By JOE SEXTON

Movie makers descended yesterday on the Franklin Avenue Shuttle line in 
Brooklyn. They put fresh paint on the Franklin Avenue station and mounted 
new signs. There were scenes to be shot, and the crumbling, decrepit 
place had to appear to be a functioning subway terminus. The title of the 
work in progress: "The Money Train."
"Great joke, huh?" said a conductor.
Of course, there has never been much money for the Franklin Avenue 
Shuttle. For 117 years, it has conducted its creaking, lurching, 
relentless rumble through Brooklyn. Neglected and now macabrely 
ramshackle, the shuttle has stubbornly endured, carrying its daily loads 
of schoolchildren and working people to and from Bedford-Stuyvesant and 
Crown Heights. 
The announcement on Wednesday that transit officials

were looking at further cuts in financing for the shuttle was just the 
latest blow. The line‹which connects the A train with the D, and thus 
Bedford-Stuyvesant to Coney Island‹ has not had serious repair work in 
decades, the most inspired civic intervention always coming when part of 
the line was near collapse. Inclusion of an $80 million rehabilitation 
plan for the shuttle on the Metropolitan Transportation Authority's list 
of capital projects is an annual rite. So is its being taken off the 
list.
The shuttle was once more placed on the deferred project list several 
months ago, although a variety of scaled back versions of the plan, 
costing from $11 million to $33 million, are under consideration for 
1996.
The news this week that transit officials were considering closing the 
Dean Street station on the five-stop shuttle line, as well as considering 
ending all service late at night, was received by the ridership with sad 
smiles that looked a lot like practiced winces.
To the people of the Franklin Avenue Shuttle, the real results of the 
proposed budget cuts‹the Transit Authority needs to close a $113 million 
budget gap‹just seemed like more punishment.
"They have always threatened to kill the entire thing anyway, and I'm 
sure one day they will," said Pam Waring, a young woman who spent her 
childhood riding the shuttle and who yesterday was taking it to work. 
"It's easy to make fun of it or get dramatic about how awful shape it's 
in. But it's an essential part of our existence, and people use it."
For many New Yorkers, the Franklin Avenue Shuttle is a kind of ghost 
train, with veteran city residents surprised to discover it has survived 
or that it even exists. But every day, it carries nearly 10,000 people 
along its 1.7-mile route to school or work. Its on-time rating of

99.6 percent is highest on the subway system. ("It's so good because it 
doesn't go anywhere," said Kenny Nesbitt, the superintendent for the 
line.)

In the morning, the cars are packed with children going to Prospect 
Heights High School or nurses headed to Interfaith Hospital. 

The shuttle  is a link to the Brooklyn Museum, the central branch of the 
Brooklyn Public Library and the Botanic Garden. Parents lug strollers and 
groceries and students carry bookbags into the decaying stations
with a sort of melancholy faithfulness.

On Wednesday night, people boarded at the Prospect Park station, unfazed 
by the construction signs on the platform that warned of asbestos and 
"cancer and lung disease hazards." Most of the stations look as if a 
tornado might have struck recently, and the scenery in between is mostly 
construction debris perhaps a quarter-century old. 'It does do something 
to the soul, the ego," Mr. Nesbitt said.
The riders sat in a tired silence as the train, often pitching like a 
ship completed its latest uneven route down to Fulton Street. They got up 
and got on their way, grateful if not exuberant.
"For the people who work, the conditions may stink, but the line is their 
life," said Manuel Goico, a store owner in Flatbush.
Many shuttle riders seemed amused yesterday by the squawking from riders 
elsewhere in the city suddenly concerned about what budget cuts might 
mean for the quality of their service.
"I'm happy, thrilled to see it," said James Lane, who said he had 
shuttled to and from Franklin Avenue for

43 years. "It's a taste of what we've been fed forever. And believe me, 
it's a taste that ain't easy to swallow."
Back at the Franklin Avenue station, the movie technicians were busy 
placing lights and cameras. A specially designated train was going to be 
used for the shooting. A transit police officer said the movie, which 
stars Wesley Snipes, calls for a explosion scene on the train line.
The officer wondered whether the city should allow it to be real, and 
thus save itself the demolition costs. Maybe that, he said, would get the 
renovation started at last. The regular riders stared at the bustle, 
asked questions and got on their trains.
"You know, when I was in Guyana before I came to this country, I was 
warned about the Franklin Avenue Shuttle," said Joan Carmichael, who came 
to Brooklyn 18 years ago. "They told me it was dirty, dangerous. It is. 
But I'm here. Riding. Who knows how long it will last?"