An Already Eclectic Mix Gets an Upscale Bar

CROWN HEIGHTS, Brooklyn — A mash-up of cultures, is home to both the annual West Indian American parade and the headquarters of the Chabad-Lubavitch Hasidim. Adding an upscale bar and beer garden to the mix might seem counterintuitive.

“Everyone thought we were crazy,” said Anatoly Dubinsky, recalling the reaction last April when he opened Franklin Park with his partner, Matthew Roff, a proprietor of the Park Slope music venue Southpaw.

But Mr. Dubinsky, who also owns Soda Bar in Prospect Heights, realized that the 20-something artists, students and professionals relocating to Crown Heights for its affordability needed their own watering hole. The partners saw potential in the crumbling cement and rusted metal of a dilapidated garage off Franklin Avenue, where salons, bodegas and fast food restaurants are yielding to organic markets, cafes and boutiques.

Drug dealers had favored the lot, yet, Mr. Roff said: “We just took down the ‘for rent’ sign and they moved on. Some of them wished us good luck.”

A benediction of a different kind was bestowed by Ari Kirschenbaum, a rabbi from the synagogue across the street, who made a l’chaim over vodka when the partners swung open the iron gate on their tree-lined courtyard and dark oak bar. Rabbi Kirschenbaum has held Hasidic philosophy classes at the bar.

As winter approaches, the owners have expanded into a spacious indoor annex with a weekend D.J. and game room.

“I came because of the Skee-Ball,” said Ashley Bonnell, 28, on a recent Saturday night, as she sipped a gin gimlet alongside the white subway-style tiles of the smaller bar. “My friends have been calling me to join them in the East Village, but I told them I’m hanging out in my hood.”

From the next stool, her friend Joachim Boyle, 28, who was also drinking a gimlet, concurred. “You don’t know how excited I am to be out of the Village and live here.”

Mr. Boyle pondered whether old-timers would dismiss them as invading hipsters.

“I’m not a hipster,” Ms. Bonnell, a physical therapist, insisted.

“Yes, you are,” Mr. Boyle said, waving toward her long cardigan, red scarf and chunky boots. He tugged on his subtly sheened blue button-down. “So am I.”

Inside the annex’s glass-paned doors, Pascale Felix held a Czechvar beer and surveyed the crowd. Ms. Felix, who owns a Haitian restaurant and grew up in the area, frequents Franklin to chat with Sean Toussaint, a bartender. “He always has something to lift you up. That’s what you need in a bartender.”

A married couple, Andreas Naughton, 33, and Jenny Shom, 34, were enjoying a rare post-baby night out. Over a pint of O’Hara’s, Mr. Naughton said he had grown up in Park Slope with Mr. Roff and pointed to a childhood photo of himself in a collage behind the D.J. booth. Created by another hometown boy, Kenan Juska, the artwork juxtaposes photos of Mr. Roff’s family and friends with Brooklyn memorabilia, underscoring the neighborhood bar vibe.

“We’re the townies,” Mr. Naughton said.