Heimesch Coffee Shop

The individuality of New York's many neighborhood is one of the City's great strengths. Only in Orthodox Jewish Borough Park (and maybe a couple other areas) would the coffee shop arm of a gas station be called the Heimesche Coffee Shop. For those who don't know their Yiddish, Heimesch (also spelled Haimish) means cozy or homey. This particular coffee shop doesn't look very cozy. But what the hell. It's the intention, right?

Four Season Cleaner's Past Season

A peek under the plastic awning of the nondescript Four Seasons Cleaners on Church Avenue in Borough Park reveals that it was once the much-more-interesting Steve -N-Allen French Cleaners. Fantastic sign, particularly the way the "French" is incorporated into the "C."

The best part of the signage, however, is this little guy, a tailor with slicked-back black hair ready to serve you. Something's been covered up above and below the tailor, probably advertisements of services that are no longer provided.

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The Cornice of a Cornice Maker

I was walking down 13th Avenue in upper Borough Park when I looked up at the cornice of an old building. Because that's what I do—look up at cornices. You often find clues about the history of the structure up there, the date of erection or the name of the builder.

This time I saw something I'd never seen before. The words on the cornice indicated that this had once been the address of...a cornice maker! The Brooklyn Union Cornice and Roofing Company, to be exact. There's something mind-bending about seeing a cornice maker's cornice, I've got to tell you.

Cornice making was enough of a booming concern in the 19th century that the practitioners had their own union. The Tin, Sheet Iron and Cornice Workers' International Association for formed in 1888, largely through the efforts of Robert Kellerstrass, who had started a similar local outfit in Peoria. The union joined the ALF in 1889. It's welcome was short, however. The Panic of 1893 weakened the union's finances, and the AFL revoked its charter in 1896. It reformed as the Amalgamated Sheet Metal Workers' International Association and was rechartered by the AFL in 1899. No more "Cornice" in the title. 

When I first saw this building, I thought it had been a place where the cornices were made. But it's not a very large structure, and not suited to the creation of cornices, which are not tiny things. So I now this this was perhaps once the home of one of the Locals of the bygone cornice workers' union. 

Borough Park's Old Crown Deli Is Gone

I was walking down 13th Avenue, the main shopping drag of Borough Park, and was shocked to find this gelato joint in the space held for decades by the bedrock glatt kosher Crown Deli. It apparently opened a year ago.

Crown Deli has been an anchor business on the street. It was a classic Jewish deli, with all that entails, and did a big catering business. I often went there after visiting my wife's great-aunt, who lived on 13th Avenue.

The Deli was one of many businesses owned by the wealthy Orthodox Jewish Rubashkin family. You may remember the name. The family ran into a heap a trouble a few years ago when Agriprocessors, the huge Kosher slaughterhouse and meat processing plant they owned in Postville, Iowa, was raided by U.S. government in 2008 for a host of violations. Among the charges: mistreatment of cattle, child labor violations and the use of hundreds of illegal immigrant workers. The company went into bankruptcy and was sold.

I remember walking past Crown during those days and reading a sign in the window to the effect that that Rubashkin family was being persecuted. In 2010, Sholom Rubashkin, the former manager of the meat plant, was sentenced to 27 years in jail.

Crown Deli, at 4909 13th Avenue, was run by Rivka Rabashkin, wife of family patriarch Aaron. Founded in 1960, it had a reputation not as a going concern, but as a sort of soup kitchen, with Rivka feeding for free anybody who was hungry. But it was close several times for health violations in recent years. I can not discover what ultimately did the place in, but have to imagine it was the culmination of the family's many troubles.

The place had a great neon sign, though it was old and never lit up. The metal support is still there, and now holds up the gelato sign.

A Good Sign: A to Z Luggage

This Borough Park business, on New Utrecht Avenue, is defunct. Steamer trunks!

Love the way they abbreviate "Manufacturers."

Glatt Diner

The Orthodox Jewish community is very industrious in created culinary options for itself that match what are available to the non-kosher. There's kosher pizzerias, kosher Chinese, kosher sushi, kosher steak houses, kosher food stands at the various ballparks, kosher Thai, and the list goes on.

But here's one that I hadn't know about. Kosher diner! The Glatt Diner, all worked out to look like a classic silver diner car, is on New Utrecht Avenue in Borough Park. It says on the side that it's "One of Brooklyn's Most Famous Eateries Since 1947." Maybe so. I've never known about it, though. And it looks rather newer than that. They got all the regular diner food, but also a heck of a lot of Chinese selections and a Schwarma section on the menu.

It's open until midnight most nights, and 1 AM on Thursdays—night-owl hours for the Orthodox community. But it's closed on Fridays and Saturdays, of course. And of all the street chef figures in New York, this one's gotta be unique: a red-jacketed waiter with a yarmulke.

Big Cup, Big Cone

In Chinatown, above, and Borough Park, below. These guys should get together.

A Good Sign: Holtzman & Paris Meats & Poultry and Paskesz' Kosher Candies

Actually two. But they are side by side on 13th Avenue in Borough Park, Brooklyn, so I put them together. To me, they look like they might have been made by the same sign company around the same time.

Don't Fade Away

13th Avenue, Borough Park—home of the faded, hand-painted sign.

The one above says "Becky's," in case you can't read it.

Brach's, below, appears to have stolen Sym's slogan.

The Coat Gallery

The Coat Gallery of 13th Avenue in Brooklyn has a swingin', mod, '60s look not seen very often in New York anymore. The large, oval front windown, bisected by the over glass of the door, just kind of, you know, blows my mind. And the sign's an oval, too! No harsh corners at this corner business.

Pants, Shirts, Shirts, Pants

Pants. Shirts. Everyone needs them. You'll find them at Wallach's of 13th Avenue, in Borough Park. Also jackets. And, yes, slacks.

Wooden Phone Booth Sighting: Miele Pharmacy

Now, this is a real find. I had no idea it existed. By pure chance, the other day I passed by the corner of 15th Avenue and 42nd Street the other day and saw an old Pharmacy sign. Big deal. I've seen a hundred like them. While old-fashioned pharmacy signs often hang around, evoking times gone by, pharmacy interiors are regularly updated and sterilized, leaving little taint of the past.

No so with this treasure, which the owner said has opened before 1900 and is the oldest pharmacy in Borough Park (the current owners have been there 40 years). Everything was as it must have been 60, 70 years ago. Wooden shelves lines the walls, climbing up to the ceiling. A rolling ladder hung on one set of shelving. The ceiling was tin, the floor was tile. A coin-operated scale stood near the door. A couple low shelving units punctuated the floor layout. There was one of those sloping wooden racks that hold greeting cards. The owner stood behind a long wooden counter near the back, little wire racks of gum and mints next to him, behind him another wall of shelves holding prescriptions and such.


Then I turned around and, lo and behold! Not one, but two wooden phone booths! Holy moly! The motherload. And in a pharmacy. I think that's a first for Lost City. Past wooden phone booth sightings have been in restaurants, bars and hotels only. And I had come just in time: the owner said the last remaining operating booth had just gone kaput; neither of them worked anymore and he was going to put them up for sale. A shame.


The shelves were loosely stocked; there was very little to buy. I wondered how the place stayed in business. (Copious local prescriptions?) If they must sell the booths, I hope they get a pretty penny for them, and that they sell them to someone who will restore and use them in another business.

Art Flowers, Artful Display

There's something special about this 13th Avenue flower shop in Borough Park, and it's not the facade or sign—though both are those are special, as is the name of the place, Art Flower.


No, it's the window display, the like of which you won't find anywhere else in New York City. Not content to work with mere Barbie and Ken mannequins, the owners have recreated a genuine Orthodox Jewish wedding. The ceremonial garb is quite authentic looking, and the details are impressive—the glass and bottle of wine, the chuppah, the wedding contract, the sidelocks. The men are wearing the long frock-coat garments called bekishes, and shtreimels, the distinctive flat fur donuts that serve as hats on special occasions.

About the sunglasses worn by one attendant, I think he just wants to be cool.

Two Notable Shoe Repair Shops

Shoe Repair Shops are rebels in a retail City that is fast falling into lockstep conformity.

They are always Mom & Pop operations; conglomerates don't seem to see much future in the trade. And these Moms & Pops don't seem to care what anyone thinks. If the store is ramshackle and disorganized, who cares? If it's dusty and outdated, so what? Will they do more business if they put in some sconces? Will people suddenly have more shoes to repair? These merchants seem to think not.

Shoe Repair shops don't need much room. They will fit in any hole in the wall. Very often, in Manhattan, they snatch up extremely narrow spaces. Or they'll be found in the shabbiest, out-of-the-way corner of a subway station. In the outer boroughs, they can take on even more peculiar personalities.

Take a look at Herman's Shoe Repair in Borough Park. The sign is small, and in English and Hebrew. (It's an observant shop; closed Saturdays.) Inside, the dust is busy settling. There are old shoe-repair-related tools and contraptions that belong in the Smithsonian. At some point, long ago, the folks at O'Sullivan Heels talked the owner into pasting stickers for the product all over the store. (Humphrey O'Sullivan was an Irish immigrant who received the first patent for a rubber heel for shoes in 1899.)




I did not ask more because the owner of the shop was dead asleep in his chair behind the counter.



Shoebiz gets even more idiosyncratic in nearby Ditmas Park. This business on Cortelyou Road is done out what can only be called a shack. A stand-alone shanty, barely there, surrounded by fine residential homes. Not only are shoes fixed in this cubby hole, but watches are repaired and keys made. From a cardboard box outside, you can nab a new pair of footwear for $5. Or a shirt or two. Or make a phone call. They also make custom shoes.