Blog - For The Record — NYC Department of Records & Information Services

Brooklyn

The slow end of slavery in New York reflected in Brooklyn’s Old Town records

New York is a commercial city, created by the Dutch as a trading hub and expanded over centuries to become a financial and commercial center. It was governed by the rules of capitalism more than enlightenment thought or statements about freedom and equality. Nowhere is this more evident than in New York’s actions regarding enslaved people. Several collections in the Municipal Archives contain records documenting enslaved people, most notably the Common Council Papers and the Old Town Records. A sampling can be viewed here https://www.archives.nyc/slavery-records

Town of Flatlands Slaves: Birth Register, Manumissions; Records of Personal Mortgages, 1799-1838, volume 4054, Index to manumissions. Kings County Old Town Records Collection. NYC Municipal Archives.

New York City’s population of enslaved people was second only to Charleston, South Carolina. As the Northern state with the largest number of enslaved people, New York was the second-to-last to eliminate slavery—New Jersey was the last.

Chapter fourteen of the publication A Century of Population Growth from the first census to the 12th (1790-1900), issued by the United States Census Bureau, details the population of enslaved people. Titled Statistics of Slaves, it notes that the first census for the United States conducted in 1790 enumerated the 3,929,214 people in the country. The report cites 697,624 enslaved people residing in twelve states as well as Kentucky and the Southwest Territory. Vermont, Massachusetts and Maine are omitted from the analysis because slavery had either been eliminated or was not a practice in those locales.

New York State counted 21,193 enslaved people in the 1790 population as well as 4,600 free Black people. The number of enslaved people diminishes in succeeding decades due to State legislation “gradually” emancipating people until in 1840 when there were four people enumerated as slaves. In 1790, there were 7,795 enslaver households with an average number of 2.7 people in bondage in those households. That’s the average, but some founding fathers such as Robert Livingston and John Jay held more people in bondage.

Town of Gravesend, Slave and School Records, 1799-1819, volume 3017. Kings County Old Town Records Collection. NYC Municipal Archives.

In an article titled “Gateway to Freedom” historian Eric Foner estimates that two-thirds of the 3,100 Black residents of Manhattan were enslaved. “Twenty percent of the city’s households, including merchants, shopkeepers, artisans, and sea captains, owned at least one slave. In the immediate rural hinterland, including today’s Brooklyn, the proportion of slaves to the overall population stood at four in ten—the same as Virginia.”

Town of Flatbush, Board of Health: Manumitted and Abandoned Slaves, 1805-1814. Kings County Old Town Collection. NYC Municipal Archives.

Foner defined Brooklyn as it is today—the entirety of Kings County. But in the late 1800s, Brooklyn was one of many towns in the county which also included Flatbush, Flatlands, and Gravesend among others, all of which had their own governments and thus, their own government records. The records from those towns in the Municipal Archives are collectively called “The Old Town Records.” Consisting largely of property assessments, meeting minutes and oyster bed permits, there are a handful of records that document enslaved people. All of these records have been digitized from microfilm and can be found on the DORIS website.

Town of Flatlands Slaves: Birth Register, Manumissions; Records of Personal Mortgages, 1799-1838, volume 4054. Kings County Old Town Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

The Flatlands registry is organized in alphabetical order and each page has entries for the names of owners of slaves, the name, sex of the child and the time when born and a column for Abandoning service received. After the A-Z index there are entries attesting to the birth of children as required by law. Entries date from 1800 to 1821.

The Flatlands records include the Record of Personal Mortgages, Slaves Register, and Records of Personal Mortgages which lists children born to enslaved women. These records were created to comply with various laws passed by New York State between 1785 and 1817. Legislative bodies rarely act quickly and in the case of manumission the State Legislature took baby steps to eliminate slavery unlike counterparts in the other Northern States.

The New York Society for Promoting the Manumission of Slaves and Protecting Such as Them as Have Been or May be Liberated was formed in 1785 in New York City and consisted of Quakers and prominent men such as John Jay, Gouverneur Morris and Alexander Hamilton. Hamilton’s proposal that members must manumit their slaves was rejected by the full group. Nevertheless, the organization lobbied members of the Legislature to pass laws abolishing slavery, only to settle for the gradual emancipation.  According to Foner, resistance to abolition “was strongest among slaveholding Dutch farmers in Brooklyn and elsewhere.”

Town of Flatlands Slaves: Birth Register, Manumissions; Records of Personal Mortgages, 1799-1838, volume 4054, page 16. Kings County Old Town Records Collection. NYC Municipal Archives.

The first of the manumission laws was enacted in 1799 when the white, male body passed the “Gradual Emancipation Law” that required any child born to enslaved women after July 4, 1799 to be freed. But, not so fast. Those children were required to continue serving the “owner” of his or her mother until reaching age 25 for women and 28 for men. A tricky provision of the law allowed the enslaver to make the child a charge to the local government by filing a manumission notice within one year of the child’s birth. The government would then pay up to $3.50 per month for someone to care for the child, frequently the same enslaver until age 21. The timeframe for payment and the amount of the payment were later reduced and then eliminated in 1804.

Town of Flatbush ledger, Births and Manumissions of Slaves, 1799-1814, volume 107.  Kings County Old Town Records Collection. NYC Municipal Archives.

Eighteen years later, in 1817, the Legislature enacted the second of the gradual manumission laws, decreeing that enslaved people born before 1799 would be freed on July 4,1827 and that children born to enslaved mothers between 1817 and 1827 would be free after reaching age 21. The tricky math meant a child born in 1827 conceivably could have been enslaved until 1848, although the census records show that was not a common-place occurrence. By 1830 there were 75 remaining enslaved people in New York State and by 1840, there were four. But the State and the City’s economies were linked to the southern states with large populations of enslaved people. Foner wrote, “The economy of Brooklyn, which by mid-century had grown to become the nation’s third largest city, was also closely tied to slavery. Warehouses along its waterfront were filled with the products of slave labor—cotton, tobacco, and especially from Louisiana and Cuba. In the 1850s sugar refining was Brooklyn’s largest industry.”

The Smelly History of Barren Island, a Piece of the Lost New York

Many pieces of New York have been lost over the years – from the days before European settlers arrived through the more recent places we loved, the restaurants we knew and even the sports teams we lost to California, New Jersey and elsewhere. One of the lesser-known losses – as infamous and smelly as it was – is Barren Island, which was located on the southeast shore of Brooklyn, on the way to the beach at Jacob Riis Park. Some of its history can be found in the Municipal Archives – largely in late 19th century state and local Health Department investigations – and in the digital collection of images from the early 20th century.  

Houses built on stilts over swamp land, Barren Island, Brooklyn, 1937. Photographer: Edwards. WPA Federal Writers’ Project Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

Houses built on stilts over swamp land, Barren Island, Brooklyn, 1937. Photographer: Edwards. WPA Federal Writers’ Project Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

Historical records indicate that the Canarsee Native American tribe used what became known as Barren Island as a fishing outpost in the early 17th century and later “signed over” much of it to Dutch settlers. Largely unoccupied for many years, by the mid-19th century it had become a vast dumping ground where tons of waste and dead animals like horses, cattle, dogs, cats, rats and many other species from Brooklyn, Manhattan and The Bronx were rendered in several large factories on the island.The grease extracted from the waste yielded more than $10 million in profits annually.  

Street scene, Barren Island, Brooklyn, January 1938. Photographer: Sam Brody. WPA Federal Writers’ Project Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

Street scene, Barren Island, Brooklyn, January 1938. Photographer: Sam Brody. WPA Federal Writers’ Project Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

The residents, an ethnically diverse mix of blacks and poor European immigrants from Italy, Ireland and Poland, mostly worked in the factories and rendering plants, or service industries like grocery stores and bars. There also was a school, PS 120, and a church.  

Catholic Church, Barren Island, Brooklyn, January 1938. Photographer: Sam Brody. WPA Federal Writers’ Project Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

Catholic Church, Barren Island, Brooklyn, January 1938. Photographer: Sam Brody. WPA Federal Writers’ Project Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

A street in Barren Island, Brooklyn, Long Island, January 1938. Photographer: Sam Brody. WPA Federal Writers’ Project Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

The Island inhabitants apparently became accustomed to the odors and noxious fumes from the island’s incinerators, but people living in the rest of Brooklyn complained long and loud about the stench. Finally, in October 1890, Governor David Hill responded to complaints about the “nuisance” on Barren Island “which affected the security of life and health” throughout Brooklyn by ordering a State Health Department investigation. The report from that investigation, contained in the archives, noted that a rendering plant operated by Peter White’s Sons received the carcasses of all dead animals collected on the city’s streets. “On an average there are over two thousand hogs kept on the premises… and the dead animals are dismembered and boiled and oils extracted therefrom,” the report said, noting that the odors were carried along to Rockaway Beach and other neighborhoods, “rendering those inhabitants sick and destroying the comfort and enjoyment of their homes.” The report also noted that a fertilizer plant on the island received “large quantities of fish,” which were allowed to accumulate on loading docks. “The smells from those fish factories are so powerful that it is impossible to keep the doors or windows of dwelling houses open when the wind blows from the direction of Rockaway, and many persons have been made sick…” The report recommended that the factories take measures to contain the odors and that state health inspectors make regular visits.

P.S. 120, Barren Island, Brooklyn, ca. 1905. Lantern slide. Board of Education Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

P.S. 120, Barren Island, Brooklyn, ca. 1905. Lantern slide. Board of Education Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

The results were mixed at best. An 1896 report from the Brooklyn Department of Health – Brooklyn did not become part of New York City until 1898 – found that nuisances were still rife on the island five years after the state report. “This bureau, together with the sanitation bureau and the inspector of offensive trades has kept a close watch of the manufactories situated on Barren Island,” but noted that as long as rendering and fertilizer companies exist, there will be noxious odors and complaints. A subsequent inspection “found at the rendering plant dock three garbage scows, two of them being full and the other about half full… the plant is running night and day.” An inspection report for January 1896 found the carcasses of 21 dogs, 17 cats, 35 rats, along with numerous dead cattle, sheep and horses, which led to the naming of the nearby Dead Horse Bay. The City stopped dumping its garbage there in 1919. Complaints worsened in the early 20th century and the island’s population dwindled from a high of about 1,500 to several dozen by 1936, when City Parks Commissioner Robert Moses ordered the eviction of all residents as part of his plan to expand Marine Park. Before that happened, many of the buildings were abandoned and crumbling, as can be seen in 1930s-era photographs in the Archives.

Abandoned rendering factory, Barren Island, Brooklyn, January 1938. Photographer: Sam Brody. WPA Federal Writers’ Project Collection, NYC Municipal Archives..

Abandoned rendering factory, Barren Island, Brooklyn, January 1938. Photographer: Sam Brody. WPA Federal Writers’ Project Collection, NYC Municipal Archives..

The island eventually vanished as the city used landfill and tons of sand to connect it to the rest of Brooklyn. It later become the home of Floyd Bennet Field and eventually part of Gateway National Park area. Now, it is gone and largely forgotten – yet another piece of the lost New York.

Municipal Airport Floyd Bennett Field (remains of incinerator on Barren Island), July 27, 1934. Department of Bridges, Plant & Structures Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

Demolition of 227 ft. reinforced concrete chimney at Floyd Bennett Airport on March 20th, 1937. NYC Municipal Archives Collection.

Floyd Bennett Field - aerial, May 7, 1970. Department of Marine and Aviation Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

Death From the Skies Over Brooklyn

Disaster visited New York City on a cold, snowy, gray morning nine days before Christmas in 1960.

Minutes earlier, people were going about their business, shopping for the holidays, working in stores and grabbing coffee from a deli. A man on the corner was hawking Christmas trees.

Suddenly, at about 10:30 a.m., on December 16, 1960, United Airlines Flight 826 out of Chicago’s O’Hare Airport bound for Idlewild (now JFK) plunged from the sky near the corner of Seventh Avenue and Sterling Place in Park Slope, Brooklyn. It broke into jagged pieces after slamming into the street with an ear-splitting thud and exploded several times, killing all 84 people aboard and six others on the street, including a customer in the deli and the man selling Christmas trees.

Remains of United DC-8 at Sterling Place and Seventh Avenue, Brooklyn, December 16, 1960. Department of Sanitation Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

Most of the plane landed a block off Flatbush Avenue, not far from Eastern Parkway, destroying and setting ablaze a church—ironically named Pillar of Fire—several businesses and brownstones. The resulting fires—caused by a dark stream of leaked jet fuel—also ignited parked and moving cars and turned the quiet neighborhood into the scene of what was then the nation's worst air disaster.

Crash site of TWA Lockheed L-1049, Miller Field, New Dorp, Staten Island, December 16, 1960. NYPD Aerial Unit Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

What was not immediately known was that the airliner had been involved in a spectacular mid-air crash with a TWA Lockheed L-1049 Super Constellation about 10 miles away over Staten Island. That plane, TWA Flight 266, traveling from Dayton, Ohio to LaGuardia Airport carried 44 souls and crashed in a remote corner of Miller Field on Staten Island. All aboard were killed. No one on the ground was injured.

The city’s Municipal Archives holds a half-dozen photographs from that fateful day as well as 16 minutes of sometimes frantic radio reports from the scene in Brooklyn that tell the story.

The radio dispatches describe the chaotic scene that covered several blocks of what was then a thickly populated middle-class neighborhood in brownstone Brooklyn. They include reporters phoning in original reports and updates, and interviews with police and fire officials, a Catholic priest, and several witnesses. The reports noted that the plane narrowly missed two nearby gas stations, which would have made the fires much worse, and a nearby Catholic school holding about 1,000 students, which would have made it an even deadlier tragedy.

Aerial view of the crash site at Sterling Place and Seventh Avenue, Brooklyn, December 16, 1960. NYPD Aerial Unit Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

Here are some transcripts of the reports, which began shortly after the crash and continued throughout the day. The first reports are from a highly-excited and somewhat frantic WNYC Radio reporter describing the scene in staccato-like tones.

Remains of United DC-8 at Sterling Place and Seventh Avenue, Brooklyn, December 16, 1960. Borough President Brooklyn Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

“Some time ago, a large Voyager plane, apparently a United Airline plane, fell from the sky into an area of three-family houses in this vicinity at this moment” in an area whose size “is impossible to (quickly) estimate,” he reported, noting that hundreds of firefighters, police officers, hospital and ambulance workers and other rescue workers had responded almost immediately. Some 200 off-duty firefighters rushed in to help as well.

Firefighters battling the blaze at Sterling Place and Seventh Avenue, Brooklyn, December 16, 1960. NYPD Aerial Unit Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

“Flames are now coming out of buildings and due to the cold and wind, the flames are being whipped up. Several bodies have already been taken away from the scene. Automobiles standing in the middle of the street have been burned and are being towed away,” he said. “It is impossible to estimate at this time how many people were involved, how many people were aboard the plane or were in houses in the area who have lost their lives or were injured by this holocaust.... We will bring you further reports from the scene of this plane crash as soon as they are available.”

The reports soon continued with an update from an emergency official at the scene on the number of rescue personnel frantically working. The reporter then asked the official, who he addressed as General: “Would you say this is a major disaster?” The official demurred, saying it would be up to “the governor or the mayor” to declare an emergency. “Is this one of the worst air crashes you’ve seen,” the reporter asked gamely. The official responded: “Yes, it’s one of the worst I’ve seen.”

Remains of United DC-8 at Sterling Place and Seventh Avenue, Brooklyn, December 16, 1960. Department of Sanitation Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

The reporter then cut away. A few moments later, he resumed with an excited update, noting that police were trying to keep the gathering crowd orderly. Firefighters were pouring “tons and tons of water onto the burning structures” and he noted there were “charred bodies” lying in the street. “Dozens of cameramen are out there shooting this fantastic scene. It certainly is a major disaster at the corner of Seventh Avenue and Sterling Place... thick, swirling, choking smoke, which is so much in evidence in the area. Downtown Brooklyn indeed is the scene of a major holocaust.” He then signed off for the moment as “Jay Levy.”

He soon returned with an interview of a local priest who had witnessed the disaster. “I was about to go into the rectory. I looked up and saw something that looked very silvery coming down... Then there was a loud report. I ran around the corner and the whole street was in flames,” the clergyman said. The reporter then asked: “Father, was there a tremendous explosion?” “There was,” the priest answered. “At one time, the flames were shooting about 50 feet in the air.... People were running around. There was pandemonium.... Obviously there were people in the houses on both sides of the street who were killed.... It crashed into an automobile that was passing by, killing the driver, I understand.” He said he saw rescue crews take six bodies “from the plane itself.”

Soon after, came another report from a different newsman, who was much calmer and identified himself as being with the WNYC Mobile Unit. “We’re talking to you from the scene of the plane crash in Brooklyn at Seventh Avenue and Sterling Place. At least 200 people live in that area. A United Airlines four-engine plane fell from the sky into a church and several other buildings. The church was demolished. Several other buildings are completely afire and heavy smoke is blanketing the area.

Remains of United DC-8 at Sterling Place and Seventh Avenue, Brooklyn, December 16, 1960. Borough President Brooklyn Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

“There are unconfirmed reports that there were 77 passengers aboard the plane. We have seen charred bodies taken away from the area and put into a tent.... We’ve also seen people taken from houses in the area. The plane barely missed two gasoline garages in the area and plunged into the church, demolishing it. Ironically, the name of the church is Pillar of Fire.” He said police were keeping the crowds and reporters from the scene, but he could see the tail of the plane and other debris down the block. He noted that Mayor Robert Wagner, Police Commissioner Steven Kennedy and Fire Commissioner Edward Cavanaugh were at the scene monitoring the situation.

He said it was “hard to imagine” how anyone survived the crash, but a witness told him that an 11-year-old boy who had been a passenger on the plane had fallen to the ground and landed in a snowbank—and miraculously was still alive. He was badly burned and in shock and was rushed to Kings County Hospital in serious condition. The boy, later identified as Steven Baltz from Wilmette, Illinois, died the next day from his burns and complications from pneumonia.

Remains of United DC-8 at Sterling Place and Seventh Avenue, Brooklyn, December 16, 1960. Department of Sanitation Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

“The scene on this street is quite a familiar one to anyone who has seen wartime destruction. We have seen charred bodies taken away. We have seen people in houses surrounding the area in shock being taken away.”

In the final report in the Archives, about 20 minutes later, the reporter noted that investigators from the Civil Aeronautics Board were on the scene and were planning to block off the complete area for a few days. Bodies were removed to Kings County Morgue and there was no danger of the five-alarm fire spreading any further.

Remains of United DC-8 at Sterling Place and Seventh Avenue, Brooklyn, December 16, 1960. Department of Sanitation Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

Reporters on the scene in Brooklyn, including a young Gabe Pressman, were unaware that another plane was involved—since this was many decades before the Internet and cell phones. The next day’s newspapers told that part of the story.

A three-deck headline in The New York Times exclaimed:

127 DIE AS 2 AIRLINES COLLIDE OVER CITY

JET SETS BROOKLYN FIRE KILLING FIVE OTHERS

SECOND PLANE CRASHES ON STATEN ISLAND

Crash site of TWA Lockheed L-1049, Miller Field, New Dorp, Staten Island, December 16, 1960. NYPD Aerial Unit Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

Officials reported that the collision took place over Staten Island about 10 miles away. While the smaller Lockheed plane went down directly, the United aircraft managed to stay aloft for about 90 seconds before plunging down in Park Slope. Investigators determined that the United plane was going too fast—about 350 miles per hour or about 100 mph faster than he should have been—and was about 12 miles off course, causing the accident that left blocks of Park Slope scarred for decades.

Crash site of TWA Lockheed L-1049, Miller Field, New Dorp, Staten Island, December 16, 1960. NYPD Aerial Unit Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

Unbuilt New York: Brooklyn’s Eighth Ward Market

Ground Plan of the Markets of the City of New York, undated. Common Council, NYC Municipal Archives.

Markets have been a staple of New York City life since the 1600s, when the Dutch established the Marketfield next to Fort Amsterdam. By the early 1900s, there were approximately 2,500 active open-air vendors operating in the city with little to no oversight. This led to corruption and unsanitary conditions. In 1918, as a response to the growing health hazards and corrupt officials, the City established the Department of Public Markets to oversee food distribution, relations between farmers and consumers, and pushcart peddling. While many markets were built by the Department, our blog this week tells the story of Brooklyn’s “Eighth Ward Public Market.” The intricate drawings and blueprints of the proposed market in the collection of the Municipal Archives illustrate what would have been a striking addition to the City’s infrastructure. Sadly, the market never became a reality.

“New” W Washington Poultry Market, undated. Department of Marine and Aviation Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

Statue of Irving T. Bush at Bush Terminal Piers Park, photograph by Nathalie Belkin.

Many New York City covered markets in the early 20th century were designed with brick and terracotta buildings that demarcated their boundaries. The second floor of the buildings, for the most part, housed the market headquarters and offices. Popular covered markets included the West Washington Poultry Market, which stood at West Street and Gansevoort Street, in Greenwich Village, and the original Fulton Fish Market near the Brooklyn Bridge.

However, for every covered market that was built, most proposed during the 19th and early 20th centuries remained unbuilt. One such market would have been located on a two-block stretch of Brooklyn waterfront between 36th and 38th Streets. This market began its surprisingly long and ultimately doomed journey in 1895. Irving T. Bush, working under the name of his family's company, The Bush Co., organized six warehouses and one pier as a freight handling terminal on the waterfront of South Brooklyn. During the early days of Bush Terminal (today known as Industry City) it had many detractors and earned the moniker, “Bush’s Folly.” However, by 1918, The Bush Co. owned the Bush Terminal Railroad Company as well as 3,100 feet of Brooklyn waterfront, along 20 blocks.

Drawing of the Eighth Ward Market by the Public Buildings and Offices, December 1906. Department of Ports and Trade Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

In 1906, the Board of Estimate and Apportionment authorized $2,000,000 and bond premiums in the amount of $204,094.13 (over $5.7 million today) for the Brooklyn market. Following that approval, in January 1909, the Board of Estimate adopted an ordinance, authorized by the Comptroller and approved by Mayor George B. McClellan, Jr., for the issuance of corporate stock in the amount of $45,000.00 (over $1.2 million today). This funding was designated for use by the Brooklyn Borough President, Bird S. Coler, for preparation and extension of land for a public market in Brooklyn’s Eighth Ward.

Corporate Stock Request and Approval, Department of Finance, Comptroller’s Office, 1908, NYC Municipal Library.

Corporate Stock Request and Approval, Department of Finance, Comptroller’s Office, 1908, NYC Municipal Library.

Corporate Stock Request and Approval, Department of Finance, Comptroller’s Office, 1908, NYC Municipal Library

Engineer’s Blueprint, Eighth Ward Market, Intersection of Bulkhead Wall with Adjoining Bulkhead Wall of the Department of Docks, December 30, 1909. Department of City Works, NYC Municipal Archives.

Plans and drawings show that the ambitious market would cover approximately 20-acres and include dedicated trolley tracks to bring goods and supplies directly to every individual stall or shop in the market. Intricately detailed blueprints note that the market would have its own electric lighting, heating, and refrigeration plants, an incinerator, as well as pavements specially graded in order to ensure optimal drainage.

This waterfront market would also include a large public bath with a recreational pier. The public baths were to be the centerpiece of the market and would help the City comply with an 1895 State law requiring construction of free public baths in cities with a population over 50,000. Newspapers of the time lauded the public market as the single most important part of the South Brooklyn Waterfront Improvement Project.

Drawing of Eighth Ward Market, Public Baths, Bureau of Public Buildings and Offices, July 31, 1907. Department of Public Works, NYC Municipal Archives.

The public baths incorporated men’s and women’s entrances, toilets, offices and stores. The plans accounted for 42 male showers and 29 female showers.

Blueprint of Eighth Ward Public Market, Public Bath House & Comfort Station, undated. Department of Public Works, NYC Municipal Archives.

Blueprint of Eighth Ward Public Market, Outline of Market Square, Refrigerating and Power Plant, and Public Bath, undated. Department of Public Works, NYC Municipal Archives.

By 1911, it was clear that long delays in construction of the market were becoming burdensome to both residents and officials of the city. Commissioner of Docks and Ferries Calvin Tomkins, also believed that as Bush Terminal grew and the New York Dock Company tracks were built around the proposed public market site, it was no longer feasible or wise to build the market at the original site.

Nonetheless, in January of 1912, at a meeting held by the South Brooklyn Board of Trade, members seemed sure that construction of the market would continue at the original location. Drawings and blueprints clearly show the level of detail and planning that had gone into the design of the market. The main discussion at the meeting focused on renaming the market from the Eighth Ward Public Market to The South Brooklyn Public Market - a possible portent for plans of a market serving more than the local community. Attendees also praised the installation of a high water pressure system that would ensure enormous savings to the manufacturing and shipping interests of the area.

Calvin Tomkins, Commissioner of Docks, Brooklyn Daily Eagle, June 21, 1911.

In April 1912, Docks Commissioner Tomkins convened a public meeting at Prospect Hall. His proposal to move the market site was met with loud protest by over two thousand residents. Many vocalized the need to retain the original site due to the amount of money already spent (the Board of Estimate had allocated $500,000 to continue construction). Tomkins argued that the market would serve the entire City; not just the Eighth Ward community: “It must be connected with other large improvements. It must be accessible. It must have approaches by rail and by water, and it must be centrally located.”

Eventually, with continued discussions and further endorsements by and between the Borough President, the Commissioner of Public Works and the Tax Commissioner, a second site was settled upon: Seventeenth Street at the Gowanus Canal. But alas, by 1915, Brooklyn still did not have its public market on either of the chosen sites. Frustrated Brooklyn residents blamed this on the politicians from Manhattan.

Map of Waterfront Development and Eighth Ward Market Site, both locations noted. Brooklyn Daily Eagle, February 19, 1912.

“Mrs. Bangs Says Politicians Make Brooklyn Wait.” Brooklyn Daily Eagle, February 26, 1915.

In 1918, a South Brooklyn market did finally open, at Hicks and Baltic Streets. The market was small and served the immediate community; it was set up by the South Brooklyn League. As late as 1924, there was still a glimmer of hope for the Eighth Ward Public Market, with the 7th Assembly District Republican Club endorsing it. However, by July 1934, there was no market and an article in the Brooklyn Daily Eagle put to rest any further claim of a market coming to the area:

“Seventy-five workmen are engaged in converting the city-owned property…once set aside as the site of the proposed 8th Ward Market and an ‘eye-sore’ for the past 25 years, into a permanent playground and baseball field.”

Today, the waterfront area once reserved for the Eighth Ward Public Market is part of the sprawling Industry City complex and home to the South Brooklyn Marine Terminal, with popular restaurants, storefronts, offices and warehouse space for many of New York’s museums and retailers.

While Brooklyn’s Eighth Ward Public Market was never built, and the Lower East Side continued to be the hub of covered and pushcart markets life, its shadow remains in beautifully illustrated drawings and diagrams; there are annual reports and newspapers which discuss budgets, neighborhood concerns and political battles, all of which remind us of the grand market that never was.

Drawing of Eighth Ward Market, Administration Building, May 1907. Department of Ports and Trade Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.

From the Ground Up: A Survey of the Map Collections of the Municipal Archives

In 1891 the Metropolitan Underground Railway Company presented a grand plan for New York City. They proposed to construct a set of tunnels and tracks that would crisscross Manhattan, connecting the Battery to 155th Street, as well as Jersey City and Brooklyn at an estimated cost of $60,000,000. While elevated lines were already in existence, this new transit system would alleviate traffic, reduce noise, protect service from the elements, and propel New York into the 20th Century. Included in the proposal were plans for an East River Tunnel, drawn up by Chief Engineer Charles M. Jacobs. From Battery Park to Atlantic Avenue in Brooklyn, it would whisk travelers and freight between the boroughs in record time. Alas, the venture never came to fruition, at least, for Charles Jacobs. Instead he would helm the construction of a different kind of East River tunnel: a gas line connecting 71st Street to Ravenswood (now part of Long Island City) that was completed in 1894.

Dispatches from the Urban Heartland, Part 1: Welcome

A bit of an introduction. I was born in 1964 and live in Bedford-Stuyvesant, Brooklyn. I walk the same streets my family did when they lived here decades ago. Having moved here in 1997, I’ve now been walking in the footsteps of my elders for twenty years...

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