

The Contract for Excellence has been providing state funding to the city department of education since 2007. Under contract, the money can only be used for certain purposes, which includes reducing class sizes. However Haimson believes officials are not doing enough.

Since 2002, Mayor Bloomberg has had control of the New York City education system, not the Board of Education. “The city has been neglectful and remiss for many years, and it has gotten much worse under the Bloomberg administration” she said. Mayoral control will stay in effect until 2015.

“Early grades [are] the largest in 11 years” Haimson said, “so [the administration is] violating the law and [is] in essence violating our children’s constitution rights to adequate education.”

Although people are troubled by the current overcrowding situation, the city’s education department does not provide them with much hope. Frank Thomas, a spokesperson from the city department of education, said that overcrowding in CB 14’s part of school district 22 is not severe enough to cause much concern. “We only have so [many] resources to do work with,” he said.

And so after receiving proposals from across the city, the department believes that other parts of New York are in greater need for new schools at the moment. It may be some time before the residents in the CB 14 area see that desired new school.

Atheist Billboard Enrages Jewish Community

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Rabbi Liberow of Chabad Flatbush calls the billboard "disgusting." (Vikram Patel/The Brooklyn Ink)

 

On the evening of March 7, the Jewish community in Brooklyn celebrated the start of Purim, a holiday commemorating the salvation of the Jews from destruction at the hands of a Persian ruler named Haman. But Wednesday night ushered in a bit of unwelcomed text as well: a large billboard along the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway that reads, in both English and Hebrew, “You know it’s a myth, and you have a choice.”

The provocative advertisement was put up by American Atheists, a Cranford, N.J.-based organization of non-believers that says it wants to target closeted atheists in what they call “insular communities.” The group has also put up an identical billboard in Paterson, N.J. – with Arabic replacing the Hebrew script – hoping to target potential atheists in the sizable Muslim population there.

Blair Scott, the group’s director of communications, said its goal is not to mock people for their beliefs, but to reach out to those in the Jewish community who fear they’ll be ostracized if they came out as atheists.

“If you don’t know it’s a myth, then you’re not the target audience,” Scott said.

The Hebrew billboard was originally slated to go up Monday on South Fifth Street in Brooklyn, next to the Williamsburg Bridge, but Scott claims the owner of the building, Kenneth Stier, was pressured by leaders in the Hasidic community to not go through with it. When contacted by phone, Stier insisted that he wasn’t pressured by religious leaders, but then declined to comment on any further questions.

Many Hasidic Jews find the billboard offensive, like Rabbi Zalman Liberow from Chabad Lubavitch, a Hasidic movement, in Flatbush.

 

Jews frown on spelling out "God" (left) because it is such a holy term (Photo courtesy: American Atheists)

 

“This is really disgusting,” he said, sitting in a large van called the Mitzvah Tank on 14th Street and Kings Highway in Brooklyn, which serves as a sort of mobile synagogue. “I can understand why Christians or other religions would want to convert people,” he added, “but why would an atheist want to make other people atheist?”

Jews traditionally frown upon spelling out “God” because it is considered so holy. And while Scott said the decision to write it in Hebrew on the billboard was not intentional, he has no reservations about American Atheists’ decision.

“We’re not privy to their rules,” Scott said. “We don’t have to follow their dogma.”

This is not American Atheists’ first provocative campaign. The group drew sharp criticism from Christians in late November 2010, when it posted a billboard depicting a Nativity scene that read, “You know it’s a myth. This season, celebrate reason.”

Moishe Friedman, a Williamsburg resident who thinks the billboards are a ploy to drive traffic to the atheists’ website, said that Jewish people don’t go around telling people from other religions that they’re wrong for their beliefs – and neither should a group like American Atheists.

“I think non-Jewish people will build up a bad perception of the Jewish community and Jewish people in general,” he said. “Keep it to yourself.”

The billboard now sits on Meeker Avenue, above the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway, a little more than a mile-and-a-half north of the original Williamsburg location. Scott said the billboard company, Clear Channel Outdoor, was extremely apologetic, and has given the atheists five free days of advertising in its current location.

He said both billboards together cost around $15,000, which came from the group’s billboard fund, which is made up of individual donations and donations made directly to the billboard fund.

The advertisements come just a few weeks before the Reason Rally, a gathering of atheists, agnostics and other “free thinkers” schedule to take place on March 24 at the National Mall in D.C.

Rabbi Liberow believes campaigns like American Atheists’ are particularly dangerous for vulnerable youth whose faith may be wavering.

“It could give an extra push for people who are looking for freedom,” he said. “Obviously, a person would rather not have the burden of faith haunting him.”

Brooklyn Provides the Set for Two Generations of Filmmakers

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In the trailer for Dan Sallitt’s “The Unspeakable Act,” a 17-year-old girl named Jackie bikes home. Once there, she confronts her brother about his feelings for another girl and reveals her own romantic feelings for him. What only a few astute viewers may recognize is the place. Sallitt, 56, set his fourth feature in a stately green house with yellow shutters in the Midwood Park section of Brooklyn.

“It was kind of crucial to the script that the character have a house that’s very important to her and is kind of a projection of her own mythology of herself,” said Sallitt, who wound up shooting the movie in a longtime friend’s home.

In so doing, Sallitt has joined a growing number of filmmakers and writers who utilize the tree-lined streets and verdant manors found in neighborhoods like Flatbush, Ditmas Park, and Midwood as movie sets. Sallitt said that these communities are “very inviting to the film industry” because their architecture and ambience can evoke small-town America.

Antique cars from the set of Boardwalk Empire in Ditmas Park

Antique cars parked in front of the set of “Boardwalk Empire” in Ditmas Park, where the show filmed part of its pilot episode. (Melissa Howard/The Brooklyn Ink)

“The Unspeakable Act,” which Sallitt says is the first installment of a trilogy, was featured at the Brooklyn Academy of Music Cinema Fest this summer. At the film’s premier at the Sarasota Film Festival, Sallitt won the Independent Vision Award.

Another new film, Franklyn Strachan’s “Death is No Escape,” debuted earlier this summer in the supposedly haunted basement in Flatbush where it was shot. Strachan recently showed “Death is No Escape,” his fifth feature, at the Artisan Festival International World Cinema Festival, an event that says it celebrates cultural diversity, in Southampton on August 4.

Strachan, whose work has been featured in publications like The Huffington Post, The Brooklyn Voice, and Metrofocus, said he wrote the film’s script after experiencing a paranormal encounter.

“Basically, that idea of this fully manifested being, just being there, having a full consciousness from what I noticed, made me wonder what happens on that side and what happens that allows you to come through this side, and what happens if the person who was allowed to come through this side shouldn’t have been,” said Strachan, CEO of Cypher Productions. “That’s where this story starts.”

While the films by Sallitt and Strachan have dramatic themes, filmmakers who are more interested in other genres of film also consider neighborhoods in this area of Brooklyn as the perfect setting. Two New York-based comedians filmed several scenes in their web series, “It Gets Betterish,” in Ditmas Park last summer.

“It’s beautiful, it’s quiet, and it’s a very unassuming neighborhood,” said Eliot Glazer, co-creator of “It Gets Betterish.” “It’s very pretty, so why not take advantage of how beautiful the neighborhood is?”

Shows like “Gossip Girl” and HBO’s new series “Girls,” which is set in areas of Brooklyn and Manhattan, have received wide acclaim for their interpretation of being young and single in New York City. Glazer, 29, said he and the show’s other creator, Brent Sullivan, 28, felt it was important to show a different side of Brooklyn in “It Gets Betterish,” which he described as a web series that gives an “irreverent viewpoint on gay life in a really funny way.”

“It’s also nice to expand that view of Brooklyn outside of neighborhoods like Williamsburg and Park Slope, because you so often see, at least in comedies, films shot in the Williamsburg area,” said Glazer, who lived in Ditmas Park for many years. “You don’t often see representations of being young in Brooklyn elsewhere.”

Eliot Glazer and Brent Sullivan walk through the Cortelyou Road subway station in a scene from their webseries "It Gets Betterish." (Melissa Howard/The Brooklyn Ink)

Eliot Glazer and Brent Sullivan walk through the Cortelyou Road subway station in a scene from their web series “It Gets Betterish.” (Melissa Howard/The Brooklyn Ink)

“It Gets Betterish,” the most popular episode of which has been viewed more than 25,000 times on YouTube, received positive reviews from critics at blogs like Jezebel and The Frisky. In March, Glazer and Sullivan were also featured in The Huffington Post’s “Voice to Voice” series for their show.

The neighborhood culture and Victorian style of homes in some parts of Flatbush have a long history of attracting writers who want to develop their characters there. Sophie Zawistowski emigrates from Germany to Brooklyn in William Styron’s novel “Sophie’s Choice,” which was adapted into a full-length movie in 1982. Meryl Streep starred as Sophie in the film, which was mainly shot in Flatbush. The film “The Lords of Flatbush,” starring Henry Winkler and Sylvester Stallone, also takes place in this community.

Flatbush and Ditmas Park are often spotted in films and TV shows with large budgets. Two feature films scheduled to premiere in 2013 were filmed in Ditmas Park earlier this year, bringing several celebrities to the area. A romantic comedy called “A Case of You,” written by and starring Justin Long, filmed in Ditmas Park in February. “Blood Ties,” which stars Mila Kunis and Clive Owen, was also partially shot there.

One of HBO’s TV shows, “Boardwalk Empire,” filmed in the Flatbush Reformed Church many times in the past year. The crew returned to the area June 13, when they filmed in a house in Ditmas Park for several days. Antique cars were parked nearby, along with trailers labeled as dressing rooms for the show’s actors and actresses. “Boardwalk Empire,” the third season of which will premiere later this year, is actually set in Atlantic City, New Jersey, in the Prohibition period of the 1920s and early 1930s.

Bob Shaw, who was the production designer for “Boardwalk Empire” when the crew filmed part of its pilot episode in Flatbush, described some of the sets he designed as a representation of “a much more elegant time than the world we live in now.”

“You can’t always find a block of New York that looks like 1920,” explained Shaw, who said that “staying true to the period” was one of the toughest aspects of working as a member of this show’s crew.

When Jackie asks her brother “Do you really like her better than me?” in “The Unspeakable Act,” when Kristin says “There’s a woman staring at us,” and points to a floating figure in “Death is No Escape,” when Brent swigs from a flask in a bathroom at a dinner party in an episode of “It Gets Betterish,” these characters may seem worlds apart. Off screen, the distance can be measured in blocks.


Want to Know the Real Brooklyn? Take a Tour

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tour1

On last Friday’s tour, Jeffrey Stirewalt took his group to Flatbush, where they visited Erasmus High School, Loews’ Kings Theater, and a Dutch Reformed Church.

 

To most tourists, New York City Manhattan, but Brooklynite Jeffrey Stirewalt wants to change that and bring visitors across the river.

His company, “Brooklyn Unplugged Tours,” which he launched early last year, takes tourists to explore Brooklyn’s off the beaten path from Flatbush to Sheepshead Bay, to ethnic and faraway enclaves that would otherwise not be seen.

“Brooklyn deserves more acknowledgements,” said Stirewalt on a recent Saturday as he led a group of curious tourists on a trek through Brooklyn.

First stop: Erasmus High School, the oldest high school in the state, which is located on the corner of Flatbush Avenue and Church Avenue. The school is well known for its famous alumni—singer and movie star Barbara Streisand, writers Bernard Malamud and Mickey Spillane, Nobel Prize winning researchers Barbara McClintock and Eric Kandel, cartoonist Joseph Barbera, football star Sid Luckman, builder Samuel LeFrak and the actor Eli Wallach.

The 70-year-old Barbara Streisand, who graduated in 1959 from Erasmus High, returned to her hometown last year to perform for the first time. “Brooklyn to me means the Loews Kings, Erasmus, the yeshiva I went to, the Dodgers, Prospect Park, great Chinese food,” she said last year before the concert which was held at the Barclays Center. “I’m so glad I came from Brooklyn—it’s down to earth. I guess you can come home again,”

Stirewalt talked about Streisand as tour members, like Veronica Manlow, a professor at Brooklyn College, looked at the school’s display case of trophies and newspaper clippings.

“She came back and embraced her roots here,” Stirewalt said.

The Erasmus High School visit is part of Stirewalt’s newly added weekly 4-hour tour, “Caribbean Food & Culture Adventure,” in Flatbush, where this 3rd generation Brooklynite was born and grew up.

A few blocks away from the school, Loews’ Kings Theater, where Barbara Stresiand and Sylvester Stallone worked as teenagers, is undergoing a $92 million restoration. This landmark building was open in 1929 and will be given a second life by next year. A Dutch Reformed Church first built by Governor  Peter Stuyvesant in 1654, is also in the neighborhood.

“This is the oldest neighborhood in the city,” he said. It “boasts magnificent architecture and history, and hosts a strong community of immigrants from the Caribbean.”.

To get a flavor of the Caribbean community, the tour, costing $39.9 per person, takes visitors to Flatbush’s Caton Market, where they get to sample West Indian food like jerk chicken and curry goat, listen to the beats of reggae and calypso, and meet local small business owners, like 51-year old Patrick Burrell, who migrated to this country from Jamaica 21 years ago and has been living in Brooklyn for the last decade. Burell sells woodcrafts and leather goods imported from Jamaica.

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Jeffrey Stirewalt is taking his tour members to meet local business owners in the Flatbush’s Caton Market.

 

Participants in last Saturday’s tours seemed delighted by what they’d discovered. “I like the part that you actually spend a long time to know the history and meet people. That’s the most fascinating part of it. It’s different from going to a bus tour and rushing to those prepackaged sites,” said professor Manlow, who went on the tour with her 25-year old daughter, Laura.

“I’ve never been to this part of Brooklyn. You wouldn’t normally expect to see so many interesting things and people here,” said the professor’s daughter. “It’s like an adventure.”

Stirewalt believes only a native Brooklynite can show visitors the real Brooklyn

“Nobody knows Brooklyn like those that have lived their entire lives here,” he said. “If you had been in Flatbush 30 years ago, you would have seen Jews, Italians and Irish, but now the demographics and culture are very different. There are so many stories that need to be told.”

And his customers want him to keep telling them, apparently.  The latest request:  to add a tour about Brooklyn’s Russian culture.

For more information and tour schedules, visit Brooklyn Unplugged Tours

Navigating Two Different Cultures: A Pakistani Immigrant Girl’s Struggles

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Fifteen-year-old Amira Ashfaq immigrated to the United States in 2006. (Aisha Asif/The Brooklyn Ink)

Fifteen-year-old Amira Ashfaq immigrated to the United States in 2006. (Aisha Asif/The Brooklyn Ink)

A couple of years ago, Amira Ashfaq got a dog. Her parents were angry, but not just because the dog would need to be walked and housebroken – dogs are seen in her family’s culture as being impure.

“He always says Muslims aren’t supposed to have dogs, but I don’t understand,” said Amira, now 15, of her father. “God made him, so why is he different?”

Amira had gone with her older brother to a shelter for a cat, a pet which is allowed, but ended up with a one-year-old white pit bull when they found out he was being euthanized. Out of pity they snuck the dog into their apartment in Flatbush. When he was discovered by their disapproving parents, the teenagers said he would only be staying for a few days until a friend adopted him. But that never happened, and two years later the dog, Lumiere, has become a member of the family.

“So, my dad he still doesn’t admit that he likes him, but at night we see him sneaking food to him,” the Amira said, laughing.

Amira is one of the 8.3 percent of New York City kids who have immigrated to the United States from a foreign country, according to a recent report by Citizens’ Committee for Children. And like her counterparts, she is straddling the line between two different worlds – the one which her parents come from and the one she is living in now. She has learned to cope with bullying, the prospect of discrimination, and tries to live up to the traditional values her mother tries to instill in her.

Born in Saudi Arabia to Pakistani parents, Amira and her family immigrated to the United States in 2006.  Her father, who worked as a driver in the American embassy in the country, received visas for his whole family as a gift.

Amira’s family spent a few months in Georgia with a family friend before moving to New York, a place she said they prefer because of better job opportunities, and because everything was open late and within walking distance. But in Brooklyn, unlike in Georgia, she was bullied.

“Kids would be like, you don’t know how to read; you’re in fourth grade and you read like the level of a first grader,” Amira said. It didn’t help that her mother would dress her in shalwar kameez, traditional Pakistani clothes consisting up a long shirt and loose trousers, she added.

Amira started school at PS 214 in the Little Pakistan neighborhood in Brooklyn, where more than 50 percent of the students are Asian, and many are Pakistani. Because of her English skills, she was two grades behind and took ESL classes for five years. She and her younger sister Quratulain, who is known as Queen, used to watch Dora The Explorer to build an English vocabulary. Amira now chuckles at the thought that they had no idea they were learning Spanish at the same time.

As her English improved, her mother and father, who don’t speak English, began to rely on Amira as well to translate for them when they went shopping, to doctor’s appointments, and during parent-teacher conferences.

“If I’m failing in school and [teachers] call or something, they don’t understand nothing and I have to explain,” Amira said. “I could lie to them, you know, say I’m passing but I don’t do that. I let them know because they trust me.”

Christina Ali heads the youth program at the Council of Peoples Organization, a community center in Little Pakistan, and deals with immigrant kids and their parents regularly. She said that because some immigrant parents do not speak English and had limited education in their home countries, their children become their guides in navigating life in America.

“The kids end up being like the parents and the parents end up being the kids,” she said because they need their children’s help. “So the parents rely on the kids to communicate and they rely on the kids to make the decision so it becomes a total vice versa of parents and children.”

Though Ashfaq’s English has now improved to the point where no one teases her, she thinks languages — whether English, Urdu, or even the little bit of Arabic she picked up while in Saudi Arabia — are a big challenge for her. She said she struggles with her English lessons in class.

“I’m not really fluent with English or Urdu,” she said confessionally. “It’s like I don’t have a language; I just know a little bit of both.”

Since moving to Brooklyn, the family has stayed close to the Flatbush/Midwood neighborhood because of its large Pakistani community. Her mother was able to find a job at a nearby pharmacy despite her limited English because the neighborhood is filled with so many Urdu speakers. Her father does not work because of complications arising out of a problematic surgery. But the fact that her mother worked outside the house is strange for Amira and her family, who take the idea that the man of the house is the breadwinner very seriously.

“I always try to ask her [about her working] but she’s like, we did everything and passed through those horrible times,” Amira said.

Now her eldest brother, who is 21, supports the family as a construction worker and her mother no longer works. The eldest son is expected to provide for his parents in Pakistan, and her brother is glad to help out, Amira said.

“My parents are very cultural and…our family stick together and so my brother is very helpful and supports the family, too,” she said adding that she wants to do the same for them when she grows up to becomes a doctor.

But for now the family follows the traditional route. “My mom always says it’s [my brothers’] job to look after you guys after they pass away,” she said.

Amira has expectations weighing on her, too. Her family are Sayyids, a group in Pakistan who trace their ancestry back to the Prophet Muhammad. Therefore, they must be on their best behavior because people look up to them. Living in a neighborhood with so many other Pakistanis makes it difficult to stay away from the scrutinizing gaze of gossipy fellow residents who might talk negatively of them if for instance, they stay out too late.

“[My mother] always says, ‘Don’t embarrass me in front of anybody,’” Amira said. “She says do whatever you want, but don’t embarrass me in front of family because we’re girls and especially because we’re Sayyid.”

Amira poses for a picture near Little Pakistan, the neighborhood she lives in, in Flatbush. (Aisha Asif/The Brooklyn Ink)

Amira poses for a picture near Little Pakistan, the neighborhood she lives in, in Flatbush. (Aisha Asif/The Brooklyn Ink)

Ali said that because some parents are afraid their children might be negatively influenced by people or things around them, they are not as open to let their children just “hang out” with their friends in certain places. Amira mentioned that although she is allowed to do what she wants for the most part, she is restricted from activities such as sleepovers, because her parents don’t let her go because they don’t know her friends’ families and also find it rude to intrude in their homes this way.

“They feel alienated and because their parents have different expectations for them they also feel they don’t belong with the other kids,” Ali said.

When Amira starts high school in a few months, she might wear a hijab, or headscarf, like her mother. She said she has been mistaken for Mexican or Italian a few times, and it’s become increasingly important for her to identify herself as who she really is. She believes the headscarf will help.

Hearing the story of a friend who had a bottle thrown at her by a man who told her to “go back to your country you terrorist freak” gave her pause in the past, but not anymore.

“Before I used to be ashamed, but now I’m not. I always used to think, ‘Why can’t I be American?’ and then I realized I don’t want to be fully American. I liked that I’m mixed,” she said with a smile.

 

Also check out:

Safia Mahjabin: Portrait of A Muslim Teen Artist

Sixteen-year-old Safia Mahjabin was born in Bangladesh and immigrated to the United States with her family when she was one. Safia is a very active teen participating in numerous art and engineering competitions, is a member of her school’s Mock Trial Club and is president of the Drama Club. Recently, she played the part of Shakespeare’s Macbeth in a school play.

Hard Day at a Murder Trial: a Family Hears the Witnesses

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Yonette Newton and Yootha Pierre, mother and aunt of Natisha Barrow, still live in the Flatbush building where Barrow was murdered in 2011. Newton has been caring for her granddaughter, Aaliyah, since Barrow’s death 2 ½ years ago.

Newton keeps family pictures of Barrow and Akeem Deane—Barrow’s accused murderer and the father of Barrow’s child—in her apartment for Aaliyah, who is turning 4 in December. “Aaliyah should know where she came from, even if they’re not around anymore,” said Pierre, Barrow’s aunt. Barrow moved to Brooklyn from Guyana with her family when she was 13.

Family members responded to testimony today in the second day of the Brooklyn Supreme Court trial of Deane, accused of murdering 21-year-old Barrow on the morning of March 9, 2011, with 2-year-old Aaliyah in the room. Deane is charged with second-degree murder and is facing life in prison. “It’s been such a long process,” said Newton, who testified yesterday during the first day of trial.

Several of Barrow’s family members joined Newton and Pierre in the courtroom, where they listened to three witnesses and a harrowing 911 call. “Hearing the 911 tape, and her screams in the background, I just immediately started crying,” said Pierre.

Akeem Deane/Photo: Facebook

Akeem Deane/Photo: Facebook

The family members nodded their heads following the testimony of Abel Dorvil, a neighbor who testified that he saw Deane trap Barrow in a chokehold at the door of her apartment at 879 Lenox Road. “He slammed her on the floor, and the door closed,” said Dorvil.

Family members said Barrow had dreams of becoming a police officer. Deane and Barrow met at Canarsie Night School after Barrow’s arrival from Guyana. Barrow’s mother said that she was wary of Deane from the start. “When I first met him, something came over me,” said Newton. “He was always nice, but behind your back, something was going on.”

According to police, Deane was still in the apartment when officers arrived. Police officer Andrew Barron—the first officer to respond to the 911 call—testified today that when he arrived, he saw Barrow lying on the floor of the apartment and Deane holding a knife. “We told him to drop the knife,” said Barron, “He didn’t. He took the knife and stabbed himself.” After stabbing himself once, Deane dropped the weapon and police arrested him.

Deane sat passively in the courtroom today, dressed in a gray sweater and a button-up shirt. He made eye contact with no one and only moved to listen to the whispers of his attorney, Joseph Ostrowsky.

The prosecutor, Michelle Kaminsky, is expected to call seven more witnesses next week, including the medical examiner. Family members said that they were told that if they cannot remain emotionally reserved in the courtroom next week, they should not come. “I’m not coming on Monday,” said Pierre, Barrow’s aunt. “I can’t bear to see those pictures.”

Death knell for Flatbush’s haunted house?

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111 Clarkson Avenue in Flatbush. Built in 1902, the house could now be set for demolition. Photo: Sven Carlsson

A century after it was built to celebrate an immigrant’s achieving his American dream, Flatbush’s “haunted” mansion, which has endured storms, time, savage dogs, a chicken vendor and even an influx of pigeons, may at long last be facing the wrecking ball.

The house at 111 Clarkson Ave. – south east of Prospect Park – was once as grand as the aspirations of the man who built it: three stories, detailed archways, stained glass windows and a spacious veranda.

The garden behind the house was years ago paved over into a parking lot. Many of its windows, and the onion dome above the entrance, have been all but destroyed by wind and rain. The house looks worn, desolate, frightening.

“It was always the haunted house,” said Warren Oglivie, who has lived nearby for 40 years. “The scariest house on the block.”

It sits in sorry isolation, surrounded by apartment buildings. Few locals know what the property is used for, or why it has been left in such a state. But in late September, a developer bought 111 Clarkson for $2.8 million. The talk in Prospect Lefferts Gardens is that the house – grand or haunted, depending on your point of view – soon may be no more.


In 1902, Herman Raub, a plump German brewer who wore three-piece suits and sported a thick mustache, built the house at 111 Clarkson for his family. He had made a rapid success of himself since arriving in the United States at the age of 15. At 23, Raub became owner of the Central Railroad Hotel by Grand Central Station in Manhattan. At 30, he founded Consumers Park Brewery in Brooklyn.

He retained the Austrian architect Hugo von Wiedenfeld, whose plans drew on so many styles that a 1977 guide to New York City architecture described the mix as “berserk.” Von Wiedenfeld made sure to add a large step in the front of the house for carriages, and two stables in the back. “I’m sure it was the grandest house on the block,” said Robert Marvin, a long-time resident of the neighborhood and former president of the Lefferts Manor Association*.

But Raub’s good fortune did not last. He was fired from his brewing company five years after the house was built. In 1915, having founded the Coney Island railway and become “king” of that neighborhood’s Mardi Gras celebrations, Raub – rounder then than he had been at 111 Clarkson’s completion – died from liver complications. His wife and children stayed on, and would remain in the house for over 40 years. During that time, the surviving Raubs saw the block change around them. By the early 1930′s, tall, brick apartment buildings towered over their house. With time, only a handful of stand-alone houses remained on the block.

In 1958, a new family, the Fenimores, moved in. At that time, in a district just four blocks north of 111 Clarkson, a rigorous screening process awaited new tenants in what has become known as the Prospect Lefferts Gardens Landmark District. In the words of Louis Wolff, a long-time resident of the area, inhabitants there needed to be of a “superior type” – homogenous in terms of class, race and cultural backgrounds.

In some ways, Jennie and Joseph Fenimore fit the profile. They were a single family. They were white. But the house at 111 Clarkson was beyond their means. Jennie was a nurse and Joseph a bartender. They and their three children had moved from a two-bedroom apartment.

So Phyllis Raub, one of Herman’s three daughters, sweetened the offer; she lent the Fenimores $15,000.

She also left behind the trappings of the grandeur in which she had grown up: a library, a staircase of imported German wood, hand-painted walls and ceilings, a grand piano, velvet-clad chairs, and a chandelier so heavy that it looked like the only thing able to crush the massive table beneath it.

The Fenimores stayed for 25 years. Their daughter, Mary Fenimore, said that the upkeep of the house, done mostly by her father and his acquaintances in the real estate business, became a strain on her parents’ finances. She remembers the neighborhood and the house having changed by the late 1970s. “Everything began looking dirtier,” she said. “Everybody used to grow gardens, and have flowerbeds in front of their houses. In the morning, you could look down the block and see the old ladies sweeping the sidewalk. But I came back and saw all this trash. The whole place had changed.”

By the 1970s, some say, the house had become spooky. “It just looked creepy to me at the time,” said Monica Jones, who viewed the property in 1977 but felt it wasn’t for her. “I didn’t like the look of the house.” Yet photographs dated 1978 show a neat garden and a spotless facade basking in sunlight. None of the windows shown in the photo are boarded up. The onion dome on top of the entrance is intact.

In 1983, the Fenimores sold the property to Carl Holder, a local business owner and banker. Holder never lived there himself. Some three decades after the Lefferts Manor Association litigated extensively to keep roomers and boarders out of their enclave, the only tenants in a house three blocks south of the Historical District were two dogs: a mutt and a Doberman Pinscher – in Holder’s words, a “very ferocious” dog that, for over two years, only heeded instructions in Spanish. “They were not pets as far as I was concerned,” he said. “They were more to protect my property.” The Doberman was “never a friend.” Holder, who said he kept his dogs in the cellar of his new house, lived across the street, in a brick apartment building.

Meanwhile, the dogs kept watch in a neighborhood that had changed dramatically from Raub’s time. In 1979, four years before Holder moved in, the median family income for the surrounding blocks was nearly 40 percent below that of New York State. In the late 1950′s, that figure had been less than ten percent. A wave of migration to Brooklyn had completely altered the demographic makeup of the block where 111 Clarkson stood. In 1980, Flatbush, an area immediately south of Clarkson, had gone from 85 percent white to 80 percent non-white in ten years’ time.

Even as the area transformed, Raub’s mansion remained a magnet for dreams. Holder – himself an immigrant, from Trinidad – harbored ones sprung from American literature. “I wanted something like the Great Gatsby,” he said. Holder’s idea was to entertain the community elite he had met working as a banker in Harlem. “I wanted to invite friends to wear their old-time clothing and things like that.” On Super Bowl Sunday, he hosted a lobster cook-off between him and his sister. “It was too big a house for a single person.”

During his brief spell as owner, a glass company in Long Island offered Holder $50,000 – nearly half what he had paid for the whole property – to remove the leaded, stained glass and replace it with regular windows. He did not take the offer. Nor did he realize his plan, conceived when he had decided to move to Florida, of tearing the house down to make the whole property a more lucrative parking lot.

The house survived. But, like the neighborhood, it had changed. After accommodating families for some 80 years, 111 Clarkson had no human residents. “I tried sleeping there,” Holder said. “Sometimes I would hear the wind blowing and noises when I was sleeping.”


On a recent afternoon, wrappers, bottles and take-away cups were strewn in the overgrown front garden. Bushes crowded the walkway. Pigeons had long ago outsmarted the nets there to protect wooden details on the facade of the house. Their excrement covered the archways on the outside, and blanketed the floor on the windowless third story, which the birds annexed long ago. A pigeon sat on the railing of the top balcony, posturing ownership.

Behind the house, the parking lot – laid by the Fenimores two years after they moved in to rent out spaces for extra income – had only one car in it. Its windshield was smashed, the tires flat. The car offered no sign that its owners intended to return. The back fence was shut, reinforced by concrete barriers a few yards inside the lot.

The back of the lot, once a garden with two stables, was converted into a parking lot in the early 1960's to provide extra income for its owners.

The back of the lot, once a garden with two stables, was converted into a parking lot in the early 1960′s to provide extra income for its owners. Photo: Sven Carlsson

Yet it was business as usual on the enclosed porch, from which the house’s most recent owner, Raphael Berger, ran a law office. Inside, the sour smell of damp, old wood did not bring to mind a workplace. But the phone rang frequently. Back from lunch, flicking through a notebook full of names and notes, Berger’s secretary sat at her desk, running the daily operations. Berger got full ownership of the house in 1988, and remained on its deed until last month. Many say 111 Clarkson deteriorated on his watch. “The previous owner didn’t touch it for 30 years, or more,” said Seth Brown, the real estate investor who recently bought the property.

Berger is of a different opinion. He said that when he became part owner, in 1984, the house “was in a terrible state of disrepair.” Berger blamed Holder for letting dogs stay unattended in the cellar. “It deteriorated in part because the person I bought it from was using it to house animals,” he said.

Yet a tax photograph from the mid-1980′s shows a tidy garden with all windows intact. As the photographic evidence would have it, the house slid into dilapidation while in Berger’s hands. “Houses deteriorate,” he said, pointing out several exterior repairs he had paid for. “We had some hurricanes, we had storms, we had things that adversely affected the shape of the house.”

In Berger’s office clients dropped in frequently and exchanged greetings with his secretary. Some visitors, however, have been more welcome than others. In recent years, to the mild disapproval of some locals, Berger let a chicken vendor set up shop in the back of the parking lot.

“He got a couple of tickets from the police for operating on the sidewalk,” Berger said. “I let him stand in the corner. But it didn’t work out because he kept expanding, from a stand to a larger table.” Eventually Berger told him to leave the lot. “He built a cabin and moved in there, or slept there. So I got rid of him.”


For Seth Brown, the investor who bought 111 Clarkson in September, the choice is a stark one: tear the house down, or make it financially viable. Brown said market forces will decide its fate. “The question becomes, can the house be restored and rented out or sold for more than what it would cost to restore it?”

In the parking lot, he added, there will be a new five or six story building with “high end” apartments. Brown plans for the apartments to have solar power, gardening plots and “tons of bike storage.” Adam Glassman at Property Buyers Group, who brokered the deal, guessed that the lot will now be filled with condos, and that Raub’s house will be demolished. “Financially, it makes sense to take it down,” he said.

Not everyone thinks economics should decide the property’s fate. “Powerful market forces will override any sense of community,” said Suzanne Spellen, who writes about Brooklyn architecture for the Brownstoner website. “I’d be really surprised if he kept the house. I’d have to go over there and shake his hand.”

Online, members of the community mourned the likely loss of so unique a house.

“This is very sad,” Robert Marvin, the longtime resident, wrote in an email. He has lived in the area since 1974. “I hope this alerts homeowners on this and other non-landmarked PLG [Prospect Lefferts Gardens] blocks to the importance of designation.”

Brown insisted that his new development – which will be added to his previous projects, such as a modern brownstone house in Park Slope – will fit the area. “I hate it when people build stuff that’s inappropriate for the neighborhood,” he said. “People who never want any change in neighborhoods are not going to like it. People who have been there for a long time will see that there will be more people around as a result, and more pressure for subway improvements.”

Spellen said she hopes someone will get to “salvage the goodies” inside the house “before the wrecking ball comes in.” And Berger said he would be taking the imported, European furniture once bequeathed by Phyllis Raub. “Some of the pieces I am told are very valuable,” Berger said. He said he is not sure where he will take his office next.

As he shopped the property around the market, Berger had not demanded of potential buyers retain the house. In the end, 111 Clarkson sold for nearly $3 million. “There’s no other way to feel but to feel sad, and nostalgic,” Berger said. “But life goes on.”


*A previous version of this article stated, incorrectly, that Robert Marvin had been president of the Prospect Lefferts Gardens Neighborhood Association. In fact, Marvin is a former president of the Lefferts Manor Association.

How Brooklyn Measures the Economy

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On Friday, the Bureau of Labor Statistics will post the national employment figures for October, including the number of jobs created and the unemployment rate.  These numbers—delayed by the recent government shutdown—are closely watched by economists, businessmen, and by many others as a gauge of how the American economy is doing and where it is headed.

But ordinary people have their own gauges. The Brooklyn Ink set out to see what everyday people watch in their daily life to determine how the economy is doing. Our staff went to 14 neighborhoods, from Bushwick to Park Slope, from Crown Heights to Dumbo. What we heard, of course, depended on individual circumstances. Joseph Benjamin, 61, from Brooklyn Heights, sees a troubled economy, and perhaps a view of Bill de Blasio’s “Two New Yorks.” “The rich are getting richer and the poor are getting poorer,” he said. “I bought a loaf of bread for $3.50 and I haven’t had a raise for six years.”

Though most people we interviewed saw the economy as troubled, some saw signs of hope. “People are getting new cars,” said Carlos, 29, a parking garage attendant in Fort Greene, “from Toyota to Lexus, Honda to Jaguar. They were driving older cars a few years ago, all beat up.”

This is not a scientific survey, of course. But maybe there are not just two New Yorks, but many. Here is what we found:

cheeseborough.finalJackie Cheeseborough, 64, retired, in Bedford-Stuyvesantarrow.down
“I look at grocery prices and the influx of affluent people coming into the neighborhood. It costs more now just to keep a home together.”

garcia.finalFerris Garcia, 26, Target employee, in Prospect Heightsarrow.up
“When I started seeing Mercedes coming through the neighborhood, I thought, either the economy is doing better or rich people are taking over.”

moreno.finalMilka Moreno, 37, hairdresser, in Flatbusharrow.down
“I used to have my own salon, but I had to sell it… it was pretty busy and it just went down, and down, and down. I’ve been here about two months, and people are struggling. They come in and ask the price, then just walk away. They’re looking for the cheapest price. They’re not getting their hair done, they’ll do it at home. I can’t blame them. It won’t get better.”

waldman.finalPeter Waldman, 50, balloon artist/entertainer, in Red Hookarrow.down
“I’ve been getting a buck [for each balloon] for 35 years. I used to get $100 an hour back in the 80’s, and upped my price to $150 in 2000. I get $200 for anything corporate or public and still people try to chew me down to less then $100 an hour.”

nicholson.finalDwayne Nicholson, 53, city transit project coordinator, in Crown Heightsarrow.up
About three months ago, the average price of a house around the corner from Nicholson’s house on Crown Street “went up by $60 something thousand dollars in two months… My neighbor mentioned it to me; I went on Zillow to check. It was shocking to see those numbers. I was like, ‘What? You’ve go to be joking.’”

greene.finalJames Greene Jr., 34, writer, in Bushwickarrow.side
“I guess, for me it’s the MTA. Other normal things don’t really spike up in price. I almost expect things to go up just over time. Also, another thing I notice is plane tickets.”

holstein.finalEric Holstein, 27, store manager/co-founder of Winter Warmers, in Park Slopearrow.up
“I know the economy’s good because of the amount of hat shops. You buy one hat and then you should be done.”

baffssan.finalTassan Baffssan, 55, cashier at B&E River Mini Market, in Gowanusarrow.down
“My business is going down. People only buy junk food now, chips, bread. Before, they would pay $30- $40 to buy a lot of stuffs, like cigarettes. People don’t smoke now. My sales of cigarette lost $700 a week. They don’t have money so they don’t smoke.”

jackson.finalLeola Jackson, 53, unemployed, in Bushwickarrow.side
“I judge it by if see more people shopping, if I see that prices are going down, if I hear that more programs are opening up, if there are more jobs out there that people can obtain, and just a little bit more sense of happiness.”

akbay.finalTony Akbay, 39, manager & owner of Faith Art Gallery, Dumboarrow.down
“Rent is too high, people put their money in rent, food, doctor. Art is the peoples’ sixth or seventh choice. Sometimes there were highs and lows; the art business now is very low.”

duffy.finalKenneth Duffy, 32, real estate agent, in Prospect Heightsarrow.up
“For us it’s the amount of people that are looking for a place and their budget. The amount of money people are putting down has definitely gone up, sometimes in cash. You see a lot of foreign investors, Chinese and Europeans mainly. In Prospect Heights, it’s like night and day from the last couple years. People are moving in and all these small businesses are opening up to serve them.”

johnson.finalEddie Johnson, 50, unemployed, in Brooklyn Heightsarrow.down
“Everything is high. A gallon of milk is now $5. Before it’s $2.”

Reported by the staff of the Brooklyn Ink.

Flatbush: An Albanian Mosque Struggles With its Heritage

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The three-story brick building on the corner of Albemarle and Rugby in Flatbush is so shrouded by two scarlet oaks that they cast a permanent shadow on much of the exterior. Long windowpanes bear a frosted finish, obscuring a look inside, sparking intrigue for passersby. The doors are locked. Beneath the veranda, inscribed in small black letters, the text reads, “Albanian American Islamic Center, Inc. EST 1972.”

It’s a Friday evening. Imam Roland Cinari hastens to unlock the mosque, his two little kids tugging on each arm, hyper from an eventful day at school. He was given the keys to the mosque seven years ago. Now at the age of 36, the young Imam is grappling with the question of how to keep the next generation of Albanians interested in Islam. “The masjid is the foundation, but you need a community,” says Imam Roland.

Once they all remove their shoes, he ushers his son and daughter inside, where they grab toy cars from a corner and begin to launch them across the prayer room. Otherwise, the place is quiet. About 80 to 90 Albanians had come for Jummah, Friday prayers accompanied by a sermon, earlier in the day. The Imam says a few others from different ethnic backgrounds joined as well. He considers that kind of turnout a sizable gathering. But throughout the week, the mosque remains mostly empty.

Imam Roland knows that he faces a major challenge. This is partly because Albanians have a complex relationship with faith. Albanian religiosity was fractured in 1967 when the Communist Party declared Albania the “world’s first atheistic state.” Both Islam and Christianity were forcefully excised from daily life during Enver Hoxha’s regime. Believers were imprisoned and religious leaders were hanged. Thousands of Albanians migrated to America that year to escape persecution, many settling in New York. One year later, Albanian immigrants in Flatbush began to congregate in the basements of churches, Arab mosques, and other public spaces. Finally, the community raised $122,000 to purchase this Victorian mansion in a neighborhood later designated as a historic district of Brooklyn in 1979.

The Albanian American Islamic Center, Flatbush (Aysha Choudhary/The Brooklyn Ink)

Imam Roland says that from the beginning, the mosque served not only as a place to practice religion, but as a cultural center for Albanians to rediscover their identity. Patriotism was palpable for these immigrants. They transformed their dismay over a homeland devastated by dictatorship into activism, in the form of demonstrations here in New York. The mosque’s first Imam, Isa Hoxha, had no formal religious education, “but he was a real patriot,” explains Imam Roland. Isa Hoxha had a saying, “There is no mother country without religion and there is no religion without a mother country.” Throughout the 70s, 80s, and until his death in 1997, Imam Hoxha strived to unite the Albanian community, regardless of faith.

Albanians who settled in America in the years after religion was banished were a devout group. However, their generation has since faded away. Imam Roland differentiates two kinds of Albanians that remain today. There are those of the Albanian diaspora, who escaped to Kosovo, Macedonia, and Montenegro early on, before coming to America. These people were able to continue practicing Islam freely in their temporarily adopted countries. When they moved to America, they brought religion with them.

But the Albanians who immigrated here after 1991, when the communist regime fell, never knew a different life than the one that had been forced upon them—devoid of their Muslim religion. And according to Imam Roland, they don’t experience the same desire to practice religion.

Imam Roland himself, meanwhile, is somewhat of an anomaly. The youngest of three siblings, his brother, sister, and parents worked at an ammunition factory in Poliçan while the Imam was still a child. Poliçan was an industrial city built around a factory that employed nearly 4,000 people. “In Albania, you were either a good working class communist, or you were against the regime,” he says. A 1966 government decree had ordered all citizens to change their names to “pure Albanian names,” so the distinction between ‘good’ and ‘bad’ was measured by whether or not an individual officially registered with the ruling party. Families like the Imam’s refused to do so and, as a result, were afforded almost no opportunities for a better life. They worked hard. “I remember, early in the morning, the noise of the factory. I can never forget it,” he says. 

His parents were never educated in religion, though they still believed in God. The Imam recalls a singular moment when his father made reference to Islam. They were walking past an ancient mosque and his father pointed to a minaret exclaiming, “Roland, look! That’s where they did the call to prayer.”

The regime fell just in time for the Imam to attend high school. Muslim missionaries rushed into the country, hoping to revive what was lost. Imam Roland attended a madrassa run by Turkish Muslims. He later studied business administration in Ankara, and there he also attended weekly sermons. He arrived in New Jersey in 2007 and promptly earned a masters in public administration. He was highly regarded by the Imam of a New Jersey Albanian mosque, for his recitation of the Quran and his devoutness. Soon after, he was appointed to the mosque in Flatbush.

And he took up the task to revive it. “My motto is integration without assimilation,” says the Imam. He means that Albanian Muslims should participate in American culture and become the best in their professional careers, but not forget where they came from. He worries that Albanians are prone to assimilating to the point where religion is no longer practiced and traditions are no longer honored.

Imam Roland Cinari with his two children, Amina and Haris (Aysha Choudhary/ The Brooklyn Ink)

Imam Roland introduced a youth initiative at the mosque one year ago, focused on the preservation of both culture and religion. He has organized a few events involving guest lectures at the mosque, usually by an Albanian English-speaking scholar, when possible. Sermons are followed by basketball games or arts and crafts. But the program hasn’t gained much steam. The Albanian American Islamic Center is governed by 10 board members, all of the older generation. Imam Roland says it’s been hard to communicate the importance of using resources to attract youth to people who get disturbed by kids running around the mosque. “Recent elections have resulted in a more open-minded board,” he says hopefully, his kids now clinging to both of his legs. Though still of the older generation, the new board turns out to be more persuadable regarding the youth initiative.

But young Albanians hold a different perspective. They tend to care more about their homeland than their homeland’s lost religion.

Dajana Alku, a Brooklyn College student, came to the U.S. with her family when she was 10 years old. She believes the government effectively erased any prospect of her practicing Islam. Dajana only knew a secular, democratic Albania. Still, she remembers her grandmother telling stories about government officials forcing people to drink water during Ramadan, to ensure they were not fasting. Extreme measures to remove religion ensured they would only identify strongly with their nationality. “There’s a very famous Albanian saying that goes Feja e shqiptarit eshte shqiptaria, which translates to “The religion of Albanians is Albanianism.” This had such a strong impact that even I, an Albanian born after the fall of communism, strongly identify with this saying,” says Dajana.

It appears that Imam Roland faces an uphill battle to salvage an Albanian identity that encompasses both Islam and culture. Flatbush was once home to a concentrated Albanian community. But throughout the decades, they’ve dispersed into other neighborhoods of Brooklyn. The Imam estimates about 50,000 people of Albanian ancestry live in Brooklyn. Though they exhibit strong ties to their homeland, it sometimes feels as though a comeback for the religion is a distant dream. How can he bring the mosque back to its beginnings, rooms brimming daily with worshippers?

Imam Roland emphasizes that his mosque functions as a cultural center first and foremost. Can a mosque that constitutionally requires all board members to be Albanian reach other groups that may influence religiosity of its community? In his answer, the Imam seems to suggest that this is not the plan. He seems unbothered that not many people outside Albanian circles know about his mosque. He who would rather not invite other groups, namely Tablighi Jamaat, whose missionary approach he deems “primitive.” Tablighi Jamaat is a nonpolitical group and many of its Bangladeshi and Pakistani members live in Flatbush, from which they travel from one mosque to another, passionately calling for unity among Muslims. “Albanians are not the most welcoming people,” says the Imam.

Was More Police the Answer to J’Ouvert’s History of Deadly Violence?

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Four men were shot and one was killed during last month’s West Indian Day celebrations in Brooklyn. In spite of the violence, the NYPD is calling its reimagined strategy for New York’s largest Caribbean festival a success.

It was, according to Detective Vincent Martinos of the 71st Precinct, the same procedures police use to protect Times Square on New Year’s Eve: Over 4,000 police officers deployed across the two-mile parade route. Thirteen checkpoints equipped with metal detectors and 204 light towers illuminated streets from Flatbush to Nostrand Avenue. Large backpacks and alcohol were prohibited. “We’re dealing with thousands of people, and drugs and alcohol lead to poor decision-making,” Detective Martinos said.

The city’s redoubled efforts come after the death of Carey Gabay, an attorney for Governor Cuomo, who was caught in gang-related crossfire and subsequently died from a gunshot wound to the head on the eve of J’Ouvert 2015. Despite the extra security, 2016 brought more of the same, including the senseless murders of a 17-year-old boy who was an unintended target of a gang-related shooting, and a 22-year-old woman killed for rejecting a man’s advances. In both years, there were also multiple shootings and stabbings that led to non-fatal injuries.

In a press conference on August 21, Mayor de Blasio announced plans to make this year’s J’Ouvert the “safest ever” by performing a security sweep along the route and forcibly holding off the pre-dawn festival, which has historically began at 4 am, until 6 am, in hopes of suppressing violence that may happen in the dark. The city also gave officers “discretion to act in various ways for quality of life enforcement throughout the day.” This included summonses and arrests. According to NYPD Chief of Patrol Terence Monahan, 7 people were arrested, compared to 12 people last year.

But one member of the conference expressed that the annual parade tends to receive a disproportionate amount of attention from the city and from the media. Council Member Jumaane Williams argued J’Ouvert has never been the most violent day in Brooklyn, noting 20 people alone were shot in the borough the weekend of August 19. Williams pleaded with city officials “to not use the memory of victims to push policies” that don’t make the community feel safer, and instead to use momentum from the parade to stay focused on gun violence, “because the weekend after, these communities will still be dealing with violence issues.”

Some community members are also not so enthusiastic about the enhanced security.

“They can attribute their success to whatever they want, but they also killed the parade. Black folks felt like they were under lockdown,” says Imani Henry, Executive Director of Equality for Flatbush (E4F).

According to E4F, these new security measures come in the wake of several reports of racial profiling and police harassment during J’Ouvert 2016. Henry recounted 4 incidents of racial profiling reported directly to E4F this year and says there are more.

“A police occupation already exists in Flatbush, so the potential for profiling and harassment only becomes greater at a parade with black and brown people,” says a cautious Henry. The group is suing the NYPD after it refused to disclose information requested through the Freedom of Information Law. E4F demanded to know the number and types of officers deployed, and other resources implemented in 2016. The NYPD responded with deployment numbers but maintained that any further information must be kept confidential for “public safety purposes.” Those purposes were not specified. Detective Martinos confirmed that the group is in fact entitled to the information and that the NYPD will release it eventually. Henry points out, “it is their duty to be transparent with the community.”

Throughout the parade, E4F tweeted several photos and videos of police sweeps and empty streets. Many complained of floodlights filling neighborhoods nowhere near the route. A white member of E4F reported getting through a checkpoint without being wanded, whereas black people in front of him were thoroughly checked.

Not everyone reported hostile behavior from officers. Nathaly Jackson, 28, said police were respectful and even dancing with revelers. The Boston native said she did not sense any aggression from police.

Andrew Clarke, a vendor working the parade for the first time, said he didn’t have an issue with the heavy police presence, but admitted some of his friends said that the event felt empty. They said “attendance has dwindled and the vibe that is usually present is no longer there.”

Many observers noted sparse crowds at this year’s parade. The West Indian American Day Carnival Association confirmed that attendance was down 50%, from 3 million last year to 1.5 million this year. The reasons behind the lower attendance are harder to know. “Clearly people stayed away,” laments E4F’s Imani Henry. But while he attributes the deserted streets of J’Ouvert to fear of police and the end of DACA looming, Detective Martinos traces the lack of attendance to fear of violence. “People were afraid and didn’t want to come out this year,” he says.

Eighteen year old reveler Cayee James remains conflicted. Though she feels the amount of policing was not necessary, she admits “it’s good to see they cared enough to not have violence” at the parade. “Still,” reflects James, “we get one night to celebrate our West Indies culture but can’t do it the way we want to.”


A Month Before Vote, Mathieu Eugene is Confident of Re-Election

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At the office of Council Member Mathieu Eugene, it’s business as usual. Flatbush locals are seated inside the waiting area, listening for their name to be called, and hopefully for an issue to be resolved. The Council Member returns from a few meetings, shaking his constituents’ hands and conversing jovially with them in French Creole. 

Exactly one month before the election, Eugene isn’t sweating it. He earned 40% of the vote in the Democratic primaries, ten percentage points ahead of his opponent, Brian Cunningham. Cunningham has decided to run in the general election as the Reform Party candidate, but Eugene, a potential third-termer, is confident. “I’m convinced I’m going to win,” Eugene says, as he leans back into his maroon armchair.

Today, he’ll launch his next initiative, ‘District 40 Cares,’ a community drive for hurricane and earthquake relief in Puerto Rico, the Caribbean Islands, and Mexico. It’s the first formal effort by the district, where many are from the affected areas, to provide direct aid to the victims.

Eugene says a strong sense of déjà vu moved him to take action. “This program is a moral obligation for me,” he says, recounting the huge devastation caused by the earthquake in his homeland of Haiti in 2010. Numerous Puerto Rican constituents have described to him the harrowing details of utter destruction of the island, families they haven’t been able to contact, and sheer lack of food and water. He knows the uphill battles these people face and says he feels compelled to “fulfill the American tradition to respond to tragedy.”

Eugene’s political rival, Brian Cunningham, has tweeted his support of the Council Member’s relief efforts, but the alliance ends there. Eugene is unabashed in his criticism of Cunningham, whom he says lacks the experience to hold office. Cunningham was a member of Community Board 14 for more than a year when he announced his candidacy, but for Eugene, that’s not enough.

Eugene’s main complaint is that Cunningham did not “respect the process” after losing in the Democratic primary. “The one that flips — is that the person you want? It’s not easy to get people to vote in New York City, people sacrifice a day off work to vote, or wait in long lines after work, which is why we have to respect the vote.”

Despite his challenger’s supposed shortcomings, Eugene says he’s not taking anything for granted. He’s convinced his “consistent track record” is something his constituents can rely on. After all, they were the people that urged him to go into politics in the first place. “The community pushed me,” he says. Like Cunningham, Eugene also ran for City Council after a stint on Community Board 14, with one key difference—he was on the board for a decade.

What happens if he doesn’t win?

“There is no such thing,” says Eugene.

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