Steve Farmer still laughs when he remembers the bellbottoms.
Call it a business misstep, of sorts, he said, that turned into a money maker for a man who rarely did the former – and was definitely known for the latter.
“Well, you have to know Saul Radman,” he said, referring to Morgantown’s legendary hometown haberdasher who died last week.
Radman was the comically, cranky proprietor of Daniel’s.
That was the name of the iconic men’s fashion store that was at fixture on High Street for 50 years before Saul moved it to Suncrest, where it remains in business today.
If you’re a guy of a certain vintage who went to WVU, it was likely Saul who sold you your first serious suit, and on credit, for that all-important job interview.
“Hey,” as Saul himself was fond of saying, “a good suit will get you places.”
Actually, it was two suits, two dress shirts, four neckties and a good pair of shoes, Farmer said, and all on the exclusive Daniel’s “charge” card.
University President Emeritus David Hardesty had a Daniel’s account when he was a student.
So did Jim Braxton, the football standout for the Mountaineers, who, in those ancient, pre-NIL days, went on to block for O.J. Simpson in the NFL.
“That was Saul’s way,” said Farmer, a Charleston attorney whose late dad, Morgantown attorney George Farmer, secured the loan that put Saul and his brother Daniel, in business.
They named the store for Daniel, on the spot.
“Saul knew a lot of kids needed help getting started,” Farmer, the younger said, related to that equally legendary line of credit.
“Saul had faith in his customers that they would be good on their credit,” he said. “And they were.”
Measure of service
Saul and Daniel picked that up early on back in Uniontown, Pa., where their dad and mom, Sam and Sarah, settled after sailing the Atlantic for their American dream in 1923.
They were Russian Jews who didn’t speak one word of English when they arrived.
Sam, though, was fluent in hard work. He founded a workingman’s store, “on the other side of the tracks” in Uniontown.
The patriarch’s customers were laborers and miners: Guys who busted it and got their hands dirty.
Guys whose paychecks didn’t always reflect the heart and muscle they showed when they punched in for their full measure of work.
Sam knew they needed the heavy coveralls and work gloves, and if he had to wait two weeks or a month or more for full payment, well, that’s just what he did.
Because they were all toiling together.
As a junior high student, Saul’s day started at 5 a.m. at the store.
He helped his dad get set up for the day, then he hopped the bus for his lessons at school.
When a guy with a notebook asked him about lessons, as in the kind that may have been imparted by his dad, Saul gave snort and grin.
“What I did I ‘learn?’ I didn’t learn anything. I was too busy running, trying to keep up with him.”
Bubby settles up
Harry Grandon, the now-retired manager of Morgantown Mall, still remembers his first suit from Daniel’s
He’s a Charleston native who came to WVU for school, with fraternity life factoring in heavily. Sometimes, a guy has to dress up, you know?
“Saul hired me for a summer job,” Grandon recalled, and he needed a suit.
“I remember it was three-piece Herringbone, with wingtips and the whole bit. Pretty sharp.”
And, as he said, all bought on credit.
On one memorable day, the aforementioned Braxton, a lighthearted guy when he wasn’t on the football field who answered to his childhood nickname, “Bubby” – bounded in like a pulling guard, directly making for the diminutive Radman.
The 6-foot-1, 250-pound Braxton wrapped Radman in a bear hug while managing to write a check at the same time.
He had just signed with the Buffalo Bills – and took the occasion to pay off the balance of his Daniel’s account.
Grandon’s career in retail management took him from Morgantown to Minnesota, Texas, New Mexico and Pennsylvania, before he boomeranged back to the University City in the 1990s, for the mall job here.
He immediately picked up again at Daniel’s, like he’d never left.
“Saul was a good dude,” he said.
In later years, after they both retired, they’d still meet up at Ruby and Ketchy’s, the Cheat Lake eatery where Saul, a regular, always had seat at the counter for breakfast.
A good neighbor, in good fashion (and check out the workpants)
Farmer, meanwhile, liked that Saul always had a place at the counter in the community of Morgantown. So did his family.
Saul’s sister, Hilda Rosenbaum, founded Rosenbaum Family House, which provides free lodging for the families of patients undergoing extensive medical treatment here.
The attorney also likes that Saul contributed to community causes – anonymously, more often than not.
“Morgantown’s gonna miss Saul,” he said.
The merchant wanted his passing to be anonymous, also.
No service, no obituary, though friends did gather at his house last weekend to laugh and tell a Saul story, or several.
His philosophy? Timeless classic looks are that way for a reason.
On that, he was unwavering.
Well, there was one time he got tripped up by disco, Farmer said, chuckling. Those pants. The bellbottoms.
It was the late 1970s. “Saturday Night Fever” was still a thing, and guys were shopping for the John Travolta suit – specifically the white suit worn by the actor in all those dance scenes.
“So, Saul goes on one of his buying trips to New York and comes back, with, I bet, 200 dozen pants with these giant, flared legs,” recalled Farmer, who was also working there part-time.
Said pants started out at $39.95 – and ended up at $4.95.
Guys quit buying.
However, there was a happy retail ending to it all.
Saul’s disco deal – went for a steal.
Call it a sequel to Sam and Uniontown.
“He sold them as work pants,” Farmer said.
“He stacked them on a table, in front of the store on the sidewalk. He eventually sold every pair. Every pair.”
When the last pair was folded up and handed to a customer, in fact, Saul didn’t dance, but he did give another snorting chuckle – even if he was all mock-gruff.
“Well, that’s how you do that,” he said.
