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.”