The Marquee

The lights above the Beverly marquee chattered away that night, “clickety clack, clickety clack, clickety clack”. Like some old F-train heading up the elevated way down McDonald Avenue late at night, the sound of the yellow bulbs turning on and off was almost mesmerizing, and sounding very much like the subway train when it climbed up that steep hill of iron rails headed up to Ditmas Avenue.

With a bitter Winter’s wind blowing from the direction of Fourteenth Avenue, the marquee just stood there, holding it’s own against the coldest January wind that Kensington has seen in years. Yes, like some old soldier made of steel, plastic, and one foot high red Helvetica letters. The mighty marquee of the Beverly never once cared what Mother Nature blew its way.

“Clickety clack, clickety clack, clickety clack”.

This was Kensington Brooklyn 1969,
and yes I remember it well.

Ron Lopez
Mopar195@yahoo.com