Bay Ridge’s tiny Revolutionary War cemetery

Narrows Avenue in Bay Ridge is a lovely expanse, lined with grand homes parallel to a breathtaking view of New York Harbor.

But at tiny Mackay Place, there’s a remnant of another era: an 18th century family graveyard.

Known as the Barkaloo (or Barkuloo) Cemetery, it’s the final resting place for the two sons of Dutch immigrant William Harmans Barkaloo and for Simon Cortelyou, all of whom fought and died nearby during the Revolutionary War’s Battle of Brooklyn.

“The Cortelyou family, who owned the land, allowed the ground to be used as a graveyard for some 60 soldiers who died during the battle,” according to The Graveyard Shift: A Family Historian’s Guide to New York City Cemeteries by Carolee Inskeep.

More Barkaloo family members are interred here; there’s one stone listing each name.

The last burial took place in 1848. But fresh U.S. flags decorate the few headstones. Someone is taking care of the dead here.

When Crown Heights was Crow Hill

Neighborhood names are always changing. The area known today as Crown Heights—developed about a century ago on either side of Brooklyn’s grand Eastern Parkway—was once the site of a small outpost of shanties and piggeries known as Crow Hill.

It’s main landmark: the imposing Brooklyn Penitentiary, sometimes called the Crow Hill Penitentiary, which stood on Carroll Street between Nostrand and Rogers Avenues from 1846 until 1906.

The Crow Hill moniker remains something of a mystery. An 1877 Brooklyn Eagle article states, “The name Crow Hill was derived from the fact that in the trees which are scattered over this ridge, crows, who preyed on the neighboring farmers, found a retreat.”

Other sources say the penitentiary inmates were also referred to as crows. Then there’s a third explanation:

“Most historians agree that the name Crow Hill was coined in derogatory reference to the black community of Carrville and Weeksville, whose residents were sometimes known as “crows,” writes Henry Goldschmidt, author of 2006′s Race and Religion Among the Chosen People of Crown Heights.

The corner of Pell and Mott Streets in the 1940s

Or 1950s; it’s tough to tell. On one hand, the military presence on the lower left and parked cars on the right give this postcard a very World War II–era feel.

On the other, none of the men are wearing hats—as they routinely did in the 1940s.

And oddly, this is the historic heart of Chinatown: where are all the Chinese people?

The last surviving relic of an old Inwood mansion

It’s a bizarre sight: At Broadway and 215th Street, amid an unremarkable stretch of neighborhood shops, sits a marble arch straight out of Gilded Age New York City.

The arch (New-York Historical Society photo, right) is marred by graffiti and litter, closed off behind a chain-link fence. So what’s it doing there?

Known as the Seaman-Drake Arch, it’s the last remnant of the Seaman Mansion, a magnificent 19th century hilltop home built by the Seaman family, when Inwood was dotted by country estates.

The arch marked the entrance to the mansion, which was later sold to a family named Drake. As Inwood lost its rural character, the mansion was razed; on the site now is the Park Terrace apartment complexes.

Myinwood has more in-depth history and photos. And Gothamist found an incredible shot of the original mansion and gate.

Struggling New York writer Herman Melville

New York artists and writers who fear their work will never be recognized should know the story of city native Herman Melville.

Born in 1819 on Pearl Street, Melville is now considered one of the greatest American authors.

But after some early critical success, his later works, like Moby-Dick, bombed.

So he returned in defeat. In 1863, he moved from New England to 104 East 26th Street, where he lived the rest of his life. A street sign designates the corner at Park Avenue South as “Herman Melville Square.” 

To support his family, Melville was forced to take a desk job.

For years he worked as a customs inspector in an office at West and Gansevoort Streets—fitting, since his mother’s relatives were the original Gansevoorts.

He would have no idea that after his death in 1891, his work would achieve great acclaim.

Melville had a way with words about his home city. Early in Moby-Dick, he describes Manhattan like this:

“There now is your insular city of Manhattoes, belted round by wharves as Indian isles by coral reefs—commerce surrounds it with her surf. Right and left, the streets take you waterward.

“It’s extreme down-town is the Battery, where that noble mole is washed by waves, and cooled by breezes, which a few hours previous were out of sight by land. Look at the crowd of water-gazers there.”

The lions adorning city buildings

Patience and Fortitude, the marble lions standing guard outside the New York Public Library main branch, are probably the best known.

But images of the king of the jungle adorn lots of New York buildings. The one above comes from 675 Sixth Avenue. Now a Trader Joe’s, this stately Ladies Mile structure once housed a Barnes & Noble and was originally home base of the Adams Dry Goods company.

Lions symbolize strength, courage, and power—the latter especially worshipped in New York City.

At left and right, two lions, from Union Square and East 26th Street, carry garlands between their teeth. 

The lion at left with the ring in its jaw is carved into the facade of the Alhambra Ballroom building in Harlem. Opened in 1926, this dance hall hosted Bessie Smith, Jelly Roll Morton, and a waitress named Billie Holiday.

John Sloan’s “Italian Procession” in the Village

“This painting is a rare document of the meeting of cultures in Greenwich Village, where bohemian artists and writers lived among the working-class Italian-American community south of Washington Square.”

So states a description of this 1925 painting by the Delaware Art Museum, which hosted a John Sloan exhibit a few years back.

“Sloan enjoyed his neighborhood’s Italian eateries—like Reganeschi’s—as well as parades like this one.”

The mysterious staircase near 158th Street

At the tail end of Highbridge Park, at about 158th Street and Edgecombe Avenue in Harlem, lies a decrepit staircase. It’s in bad shape, fenced off from pedestrians.

So where did it lead to? It’s the last remnant of the Polo Grounds, home to the New York Giants baseball team from 1890 until 1957, when they departed for San Francisco.

The staircase took fans down to the stadium, which was built against a cliff here called Coogan’s Bluff.

You can still read the plaque on one the landings: “The John T. Brush Stairway Presented By the New York Giants.”

John T. Brush was the Giants’ owner who rebuilt the Polo Grounds after a fire in 1911. The team dedicated the then-new staircase to him in 1913, who had died a year earlier.

The lovely ceramic tablets on subway platforms

Building the New York City subway was a massive undertaking. Tunnels had to be dug, tracks put down, and electric lines, water mains, and other underground infrastructure dodged.

And then, stations had to be designed. A young pair of architects, George Heins and Christopher LaFarge, were given the job.

Their lovely work still survives. Heins & LaFarge created the arches and vaulted ceilings of early stations like City Hall as well as ornamental touches like garlands and wreaths lining platforms.

They built street kiosks, some of which are still in use today (like at West 72nd Street). And they’re responsible for designing these terra cotta and ceramic name tablets.

A few of New York’s spookiest Gothic roofs

As anyone who has ever walked the streets looking up knows, New York has no shortage of buildings topped off by ornate, Gothic-inspired, creeptastic roofs. 

I don’t think either of the two structures below are actually haunted. But hey, who knows—they sure give off an Addams Family–esque vibe.

This incredible building on Amsterdam Avenue and 103rd Street is the home of Hostelling International New York.

A dorm-style room under that turreted roof will run you just $39 a night.

Built in 1896, this French Renaissance–style fire house on Lafayette Street was once Engine Company 31. The FDNY moved out in the 1970s. Today, it houses a television studio.