I Spiewak & Sons, Inc.: Jackets and Fine Fashion--Made to Measure Magazine

Michael Spiewak, 46, is C.E.O. for one of the world’s largest manufacturers of uniform and fashion outerwear.   In a huge global market, Spiewak manufactures over 50% of the domestic & international jacket trade.  From offices in downtown Manhattan, Michael assures the future of the family-owned corporation as he concentrates on multiple marketing strategies.   “The product isn’t it,” he emphasizes.  “There has to be more.  There is a perception in the marketplace of who we are.  Our brand name is our equity.  People don’t respond to manufacturing; they respond to things they remember—the people and the service.  Everything else is secondary.”

Michael is the second son of second sons--generations going back to Eastern Europe and Isaac Spiewak, who came to this country to find a better life.  Intelligent, responsible, enterprising, physically massive and strong, Spiewak began the same way as so many others.  He learned leather cutting from a cousin, then set out on his own. 1904--a single room in Brooklyn, pushcarts, making and selling an item which ordinary working people desperately needed.  Young Spiewak had 1 goal: to provide for his family.

Because of his size and strength, Isaac Spiewak was able to bale heavy sheepskins, the material used for winter warmth in those years.    He made vests, then coats.  He went from direct selling on the streets, to jobbers--wholesalers who represented him in retail trade.  In 1919, the trade name “Golden Fleece” was born.   Spiewak moved to 14th St.  No longer a peddler, he had become a businessman.

Isaac determined his family of 8 children would thrive.  However, each argued for control as he became a partner in the young business.  It was disaster.  The patriarch figured a way to keep his promise to his family, ease tensions, increase his own productivity: He established several outerwear corporations, sending various children to manage each.  Rubin & Sons, Bronco, Ram Mfg., Robert Louis Sportswear, United Sheepwear, are all offspring of Isaac Spiewak.

Transition through the generations has been possible because each successive owner has had a unique perspective of technology and the marketplace.  None of them has forgotten Isaac’s commitment to family and business ethics—“We work to live; we do not live to work,” said second generation Philip Spiewak.

“Quality of life has always mattered, whether it be a family member’s satisfaction with job fulfillment, or an employee’s civil rights issue,” reiterates Gerald, current Chairman of the Board and third generation.  The story of Spiewak is not so much about warm, protective jackets as it is about genuine, caring people.

World War I came, bringing wool in addition to leather, and contracts from the military.  In the early ‘20’s, the company moved to Haverstraw, NY; son Philip was involved by this time.  With a degree in architecture and a keen business sense, he understood garment construction and plant expansion.  Technology advanced, styles changed, World War II exploded.  Larger still, the factory had moved to New Jersey.  Cotton had been introduced to flight jackets, along with leather “bombers,” 32 oz. wool pea coats, and sheepskin flight suits.  As many as 300 garments a day went out of a single plant, different buildings producing varying styles & fabrics.

Philip became head of Spiewak in 1948, bringing his 3 sons with him: Bob had a degree in journalism, understanding finance and administration; Jerry graduated from the Wharton School of Business, focusing on sales and industrial management; Marty studied at the Fashion Institute @ NYU, knowing design, pattern-making, quality control.  

After the War, nylon was introduced along with other synthetics: “It used to take 35 pounds to provide warmth for a street cop on horseback; with synthetics, it took 3,” Jerry proudly reminisces.  Jerry, the “outside man,” became president.  Communications, transportation had improved; jobbers and wholesalers were no longer needed; Spiewak went directly to retailers.  In the 50’s, the firm outfitted American Airlines, and now handles most of the world’s airline trade.  Spiewak learned to adapt to its clients’ needs—the job, the climate, the look--from Greenland to the equator, the corporate world to television & cinema.

Growth spawned factories in Mississippi and overseas.  Always ahead of its time, Spiewak created Titan Cloth, which Jerry invented by adapting automobile seat-coverings for wearability.

One of the primary reasons for the company’s huge success was Jerry’s wife, Shirley (deceased in August).   Her social skills and business acumen won hearts and cemented corporate relationships.  With her support, Jerry was strengthened in his presidencies: The National Outerwear & Sportswear Association, N.A.M.U.D., the Uniform Association; and as Board member of the American Manufacturers of Apparel Association.  He also created a tradeshow company for surplus and outerwear businesses.  “Without Shirley, most of what we did would have been impossible,” Jerry recalls sadly.  “Mom knew and loved everyone,” added Michael.  But, when asked about retiring, Jerry is adamant.  “Dad (Philip) retired at 72, quit working at 93.  I intend to do the same.”

Jerry’s leadership brought 2 enormous changes: Export-import; and the idea of producing a fashion item as a separate entity from uniform wear.  “My father stepped back about 30 years ago.  I stepped back about 10 years ago for Michael and Roy—if you want continuity, you have to do that.  They’ve been terrific about developing in these directions.”

Michael (son of Jerry) graduated Syracuse with degrees in philosophy and English.  At first a guitar player with a rock band, Michael was influenced to join Spiewak by Jerry’s “Try it, you’ll like it” philosophy.  He found his niche by changing the focus of the company from factory production to sales & marketing.  “People don’t care about how it’s made,” he tells.  “They care about how they look, how they feel.”

Michael has taken Spiewak into the marketplace.  “At any time, you can find us under our own label, and under private label, sometimes with as many as 5 different names in the same store.”  Bloomingdale’s & Saks now sell Spiewak fashion lines as confidently as policemen & security guards wear Spiewak uniforms.  “’Synergy’ is the best word to describe how we blend product, people, and jobs,” Michael says.  He handles sales, pricing & costing, product development.   “What makes us special is that we can design a different look for every area.  We have locations all over the world--Scandinavia, Montreal, Japan, South America…”

Michael is definite about loving work, being very fond of his colleagues.  “I especially love working with my dad.”  “Work?   I’d better love it, because it’s how I spend most of my day.  If I don’t enjoy it, I’m missing out on a whole part of my life.”

41 year-old Roy Spiewak (Marty’s son) is current president.  A graduate in economics from Cornell, he also has a Master’s degree in social work (focusing on policy development), and an MBA in finance & accounting--both from the University of Chicago.  Brilliant and diverse, thoughtful and unassuming, he considers himself “…not particularly creative, but a good communicator; I’m analytical when it comes to detecting and solving problems.”

Consulting work with accounting magnate Coopers & Lybrand; 10 years as a controller (first for an Israeli optical company, then an Israeli software manufacturer): Roy was adamant about making his own way before coming into the family business.  “I needed to know my own worth,” he recalls.  “Since I’ve come, the business has become more diversified.  We have agents all over the world who speak different languages, understand different cultures, but who represent our terms and philosophy.”

Roy travels to the Far East, supervises the Mississippi plant.  He is responsible for the financial and manufacturing ends of Spiewak, and concentrates on overall organization and modernization.  “Managing a business is about doing so many things yourself.  It’s more important to have consistency and stability rather than runaway growth.  The important thing is not to become a household name, but to survive and maintain our integrity.“  He volunteers, “I think what I like best is knowing I’m a link in a chain—my great-grandfather, my grandfather, my dad, me, and maybe my own children one day.”

Samuel Broome & Co, Inc.: Made to Measure

Ostensibly, the story of the Broome family is about neckwear.  It is about 3 generations of manufacturing and selling, beginning on New York’s Lower East Side in a small room that shook each time a train rattled overhead.  From sewers who carried their machine-heads on their backs as they trudged to work each day; from the small retail necktie business which served general and dry-goods stores during the Great Depression; the last 70 years have seen Broome become the world’s foremost manufacturer of uniform neckwear. 

With offices in Manhattan, connected by intranet to Florida and factories in Brooklyn & Mississippi, Broome & Co., Inc. has expanded into Canada, Australia and Britain, with converters in Italy and the U.S. who produce customized prints for major corporate identity.  Michael Broome, head of fabrication/sourcing/design states, “A uniform tie should say about a company what a “civilian” tie says about an individual.  It’s the one area in dress where a man has the opportunity to express himself, and where a company can do the same.  It should be unique without being overwhelming.  Remember, you have to wear the same look every single day.”

Sam Broome, like most immigrants descended from Europe, struggled to make a living for his family and himself.  He was a tough set-in-his-ways man who, with his wife, kept the smaller respectable tie business going.  Initially, neither of his sons, Sidney nor Marvin, had any interest in the business.  Marvin dreamed of archaeology until the Korean War intervened.  Afterwards, he came home with more “practical” goals, and with an eye for his dad’s secretary-bookkeeper, Marilyn.   In the military he had traveled, seen America as a mass-productive world power, and he saw possibilities for the uniform tie—something other than a dark blue clip-on for corner cops.

The elder Broome, at odds with his son’s broader thinking, maintained his place in production (Marvin handled sales) until 1965, when he died.  His prediction about Marvin’s notions: “Six months after I’m gone, you’ll be bankrupt…”

Like his father and mother before him, Marvin Broome spent many evenings at the kitchen table managing the future of the business with his wife, Marilyn.  Like his father, Marvin had children, none of whom intended to join the family business.  Michael: Hofstra to study business administration.  Daniel: First interested in the science of music, then to Syracuse for electrical engineering.  Baby-sister, Carolyn: Culinary Institute of America to become a chef/caterer.

Marilyn was more than bookkeeper.  For over 30 years, she was controller, advisor, the family conscience.  She assured the business a good name, good credit, and she enabled it to grow quickly.  “The integrity I have, my mother instilled,” says Mike.  “We’re a very unusual family,” injects Carolyn Broome Shulevitz.  “We’ve all been together and so close for so long.” 

Marvin’s assessment of the necktie in the uniform industry proved correct.  The military gave him contracts; business began to flourish.  One by one, 3^rd generation Broome’s began to return to the family enterprise full-time.  Michael, always involved with their converter—first as delivery boy in high school, later as part-time salesman during college—brought his own strengths to the company.  Marvin maintained high standards in production, while Michael added diversity with colors, printing, designs; the custom aspect of Samuel Broome.   

Danny left Syracuse, went to the Fashion Institute of Technology learning textile technology and computers.  “As soon as we came to the business, Dad would say, ‘Do you see anything that needs to be done?’” tells Danny.  “I suggested a new catalogue.  Dad said, ‘OK, now what are you going to do with it?  Sell.’”  Today, Danny Broome is head of marketing, manufacturing technology, and cyberspace.

Carolyn, tired of the on-demand catering business, had learned about efficient production, prompt delivery.  She was instrumental in separating diverse manufacturing techniques, and establishing Broome’s plant in Mississippi.  She also knows how to evaluate objectively.  “Whenever the boys lock horns,” she chuckles, “they call me to hammer it out.  They know I’ll tell them what I think without getting involved in personalities.” 

“Carolyn is the heart and focus of the business,” assesses Michael.  “Dad always says that if everyone agreed with each other there would be no need for more than 1 person in the company! It is Carolyn who keeps the family together.”  

 Danny reflects, “Family always comes first, but we’re so intertwined with the business, that what’s good for the business is good for the family.” 

Carolyn adds, “My father (68) has allowed his sons to run the business, while he is still very active in it.”  In spite of his 6^th sense of knowing by sound alone whether or not the factories are running smoothly, Marvin Broome disdains from commenting on any issue which belongs to the “territory” of his children.  “Better ask the boys,” he says, with a proud, deliberate smile.

 Broome has had some hard times with the changes in society towards more casual wear.  Each member of the family feels strongly that the pendulum is swinging back, however.  "Casual day doesn’t mean being a slob,” emphasizes Michael.  Still, it taught them a lesson, and Danny’s new catalogue reflects an even greater expansion of the term “neckwear:” That which is worn between waist and chin.  Turtlenecks, sweater-vests, web-belts, are some of the newest items in the Broome lines.

What Samuel Broome & Co., Inc. is really about is family.  Truly, the neckwear is the ties that bind.  They are an extraordinary clan, with as much regard for their customers and employees as for each other.   Earnestly opposed to outsourcing/contract labor, Michael states flatly, “Pay people what they are worth and keep quality where it can be properly controlled.” 

 Carolyn prefers to keep converters within U.S. borders for the sake of economy and jobs competition.  “The new market-place can be a very scary one,” she adds.  “We have many different people working here, and we think everyone feels like an equal.”  While Danny provides lists of names, mentioning invaluable employees (most notably Brigid Rumpf, Broome’s creative designer), Carolyn reminds, “No women in the workplace? Mother and I would never stand for it.” 

Marvin set the tone for the corporate philosophy:  “Confucius say ‘A picture worth 1,000 words.’  Broome say ‘A touch worth 1,000 pictures.’” 

 “Anyone can call anytime and speak to the Broome’s,” smiles, Danny.  “I’ve learned that knowing all your customers and doing all you can for them is what business is about.”

Profiles of Entrepeneurs/Corsair Neckwear: Made To Measure Magazine

Bob Martin & Robby Martin

Born in 1921 New Orleans, Bob Martin began his career with neckties at age 18. His dream had been to be an airplane pilot (fulfilled during World War II); by the time he graduated from high school, however, Bob decided a steady income on the ground offered a more secure future. He needed a job.

In 1939, he took a position with Wembley—the largest in the world of over 400 tie manufacturers. For 9 years, Martin learned the business from the ground up. Eventually, he headed the cutting department. He was so proficient, the general manager/vice-president of Wembley left that factory with the intent of starting his own shop, asking Bob to run the new plant for him.

Corsair Neckwear began in 1948. At no time has the Martin family owned Corsair; yet, Bob and his son, Robby, have dedicated their lives to its on-going success.

The original owner, deceased in 1971, left the business to his 3 sons who continue to be the sole partners. Management of the plant remains under Martin’s supervision. “When I left Wembley, I knew how to manufacture and sell ties. When I took over Corsair, I also became a mechanic and an engineer,” reflects the soft-spoken Southern gentleman.

The first home for Corsair was above a bar in New Orleans’ French Quarter. Martin and 10 employees kept the business afloat. When the bar unexpectedly caught fire, Corsair burned along with it. Hanging on by a thread, Bob and his crew started again, this time at the old Magazine Street address, sequestered between the French Quarter and the Mississippi River. Stabilized, the company began to grow.

Now, with over 30 employees, Corsair has spent the last several years in its newer 9,000 sq. ft. building on Elysian Fields Avenue. “We’ve never been a giant, but we’ve held on,” says Bob. Thinking over his 58 years in the business—50 with his wife, 4 children and their families—he recalls surviving society’s radical changes effecting the neckwear industry: Nehru jackets, golf, and stand-collar shirts.

“Sometimes, my wife only saw me once a week. It was a different world, then. I had to be a workaholic to survive. If I did a task myself, it held expenses down. A job was for a lifetime, part of a person’s identity.” Bob still goes to work every day. “When I can’t get out of bed any more, I’ll know it’s time to retire,” he chuckles. “Now, I spend more time with my family, and I enjoy the Blackjack tables at the casinos.”

What Martin contributed to Corsair is its survival. While he contentedly leaves the future to Robby, Bob knows that the presently existing success of the business is due to his own initial efforts and commitment. What was once a flourishing industry has dwindled to 75-80 manufacturers of neckwear in the world market. By selling through catalogues rather than expensive commissioned sales-reps., continual communication with customers, staying within a fairly conservative, unchanging market—uniform and career ties—Corsair has held its own.

“If a person wants to succeed in business, he or she needs to work hard, and be competitive. Try everything you can,” emphasizes Bob. “Remember that most ladies and gentlemen are fine people. Don’t compromise their trust or your values.”

Bob Martin, easy-going and comfortable with the standards he has set for himself over the years, continues to “look in all directions, take my time, hold down my costs, expand my sales. And have a lot of faith in people.”

Robby Martin shares many of his father’s characteristics. He readily admits that his dad is his hero. 38 years old, a high school graduate who prefers working with his hands to reading a textbook, Rob has grown up in New Orleans with the same warm, people-oriented values.

Conversant, open, self-appraising in contrast to Bob’s more formal, objective approach, Robby gushes about his wife, Jill, and their 2 children. “Family is my priority. I have to enjoy myself,” he says in the slow drawl which reveals the gentleness of the Old South. “My thoughts are always going in so many directions. My mind is like a circus.”

Robby is definite about not being a workaholic—lists golf, fishing, close friends as valuable parts of his life. “I have good common sense, I do a good job to the degree it has to be done. But I love to punch out—mentally and physically.”

In the business for the last 10 years, Rob has learned a lot from his dad. Even though Rob now manages the company, he admits his dad is the bottom-line expert; yet, it doesn’t intimidate Robby. Rather, Bob taught Robby to think for himself. “I never forget that I can be wrong, that it’s my responsibility either way.”

What Rob has added to Corsair is his personal relationship with employees and customers. “We are discarding some things, adding others,” deliberates Rob, “in order to get the business closer to its possibilities, achieve its ceiling. Computers and the Internet are very important. We are expanding 1 step at a time. Is it good or bad? I don’t know. I don’t have big goals.”

Robby supports off-shore manufacturing, as long as labor conditions are ethical. “America is not superior—countries should work together as one; export/import laws must be respected, fair.”

He admits stiff competition makes it harder and harder to survive. He is not a supporter of Affirmative Action. “People should compete on the basis of what they do, not what they are. Equal rights go both ways—no discrimination against or for.”

The biggest changes Rob Martin has seen at Corsair Neckwear have been in the area of marketing; both with technology and public relations. “Whatever it takes, I need to change with the times if I want to compete. My customers are my most important product. I always try to be genuine; just tell it like it is. I never try to take advantage of anyone.”

Profiles of Entrepeneurs: Clifton Shirt Company: Made To Measure Magazine

Ed Levy & Deb Levy Rayburn

66 year-old Ed Levy, champion swimmer, college Prof., and self-proclaimed traveling adventurer, arrives at the office by 7:00 AM in his electric yellow BMW (license plate SUNBEAM); completing an early day’s work before the handball courts, vegetarian cooking with garlic, and an evening with “Tweetie Bird,” his wife of 39 years and mother of his 3 daughters.

Morris Levy escaped the Kaiser’s Germany in the 1870’s, came to the ‘States and became a cutter in a Cincinnati shirt company. Learning the trade, he and another fellow bought the Victor Shirt Co., which they renamed “Clifton,” after a nearby upper-class neighborhood.

In 1886, the Clifton Shirt Co. began with the manufacture of dress shirts. A small company in a mid-western town, Clifton floundered until it found its niche—producing for the Cincinnati police department—the first uniform shirts in the country.

Morris’ 2 sons, Leslie & Sidney, came into the business during the Depression. Struggling to keep the company lucrative, the brothers used their good name as collateral, and borrowed extensively. Eventually, loans were paid off, and the company became profitable. In 1972, Sid moved to Florida; Les stayed with the business, until he retired in 1978.

Ed Levy became president of Clifton in 1970. The family has always prided itself in good, straight, plain dealing. It was a foregone conclusion what Ed’s future would be. He received his BS in business on a swimming scholarship from Bowling Green State University, contributing his academic knowledge to the hands-on experience of his father, uncle, and grandfather.

Clifton, manufacturer of a stock house uniform shirt, has grown and diversified under Levy’s guidance. 4th generation, daughter Deb, continues that tradition. Down-sizing from a high-tech workplace to more flexible low-tech production, Clifton has entered the custom business with shirts for racing, theme parks, casinos, and private label. The big 100,000 shirt orders are harder to come by—prisons, off-shore manufacturing, the big shirting companies fight for the competition.

Originally based in Cincinnati, Clifton has now expanded to contractors in Tennessee and Mexico. “Clifton is a union shop. We profit-share,” asserts Ed. We never use imported garments to compete against other American manufacturers, only those off-shore. We’ve had to do it to survive.”

Ed is emphatic that he works very hard, but is not a workaholic. “If you have to do everything yourself, you’ve hired the wrong people. The business should work for you,” he states. “You’re inefficient if you need to work all the time—either that or you have the wrong priorities.” At the 2 colleges where he teaches, he offers a business course in economics based on Plato’s Republic, and a management course styled after Machiavelli’s The Prince.

During his years at Clifton, Ed is most proud of being able to survive during very difficult times. “Everyone else went South, and we stayed in the North. We’re highly mechanized and very efficient.” Pragmatic, Levy recognizes the “winds of reality and sails with them.” Whether he agrees with a practice or not, as long as it’s ethical, he’ll participate if it’s necessary to survive.

“The Americans With Disabilities Act, Affirmative Action, Workmen’s Compensation--three good reasons why we’ve gone to off-shore manufacturing and contract labor. I’m an arch-conservative,” Ed insists. “I look at each individual, I don’t look at an entire group. I don’t want to be forced to run my business in a certain way; I want the freedom to choose.”

In spite of his own education, Levy prefers street smarts. “Going to college doesn’t mean you’ve learned anything,” he quips. “It just means you’ve been exposed to learning.”

As his business is changing, so is he. “I’m still not grown up,” Ed Levy laughs. He doesn’t know what he’s going to do next. He takes his opportunities where they exist, always putting loyalty to his customers and his firm ethical standards first. “If I’m not having any fun, I know it’s time to get out.”

Like Ed, Deb Levy Rayburn was born in Cincinnati, raised in the family business, and received her BS at Bowling Green State. Like her father, she is outspoken, full of laughter. She and her husband, Mark, have a daughter; parenthood taught Deb that family is her first priority. Deb, who co-manages the company, readily states that Clifton is neither the biggest nor the most successful. That’s okay. “Dad always provided a good living for us; more importantly, he was there for us. I must be there for my family, too.”

Deb, with a background in marketing and retailing, pushes diversity within Clifton. “I want to see the company grow,” she claims. She, too, seeks out smaller contracts, simpler more customized garments. “Dad is very production oriented, I’m people-oriented. We make a good team. While Dad supervises the manufacturing, I network the trade shows, build a more aggressive sales force.”

Being the boss’s daughter has meant growing into the job. “I’ve had to earn respect,” states Deb. “I think our employees accepted me faster than the public. People either think I’m the assistant or the secretary, because I’m 35 and a woman. I’m pretty aggressive, so that impression is changing. I don’t know any women in my position, which is difficult sometimes. I have no one to bond with—it’s all men.”

Deb accepts off-shore manufacturing as a necessary evil. It bothers her that Americans are without work. One of her goals when emphasizing low-tech manufacturing is to keep more American labor employed.

At Clifton for 12 years, Deb Levy Rayburn reflects on increasing competition in the market-place. “We must carve our own niche—we have to offer greater flexibility,” she muses. With approximately 110 employees, Deb has seen generations of families working together in the factory. With greater technology, that’s beginning to disappear. “I need to tell people how things are. I’m always honest with them,” Deb feels. “I could never be disloyal to our employees, customers, or our suppliers.”