The Brooklyn Navy Yard Book John Bartelstone

New York City’s largest and oldest industrial facility, the historic Brooklyn Navy Yard occupies 250-acres on the East River between the Williamsburg and Manhattan Bridges, and is presently one of New York City’s major industrial sites. One of the last remnants of Brooklyn’s industrial supremacy, the Yard has experienced tremendous change: functioning from the age of wind to that of diesel. As a cradle of naval evolution, the Yard has had to reinvent itself constantly, and this is made evident by the presence of buildings and structures spanning from the 1830s to the 1950s. The Navy Yard was shut down in 1966 and reopened again in 1971 when the City of New York bought it with the intention of redevelopment. Great ships are still repaired there, and the Yard, now an industrial park with a variety of manufacturers and light industries, functions as a refuge from a city that has mostly forgotten that a mixed economy is a key to its survival.”

I really really really want to go see the Brooklyn Navy Yard for myself this year.

hi I live here and I have not spotted a baby since the day I got here. please stop trying to dub our ‘hood as another version of Park Slope because it actually is nothing like that. do not ruin this ‘hood for me, Gothamist. don’t fucking do it.

It is not just a tragedy, but an outrage—and the blame rests not just on the shoulders of the mutants who pull the trigger, but also the NRA , gun obsessed zealots and Congressional Republicans," he said. "If the NRA wants to claim that the Constitution protects their ‘right to bear arms,’ then the only guns that should be legal are the muskets that Americans had in 1791 when the Second Amendment became law.
I’m a strong believer in laziness as a spur for human growth and innovation, and getting on a train every time you wanted a box of spaghetti or a bottle of wine was a pain in the ass. We started buying our meat at Los Paisanos, a Sicilian meat market passing as Puerto Rican a few blocks west of us on Smith Street. It had just about every cut Dean & DeLuca had in Manhattan, but at half the price,7 and the butchers cut meat to order. We went to Russian nightclubs down in Brighton Beach and mobbed-up Italian restaurants in Williamsburg. We bought Polish sausages in Greenpoint and went to see Clarence Carter in Crown Heights, where we and our friends had the only white faces in the audience and — surprise, surprise — not only did nothing bad happen to us, but we made friends with the people around us. Now you can find “Brooklyn” anyplace in the country — in the world — where a low-rise, run-down old neighborhood has been colonized by the pickle makers and baristas, the craft shoe shiners and the mustachioed young butchers. I miss the old Brooklyn, the one nobody was paying any attention to. There’s a freedom in being ignored. Away from the spotlight, Brooklyn developed something that people want, and now they’re coming to take it away.
Regarding This “Brooklyn” Everyone Keeps Talking About