Measure of a Man (28 page)
One Brooklynite who has already made the world proud is Sir Gilbert Levine, the Jewish American conductor better known as “the pope’s maestro.” Levine, whose mother-in-law is an Auschwitz survivor, was the conductor of the Krakow Philharmonic in Pope John Paul II’s hometown in Poland from 1987 to 1993. The pope admired his work so much that he asked him to lead the
concert marking the tenth anniversary of his pontificate, as well as subsequent concerts for the church. In his wisdom, John Paul II understood how his friendship and appreciation of this Jewish American conductor could usher in a spirit of healing between Catholics and Jews around the world.
On one of his visits to the Vatican, Levine saw Cardinal Renato Raffaele Martino, who represented the Holy See in the United Nations. Each looked at the other and admired his suit. The cardinal asked the conductor, “Where did you get that suit?” Levine replied, “There is this tailor in Brooklyn. . . .” Before he could finish, Martino opened his suit jacket and showed that he, too, was sporting a Martin Greenfield label.
In 1994, the Holy See invested Levine as a knight commander of the Order of St. Gregory the Great, the highest pontifical knighthood bestowed to a non-ecclesiastical musician since Mozart. In 2010, Pope Benedict XVI conferred on Levine the further distinction of the order’s Silver Star.
I’ve learned in this crazy fashion business of ours to expect the unexpected. When we were asked to dress the Emmy-winning actor James Spader for NBC’s
The Blacklist
, I didn’t realize that my own show-biz career was about to begin. For the first season, we made twelve suits, twenty-eight vests, and thirty pants for James, who plays Raymond “Red” Reddington on the show. He and I hit it off the first time we met. His magnetic energy draws you in immediately. He and
The Blacklist
team loved the factory and the history behind it. So much so, in fact, that they filmed three scenes of the series’ seventh episode, season one, at the factory.
“If we’re filming at Martin Greenfield Clothiers we have to have Martin in the scene,” said James.
“Me?” I said.
“Of course.”
“What would I do?”
“You’d be Martin the tailor. I think you’re perfect for the role, don’t you?”
The scene required me to fit James’s character. James is such a sweet friend that he refashioned the original script to work my name into the line so that “Red” says, “Martin, do you think the pants are too tight?” A few sharp-eyed fashion bloggers recognized my face in the scene and picked up on James’s reference to “Martin.” We also received several phone calls from friends, including one who informed us that
The Blacklist
“had a character on screen that looked just like Martin—and even had the same name!”
Shaping the look and styles of movie and TV characters is the professional side of the fun. Knowing about TV shows and movies before the public does excites the kid in me. Right now, for example, we’re creating the looks of at least nine characters on the new Batman-based Fox TV series
Gotham
; making clothes for the Oscar Isaac and Albert Brooks movie
A Most Violent Year
; working with Steven Soderbergh on
The Knick
, a Cinemax drama set in early twentieth-century New York starring Clive Owen; and making suits for a forthcoming, as-yet-unnamed HBO rock-’n’-roll series set in the 1970s directed by Martin Scorsese and produced by Mick Jagger. We are also excited to be working with Juliet Polcsa and HBO on their project honoring the life of Joe Paterno, starring Al Pacino; and dressing Ed Burns for the show he stars in
and co-produces with Steven Spielberg,
Public Morals
, a police drama set in New York City in the ’60s.
In the nearly seventy years I’ve spent in fashion, I’ve never tired of the rush that comes when creative forces collide. Artists fuel artists. Helping directors, screenwriters, actors, and costume designers make their dreams and artistic visions a reality still sparks a childlike sense of wonder in me. The day that stops, so will I.
M
y life has been filled with far more light than darkness. America can do that—flood you with more blessings than you could ever deserve.
One of those blessings came Saturday, August 9, 2008. Growing up, I had never celebrated my Bar Mitzvah. By the time I was thirteen I had already fled from Pavlovo to Budapest. So when our Hampton Synagogue in Westhampton Beach told me I could celebrate my Bar Mitzvah on my eightieth birthday, I was ecstatic. Rabbi Marc Schneier would officiate. When he was thirteen years old, I made his suit for his Bar Mitzvah. Now he would be conducting mine.
In preparation for my big day, I had to learn a special
trope
(tune) to chant the
Haftarah
, a reading from the prophets that
comes after the Torah reading. The
Jewish World
newspaper asked me if I was having any trouble learning the tune. It was a little tricky, I told them, but I wasn’t worried about it. “If I get it wrong, what are they going to do? Shoot me?”
I could hardly wait to share the big day with my family and five hundred of our friends. When Saturday finally arrived, I wore my three-piece lavender seersucker suit. Standing before the congregation, I looked across the rows. Every face was a memory. Jay and Tod and their wives, Cheryl and Bonnie, were there, as were Arlene and my precious grandchildren, Amy, David, Sofia, and Rachel. I cried when my eyes met theirs.
Throughout the ceremony I imagined my mother, father, sisters, and baby brother looking down on me. But instead of sadness, I felt joy. When Rabbi Schneier placed the black and white striped
tallit
(prayer shawl) around me, I felt God’s presence and peace.
“Here you have a survivor of the Holocaust who understands that our people’s response to destruction is construction,” said Rabbi Schneier. “Marty reconstructed his life. He built a successful business, and also a beautiful, loving family.”
When it was my turn to speak, I told the congregation that today was a day for celebration. “Did I survive because I’m a hero? No,” I said. “I survived maybe because God wanted me to survive. Or maybe I was lucky—I don’t know. But I’m here. The biggest celebration of my life is today, because the odds were so against me. And I made it here, at eighty.”
Only one explanation for my improbable life makes sense: God allowed America to make me possible.
I might have died a dozen times over, burned in the ovens at Auschwitz or slain at Buchenwald or some other camp, as my family and six million others were.
I might have fallen with the frozen on the Death March to Gleiwitz.
I might have been caught sneaking rations to the dying, been beaten to death, or been blown up when the bombs rained down.
I might never have found my relatives and known the joy that only family brings.
I might have wandered through life with an empty heart, never finding and marrying my dream girl.
I might never have experienced God’s gift of children, wonderful sons whose hearts and talents helped build and grow my only-in-America dream.
But for some grace-filled reason, against all logic and probability, God led Americans to fight for me, to save me, to claim me as their own, to nurture me with opportunities, and to help me build a home where I could love and raise my family in my beloved Brooklyn.
I’m left with nothing but gratitude and joy for my life.
Some things, it turns out, are beyond measure.
W
riting a book is a little like creating a custom suit: dozens of pieces and people must all come together to help turn a vision into a seamless reality.
I want to thank Dr. Myron Finkel and Meredith McIver for helping me find Wynton Hall.
Thank you, Wynton, for helping me gather my scattered thoughts and keeping me focused. This book could not have been assembled without your laser vision and talent. Thanks also to Wynton’s lovely wife, Michelle Hall, for all her valuable help and to their two precious daughters, Bella and Blakely.
And speaking of family, I of course want to thank my siblings and my parents for the values they imparted to me. Mom and Dad: I hope you are looking down with pride.
What can I say about my wife, Arlene, who has put up with me for fifty-seven years? Thank you for your love, patience, tolerance, and understanding. You have been at my side through the good and the bad. I love you more than words can express. You are my heart and my everything.
Our two sons, Jay and Tod, are
both
my right arm. My pride in them is infinite. I am lucky to have Jay’s wife, Cheryl, and Tod’s wife, Bonnie, as my daughters-in-law (guys, you picked well). I am happy to have their families, the Goras and the Bronszteins, as part of our family. Thank you, Paula and Jack Gora and Gilda and the late Morris Bronsztein, for the lovely gift of your daughters. Without question my grandchildren are, of course, the smartest, most beautiful grandchildren a grandfather could ever wish for. Amy, David, Rachel, and Sofia: Know that my love and pride in you are boundless. You are our family’s future.
I’m grateful for Arlene’s brother Kal and her mom and dad who embraced me and were always there for me.
A special thanks to all my newfound cousins in America: Frances and Moe (thank you for taking me in), Barb and Stan, Natalie and Bernie, Rikki and Louis, Joan and Lou, Ronnie, Dr. Larry and Sue, Alan and Leah, and the Gelbs and your wonderful families. I love you all.
Arlene extended my family with the addition of her cousins. Rhetta and Dr. Max and the Felton family; Judge Harold; Joseph and Francine; Gerry, Sam, and Judge Irma; Vivian; Ilene; Phyliss; Dr. Richard; Dr. Harold and Elsa; Dr. Saul and Ellen; and last but not least, Vivian, and their terrific children and grandchildren.
