City of Lost Clothes (or Greenpoint’s Merry Piper)

A couple weeks ago Mr. Heather and I were waiting — and waiting— for the G train at Bedford Nostrand. The reason for this inconvenience was the mighty Crosstown local elected to run in two sections. Luckily, we struck up a conversation with the Conductor during our wait. He was a very funny guy, and as you can imagine, he had a number of of very interesting stories to tell. This one is my personal favorite

So our Conductor is charged with driving the E train to the World Trade Center. As he heads to his booth, he notices a rather intoxicated gentleman nodding off. He advises this besotted gentleman against falling asleep because someone might try to pick his pocket. His caveat having been said, he commenced with his work. When the train finally reached its destination the Conductor checked in on this chap again. Someone had stolen all of his clothing save an undershirt and boxer shorts. They also took the liberty of removing his hat, placing it on the floor and spitting in it.

I mention this above story because it sort of reminds me of this tale from the September 21, 1898 edition of the Brooklyn Daily Eagle. Except instead of pants and shirts a set bag pipes and a kilt were among the numerous items purloined. Enjoy!

This story makes one wonder why someone would want to steal— much less wear— a full Highland get-up. But then again this is Greenpoint and if a man wants to wear full the garb of a Scotsman its no one’s business but his own. Unless, of course, he happens to steal it. In which case the local constabulary will get involved.

Miss Heather

P.S.: Speaking of lost clothing, be sure to check out this post on Bed-Stuy Banana. It’s hilarious.

Good Times At 95 Clay Street

I do not know how many of you, dear readers, bother to read the Greenpoint Courier. I would hazard to guess very few of you do. This is understandable given much of its rabidly right wing content. You should not, however, throw the baby out the with bath water. There is one reporter under their employ who has been doing some fantastic work; his name is Matt Wolfe and follows is a story from this week’s edition about 95 Clay Street. This tale of slumlordery has a little something for everybody: no Superintendent, holes in ceilings, water in the basements, hallways filled with clutter… and a brand new apartment building being built behind it without any permits whatsoever. Enjoy!

I can hardly wait to see who is going to want to rent an apartment whose only means of egress is through another building’s basement. I am no expert, but wouldn’t this be a violation of fire code or something?

Miss Heather