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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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The Gaza hostage crisis could forever change how American Jews relate to Israel — but it’s not too late to fix that
In the aftermath of the deadly terror attack at a Hanukkah party on Australia’s Bondi Beach, Jews who have watched the global surge in antisemitism with growing dread are once again considering the need to seek refuge in the Jewish state.
It’s a conclusion many native Israelis find bewildering. Oct. 7 and everything that followed has left them feeling deeply abandoned by a government they no longer trust to protect – or rescue – them. In the past two years, they are quick to note, more Jewish lives have been lost in Israel than anywhere else in the world. This disconnect over Jewish safety was shaped in no small part by the 251 men, women, and children taken hostage on Oct. 7 — and, perhaps even more profoundly, by the long, agonizing struggle to bring them back.
What began as a unified call to “Bring Them Home” soon split into two very different narratives. In Israel, public consensus collapsed as families increasingly blamed the government for sacrificing their loved ones on the altar of political survival, creating rifts that would eventually splinter not only the hostage movement but Israeli society itself.
In the United States, that dynamic played out very differently. Amidst rising hostilities coming from outside the Jewish community and deepening divisions forming within, the hostage rallies remained a source of solidarity, a respite from conflict rather than the source. But it also left many with a distorted view of events, further widening the already-existing gap between how American Jews relate to Israel and how Israelis understand themselves.
Few people are better positioned to explain that gap than one of the people who helped create it. Israeli-born Shany Granot-Lubaton is a longtime pro-democracy activist. After moving to New York City three years ago, she led protests there against the Israeli government’s 2023 judicial overhaul. On Oct. 7, Granot-Lubaton pivoted abruptly to hostage advocacy, eventually co-founding the American version of Israel’s Hostages and Missing Families Forum.
“Right away, I understood we would need a different approach from the way we spoke during the judicial overhaul protests,” Granot-Lubaton told the Forward. Her first priority, she said, was honoring the wishes of the families themselves. While far from a monolith, the majority believed messaging outside Israel should avoid overt confrontation with the government, even as some of those same family members were among its fiercest critics at home.
One of them was Udi Goren, whose cousin Tal Haimi was killed defending Kibbutz Nir Yitzhak on Oct. 7, his body abducted to Gaza. In Israel, Goren became one of the most active figures in the struggle, managing the Forum’s Knesset operations and confronting lawmakers directly. However, he fully supported taking a more restrained approach abroad.
“An effective public campaign is about leverage,” Goren said, in an interview with the Forward. “I didn’t see how attacking the Israeli government in the U.S. would motivate anyone with power to secure a deal to do it faster.”
With American politics becoming more polarized and the prospect of a second Trump term looming, the goal was to keep the tent wide and bipartisan — without completely absolving Netanyahu of responsibility.
“It was a fine line,” Granot-Lubaton recalled. “At every rally, we made sure to say — from the stage — that the Israeli government must do everything they can to bring them home. But we didn’t want to delve too deeply into accusations.”
There were other challenges as well. An open-tent structure inevitably included voices whose priorities did not fully align with the organizers’ carefully calibrated messaging. This included a new crop of influencers who positioned themselves as champions of the hostage cause, filling their feeds with “on-the-ground reporting” from rallies, vigils, and reunions. But their content also reflected personal worldviews and financial interests, dictating which parts of the story were amplified and which were left out. While some managed to remain politically neutral, others co-opted the cause to advance their own agendas.
For Goren, those tensions mattered less than the mission. Anyone advocating for the hostages was an ally — with one red line. “If you’re using this to spread Islamophobia or hatred against Arabs, you’re damaging the cause,” he said. “But beyond that, even if you were very conservative or right-wing — as long as your priority was bringing the hostages home — then for this campaign, you and I were in the same camp.”
The approach appeared to have worked. In the United States and across much of the diaspora, the hostage campaign remained unified.
But when Granot-Lubaton moved back to Israel with her family in 2024, she came face to face with a very different reality. Unlike the apolitical movement she and others had carefully cultivated back in the States, here the hostage struggle had become deeply politicized. Netanyahu and his allies, aided by sympathetic media outlets and an ideologically entrenched base, managed to paint the Bring Them Home campaign as a “leftist” project.
Families were forcibly removed from Knesset meetings, publicly attacked and delegitimized by ministers, harassed online and confronted in the streets; some were manhandled by police or even arrested. Conspiracy theories proliferated — including claims that some families were paid agents of the anti-government movement. In one particularly bizarre case, rumors circulated that hostage Matan Zangauker was not in captivity, but hiding out in Egypt.
On Oct. 13, 2025, the infighting briefly gave way to collective joy, as Israel welcomed home the last 20 living hostages. But the unity did not last. Before the hostages had even been released from the hospital, they and their families came under renewed vitriol — criticized for speaking against Netanyahu, for failing to sufficiently praise the IDF, and for asking the public for financial assistance.
It was a bitter twist of irony. The same acts that had come to symbolize anti-Israel extremism abroad — tearing down hostage posters, accusing hostages of lying — were now being carried out by Israelis themselves. And yet, so much of that derision has remained largely unacknowledged outside of Israel.
While Hamas is still holding the body of Master Sgt. Ran Gvili, the official campaign is over. Hostage Square has been dismantled. The Forum has shuttered its Tel Aviv headquarters and ended the weekly rallies. Goren, finally able to bury his beloved cousin, and Granot-Lubaton, now resettled in Israel, have begun new chapters in their lives.
Both stand by the strategy that shaped the movement abroad — but agree that what comes next must look different. The version of Israel that proved effective in mobilizing support overseas during the crisis now risks reinforcing a status quo many inside the country are fighting to change. And they are asking the same communities that rallied so powerfully for the hostages to engage just as seriously with the struggle over Israel’s future.
For Goren, that means pushing progressive Jews past their long-standing reluctance to “get their hands dirty” with Israeli politics. “Conservative and right-wing American Jews don’t hesitate for a second to get involved,” he asserted. “They get close to the government and the people in power. And they put their money where their mouth is.” He points to the Kohelet Policy Forum, whose American donors helped drive the judicial overhaul in Israel. “These are people that never lived in Israel a day in their lives, pushing the country towards a judicial coup,” he said. “We cannot afford to have Jews who care about Israeli democracy sit this one out.”
Granot-Lubaton shares the urgency, albeit with added empathy. “I don’t judge anyone who is uncomfortable speaking out loudly right now,” she noted. “You don’t need to be protesting in the streets. But you have to educate yourself. You have to talk to one another. Reach out to people who understand what’s happening here, invite them to speak in your synagogues.”
Responsibility, she added, cuts both ways. Israel’s pro-democracy movement must do more to meet American Jews where they are. “It’s not just translating content into English,” she said. “It’s understanding what Jewish communities are experiencing — and why challenging Israel feels so risky.”
But she categorically rejects the idea that Zionism and criticism are at odds. “I chose to come back and raise my children here,” she said. “Clearly I believe in this place. But the only way we can truly flourish is if we’re honest about what we’ve done and what we’re doing. I hope American Jews will join that movement. Unconditional love and support are no longer enough.”
The post The Gaza hostage crisis could forever change how American Jews relate to Israel — but it’s not too late to fix that appeared first on The Forward.
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VIDEO: Historian Vivi Laks tells history of the London Yiddish Press
די ייִדיש־ליגע האָט לעצטנס אַרויפֿגעשטעלט אַ ווידעאָ, וווּ די היסטאָריקערין וויווי לאַקס דערציילט וועגן דער אַמאָליקער ייִדישער פּרעסע אין לאָנדאָן.
צווישן 1884 און 1954 האָט די לאָנדאָנער פּרעסע אַרויסגעגעבן הונדערטער פֿעליעטאָנען פֿון אָרטיקע שרײַבערס וועגן אָרטיקן ייִדישן לעבן.
די קורצע דערציילונגען זענען סאַטיריש, קאָמיש און רירנדיק, אויף טשיקאַווע טעמעס ווי למשל קאַמפֿן אין דער היים צווישן די מינים; פּאָליטיק אין די קאַפֿעען, און ספֿרי־תּורה אויף די גאַסן. די דערציילונגען האָבן געשריבן סײַ גוט באַקאַנטע שרײַבער (למשל, מאָריס ווינטשעווסקי, יוסף־חיים ברענער און אסתּר קרייטמאַן), סײַ היפּש ווייניקער באַקאַנטע.
שבֿע צוקער, די ייִדיש־לערערין און מחבר פֿון אַ ייִדישן לערנבוך, פֿירט דעם שמועס מיט וויווי לאַקס. זיי וועלן פֿאָרלייענען אַ טייל פֿון די פֿעליעטאָנען אויף ענגליש און ייִדיש, און אַרומרעדן די טעמעס וואָס די פּרעסע האָט אַרויסגעהויבן.
וויווי לאַקס איז אַ היסטאָריקערין פֿון לאָנדאָנס ייִדישן „איסט־ענד“, ווי אויך אַן איבערזעצער און זינגערין. זי איז די מחברטע פֿון Whitechapel Noise און London Yiddishtown, ווי אויך אַקאַדעמישע און פּאָפּולערע אַרטיקלען. זי איז אַ קולטור־טוערין אין לאָנדאָן און האָט מיטאָרגאַניזירט סײַ דעם גרויסן ייִדישן פּאַראַד, סײַ דעם Yiddish Café Trust. זי זינגט פּאָפּולערע לידער אויפֿן „קאָקני־ייִדיש“ מיט די גרופּעס קלעזמער־קלאָב און קאַטשאַנעס, און פֿירט שפּאַצירטורן איבער דעם „איסט־ענד“.
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Puppet Monty Pickle is guest on the Forward’s ‘Yiddish Word of the Day’
It’s not every day that a kosher dill pickle puppet gets a chance to learn some Yiddish.
Monty Pickle, star of the children’s series The Monty Pickle Show, recently joined Rukhl Schaechter, host of the Forward’s YouTube series Yiddish Word of the Day, for an episode teaching viewers the Yiddish words for various wild animals.
Or as they’re called in Yiddish: vilde khayes.
The Monty Pickle Show, a puppet comedy on YouTube and TikTok, aims to show young viewers what it means to be Jewish in a fun, lively way. The series was created by the Emmy Award-winning producers of Sesame Street and Fraggle Rock.
So far, he’s met a number of Jewish personalities, including rabbis, musicians and chefs, and explored holidays like Rosh Hashanah, Hanukkah and Passover.
Sitting alongside Rukhl during the lesson, Monty eagerly tries to guess what each word means, providing for some very funny moments.
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