How this NYC Neighborhood Became the Most Gentrified in… — Transcript

Gentrification, a heated topic when neighborhoods trade in gritty charm for glass high-rises and 20-somethings with trust funds. But wait, isn't that a good thing? The neighborhood getting safer and cleaner and all these fast casual spots? No, you're giving up actual culture for thinly veiled shiny monoculture. What do you think? Don't look at me. Regardless of where you fall on the highly debated topic of gentrification, when you ask almost any New Yorker what neighborhood comes to mind when you use the G-word, they will say Williamsburg. Looking at it today, you would not guess its origins. Said it was once one of the most important industrial centers on the East Coast, then a land of abandoned factories and lots, and then the unlikely birthplace of one of the most vibrant art scenes that New York City has ever produced. And today I'm in that same Williamsburg, standing in front of countless boutique shops, designer stores, and yep, fast casual hotspots. Williamsburg, Brooklyn, has become the textbook example of intense gentrification in New York City and the US at large. So, how did it get like this? Buckle up. It's an interesting one. First, let's get oriented. Williamsburg is located here in the Brooklyn borough of New York City. Williamsburg was actually an independent village, part of the greater town of Bushwick in the early 1800s. But as it continued to urbanize, it formally seceded to become its own standalone town in the year 1840. As you can see, Williamsburg is conveniently located just across the East River from Manhattan's Lower East Side, right there on the waterfront. For this very reason, Williamsburg transformed into an industrial powerhouse in the 1800s, as its prime riverfront location allowed factories to easily receive raw materials and export finished goods. It's hard to picture today with the sweet smells of Aesop and Joe's Pizza in its place. But a walk through Williamsburg in 1900 would have completely assaulted your senses. The acrid sweetness of the Domino Sugar Refinery burning along the waterfront. The clay and smoke of shipyards, the yeasty smell of the Schaefer and Reinold breweries just a few blocks in. It wasn't exactly a pretty scene. The industrial focus, of course, would later change. With its industrial boom and proximity to Manhattan, Williamsburg's population naturally exploded. So much so that by 1917 it became one of the most densely populated neighborhoods in all of New York City and therefore the country. So who were the early people that lived here and what was Williamsburg's culture like at that time? Let's take a look. Like all of New York City, Williamsburg was a true melting pot. Irish and German settlers were the first to inhabit Williamsburg in the 1800s, working the many factory jobs at the time. As industries grew, these German and Irish immigrants would crowd into rapidly constructed six-story tenements or early brick row houses which had notoriously bad living conditions. The tenement life in early Williamsburg poverty is depicted in the book that I'm reading right now. The famous 1943 novel by Betty Smith titled A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. It's also set in early 1900s Williamsburg, showing kids scavenging junk for pennies, mothers stretching completely stale bread into multiple meals. It's a vivid window into what life actually looked like here for these early working-class immigrants living in poor conditions. If you know where to look, there are actually some tenements left standing like this one on Driggs Avenue. This was at one time one of the densest blocks, densely populated blocks in New York City, housing 5,000 people just in this block. And now it's just a stone's throw away from a Thai restaurant called Nudes and Chill. Then the mix of immigrants and population really changed with the completion of the Williamsburg Bridge in 1903. So many Jewish families that were living in the overcrowded, squalid tenements of Manhattan's Lower East Side crossed the Williamsburg Bridge that it literally got nicknamed Jews' Highway by the New York Herald and New York Tribune. Italian immigrants also fled the overcrowded Lower East Side simultaneously. And within 10 years of the bridge's opening, the population of Williamsburg had doubled to 250,000 people. At that point, the better-off Irish and Germans began to leave. Sound familiar? It should, because this same pattern of a new group arriving, the previous one leaving is exactly what this video and so many New York City neighborhoods are all about. Williamsburg, in particular, I found out as I did the research for this video. The sheer speed of demographic turnover is unusual even by New York standards. So, I will go through it efficiently here. Later in the 1930s and especially after World War II, Hungarian Hasidic Jews arrived in South Williamsburg in mass. Specifically, the Satmar Hasidim, whose community you can still find here today, south of Division Avenue, where I am right now. They've built an almost entirely insular community with their own schools, businesses, social services, entirely by design. Many of the Jewish immigrants were Holocaust survivors who had lost everything, and they deliberately built up their community here to preserve their culture and not have to rely on the outside world because of what they had just been through. As we will later see, the Hasidic community is one of the only ones that is still here in large numbers and actually growing rapidly. After the Hasidic Jews in South Williamsburg came the Puerto Ricans in the 1960s and then later the Dominicans, drawn by the many factory jobs along the waterfront. They settled in and built a real community in what became known as Los Sures, which is Spanish for the south, referring to the south side of Williamsburg. There's a 1984 documentary called Los Sures that depicts the neighborhood at its peak, which included both neighbors who danced with each other in the streets and kids playing in yards, and also a neighborhood plagued by serious violence, even by 1980s New York City standards, where violent crime was already high. Which brings us to the start of the shift. All of these communities, the Irish, Germans, Italians, Jews, Puerto Ricans, they either came as refugees and or for work. And starting in 1950, the work started to leave. So, how did things change? Leaving all my worries, I prepare for something new. One by one, the sugar refineries, the shipyards, the breweries, the industries that had made Williamsburg one of the most densely populated neighborhoods in America were shutting their doors. In 1961, Williamsburg had 93,000 manufacturing jobs. By the 1990s, that number had fallen below 12,000. The factories didn't disappear all at once. They bled out over three decades as manufacturing moved south and then overseas as they chased cheaper costs. What was left behind was a neighborhood full of enormous empty buildings and tens of thousands of people whose livelihoods had just been wiped out. Puerto Rican and Dominican families were hit particularly hard by this change. And this de-industrialization marks the first major shift. The late 1970s through the late 1980s was sort of an in-between period for Williamsburg because what was left in the wake of empty buildings and missing jobs was not cute. Brooklyn, alongside most of New York City at the time, was besieged by violent crime. With the murder rate at this time rarely dropping below 200 per million residents, about five times higher than New York City's rate today. Williamsburg was no exception. Officers in a nearby precinct reportedly kept a sign on the wall that said, "You give us 22 minutes, we'll give you a homicide," which was a dark twist on a popular radio slogan at the time. "You give us 22 minutes, we'll give you the world." These crime stats feel like an unlikely precursor to what would come next, which is what...

culture for thinly veiled shiny monoculture. What do you think? Don't look at me. Regardless of where you fall on the highly debated topic of gentrification, when you ask almost any New Yorker what neighborhood comes to mind when you use the G-word, they will

say Williamsburg. Looking at it today, you would not guess its origins. Said it was once one of the most important industrial centers on the East Coast, then a land of abandoned factories and lots, and then the unlikely birthplace

of one of the most vibrant [music] art scenes that New York City has ever produced. And today I'm in that same Williamsburg, standing in front of countless boutique shops, designer stores, and yepy fast casual hotspots.

Williamsburg, Brooklyn, has become the textbook example of intense gentrification in New York City and the US at large. So, how did it get like this? Buckle up. It's an interesting one.

[music] [music] First, let's get oriented. Williamsburg is located here in the Brooklyn burrow of New York City. [music] Williamsburg was actually an independent village, part of the greater town of Bushwick in the early 1800s. But as it continued to

urbanize, it formally seceded to become its own standalone town in the year 1840. As you can see, Williamsburg is conveniently located just across the East River from Manhattan's Lower East Side, right there on the waterfront. For this very reason, Williamsburg

transformed into an industrial powerhouse in the 1800s, as its prime riverfront location allowed factories to easily receive raw materials and export finished goods. It's hard to picture today with the sweet smells of Asop and Joe's Pizza in its place. But [music] a

walk through Williamsburg in 1900 would have completely assaulted your senses. [music] The acrid sweetness of the Domino Sugar Refinery burning along the waterfront. The clay and smoke of shipyards, the yeasty smell of the Schaefer and Rinold breweries just a few

blocks in. It wasn't exactly a pretty scene. The industrial focus of course [music] would later change. With its industrial boom and proximity to Manhattan, Williamsburg's population naturally exploded. [music] So much so that by 1917 it became one of

the most densely populated neighborhoods in all of New York City and therefore the [music] country. So who were the early people that lived here and what was Williamsburg's culture like at that time? Let's take a look.

[music] Like all of New York City, Williamsburg was a true melting pot. Irish and German settlers were the first to inhabit Williamsburg in the 1800s, working the many factory jobs at the time. As industries grew, these German and Irish

immigrants would crowd [music] into rapidly constructed six-story tenementss or early brick row houses which had notoriously bad living conditions. The tenement life in early Williamsburg poverty is depicted in the book that I'm reading right now. The famous 1943 novel

by Betty Smith titled A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. It's also set in early 1900s Williamsburg, showing kids scavenging junk for pennies, mothers stretching completely stale bread into multiple meals. It's a vivid window into what life actually looked like here for these

early workingclass immigrants living in poor conditions. If you know where to look, there are actually some tenementss left standing like this one on Driggs Avenue. This was at one time one of the densest blocks, densely populated blocks in New York City, housing 5,000 people

just in this block. And now it's just a stones throw away from a Thai restaurant called Nudes and Chill. Then the mix of immigrants and population really changed with the completion of the Williamsburg Bridge in 1903. So many Jewish families

that were living in the overcrowded, squalid tenementss of Manhattan's Lower East Side crossed the Williamsburg Bridge that it literally got nicknamed Jews Highway by the New York Herald in New York Tribune. Italian immigrants also fled the overcrowded Lower East

Side simultaneously. And within 10 years of the bridge's opening, the population of Williamsburg had doubled to 250,000 people. At that point, the better off Irish and Germans began to leave. Sound familiar? It should, because this same pattern of a new group arriving, the

previous one leaving is exactly what this video and so many New York City neighborhoods are all about.

Williamsburg, in particular, I found out as I did the research for this video. The sheer speed of demographic turnover is unusual even by New York standards.

So, I will go through it efficiently here. Later in the 1930s and especially after World War II, Hungarian Hidetic Jews arrived in South Williamsburg in mass. Specifically, the Sautmar Hidum, whose community you can still find here today, south of Division Avenue, where I

am right now. They've built an almost entirely insular community with their own schools, businesses, social services, entirely by design. Many of the Jewish immigrants were Holocaust survivors who had lost everything. and they deliberately built up their community here to preserve their culture

and not have to rely on the outside world because of what they had just been through. As we will later see, the Hetic community is one of the only ones that is still here in large numbers and actually growing rapidly. After the

Hetic Jews in South Williamsburg came the Puerto Ricans in the 1960s and then later the Dominicans, drawn by the many factory jobs along the waterfront. They settled in and built a real community in what became known as Los Sures, which is

Spanish for the south, referring to the south side of Williamsburg. There's a 1984 documentary called Los Sures that depicts the neighborhood at its peak, which included both neighborhoods who dance with each other in the streets and kids playing in yards, and also a

neighborhood plagued by serious violence, even by 1980s New York City standards, where violent crime was already high. Which brings us to the start of the shift. All of these communities, the Irish, Germans, Italians, Jews, Puerto Ricans, they either came as refugees and or for work.

And starting in 1950, the work started to leave. So, how did things change? Leaving all [singing and music] my worries, I prepare for something new.

One by one, the sugar refineries, the shipyards, the breweries, the industries that had made Williamsburg one of the most densely populated neighborhoods in America were shutting their doors. In 1961, Williamsburg had 93,000 manufacturing jobs. By the 1990s, that

number had fallen below 12,000. The factories didn't disappear all at once. They bled out over three decades as manufacturing moved south and then overseas as they chased cheaper costs.

What was left behind was a neighborhood full of enormous empty buildings and tens and thousands of people whose livelihoods had just been wiped out.

Puerto Rican and Dominican families were hit particularly hard by this change. And this de-industrialization marks the first major shift. The late 1970s through the late 1980s was sort of an in between period for Williamsburg because what was left in the wake of empty

buildings and missing jobs was not cute. Brooklyn alongside most of New York City at the time was besieged by violent crime. With the murder rate at this time rarely dropping below 200 per million residents, about five times higher than

New York City's rate today. Williamsburg was no exception. Officers in a nearby precinct reportedly kept a sign on the wall that said, "You give us 22 minutes, we'll give you a homicide," which was a dark twist on a popular radio slogan at

the time. "You give us 22 minutes, we'll give you the world." These crime stats feel like an unlikely precursor to what would come next, which is what a lot of people look at as Williamsburg's golden era. [music] I am very excited to talk about this

section. Starting in the late 1980s, artists began arriving in Williamsburg. Specifically, the artists who had been priced out of the artistic Manhattan neighborhoods like the East Village in Soho. They caught wind of a place right across the East River having huge,

empty, affordable lofts and warehouses from the shutdown factories. Those artists take the gritty unreliable Elra, which side note looked like this at the time. That was a big rabbit hole for Taylor, into Williamsburg. And keep in mind, things were still rough at this

point. The north side of Williamsburg was totally desolate with empty lots and abandoned factories. And the south side, as discussed, was still riddled with drugs and gang violence. So, as it was put in an interview with author Robert

Anassie, only the most intrepid artists considered settling in the post-industrial crackridden Williamsburg. In addition to their fearlessness, something else made these newcomer artists in Williamsburg different. They were largely middle class college graduates, artists, entrepreneur types who deliberately put

off having kids and a mortgage until later on so they could make music and art, share it, and open businesses. What they built in the spaces that they found and what Williamsburg really felt like at that time is better described than I

ever could in this article I found in the City Journal. So, I'm going to read you one of my favorite passages. The inside of those abandoned trash fil warehouses became the sites of some of 1990s Williamsburg's most memorable

events. All night multimedia immersion bachanelas. I had to look that word up. I'm not going to lie. The genre bending parties brought together video artists, punk bands, stilt walkers, painters, sculptors, sword swallowers, contortionists, conceptual artists, and other imaginative souls. One of the most

celebrated of these extravaganzas was called Organism. Held in the old Dutch Mustard Factory, a brick pile built in 1908, the immense space was ideal for letting creative people go wild. hang your stuff, read your stuff, play your stuff, project your stuff, get involved.

Read one poster from the 1993 organism. 100 artists, 2400 guests in total, wandered the space all night, seeing everything from exploding watermelons to performers repelling down silos. The artists were small in number, around 2,000 or so in Williamsburg at the time.

But some were convinced that Williamsburg at the moment was home to the largest enclave of artistic talent ever to congregate in one community in American history. They might have been right. Goosebumps. I read you these passages because one, I wasn't there. I

wasn't alive yet. And I think this author does a perfect job describing it. And two, I very frankly think it's easy to be like, "Oh, the artist came and then just freeloaded on cheap abandoned real estate." But they were genuinely

producing real cultural work that 1,000% laid the groundwork for what Williamsburg would go on to become. One name that kept coming up in my research was Andrew Tarlo, a struggling bartender and painter who moved from Manhattan to South Williamsburg for loft space in the

'90s. He and a friend found a run-down abandoned training car, did some DIY handiwork, and started a small restaurant out of it that they would call Diner. Diner and Andrew Tarlo would go on to pioneer the artisal food

movement in Brooklyn. And there are so many stories just like his. By 1992, the word was out. Williamsburg was on the cover of the New York magazine, the new Bohemia, over the bridge to Williamsburg, where 2,000 artists were

reported to be living in this workingclass neighborhood. Through all of this, Williamsburg was also becoming a lot safer. Through a mix of broken window theory policing under Mayor Giuliani and police commissioner Bratton, the end of the crack epidemic,

and other drivers, murders in the local precinct fell 91% from their 1993 peak, marking one of the most dramatic crime turnarounds in American history. This combination of cheap space, creative momentum, and now actual safety made Williamsburg a pretty great place to

live. For about 15 years, from 1990 to 2005, the golden era of Williamsburg thrived. The iconic venues like Zebulon, Grasslands Gallery, Trash Bar, Death by Audio, Galopagos, 285 Kent. I'm listing them off like I've actually been to any

of them. I haven't. They don't exist anymore. But when they did, it sounded like it was pretty freaking awesome.

Like you could see a band on a Tuesday night for the cost of a beer, not knowing that those same artists would headline a festival in 3 years. [music] And that was the golden era. A short window where the artists entrepreneurs

revived a neighborhood [music] to have creative infrastructure and real cultural weight that would draw more people in for decades to come. But as we know, windows like this don't last forever. By 2005, people who saw what Williamsburg had become and what it

could become started to make moves. [music] All of this waterfront, the very thing that made Williamsburg a perfect spot for factories, is also what made it a prize for real estate developers over a hundred years later. In Mayor

Bloomberg's inaugural address on January 1st, 2002, he said, "We will bring new life to our waterfront and simulate new investment in housing." Three short years later, in May of 2005, Bloomberg's administration put a proposal before the city council to upzone 175 blocks of the

Williamsburg and Greenpoint waterfront. This proposal would replace height restrictions with permission to build towers up to 40 stories high along the East River. Despite efforts from Brooklyn's community board, the Brooklyn Burough President, and community activists to stop the proposal from

going through, the city council committee, who has final say, unanimously accepted the proposal. However, there are some elements within the resoning. For example, the developers agreeing to make at least 20% of the units affordable to lower and middle-income New Yorkers that were in

there in part due to the efforts of the community activists. Fast forward to today and real estate developers have built 17,000 new units along the Williamsburg and Greenpoint [music] waterfront, including 2100 affordable units. That's about 12% of the total.

Not nothing, but below the agreed upon 20%. [music] flagship factories have been torn down or renovated for commercial and residential use. Most notably, the Domino Sugar Factory. More on that in a bit. Unsurprisingly, the reasonzoning has drawn a lot of criticism. What was

not too long ago a place for creatives and affordable housing became within a decade one of the most expensive zip codes in Brooklyn. On one side, many of the communities that had called Williamsburg home for decades, like the

Puerto Rican families of Lures and the artists who had built the neighborhood's desiraability from nothing were generally not the communities that were moving into the waterfront towers. The affordable housing quota fell short of what was agreed upon. The music and

artistic venues that defined the neighborhood's golden era all shut down. On the other side, the factories were already gone and abandoned. The industrial economy had left Williamsburg decades before Bloomberg's proposal went through. By 2005, the question wasn't whether to preserve manufacturing, but

rather what to do with miles of empty waterfront and one of the most supply constrained housing markets in the world. 21 affordable apartments is still 2100 families with affordable housing.

And Domino Park right over there is amazing waterfront access open to the public that didn't exist before. Point being, it's not so black and white.

Economies change, neighborhoods change, but it is indisputable that Williamsburg no longer looks like it did in its golden era. So, what exactly did come next in the new Williamsburg?

In the 10 [music] years after the resoning plan passed, Williamsburg transformed into a hipster haven. Vice Media, originally a scrappy arts and counterculture magazine in Montreal, left their Manhattan offices for a stretch of abandoned warehouses on Kent Avenue in Williamsburg in the year 2000.

Actually, they were early. As the New York Times put it, Vice's writers, editors, and videographers helped turn Williamsburg into a media phenomenon.

Vice would go on to declare bankruptcy and then sell for a fraction of its highest valuation. But alas, similar new age creative internet companies would follow suit. Etsy, a creative independent online marketplace known for crafty handmade goods, was founded in a

nearby Brooklyn apartment in 2005 by a 24-year-old. These companies and many others would go on to become valued in the billions of dollars, solidifying the artistic playground that Williamsburg had built in the decades prior into a very real place for creative businesses.

New arrivals came to Williamsburg because of the artistic reputation, bringing with them salaries that the artists before didn't have. They had strong opinions about vinyl and cared deeply about where their coffee came from. Not in a pretentious way, of

course. No, no. But in a supporting small roasters kind of way. They might have had this haircut. Sound familiar?

That's right. The original 2010s hipster was born right here. As the hipsters sprouted up in the neighborhood, so did the places that served them. Fetches opened up on Metropolitan Avenue in 2007. A former garage converted into a smoked meat temple with communal picnic

tables and an absurd whiskey list. It is now closed. Mason premiere came a few years later on Bedford Avenue. An absin and oyster bar designed to look like a 19th century New Orleans speak easy. Now these weren't dive bars and they were

not exactly [music] super fancy restaurants, but sort of an interesting in between that Williamsburg kind of pioneered. The cafes were their own breed as well. Devosion, a Colombian roster, opened in 2013 on Grand Street and became somewhat of a template for

the Instagrammable coffee shop before the word Instagrammable was a household adjective. [music] Smoresburg, Nighthawk Cinema, Cafe de la Ekina. The list of these new places to eat and hang out literally endless. And it wasn't just these artisal food and

coffee spots. It was also normal shops andarmacies like CVS and Dwayne Reed. And the arrival of classic chain stores like this is as strong of a signal as any that the market here was really growing. The New York Times called this

era of these different establishments popping up the yepification train. I wish I came up with that myself, but credit where it's due. This was the hipster yepification era from roughly 2005 to 2015. And it is the time that a

lot of people refer to when they say, "I remember when Williamsburg was cool." Sure, it wasn't the raw '90s warehouse original golden era scene, but it was still a pre-corporate independent feeling creative version of Williamsburg. It was genuinely fun. Or

so I read. By the mid-2010s, the towers along the waterfront that the 2005 resoning had permitted were in their final phases of construction. The word hipster became a Halloween costume and the median rent had crossed a certain threshold where places like this, this,

and this knew they would be serving their target customer, which brings us finally to today's phase, peak gentrification. As I hope you can tell, I put a lot of research into these videos. Running a YouTube channel is genuinely its own little media business.

In the research phase, sourcing articles, academic papers, interviews, it adds up fast. Well, there's a tool that I've been using that helps execute business ideas. It's called Axio Work, and it's an agentic AI platform built for real business operations, product

sourcing, supplier discovery, workflow management. But what I love is that you can build custom agents around whatever your specific operation looks like. So, I built one. [music] His name's Hank. He has glasses. I gave Hank a research persona and analytical skills, connected

him to my notion, where I write my scripts, and told him what to look for.

Now, when I start a new video, Hank pulls a curated set of sources with a oneliner on each and drops them straight into my notion page. No copy pasting or organizing on my end needed. It's just ready to go. Hank can work directly with

my other agents who have different skills as well, like Bert, who's a clerical wiz. Whatever your workflow looks like, there is likely a piece of it that could be handled by Axio work.

And this isn't AI replacing your thinking. This is giving you the mental space to work on the tasks that actually matter. So download it for desktop using the link in my description and unlock extra bonus credits when you sign up.

Thanks Axio Work. And now back to Williamsburg. The moment we've all been waiting for.

In the last 10 years alone, the median asking rent has climbed 62% to $5,000 a month. The Domino Sugar Factory behind me is perhaps the most clear beacon of what modern-day Williamsburg is like.

The same refinery that opened in 1882, that once employed 5,000 workers and processed sugar for the whole country, closed in 2004 and is now part of a 2.5 billion mixeduse development by Two Trees Management, which includes residential towers, all electric office

spaces, and a waterfront park. I actually went to an event at the very top, the glass part up there, last September. It was awesome. It's also probably the most expensive thing that has ever replaced a factory in Brooklyn.

Where there was once industrial factories and historic warehouse lofts, there are now swanky boutique [music] hotels. Apple's first location in Brooklyn, Whole Foods, Equinox, Reformation, Chanel, all of the yepy sportsear brands you could possibly think of and all of the fast casual

spots that I personally love to frequent. Sweet Green, Cava, Chipotle, you name it. And who are the people here now? Take a walk through North Williamsburg today and you are in the territory of a very specific type of

person. Someone paying $5,000 per month at least to live in what used to be an auto body shop. They picked up a loaf of naturally fermented sourdough this morning and they work remotely for a startup that you've never heard of. They

left Manhattan for Williamsburg a year ago for something chiller and more authentic. They carry a tote bag from a niche natural wine shop and their wardrobe is carefully engineered to look like they got dressed in the dark.

They're reading a newsletter about regenerative agriculture and they will all tell you unprompted that Williamsburg isn't what it used to be.

Okay, that's the stereotype. I honestly don't always love these like snarky character profiles, but you guys loved it in my West Village video, so had to do it again. Also, I have to be real.

I've been walking around Williamsburg all day, and it's it's pretty true. But in all seriousness, I do not think that gentrification requires villains or even a majority of this kind of satirical, cartoonish, sourdough loving person that we have in our minds. I also love

sourdough. What it does require is a lot of people with money and similar enough taste arriving in the same place at the same time and institutions like these popping up to cater to those newcomers.

That said, I do think it's fair to mourn what once was. The venues that have closed, the communities that have dwindled. What you're left with is a place that carries the reputation of what it was, but without a lot of the

substance. The bones of the golden era are still visible if you know where to look. East and South Williamsburg still have familyrun storefronts and community institutions. The annual Italian-American Feast of Our Lady of Mount Carmel that's been happening every

July since 1903. But it is certainly not what it was. Which begs the question, is it just an inevitable cycle? And will it just be another neighborhood that becomes the next Williamsburg?

It's a pattern as old as time. The first artistic enclave in New York City was Greenwich Village, West Village, see above. And when that got too expensive, those artists moved to Soho in the 1960s and '7s, then to East Village, where I

used to live in the 1980s, and then Williamsburg in the '90s. This continuous artistic migration epitomizes the long-standing cyclicality of art scenes that turn into gentrified neighborhoods. But the standard critique of what happened here is that the 2005

resoning caused it. That opening the waterfront to luxury development is what mostly caused the transformation. It no doubt accelerated it. But also perhaps when a neighborhood sits one subway stop away from Manhattan and gets the reputation as the place to be. That

demand might just be more powerful than anything in a city that is severely supply constrained. So how did Williamsburg become the most gentrified neighborhood in America? Because its waterfront location made it a perfect place to industrialize and for

immigrants to settle in the 1800s. [music] Because its closed factories became the perfect setting for artistic entrepreneurs to [music] build something new. Because reszoning let the towers come in and the young newcomers wanted a piece of the more bohemian neighborhood

just one stop from Manhattan. What was once a place known for its counterculture and affordability is now too expensive for just about anyone without a high-paying job or a trust fund. But hey, I'll go out on a limb

here and say I think it's still really fun to be here. What neighborhood or question in general should I investigate next? Let me know in the comments. I read them all. Thumbs up if you enjoyed this and please subscribe. It's totally

free. This literally took me weeks to write and research. Probably a little too long, but here we are. And until next time, turtle out.

Dripping sweat. It's no matter. I came prepared with my sweat towel. Back in back. Goodness gracious. A sweat.

[laughter] I don't want to look down my shirt, but I know it's Yep. It's wet.

It's wet. So, not nothing, but Well, 21. Love this bar, by the way. It's bad lighting, but you got the Mona Lisa of Williamsburg, you got the bridge, you got some industrial looking things.

Maybe one quick wipe off so you don't see my sweat glistening. Testing, testing, testing. I'm so sweaty. By the way, wildfire in Canada. That's why the sky looks like this. I don't know if you can tell how smoky it is, but we film

nonetheless. Hey, if you enjoyed this video, I would bet at least the median asking rent in Williamsburg that you will also like this one. Check it out.

Okay bye.