The Faded Ad Wall on West 36th: Sam Landorf & Co.

Sam Landorf & Co. is the ad most erased by time on the hanging gardens of faded advertising that is the westerly wall of 64-70 W. 36th Street. You can barely see the "Sam" and the stuff beneath it is almost impossible to read. It says "creator of infants and children's dresses," I think. I wonder by Landorf's paint job faded so much more than his neighbors'. Shoddy paint? Excess exposure to sunlight and rain?

Landorf was a resident of this building for a shorter period of time than any of the other businesses featured in these ads. He moved in 1950 and moved out 1956, decamping to 34th Street. The concern was founded by Sam Landorf, who spent his whole life in the garment trade. Sam was born on the Lower East Side and went to work at the age of 13. The company was founded in 1949. Sam had spent many years at the Joseph Love & Co. before striking out on his own.

Landorf was a quick success. In the 1950s, he produced a line of girls' frocks called "Cinderella" and another called "Youngland." In 1954, the New York Times said Landorf had "pushed the Youngland Dress trade-mark close to the top in the short space of five years." Landorf sold $8 million in goods in 1954. He had nine factories in New York, Pennsylvania and Texas. The Youngland dresses were very safe and traditional, but made more of a fashion statement than had previously been the case with mid-priced girls frocks. Landorf was still advertising Youngblood in New York magazine in the early '80s. The ad said its children's dresses were carried at Macy's.

Here's a sample of a Youngland dress:

Sam had two sons: Howard (who was married at the Waldorf=Astoria) and Floyd (who was married at the Plaza). Floyd had a daughter, Carol, who also went into the garment business. This family was big on placing wedding and birth announcements in the Times. But then, they had more than enough money to buy space in the Paper of Record.

Sam Landorf died on Jan. 8, 1963, of a coronary thrombosis while on a vacation cruise with his wife Lillian. I know so much about Sam's death because his family was the subject of a 1969 U.S. Claims Court case. Something about capital gains and an insurance policy, as I gather. The company lasted until the 1990s.

The Faded Ad Wall on West 36th: Bo Peep Mfg. Co.

Of all the old painted advertisements that climb up the west wall of 64-70 W. 36th Street, the Bo Peep Manufacturing Company—second ad from the top—has the most fanciful and memorable name.

The company was founded in the 1920s. In the early 1930s, it was situated at 1350 Broadway, off Herald Square. It was located here from 1941 to 1957. It ceased business sometime in the 1970s.

It's ad message is curious and unclear: "Brother and Sister, Individual and Companion Clothes, Play Togs." What does that mean exactly. Brother and Sister probably means they make clothes for little boys and girls. I get that. But how do clothes differ between a single person and a person with a companion?

The Faded Ad Wall on West 36th: Alco Blouse Co.

This is my third investigation into the histories behind the puzzlework of faded, painted ads on the west side of the mid-sized brick tower that is 64-70 W. 36th Street.

Alco Blouse Co. moved into this building in 1938 and moved out around 1950. (All the businesses featured in these ads seemed to have been residents between the mid-'30s and mid-'60s.) Alco was, tantalizingly, "manufacturers of cotton and silk popular blouses." Popular!

Maybe they were popular because, unlike other garment makers in this building, they made things out of natural fabrics. No rayon for Alco!

I've found out who ran Alco. It was Sy H. Corak and Albert Corak. I know this because they took out an obituary in 1948 in the New York Times mourning their "beloved friend associate" Paul Henry Klein. This also gives us the key to the name. Albert Corak = Alco.

Albert liked to take out space in the Times. Albert's son Howard got engaged in 1952, and the happy occasion was featured in the broadsheet. The day before that announcement came out, Corak got in the paper for a different reason, when the police were reported to have caught a notorious cat burglar at Corak's Great Neck home.

As for Sy, in 1953 it was reported that he was developing 103 homes on Long Meadow, L.I., to be part of a housing development called Broadlawn Estates. I guess Sy made a lot of money while Alco was on W. 36th.

The Faded Ad Wall on West 36th: J.D. Sachs Co.

This is post two in my search for the histories behind the faded ads that paper the west side wall of 70 W. 36th Street.

J.D. Sachs is the third painted ad from the bottom of the wall. The name is still fairly visible from the street. Less legible are the smaller messages "Infants & Children's Sportswear," and "Sizes 1 to 14." The Sachs company occupied this building from 1946 to 1960. In 1960, Sachs came up with a new skirt for girls called the "Adjust-a-Pleat." The skirt had "an adjustable band threaded with a thonged belt to allow for snug fit regardless of waist size." They were drip dry and needed no ironing, and were made of "acrilan" and rayon. You could buy than at Ohrbach's on Union Square.

I don't know what happened to the company. But in the late '70s and early '80s, you start reading about a J.D. Sachs based in Pennsylvania. Only they don't sell children's clothing. They sell mountain and outdoor gear. Perhaps the company transitioned into a new line and moved out of New York.

The Faded Ad Wall on West 36th: Weber Original Blouses

By some miracle, a entire building wall of faded ads at 70 W. 36 Street between Sixth and Fifth Avenues has survived. There are more than a half dozen, positioned like building blocks, one on top of another, along the edge of a building just to the left of Keens Chop House. Most advertise once thriving garment companies in the area, now all vanished.

I've looked at these ads many a time. The other day, while gazing up on them again, and feeling thankful that they were still there, I was gripped by a desire to know more about the companies whose names were painted on the brick. So I've decided to decode each ad, one by one.

I'll start with one of the simplest and most clearly readable from the street. Weber Original Blouses. I like how each of the three words has a different font and a different personality.

You'll see Weber blouses advertised by vintage clothing shops on the Internet today. The company was only at this address from 1948 to 1959, after which they moved to Seventh Avenue. So I'm guessing that's when the ad dates from. The business survived until the 1970s. The outfit seems to have dealt in the then-popular man-made fabrics of nylon and dacron. Who founded it, I could not discover. I guess people don't really care that much about recording for posterity who created some little blouse company in Manhattan in the mid-20th century.