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.”

Profiles of The Twentieth Century: Made To Measure Magazine

Americans born in the first decades of this century are largely responsible for one of the most incredible periods in human history. Everyone pitched in, did his/her proud part to enrich the fiber of our nation. People were not afraid of work; success was by sweat of the brow.

We are losing that generation of heroes who helped make our country and our world a better place. Beginning with this issue, Made to Measure would like to honor those individuals still with us who built the uniform industry into what it is today.

David Cahn: M.J. Cahn Co., Inc.

In the late 1800’s, David Cahn, prominent New York synagogue cantor, decided that his 13 year old son, Moses Jacob, would never go into music—it was an unsteady profession. He apprenticed the boy to an uncle in woolens. Despite his love for music and a degree in musicology, Moses Cahn took his father’s advice: After partnership, his own firm, the stock market crash of 1929 and a tough comeback, he founded M.J. Cahn Co., Inc. in 1933. He sold woolen suiting ends.

David Cahn, born in 1917, graduated from City College of New York with Bachelor’s and Master’s degrees in accounting and business administration at the age of 19.

Like his father and grandfather, he loved the arts and humanities most. “Being a history professor would have been my first choice,” mused David, “but times were very hard then, and who could make a living off of knowing the things I knew? Today, I watch Jeopardy. I’m good at it.”

Moses Cahn wanted young David to go with Standard Oil—a large, prestigious firm—anything but the “shmatah” business. But David took his first job with Macy’s. A couple of weeks before he was to start, however, he offered to give “Pop” some extra help. That was the end of Standard Oil, and R.H. Macy.

What the elder Cahn had begun, David refined, organized, expanded. From the modest start in a rented office on old 4th Avenue, piece goods were added, the ends done away with; more employees were hired, and 2 moves later M.J. Cahn now resides in its own 50,000 sq. ft. building--warehouse and offices combined.

Men’s and women’s suiting declined, woolen mills dried up and gave way to synthetics and cottons, the Woolen Jobbers Assn. dropped from 125 to less than 10: Cahn adapted with the changes. He brought in different fabrics, and diversified his clientele.

When he returned from his 5 years in Europe during World War II, demands of the clothing business had changed. “Seasonable,” and “stylish” were replacing terms like “continuity,” “steadiness,” “always-in-demand.” The latter had a secure and familiar ring; the shift from street-wear to uniforms was made.

David states, “The greatest impact I have had on my business is to hire the right people. I pay them very well, and I make certain they are people on their way up. We grow and climb the ladder of success together.” His 2 partners, Tom Leahy (formerly of JP Stevens), and David’s son, Dan, complete the corporate structure. A small, culturally diverse staff works closely together for quick service and same-day delivery.

David Cahn and his second wife, Jean, boast 2 children and 5 grandchildren. He speaks 5 languages, which have been of great assistance in his trade of goods. “I’m not a bad salesman,” he adds, “and I have a nice way with people.”

He’s a player of chess and bridge, enjoys wood-working, and music. If he’s not listening to classical, he’s pumping out showtunes himself on his piano.

“The business will survive me because we’ve changed with the times, and because I’ve chosen the right people to succeed me. I have no intention of retiring, says the 79 year-old Cahn. Why should I? I enjoy what I do, and it gives me great pleasure to watch and help other people on the way up.” Leahy remarked, “David’s been wonderful—he’s like my own father.”

When asked how he had changed over the years, David smiled, “I’m a modest person. It’s important to be modest. People who are successful should always be modest. As the years have gone by, I’ve become more modest. And more confident.”

Dave Hindlemann: Bell Mfg. Co. & Custom Uniform Co.

1916 New York City, where a kid made a living by the seat of his pants. Dave Hindlemann, entrepreneur, began at the age of 10, juggling 3 paper routes and an elementary school career. Whether it was his first bicycle, his Model T Ford with a crank which he bought for $50, or his upgrade to a roadster with a gear shift and a rumble seat, Dave always paid his own way. He grew up in Mount Vernon, NY where his dad was a contractor in the garment business. The Wall Street crash, with its domino effect, destroyed elder Harry’s own career when his clients went bankrupt.

The family headed West. Dave abandoned his hopes for a future in engineering or law, apprenticing with his father in a small Denver-based clothing factory. He earned his Bachelor’s degree in accounting from the University of Denver. Working by day and learning at night, 20 year-old Dave Hindlemann started his first company, Bell Tailors, in 1936. “I’ve never regretted owning my own business,” Dave states. “I never go to sleep at night worrying that the next morning some executive will tell me my job has been abolished.”

Dave’s success allowed him to bring his parents, sister and brother into his own business. He saw to it while he was in Europe for 3.5 years during the War, that the company continued by converting its skills to the manufacture of military uniforms.

1945 came; the boys returned home—not to proprietous pinstripe suits, but to open-collar shirts, slacks, and sport-coats. Custom tailoring for the masses had become a thing of the past.

Dave adapted the military uniforms made during the War, this time for marching bands, parochial schools, and ceremonial groups. He converted from the cost-prohibitive wools to the new technology of synthetics. His tailoring shop became a factory of mass-production: Five or six tailors mushroomed to 50 or 60 sewers. Bell Tailors became Bell Manufacturing Co.

In 1981, he was offered a buy-out, readily gave up the high overhead and the stresses of operating a large factory, went back to a smaller staff and shop, again modifying as the baby-boomers graduated from school, and budgets for band uniforms got smaller. “Flexibility is everything in the manufacturing business,“ he notes. “If you can’t change with the times, you get left behind.”

Today, after 15 years in partnership with his daughter, Deb, Dave’s “smaller” business, Custom Uniform Co., Inc. is bigger, more challenging than ever. All types of custom-designed garments are manufactured for national distribution under private label and under the Custom Uniform label; he complements his inventory with ready-made uniforms when a customer desires a more generic style and fabric.

“I like being a big fish in a small pond. We can make small quantities, lots of different things. It’s fun. Having fun is more important than making the most money. If you don’t enjoy coming to work every day, you’ll never be a success at what you do.”

Married for 50 years, Dave and his wife, Phyllis, have 3 children and 3 grand-children. He states without hesitation, “Family has always been first. Even in the early years I always tried to make time for my family.”

Dave insists that he is retired. “Retirement means doing what you want to do. I love to work, travel, read, enjoy my family. I’m doing all of those things, so I guess I’m retired.” At the age of 80, he still works 6 days a week.

Proud that his business will succeed him, Dave feels that his greatest impact has been the production of a quality product. “We’ve always had a very conscientious quality control. Delivering a good product to the customer, learning as much as I can about things as I go, that matters to me. I like to learn from people, ideas, and products.” “Dave knows so much, he has forgotten more than most people know,” chuckles Evelyn Hart, his foreman for 27 years.

“So many things have changed,” Dave Hindlemann reflects. “It used to be a handshake was a man’s word. Now, it’s lawyers and contracts—cut and dried. The personal element is missing. I’m fascinated by all the technological developments, but I sometimes question our priorities and our values—if objects have become more important than people.”

Lloyd Hamburger: Hamburger Woolen Co. / HWC Police

Tough, caring, pragmatic Lloyd Hamburger was born in 1928 Brooklyn. He, his brother and sister, went through the public school system in New York. Lloyd’s father started his own business after working for a cap manufacturer. He realized that people enjoyed “one-stop-shopping:” If a man bought a cap, he generally needed the uniform to go with it; the same goods which could make a cap could make a uniform, too.

Hamburger Woolen Co. sells and distributes fabric for the uniform and career apparel trade. When Lloyd was a kid, his only desire was to go to work with his dad. Every holiday, every vacation, the boy was working for his father—from the shipping department up. He was not allowed to join the firm, however, until he had a college education; hence, a degree in business administration from the University of Florida. Still, Lloyd is adamant. “There’s nothing like experience. Schooling is OK, but experience is worth its weight in gold.”

Hamburger got out of school in 1950, and was sent to the Korean Conflict where he served for 2 years. “It was the most valuable experience of my life,” emphasizes Lloyd. “My experience in the Army made me who I am today. My ghetto upbringing didn’t prepare me for the real world. In the Army, I had to learn to get along with all types.”

Finally, with school and the service behind him, he was ready to do what he wanted most: Enter the family business. His father suddenly died 3 months later; Lloyd was more on his own than he had anticipated. “My father left me his customers and his support. But I had the desire,” said Lloyd. “I took it from there.”

With the same concept that his father used to sell goods to accompany caps, Lloyd Hamburger began to sell police equipment to accompany the goods for law enforcement uniforms. “We now sell all over the world,” he admits proudly.

“Timing and ‘mazel’ are everything. You can be the best, the brightest, the most interesting, but if you’re not in the right place at the right time—if you don’t have good luck on your side, forget it.”

Married for over 46 years, Hamburger and his wife, Judy, have raised 3 daughters, and now have 7 “delicious” grandchildren. “I absolutely adore my family,” he insists. Daughter, Ilene agrees. “What we missed with him, he has more than made up with his grandchildren.”

He does not consider himself a workaholic, but admits than when he was younger, he spent a tremendous amount of time with the business. “It wasn’t that I couldn’t stop working,” Lloyd emphasized. “I just did what I had to do, and in those days, it took a lot of time and travel.”

Ilene has joined Hamburger Woolen Co. which now has a large warehouse / office facility on Long Island, moving out of the City after 55 years. The company prides itself on same-day delivery and service, shipping within 48 hours. Continuity and durability are the criteria for the fabric which it sells. “My father taught me the importance of personal service. I maintain that with our customers,” said Lloyd.

Insisting that retirement is what other people do, 69 year-old Hamburger spends one day a week with his grandchildren. His most recent commitment was a second-grade poetry recital with his grand-daughter. “I love fresh-water fishing, tennis, travel. Most of all, I love to watch the faces of my grand-children,” he says with as much vigor as he describes the success of his business.

Asked what he has contributed most to the business, Lloyd says without hesitation that it’s his sincerity and his personality. “When a customer comes to me, he knows exactly what he’s going to get. I don’t disappoint him and that makes me feel very good. I never forget that without the customer, I wouldn’t be here.”

Bringing A Soul To Life: Interview with Debra Hindlemann Webster

Hillary Webster, now 14, is an active child with large grey eyes, and inch-long brown hair.  She was born with multiple congenital anomalies:  Tube-fed (gastrostomy) since birth; a breathing tube (tracheostomy); impaired fine and gross motor control; autistic tendencies.  Hillary has massive cranial nerve damage  (nerves which control the operation of neck, face, sensory, vocal and eating abilities).  She is Deaf, she is learning disabled, she has Tourette Syndrome.

Hillary has been kept alive with the support of 5 life-support machines, and she requires 24 hour per day medical care.  She can experience touch and sight, but she cannot smell, taste, nor hear.  Although she knows some sign language, she has a major language disorder.  Yet, despite the challenges, Hillary’s mom points out that “she is bright, strong-willed, and has been raised as a well child:  She lives at home, she goes to public school, and she has friends.”

Always looking for ways to encourage her daughter to respond to her environment, Debra Webster had read that therapeutic riding often proved beneficial.  She felt that what it offered—a sense of locomotion, control, and bonding—were worthwhile pursuits.  When Hillary turned 5, she was enrolled in a weekly therapeutic program.

Debra cautions:  “It’s difficult to specifically gauge the effect that the horses had upon Hillary because she cannot express her thoughts as others do, and speak for herself.  However, there is every reason to believe that her riding experience helped enormously.”

It was her mother’s goal to provide Hillary with the opportunities which could be gained from riding.  The animals were available to demonstrate the sensation of locomotion, and Debra reports, “The horses’ movements beneath Hillary were as though they were her own.”   Hillary began to walk. 

Hillary had been involved in physical therapy since her birth, as well as the more recent therapeutic riding; it is impossible to say which form of therapy contributed which ingredient, or which was the more influential.  Yet, after 2 years of riding, Hillary was able to walk independently—she had finally understood the process.

Riding definitely helped Hillary to gain a sense of control and self-esteem.  Sometimes Hillary would start to cry when she was first put on the horse, but when her mom or dad asked if she wished to stop riding, she refused.  She insisted on continuing her lessons.  Riding gave her the feeling that she was someone special; she could finally do something which none of her friends knew how.

Hillary took lessons for 6 years, and her mother states that Hillary looked forward to the relationship she shared with the animals.  She treasured the grooming, the saddling and unsaddling, the feeding time.  It was soothing to both Hillary, and her mount.  She enjoyed watching the animals for hours—especially their lips and whiskers (how they moved when they ate).  Perhaps it was because Hillary’s facial muscles were paralyzed; perhaps it was because Hillary could not eat by mouth.  Whatever the reason, she was fascinated.

Possibly the most important aspect gained by Hillary from therapeutic riding was that she made friends with the horses.  She allowed them into her withdrawn and silent world, and they helped her to understand how to reach out and relate to others. 

Hillary made significant strides in her 6 years with the therapy.  She experienced the Special Olympics and multiple horse-shows.  She was able to win ribbons—something that field-days in public school could not accommodate for children with multiple disabilities. 

As the years have gone by and Hillary has matured, her experiences have broadened and her interests have narrowed more to those things where she can do her best.  Riding has become less of a priority, replaced with art, computers, and picture books.  

“Even though her interests have changed, there is every reason to believe that therapeutic horseback riding was a significant influence in her life,” said Hillary Webster’s mother.  “The animals encouraged my daughter to accept the challenges of movement, of increased self-confidence and self-esteem, and of increased empathy with other living beings.”

Deaf Capitalizing on Cultural Pride: Editorial for National Association of the Deaf (NAD) Broadcaster

catwalker/shutterstock.com

America's Deaf community adopted a capital "D" to promote self-respect.  Tired of the old image that deaf people are disabled, the silent culture has come up with its own powerful identity, insisting that "Deaf" begin with a capital "D."

"A basic rule of English grammar is that all proper nouns are capitalized.  That's any specific person, place, thing, or idea--including Deaf life," said Mary Elstad, former teacher at the Colorado School for Deaf & Blind.

Tom Willard, editor for "Silent News," a national Deaf newspaper wrote, "When 'deaf' is not capitalized, it generally refers to...a physical disability. When it is capitalized, it denotes deafness as a cultural trait...as Hispanic or Russian is capitalized."

A person can be one, the other, or both.  The first is circumstance; the second is commitment.

It has become evident that Deaf people have pride in their own way of life. Popularity of the National Theater of the Deaf; Gallaudet University students choosing their own Deaf president; increased demand for use of American Sign Language; closed captioning of films and television programs; these are strong indicators of a thriving culture.

Mourene Tesler, executive director of Denver's Center on Deafness and activist for the Deaf said, "We think of Jews and Japanese--not jews and japanese--as peoples with their own languages, TV programs, theaters, newspapers, and schools.  They have their own styles, senses of humor, behaviors.  They are separate cultures existing within the mainstream.  The Deaf world is no different, and expects the same recognition."