Trolley Dodger

In 1957, a year that will live in infamy for many baseball fans, the Brooklyn Dodgers packed up all their cares and woe and headed west to Los Angeles.

Brooklyn fans were devasted by the news and they directed all their hatred toward Walter O’Malley, the real estate businessman who acquired majority ownership of the team in 1950.

The 2007 HBO documentary, “Brooklyn Dodgers: The Ghosts of Flatbush,” noted that if you asked a Brooklyn Dodger fan whom they shoot if they had a gun with only two bullets and were facing Hitler, Stalin, and O'Malley, the answer would be “O'Malley, twice!"

Now, all you of old time Dodger fans, please put down your weapons, because, as I note in my blog’s bio, I was “born in Brooklyn in the same year the Dodgers moved out”-- and I had absolutely nothing to do with it.

The team was once known as the Brooklyn Trolley Dodgers, which was reportedly coined by Manhattanites to mock the Borough of Church’s extensive surface transit system.

Trolleys switched from the horse-drawn variety to electricity in 1892, making them faster and potentially more dangerous, so you have to be light on your feet.

No Man is an Island

There were 1,344 miles of track in New York by 1920—roughly the distance between the city and Nebraska-- but ridership was already beginning to taper off.

My mother used to tell me how much she like the trolley that ran through our neighborhood in Bay Ridge because she always got a seat—unlike the damn bus, which replaced the trolley.

The last trolley line to run in New York crossed over the Queensboro Bridge and connected passengers to Roosevelt Island.

And when did this final run occur? April 6…1957.

I learned this little bit of history during a visit yesterday to the New York Transit Museum, a fabulous facility located in the old Court Street subway station.

The place has tons of New York City transportation memorabilia, including several vintage subway cars—even the ancient ones with the wicker seats and overhead fans—that were decorated with the old ad posters.

I have been threatening to visit this museum for the longest time, partially because I thought it would be cool (which it was), but also because I’m doing research for a novel.

Naturally on Saturday morning I started running through the list of excuses for not going and for sitting home on my butt, eating Chinese food and watching TV.

Step lively

But as my shrink Henry used to say—by way of Hillel the Elder—"if not now, when?" So, I got on the subway to go look at more subways.

Now I must confess that I really hate riding the subways. They’re loud, slow, potentially dangerous, and too goddamn far from my house.

I only like subways when they become history—sort of like sports. I don’t know anything about New York’s current baseball teams, but I’m fascinated by the Brooklyn Dodgers.

The transit museum has an excellent staff who were so helpful and courteous when I told them about my project. They even emailed me a map of bus and trolley routes from the 1940s.

Walking around the museum was like going back in time, when women wore hooped skirts, men were straw hats, and trolleys were the way to go.

The only letdown was that tidbit about the final trolley ride to Roosevelt Island, but it was a small price to pay. And I don’t think trolley lovers are as violent as Dodger fans.

As I rode home on the R train, I listed all the good things that had happened.

I went to some place new; I scratched an item off my lengthy to-do list, I worked on my book, and I met some wonderful people.

It was time to celebrate with an order of Chicken Lo Mein and my widescreen TV.