I Grew Up With Jeffrey Epstein. Our Neighborhood Held Dark Secrets

"Precariously balanced on the very tip of Coney Island, Sea Gate, where I was raised, is surrounded by water on three sides and divided from the rest of the world by a two-story chain link fence. The fence, broken up only by two actual gates manned by guards, stretches three-quarters of a mile along 37th Street, from New York Harbor on the north side to the Atlantic Ocean on the south."

"On our side of the fence, tree-lined streets. The closer you get to the ocean, the bigger the houses. From the beach, a view of the Verrazano Bridge. In the 1890s, the Vanderbilts, Dodges, and Morgans built houses here. In fact, some of the houses on the beach were 40-room mansions before they got divided up during the Depression. It was a private beach escape for the rich. You can understand why they fenced the neighborhood off."

"On the other side of the fence, where today stand residential high-rises, were slums. In effect, Sea Gate was an island on an island. Growing up in the Sixties, the place was like one big playground. From the Parachute Jump on Coney Island, the symbol of my childhood, you could probably see the Statue of Liberty."

"My mother and I lived with my grandparents in the last house before you got to the fence. We had a view from our kitchen window, through chainlink, of abandoned cars, boarded-up tenements, garbage, old bicycle frames that had been picked clean, still locked to a pole. In those days, the neighborhood kids had the run of the place. We went outside as soon as we got up and didn't come home until dinner."

Sea Gate, raised on the tip of Coney Island at Sea Gate, is surrounded by water on three sides and separated from the rest of Brooklyn by a two-story chain-link fence. The fence runs along 37th Street from New York Harbor to the Atlantic Ocean, with only two guarded gates. Inside the fence are tree-lined streets and increasingly large houses toward the ocean, including former mansions once owned by prominent families. The beach area functioned as a private escape for the rich. Beyond the fence, where high-rises stand today, were slums. Growing up in the 1960s, the neighborhood felt like a playground, with views of major landmarks and daily freedom for local children, while the kitchen window looked through chain link at abandoned cars, boarded-up buildings, and garbage.

Read at Rolling Stone