When Bruce Davidson Spent Several Months Photographing NYC gang 'The Jokers'

In the summer of 1959, photographer Bruce Davidson embedded himself with The Jokers, a street gang from Brooklyn, New York. What emerged from those months was a candid and haunting portrait of urban youth—one that captured both their energy and their struggles. Davidson, then 25 years old, created a body of work that has become a seminal depiction of post-war adolescence on the edges of society.

“At first I went with a Youth Board worker to take pictures of their wounds from a gang war in front of their candy store hang-out,” Davidson later recalled. These images marked the beginning of Bruce Davidson's relationship with The Jokers. Initially, he was an outsider, observing their world through the lens of his camera. But over time, the gang let him in, gradually allowing him to document moments that transcended the gritty stereotypes of street life.

“Later they let me go alone with them to Coney Island at night where they would lie under the boardwalk drinking beer,” Davidson said, describing one of the many nights he spent with the gang. His photographs from this period are steeped in atmosphere—there’s the sense of carefree rebellion, but also a hint of melancholy. “In the morning they would dance down the boardwalk together. A girl stopped to comb her hair at the cigarette-machine mirror. Then they took a long bus ride back to where they lived. In 1959, they were about seventeen and I was twenty-five.”

That girl combing her hair was Cathy, a figure who became emblematic of the tragedy lurking beneath The Jokers’ seemingly vibrant existence. While Davidson’s photographs immortalised these fleeting moments of youth, the reality for many of the gang members was far from glamorous. Years later, former gang member Bengie reflected on Cathy in Davidson’s book Brooklyn Gang:

“Cathy always was there, but outside … Then, some years ago, she put a shotgun in her mouth and blew her head off… It was very sad to see her die. It was very sad to see her because she was so sad. She was always sad, always fixing her hair.”

Bengie’s words add a sombre layer to Davidson’s photographs. Cathy, whose likeness appears in the series, becomes a symbol of the vulnerability hiding just beneath the surface of these teenagers’ bravado. The constant hair-fixing, a small and seemingly ordinary act, takes on an entirely new significance.

Davidson’s photographs of The Jokers first appeared in Esquire magazine in 1959, offering readers an unfiltered glimpse into the lives of these Brooklyn teenagers. But the full collection of images, Brooklyn Gang, wasn’t published in book form until 1998. By that time, the passage of decades had turned Davidson’s work into something akin to a time capsule. The photographs evoke nostalgia, but also serve as a stark reminder of the struggles these young people faced in a world that offered them few options.

What makes Brooklyn Gang so compelling is its intimacy. Davidson wasn’t an aloof observer; he embedded himself into The Jokers’ lives and won their trust. The result is a series of photographs that feel alive and unscripted—moments captured in the heat of youth, when the days were spent hanging out on street corners and the nights were for escaping under the boardwalks of Coney Island.

Today, Brooklyn Gang remains one of Bruce Davidson’s most celebrated works. It’s not just a portrait of a gang but a meditation on youth, alienation, and the fleeting nature of time. The photographs still resonate because they remind us of the humanity behind every face—whether they’re dancing down the boardwalk or quietly combing their hair at a cigarette machine.

Bruce recalled his time with the gang in an 2016 interview with David S. Spivak:

“Those kids, at that time, you see, were actually abandoned by everybody, the church, the community, their families. Most of them were really poor. They weren’t living on the street, but they were living in dysfunctional homes. It’s the same thing. Anyway, they were kids and the reason that body of work has survived is that it’s about emotion. That kind of mood and tension and sexual vitality, that’s what those pictures were really about. They weren’t about war. I mean, you can’t compare those kids to the kids today who have machine guns. So there is an innocence in the photographs because it reflected the kids’ innocence, but that innocence could erupt into violence.”

“In time they allowed me to witness their fear, depression and anger. I soon realised that I, too, was feeling their pain. In staying close to them, I uncovered my own feelings of failure, frustration and rage.”

The gang was “violent, sexual but full of life”.

“I think New York is probably the most important and the most alive city in the world. It’s the most diverse. It’s the most difficult. It’s the most challenging. I have found that over the years I have been able to enter worlds within worlds in the city, beginning with the Circus series, then the Brooklyn Gang, and later the Subway and Central Park, and other entities. I entered worlds within worlds and they became sacred places for me. I no longer entered a shul; I entered the sacred space of people’s lives.”