No. 32164

When the Nazis invaded Poland, they took over Leon Jolson's prosperous sewing-machine business, tattooed No. 32164 on his left arm and threw him into a concentration camp. The end of the war found Jolson still alive, but the Russians were in Poland, and Jolson found them no better than the Nazis. He escaped to the U.S. zone in Germany, and in 1947 went to New York. He had $6 in his pocket and spoke no English. But he knew all about sewing machines.

Working 16 hours a day in a small rented shop, he made a modest living repairing and selling secondhand machines. As his business increased, he borrowed $2,000 from the United Service for New Americans and imported four sewing machines from Italy's Necchi (rhymes with Becky) Sewing Machine Co., with which he had done business in Poland. The machines could make buttonholes, sew on buttons, embroider, etc. without any attachments, tricks most other machines could not do.

The Necchi caught on fast, though it costs from $25 to $60 more than a Singer. To get more capital, Jolson took in two partners and expanded his sales all over the U.S. By last week the company owned a twelve-story New York building, was advertising to the tune of a million dollars a year, and had 1,630 U.S. dealers and a subsidiary in Canada. By the end of this year it expects to sell more than 50,000 Necchi machines, gross $10 million and have a firm grip on 10% of the sewing-machine market.

This week Leon Jolson had something more to celebrate: he became a U.S. citizen. In gratitude, he gave $10,000 to Columbia University's Teachers College for fellowships for other refugees.

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