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As anyone who has ever read the New York Times style section is well aware, Williamsburg is now synonymous with a hodgepodge of conflicting labels: hipster, yuppie, gentrifier, bourgeoise. In a way, the fire last year at a Williamsburg archive became an unfortunate symbol of the times: Developers have essentially pressed the restart button on newcomers' consciousness. You don't need to remember shit, just make sure you've got first and last month's rent.Condos glisten above the once-abandoned East River waterfront; empty warehouses are now "loft-inspired luxury townhouses," and Bedford Avenue, a thoroughfare once littered with syringes, is now swarming with selfie stick–carrying tour groups and SoHo-style boutiques. But before it was a playground for real estate brokers, Williamsburg was a mob stronghold. In fact, the Brooklyn neighborhood stretching from the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway down to Grand Street—now known primarily by the broker-invented monicker of East Williamsburg—was not only a hangout for members of the five families of New York, but also one of their original locales."It was not necessarily the center of a lot of violence, but it's where many future bosses got their start."—Christian Cipollini
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On a recent jaunt in Williamsburg, I stepped into Fortunato Brothers, an ornate Italian cafe on Manhattan Avenue, for a cup of coffee. The place itself is a rarity in New Brooklyn, where overpriced coffee shops are the rule, not traditional pastry makers with an autographed photo of Tony Bennett on the wall. And that showed in the spot's clientele: Mostly Italian-speaking residents ordered at the counter, and no one plugged into a Macbook was spotted anywhere near it.
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Yet the Italian-American energy of the area lingers. Longtime residents hang red, white, and green flags from their windows, while restaurants' doors remain plastered with signs for upcoming Italian festivals. Graham Avenue itself is alternatively called "Via Vespucci," and you can overhear Italian on some corners. Still, the ethnic enclave seems strange for a neighborhood as developed as Williamsburg is now. The immigrant is increasingly out of place here.Up Graham Ave, I met an older man named Jimmy, who told me he moved to the neighborhood in 1952, during the post-war boom, and has lived there ever since. He pointed to all the stores in front of us—a hummus market, an "urban puppy hotel," another damn coffee shop—and said, "None of this was ever here before." The area, he added, was "much more Italian"; now it's prime real estate. "Everywhere you go, there's a condo being built. It's terrible."The corner on which I spoke to Jimmy features an architect's office and one of those expensive old-school barbers that are popular now, but was once a well-known crime family headquarters called the Motion Lounge.…even the mob can't afford the rent anymore.
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