Laundry day

Back to laundry — namely, the laundry that was hanging when a tax photograph was taken one day in Gowanus.

[561 Union Street, Gowanus, Brooklyn, c. 1939–1941. From the NYC Municipal Archives Collections. Click for a much larger view.]

An alert reader noticed the human presence in the photograph: there’s someone at the top left window, and there appears to be someone below waving to the camera. I’ve tinkered with the contrast and added an outline for visibility.


[Click any image for a larger view.]

Here’s another view of the scene:

[557 Union Street. Click for a larger view.]

The likely residents of 561 Union Street when these photographs were taken: the Guadagno family, Gerard, Mary, and their daughters Rose, Nancy, and Gertrude. Under Industry in the 1940 census (distinguished from Occupation), Gerard and Mary are listed as “Groceries.”

[Click for a much larger view.]

And lookit: there was a grocery store just a few doors down the block:

[571 Union Street. Click for a larger view.]

That is a grocery store, not just a candy store (candy, newspapers, tobacco). The Salada Tea signage and the prices posted in the windows signify grocery store. And the word Grocery appears on the (Coca-Cola) privilege sign. I can imagine Gowanusites buying bread, milk, canned soup, tea, and coffee. Main staples.

Could the white garments hanging on the line be grocer’s aprons? They look much too substantial to be sleeveless T-shirts. Here’s a tax photograph with a grocer’s apron. I think that’s what we’re seeing at 561 Union.

[Click for a larger view.]

I was going to leave it at that, but I thought (once again) of Robert Caro’s mantra, “Turn every page.” Here that’d mean “Look up that grocery store address in the census.” And there it is. And in one of the 571 apartments, more Guadagnos: Arnold, Catherine, and their children Arnold, Marie, and Lorraine, all much younger than the family at 561. A Guadagno son and his family, I would guess.

[Click for a much larger view.]

Grocer’s aprons or no, I think that the grocery store was a Guadagno enterprise.

Thanks, Brian, for all your attention to this Gowanus scene.

Related reading
More photographs from the NYC Municipal Archives (Pinboard)

A Boro Park five-and-ten

[4318 13th Avenue, Boro Park, Brooklyn, c. 1939–1941. From the NYC Municipal Archives Collections. Click for a much larger view.]

In our house it was known as the five-and-ten. Or Woolworth’s. I have a limited number of specific memories of the Woolwort's pictured here: Silly Putty, smooth wood floors, enormous (or so they seemed) glass cases full of loose candy to be scooped into paper bags, small Christmas presents for my grandparents — a comb, a pocket mirror.

Note the baby carriages parked in front of the store. I’ve established to my satisfaction that yes, people really did leave carriages outside stores. It was another world, in a number of ways: here is the lunch counter in the Greensboro, North Carolina Woolworth’s that is now the International Civil Rights Center & Museum.

More pictures of interiors: the Library of Congress has a number of photographs of shoppers in the 1930s and ’40s; a Wisconsin newspaper offers nine photographs from the 1955 opening of a Woolworth’s in Falls River. And here’s Madison Woolworth’s, also from 1955. The 1968 film The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter has scenes in a working Woolworth’s. I put two representative shots in this post. The Woolworth-hungry reader can find more photographs by searching for woolworth store interior.

In recent years this Brooklyn storefront has housed a Duane Reade, a Carter’s with clothing for babies and kids, Little Luxury (baby clothes), and Regency Family Wear.

Related reading
More photographs from the NYC Municipal Archives (Pinboard)

Winckler’s

[5712 New Utrecht Avenue, Boro Park, Brooklyn, c. 1939–1941. From the NYC Municipal Archives Collections. Click for a much larger view.]

Here’s a candy store, right next to Sam’s/Not Sam’s Italian American Grocery. Just some candy store, you say? Just some luncheonette? Not so. At one time this establishment had its own matchbooks: Winckler & Meyer / Homemade Ice Cream / & Ices / Luncheonette. There’s just such a matchbook for sale.

By the time of this photograph, the business was just Winckler’s, or E. Winckler. Ernest Winckler is listed in the 1940 telephone directory as residing at this address. A 1946 advertisement for a waitress identifies the business as Winckler & Lazareth. The storefront was most recently a Sleeptight Warehouse Outlet Center. As of 2022, 5712 was a vacant retail/office space, with two liens against its owner for construction work.

If you click for the much larger view, you may decide for yourself whether those are boxes of candy in the window to the right.

I owe the discovery of the matchbook and the presence of this post to a close reader. Thanks, Brian.

Related reading
More from the NYC Municipal Archives (Pinboard)

An unattended carriage

[1773 Ocean Avenue, Brooklyn, c. 1939–1941. From the NYC Municipal Archives Collections. Click for a much larger view.]

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, Hydrox made ice cream as well as cookies. (Proof). And a beautifully designed Hydrox Ice Cream privilege sign stood above this small Brooklyn candy store/luncheonette. Small indeed: if you look closely, you’ll see that the right side of the building is given over to Blumberg Tailoring, with its own entrance.

But what really caught my eye is the unattended carriage. A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, people used to leave carriages unattended in front of stores. This tax photograph features the fourth unattended carriage to appear in these pages (here are the previous three). Were babies sleeping in those carriages? Our household thinks it likely. Movie scenes come to mind: in Angels with Dirty Faces (dir. Michael Curtiz, 1938) three Dead End Kids walk off with an unattended baby carriage, baby (awake) included. Granted, the parents, too, are outside and come chasing. But still.

[Leo Gorcey, Bobby Jordan, and Billy Halop, strolling with a stroller. Click for a larger view.]

In Not Wanted (dir. Ida Lupino, 1949), Sally Kelton (Sally Forrest) takes a baby (also awake) from an unattended carriage outside a grocery/liquor store.

[She won’t get far. Click for a larger view.]

In real life, it’s common for Danish parents to leave babies in unattended carriages and strollers outside stores and restaurants. Really.

The ground floor of this Brooklyn building was recently home to Rukhsana Parlor, a beauty parlor. Google Maps shows no carriage outside.

Related reading
More photographs from the NYC Municipal Archives (Pinboard) : A 1961 Hydrox advertisement

Got twine?

[4701 New Utrecht Avenue, Boro Park, Brooklyn, c. 1939–1941. From the NYC Municipal Archives Collections. Click either image for a much larger view.]

I continue to wander the streets of a lost city. Just call me the Ghost of Brooklyn Past.

Here, under the El tracks, is the Culver Paper Co., named perhaps after the Culver Line? I was drawn to this storefront by the attention its signage gives to the most humble goods. To the left: PAPER TWINE. To the right: PAPER BAGS TWINE SUNDRIES. TOYS and HOUSE FURNISHING (also to the right) take us into pricier territory. I would guess that PARTY GOODS (above the door) would cost somewhere between bags and furnishing.

Back in a certain day, twine was everywhere, securing packages and furnishing little loops by which to hang up, say, a dustpan or flyswatter on a kitchen door. But when did you last see a store announce itself as a purveryor of twine? Or, for that matter, of sundries? O dowdy world, that had such storefronts in’t.

Today 4701 houses a silver repair service. I doubt that anyone would leave a carriage outside while dropping off the silver, though the carriage in the photograph looks as if it might be holding merchandise, not a waiting baby.

The long-gone candy store in the second photograph is a bonus. We can head there now for imaginary ice cream.

Related reading
More OCA posts with photographs from the NYC Municipal Archives

Another Brooklyn candy store

[4213 and 4215 Fort Hamilton Parkway, Brooklyn, New York, c. 1939–1941. From the NYC Municipal Archives Collections. Click either image for a much larger view.]

Or at least a candy-store location. Either 4213 or 4215 was the home of Mary’s, which sold comic books, water pistols, novelty items — in other words, life’s necessities. A curtain in a doorway at the back of the selling floor seemed to screen a kitchen. And indeed, Mary and her family may have lived behind and above the store. I never understood that these storefronts had houses behind them.

I have a hazy memory of Mary — and her father? — doing business from lawn chairs, what my family called beach chairs. I remember that Mary made change from coin reserves in enormous pockets (of a smock?). I remember buying reprints of old comics at Mary’s, including one with a hero who discovered his superpower when pulling baked potatoes outta the fire for the gang. I’ve never been able to track down that origin story.

When these photographs were taken, 4213 was devoted to ignition parts and repairs (if I’ve read the large sign correctly) and radio repairs. Even if you have difficulty spotting HARDWARE in the 4215 window, the key below the street number makes that store’s identity clear. The guy in the coat, obviously with the shoot, appears in several photographs from this block. The kids disappear after these two. It’s worth clicking to see details in the larger version of each photograph.

A 2019 photograph in Google Maps shows 4213 as Kim’s Nails. At 4215, W Sunrise 99 Cent Market. Search results suggest that they’re both still going. If you look closely, you can see that the brickwork between these storefronts, or at least part of it, is the same as it ever was. As Holden Caulfield would say, that kills me. It really does.

Five more candy stores
4417 New Utrecht Avenue : 4319 13th Avenue : 94 Nassau Street : 4223 Fort Hamilton Parkway : 4302 12th Avenue

Another Brooklyn candy store

[4302 12th Avenue, Brooklyn, New York, c. 1939–1941. From the NYC Municipal Archives Collections. Click for a much larger view.]

One block up and one block over from us, this candy store was still standing in the 1960s, when it was called Pup’s, or Pup’s Luncheontte. The Pup’s of my childhood seemed to be something of a dive, a hangout, a joint. I think the Horton’s privilege sign was then long gone. I have a vague memory of buying a pretzel rod from a container on the counter. By the 1980s, Pup's had been converted for residential use.

Thanks, Brian, for finding this joint.

*

December 12: A comment on the public Facebook group Old Boro Park mentions a story that the name was supposed to be Pops but was misspelled. Another comment mentions Pup’s as appearing in Saturday Night Fever (dir. John Badham, 1977). It doesn’t. But in the movie, a car crashes for revenge into the large building right next to Pup’s, 4304–08 12th Avenue. You can see that building in these two tax photographs: 1, 2. In the movie you can see the original PUBLIC MARKET lettering, covered up in the earlier tax photo, partly covered in the later tax photo, covered up again in recent years.

After the crash and the fight that follows, Tony and company drive off on 43rd Street, going the wrong way on a one-way street. (Hey, it’s a movie.) You can see the intersection of 12th and 43rd in Google Maps.

Four more candy stores
4417 New Utrecht Avenue : 4319 13th Avenue : 94 Nassau Street : 4223 Fort Hamilton Parkway

Another Brooklyn candy store

[4223 Fort Hamilton Parkway, Brooklyn, New York, c. 1939–1941. From the NYC Municipal Archives Collections. Click for a much larger view.]

As I said to a friend in an e-mail recently, I’m living part-time in a candy store of the imagination. No relation to a Coney Island of the mind.

The location: the corner of 43rd Street and Fort Hamilton Parkway. The bulding went up in 1930. There was still a candy store in the 1960s. My clearest memory: buying pumpkin seeds. They came in a bright-red box, packaged like candy. Our barber, Nello, was a couple of doors down on 43rd Street. My brother thinks that’s a barber pole to the left of the hydrant. Was Nello cutting hair at that address c. 1939–1941? He was a pretty old guy by the time we were getting haircuts.

If you click to enlarge, then squint a little, you can make out the Coca-Cola signs (known as “privilege signs”) and what looks like a barber pole, all long gone. Now occupying the street-level space at 4223: Fort Hamilton Glass & Mirror. Several years of Google Maps photographs show nothing more than a row of roll-up storefront doors for the little businesses on 43rd Street.

Thanks, Brian.

Three more candy stores
4417 New Utrecht Avenue : 4319 13th Avenue : 94 Nassau Street

A Nassau Street candy store

[94 Nassau Street, New York, New York. From the NYC Municipal Archives Collections. Click for a much larger view.]

Another candy store, this one serving Borden’s ice cream. The building still stands, with a CVS at street level.

If you click to enlarge, you’ll see the once-ubiquitous Bell Telephone sign and two dapper men with light-colored hats and shoes.

Two Brooklyn candy stores
4417 New Utrecht Avenue : 4319 13th Avenue

A 13th Avenue candy store

[4319 13th Avenue, Brooklyn, New York, c. 1939–1941. From the NYC Municipal Archives Collections. Click for a much larger view.]

Another tax photo. In my 1960s kidhood, this candy store (in the same hands? different hands?) was known to me as a purveyor of charlotte russe. You could buy it through the window. Today the window is gone, and 4319 is a children’s clothing store.

Related posts
Another Brooklyn candy store : Nancy and charlotte russe : Nancy and charlotte russe again

Candy stores

New York City Candy Stores: A Look Back: a short narrative with photographs, at YouTube.

Revery: I remember Mary’s for cap guns, comic books, and water pistols. There was also at least one plastic bust of a composer (Beethoven?) for sale. Picholz’s had a full-fledged soda fountain and a long display of magazines. I think we bought Coke syrup there (for school-day stomach jitters). A third Brooklyn candy store, nameless to me, was a source for charlotte russe. A fourth, also nameless, was a source for pumpkin seeds.

Here, courtesy of the New York City Municipal Archives, is Picholz’s location, 4417 New Utrecht Avenue, circa 1939–1941, then a candy store owned by L. Stoppick. His name is on the awning. A great location, right by the stairs up to the El. Notice the bakery next door offering charolotte russe: 5¢.

[Click for a much larger store.]

L. Stoppick was at this location in 1922.

[The Retail Tobacconist, February 9, 1922.]

I suspect that “fine smoke shop” was a euphemism for “candy store.”

Since at least 2012, 4417 has been home to an Ecuadorian restaurant, Sol de Quito.

[The name Picholz was spoken, never written. I was guessing, but it turns out that I guessed correctly.]