Received sad news over the weekend. Here’s the notice from Glenn Thomas via Facebook:

Unfortunately we lost another one of our Holy Name of Jesus school alums.

My fellow neighbor and friend growing up on #22 Sherman Street Michael Woodworth passed away at the age of 58.

“Woody” as almost everyone who knew him was a one of a kind character. Many of us have a few “Woody Stories” to tell and laugh about. He could have been a comedic actor if he chose that profession for he was that talented.  I always loved seeing him when he was visiting in the neighborhood. May he rest in peace. My condolences to his family.

RIP Woody…

Posted in Blog, Michael Woodworth, Sherman Street | 1 Comment


My mother, Carol Corbett passed away a few years ago…

She was a wonderful grandmother to my daughter Taylor.

Carol Corbett

If your mom is still alive, tell her you love her every day.

I wish I can tell Carol one more time that I love her…

Happy Mother’s Day mom.

I love you…

Your son,


Posted in Blog, Container Diaries | Tagged | 5 Comments


My guy Pat Fenton with a tremendous piece on his brother, “The Ice Cream Man.”


His drinking days were over now. They neared their end one night after he took a severe beating when someone followed him home and robbed him when he was drunk. When the eye swelling went down, he put on the last suit he owned and went looking for a job. He didn’t get it.


Posted in Blog, Pat Fenton | Tagged , , | 11 Comments



Be careful people…especially on Prospect Avenue between 9th and 10th.

Click on the story below and peep the video from the Bklyner.

A home security camera in Windsor Terrace captured video of a man trying to open a locked front door to a 3-family home on Prospect Avenue between 9th and 10th Avenues, just before midnight on Thursday, May 3.

On the video, the perp is spotted jimmying the door handle and peeking inside, before he discovers the camera and obscures himself from the lens. He is wearing a hoodie sweatshirt and a red baseball cap.

Stay safe…

Posted in Blog, Brooklyn, Brooklyn Bike Patrol, Prospect Avenue | Tagged | 2 Comments


A letter from Steve (2017) to Red (1978)…

Hey Red,

How you doing?

Just wanted to reach out to you and see what was up…


I hear you are not in school anymore. What’s up?

They tell me you dropped out, again. What’s this your third school?

What’s happening?

Something wrong?

You’re a good basketball player, you should be on the team. Get your shit together and get your ass back in school.

You need me to take you down to John Jay and enroll you?

I can take you in Coakley’s office and find out when try-outs are.

You know Jackie Ryan from East 5th street?

He played their last year and was the man.

You can do the same thing; they have a good team coming back.

How’s your mom? She’s good people. Hope you are treating her right.

Well, that’s all for now. Hope to hear from you soon.



Posted in Blog | 6 Comments


Be careful what they put on that pizza.

A chunk of an old apartment building in Park Slope broke off on Wednesday and crashed through the awning of a pizza joint below, startling customers at the restaurant and neighbors.


Park Slope Patch…

Posted in Blog, Smiling Pizza | Tagged , , | 1 Comment


By Pat Fenton

The following piece was posted on Pat’s Facebook Page…

The obituary in the upstate New York newspaper called him John “Jack” Malone.

It had a few facts about his life underneath his picture. Nothing much though, really.

It didn’t say that for 40 or more years he walked in the back door entrance to Farrell’s bar on the corner of 9th Avenue and 16th Street and sat where he always did at the very end of the bar. Always at the same spot.

Jacky Malone

It didn’t call him Jacky Malone. That’s what I always called him. We hung out together. He lived next door to me at 481 17th Street. I lived, and grew up at 483 17th Street. I knew more about him than probably some of his family. And he knew more about me than probably some of my family. He was like an older brother to me. Always giving me good advice. And all my life that street, that Irish working-class street filled with tough guys and lovers where we grew up kept coming back into my life. It always pulled me back.

It still does.

It was like the writer Peggy Noonan once said about Catholicism: “at some point, if you are lucky, being Catholic lands like a harpoon in your heart. You can swim away with that harpoon in your heart forever, but you will be pulled back.” Windsor Terrace is like that. Probably one of the last neighborhoods like that.

Recently, I was pulled back to 17th Street and Windsor Terrace for what turned out to be an Irish wake for Jacky Malone. It took place in Farrell’s Bar on the corner of 16th Street and 9th Avenue. Jacky Malone missed out on what the writer Denis Hamill once called a “marvelous three –cushion shot in the same zip code, Smith’s Funeral Home, Holy Name Church, and Greenwood Cemetery.”

Smith’s Funeral home, which was in Windsor Terrace for almost a hundred years, is closed now. From what I hear they turned part of it into a Dunkin Dounuts. But he got part of it. He got an Irish wake, something that never happens anymore in Windsor Terrace. “Hipsters”, the new people, don’t know much about Irish wakes. And I don’t imagine they really care about them.

Jacky’s sister, Snooki Malone, and her family brought his ashes down from Lake Luzerne in upstate, New York where he retired to a few years ago, and they had a funeral mass for him in Holy Name Church. After mass they all walked down 9th Avenue to Farrell’s Bar, like we used to do years ago after wakes and funerals from Smith’s. And they brought Jacky’s ashes with them.

After moving through the crowd of the bar with my wife Patricia and Gladys Mastrion , who also grew up on 17th Street, I didn’t notice until later that his ashes were placed in the very same spot he drank in for so many years. I ordered some drinks, stared into the long row of mirrors behind Farrell’s Bar that me and Jacky once stared into when we were so young, and then Gladys picked up her glass and the three of us walked down and tapped our glasses against Jacky’s ashes at the end of the bar.

Posted in Blog, Pat Fenton | Tagged , , , , , | 4 Comments