Bridge and Tunnel Slaughterhouse Stampede

The name itself? – oh boy. Here it goes. When I was a kid, I had a father-figure in my life – an old Italian dude that was born in 1916, and grew up down near the Brooklyn Navy Yard. He spent 6 years in the military (including 3 years in North Africa and Europe during WWII). A boxer during his military years, and a fighter (literally and figuratively) to the end. And by literally I mean this guy taking out a neighbor who crossed him at the ripe age of 75. So this guy used to tell very colorful stories, often around the dinner table. As a kid, I just listened. I didn’t realize how special most of the stories were in terms of historical significance. When he was a little boy growing up on the streets of Brooklyn down near the navy yard, he had vivid memories of vessels coming into dock, and offloading cattle from the vessels, which were then hearded in large clusters down the cobblestone streets, to the slaughter houses. And if you were on the street when they were coming, he recalled literally having to duck into doorways, or climb up stoops to get our of their path. Imagine that? Cattle blazing down the streets in Brooklyn, and scaring the shit out of the general population. I love that story, and the guy who told it.