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Updated: May 29, 2025
For more than a year Morris acted as designer, and with one or two unfortunate exceptions, the styles he originated had been entirely satisfactory to Potash & Perlmutter's growing trade. The one or two unfortunate exceptions, however, had been a source of some loss to the firm.
The thirty days succeeding Morris Perlmutter's visit to Madison Street were busy ones for all the Kronbergs. Alex had accompanied Max Gershon to Bridgetown, where conditions more than fulfilled Abe's glowing account, and the formation of the Kronberg-Gershon Drygoods Company proceeded without delay.
For several days afterward Miss Kreitmann went about her work with nothing but scowls for Potash & Perlmutter's customers, married and unmarried alike. "The thing goes too far, Abe," Morris protested. "She kills our entire trade. Hahn or no Hahn, Abe, I say we should fire her." Abe shook his head. "It ain't necessary, Mawruss," he replied. "What d'ye mean?" "The girl gets desperate, Mawruss.
Thus when Noblestone repaired to the office of Zudrowsky & Cohen at closing time that afternoon, he fairly outdid himself extolling Morris Perlmutter's merits, and he presented so high colored a picture that Zudrowsky deprecated the business broker's enthusiasm. "Say, looky here, Noblestone," he said, "enough's enough.
"You don't know what you are talking about, Abe." Nevertheless, when Felix Geigermann, the well-known Harlem dry-goods merchant and violin dilettante, entered Potash & Perlmutter's showroom the next morning Morris greeted him with some misgiving. "Hello, Felix!" he said. "Are you giving us a repeat order so soon already on them 4022's?" Felix shook his head.
Morris nodded and hastened to break the good news to Miss Cohen, who for the remainder of the week divided her time between Potash & Perlmutter's accounts and a dozen multicolored railroad folders. "Look at that, Mawruss," Abe said as he gazed through the glass paneling of the show-room toward the bookkeeper's desk. "That girl ain't done it a stroke of work since we told her she could go already.
"Your man should go with him," Morris insisted. "He and you will not lose by it." Morris wrote the address on the back of one of Potash & Perlmutter's business cards and handed it to her. "Put on it the table," she said. "Tell your man," Morris continued, "if he does take this old man to Steuermann I myself will pay him twenty-five dollars."
Two days after Abe's return to New York he sat in Potash & Perlmutter's show-room, going over next year's models as published in the Daily Cloak and Suit Record. His partner, Morris Perlmutter, puffed disconsolately at a cigar which a competitor had given him in exchange for credit information.
He went to a closet in the corner, and unlocking it he exposed the fashionable suit that he had worn at Potash & Perlmutter's the previous afternoon. From the right-hand waistcoat pocket he took a red-banded invincible and handed it to Abe. "Have a smoke, Mr. Potash?" he said. Abe examined the cigar closely and tucked it carefully away.
"Waiter," Abe called, "put this here gentleman's check on mine and bring us two of them thirty-cent cigars." So eagerly did Morris await the advent of Uncle Mosha Kronberg in Potash & Perlmutter's store that he even omitted to notice his partner's prolonged absence at lunch; and when Abe returned to unfold the narrative of his meeting with a prospective customer Morris heard it without interest.
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