If you’re not a regular reader of the Brooklyn blog, Brownstoner, then you may have missed some really great Crown Heights commentary by the likes of posters Nostalgic on Park Avenue and Montrose Morris.  Personally, they are two of my favorite posters on Brownstoner.  They are both captivating local historians, offering personal accounts of Brooklyn and Crown Heights that regularly remind readers of this area’s majesty.

So, I was  delighted to see that Nostalgic weighed in on our recent post about the new development at 856 Nostrand Avenue:

A sure sign that a neighborhood is “improving” is the revitalization of its commercial streets — now the case in Crown Heights, where I grew up during the 1950’s and 1960’s.

A very distinguished city planner once told me that shopping streets are the first to go and the last to come back in the cycle of neighborhood change. So it looks like Nostrand Avenue, at last, is beginning to reflect long-time and new residents’ efforts at restoring their community.

This little section of the avenue was very appealing to me as a kid. At the corner of Eastern Parkway was the Kameo Theater, where my little brother and I went to Saturday matinees (and where I occasionally hid out while playing hooky from school). It’s a church now.

Across Nostrand, but also on the parkway, was a Chinese restaurant, where we’d go with our parents on family nights out. (Back then, there were few choices in cuisine anywhere in New York. It was either Italian, Chinese, or French, unless one ventured to Yorkville for German.) The place was nicely done and, unusual for a Chinese restaurant, had red banquettes and white table cloths, for Crown Heights back then, “fine dining.” (The building’s still there, but the restaurant must be long gone.)

And at the northeast corner was my bank, a big limestone number with enormous arched windows, just the kind of place to entrust my nickels and dimes. (Still standing but with a different name.)

Eight-fifty-six may have been the location of Buster Brown Shoes, belonging to a kids’ chain that I’m pretty sure’s extinct. By the time I was old enough to get my shoes at department stores, my little brother still had to sit through the pain and embarassment of being fitted for the funny boy’s shoe common at the time, with rounded, perforated tops and a “girly” strap. I kidded him no end. (Poor guy, he once tried to run out of the place, my mother and the shopkeeper in chase.)

I recently had drinks nearby at Crow Hill with Montrose Morris, Amzi Hill and BxGrl and was happy to see stylish singles, middle-aged ladies and — among a mostly African American/Carribean clientele — an Orthodox Jewish guy (with beard and yamalke) quaffing a beer at the bar.

Never saw anything like that in the old days!

Nostalgic on Park Avenue

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