Construction of the exits for the Karaköy Square and the shopping arcade pedestrian underpass… Work, which began in the spring of 1964, proceeded at a rapid pace because it was located at this valuable and equally busy intersection—considered the heart of the city—and was finally opened to the public with a ceremony on July 5, 1965. It was the “first” of several pedestrian underpasses built in the city during those years. The others were located in Çarşıkapı, Şehremini, and Zeyrek. In subsequent years, the Aksaray Market was added as well…
With four entrances and exits and 23 shops lining its interior, pedestrians were required to use the Karaköy underpass without exception, and two traffic police officers began standing guard over the square every day. During these checks, fines are issued to those who do not use the underpass and to those who insist on crossing over it.
Around three in the afternoon on a day in the spring. A traffic police officer emerges from the cylindrical, barrel-shaped “tunnel”—located at the entrance to Necatibey Street but set back and out of sight due to construction, its surface covered with a Puro advertisement—and tries to make his presence known to vehicles at the intersection.
The tops of the buildings leading down to the underpass have been covered and partially concreted. But the concrete poured on the Halilpaşa side must still be fresh, as it’s still glistening in the sunlight. The rough construction is nearly complete; soon the exterior cladding will be finished, and large, full-height glass panels will be installed on three sides. There isn’t much time left before the opening—we need to move quickly…
The three-armed, three-lamp streetlights that illuminate the square at night date back to the era of the late Menderes. Manufactured at a concrete factory in Izmir in the late 1950s and brought to Istanbul, these poles were erected along the city’s main avenues and in its major squares.
The photograph was taken from the roof of the Nordstern building, from one of its upper floors, or from the neighboring building right next to it. The building itself isn’t visible in the frame, but the shadow of the large, metallic, dotted “Nordstern” sign on its roof is cast onto the ground where Tersane Street meets the square.
The entrance to the passage on the pier side was used mostly by people coming from the bus stops or the Tunnel. After exiting here, it was quite easy to reach the Haydarpaşa-Kadıköy ferry terminal with quick steps through the narrow back alleys in the background. Going around the front of the Ziraat Bank, however, would have lengthened the route.
Three of the four entrances are visible in the photograph. The fourth is right next to the curved road on the far left. Unlike the others, this passageway was not rectangular but shaped like a quarter circle. It had two separate entrances—one from the Selânik Passage and one from the Tunnel—and the two were out of sight of each other until one descended the wide staircase. A bank’s Galata branch was also located there. A few years later, an additional floor was added above it, and the famous Passage Café opened for business there. Commanding a full view of the square but exposed to the sun’s rays all day long, the café was one of the meeting spots for many Istanbulites.
Directly across from us, in the area where the old Havyar Han once stood, the Aksu Han had just been built. It looks finished, but it’s not quite done yet. Until recently, Coşkun Sausages was located underneath it. Since a sign reading “Confectioners coming soon” was hanging there at the time, the han isn’t fully operational just yet…
The street directly across from us is Necatibey Avenue… Once the mandatory route for electric trams heading along the coastal road toward Tophane, Salıpazarı, Kabataş, and beyond, the avenue served as the route for buses and trolleybuses from Ayaspaşa to Taksim to Pangaltı-Şişli.
The tower visible in the far background is the tower of the Passenger Terminal building, constructed on the waterfront in the 1940s. The rectangular paving laid out in the square, resembling a piece of baklava and slightly curved to the right, with its surface of large, rough-textured paving stones, would remain intact until the mid-1980s. This style of paving was quite fashionable in those years and could also be found in Eminönü, Bayazıd, Saraçhane, Beşiktaş, and Kadıköy.
While it was possible to travel one-way from Karaköy toward Dolmabahçe via both the Rıhtım and Necatibey roads, the only way to turn around was via Kemeraltı Street. At one point, they even went so far as to designate the far-right lane of Necatibey Street exclusively for outbound traffic, which made the return traffic a complete nightmare.
The various signs on the rooftops, while not visible during the day, created a visual spectacle for the entire evening and night as soon as it began to get dark. Set against a pitch-black backdrop, the advertisements for all kinds of companies—accompanied by colorful light displays featuring fluorescent and incandescent bulbs that moved, slid, seemed to fall, flickered, and appeared simultaneously before fading one by one—were etched into the memories of the passing crowd, without the onlookers even noticing…
The gaze of ferry passengers arriving from Haydarpaşa would fall upon these massive illuminated signs—perched on the rooftops of nearly all of Karaköy’s tall buildings—the moment the ship rounded Sarayburnu: Oerlikon, Güneş Sigorta, Nivea, Vatan Canned Foods, Akbank, Emlâk-Kredi, İş Bankası, Omo, Mintax, Perma-Sharp, Şekerbank, Komili, Zetina, Ottoman Bank, Trade Bank, Newtron, Ülker chocolates, Pertrix batteries, EAS batteries, DYO, ÇBS, Besler and Arı cookies, Hayat magazine, Milliyet, Hürriyet, SMA baby formula, Akfil fabrics, Güney Sanayi, Halıflex, Vinylex, Kaleflex, Böhler welding electrodes, Fruko, Elvan, Ankara sodas, İshakol paints, Cin-za-no, Çapamarka, İGS, Pirelli, Goodyear, and Fisk tires, Siera, Nordmende, and Philips radios and televisions, Scrikss fountain pens, Bozkurt Terylene, Anapa Bonmarche… you simply couldn’t take your eyes off the advertisements for every kind of company imaginable.
As you read them one by one, patiently and without missing a single one, you’d suddenly realize you’d arrived at the Karaköy pier with its mooring buoys—where ropes were being thrown, fenders were being lowered, and the piers were already being moved along to the sound of metallic clanging… Back then, since there were no cell phones, the people of Istanbul took a keen interest in the life unfolding outside; they took care not to miss a single detail that caught their eye. People were deeply engaged with their surroundings and the outside world, and they were exceptionally curious about the details.
Today, however, just like timid teenagers who try to avoid eye contact with those around them out of shame for secretly stealing their grandmothers’ jam jars, everyone on the street and on public transportation keeps their heads down, their fingers weaving back and forth across touchscreens as if on autopilot… Cell phone. You are such a treacherous device. You’ve stolen our ability to see; you’ve turned all of us into people who stare at you monotonously and soullessly all day long, for heaven’s sake…