For generations one gritty neighborhood in Central Brooklyn was known as “Do or Die Bed-Stuy.”

The district was a national symbol of urban neglect: home to rampant poverty, high unemployment and sub-standard housing.

Fifty-nine years ago this month, Sen. Robert F. Kennedy took a walking tour of the community with the press corp. He paused in front of burned-out buildings and abandoned lots, noting, “The lack of hope that exists in many of these communities.”

RFK didn’t ask for a handout. He wanted the business community to put their heads together and invest in one of the poorest districts in New York City — in 1967.

That’s when the Bedford Stuyvesant Restoration Corporation was born: the first nonprofit of its kind in the nation.

Blondel Pinnock is the first woman president and CEO of Restoration.

“It was a true public-private partnership, with federal government coming together with city government coming together with corporate partners in order to make this work,” Pinnock said.

The former site of a milk bottling plant was transformed into 300,000 square feet of opportunity: from small business services to affordable housing and so much more.

Slowly but surely, the community banded together and breathed new life into their neighborhood. And the cultural heartbeat of Restoration is the Billie Holiday Theatre.

“As we like to say to all audience members, welcome home. This is truly a magical place,” said Shawdawn Smith, the executive vice president of the theatre.

The 218-seat performance space is one of a handful of Black community theatres still operating in New York City.

“This is like Broadway in Brooklyn,” said Rome Neal, an actor, producer and director.

After nearly 60 years, Restoration is showing its age. The organization is in urgent need of funding to revitalize this crown jewel in Central Brooklyn. And they’re facing another pressing issue: gentrification.

“Those brownstones that were once dilapidated are no longer that and they’re worth a lot of money,” Pinnock said. “And people who are from here cannot afford to live here anymore and so that’s really the biggest issue that we’re dealing with.”

But community leaders are keeping the faith: The Plaza still looms large along busy Fulton Street, reminding passersby of what can happen when a neighborhood takes its power back.