My wife grew up in the Daisy apartment building, on New Montrose Av and So 5th Street, in Williamsburg. The neighborhood was quintessential lower middle class Brooklyn, diverse and safe. When she worked in Wall St. she took the elevated train, fare 10 cents, half a block away on Broadway. Many years later, after we had moved to California, I took my family to see Mom’s old neighborhood, about 1981. The neighborhood was destroyed. Stoops were crumbling, windows broken, parts of wooden structures pulled off the buildings for firewood; Julie was shocked and saddened. As I turned off Montrose onto Broadway a NYPD car lit me up and I pulled over. “What are you doing here?” he asked. When I explained we were visiting the old neighborhood he said “Head east on Broadway and get out of this area, it is dangerous.” He was black, we are not. Much more recently I revisited Williamsburg, and to my delight found an urbane, thriving community, still diverse, and once again safe. Revitalized by young people, many of whom work in Manhattan and ride the Jamaica train into the City, although that 10 cent is now $3, gentrification is in every way a blessing. The original cohort of residents were not forced to leave . Most of them, for one reason or another, simply moved on. Williamsburg was a victim of urban decay, deserted by the Poles, Italians, Jews, Irish, a ghost town across the river from the wealth of Wall St. The history and back story of Williamsburg, Ft Green etc define why the TV program “Naked City” tag line “There Are 8 million stories, in the naked city. This has been one of them,” is more true than ever.
Johnny Grindas ’54 🙂
John Grindas • Jan 16, 2026 at 12:32 am
My wife grew up in the Daisy apartment building, on New Montrose Av and So 5th Street, in Williamsburg. The neighborhood was quintessential lower middle class Brooklyn, diverse and safe. When she worked in Wall St. she took the elevated train, fare 10 cents, half a block away on Broadway. Many years later, after we had moved to California, I took my family to see Mom’s old neighborhood, about 1981. The neighborhood was destroyed. Stoops were crumbling, windows broken, parts of wooden structures pulled off the buildings for firewood; Julie was shocked and saddened. As I turned off Montrose onto Broadway a NYPD car lit me up and I pulled over. “What are you doing here?” he asked. When I explained we were visiting the old neighborhood he said “Head east on Broadway and get out of this area, it is dangerous.” He was black, we are not. Much more recently I revisited Williamsburg, and to my delight found an urbane, thriving community, still diverse, and once again safe. Revitalized by young people, many of whom work in Manhattan and ride the Jamaica train into the City, although that 10 cent is now $3, gentrification is in every way a blessing. The original cohort of residents were not forced to leave . Most of them, for one reason or another, simply moved on. Williamsburg was a victim of urban decay, deserted by the Poles, Italians, Jews, Irish, a ghost town across the river from the wealth of Wall St. The history and back story of Williamsburg, Ft Green etc define why the TV program “Naked City” tag line “There Are 8 million stories, in the naked city. This has been one of them,” is more true than ever.
Johnny Grindas ’54 🙂