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Steven Salen, a tailor who survived the Holocaust and dressed presidents, dies at 103
NEW YORK — (JTA) — Nothing riled Steven Salen like a powerful man in a bad suit.
“‘That suit fits terribly!’” his daughter Elayne Landau recalled him as yelling at the TV, multiple times. “‘How’s he going to get elected? Elayne, send him a letter.’ He would dictate the letter. ‘I’m watching you on television. That suit fits horribly. You really look like you’re one-sided. Come see me!’
Sometimes, Landau recalled in an interview, she would even send the letter. And a couple of times there was a polite and friendly reply.
Salen, 103, died on Nov. 23 at a hospital in Manhasset, New York. He was a Holocaust survivor, a savvy war-era black marketeer, and then once landing New York, he built up a reputation as an outfitter — a “bespoke tailor,” as his family put it — to the powerful and influential, working until he was 95.
Salen loved talking about the opportunities this country gave him, but like many survivors, he didn’t begin to open up about the horrors he witnessed and suffered until late in his life — in his case, in his 90s.
He enjoyed regaling his children and grandchildren about his clients and what he designed to make them look good, recalled his granddaughter, Rachel Landau Fisher. One time, he saw an old photo of a man on a tarmac in a trim gray overcoat. Salen said he had made the coat.
The photo was of President Richard Nixon shaking hands with Chinese premier Zhou Enlai in Beijing, the launch of a history-shaking visit that thawed U.S.-China ties.
President Richard Nixon shaking hands with Chou EnLai while wearing a coat that Steven Salen told his family he’d made, Feb. 21, 1972. (U.S. National Archives)
“His grandchildren, Jake, Sofia, Rachel and Sam enjoyed his many stories, including a favorite of a Mafia client walking in on FBI Director J. Edgar Hoover in his underwear during a fitting,” his granddaughter, Landau Fisher, wrote in a remembrance.
At his home in Bayside, Queens, he kept mementos of his career: Handwritten entries in ledgers spanning decades, including names like Nixon, and his secretary of state, Henry Kissinger. A framed 1980 check from former President Gerald Ford for $3,170. Gerald Ford tie clips. A hardcover and pristine copy of Kissinger’s remembrance, “White House Years,” with an inscription, “To Steve Salen, who makes me look almost presentable.” A client list from 2000 that includes names like Hearst and Scorcese.
“Martin Scorsese was one of his last clients,” Elayne Landau said of the film director. “So was Harvey Keitel.”
Salen was an old-school, word-of-mouth tailor who started working at FL Dunn on Fifth Avenue in New York, and eventually had his own full-floor atelier on Madison Avenue and 53rd Street, at the heart of the city’s high-fashion district.
In 2011, when Salen already topped 90, the New York style blog “The Trad” profiled his shop. It began, “Back in the ’50s, there were 300-400 bespoke tailors in NYC. Today — there might be 30.”
“They don’t have a web site. They sure as hell don’t have any marketing savvy. Steven can’t even figure out his phone. But they can build you a suit. In fact, they build suits for a lotta shops in NYC who claim to build their own,” the blog reported. “You get chalked up. And then what? Where does your suit go? China? Mexico? Turkey? Or, to the 11th floor of an office building in midtown Manhattan.” (“It ain’t cheap,” the blogger advises.)
Occasionally Salen would pop up in an aside in an article about the rarefied occupants of New York’s social stratosphere, as when the New York Times Magazine profiled antiquarians Leigh and Leslie Keno in 1986 (they are now famed as appraisers on PBS’s “Antiques Road Show”).
“After years of searching for the perfect tailor, they finally found one they feel meets their specifications, a man named Steven Salen,” the Times said. “He passed the brothers’ acid test for tailors by spotting immediately that each twin has an arm that’s a quarter of an inch longer than the other.”
Steve Salen at his granddaughter Rachel Landau’s wedding in 2020. (Family)
Salen would not tell his children about his life before his arrival in the United States unless he had to explain the marks his suffering had left on his body.
“He told the story of how, to his amazement, he twisted off his frozen toes and didn’t even feel it,” Elayne Landau wrote in a eulogy, describing the time her father spent on the Russian front as a slave of the Nazi war machine. “We had seen his feet, you see, so he had to say something about that.”
“He was a Holocaust survivor, but as much as that experience shaped who he was, he did not want to be defined by it,” she wrote. “I understood this because growing up in a community of refugees, we didn’t ask these questions and for the most part, people didn’t offer. People needed to move on.”
He worked ceaselessly, Landau said in the interview. “I remember on Sundays we used to go to Schwartzbaum, which was a woolen shop on the Lower East Side on Delancey street to buy cloth, so this was a seven-day-a-week thing for him,” she said.
And then, in his 90s he began to open up, and Elayne Landau saw an opportunity to get close to the father who spent her childhood working.
“He remarked frequently that he can’t believe he made it,” she wrote in her eulogy. “And he began to want to talk about it. Sadly, by this time, well into his 90s, he could not recall many specifics. But with the help of the few reminiscences that I’d written down through the years, Rachel and I were able to piece together the outlines of his story.”
He was born Zoltan Salomon in Nelipyno, Czechoslovakia in 1919. In 1939, in what he would later describe as some of the best years of his life, he was learning tailoring at a trade school run by the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee.
Then the Nazis arrived and they deported Salen. He never saw his parents or seven of his 11 siblings again. Russians liberated him in 1943. “He told me how the Russian soldiers gave the Jews guns to shoot their German captors,” Elayne Landau recalled. “He said some people did.”
He joined the Czechoslovakian army and became a supply sergeant, which required sharp business skills to negotiate the black market. A fellow black marketeer had a cousin, Frantisca, who was 18; she and Salen were married within three weeks. They arrived in New York in 1949, and Salen landed a job as a tailor almost immediately.
His wife, who took the American name Frances, predeceased him, and so did his son, Jeff, a founder of the seminal 1970s punk band, Tuff Darts, who died of a heart attack in 2008. He is survived by his daughter, Elayne, son-in-law Matthew Landau, daughter-in-law Diana Salen and his four grandchildren.
“He really wanted to be defined by his American life,” Elayne Landau said. “He was so grateful for being here you could never say anything bad about against America.”
His granddaughter, Rachel Landau Fisher, said he and her grandmother drew slightly different pleasures from their American experience.
“He and his wife were most honored to have tea with First Lady Betty Ford after fitting the president at the White House,” she said. “His happiest place was at a poker table in the Catskills’ Concord Hotel.”
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The post Steven Salen, a tailor who survived the Holocaust and dressed presidents, dies at 103 appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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I Came to Israel for Clarity and Left with More Questions (How Jewish)
The Western Wall and Temple Mount in Jerusalem. Photo: Wikimedia Commons.
I arrived in Israel as part of the Birthright Israel Onward Storytellers Program, with a dynamic group of creators from across the globe intent on gaining perspective on the region.
Many people in my group were short-form enthusiasts, but I repeatedly insisted on the power of long-form storytelling. So here are some long-form thoughts on my experience:
While Israelis wear their resilience on their sleeves, I was struck by the psychological weight they’ve gained since Oct 7.
When I learned that the word grief in Hebrew was “evel,” I asked if it was linked to the word “even,” which means rock. A native speaker was surprised by this question, but couldn’t refute the connection.
Coincidences in the Holy Land often feel like Divine signs. Maybe they are.
On our first day, while walking through the Old City in Jerusalem, I lost the Hamsa pendant I bought on my last visit; it slipped right off my neck.
My first sign!
That pendant was now burrowed in the pocket of cobblestone streets older than the prophets. What literal symbol would I replace it with?
After a tear-soaked visit to the Kotel, where I jammed a wish-filled note in the cracks of the ancient wall, we visited the Temple Mount, a jarring surprise to our group to even be allowed in.
At one of the holiest places in Jewish and Muslim culture, I was not moved by the archeological marvel, but by the human connection — in the thoughtful dialogue I began with our Palestinian tour guide, in an effort to understand his experience.
It was not lost on me that we were a living bridge of peace, in the most contentious location between our cultures. I doubt it was lost on him either.
We hugged goodbye later that day, and wished each other well, speaking to the individual but praying for our collectives.
The next day we visited the harrowing sites of the Oct. 7 massacres at the Nova festival and Kibbutz Nir Oz. I was surprised at how unsurprised I was, scarred by the gutting imagery that the attack had become sadly associated with.
We then went to the great expanse of the Negev Desert, with its Grand Canyon-like Godliness. We spoke to our creator in the darkness of the night, looking for more answers — but, again, I was left with more questions.
The signs were unclear and I was getting frustrated.
We then came to Tel Aviv, a city that always feels just right with its bustling multi-culturalism, charming architecture, undeniable food, and endless gorgeous faces.
I could live here, I thought. With the state of the world, maybe sooner rather than later.
I thrived on my own, with long walks away from the group, sipping delicious coffee and reaffirming why I love this country so much. The solitude energized my urge to make the world understand what Israel really is. How they would see if they only came here for themselves!
But we cannot make people see what they don’t want to see. We can only lead by example and hope that our changes inspire them, or at the very least, confront them.
Our meaningful journey, carefully curated by Yael Adventures, was coming to an end.
I left this chapter of my trip inspired by a group of young leaders expressing their values online to move hearts and minds through food, fashion, humor, and culture.
The odds are against us.
As I told them, my family is Israeli, so I have no choice but to be an outspoken advocate. The others have a harder choice, one that their peers reject violently and without nuance. And yet they choose to stand with Jewish pride in the land we are told we don’t deserve, but relentlessly reminded why we need.
I am grateful to this group for teaching me so much about their stories and about my own. Among them, I even made some true friends, a task that gets increasingly harder in a world saturated with false idols and inauthentic lives.
After the organized trip, I visited my family in the North, the only extended family I have. As we sat down for Shabbat dinner, I felt the feeling of home that people often describe when their tribe is together. When you live across the world from yours, a puzzle piece of your soul reattaches for even the shortest reconnection.
The next day, on a walk with my cousin, I ran into a childhood friend. I had met him on my family’s sabbatical in Israel when I was 12 years old. He no longer lived in the village, but happened to be visiting the same day as me, walking the same trail at the same time.
Another sign.
I had lived there at an age where life events are consequential to our personalities and trajectory. It reminded me of the confidence this place instilled in me, which has carried me throughout my life. If nothing else, I owe it to these people for the confidence they gave me — to remind them of how special they truly are, regardless of what the rest of the world thinks. To lighten the load of the “even” from the “evel.”
I visited my Father’s grave, a beautiful stone structure built for only the most epic of men. He rests exactly where he belongs, overlooking the land of his forefathers, beside his fellow countrymen.
His tombstone is labeled “Professor.” I questioned what identity I would want written on my own. I didn’t have an answer.
As a multi-hyphenate, I don’t do well with labels, or perhaps have yet to land on my own personal definition.
The trip ended with a cherished day of filming for my upcoming movie, continuing the long journey to tell a story I can’t wait to share with you all. It turns out that it doesn’t matter where I am in the world — if I’m making art on my own terms, I come alive.
This sign couldn’t be clearer.
It would be borderline blasphemous to not acknowledge the Divinity of using my God-given gifts in my ancestral homeland.
Perhaps I was right to be in this cohort after all. A true “hero’s journey,” I came back home changed, and armed with fresh perspective and new tools to do what I do best — tell stories. I guess I don’t need a new pendant for that.
No matter your background, I hope you’ll visit Israel and see it for yourself someday. It may not have all your answers, but, like me, it may leave you with new questions to explore.
And if you don’t, that’s OK too. I’ll be back again very soon, and eat enough Shawarma for the both of us.
Ari Frenkel is an actor, writer and filmmaker. He is known for his on-screen work in Amazon’s I’m A Virgo, HBO’s Silicon Valley, FX’s American Crime Story, and much more. He is the creator and star of the award-winning digital series Sorry, Ari. He is currently in production for his debut feature film, See You on the Other Side. Visit his Instagram, and website.
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Phase Two Begins: Will Hamas Uphold Its Ceasefire Commitments?
People walk past a billboard portraying the late Hamas leader Yahya Sinwar at the site of a rally held by protesters, mainly Houthi supporters, to show support to Lebanon’s Hezbollah and Palestinians in the Gaza Strip, in Sanaa, Yemen, Oct. 18, 2024. Photo: REUTERS/Khaled Abdullah
The United States has announced that the second phase of the ceasefire agreement between Israel and Hamas has now begun. While officials worry that not moving on to the second stage could encourage renewed fighting, the movement towards the second phase has also been met with trepidation from the Israeli perspective.
Notably, Hamas has yet to uphold its end of the agreement, consistently violating the ceasefire since its implementation by launching attacks on Israeli soldiers, crossing the yellow line into territory controlled by the IDF, and not returning all hostages within the first 72 hours of the agreement.
While all hostages, both living and deceased, were meant to return home 72 hours after the initial agreement was signed, Hamas has consistently delayed releases or indulged in misdirection and cover-ups. As phase two begins, the body of Ran Gvili, the final hostage being unlawfully held in Gaza, has yet to return home. It raises serious doubts about the extent to which the terrorist organization can be trusted to honor its commitments.
What Does Phase Two Entail?
The second phase of the ceasefire is meant to establish a transitional technocratic Palestinian administration in Gaza, known as the National Committee for the Administration of Gaza (NCAG). It will also begin the full demilitarization and reconstruction of Gaza, focusing specifically on the disarmament of all unauthorized personnel, such as Hamas and Islamic Jihad.
While Hamas is now supposedly signaling willingness to disarm, it has in the past made it explicitly clear that it is not interested in disarming until there is a clear process that will result in the establishment of a Palestinian state, least of all if Israel is still present in the Gaza Strip. Yet this requirement for disarmament must be met at this stage for Israel to continue its withdrawal.
Since the beginning of phase one, the IDF has been working tirelessly on the demilitarization of Gaza. Yet areas beyond the yellow line — the area of withdrawal controlled by the IDF — remain far from clear of terrorist infrastructure, as the IDF continues to uncover more tunnel systems.
All of these key components of the second phase need to work in synchronization. Hamas’ military grip on the Gaza Strip currently puts the terrorist organization in a position of de facto governance. If it relinquishes its military powers by disarming, it will create the possibility for the NCAG force to begin administering the civilians there.
The NCAG is meant to be an apolitical body overseeing daily life in Gaza. In this capacity, it could help support stabilization efforts, reduce the influence of terrorist organizations, and create space for long-term initiatives focused on education, reconstruction, and economic opportunity — key elements in fostering a more sustainable future. Additionally, the International Stabilization Force (ISF) will also be implemented at this stage to help establish and support a police force, allowing for further Israeli withdrawal.
The successful implementation of the second phase lays the groundwork for a stable and functional civilian administration in Gaza. Thus, this phase is not only about immediate security and withdrawal, but rather about building the institutional foundations necessary to ensure a stable future in post-war Gaza.
A Reminder From Oslo
This is not the first time Israel has entered into agreements with the Palestinians, only to face challenges stemming from a lack of enforcement, limited accountability, and differing interests.
In 1993, Israelis and Palestinians were similarly excited about the process of moving towards a future free of terrorism, incitement, and hatred.
The Oslo Accords called for the Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO) to formally recognize the right of the State of Israel to exist. In contrast, Israel recognized the PLO as the representative of the Palestinian people. Over the course of five years, the two parties were meant to reach a formal and comprehensive agreement. However, no such agreement was ever reached between the parties, and the breakdown of the process was followed by the launch of the Second Intifada, during which weapons originally intended for Palestinian security forces were turned against Israel.
Perhaps one of the most important requirements from the Palestinian side of the Oslo Accords was a commitment to education reform, intended to promote tolerance within the Palestinian education system. A lack of enforcement meant that this crucial factor was never implemented.
As a result, the Palestinian education system has — to this day — been one that indoctrinates Palestinian children with a vehement hatred of the State of Israel and the Jewish people, and calls on children to become martyrs by committing terrorist attacks. This means that the terrorists who committed the atrocities of October 7, 2023, grew up using textbooks that glorified terrorism after the fallout from Oslo.
While the world and the media may be ready to move on to phase two, it is crucial that Israel ensures the other side are held to their obligations. The aftermath of the Oslo Accords illustrates the consequences of failing to uphold commitments. The repeated disregard of terrorist organizations’ negotiated commitments ultimately undermined long-term stability. The current phase in Gaza presents a similar crossroads. Without careful oversight and accountability, a history of broken commitments and renewed violence could repeat itself.
The author is a contributor to HonestReporting, a Jerusalem-based media watchdog with a focus on antisemitism and anti-Israel bias — where a version of this article first appeared.
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What Happens Next for the US and Iran?
Iran’s Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei speaks during a meeting in Tehran, Iran, January 17, 2026. Office of the Iranian Supreme Leader/WANA (West Asia News Agency)/Handout via REUTERS
Having warned Iran’s regime, repeatedly and explicitly, not to brutalize its own people, President Trump now must figure out how to uphold his red line, avoid losing credibility, and impose serious costs on the regime — all without triggering a wider conflict.
Revolutionary regimes like the Islamic Republic try to delegitimize and deflect popular discontent by pinning it on external enemies. Although Trump has spoken out about the protests, Tehran ignored the Biden team’s glaring silence and still blamed America for the “Woman, Life, Freedom” movement just a few years ago.
It is therefore no surprise that the speaker of Iran’s parliament has said the country is already in a new round of conflict with America and Israel. Iranian officials also have threatened to attack US regional bases, including preemptively.
Even if the country’s recent nationwide protests have subsided for now, Iran’s regime is fundamentally both unable and unwilling to address the deep-rooted grievances underlying such widespread and steadily worsening internal discontent.
It is strictly a question of when — not if — major unrest returns, and with it, the regime’s enduring instinct and temptation to project its problems outward onto the “Big” and “Little” Satans of America and Israel. Brinkmanship also offers the regime hope of deterring military action during the moments of domestic crisis when its future is most in doubt.
There are plenty of salutary sanctions, cyberwarfare tools, and covert and kinetic options to support protestors, inhibit further crackdowns, and encourage the regime’s ultimate collapse.
By themselves, however, these options are unable to keep Iran from threatening or unleashing massive retaliation against US targets in the process.
A key element of President Trump’s response, and one that fulfills his promise of “hitting them very, very hard where it hurts,” should be to target the regime’s best retaliatory capabilities.
This means its short-range ballistic and cruise missiles, drones, missile boat swarms, anti-ship missiles, and mobile coastal batteries looming over the Gulf, Iraq, and American forces there. By combining mass with precision, the weapons are Iran’s readiest option to counter US threats against its internal security apparatus.
These capabilities were left untouched during the June war, when the United States and Israel focused on nuclear sites and longer-range ballistic missiles. They do not require the time-consuming loading and fueling of those longer-range missiles, and their flight times are shorter.
These short-range projectiles can be launched in large “bolt from the blue” attacks with little early warning, and in great quantities, that strain US-led defenses in the region. Unlike some of its other arsenals, Iran has dangerous incentives to strike first, fast, and hard with these weapons.
Moreover, this Iran weapons program would have an attractive array of high-value targets. American forces cluster in a small handful of bases and warships in the Gulf, adjacent to major energy terminals and the world’s most important energy shipping point in the narrow Strait of Hormuz. These sites do not have anything remotely like Israel’s air and missile shield, a concern reflected in recent comments from senior US military officials about needing time to prepare regional defenses.
Iran’s past attacks with these weapons reliably hit their aimpoints. Most memorably, Iran launched a surprise cruise missile and drone swarm against Saudi energy facilities in 2019, and a ballistic missile barrage against US forces in Iraq several months later.
Even though it chose to telegraph its missile strike on Al-Udeid airbase in Qatar last year, American troops had to evacuate in advance, given their lack of adequate defenses. Both during and since the June conflict, Iran has prepared attacks and conducted military exercises to target US forces and energy shipping around Hormuz.
Iran also knows from past practice that threatening such attacks can generate pressure on America from its Gulf partners, all of whom want to deescalate tensions that could otherwise shoot oil prices upward and jeopardize their ambitious, but vulnerable, economic development projects.
Iran’s regime should know its short-range weapons are central to the strike options being readied for President Trump’s consideration. America’s commander-in-chief should make painfully and explicitly clear that Tehran cannot escalate its way out of its predicament — at home or abroad.
Jonathan Ruhe is the Fellow for American Strategy at the Jewish Institute for National Security of America.