timepieces. Sam knew how to sell. Abraham knew how to command respect. Why not pool their resources in a family firm? What the sons proposed to their father was to take the chirping alarm clock idea and expand it into a full-fledged wholesale operation specializing in silverware, clocks, and cut glass.
The father stroked his beard. The boys held their breath. The wife and daughters sat with their hands in their laps. If Abraham said no, the idea would die on the spot.
Finally, the father broke the silence.
I have over a thousand dollars in savings
, he told his sons.
What I have Iâll combine with what you have
. How on earth had Abraham accumulated that much money? And to give it all to them, just like that, to start a business?
One of themânobody remembers who but it was probably Harryâproposed a name: A. Cohen & Sons.
Abraham Cohen had never been a wage slave. With a business in the family, his sons and grandsons would never have to be wage slaves either. The father gave his blessing and A. Cohen & Sons was born.
By November 1911, they had found an empty storefront to rent at 126 East Broadwayâa redbrick five-story tenement building with ground-floor retail space. Two big cast-iron-framed windows on the street, a tall black door, a storage cellar. They signed a yearâs lease at fifty dollars a month. It was a prime location on the Lower East Sideâs main commercial arteryâEast Broadway, âthe sentimental heart and the battling mind of our ghetto,â was lined with coffeehouses, newspaper offices, schools for rabbis, Zionist organizations, and the headquarters of Jewish charities. Their shop front stood a block from the newly opened Garden Cafeteria, where Yiddish journalists, writers, intellectuals, and union organizers gathered to schmooze and drink tea; a block and a half from the Educational Alliance, where every self-improving immigrant took night classes; another half block from the headquarters of the
Jewish Daily Forward
going up at 175 East Broadwayâat ten stories, the tallest and finest building in the neighborhood, complete with marble columns and carved busts of Marx and Engels.
They hired a painter to dab the company name on one of the windowsin gold letters etched in blackâA. Cohen & Sons, Importers & Jobbersâand in January 1912, the company opened for business. Abraham was president. Harry and Sam were co-proprietors. Hyman, at eighteen, was too young to be listed as a legal owner, but the three brothers were equal partners from the start and they would always draw equal salaries. Once there was enough profit to draw a salary.
In the first months they ran the business in their spare time. Sam kept peddling, Hyman held on to his position with Kienzle, Abraham retained the concession at the Rivington Street shul. Harry worked the neighborhood taking orders during the day, and Hyman came in at night and all day Sunday to package up what Harry had sold. The Cohen brothers were middlemen, buying from manufacturers and selling to retailers, though many of their retailers were in fact pawnbrokers or custom peddlers who hawked merchandise door-to-door and street to street. They were always squeezed for cash, always scrambling to eke out a few more days and a few extra dollars of credit. A year after they opened for business the companyâs net worth was $3,091.79â$91.79 more than the initial investment.
The Cohen brothers were not pioneers or visionaries; they had not hit on some essential new product or revolutionary process; they were not going to corner the market, make headlines, or have their names emblazoned on college libraries or hospital wings. But they were eager and determined and they kept an eye cocked for the angle or niche. Hyman figured out a way to make inroads into the silverware market by selling direct to the proprietors of Catskills boardinghouses and vacation farms that catered to urban Jews. If the guests kept kosher, the
The father stroked his beard. The boys held their breath. The wife and daughters sat with their hands in their laps. If Abraham said no, the idea would die on the spot.
Finally, the father broke the silence.
I have over a thousand dollars in savings
, he told his sons.
What I have Iâll combine with what you have
. How on earth had Abraham accumulated that much money? And to give it all to them, just like that, to start a business?
One of themânobody remembers who but it was probably Harryâproposed a name: A. Cohen & Sons.
Abraham Cohen had never been a wage slave. With a business in the family, his sons and grandsons would never have to be wage slaves either. The father gave his blessing and A. Cohen & Sons was born.
By November 1911, they had found an empty storefront to rent at 126 East Broadwayâa redbrick five-story tenement building with ground-floor retail space. Two big cast-iron-framed windows on the street, a tall black door, a storage cellar. They signed a yearâs lease at fifty dollars a month. It was a prime location on the Lower East Sideâs main commercial arteryâEast Broadway, âthe sentimental heart and the battling mind of our ghetto,â was lined with coffeehouses, newspaper offices, schools for rabbis, Zionist organizations, and the headquarters of Jewish charities. Their shop front stood a block from the newly opened Garden Cafeteria, where Yiddish journalists, writers, intellectuals, and union organizers gathered to schmooze and drink tea; a block and a half from the Educational Alliance, where every self-improving immigrant took night classes; another half block from the headquarters of the
Jewish Daily Forward
going up at 175 East Broadwayâat ten stories, the tallest and finest building in the neighborhood, complete with marble columns and carved busts of Marx and Engels.
They hired a painter to dab the company name on one of the windowsin gold letters etched in blackâA. Cohen & Sons, Importers & Jobbersâand in January 1912, the company opened for business. Abraham was president. Harry and Sam were co-proprietors. Hyman, at eighteen, was too young to be listed as a legal owner, but the three brothers were equal partners from the start and they would always draw equal salaries. Once there was enough profit to draw a salary.
In the first months they ran the business in their spare time. Sam kept peddling, Hyman held on to his position with Kienzle, Abraham retained the concession at the Rivington Street shul. Harry worked the neighborhood taking orders during the day, and Hyman came in at night and all day Sunday to package up what Harry had sold. The Cohen brothers were middlemen, buying from manufacturers and selling to retailers, though many of their retailers were in fact pawnbrokers or custom peddlers who hawked merchandise door-to-door and street to street. They were always squeezed for cash, always scrambling to eke out a few more days and a few extra dollars of credit. A year after they opened for business the companyâs net worth was $3,091.79â$91.79 more than the initial investment.
The Cohen brothers were not pioneers or visionaries; they had not hit on some essential new product or revolutionary process; they were not going to corner the market, make headlines, or have their names emblazoned on college libraries or hospital wings. But they were eager and determined and they kept an eye cocked for the angle or niche. Hyman figured out a way to make inroads into the silverware market by selling direct to the proprietors of Catskills boardinghouses and vacation farms that catered to urban Jews. If the guests kept kosher, the
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