Streetscapes Bedford-Stuyvesant
Once Exclusive Enclaves, Subject to Change
Andrea Mohin/The New York Times

IN the case of tiny Agate Court in Brooklyn, perhaps the sincerest form of flattery is not imitation, but annexation. The little cul-de-sac of 18 row houses off chaotic Atlantic Avenue in southern Bedford-Stuyvesant was built in the late 1880s along with the flanking Alice Court, and the two have slumbered for more than a century with little change.

But now the owner of land backing up on Agate Court seeks to demolish a wall separating his Herkimer Street plot from this row house nook, appropriating both the address and the prestige of a postage-stamp street of which few have ever heard.

Its builder, the Swiss-born Florian Grosjean, came to the United States in the 1840s and established a metal-stamping business in Woodhaven to make kitchen and household utensils. He also built Agate and Alice Courts at right angles to Atlantic Avenue, between Albany and Kingston Avenues.

Melvin McCray, who lives with his wife, Jan, at No. 3 Agate Court, says he has found building records indicating that construction began in 1888 with houses on what was at first simply called “private street.” Agate was a reference to Mr. Grosjean’s household products; Alice was the name of his daughter.

The architect was Walter M. Coots, a lesser-known Brooklyn designer, who developed a few ingenious designs to vary the facades. Some houses have very large arched windows on the ground floor and, paired with the matching window on a mirror-image neighbor, make a superscale statement. Some have small oriel windows in oval shapes resting on corbeled brickwork, laid in rows that gradually project from the facade.

It appears that Agate Court was built first. The Brooklyn Daily Eagle carried an advertisement in 1889 offering No. 6 Agate Court for rent, noting the “private street, asphalt pavement, fountain, lawn, etc.”

Alice Court was certainly finished by 1892, when an ad in The Eagle described the pair as “perfect gems for quiet refined families,” and when Mr. Grosjean offered the houses for rent, charging $500 to $600 a year.

By 1894, an article in The Eagle was calling Agate “a very short and very exclusive little street” whose prospective tenants were required to produce “the highest testimonials as to social and financial standing.”

And the early tenants were reasonably prosperous. There was Charles Augur, a twine merchant, who lived at No. 3 Agate Court, and Amédée Braiteau, a French-born hair dealer, who lived at No. 18.

Unlike late-19th-century houses in other areas, these escaped gruesome 20th-century alterations. There are modern replacement doors and windows and, at least on Alice Court, some startling paint colors. But there is no Permastone, no missing stoops, no aluminum siding.
In 2006, a developer, Shlomo Menashe, bought the property then designated as 412 Herkimer Street, which backs up directly onto Agate Court, separated only by a retaining wall that appears to have been added after the original houses. He then received permission from Marty Markowitz, the borough president, to rename his Herkimer plot “19 Agate Court.”
Later that year, his engineer, Gad Ashoori, filed plans for a three-family house, and during site work the dividing wall began tilting. Then, Mr. Ashoori’s plans were disapproved by the Buildings Department, and work stopped altogether.

Mr. McCray said the supporting beams reinforcing the wall were put there by Mr. Menashe’s contractor; neither Mr. Menashe nor Mr. Ashoori responded to requests for comment. Mrs. McCray said she and her neighbors had filed suit to stop construction.

Residents have also asked for historic district status, and Lisi de Bourbon, a spokeswoman for the Landmarks Preservation Commission, said the matter was under review.

There are several elements that complicate the case of these little streets. The dividing wall is on the original Agate Court plot of land, but Agate and Alice Courts gave up their private status decades ago, so the wall may well be owned by the city — which could demolish or protect it as it sees fit.

But if landmark designation does come, the wall — regardless of who owns it — will most likely render untenable Mr. Menashe’s project to break through, while adding to the prestige of the street that he has brought to public attention.