When The Gowanus Canal Was A Playground: A 1960's Carroll Gardens Childhood

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Back In The Days: Sprinkler In Carroll Park

The Gowanus Canal
Both Pictures from the Brooklyn Public Library

One of the cool things about writing a neighborhood blog is that people often share their stories of growing up in Carroll Gardens with me. A few days ago, I received an email from Sean who lived right on Huntington Street in the 1960's. Sean was nice enough to share some of his childhood memories with me. They are quite wonderful and a great glimpse into Carroll Gardens' past. Below is his story:

I moved to Carroll Gardens in 1967. We lived on Huntington Street. I am the youngest of six children from an Irish Catholic family. I have two sisters who still live in the neighborhood, one on Sackett Street and one sister who still lives on Huntington Street.
Well, growing up in the old neighborhood was fun and rough. It was very family oriented and the neighbors were your parent's police. Court Street was a busy street with many Italian stores,great food and some pretty stringent store owners..."you're not buying....GET OUT!"

The Gowanus Canal used to be a great place to play...we used to jump on the sand and gravel barges. Pretty dumb now that I think about it, but you know, kids will be kids. The canal was absolutely filthy. On warm days, you could smell it for a half a mile or more. One time, my friends and I constructed a make-shift raft and paddled our way around the passage of the canal as far up as the Hamilton Avenue drawbridge. Each stroke of our paddles drew up such an awful smell that we figured it wasn't worth the adventure and gave up. I can recall when I was really young, my father telling me that the man-made canal was actually a dry trench where mules used to pull coal and other materials. The mule team rider would crack his whip at them as the animals struggled with their heavy load. He would yell out GO ON ASS!!! GO ON ASS!!! Hence the name "Gowanus."

Prior to the Transit Mix cement company taking over, the place was used by a company called Ryan's Ready Mix. Many of us children played atop the high sand and rock hills and at certain times of the day we would hear the three tone call of the tugboat as it approached the old 9th Street Bridge requesting the bridge watcher to open up the bridge for entry to pick up barges. But to us it was a war call. The bridge attendant would respond by blaring off three tones as well. This soon was followed by bells ringing. The stop arm would go down and the 9th Street Bridge would go up. The tugboat would enter the narrow passage for Ryan to pick up the barges. My friends and I would gather up as many rocks as possible to bombard the vessel. But don't be fooled. The barge had rock guns. We used to call them Fred Flintstone guns. The cement company had vicious guard dogs to deter us from playing there, but the dogs were easily tamed and became our friends. Soon, they turned against their employers for yelling at us. Come to think of it, I miss Brownie! He was a good boy, but he needed a bath something awful.

For many years, the canal was supposed to be cleaned up, but many a generation saw that dream come and go. One time, they even tried putting bright florescent green dye in the water to brighten it up in the late 70's. It was nice to look at, but the effect didn't last very long. Buddy Scotto who owns the funeral home, had tried in the early eighties, but I think it was just a dream. There were even fliers passed around of people jet skiing in the water....ha, what a laugh, we all said. The canal was a rumored gangster dumping ground, especially the spot at the end of Bond Street. Seeing floaters was a common place. They would usually drift up towards the bay toward Hamilton Avenue where the N.Y.P.D. scuba team would hook em out. Then, it was play time as usual for us children.
Well, the Gowanus Canal, though not your upper class playground of course, taught me fear, friendship and adventure. Even to this day, I can still sometimes have nightmares of falling into it. I can also recall playing many a day with my friends on the (Public Place) lot on Smith Street and 5th Street . We would always see empty drums with green liquid around them. We never gave it much thought back then, but in recent years, some of my friends have died of cancer at young ages. I always wondered if those drums had something to do with it.
Back in those days, Carroll Park was actually the meeting place for all the neighborhood winos. They wore long trench coats and had beards but they were some of the most intelligent men you would have a conversation with. I used to bring them canned food which they used to cook over the boiler in the park house's mechanical room opposite the bathrooms. Smith Street was a no man's land. You would never walk there at dark past Union Street..it was just the times, you know. I'm now 43, live in Middletown, New Jersey. I own 2 acres and a 14 room house with a 4 car garage. I own my own business and am a refrigeration engineer. I had worked for Bruce Ratner for a short time as the building engineer at 1 Metro Tech Center on Jay Street. I opted to go into business for myself as an appliance and commercial cooking equipment repair man.
I enjoy recalling the old times and miss my friends who have passed on. Gone are the old ladies who would hose down and sweep the sidewalks, the fruit man coming down Court Street yelling: "APPLES,ORANGES,APPLES ORANGES," and the green ice truck. Believe it or not I'm not that old, but I caught the tail end of an era. I am still recognized by some of the neighborhood old timers as that "Hooligan from the canal." Yea, I'm proud of it and of my old neighborhood.