My Corner of Brooklyn - Public School 98

Steven B. Zwickel

July, 2025

Whenever someone asks me, (usually after they hear my accent) “Where are you from?” I don’t say, “New York.” I always reply, “Brooklyn.” There’s an important difference between the two, I think.

Nowadays, when you say you are from Brooklyn, people associate it with a trendy, artsy, affluent lifestyle. That does not describe me at all or the place where I grew up.

Brooklyn in the 1950s and 60s was nothing like the hipster neighborhood of today. My parents were hard-working, dedicated school teachers. I admired their work ethic, but learned to loathe the endless writing of quizzes and lesson plans, the stacks of papers waiting to be graded that seemed to have a permanent home on our dining room table, and the dark winter nights when my parents came home exhausted from having to attend in-service training sessions after a whole day of teaching. I promised myself that my dining room table would remain bare and beautiful when I grew up. {Of course I ended up becoming a teacher anyway!}

The New York Botanical Garden has a website called The Welikia Project  where you can compare what the area looks like today with what it was like 400 years ago: <https://www.welikia.org/map-explorer#9.5/40.7213/-73.9741>

Sheepshead Bay —above, as it looked 400 years ago

Sheepshead Bay —below, in 2025 with streets superimposed.

The part of Brooklyn I grew up in is the southern end of the borough in a neighborhood called Sheepshead Bay. Until the late 1890s, it was a woody, swampy area crossed by streams and creeks that ran into the Atlantic Ocean. 

The Bay opened up to the Rockaway Inlet and Jamaica Bay. It was home to a fishing fleet that served the New York area. Before the opening of the racetrack, it was a working-class neighborhood with a few fish-processing factories and other small businesses. 

Sheepshead Bay really was a fishing village (photo by Steven Zwickel)

After 1880, maps of Sheepshead Bay feature a large oval racetrack called the “Coney Island Jockey Club”, later the Sheepshead Bay Race Track. 

According to Jeffrey Stanton:

“The Coney Island Jockey Club,… led by August Belmont, Jr., William R. Travers, and A. Wright Sanford, began carving out their Sheepshead Bay track out of a maple and oak forest. When it opened in June 1880, its judges, W.K. Vanderbilt, J.G. Lawrence and J.H. Bradford were well known horsemen. It immediately became a successful race track and attracted wealthy men who thought of it as their playground. Horsemen like Bet-a-Million Gates, James Buchanan (Diamond Jim) Brady (steel salesman), A.J. Cassatt (railroad baron), Jesse Lewisohn and Abe Hummel were regulars and owned racehorses.” <https://www.westland.net/coneyisland/articles/horseracing.htm>

Stanton notes that the racetrack changed the neighborhood: 

“The whole stretch of shore on the north side of Sheepshead Bay was bought up by millionaires. They built docks for their yachts, lodges were they could live and entertain, and stables for their horses.”

One of the leading investors and co-founder of the Coney Island Jockey Club and the Sheepshead Bay Race Track was American financier Leonard Walter Jerome (1817–1891) the maternal grandfather of Sir  Winston Churchill. The street that carried racing fans from the train station at Sheepshead Bay to the racetrack was called Jerome Avenue. {Remember that street—it will come up again!}  

A Futurity is a horse race for two-year-old horses in which the horses' names are entered at birth, or even before the birth of a foal.

In 1910 the Sheepshead Bay Race Track closed after New York State Governor Charles Evans Hughes pushed the legislature to pass laws making betting on horses a crime. The owners tried a variety of events to draw crowds, but with little success. 

I remember seeing huge chunks of concrete along Nostrand Avenue when we first moved to Sheepshead Bay. These were the foundations of the racetrack outbuildings. When Nostrand Avenue was finally paved all the way south to Emmons Avenue at the bay, the concrete blocks were removed.
The racetrack made international news in 1911, when Calbraith “Cal” Rodgers, an inexperienced 32-year-old pilot, made the first transcontinental flight across the United States, flying between Sheepshead Bay and the West Coast in a Wright EX biplane. He carried the first transcontinental mail pouch and was accompanied on the ground by a support crew that repaired and rebuilt the plane after its numerous rough landings and crashes. <https://www.centennialofflight.net/essay/Explorers_Record_Setters_and_Daredevils/Vin_Fiz/EX6.htm>

Before it shut down in 1910, the success of the racetrack brought real estate development to the area and new housing led to the need for local schools. On August 27, 1897, the New York City Board of Education advertised in The Brooklyn Daily Times for “Proposals” for building Public School No. 98, on Avenue Z, between E  Twenty-sixth and Twenty-seventh streets.

1898 Map of Sheepshead Bay, Brooklyn, showing location of the race track and the new P.S. 98 building

Shortly thereafter—the cornerstone says 1898—a three-story red brick and stone school was built on Avenue Z between East 26th Street and East 27th. When I went to school there, I was told that the building had originally been constructed as a hospital for Spanish-American War veterans—thanks to a librarian at the Brooklyn Public Library, I now know that this was not true, but the same story was told about a number of other schools from the same vintage.

P.S. 98 in 1908 {NYC Dept of Records & Information Services "boe_75351"}

The school filled with students almost immediately, and the city issued a bond to cover the cost of “Erecting addition to Public School 98, H. Proust, contractor” on Dec. 9, 1898 for $61,337.00 according to the Brooklyn Times-Union of February 21, 1899. This may refer to the sections of the building to the east and west, which look different from the central building. 
There were six classrooms on each floor and a large area in the center of one floor was set up as an auditorium with a raised stage in front of the room. We had “Assembly” every Wednesday morning and boys were expected to wear a white shirt with a tie. The Assembly began with one of the teachers reading the 23rd Psalm to us—I don’t recall hearing anyone complain about religion in the school. When the polio vaccine became available, we reported to the auditorium for injections (Salk vaccine) or for drinking sugary vaccine (Sabin vaccine).
Each classroom had an open closet where we hung our coats and hats and left our snow boots. The desks were wooden and the top was hinged so it could be opened up, providing a place to keep books, pencils, rulers, etc. Students sometimes carved things into the wooden desktops and filled the carvings in with ink so they were visible. If the words were obscene, they went right over my young head. Once, maybe twice a year, the janitor would sand down all the desks and coat them with a thick layer of fresh shellac.
One or two walls had big blackboards—real black and often needing erasing. Every classroom had an American flag and a picture of George Washington. Each morning we recited the Pledge of Allegiance to the flag. The words "under God" were added in 1954 and I think some of the teachers were still getting used to that change.

We were spoiled. Since we weren’t allowed to wear jeans or sneakers to school, we all had two sets of clothes—one for school and one for playing. We tried to be cool and follow the latest trends (set by teenagers, of course). I remember the craze for white buck shoes (suede, and almost impossible to keep clean),  bleeding madras shirts (dyed with natural vegetable colorings. When the colors bled, which dyed the rest of the laundry. It was cool but drove parents crazy). We boys collected baseball (mostly Brooklyn Dodgers) and “Davy Crockett” trading cards. Almost every family had a dial telephone, a black-and-white TV set, and a car, or access to a car. Summer days were spent at the beach, which was just a few blocks away. On Wednesday nights in the summer, we could see and hear the fireworks at Coney Island.

Map of Sheepshead Bay showing location of schools—PS 98 and JHS14—with playgrounds cut by path of Jerome Avenue

The north side of the school contained someone’s idea of a playground—a large empty field covered in concrete and surrounded by a tall chain-link fence. The playground was not a rectangle; the northern edge ran at a diagonal from southwest to northeast. It apparently once faced what is now Jerome Avenue, which ran long ago from Sheepshead Bay Road to the racetrack near Gerritsen Avenue. The far end of the playground was cut off at an angle because it originally ended at Jerome Avenue. The avenue no longer goes there, but the same odd shape playground can be seen just a few blocks away, where the field of Shellbank Junior High School 14 is located.

Google Earth view of PS 98 (now a yeshiva) and playground cut off by path of Jerome Ave.

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1927 poster for the movie "It" with Clara Bow

One notable student (long before my time) at PS 98 was actress Clara  Bow, (1905–1965), born Clara Gordon Bow in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn, New York. Bow attended PS  98 in Sheepshead Bay until the eighth grade. Bow rose to stardom during the silent film era of the 1920s and successfully made the transition to "talkies" in 1929. Her appearance as a plucky shopgirl in the film It brought her global fame and the nickname "The It Girl". <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Clara_Bow> Bow came to personify the Roaring Twenties and has been called its leading sex symbol. [Stenn, David (2000). Clara Bow: Runnin' Wild]

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More housing was built in Sheepshead Bay, including some large apartment houses and the city finally realized that the “Baby Boom” was reality. By the time I started going to school at PS 98, it was very overcrowded. My class photo from 1959-60 shows  31+ students in class 5-305 (it was January, so there were probably others who were sick and didn’t make it). My 1960-61 class photo shows 35 students in 6-306. {Our classes were named for grade and room number; 5-305 was fifth grade in room 305, the top floor of the school building, which turned out to be the most dangerous in case of a fire!}

1940 New York City Tax Photo of PS 98 at Ave. Z and E. 27th Street in Brooklyn

In 1949, the Board of Education decided it was time for a new school to serve the area. On Jan. 25, the Brooklyn Eagle announced that the city would  "Break Ground for Sheepshead School Tomorrow" And, on Jan. 27, 1949, the Brooklyn Eagle ran a story called “P.S. 98 Ground-Breaking Launches 49 School Construction Program" 

“…The school is to take the place of P. S. 98 and will be known by the same number. It will be located on a square-block site bounded by Nostrand Ave., E. 29th St., Avenue Z and Voorhies Ave. The present school is at Avenue Z and E. 26th St.” The New York Times reported “New Building in Brooklyn Will Cost $1,344,237”. 

By March, 1949 the Brooklyn Eagle was able to report that "Schools Now Keeping Pace with New Housing Projects" and “By contrast-with the bleak picture presented by the educational facilities available to children in some of the city's pre-war housing projects; the outlook for the projects currently under construction is brightness itself.

“Most dramatic example of the change is Sheepshead Bay Houses where a new Public School 98 is under construction and will be completed even before all the housing units are built.

“Early plans, according to Assistant Superintendent of Schools George F. Pigott Jr., were to replace old Public School 98.” {The new school was called PS 52 and it did not replace PS 98 until 1964}

April 29, 1961 Article from Kings Courier {My dad was one of the "irate fathers"}

In 1961, the New York Fire Commissioner ordered the top floor of the school closed because of “hazardous conditions” including open stairways and open ducts, through which a fire could spread rapidly. [April 25, 1961 "Repairs at P.S.98" New York Times]. For 6 weeks we were bussed to PS 206 on Ocean View Ave. & Brighton 13th St. while repairs were underway. In December, 1961, the local school board submitted a request to the New York Board of Estimates to close PS 98. [“School Board No. 40 Official Requests” Brooklyn Daily Dec. 18, 1961]
PS 98 continued to be used as a primary school until 1964, when it was leased to Kingsboro Community College. Today the remodeled building is the Yeshiva of Kings Bay.
I remember my grade school teachers at PS 98, but I don’t know all their first names. Children in the 1950s would never think of calling a teacher by his or her first name. 
The Principal of PS 98 was Mr. Max J. Weiss, who had an air of authority and a big black mustache. My 1st grade teacher was the amazing Marcia Gross, who had incredible patience.  In 2nd grade I had Mrs. Golda Mollie "Geraldine" Goldstein Trubitz (1905 - 1991), who was married to Abraham "Bud" B. Truland Trubitz. (He worked as a model and he can be seen on the box covers of classic versions of Parker Brothers’ Masterpiece & Clue games; he's the sophisticated looking man with white hair and a fancy mustache)

All the boys had a crush on my 3rd grade teacher, Miss Ellen Steckler, who broke our hearts when she married another PS 98 teacher, Zachary Solovestzik. 

In 4th grade I had Pearl Gross, who had an interesting reward system. We each had a small spiral notebook and every time we did something good, she would give us 10 star stamps in our notebooks. The more stars, the better the rewards. 

January, 1960 My 5th Grade Class 5-305 in PS 98

Our fifth grade teacher Sophie Stock Ruggill had a sour stomach—she popped antacids all day—and a sour attitude. We were given American history textbooks and I decided I would read ahead to the end. Mrs. Ruggill was not pleased. The last chapter in the book was about how, in 1918,  the USA entered WWI after the German submarines sank our ships. I guess they didn’t think anything really important happened after that! It was this same Mrs. Ruggill who decided that I didn’t have what it took to be a crossing guard, helping kids cross 27th Street to get to Maxie’s candy store.

1961 My 6th Grade Class 6-306 in PS 98

I started 6th grade with Mr. Lindenbaum, but I think he left and then we had  Mrs. Cherry, who retired in mid-year and we finished 6th grade school with Mrs. Meyers. Size does matter—Mr. Lindenbaum had an 18” long ruler, which made quite an impression on his pupils. 

At the end of 6th grade, our time at PS 98 ended and we had a big party. I learned something new—a dance called the Twist. You could twist by yourself, but some boys actually danced with girls! I sort of did, too.
From PS 98, we went on to Shellbank Junior High School 14 for 7th, 8th, and 9th grades. {I admit to being biased—I hated just about everything at Shellbank} The USA was deep into the “Space Race” with the USSR, so we were allowed to apply for an “Enriched Curriculum” in junior high school. {I think they were hoping to turn out smarter Cold Warriors}. Those of us who did well on a standardized exam were allowed to choose between spending 2 years—skipping a year— or a 3-year program in junior high. That’s how I wound up in class 7 SPE-2, but that’s a different story.