I’ve seen this story other places, but this was also on CNN’s Situation Room. There were films of dirty dancing between male New York City Police Officers and Female dancers in Brooklyn’s Labor Day West Indian Carnival.
First I will start by saying the police officers did nothing wrong. The women initiated it and it would have been difficult to back away without all sorts of other difficulties later on. Even Police Commissioner Ray Kelly said that and he was seen playing bongo drums.
Visited three places on the Western end of the neighborhood bordering Prospect Heights regularly.
The Brooklyn Museum:
Then there is the Brooklyn Botanical Garden: One summer, I planted vegetables in the Children’s Garden.
My mother grew up at 1534 Union Street between Albany and Troy Avenues. I remember going to the house frequently. Grandpa took me to his club and to Lincoln Terrace Park. The neighborhood had its dangers. The old men would urinate against a tree in the park, because the bathrooms were too dangerous. There was an area where the old men would play cards, chess and chat. The back of the park is where the New Lots Subway line would come out of the tunnel and on to the elevated line over Livonia Avenue to New Lots Avenue. At Saratoga Avenue, three stops down the line was Midnight Roses’ candy store. The place didn’t sell much candy. It was in the 1930’s where the Murder Incorporated members took the phone calls to go to work. Another time another era.
One million people show up at the parade. You have food, floats and many people having a blast.
I remember back in the eighties, the carnival in London’s Notting Hill would turn into riots. Someone in the London Metropolitan Police asked someone in the NYPD, how they prevented riots. The response was “Learn to dance.”
They do NOT dance at the parade, but stand there arms crossed as though the barbarian hordes will break the door down. One of my cousins who grew up in Alabama, became a Hasidic Jew and moved to Crown Heights. She is always afraid. Nothing else to comment on.
Back in August of 2005, it was my parent’s 50th Wedding Anniversary. My favorite cousin is the sister of the cousin living in Crown Heights. My cousin Susan was horrified we were taking the fifteen minute subway ride from my parents to the Franklin Avenue stop, complaining we would be robbed or worse.
Crown Heights has it’s tensions, the riot in 1991 http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Crown_Heights_riot
Now, I am not little and could handle myself and am streetwise. My cousin’s husband is well over six foot, a Vietnam Veteran, shot down at the beginning of the war, and a Hanoi Hilton cellmate of Senator John McCain.
My cousin Susan was still shaken when we arrived at her apartment. Tom and I were trying not to laugh. Several kids actually stepped off the curb and into the street to walk around us. Guess they thought we weren’t pussycats.
OK, so that is my Crown Heights and my memories. So there! 🙂