St. Clair, Smith Street's Oldest Tenant, Gone for Good

When the St. Clair diner, at the corner of Smith and Atlantic, underwent a renovation a few years back, the owners uncovered an old metal sign beneath the newer signage. They didn't tear down the old sign, just covered it up with the even newer signage. At the time, I wondered when I'd ever seen the hidden original sign again.

Well, I didn't have to wait long. The new signage has been taken down, and the inside gutted. Signs in the window say the St. Clair is being renovated again. But in three months, I've never seen any work going on inside. The diner is gone for good. The space was bought by Joe Sitt of Thor Equities, the guy who destroyed Coney Island. It's supposed to reopen as a retail outlet.

This is a shame. Though it never looked like much, the St. Clair is one of the oldest businesses in South Brooklyn. It opened 92 years ago. Almost nothing in the immediately area (maybe Staubitz Butchers) comes close. Jonathan Letham, the novelist who grew up nearby, has paid tribute to it. "The St. Clair restaurant has been here forever," he said in a 2003 New York Times article. "It's a very, very typical New York diner. People will say, 'Oh, we don't have a Greek diner.' They don't realize this is here. It's been here so long that it's totally invisible; no one sees it. So then a new Greek diner opens up down the street and it's exactly the same and all the hipsters go there for cheap eggs."

While there's been a diner here since 1920, it seems it was called the St. Clair only since 1967. It was run by the Costa family from that year until 2007, when Spiro Katehis bought it and gave it an overhaul.

Knowing Sitt, I expect this time he will rip down the old sign and toss it in the trash.

Corn on Smith Street

A peculiar Greenstreets program has cropped up on Smith Street in Brooklyn, near the Bergen subway stop. It's an elevated, stone-lined garden called Sassian's Maize-Land. Sounds like an agricultural theme park.

Sign sez: "In the 17th century this area was part of a native cornfield cultivated by tthe local Marechkawich Indians. It was know as the "Sassian's (Sower's) Maize-Land" and it extended roughly from what is now Atlanntic Ave. to Baltic Street and from Court to Hoyt Street. This summer we are planting a traditional three sisters garden in this spot with corn, bean, and squash varieties that are part of the heritage of native people from this region."

The "field" is a public art project by the artist Christina Kelly. She's planted another garden in Canarsie. Who gets the corn?

Boerum Hill Bar Boat Sez "Buddy, We Don't Want Your Dime"

Over the past six months, a number of nice people have recommended that I visit Boat, a bar on Smith Street in Boerum Hill. So I tucked the information in the back of my head, and waited for an opportune time.

One recent day, as I exited the subway onto Smith, I remembered the repeated endorsements. I had just returned from running errands in Manhattan. I was laden with bags and thirsty. The day was warm. So I decided to walk a few blocks out of my way and patronize Boat. Before I did, I checked my wallet. I had only a buck or two; I had bought groceries at several stores, leaving my pockets full of change. I hate going to ATMs unnecessarily (every visit runs you a fee), so I counted out the change—more than enough to buy a beer.

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Rolling at the Golden Eagle

Recently, the old Professional Building at 299 Smith Street was vacated and gutted, removing the low-ceilinged warren of doctors' offices that for so long inhabited the address. I chanced to glance inside the building the other day and was amazed at what I saw. Beautiful decorative tin walls and high tin ceiling—covered all those years. Surely, this space has not always been a dull physicians cooperative.

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229 Dean Street in Happier Days

Came across a tax photo of old 229 Dean Street, former mystery house of Boerum Hill, now in the safe hands of a new owner. Rather looks like a lot's been lost. Cornice is gone. The cast-iron fence in front is different. Doors are different. And, of course, three holes were punched in the facade for air conditioners. Too bad that great lamppost is no longer there.

229 Dean Street Has Nice New Owners; Freakshow to End

Earlier this month, I posted something about the seedy goings-on at 229 Dean Street, an island of weirdness on any otherwise stately block of Boerum Hill. Weird comings and goings, severed barbie heads, mysterious explosions, missing air conditioners, off detritus on the stoop and sidewalk—this house has been a source of uneasy speculation in the neighborhood for some time. 

Well, that may all be at an end. An era of normalcy has possible dawned at the shady address. We noted earlier that, according to the Corcoran site, the building was "in contract" for $1.6 mil. We now hear that that was indeed the truth and the sad, neglected structure now has a respectable new daddy. Expect some sprucing up of 229 Dean facade in the months to come.

The formers owners, now gone, appear to have had a thing about air conditioners. We all know that the one in front has been missing for some time, the space where it was used as a kind of display case for curious statuary. Word is, however, that the prior resident also took all of the through-wall a/c units with him, leaving giant holes open to the outside on the back of the house. And in the middle of winter, too! Brisk.

 

The owner did, though, leave plenty of junk for the new owners to sort through and discard, including lots of broken glass in the super-scary basement and plenty of scrawling on certain walls.  

 

Alas, no severed Barbie head was found.

229 Dean Street, Creepy Central of Boerum Hill

Explosions, crack house rumors, Sainted Mary, police vans, missing air conditioners, severed Barbie heads. What goes on at 229 Dean Street?

The Boerum Hill brickface, on a handsome block, first caught the attention of Lost City when a big Barbie head was displayed, like a museum piece, in a hollowed-out cavity that once contained an air-conditioning unit. (See below.) Soon after it was replaced by a statue of the Virgin Mary and a couple religious candles. But the initial post was enough to unearth all sorts of comments and information, including that "There was an explosion at this house back in December that blew out the front and back windows on the parlor floor," possibly caused by the manufacture of crack; that the crack story was bogus and the building owner was suing the paper that printed it; that a "police van [was] parked right outside" on one occasion.

I had forgotten about the building when a reader wrote in recently to report: "I noticed some odd stuff tonight outside of 229 Dean Street... And when I say odd stuff, I mean, old turntable, stereo equipment, old super 8mm projector, a box of PAL VHS tapes (from the U.K.) including all of Twin Peaks on VHS and non-playable on U.S. VCRs. And lots of CDs and cases beneath that. Up in the window next to the odd windowbox you mention is now a huge Hells Angels flag. I usually rumage cool old electronics like this, but all of this stuff was beat and looked like it was covered by dust. WTF is up with these folks? Lights on and bright at 3:00am at this place as well. Grew up in this city and this place is skeevey to say the least. Reminds me of every junkie den I have ever seen. Even moreso now."

So, dutiful citizen and blogger that I am, I checked it out. I didn't take a picture, though, because the scene just scared me shitless. That is one creepy-ass house. The Hells Angel flag was gone. Instead, there was a clear view through the windowbox into the brightly lit house, where a bare bulb hung from the ceiling. One can also see through the windowbox that there is nothing in there, no furnishings, no nothing, just open space. Two young men left the house. They were followed by a pair of eyes that peered through the wooden shutters that completely cover the two ground-floor windows. Just like in the movies, I swear, eyes peeking through shutters parted by two fingers. Then one of the men returned, looking over his shoulder as he did. This is not a wholesome house.

According to the Corcoran site, the building is "in contract" for $1,595,000. Do the guys inside know that?

That Thing on Warren and Smith Almost Done

That thing on Warren and Smith is almost done. I don't know what it's called, or what it is, but they been working on it for more than a year. It's your typical, garden-variety horror, the kind you see in Brooklyn all the time now. A glass and metal tumor attached to a conventional brick base, the latter meant to achieve harmony and cohesion with the historic character of the neighborhood, and blah, blah, blah. Only it doesn't. Because it's a Frankenstein monster ruled by the modernist cancer on the roof.

One nice thing about the big, stupid thing. It's got a Christmas tree on top! Hey, it distracts me from the eyesore that is the building!

Hank's Saloon—Health House

Lowdown Boerum Hill dive Hank's Saloon is putting its second floor to good use as a billboard. For Health House. Nice synchronicity. You can ruin your health on the first floor and then get instruction on how to restore it on the second floor.

Sorry about the crappiness of the photo. I was on the bus. And it was raining.

Lost City's Guide to Boerum Hill

This is the eighth of Lost City's guides to the shards of living history and cultural potency that remain in various New York neighborhoods. The tours are published occasionally. Previous guides can be found along the right-hand navigation bar.

First off, let me say that I consider the western border of Boerum Hill to run straight down Smith Street. I know that there is some dispute about this. Some say it stretches to Court Street. But I suspect this is the work of real estate brokers who know the listing "Cobble Hill" will fetch them more money that "Boerum Hill." Furthermore, I don't know any merchant on the east side of Court who thinks they're part of Boerum Hill.

I am perfectly in accord with the other borders: State Street at the north end, Fourth Avenue to the east and Warren Street to the south. For many years, I considered the neighborhood a kind of Johnny-come-lately wannabe area, riding on the fast-gentrifying coattails of Cobble Hill and Carroll Gardens. In the last five years though, though many bike trips through its street, I've come to love the place and recognize it as having a distinct character of its own.

THE NEW ST. CLAIR RESTAURANT: This diner is as good a place as any to begin a Boerum Hill tour. Founded in 1920 at the corner of Smith and Atlantic, it's one of the oldest, consistently operating businesses in the area and has seen many waves of incomers, from Italians and Irish to Hispanic peoples to Yuppies. It's been through a few transformations in that time, the most recent being in 2008. So it doesn't look very old. But its spirit is.

THE STATE STREET HOUSES: Walk north to State Street. The block of State between Smith and Hoyt contains 23 beautifully preserved Renaissance Revival brownstones dating from the 1840s to the 1870s. The group is landmarked.

CHURCHES: Head back to Atlantic. At the north corner with Bond, there's the stark Byelorussian Autocephalic Orthodox Church, which is kind of simple and plain, but which I love because it's called the Byelorussian Autocephalic Orthodox Church. Down the block is the House of the Lord Pentecostal Church, a nice Romanesque Revival job. It used to be the Swedish Pilgrims' Evangelical Church, when there were tons of Swedes along Atlantic.


SYNAGOGUE: Look across the street at 368 Atlantic at what used to be Talmud Torah Beth Jacob Joseph. The slim 1917 structure was an antique store for a long time. Now it's something tacky called the Deity Lounge. You need an invitation to gain admittance. Eesh.

EX-LAX BUILDING: Walk down to 423-443 on the North side of Atlantic. Yes, Ex-Lax, the king of all laxatives, had its factory here. Even though the huge building was convented to co-ops in 1981, the doorway still proudly proclaims the address' former use. I wonder how it must feel to say you live in the Ex-Lax Building.

TWINS PIZZA: OK, here comes my favorite part of Boerum Hill, the remnants of what used to be "Downtown Caughnawaga." In the middle part of the 20th century, this area was settled by a large collection of Mohawk families, who had moved from a Quebec reservation in the 1920s to take jobs building New York's new skyscrapers. They were particularly adept at this task, as they were not afraid of the dizzying heights at which they had to work. Joseph Mitchell chronicled their lives in his essay "The Mohawks of High Steel." Turn a half-block north of Atlantic on Nevins to the Twins Pizza store. This address, 75 Nevins Street, used to be the Wigwam, a dark bar favored by the Mohawk workers. Over the door was the slogan "The Greatest Iron Workers in the World Pass Thru These Doors." Canadian beer could easily be had.


HANK'S SALOON: Head down Atlantic to Hank's Saloon, at Third Avenue. This rather scary-looking, low-slung dive bar has enough character on its own to merit a mention. It's of further interest, however, as another bar once popular with the Mohawks. It was called the Doray Tavern before it became Hank's, and some Indian workers lived upstairs, above the bar.



CUYLER PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH: Walk down to Pacific Street to No. 358 between Hoyt and Bond. This former church—now a private residence with a landmarked facade—was where the Mohawks went to worship for decades. There was a yearly pow-wow, with traditional dances, prayers and smoke signals. It was built in the 1890s.



NEW YORK TIMES WAREHOUSE: On the block of Third Avenue between Dean and Pacific is a highly ornate, neo-Classical warehouse befitting the proud nature of its former owner: the New York Times. Notice the various noble friezes at various points on the building.

THE SIDE STREETS: As you roam around Boerum Hill, be sure to take note of the curious array of short and unusual brick structures that line Hoyt, Bond and Nevins Streets between State and Bergen. Unlike Cobble Hill, which tucked its carriage house and stables on the east-west streets, reserving the north-south veins like Clinton and Henry for grand brownstones, Boerum Hill seems to have employed its east-west thoroughfares such as Dean and Bergen for displaying the public face of its architecture. The workaday structure meant for storing stuff were put Nevins et al. Today, this makes for fun viewing as you turn corners and confront odd-job one-story and two-story structures, now converted into quaint homes.



THE BROOKLYN INN: Be sure to make time for a beer at the Brooklyn Inn, at the corner of Hoyt and Bergen. One of the oldest watering holes in the borough, it has retained much of its 19th-century architectural details and feel, and has an invitingly anonymous atmosphere.


108 WYCKOFF STREET: An impromptu piece of urban, outdoor art. Half the three-story home is caked with a near-decades worth of tiles, sequins, mirrors and do-dads, all applied one by one by artist Susan Gardner, who lives inside. It's a delight.


ZIAD'S DELI: Head back to Smith, just north of Bergen. For me, and many others, Boerum Hill is Jonathan Letham Land, an area depicted in colorful detail in the writer's novels "Motherless Brooklyn" and "The Fortress of Solitude." Ziad's is a nothing-special deli, except that it was the basis of the deli Zeod's, which the hero of "Motherless Brooklyn" frequently visited. The Brooklyn Inn also makes an appearance in the book.

Progress on the Wyckoff Wonder

It was back in March 2007 that I first discovered the wild and wonderful bejeweled address of 108 Wyckoff Street in Boerum Hill, which artist Susan Gardner has been slowly covering with colorful tiles and beads since 2001. I thought that, two years later, it was time to reinspect the evolving mosaic.


The facade of the building remains pretty much the same as it was two years ago (though there are more posters of Obama in the window). But considerable work has been done on the wrought-iron fence that fronts the property. Half the fence is now encrusted with a swarm of colorful and mirrored chips and shards—flowers, grapes, leaves, vines, fruit, checkboards, and other less specifiable things. And on top of many of the posts's are delightful plastic butterflies and bits of fern. Nice touch.

Details: The Brooklyn Inn

I sometime feel people don't appreciate the City's unique and timeworn places because they don't take the time to look around and fully take them in. Toward that end, here are a few shots of The Brooklyn Inn in Boerum Hill.

Barbie Cast Down!

Readers of this blog may remember, about last year at this time, an item about a curious display built into the facade of a Boerum Hill home. At 229 Dean Street, a rectagular space once reserved for an air-conditioner had been faced off with glass in the fashion of a display case. Inside was place a statuette of the Virgin Mary and—the severed head of a giant plastic Barbie doll! (See below.)

The bit of strangeness was picked up by other sites at the time and much commented on. Perhaps too commented on. Because, one year later, Barbie has been banished! The Blessed Virgin is still there. But she has no foxy roommate anymore. Instead, she's framed by two tacky religious candles (above). It makes for distinctly less arresting eye candy. Otherwise the building looks exactly the same.

Next Scheduled Old Sign Discovery: 2035

As South Brooklyn folk know, the old St. Clair Restaurant at the corner of Atlantic and Smith was recently given a redo, complete with shiny new sign. Between the time when the old sign was being taken down and the new one installed, an even older sign (see far below) was briefly revealed. Such "reveals" are quite common in these days of widespread construction and renovation. Old signs, it seems, never die. They're just covered up.

Walking by the diner recently, I peered closely at the space between the new sign and the awning and—sure enough!—it became clear as day that the builders has not taken down the very oldest sign. They just left it there and built over it.

That means that some day in the future, when the latest owners of the St. Clair decide to renovate the restaurant anew, Brooklynites will once again be stunned and surprised by the uncovering of the original brown-and-cream-colored metal sign. The cycle continues and the archaeological dig that is New York City takes on one more layer.

The New New St. Clair Restaurant

The old New St. Clair Restaurant sign is gone, and so is the old, old, original St. Clair sign that was uncovered briefly, and here is the new New St. Clair Restaurant sign. Not so bad. Glad the new owners kept the old name, and, taking the sign's aesthetics as face value, they seem to be trying to retain the spirit of the diner. The color scheme of brown, red and orange? A bit '70s. But at least it ain't bank branch blue.

A Clair Sign

The old St. Clair Restaurant—which recently closed after 87 years of occupying a corner at Atlantic Avenue and Smith Street, and will reopen soon under the guideance of the owners of the Carroll Gardens Classic Diner—is currently revealing a bit of history.

A watchful reader tipped Lost City off to the disclosure of an old sign hidden beneath the St. Clair's most recent wraparound banner. Only part of it is on view, but its clearly the word "restaurant," and probably is an older St. Clair sign that covered covered up some decades ago. It will doubtless be covered up or taken down altogether, since the new diner is supposed to be "trendy."

Hail Barbie, Full of Grace

No. 229 Dean Street in Boerum Hill offers something in the way of visual interest its neighbors don't: a humorous/blasphemous (depending on your point of view) display window in which a statuette of the Virgin Mary and a giant severed Barbie head share a few cubic feet of oxygen. The 3' by 2' space was carved out exactly between the two first story windows and is easily viewable from the street. There are no other signs of weirdness about the house.

Mary and Barbie are not exactly strangers. A few years back, an artwork that involved a Barbie doll and the Virgin of Guadalupe was exhibited in Santa Fe. So there's more than enough history there to justify their sharing a small studio apartment.