63rd Drive & Wetherole St
Photo Gallery: 63rd Drive

key food
Just south of Wetherole Street, a Key Food supermarket taking up the remaining half of the block after the church, unseen off camera. The distinctive red and white Triboro Coach bus heads south towards Woodhaven Boulevard several blocks past the tracks. After the Key Food is the successor to the Shalimar Diner, which was built during an early 1970's explosion of Greek diners, following the February 1972 obliteration of a row of stores and a public library by one of Rego Park's most spectacular infernos ever.
from booth
One small step backward. We're in front of PS 139 gazing towards Wetherole. Note the Art Deco touch of glass blocks over the entrance to the business between the optical store and Sachal's Hardware. That used to be the Tribowl Bowling Alley. The only store there with the same name as when I was a kid is the Gallery 63 frame store, a couple of fronts in from Wetherole.
closerZooming a little closer and looking past Wetherole, we find a surviving but star crossed row of stores that have been hit by a number of fires over the years. A new public library was built on the block just past them, a couple of years after the 1972 destruction of the original. The new library replaced the Shell service station from where my father and I watched the stores burn across the Drive. The winds that brutal February afternoon were horrendous and the huge blaze threatened apartments behind the stores, the railroad just above the library as well as the then brand new Key Food building across Austin Street. As it was, at one point, flames blew clear across Austin, incinerating at least one parked car and lapping Key Food's walls. That Key Food, however, had a fireproof exterior and never caught fire. If its predecessor store had still been there, a bedding shop full of ultra flammable merchandise, not only would it have gone in a minute, but the old church next to it would certainly have been next. Just imagine if instead of flying back and forth from north to south, the flames had reared westward and hit that Shell station! Boom, bang, no more Rego Park! My father and I were actually supposed to go visit his mother that day, and just before the wind shifted again and sent the blaze barreling into the library, he crossed under the tracks to phone her from another service station by Alderton Street. By the time he got back only a few minutes later, the library, filled to the gills with old oily plastic covered books and wooden shelving units, had already caved in. Ironically, the station he called from was an Esso, soon to be renamed Exxon, and who worked there but the same mechanic who had serviced our cars in an infamous garage discussed elsewhere on this site, on 66th Avenue several years earlier; the one who always left our cars with more leaks than they came to him with. Even he would have been blown up if that fire had roared up the dead grass and trees and vaulted across the railroad tracks, so oily and full of creosote as they undoubtably were.

© 2001, Jeff Saltzman.