America's Oldest Strip Mall is PERFECTION!
Plus! Join the NYC Rat Pack!! Attack of the 16-Foot Pigeon!!!
Hello everyone,
Welcome to Issue #129 of CAFÉ ANNE!
Two very interesting news items! First, last week Mayor Eric Adams invited all New Yorkers to join his newly-launched NYC Rat Pack, an “elite squad of dedicated anti-rat activists.” To qualify, you must attend the Department of Health’s Rat Academy Training, join a Rat Walk and participate in (or host!) a “rat mitigation service event.”
Once you get certified, the city will send you some official swag, “To show off your NYC Rat Pack membership!”
We’re all going to sign up and do this together, right? Note: we don’t actually have to kill any of our rat friends. Most of the “mitigation” events involve picking up trash before the rodents eat it for breakfast.
Second, here’s something look forward to: officials announced that a 16-foot pigeon statue will be erected this fall on the High Line above the intersection of 10th Ave. and 30th St. So if you were planning to kill yourself this summer, you may want to hold off.
Finally, huge Rockaway Beach (I’m going on Sunday) shoutouts to new paid subscribers Toni B., Janine R. and Liz! That’s enough $$$ for the ferry ride from Sunset Park, my favorite toffee cake at Bungalow Bar, tips for all 43 panhandlers on Beach 116th Street, a Citi Bike ride up and down the boardwalk, a ziplock bag of sliced mango from the sidewalk stand, a Rockway Beach shower curtain (wot?) and a big box of Band-Aids for the shark attack aftermath.
I am very excited for this week’s issue, of course. I finally wrote about Newkirk Plaza, the nation’s first strip mall, and one of my favorite spots in city. Please enjoy.
Regards!
Anne
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FEATURE
America’s Oldest Strip Mall is PERFECTION!
It was only recently I learned that Brooklyn's Newkirk Plaza—a subway stop on the B/Q line about a mile south of Prospect Park—is America's oldest strip mall. Aha! I knew there was something that made this place special!
Yes, when it opened in 1907, according to the Newkirk Plaza Merchants Association, it was the first open-air shopping mall in the country. Finally, an excuse to write about one of my favorite spots in the city.
I was first introduced ten years ago by my "friend” Aharon, of course, and have returned many times since. How do I explain the appeal? You climb the subway stairs, exit the little stucco station house with its red tile roof, and suddenly, rather than the expected bustling streetscape, you're standing in the middle of a peaceful little pedestrian plaza.
There's a row of storefronts facing both sides, brick pavers, benches and planters, string lights, a discount store, a pizzeria, a cafe, a nail salon, a diner and a few bodegas. Nothing special.
But the vibe! There is perhaps no place in the city, outside the cemetery, that feels more relaxed.
When I stopped by one morning last week, the plaza was its usual sleepy self—the silence broken only by a man strolling through, singing in a Caribbean accent, at the top of his lungs:
As we realize the sea of sin
My heart begin to fail
But the lord reach out his mighty hand
And roll the sea away!
Across the way, a trio gathered by the station house was cheering him on. One, a shirtless fellow sitting on a milk crate, waved me over.
"My name is Ninja," he said, shaking my hand.
Ninja introduced me to his friend Papa, who was in a wheelchair, and his friend David, who was standing, and David's dog Iggy, a 14-year-old Jack Russell mix, who was panting on the pavement.
I told Ninja I was writing about Newkirk Plaza. "Do you hang out here?" I asked.
"No sweetie," he said. "I live here. That's a Fendi fact!"
"Why'd you call it a Fendi fact?" I said.
"Because that's what n—s say," he said. "It's a Fendi fact. It means it's the truth."
He said he'd be happy to chat about life on the plaza, and I offered to get him a coffee.
"No, I drink beer," he said. "Hold on a second!"
He gave me his milk crate to sit on and and returned a moment later with a 16-oz Bud and a tiny bottle. "This is Voda Vodka, this is called a nip," said Ninja, squatting beside me and twisting off the cap. "I'm an alcoholic. I drink for breakfast."
"Ah," I said. "I'm in recovery."
"Oh that's cute!" said Ninja. "What are you recovering from?"
"Everything!" I said.
We laughed and laughed.
Ninja related some of his story. He grew up in Crown Heights, on Nostrand Avenue. His mother was a prostitute. "There was always drugs," he said. "My mom was the first gangster I ever knew. Haha!"
"But then when I got a little older," he continued, "she got herself a nice white guy and we moved over to Dorchester and Cortelyou Road."
That's a few blocks from Newkirk Plaza.
"And then, at 14, I left my crib," he said. "My mother stabbed me. I left the house, I couldn't take no more. And from 14 I came here."
He’s had a number of jobs including a stint at the nearby pizzeria and the judo studio (hence the name Ninja). He also spent a lot of time in prison, where he got an associate’s degree in theology. He's 47.
"From Coney Island Avenue, to Flatbush, to Avenue H, to Cortelyou, that's the square I roll around in," he said, naming the local streets. "This is my territory. I'm all over. I could be anywhere, at any time, doing anything."
"I'm friendly and loving and caring," he continued. "But I'm a Leo so I wear my heart on my sleeve. And if I feel slighted, I roar. And then sometimes they don't want to be friends no more. But then sometimes they say sorry, and we're friends. David, we've been through some wild bulls—t. He pulled a gun on me. I wanted to murder him."
Ninja's friend Minnie, a tall lady in a turban, came over to pet Iggy.
"I ain't see you in a couple of days. What's you been up to?" said Ninja.
"I'm old," said Minnie, smiling.
"For six months, every morning, me and her used to do the crossword puzzles," Ninja told me.
"Oh, he's good, yeah!" said Minnie.
A lengthy conversation between Minnie, David, Ninja and Papa ensued about how Trump and Harris might handle a nuclear attack, and the situation in Israel.
"So you were telling me your story," I said, when the exchange wound down. "You have your territory, you roll around...."
"I run around, I do all types of f—kery," said Nijna.
For some reason, we found that very funny as well.
Ninja said he has no possessions. He sleeps on rooftops and benches. He starts drinking first thing in the morning, followed by a visit to his sister, who lives nearby. And after that? "Anything could happen!" he said.
He's seen Newkirk Plaza change over the decades. "Every time I came out of prison, the place looks different," he said.
The brick pavers, planters, benches and black-iron fences surrounding the train tracks, for example, were introduced around 2007. Ninja remembers when the plaza was covered with black gravel and cars drove through.
But some of the shops haven’t changed since he was a kid, including the pizzeria, barbershop, and grocery.
"This is my area, my neck of the woods," he said. "I've lived here my whole life. And I'm never going to leave. I'm never going to leave. I'm never going to leave. One day I'm going to be dead on the bench, and I'm happy with that."
Conducting a little inventory, I was pleased to find only five of the plaza’s 25 shops are chain operations—including a Dunkin’ and a Bank of America. The rest are still mom-and-pops.
Three storefronts were empty, however, giving it a vacancy rate of 12%—on par with the NYC average, but double the nationwide rate for strip malls. And there had been a lot of turnover since my last visit!
Blame it on the rent. According to the MTA, about 10,500 riders pass through the station daily, so there's plenty of foot traffic. But a lease runs from $3,000 to $8,000 a month, shopkeepers told me.
Some of the savvier business owners have responded to the challenge by creating multiple revenue streams. The Keep Clean Laundromat and Dry Cleaner, for example, advertises "Garbagebag 4 Sale" in its window. The bodega doubles as a plant shop and floral delivery service—foil balloons and teddy bears mingle with the laundry detergent and canned hot peppers.
The Green Light Driving School, meanwhile, offers notary and fax services, email printing and life insurance, not to mention the eclectic display of merch for sale in the front window including toy trucks, cowboy hats, CBD soap, embroidered parasols, flashlights and jewelry.
Proprietor Mohammad Alam told me he opened the business two years ago. "Before, I did the driving taxi, and I drove Uber," he said.
"Newkirk Plaza is a very good location," he continued. "Very beautiful. I like their management. They are neat and clean. And there is a crowd here. It is good for the business. You have the B/Q train subways. There's a bank, there is a doctor office, a pharmacy around here. Groceries. So anyone coming for the one thing, they are going to go for all of those things."
It's also close to home. "I live in this area around 16 years, I know many people," he said. "My community is here."
He is from Bangladesh, but the surrounding neighborhood is also home to folks from Pakistan and Yemen in addition to US natives priced out of brownstone Brooklyn.
"And the grocery store next door is Chinese!" I observed.
"He is my very good friend," said Mr. Alam.
The driver school instructor said he added the gift shop in an effort to fill the front window, which looked empty. His students buy phone chargers and umbrellas—sometimes a hat or a ring.
"I'd love it if someone asked me where I got my ring, and I could tell them I bought it at my driving school," I said.
"Yes!” said Mr. Alam. "I do real estate too."
I took his card. He's a broker with Century 21 Achievers Realty, selling residential and commercial properties. Sometimes his driving school students refer him to folks looking for an apartment. Synergy!
I was curious to visit the shops Ninja identified as the longest-running in the plaza. Lo Duca Pizza, sadly, was closed for the season.
But the barbershop, operating since 1913, was open for business.
The proprietor, Artem, who is from Uzbekistan, said he is the shop's fourth owner. He rents a chair to the former owner, Leon, who is 75, along with Mr. Angelo, who is 84 and worked at the shop around the corner until it closed during the pandemic. "He doesn't want to retire, so I give him the chair,” he said.
When Artem took over, he changed the shop's name from "Leon's Fantasy Cuts" to "'Ol’ Time Barbershop," and renovated the interior. "But I kept it as simple as possible," he said. "I don't like that fancy-schmancy look."
Artem, who lives in Queens and also owns a barbershop in Flushing, discovered Newkirk Plaza when a friend told him the storefront was available. "I actually was amazed when I observed it the way it is," he said of the area. "I Love it. Love it. Love it."
Both shopkeepers and customers hail from around the world, he said, and everyone is accepted.
"I feel relaxed. No tension here," he said. "You smile and greet people here, and they smile back. They don't look at you like you're crazy. This is the hidden gem. Yeah, this is a beauty. And I love it. I love it. I come here, I have no worries."
And how do I love thee, Newkirk Plaza? Let me count the ways. Whether it’s lunch, or a manicure, or a frying pan, there’s nothing here that your average working person—or blogger—can’t afford. Salah Hussein, the Yemenis owner of Plaza Flower & Grocery, for example, said he is careful to price all his plants from $5 to $40. "It won't sell if it's more expensive," he said. "They'd stay here a whole year." A pound of grapes costs a $1. A load of laundry is $2.25.
Then there's the weird finds—merch you'd never see at Target or Walmart. The 99¢ & UP Gift Shop, for example, offers everything from housewares to baby socks sourced from an alternate universe. There’s "Lucky" brand mouthwash, "Trisonic" light bulbs and "Handy Candy" mints. My favorite: the Paradise Cologne ($3.69), "Extra Strength 70% Alcohol FOR EXTERNAL USE ONLY."
And I can't say why, but I love the plaza's overall vibe of C+ effort. The busy laundromat, for example, which is still coin-operated, featured many out-of-order signs, each in a different font and color, while the dusty gum-ball machine dispensed rubber erasers in the shape of milk and cookies. The attendant was fast asleep in her plexiglas booth, and no one interrupted her nap.
Not everyone shares my delight with the plaza, of course. A number of shopkeepers and shoppers I spoke with complained about the drinkers hanging around the scene, which made me think of Ninja and his crew. And some of the more recent arrivals wonder why the plaza doesn’t cater more to their tastes.
Steve Geuting, a sales rep enjoying the sunny afternoon at an outside table at the Apple Tree Gourmet café, said he'd moved to the area five years ago from Crown Heights. "We had a kid. We needed more space and this is what we could afford," he said. "We ended up buying."
"And the plaza particular...?” I prodded.
"It's weird!" said Mr. Geuting. "There's a lot of traffic here, but the businesses don't necessarily reflect the amount of people that are here. It's a little underdeveloped."
"This area, it has a lot of money around it, but I feel like the food choices aren't that great," he continued, noting that he is a former chef. "It's a nice neighborhood, but a lot of the stuff you'd want isn't here. I’d expect there to be fewer bodegas. I mean, the Dunkin’ Donuts is fine. But a cannabis store? It’s not my thing. It’s fine, but I don't get it. The pharmacy? I don't get it. This café is okay and Pablo’s [the diner] is okay. But I feel like it doesn’t have any curb appeal, in a way. Everything is just a little trashy, that's all.”
Maybe America’s oldest strip mall isn’t as great as I think it is?
It was the end of the day, and I was delighted when Aharon stopped by to say hi. I ordered a cappuccino at the café and Aharon, as usual, ordered nothing.
I reminded him that he was the person who introduced me to Newkirk Plaza. "Do you remember why?" I asked.
"Probably to punish you!" he said, "is it working?"
We both found this very funny.
"I always liked Newkirk," he said. "I like the vibe here. I like the idea. I think this is like a master class in managing expectations. If you think you're going to a train station that's just a subway station, you're going to be bowled over. If you have any other expectation, you're going to spend 25 minutes going from store to store and then ask yourself, 'Why did I do that?'"
"It doesn't overpromise AND it doesn't overdeliver," he continued. "It's like the end of a really bad movie, where everybody learned the lesson that actually the big city is no good, because that's where Satan lives, but there's always a home you can return to. And this is that. Everyone has hepatitis, and the one shop you like is closed, but you know, you'll always have a home. I don't know. Don't quote me on that."
"Thank you," I said.
He wasn’t done. "I mean, that's the framework," he said. "I think in a city that's promising everything big and glitzy, or whatever, it's a very mild pleasure and a very acquired taste."
After I finished writing this story, I was still mulling things over, and sent Aharon a text: “So maybe Newkirk Plaza isn't much of anything, but can I say it’s the world's best strip mall?”
“Is it, though?” he replied. “Maybe it’s the PERFECT strip mall.”
Yes, for a strip mall, it is perfect. We shall leave it at that.
CAFÉ ANNE is a free weekly newsletter created by Brooklyn journalist Anne Kadet. Subscribe to get the latest issue every Monday!
This issue was great! But I want to focus on something you do so well, Anne. It's hard to interview people without judging them, but if you can accomplish that, you'll find gold. You are an interview master, Anne. I felt so uneasy when I read the exchange between you and Ninja where he said he's an alcoholic and you said you're in recovery. In lesser hands, that scene could've gone sideways. But you lead with humanity and humor, and what I love about that approach is that you find people as they are, and you put them forward, warts and all, with so much respect and dignity. Well done!
“Every time I come out of prison, this place looks different,” is a dense quote. There are worlds compressed in there. I’m going to think of it unprompted months later.