To these Boro Park chassidim, the shtiebel was home. Ancient wooden doors opened to old walls, pitted floors, rickety railings alongside sloping stairs, worn wooden benches, and faded siddurim. The immigrant kehillah had built this place with devotion in their hearts and little in their pockets. Cozy and cheerful it was, a place for praying with song, dancing with joy, of little boys with shining eyes and long peyos who ran underfoot, of teenagers swaying in learning alongside the older scholars. Everyone was united by a unique camaraderie that came of shared joys, sorrows, jokes, and winks. Or perhaps not quite everyone…