Living in Brooklyn, 1977 (The Summer of Sam), when the doctors nearly succeeded in killing me

By Jack Brummet, NYC Metro Ed.

My pal and my gal, Brooklyn, 1978

A shot I took from of our fire escape during a Brooklyn parade. The tall building is the House of Detention.

I shot I took from of our fire escape during a Brooklyn parade. The tall building is the House of Detention.

I moved to Brooklyn in June 1977, (The Summer of Sam), and after a couple of months living in a loft near The Bowery on the Lower East Side, we moved for two years to 324 Atlantic Ave. (between Smith and , right across the street from the Brooklyn House of Detention. On July 5th, I experienced a spontaneous pneumothorax that developed into double pneumonia with a fever of 106 one day (the very day the A/C was shut down due to the blackout).

It was seriously touch and go for a few days as to whether I'd make it or not. On July 13th, from my window in Long Island College Hospital, I watched as the lights on the World Trade Center dimmed and went out. And the great blackout and riots of 1977 began. I got out of the hospital three weeks later, in early August.

On August 10th, after a year of terror, they finally captured Son of Sam, and brought him, yeah, right across the street from our crib, to the House of Detention. It was a heady first couple of months in Brooklyn and NYC, to say the least. They've cleaned the place up a tad since we lived there. Back then, people would look kind of befuddled when you said you lived in Brooklyn. And getting a taxi home from Manhattan was virtually impossible unless you paid a double fare. It was a rude and harrowing introduction, but I loved every minute of it and Brooklyn and Manhattan have been part of my DNA ever since.

KeeKee Brummet and Jan Newberry probably saved my life that summer, and for that I'll be ever grateful to my pal and my gal.

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