The $2.6 million was never spent due to the disagreements between Diamond and the AAA, and the museum was never built. That’s now part of Diamond’s lawsuit, as is another dropped city contract to build a trolley line that connects to the tunnel.

Despite the skirmishes in the late ‘80s, Diamond continued giving tours in the tunnel without much interference from the city for over two decades, and in 2008, the DOT renewed his contract to work in the tunnel. But the following year, a History Channel episode about the tunnel goosed demand and a new wave of eager tourists began congregating in the middle of Atlantic Avenue. The DOT started started cracking down.

The city’s sudden disapproval of the tunnel may have had to do with the changing neighborhood

First the agency slapped Diamond on the wrist for blocking traffic on Atlantic Avenue, and then for attempting to construct a second entrance without permits. The DOT also told Diamond that BHRA had to stop charging $15 for his tours, saying any money it earned had to be a donation. The agency then demanded that Diamond file a schedule of all future visits and tours.

Meanwhile, the tunnel enjoyed more attention than ever. In 2010, National Geographic signed a contract with BHRA to film a documentary about digging out the locomotive. The summer film festival Rooftop Films hosted a film screening in the tunnel. Diamond and BHRA had hired reenactors to play out scenes from tunnel lore, including the story of how its foreman was killed during construction and the tale of Sadie the Hudson River pirate.

When Rooftop Films scheduled a second underground screening, the city decided it had had enough. The FDNY shut down the event due to safety concerns and the DOT canceled Diamond’s contract less than a week later. National Geographic canceled its project, too, citing changes in content strategy.

Top: The corner of Atlantic Avenue and Court Street, where the tunnel entrance is located, in 1922.
Bottom: The same intersection today.

The city’s sudden crackdown on the tunnel may have had something to do with the changing neighborhood. "When he first started giving this tour, that area of Brooklyn was kind of rundown with abandoned buildings," says Larry Fendrick, who runs SubChat, a forum for "railfans," or train buffs. "The whole neighborhood is completely different now. It’s a lot more upscale than it was 20 years ago."

Diamond became reclusive after he was exiled from the tunnel, withdrawing from the railfan community. He has bouts of paranoia, occasionally slipping into diatribes about the United Nations. The villains in his story keep changing, from the DOT and Mayor Michael Bloomberg to National Geographic, who he believes forged his signature on a permit application.

Without the income from the tunnel tours, Diamond is struggling to pay rent, relying on his girlfriend to pay his phone bill and save him from eviction. He survives on food stamps and Social Security disability payments, which he receives due to post-traumatic stress disorder he says was caused by the war over the tunnel. He recently developed a temporary stutter after reading that former deputy mayor for economic development Daniel Doctoroff had casually endorsed the idea of running a trolley through the tunnel, the plan Diamond has been fighting for all along.

Lately, Diamond has been fixated on a group of stodgy archeologists called PANYC, who he believes have been undermining him since the beginning. "I told them about the tunnel. They pretended to be friendly. As soon as they went inside, they were whispering to each other, giving sneers and dirty looks at me," Diamond says. "They hate me because I have no professional credentials."

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