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Authors: Adriana Trigiani
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Relationships, Relationships
The schmatte business, or the rag trade, as it was known then, whose epicenter was in midtown Manhattan, was built on years of relationships, cultivated from the time when my grandparents were young. These alliances and, ultimately, friendships were the fuel that drove the engine of the Yolanda Manufacturing Company. All the years on the floor of the factory mastering new tasks and equipment taught my grandparents everything they needed to know to run their own shop. But, they knew they couldnât do it alone. Relationships would sustain the new operation and help it grow. Loyalty was rewarded. If they liked you in the garment district, they looked out for you, and would recommend you for extra work, or offer you new opportunities that would challenge your work force, and build your business.
In those days (Yolanda Manufacturing was founded in 1943, with the official paperwork of my grandparentsâ business partnership filed in 1945), most clothes worn in the United States and around the world were made in these small American factories (northeastern Pennsylvania was loaded with them). My grandparents created higher-end blouses sold in department stores by middlemen who also took a cut, many of the designs inspired by fashions worn in the movies. In our current celebrity-driven culture, itâs an interesting note that the hunger for Hollywood glamour was key to design, production, and sales even then.
Often a movie star would lend her name to a pattern company, sponsor a fashion line, or let a character she played take the honors to sell a particular garment to the general public. There were varying degrees of participation by the actresses, and their compensation reflected their input and effort. The tags that hung on the blouses featured their glamorous faces, often printed with their signatures. Sometimes their signature was a true endorsement; other times, their image was simply on contractual loan for a set time period, to push ready-made goods to the discerning shopper looking for her own handful of Hollywood stardust.
Viola told me about the various styles of blouses made in their factory, including one that was known as the Gene Tierney, a blouse with a horse embroidered on the pocket, a variation of which was worn by the starlet in a movie. For my grandparents, whose own romance had blossomed in the early 1930s, with dates to Hollywood movies as their favorite pastime, it seemed that things had come full circle. How long would the good times last?
Eventually, ceding to my grandfatherâs illness, they sold the Yolanda Manufacturing Company in 1967. They had been in business for themselves for twenty-four years. Later, when we talked about the closing of the factory, it was with great sadness on Violaâs part. They closed the factory on March 15, 1967. Ironically, one year later to the day, Michael Trigiani died. Viola lost her husband and her factory in close proximity, responding to the loss of both with her typical pluck: she went back to work.
While Viola retired from the Yolanda Manufacturing Company, she did not officially from the workforce. Within a year of my grandfatherâs death, she found herself back on the machines, subbing as an operator in a friendâs blouse mill. She became a factory temp, and loved it. When she reached the age of seventy-two, she was thrilled, because thatâs the official age when the United States government waives income tax. She could put in an eight-hour day on the machine and keep the tax money. The drive and ambition that had served her all of her working life now came with a bonus at the end, and she reveled in it.
One by one, the bustling, busy, profitable, family-owned factories closed in Northampton County until only a few stalwarts remained through the 1970s, pushing hard, using the old manufacturing model as long as they could, until the work was no longer there. By the mid-1980s, most manufacturing had
The schmatte business, or the rag trade, as it was known then, whose epicenter was in midtown Manhattan, was built on years of relationships, cultivated from the time when my grandparents were young. These alliances and, ultimately, friendships were the fuel that drove the engine of the Yolanda Manufacturing Company. All the years on the floor of the factory mastering new tasks and equipment taught my grandparents everything they needed to know to run their own shop. But, they knew they couldnât do it alone. Relationships would sustain the new operation and help it grow. Loyalty was rewarded. If they liked you in the garment district, they looked out for you, and would recommend you for extra work, or offer you new opportunities that would challenge your work force, and build your business.
In those days (Yolanda Manufacturing was founded in 1943, with the official paperwork of my grandparentsâ business partnership filed in 1945), most clothes worn in the United States and around the world were made in these small American factories (northeastern Pennsylvania was loaded with them). My grandparents created higher-end blouses sold in department stores by middlemen who also took a cut, many of the designs inspired by fashions worn in the movies. In our current celebrity-driven culture, itâs an interesting note that the hunger for Hollywood glamour was key to design, production, and sales even then.
Often a movie star would lend her name to a pattern company, sponsor a fashion line, or let a character she played take the honors to sell a particular garment to the general public. There were varying degrees of participation by the actresses, and their compensation reflected their input and effort. The tags that hung on the blouses featured their glamorous faces, often printed with their signatures. Sometimes their signature was a true endorsement; other times, their image was simply on contractual loan for a set time period, to push ready-made goods to the discerning shopper looking for her own handful of Hollywood stardust.
Viola told me about the various styles of blouses made in their factory, including one that was known as the Gene Tierney, a blouse with a horse embroidered on the pocket, a variation of which was worn by the starlet in a movie. For my grandparents, whose own romance had blossomed in the early 1930s, with dates to Hollywood movies as their favorite pastime, it seemed that things had come full circle. How long would the good times last?
Eventually, ceding to my grandfatherâs illness, they sold the Yolanda Manufacturing Company in 1967. They had been in business for themselves for twenty-four years. Later, when we talked about the closing of the factory, it was with great sadness on Violaâs part. They closed the factory on March 15, 1967. Ironically, one year later to the day, Michael Trigiani died. Viola lost her husband and her factory in close proximity, responding to the loss of both with her typical pluck: she went back to work.
While Viola retired from the Yolanda Manufacturing Company, she did not officially from the workforce. Within a year of my grandfatherâs death, she found herself back on the machines, subbing as an operator in a friendâs blouse mill. She became a factory temp, and loved it. When she reached the age of seventy-two, she was thrilled, because thatâs the official age when the United States government waives income tax. She could put in an eight-hour day on the machine and keep the tax money. The drive and ambition that had served her all of her working life now came with a bonus at the end, and she reveled in it.
One by one, the bustling, busy, profitable, family-owned factories closed in Northampton County until only a few stalwarts remained through the 1970s, pushing hard, using the old manufacturing model as long as they could, until the work was no longer there. By the mid-1980s, most manufacturing had
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