CB2 Board Member Takes Dock Street Dumbo Project to Wood Shed

Andrew Stengel, a member of the Brooklyn’s Community Board #2 and its Land Use Committee and Dumbo resident, and who opposes Two Trees' Brooklyn Bridge-blocking Dock Street Dumbo project, which, despite local protests, is on its way to being approved, has written an open letter decrying the decision to let the building go forward. The letter was first printed on DumboNYC. I reprint it in full here, because it's so damn good, and it tells everyone what they need to know about this deeply wrong development, and the deeply perverted process that led to its getting the green light.

An Open Letter on the Proposed Dock Street Dumbo Project:

I am a Dumbo resident who sits on Brooklyn’s Community Board #2 and its Land Use Committee. I oppose the Dock Street Dumbo project, and when the Uniform Land Use Review Procedure (ULURP) application was before the our committee I proposed a resolution—that passed 10-1 with two abstentions —- to limit the development on the site to no higher than the 75-foot-high Brooklyn Bridge roadway, as the community board decreed unanimously in 2004. I am also the person who made the Freedom of Information (FOIL) request that resulted in the release of several troubling documents by New York City’s School Construction Authority (SCA).

The Dock Street developer and their high-priced lawyer-lobbyist-public relations retinue have claimed the project’s opposition is limited to a few people whose views of the Brooklyn Bridge are threatened. That is false. (For the record, my apartment does not face the Brooklyn Bridge.)

The opposition is about appropriate context in an area immediately adjacent to a National Historic Landmark where there are currently one- and two-story buildings, as well as large appropriations by New York City, i.e., taxpayer money, without what any sane person could claim is due diligence.

The Dock Street proposal is 18 stories tall, two stories higher than the 2004 version, and would rise to over 200 feet with mechanical. In addition, $400,00 in lobbying and undisclosed campaign fundraising by intermediaries raise the potential and ugly issue of pay-to-play politics.

I was heartened to read the coverage of the recent New York City Council hearing on Dock Street Dumbo and the attention paid to the documents I obtained from SCA. For those who are unfamiliar with FOIL, the law’s intent is actually written into the statute: “The legislature hereby finds that a free society is maintained when government is responsive and responsible to the public, and when the public is aware of governmental actions.”

I filed the FOIL request because, as a taxpaying resident of New York City, I want to know how DOE allocated nearly $44 million to a public middle school and why it chose Dock Street Dumbo as the best site, as written in its Five-Year Capitol Plan released in November 2008.

Note to members of the New York City Council: be careful what you vote for because you may get it—without having all the information necessary to make your decision.

The FOIL request, which was made five months ago almost to the day, was actually two similar requests of the New York City Department of Education (DOE) and New York City School Construction Authority (SCA). I asked for all documents relating to a new middle school in Brooklyn’s District 13 or a new middle school at the Dock Street Dumbo Site dating back to 2004.

Why did the Council hearing not focus on documents from DOE? Because DOE did not turn over a single page of material relating to my request. Instead, DOE sent five pages of correspondence relating to a middle school in District 14. That is despite the conclusion in DOE’s Five-Year Capitol Plan (page 23) that: “The analysis indicates that five districts in Brooklyn will see growth over the next five years. District 13, contains a substantial surplus of space given current enrollment levels but is projected to need a school building in the DUMBO/Navy Yard/Fort Greene area. This is primarily due to projected housing growth.” And, the plan allocates $43.83 million to “PROJECT #1 @ DOCK ST.” (appendix C-7).

DOE obviously based this on something. The question is what and what are they potentially hiding?

And, thanks to SCA’s FOIL response, we know that the developer made SCA “a best and final offer” on May 20, 2008. (As an aside, Jed Walentas attempted to self-invoke one of the few exceptions to FOIL in that term sheet; at least SCA had the common sense to ignore that bogus claim.) That was the oldest document that SCA offered despite my request dating back to 2004. If that was the “best and final offer,” where are the records of prior negotiations? Are we to conclude that SCA did no due diligence as to alternative existing sites prior to entering into negotiations?

SCA has continually made the claim of a cost savings at Dock Street because a “core and shell” is being provided by the developer. But, when pressed at the recent hearing, SCA vice president Ross Holden admitted he couldn’t calculate it. Even if cost savings were not phantom, it would be moot if existing vacant buildings are considered for a middle school. Holden also admitted, “No one at all came to the SCA with a recommendation that would provide us with the…school at minimal costs.”

Contrary to SCA’s attitude it is their responsibility to find the best location for a middle school at the best deal for the City. Again, contrary to their assertion, several members of the community identified alternative existing sites for a potential school that SCA did not consider, including: One Brooklyn Bridge Place, which is in Brooklyn Bridge Park; the recently closed St. Charles Borroemo School on Sydney Place; and 470 Vanderbilt Avenue, which has over 700,000 square feet of vacant space. (One paper claimed that One Brooklyn Bridge could not house a school because that use is not included in the park plan. While correct, neither does the current zoning at Dock Street allow for a school, hence the need for the zoning changes. Just as Dock Street is going through ULURP, the park plan can be amended by the state.)

The required timeline for a agency response to a FOIL request is 20 days. Both DOE, which ignored my query, and SCA responded late. FOIL also allows for an appeal for denial of access to records, which I made on March 3. Agencies have 10 business days to reply to an appeal. The only response I received was from DOE on April 23, noting that it would conduct another search with a response for May 25.

DOE and SCA have yet to comply fully with my original FOIL request. However, the timeline for ULURP requires a vote in the City Council 50 days after the receiving the report by the City Planning Commission. That would be on or about June 12. I have now taken the last step under the law to compel DOE and SCA to respond. The silence from DOE and SCA leave the impression that they are trying to run out the clock until after the vote.

Sunday’s New York Times featured a column from Jim Dwyer that pointed out campaign contributions to New York City Councilwoman Melinda Katz, Chair the Land Use Committee. Dwyer wrote that the contributions were made: “Just before new rules severely limited campaign contributions by companies doing business with the city.” While there are new rules that limit the campaign contributions by individuals who are “doing business” with the City, there remains a giant loophole.

Under the City’s “doing business” restrictions phased in over 2008, those who are seeking City contracts or have filed a ULURP application are limited to a contribution of $400 for a citywide office like mayor, comptroller or public advocate, for the primary and general election combined. Everybody else can give a maximum of $4,950 for a citywide office. However, there is nothing that prevents those who are “doing business” with the City from fundraising on behalf of a candidate, which is commonly know as an “intermediary.” And when intermediaries raise money for candidates in the City, the disclosure requirement is virtually meaningless.

David and Jed Walentas, the developers of Dock Street Dumbo, serve on the Finance Committee for Melinda Katz for New York City Comptroller (see attached invites for 2007 and 2008). Members of campaign finance committees typically act as intermediaries raising money from friends and associates. Have the father-son developers raised contributions for the comptoller candidate and if so how much? The statute is written so loosely that neither they nor the campaign is required to disclose the amount, if anything.

The 2007 law that created the “doing business” contribution limits, defined an intermediary as not including: “…any hosts of a campaign sponsored fundraising event paid for in whole or in part by the campaign. Where there are multiple individual hosts for a non-campaign sponsored event, the hosts shall designate one such host as the intermediary.”

In other words, if somebody raises money for an event that is paid at least in part by a City campaign, the intermediary is not required to report the funds raised. And, if the event is private, where there are multiple hosts, only one intermediary is named—even if that person did not raise all the money. That is the equivalent of defining a duck as duck, unless it walks like a duck or quacks like a duck.

This conspicuous loophole in the City’s campaign finance law, intended or not, should be closed. Connecticut, which banned all contributions from the equivalent of those who do business with the state after a number of corruption scandals, also banned fundraising by those parties. The City should extend the “doing business” contribution limits to intermediary fundraising and require complete disclosure.

In conclusion, I do not support the Dock Street Dumbo project for the reasons I outlined. I hope that the public, and more important, the City Council, will receive all the information from DOE and SCA about the site selection and budget process for Dock Street Dumbo before the final vote.

Supreme Court Justice Louis Brandies wrote that “sunlight is the best disinfectant.” Unfortunately, much of the process around Dock Street Dumbo has proceeded mostly when the only light is that of the moon.

Andrew Stengel

THE UNION STREET PROJECT: 139 Union Street

It's been a good long time since I posted an edition in The Union Street Project, in which I trace the past of every building on Union Street, between Hicks and Columbia, in Brooklyn. There's a reason. And that's: gathering information on these piles of bricks is damned difficult.

The newspaper archives provide only so much material. And the memories of locals are spotty at best. There are several local legends in my area whom I was instructed to seek out. They know everything about the old neighborhood, I was told. I did seek out these people. And I found out that they know almost nothing. I'd ask them specific questions and they'd answer in generalities and make guesses.

These dead ends temporarily halted my project. Finally, I knuckled under, resorted to the Municipal Archives and ordered a number of (expensive) archival shots of various buildings. Photos don't lie.

One of the photos I ordered was for 139 Union Street, seen above. This interesting looking building is on the south side of Union. Unlike other structures on the street, there is no trouble tracing the date of its erection. It says so on the cornice: 1928. This means it's one of the newer buildings on the streets. It also means that it supplanted a previous building, for an 1855 map has a building standing on this spot.

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THE UNION STREET PROJECT: 147 Union Street

This is the sixth post of "The Union Street Project," in which I unearth the history of every building along the once bustling Brooklyn commercial strips of Union Street between Hicks and Van Brunt, and Columbia Street between Sackett and Carroll.

This shortish building is 147 Union Street. It's on the south side of Union, near Hicks. None of the buildings I'm writing about in this series are landmarked or protected in any way. Which is a shame, because a number of the buildings in Cobble Hill and Carroll Gardens west of the BQE gulch are among the oldest survivors in Brooklyn. This building, as well as neighboring 149 Union, date at least from 1855, and, judging from the architecture, probably go back to the 1830s, making them among the first structures in the Columbia Street area, formerly swampland. The low roof, stark simple design and windows are fairly Federalist. And the amazing, unusual wooden lintels (see below) look like they could be original. I don't know if I've ever seen anything like them. The door, too, with its window above the frame, is Federalist style, and of a sort I've only seen in a few places around the area.

As one can tell from the facade, this building had a history as a storefront. Of its 19th-century life I've discovered nothing, except that resident Ellen Hansen lost a clock to a "sneak thief" named Frederick Smith here in 1885. But for at least the first five decades of the 20th century, this was the address of the Pastore Funeral Home, first run by Gennaro Pastore, who lived in the building as well, and then by his son Joe.

Gennaro's story is a sad one. In August 1921, he sent his young son (not Joe) to a local hardware merchant to buy some fuel oil for his kitchen stove. The young boy was sold gasoline by mistake. As the evening meal was being prepared by the child and his mother, the can of gasoline, set by the stove, caught on fire. When Gennaro rushed into the room, wife and child were in flames. They died the next day of their injuries.

Gennaro, who was also injured, sued the hardware merchants, Crystal and Morris Cohen, for $80,000. Whether he won or not, I do not know. But it hardly matters. Gennaro himself died in September of that year.

According to a Brooklyn Eagle account, the funeral home was still in operation in the 1940s, run by Gennaro's son Joe.

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THE UNION STREET PROJECT: 135 Union Street

This is the third post of "The Union Street Project," in which I unearth the history of every building along the once bustling Brooklyn commercial strips of Union Street between Hicks and Van Brunt, and Columbia Street between Sackett and Carroll.

I seem to proceeding east from Columbia toward Hicks on the north side of Union Street. This building is just to the right of the bank building I discussed last week. I found out a lot about that bank building. Not so here. I knew going into this that, with some buildings, I'd run into a brick wall (so to speak) and discover little. Some addresses leave a long paper trail. Others don't. Also, there are some buildings, I imagine, in which nothing terribly interesting ever happened. 135 Union Street appears to be one of those buildings.

The place is currently home to the Bluebird Midwifery. Before that, it held the Brooklyn General Store, a knitting supplies shop that moved to bigger quarters across the street a few years ago. Beyond that, I have heard from many sources that the bottom two floors were possessed by a small printing company. The building once had a long vertical sign running down the front that, I presume, advertised the place. It was taken down about seven years ago. Before the printing company? I have no idea. But the structure dates from at least 1855, when it is shown in a map of the time.

Not too exciting, I know. But I was told this by an old timer, however: "My friend Lucy lived at 135 Union St.. She married one of the owners of the original House of Pizza." The House of Pizza and Calzone is still there, across the street. I remember the two old men who used to own it. I wonder which one Lucy married.

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THE UNION STREET PROJECT: 132 Union Street

This is the thirteenth post of "The Union Street Project," in which I unearth the history of every building along the once bustling Brooklyn commercial strips of Union Street between Hicks and Van Brunt, and Columbia Street between Sackett and Carroll.

It's been a half a year, but now I'm back with a few more additions to my ongoing Union Street Project.

The House of Pizza and Calzone, at 132 Union Street, is the second oldest, and second most famous, business on the block (the first being the century-old Ferdinando's Focceceria). It was founded in 1952 and is now on its third owners. Paul Diagostino, the current owner, bought it in 2004 from Onofrio Gaudioso and John Teutonico, the raspy-voiced old guys who bought the restaurant in 1963 after working there together for five years. Who founded the pizzeria, I can not say. But one thing I do know—it used to be located a few doors to the west many years ago. It's present location, at 132 Union, is its second. (I believe the original building no longer exists.) According to the Department of Building, they've been at 132 since 1959. I love the Certificate of Occupancy's description: "retail sale of pizza pie and hot sandwiches."

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THE UNION STREET PROJECT: 143 Union Street

This is the eleventh post of "The Union Street Project," in which I unearth the history of every building along the once bustling Brooklyn commercial strips of Union Street between Hicks and Van Brunt, and Columbia Street between Sackett and Carroll.

143 Union is the center building in the trio of matching, four-story structures in the center of the north side of Union Street between Columbia and Hicks. I got some early information from a neighborhood vet that the store in the base used to be a florist. This photo shows that to have been the truth. A. Castiglia Florist, if I read correctly. This photo is from the 1930s, and my source was a kid there in the 1960s, so the florist was there a few decades.

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Sometimes They Hear You

Lost City today received a message from Time Equities, the org that is behind the Lamm Institute mews development project that has been deemed the Amity Street Horror by some (not me) and raised considerable ire among some South Brooklyn locals who are getting fed up with rampant building in their neighborhoods.

Since Francis Greenburger, CEO and Chairman, Time Equities Inc., was good enough to write in to this lowly blog (or was good enough to take the time to approve a letter drafted by his TE staff), I feel it only fair to print the response in full:

Time Equities and its partner Lucky Boy do not want to present a project that does not have community support. We thought the mews approach did because it was supported verbally and in writing by a number of community residents and local architects based on meetings we held in November and December. The mews design was also recommended for approval by the Landmarks staff who reviewed the plan.

It may be that some community members who took issue with the mews did not attend these meetings. The benefit of the Landmark process is that it gives all stakeholders a chance to be heard. Several concerns that arose at the meetings led to changes.

We value feedback from the community and the commission and will continue to address concerns, such as those that arose in the early meetings which led to design revisions of the Henry Street façade of the new townhouse.

At this point, we will re-conceive the project in a traditional street wall approach and try to present a plan that is responsive to the input received at the most recent Landmark hearing. As we did last time, we will reach out to the community and Landmark staff prior to presenting the final concept to the commission.

- Francis Greenburger, CEO and Chairman, Time Equities Inc.

All in all, a fairly classy letter I'd say. I still don't wholly trust you, Francis (nothing personal—we've just been burned a lot lately round here), but I doff my hat.

What's Going On With 110 Amity?

Last we heard Time Equities, the outfit that was behind the Lamm Institute mews development project at 110 Amity Street in Cobble Hill—which was deemed the Amity Street Horror by some—their plan had been reviled by the community and turned down by the Landmark Preservation Commission. The scheme had involved an objected-to new mews on the Henry Street side filled with townhouses. This led Francis Greenburger, CEO and Chairman, Time Equities Inc., to write an open letter to several local blogs (including this one). It read in part:

We value feedback from the community and the commission and will continue to address concerns, such as those that arose in the early meetings which led to design revisions of the Henry Street façade of the new townhouse.

At this point, we will re-conceive the project in a traditional street wall approach and try to present a plan that is responsive to the input received at the most recent Landmark hearing. As we did last time, we will reach out to the community and Landmark staff prior to presenting the final concept to the commission.

That was in late January. That would-be mews, the Henry Street lot, is now up for sale. (Second listing down.) The listing says the lot's "of right zoning will permit for a 15,660 buildable square foot residential building," and it has "great potential for high end condominium and/or residential apartments." (It never ever stops, does it?) Asking price? "Call for More Information!!!"

Did Time Equities throw in the towel rather than deal with the community and LPC? Did the economy cause they to abandon the project? And now what happens?

THE UNION STREET PROJECT: 134 Union Street

This is the fourteenth post of "The Union Street Project," in which I unearth the history of every building along the once bustling Brooklyn commercial strips of Union Street between Hicks and Van Brunt, and Columbia Street between Sackett and Carroll.

134 Union Street was obviously built by the same outfit that erected 132 Union. Unlike its brother, the little bathroom windows were bricked over at some point. But the cornices and fire escapes remain the same.

The address has been a laundromat for some years, but, as the below tax photo (barely) shows, it was once a market in the early-to-mid 20th century. The nature of the market and its name can not be learned because of the damn pushcarts that block the view of the storefront. I used to find those pushcarts charming, but too often they've gotten in the way of my pictorial research. 

Beyond the picture, I have found out little about this address, except that one Mary Buonarati, 17, lived here, and got married in September 1923. Not much, but there you are.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I have collected all the "Union Square Project" columns in one place. The can be found near the top of the right hand bar of the blog. 

THE UNION STREET PROJECT: 142 Union Street

This is the eleventh post of "The Union Street Project," in which I unearth the history of every building along the once bustling Brooklyn commercial strips of Union Street between Hicks and Van Brunt, and Columbia Street between Sackett and Carroll.

I always thought 142 Union Street was a fairly recent addition to the block. The squat, two-story, red-brick, faux castle just didn't have the look of antiquity about it. Perhaps it was an unfortunate creation of the 1970s.

Not so. The below 1920s photo shows the structure had the same silly, grandiose look back then. In fact, the facade is remarkably untouched!

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THE UNION STREET PROJECT: 110 Union Street

This is the twelfth post of "The Union Street Project," in which I unearth the history of every building along the once bustling Brooklyn commercial strips of Union Street between Hicks and Van Brunt, and Columbia Street between Sackett and Carroll.
Today, 110 Union Street stands at the southeast corner of Union and Columbia. Prior to the 1970s, this address did not exist. The building on that corner had an entrance on Columbia, not Union, and was first (in the 1850s) 201 Columbia, then later in the 19th Century 227 Columbia.

As the picture from the 1940s below tells, the corner was the home of Brody's, which looks like it was a lovely little luncheonette and soda fountain. Upstairs was a dentist equipped with a x-ray. The odd rectangular outlines between the second-story windows make me think the building was festooned with advertisements at an earlier time.

I have been told by many that this corner was also the site of a vegetable market for many years, but nobody remembers the name, and I haven't been able to confirm it through any hard evidence. 1898, 227 was the location of the Bolton Drug Co., which had four Brooklyn locations. They heavily advertised a wonder drug called Mi-o-na in 1902.

This building and the one next to it no longer exist because their foundations were destabilized during the great Columbia Street sewer dig that blighted the area in the 1970s. Some people say the City let the construction drag on as a way of undermining the crime culture that then ruled the area. Many old buildings along Columbia either fell down or were ripped down as a result, and the apartment building that houses Union Max was erected in the 1980s. It's bland and dull.

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THE UNION STREET PROJECT: 153 Union Street

This is the tenth post of "The Union Street Project," in which I unearth the history of every building along the once bustling Brooklyn commercial strips of Union Street between Hicks and Van Brunt, and Columbia Street between Sackett and Carroll.


153 Union, the building that forms the eastern wall of the northern side of the block between Columbia and Hicks Street, is the structure just to the right of the famed Ferdinando's Focacceria. For at least a couple decades, it has been the bare-bones, deli and cigar store known as Sonny and Nancy's. They advertise themselves as the home of four lottery winners, and have done so for ten years or so. Which means no one has scored since 2000.

Sonny died a few years back; Nancy runs the store now. It's a nice place, though I find it curious that Nancy knows nothing about the cigars she sells. Old-time locals congregate here, and a newbie can be given the fisheye. There are framed photos of old-time Union and Columbia Streets on the walls.

I have been told anecdotal stories that the shop used to be a toy store before Sonny and Nancy came along. But before that it was certainly the Union Center Meat Market. You can see the building in the 1920s below. It's the shop to the left. As the photograph illustrates, the wirework around the windows today is original, though the fanciful brickwork has been simplified over time. I've learned nothing else about this butcher. But then, butchers rarely make the news.

An added bonus to the archival photo above is that it features 155 Union Street, a building that has not existed for half a century. It was one of the many structures torn down on this side of Hicks to make way for the BQE. Today it's a vacant lot, but in years past, as we can see, it was a barbershop. Next to it was a garage.

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THE UNION STREET PROJECT: 141 Union Street

This is the ninth post of "The Union Street Project," in which I unearth the history of every building along the once bustling Brooklyn commercial strips of Union Street between Hicks and Van Brunt, and Columbia Street between Sackett and Carroll.

The buildings 141, 143 and 145 Union Street were built as a block. Aside from various modern paint jobs, and certain filled-in windows, they are near-identical. They stand out on the block for a number of reasons. They are four stories tall on a block of three-story buildings. The lintels are very decorative, and the cornices are intact. I have not been able to discover the name of the builder of the three structures, but he's to be applauded.

The westernmost building is 141 Union Street. All three building once had stores on their ground floors, though only one has a working business today. In the 1920, 141 Union was the home to a lovely looking pastry shop, as you can see from the Municipal Archives photo below. R. Bottaro Pasticceria was the name of the place. I have not been able to learn anything more about the shop.

I also learned that 141 Union was a boarding house around the turn of the 20th century. And a boarding house quite well known to the police it was! In 1888, a man named Robert Morris, who lived here, charged his wife with being a "habitual drunkard" who had not been sober in three months time. She was sent to the "Inebriates Home." This same Robert Morris, a tailor who seems to have had a hard life, was accused of stealing a coat in 1886. The charge was dismissed, as the owner of the coat had refused to pay for the repair work Morris had done.

In 1897, John Drummond, who resided here, was almost killed by Palo Bartolo. Bartolo was arrested. Meanwhile, a nice Swedish girl, newly landed and living here, was looking for housework in 1889. I wonder if she knew the Morrises.

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THE UNION STREET PROJECT: 124 Union Street

This is the fourth post of "The Union Street Project," in which I unearth the history of every building along the once bustling Brooklyn commercial strips of Union Street between Hicks and Van Brunt, and Columbia Street between Sackett and Carroll.

The first three entries of the series, I tackled three successive edifices on the north side of Union Street, each right next to the other. I'm now temporarily skipping over the south side, mainly because the next few addresses on the north side—137, 139, 141 and 143—are proving to be stubborn characters, revealing little if any of their history.

About 124 Union, meanwhile, I learned plenty. The fairly unremarkable, three-story, red brick building is home today of a Stop One deli, known to everyone in the neighborhood as Mrs. Lee's. Mrs. Lee is the chatty, friendly, charitable woman who runs the store with her husband, Mr. Lee. Mrs. Lee is a big presence on the block, and well appreciated. If you're a little short of cash, she'll wave a dime or two, or just round down the amount. And if you need to pay tomorrow, that's OK, too.

Before Mr. and Mrs. Lee arrived, this was Joseph Pizzimenti's fruit and vegetable store.

On Jan. 2, 1959, the building was at the center of a bizarre kidnapping scheme in which a "stout blonde widow," Jean Iavarone, took a newborn from St. Peter's hospital. She committed this rash act in order to trap Pizzimenti, with whom she had been living, into marrying her. Iavarone had had bad luck with men. Her first husband divorced her, and her second had died. She had four children by each marriage, and was forced to give up the children to orphanages and foster homes. She couldn't get them back until she was settled. Her crazy scheme was to drag Pizzimenti to the altar by insisted the stolen baby was in fact him.

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THE UNION STREET PROJECT: 131-133 Union Street

This is the second post of "The Union Street Project," in which I unearth the history of every building along the once bustling Brooklyn commercial strips of Union Street between Hicks and Van Brunt, and Columbia Street between Sackett and Carroll.

Today we're looking at 131-133 Union Street. This is the most imposing building on the block between Hicks and Columbia (note the double address), and one quick glance at it will tell any free-lance historian that it was once a bank. Note the faux marble pillars, the vaguely classical architecture, the high doorway, the fake balconies. Of course, in the isolated Italian ghetto that this neighborhood once once, it wasn't a bank the way you and I think of them. It was a private banking house, owned and run by one Antonio Sessa and his son Joseph.

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THE UNION STREET PROJECT: 138 Union Street

This is the fifth post of "The Union Street Project," in which I unearth the history of every building along the once bustling Brooklyn commercial strips of Union Street between Hicks and Van Brunt, and Columbia Street between Sackett and Carroll.

Most of the buildings along Union, between Hicks and Columbia, have held a variety of businesses over the past century or so. There are a couple exceptions. 138 Union is one. From 1927 to 2002 this was the home of a single enterprise: Latticini Barese Salumeria, a wonderful cheese shop with a history stretching back to the neighborhood's pushcart days. It was run by the Balzano family, who, as the name suggested, hailed from Bari, Italy. The shop stubbornly remained long after the BQE cut the block off from the rest of Brooklyn, and the Columbia Street sewer dig of the 1970s killed off the rest of business. The place only closed after old Joe Balzano suffered a few physical setbacks and his son, Joe. Jr., decided to throw in the towel. It closed in August 2002, eventually replaced by a real estate broker who is still there.

Inside, Lattcini Barese was a wonderful place, with very basic white shelving and white counter on three sides. (I wish I had taken pictures while I still could.) Joe Sr. got up every morning to make fresh mozzarella. They also made handmade sandwiches which had few equals, and a sausage salad that retains a grip on my memory. The shelves were largely empty, holding only some packages of pasta (by a company called Balzano, no relation) and cans of tomato sauce. There was a tile floor and, as I recall, ceiling fans. It was frozen in time.

The real estate office has retained elements of the salumeria's distinctive storefront. (See below.) Gone are the miniature green awning that hung over every window on the facade, advertising specialties like mozzarella and sausage. The business had held a stronger-than-usual grip on posterity due to a large painted advertisement that still adorns the top story of the building.

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The Media Finally "Gets" Bloomberg

Lo and behold! A negative portrayal of Mayor Michael Bloomberg in the mainstream press.

In today's New York Times, reporter Diane Cardwell related the shocking revelation that Bloomie has a temper! That he's used to getting his way, and gets petulant when people challenge him. That's he not actually the cool, congenial, joking character he presents to the public. That he has become cranky since his Presidential bid failed and the national press stopped paying attention to him. That his mayoral legacy isn't quite what it's been cracked up to be. That he has "come to resemble the 'Seinfeld' Soup Nazi of municipal government."

What took them so long?

Here's the piece:

For more than six years, Councilman Peter F. Vallone Jr. and Mayor Michael R. Bloomberg have enjoyed a warm relationship. So when the councilor spotted the mayor outside City Hall on a recent sunny morning, he greeted him amiably, shook his hand, and turned to go on his way.
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Brendan Hoffman for The New York Times

Associates say Mayor Michael R. Bloomberg’s anger may be linked to setbacks on projects he sees as critical to his legacy.

There was no indication that the mayor was about to explode.

“What’s this I hear about you objecting to that power plant?” Mr. Bloomberg, who usually keeps his business private, barked out.

“He kept raising his voice. ‘What’s the matter with you? You know we need the power,’ ” Mr. Vallone, from Queens, recalled the mayor saying. “Then he finally just screamed something about not moving it.”

Mr. Bloomberg is often a man of quaint politeness in public. But in recent days, as he has endured setbacks on projects crucial to his legacy, another Michael Bloomberg has spilled into view: short-tempered, scolding, even petulant.

The mayor has watched the collapse of his congestion pricing proposal and the blocking of his plan to link teacher tenure to student test scores. He is hoping a revived deal to develop the far West Side of Manhattan, another crucial part of his vision for transforming the city, can become a reality.

And, with his presidential hopes shelved, the often fawning attention from the media has faded, too.

Suddenly, as he enters the twilight of his term, he is openly dressing down commissioners, taking obvious shots at officials who disagree with him and invoking the royal “we” while refusing to answer questions whose topics or phrasing he finds distasteful.

He threw a sharp elbow last week toward Senator Charles E. Schumer over his suggestion that the Port Authority of New York and New Jersey take over as the lead agency for the stalled Moynihan Station project.

“We set the city’s priorities,” Mr. Bloomberg said. “They don’t come out of Washington.”

Mr. Bloomberg’s chief spokesman, Stu Loeser, played down the recent bouts of temper, saying, “It’s very easy to analyze things into other explanations for ordinary human behavior by someone who, over all, is a very optimistic person.” He added: “Mike Bloomberg is only human, and since he first started running for office in 2001, New Yorkers have seen him happy and sad, irritated and elated.”

But several current and former officials say the public is just now getting a sustained look at the impatience and occasional anger that Mr. Bloomberg, a self-made billionaire unused to answering to any authority higher than his own, feels toward those who would stand in his way or challenge his motives. “It’s the worst I’ve ever seen it,” Mr. Vallone said of Mr. Bloomberg’s mood.

Mr. Bloomberg has long been a man of contradictions: jocular and flirtatious one minute, earnest and moralizing the next. Described as down-to-earth and sharply funny, he might greet a political consultant by joking, “Any of your clients get arrested today?” He can be solicitous of his colleagues, once inviting City Councilman Lewis A. Fidler’s son Max to City Hall for a sit-down interview for his school project, rather than simply providing written answers through an aide.

“He was extremely nice to my kid,” said Mr. Fidler, from Brooklyn. “So there’s clearly a soft side to him.”

But he is also demanding and prone to outbursts of angry hyperbole, according to current and former associates, most of whom would speak only anonymously for fear of offending the mayor. They described a suddenly red-faced man who, in full view of others in the bullpen, the open workspace at City Hall, might scream, “You’re destroying my administration!” at an aide over a slip-up, or unleash a profanity-laced question about why he had botched a step in a project.

In some respects, associates say, Mr. Bloomberg’s anger stems from incredulity that systems do not function as they should, and from never fully adjusting to the last-minute, secret deal-making culture of politics, which he believes is a bad way to conduct business.

These officials and associates say that Mr. Bloomberg’s temper burns hot and fast — he can erupt, and then turn around and invite the target of his anger to join him for dinner. The attacks are not so much personal as an expression of his extreme impatience, said Assemblyman Keith L. T. Wright of Harlem, who clashed with the mayor at times over the congestion pricing proposal.

Mr. Bloomberg’s fury “pales in comparison” to that of former Gov. Eliot Spitzer, who would threaten to “bury you,” Mr. Wright said. He added that Mr. Bloomberg would yell things more focused on policy issues, like, “ This is good for the city! You’ve got to do this!”

Mr. Bloomberg, who declined to be interviewed for this article, has acknowledged his quick temper, writing in his 1997 autobiography, “Bloomberg by Bloomberg,” that when he was first setting up the media and information behemoth Bloomberg L.P., he slammed a door so hard in a fit of rage that the latch broke, locking him in, and he had to sheepishly ask his officemates to let him out.

Like many successful, self-made people, Mr. Bloomberg can be single-minded in his pursuits and supremely confident in his views. Comparing himself with other entrepreneurs in the autobiography, he wrote, “I too think I can do everything better than anyone else.” He added: “Still, my ego does allow for the remote possibility that someone might be as good at one or two little things. I’ve admitted there’s a slim chance that ideas coming from others could be valuable as well.”

As mayor, Mr. Bloomberg has worked to shield these traits from the public. But of late, he has been revealing an unusual level of emotion.

“People think that the guy is a cool operator, he’s a business technocrat, and I think people really can’t comprehend that he gets frustrated with the slow pace of government, that he can’t just wave the magic wand and say, ‘This shall be done,’ ” said Scott M. Stringer, the Manhattan borough president, who said he had been on the receiving end of both rage and joy from the mayor. “Now that they’re focused on the endgame, let’s face it: This legacy, this large canvas, needs a lot more paint before we can step back and really look at it.”

Mr. Bloomberg seemed reflective at a commencement address he gave at the University of Pennsylvania on Monday, describing how exciting and flattering the “buzz” was when he was viewed as a possible presidential hopeful this year, which landed him on the covers of Time and Newsweek.

“But in the end, I decided to stay with my current job — one that has 591 days left before I’m term-limited out. But who’s counting?” the mayor said.

Mr. Bloomberg’s mercurial nature has been emerging most clearly in his dealings with members of the news media, with whom he has recently come to resemble the “Seinfeld” Soup Nazi of municipal government.

At a news conference on May 1, Mr. Bloomberg snapped at a reporter who tried to ask him about a discrimination lawsuit at Bloomberg L.P. “What does this have to do with the budget?” he asked, even though he had already offered his views on other issues. “Next time, don’t bother to ask us a question. Stick to the topic. Everybody else plays by the rules; you’ll just have to as well.”

Last week, at another news conference, he cut off a reporter who used the word “maintain” in a question, calling the word inappropriate because of its confrontational connotation.

“Next time you have a question, you want to insinuate that I lie, just talk to the press secretary,” he said, jabbing his finger toward the reporter. “I don’t think we have a question for you.”

But others in his orbit are feeling his upset, too. At an announcement in late March highlighting more bus service in the Bronx, as the outlook for congestion pricing grew bleaker, he rebuked his transportation commissioner, Janette Sadik-Khan, as she tried to expand on his remarks about why the proposal would not be a pilot program.

Mr. Bloomberg was already upset that day because the Metropolitan Transportation Authority had reneged on $30 million in promised service enhancements linked to fare increases.

“That’s it, that’s the answer to the question,” he said. “I’m answering the questions here at the press conference.”

Lost City "UNION STREET PROJECT" Columns

The following are the entries thus far of Lost City's "The Union Street Project," in which I unearth the history of every building along the once bustling Brooklyn commercial strips of Union Street between Hicks and Van Brunt, and Columbia Street between Sackett and Carroll. (The addresses not hyperlinked are yet to be written

North Side of Union Street btw. Hicks and Columbia

Western corner building (225 Columbia)

131-33 Union

135 Union

139 Union

141 Union

143 Union

147 Union

149 Union

151 Union

153 Union

South Side of Union Street btw. Hicks and Columbia

Western corner building (110 Union)

120 Union

122 Union

124 Union

126 Union

130 Union

132 Union

134 Union

136 Union

138 Union

140 Union—address does not exist, a quirk of the block

142 Union

144 Union

THE UNION STREET PROJECT: 141 Union Street, Redux

This is the latest post of "The Union Street Project," in which I unearth the history of every building along the once bustling Brooklyn commercial strips of Union Street between Hicks and Van Brunt, and Columbia Street between Sackett and Carroll. 

I wrote about 141 Union Street for this series back in June 2011. Among the things I discovered at that time was that, in the 1920s, the address was the home to a lovely looking pastry shop, as you can see from the Municipal Archives photo below. R. Bottaro Pasticceria was the name of the place. I was not able to learn anything more about the shop.

Now, more than a year later, I do know more. I was contacted by the great-grandnephew of the owner. He told me the pastry shop was run by his great uncle, Pietro Bottaro. (The shop was thus called P. Bottaro, not R. Bottaro as I stated previously.) He came from Palermo, Sicily, around 1907-10, and opened the pasticceria around 1910. "His brother was my Grandfather who settled in Boston in 1907," wrote the reader. "My mother said they would always get a box of Italian cookie for Christmas from Uncle Peter. His wife was Vincenza and his children Salvatore, Anthony, Albert, and Santina. They lived at 17 1st Place in Brooklyn." The shop was there until sometime in the 1940s.

The best part of this new communication was the photo that the reader sent along, of his great uncle standing proudly in front of the store. Here it is:

Read more »

It's Moses All Over Again

This paragraph in the Tom Robbins article in the current Village Voice got me thinking:

Essentially, current buildings-department regulations create a race between aggrieved citizens and corner-cutting developers: Neighbors have to muster all their energy to stop illegal work, while builders try to outrun them, getting foundations in the ground and walls up before anyone throws a red flag. Then the developers' lawyers go to work, arguing that so much money has already been expended that civic decency should allow them to continue.

That argument—"You can't stop me now! I've already done so much!"—sounded familiar. What rapscallion had used it in the past? I turned to me copy of Robert Caro's biography of urban planner and public scourge Robert Moses, "The Power Broker." Sure enough, on page 219:

[Moses had] the insight of a political genius, that physical development would help rather than hurt his cause—the risk had been magnificently justified. And he had understood the significance of that justification. Once you did something physically, it was very hard for ever a judge to undo it. If judges, who had to submit themselves to the decision of the electorate only infrequently, where thus hogtied by the physical beginning of a project, how much more so would be public officials who had to stand for re-election year by year?... Once you physically began a project, there would always be some way found of obtaining the money to complete it. "Once you sink that first stake," he would often say, "they'll never make you pull it up."

Robert Moses. Role model to today's developers.