Hidden Ephemera in the Clippings Files

Beyond the stanchions, in the center of the Brooklyn Collection, sit two rows of cabinets. Clocking in at 110 drawers, they contain a collection of newspaper clippings that are finally getting some much-needed attention. The clippings files include folders with obscure labels such as "Local Color" and "Brooklyn Spirit", and the subjects they cover—the aforementioned included—are cataloged in a 447-page Word document. It is also one of our best-kept secrets. Though we use the clippings files to answer many reference questions, they are so sprawling and voluminous that even a librarian with solid knowledge of their contents couldn't possibly be familiar with everything that's lurking in those folders.

We can all get behind the concept of buried treasure. When one of our largest and most frequently used collections has turned into a giant miscellaneous folder, what you end up with is just that: a collection within a collection, hidden in plain sight. We've recently begun weeding these files in earnest, and as we've plodded along, we've uncovered some genuine gems.

What follows is a survey of some of the weird, cool, and unexpected items in this hidden collection: a 1978 article about the Meeker Pigeon Exchange; an August 2000 Brooklyn Public Library Calendar of Events that heralds the dawning of the "e-Age"; a flyer from an organization called "Gay People at Brooklyn College" advertising a "Varsity" drag cabaret. These items are portals into a crystallized past, all the more potent for their unexpectedness in the midst of ordinary black-and-white photocopies of newspaper clippings. 

Meeker Pigeon Exchange

A venue for airborne avian warfare that derives its format from medieval Italian guerra tactics, the Meeker Pigeon Exchange, situated on a desolate stretch of Meeker Avenue in Greenpoint along the Manhattan-bound lanes of the BQE, was presided over by Pat Sottile, a pigeon trader who, by all accounts, had no rivals for more tattoos per square inch of arm—though curiously, none of pigeons. His crew proudly self-identified as "pigeon mumblers," though "flight guys" and "pigeon fanciers" were also acceptable monikers.  

A 1976 New Yorker write-up in the "Talk of the Town" section mentions that at the time, there were over "15 establishments that cater[ed] to the needs of serious-minded pigeon mumblers...but we feel safe in assuming that only the Meeker Pigeon Exchange...ha[d] a live bird in the front window named Killer King." Was Killer King as dynamite with a laser beam as his queenly counterpart? The world may never know. What I can safely say is that reading about the brutal ultimo sangue techniques derived from 16th century Modena is guaranteed to blow your mind. 

Though catch-kill techniques had largely fallen out of favor by the 1970s, in the 16th century when all this started, pigeon fights were often a deathmatch—la guerra ad ultimo sangue. A 1978 profile of the Meeker Pigeon Exchange in Smithsonian magazine describes this horrifying, though admittedly intriguing, process with unabashed admiration: "A victor would take a captured pigeon, attach to its leg a small, carafe-shaped bottle filled with gunpowder and armed with a fuse sticking out of the neck. He would wait until his enemy—il nemico—raised up his pigeons again. Then, relying on the kit pull instinct [a pigeon's instinct to join a flock rather than remain isolated], the captor would light the wick, release the pigeon, and watch the flying bomb explode in the midst of his enemy's flock." 

BPL Calendar of Events: 2000 and 2001

These are such choice artifacts from their time. The clipart coffee mug with steam squiggles and "Poets" in Comic Sans is the icing on the cake, but what really gets me is that BPL's slogan in the late 90s-early 2000s was "The 4-1-1 on everything" — a phrase surely requiring explanation to younger Millennials or Zoomers. Correct me if I'm wrong! But is there anything more representative of the beginning of the "e-Age" than this tragically hip catchphrase? It's both riveted firmly to its time (Mary J. Blige's debut album "What's the 411?" came out in 1992; Cher Horowitz gives us "the 411 on Mr. Hall," who "earns minor duckets for a thankless job" in 1995's Clueless; and the top definition for "411" on Urban Dictionary is dated 2002), and hopelessly analog, since the world wide web rendered dial-in directory assistance pretty much obsolete. Free to telephone subscribers only through the early 1980s, 411 has been in use in New York City since the 1930s, potentially as early as 1914, according to its first appearance in digitized city and telephone directories. All that being said, I just tried my luck and dialed 411 from the landline at my desk, and I'm pleased to report: it's still a thing.

Earth Day Flyers

By now, you've probably caught wind of the fact that this year marks the 50th anniversary of Earth Day. If you're doing the math, this means the first Earth Day celebrations took place in 1970. The slow chipping away at Brooklyn's ecosystems began long before, with mid-19th century industry having the most profound impact on Brooklyn's coastlines and waterways. Even 19th century methods of recycling, such as turning bones into glue, did their part to ravage places like Dead Horse Bay. 

The two flyers here were found in a very slim folder labeled "Earth Day," standouts among articles dated almost exclusively from spring 1970. Their context was a strong indicator that they might be the Brooklyn Heights and Park Slope Earth Day committees' inaugural handouts, but to confirm, I looked up the people listed on the flyer to the left—the breakthrough was Peter A. A. Berle, Assemblyman—and found that he was only the member for the New York State Assembly's 64th District between 1969-1974, so chances are, they were from 1970 as well. 

Also in this folder is the front page of a spread from the Daily News dated March 13, 1970 that captures the tone of many of the articles published around this first Earth Day: Portrait of a Threatened City: A Four-Page Gallery of Blight Photographed In and Around New York. The cover image is of a "giant power plant near the Brooklyn Bridge pouring smoke into the moonlit night." This is a PSA. 

The folder also includes articles about Governor Rockefeller—Rocky—riding his bicycle to get in the spirit of the day and Mayor Lindsay declaring a "war on pollution." What's most startling, and devastating, is how dire the tone of each of these articles is, the earnest head-shaking with which the authors report that the nation is finally "bestir[ring] itself from a Rip Van Winklean torpor of 20 years…" Here, on April 23, 1970: "We seem to produce a surplus of everything in this country, including a surplus of things we have no use for." No surprise that BPL did its part in 1970, too, disseminating information about what was definitely termed an "environmental crisis" even then. Here we are 50 years later, sadly in a much worse place—but not without renewed vigor for organizing within our communities to help turn back the hands on the Doomsday Clock.

Staging Area—Brooklyn

More than anything, this booklet is an exemplary preservation nightmare, and exactly why it's urgent (about as urgent as anything gets in an archive) to remove these from their current housing (acid-free folders, but not much else), and get them in mylar, etc. Clearly visible are rips and tears, rusty staples, yellowing newsprint ready to pass its deterioration along to anything it touches, and acidic tape surely degrading the pages of this rare memorabilia. 

Advocating for LGBTQ Rights  

Since there's no date on this Varsity Drag Flyer, I attempted to place it in the appropriate time period a couple of different ways. First and most obviously, there's the mention of the IRT and BMT. After some searching, it looks like the latest subway map that uses the IRT/BMT nomenclature is from 1978. By 1987, the map appears familiarly color-coded. New York Public Library also maintains a Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender Periodical Collection that spans from 1952-1999, and the journal of that organization, Gay Notes: The Voice of Gay People at Brooklyn College is cited twice, with a publication year of 1971.  There's also representation of the Mattachine Society in our clippings files. Founded in 1950, it was one of the earliest LGBT (gay rights) organizations in the United States, probably second only to Chicago's Society for Human Rights.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

MTA Bridges and Tunnels Newsletter

This is a classic Robert Moses puff piece, or at least it's very pro-Moses's architectural models, of which he was very fond himself. The centerpiece of this newsletter is the model for the Mid-Manhattan Expressway, which was never built (thankfully), because—in classic Moses fashion—it was designed to plow through midtown Manhattan simply to connect New Jersey and Long Island.