Madison Hardware
Posted: Mon Jan 07, 2019 3:25 am
I am a heathen 2 railer, but when I was younger, I lusted for certain Lionel items. I heard about Madison Hardware, and figured that must be the "Mecca" for trainaholics, but it was way out of the turf that was accessible to me as a young lad, and ultimately, I never made it to those hallowed grounds.
On that note, I saw this article quite a while back, and as I have always been intrigued by the fabled store I copied it, and sent it to myself in an E-Mail. It is, in my opinion, an interesting and well done piece. I can't remember where I copied it from, but when I stumbled across it and reread it this evening, I had a bit of a revelation and a few other things made sense.
There was no signature, but there is catch phrase, and upon reading it, I immediately knew the author. I'm curious how many of you can come up with the person who wrote this! Might be a piece of cake, might not.....depends on one factor. I copied the piece in 2013.
MADISON HARDWARE
The Shur family was not related to the Cowens.
Carl Shaw changed his name because of anti-Semitism in the entertainment biz. He was a song & dance man in Vaudeville
They had a key-making machine. They sold hardware and toys until the trains took over every square inch of space.
A crook walked in one day and put an ABA New York Central Diesel set in the inside of his overcoat and walked out.
They employed a parts and repair man named Joe. He would often appear from the little workshop area under the stairs, covered in grime, dressed in a dirty tee shirt and bib overalls. He could recognize and pick out thousands of small parts from bins in the back of the store, and could fix any broken train that came in. Repaired items and those waiting to be repaired cluttered the floor around the rear of the store. Some had repair tickets on them, and some were packed in boxes, waiting for the UPS man to arrive.
Frank Sinatra was a frequent visitor. He reserved the store on a Sunday in order to have the run of the place. He arrived, picked out several thousand dollars worth of stuff, and then suddenly decided not to buy any of it. He never told Carl and Lou why he reneged.
The inventory fit into 14 tractor-trailer trucks. The store was just the tip of the iceberg. There was a warehouse in the 7 stories above the store, and an adjacent building. There were so many boxed items in master cartons from the Lionel factory that even the brothers had trouble remembering what they had. I saw a stack of about ten huge cardboard boxes, each holding probably a gross of Timken boxcar shells, just sitting under some leaking pipes. They stood there for years. So, a thousand shells, at say $25 each, for a total of $25,000, and that was just one stack in a huge warehouse.
I was their telephone repairman during the 1980's right up to the end of operations. They had telephone number "SPRing 1111" (212-777-1111) from the beginning of operations.
I was their last customer. (I bought a David O. King box cab electric in the "McGinnis" color scheme on the day after the official last day of business.)
Whenever I would visit to do some work for them, or just to hang out, they insisted on sending out for liverwurst and onion on rye sandwiches, with a dill pickle, to be washed down with Dr. Brown's cream soda. To those who are not from New York City, that is the standard lunch for many old businessmen. Their reputation for nastiness was well-documented, but in real life they were very generous and kindly old men.
I visited Lou's house on Long Island. He was a pistol expert and instructor, and had a full-length firing range in his basement. At 80+ years of age, his handshake would crack your hand.
The only train on display in his house was a #700 scale Hudson. "I hate all trains, all ages and all gauges" he would often snarl.
_________________
"I'll have the roast duck...with the mango salsa."
On that note, I saw this article quite a while back, and as I have always been intrigued by the fabled store I copied it, and sent it to myself in an E-Mail. It is, in my opinion, an interesting and well done piece. I can't remember where I copied it from, but when I stumbled across it and reread it this evening, I had a bit of a revelation and a few other things made sense.
There was no signature, but there is catch phrase, and upon reading it, I immediately knew the author. I'm curious how many of you can come up with the person who wrote this! Might be a piece of cake, might not.....depends on one factor. I copied the piece in 2013.
MADISON HARDWARE
The Shur family was not related to the Cowens.
Carl Shaw changed his name because of anti-Semitism in the entertainment biz. He was a song & dance man in Vaudeville
They had a key-making machine. They sold hardware and toys until the trains took over every square inch of space.
A crook walked in one day and put an ABA New York Central Diesel set in the inside of his overcoat and walked out.
They employed a parts and repair man named Joe. He would often appear from the little workshop area under the stairs, covered in grime, dressed in a dirty tee shirt and bib overalls. He could recognize and pick out thousands of small parts from bins in the back of the store, and could fix any broken train that came in. Repaired items and those waiting to be repaired cluttered the floor around the rear of the store. Some had repair tickets on them, and some were packed in boxes, waiting for the UPS man to arrive.
Frank Sinatra was a frequent visitor. He reserved the store on a Sunday in order to have the run of the place. He arrived, picked out several thousand dollars worth of stuff, and then suddenly decided not to buy any of it. He never told Carl and Lou why he reneged.
The inventory fit into 14 tractor-trailer trucks. The store was just the tip of the iceberg. There was a warehouse in the 7 stories above the store, and an adjacent building. There were so many boxed items in master cartons from the Lionel factory that even the brothers had trouble remembering what they had. I saw a stack of about ten huge cardboard boxes, each holding probably a gross of Timken boxcar shells, just sitting under some leaking pipes. They stood there for years. So, a thousand shells, at say $25 each, for a total of $25,000, and that was just one stack in a huge warehouse.
I was their telephone repairman during the 1980's right up to the end of operations. They had telephone number "SPRing 1111" (212-777-1111) from the beginning of operations.
I was their last customer. (I bought a David O. King box cab electric in the "McGinnis" color scheme on the day after the official last day of business.)
Whenever I would visit to do some work for them, or just to hang out, they insisted on sending out for liverwurst and onion on rye sandwiches, with a dill pickle, to be washed down with Dr. Brown's cream soda. To those who are not from New York City, that is the standard lunch for many old businessmen. Their reputation for nastiness was well-documented, but in real life they were very generous and kindly old men.
I visited Lou's house on Long Island. He was a pistol expert and instructor, and had a full-length firing range in his basement. At 80+ years of age, his handshake would crack your hand.
The only train on display in his house was a #700 scale Hudson. "I hate all trains, all ages and all gauges" he would often snarl.
_________________
"I'll have the roast duck...with the mango salsa."
