On Neighborhoods, People, and the Stories That Echo Them Both
As seen on Patch!
Neighborhoods are made, saved, and remembered by the people who inhabit them. Even as change crests over the landscape, washing away long-loved buildings and ushering in new people, residents keep the spirit of the place in check. Their aspirations, relationships, and ideas are as much of a foundation for a neighborhood as any concrete structure. Their memories are the ones that New York itself is built on -- and only the residents know a neighborhood's whole history. Here, Wendell Jamieson shares a few of those stories.
Sunny's Wonderful Saloon
Courtesy of the New York Times
"Change surprises, it sputters, but it keeps coming."
Red Hook isn't the place it once was, and that's just fine with Sunny Balzano. The charismatic painter-turned-bar-owner grew up in the neighborhood when it was a bustling home to longshoremen and sailors, and he saw its vivacity drain firsthand when industry jobs packed up and left for New Jersey's cheaper shores. When his neighbors were burning their houses for insurance cash, Sunny sought reinvention and revitalization. He offered his bar as a community hub when the community itself had all but closed its shutters and called it a day; his place became a central hub for artists, hipsters, lawyers, and workers alike. It's played host to a crowd that reaches across divides. Like Red Hook and Sunny himself, Sunny's bar has evolved over the years -- and is all the better for it.
The Quarrel
Courtesy of the New York Times
"This is a story of family ties that do not quite bind -- not a feud but, rather, decades-old cases of mutual ambivalence."
Emma Sullivan and Pilar Montero haven't spoken or seen each other in years, despite their shared family members and a neighborhood. Distanced by a disagreement that has long quieted to a simmer, each woman works within a short walk of each other -- and yet, might as well be miles away. The story of their relationship is inextricably tied to the neighborhood geography, indelibly mapped overtop a bar, restaurant, and grocery-store-turned-jewelry-shop.
Memories, Draped in Red
Courtesy of the New York Times
"The hotel was a kind of a neighborhood institution, tolerated, even mythologized."
The hotel was a quiet place of ill repute, a stone-built staple that was bigger than it looked and just as sketchy as it seemed. The building weathered every stage of Park Slope's urban evolution. It remained in place as neighboring Irish pubs turned out their booths and became havens for hippies and hipsters; it continued its business as usual as the neighborhood began to play host to uptown realtors and foodies. It was open for business weeknights, midnights, and Christmases.
It was a brothel. But the hotel's desk light has turned out; now, its owners have begun to turn by-the-hour rooms into condos. As it leaves, neighborhood residents share memories about the place, ones that are equally quirky, fond, amused, and exasperated. The hotel may not have been all that beloved when it stood -- but it will have a fond sending-off when it goes.
As seen on Patch!