The Grand Dames of Recycling

In this spirit of national women’s history month—March—here’s an honorary look at some of the recycling industry’s female pioneers. 

By Jeff Borsecnik

Jeff Borsecnik is as associate editor of Scrap Processing and Recycling.

Behind those wagon-driving scrap peddlers of the early days, many of whose progeny are today's recycling industry executives, were plenty of women who helped build the family businesses--often on top of full--time jobs as wives and mothers. Here are some memories of a few of these women, who long brightened and broadened the industry.

A Ma and Pa Operation

Louis Padnos Iron & Metal Co. ( Holland , Mich. ) is a big player today, but the company was born around 1920 as a true ma-and-pa operation. "Ma," Helen Padnos, was a major contributor, handling cash transactions and bookkeeping as Louis went on the road.

Helen also took over completely when Louis suffered a serious illness in 1929. "She didn't physically do the work, but she told everyone what to do--and she still managed to have a family and keep a home, and all the rest of it," says her son, Seymour Padnos, who eventually took over his mother's responsibilities at the company after he graduated from college and today heads the firm.

Helen, who was from a family of scholars, was a practical woman but apparently a striking figure in the scrap business. "She was a beautiful woman, very handsome," notes Seymour . "I have to tell you that when my dad married my mom and brought her to Holland --he had been a bachelor for 15 years--it shook up the community!"

Helen's poise and presence provided an attractive selling point that often helped get Louis in the door, and her winning ways touched the workers as well. "They worshipped her," says Seymour . "She was an attractive and thoughtful person. Anything my mother asked them to do, they jumped over backward to do it."

Going It Alone

The story of Betsy Schulhofer, the matriarch of Schulhofer's Inc. ( Waynesville , N.C. ), is a little different.

Betsy built her business from scratch, beginning in the mid 1940s as a peddler. "I didn't have anything but a friend"--who lent her money--"and some good strong legs and a strong mind to start out with," she says. Bill Schulhofer Jr., who, along with brother Scotty, represents the third generation at the family company, says his grandmother's example has been a strong lesson to him. "She taught me what hard work was like and what it could accomplish. She didn't sit behind a desk. She was out there in the heat, in the rain, the snow."

Betsy's was a solo business for the first three years. Then her, husband, Jake, quit his job to join her. The business eventually grew, purchased equipment--a truck, then a shear, and a baler--and hired a small work force, including several other women. But Betsy was always in the thick of the work, and people would come to the yard just to see her at it. "But it would be hard to find me," she says, "because I'd be out there ' playin' ball with the men, doing what they were doing. I'd be on a tractor with a big ball breaking cast iron to certain dimensions. ... I had more fun than any woman, I guess."

Now retired, she misses the action. "I met people, went places, and the day was gone before I knew it"--lots of days, in fact, to the tune of about 38 years. "I made so many friends," says Betsy. "I loved my work and had a lot of fun. I still wouldn't feel I am more than 25 or 30 years old if it weren't for my legs," which are actually almost 77. "I'd like to be out there now doing it," she chimes.

A Lasting Light

Like Betsy, Martha Light started with nothing but a little help from some friends, establishing M. Light Metal Brokerage ( Jamaica , N.Y.) and a reputation for integrity. "In this business, sometimes we'd cut off each other's heads for a cent, but nobody wouldn't do the right thing for Martha Light," says Shelley Padnos, granddaughter of Helen Padnos, and, it seems, a bit of a scholar on the history of women in the scrap business.

Martha emigrated from Germany in 1938, losing everything, and landing in the United States was not easy. "I started as a cleaning woman," she says. "On the other side [ Germany ], I had a maid, here I made a maid. And in my first six hours I made $1."

She joined her brother's metal trading company in the early 1950s and worked for him for 6 ½ years. But he eventually laid her off because of poor business, so Martha went out on her own in 1959, brokering scrap copper, brass, and aluminum, as well as some new metal. And she's still at it today, at age 85.

When asked how men reacted to a woman broker early on, Martha says, "They were and still are wonderful to me—I have such good friends." She poses, then answers, her own question: "Why? Because I am honest, decent, and don't cheat anybody or don’t talk anybody into anything. My philosophy is not to push anyone. I give them prices and if they want to buy, then they do. I be honest, tell them what is going on, and I don’t steal anything.

The brokering business, especially exports, has changed a lot during Martha’s tenure. But Light still does business the old-fashioned, personal way, says Padnos’s Robert Stein. “Martha has always had the reputation of doing things the proper way. She’s first-class. She knows her suppliers very well personally and he customers,” he says. “She’s very well-respected, liked, and loved. She’s just like everybody’s grandmother.” And, he adds warmly, “She even sends my kids birthday cards.”

Pioneers Breaching Barriers

In 1930, Frances Brody, a relative of the founders of Alpert & Alpert Iron & Metal Inc. ( Los Angeles ), joined the then-young company as a bookkeeper. In 1983, she retired as a partner and president.

“It was very difficult at first,” recalls Frances of the early days. “For one thing, we started the business in the Depression. And for me, a woman in a man’s world, it wasn’t easy to be accepted. It was very difficult to break in, but eventually, I did. I blazed a trail for women’s lib, evidently.”

Alpert & Alpert was a company going places, and Brody was the right person in the right place at the tight time. “The company was very, very small and she participated in its growth fully,” says Ray Alpert, a second-generation company executive, citing as examples its early move into automobile shredding and the aluminum smelting business.

An early memory of Frances is of her first industry convention, at which she was denied access to a "men-only" meeting. But she stood her ground: "I said, 'No, this is a members-only meeting. If women are members, they are entitled to the same treatment as men."' She waited calmly for the door guard's boss and was granted access to the room. Once inside, she never had a problem being accepted by the men, which matches the way others accepted her, says Ray. "Both customers and employees were very supportive and considered her a friend."

Around the same time, several thousand miles east, was another pioneer, Rose Pashelinsky of M. Pashelinsky and Sons, now known as P.S.R. Corp. ( Jersey City , N. J.).

Rose, a striking, flamboyant character by all accounts, was one of the first women "to break the boys club barrier," attending "men-only" banquets at industry meetings, according to her brother, Bernard Pashelinsky. Rose had joined the company, which was a leader in the then relatively new business of nickel and high temperature alloys, around 1938 and became a trader and manager of its international business. She also served on various governmental panels related to the industry. Certainly, Rose could hold her own with the men.

Add to the mix the fact that Rose was tall and striking. "Boy did she dress!" recalls Seymour Padnos. "She wore the most stylish clothes--she wore short skirts when it was challenging--but she was tough, tough as nails." Shelley Padnos, who accompanied her father to industry meetings as child, came away with the impression that Rose was a character. "Rose Pashelinsky was extremely unique," says Shelley. "Unique enough that my father would point her out to me when I was 6 or 7."

Clearly she made an impression on many. "If there were 1,000 men at a convention, 99 percent knew Rose," says Bernard. "Everybody looked forward to seeing her there. She was a bellwether symbol. Rally 'round the flag, boys." People who did business with Rose, "even if 25 years have gone by since and they had only one transaction, will ask, 'Is Rose still with you?' She made an indelible impression on so many people. When they'd hear my name they'd ask, 'Are you Rose's brother? "'

Rose never retired--she died in 1985 "with her boots on," says Bernard, who maintains that no one has ever followed up on his sister's act. "No woman has occupied the same niche or level as she had," he says. "No one can name a woman who stood out the way she did. She stood out above the crowd."

Moral Leadership

Sarah Koplin just turned 100, but she's still concerned about business at Macon Iron & Paper Stock Co. Inc., where her grandchildren have assumed management positions at the company she helped run for many years. One of those grandchildren, Evan Koplin, relays this conversation:

"I was talking to her right before the end of the year, and she said, 'Didn't y'all change your fiscal year?'

"'Yes, grandma.' I said.

'"Did you do your inventory?'

"'I'm doing it tomorrow,' I said."

Such concern over end-of-the-year bookwork is not unusual; Sarah gets weekly reports from her offspring and often follows up with questions about purchases and sales. And why not? She has more than 60 years of industry experience, having joined her husband Henry's company (which traces its roots back to 1865) in 1929, acting as treasurer and office manager. In the mid-1980s, at the age of 89, she was still driving herself to a full-time job at the scrap company every day, says Evan.

Though Sarah ran the numbers for decades, Evan says her greatest contribution to the company was her moral leadership. "She taught us ethics and honesty and high moral standards, which we've tried to carry through our private lives and business," agrees her son Alvin Koplin.

For Sarah, the best thing about the business was that the whole family was a part of it. "It became a family affair and it kept the family together," says Alvin . "We didn't go out into other areas looking for work. We stayed at home and worked as one team." As a result, he says, "She's blessed today." All of the family has stuck close by this centenarian, he points out, noting that there were about 200 people at a recent Koplin clan reunion.

And the (Many) Others...

To the writer on this intriguing mission of oral history, the chance to talk with the scrap industry's executives emeritus, both men and women, and gather their memories is disappointing only in that there are more characters than time and space allow.

Beyond the prominent names--and this story doesn't pretend to exhaustively cover even those--are the many unsung but hardly unimportant women in the industry. Esther Garbose, daughter of Hyman Garbose, the founder of Garbose Metal Co. ( Gardner , Mass. ), is a good example. Esther, who is so self-effacing she feels her biggest contribution was driving her father to and from work when he was ill, actually served the company for decades as bookkeeper and payroll manager. (In this capacity, at her father's direction, she used to issue checks to some of the laborers three times a week so they wouldn't spend all their wages at once on drink.) She also quit a teaching job after nine years so she could step in--her second stint with the company--to replace the company's bookkeeper who was off to the Army, and she stayed 30 years. This, despite the fact that she suffered some troubles in the course of her job that curtailed her career: She was "run over," in a serious way, by a "very nice" truck driver, and after her recovery, she took an icy fall, breaking her hip.

Thanks for the long-term efforts and sacrifices, Esther and the many others. Without you, the industry wouldn't be the same.

In this spirit of national women’s history month—March—here’s an honorary look at some of the recycling industry’s female pioneers. 

By Jeff Borsecnik

Jeff Borsecnik is as associate editor of Scrap Processing and Recycling.

Behind those wagon-driving scrap peddlers of the early days, many of whose progeny are today's recycling industry executives, were plenty of women who helped build the family businesses--often on top of full--time jobs as wives and mothers. Here are some memories of a few of these women, who long brightened and broadened the industry.

A Ma and Pa Operation

Louis Padnos Iron & Metal Co. ( Holland , Mich. ) is a big player today, but the company was born around 1920 as a true ma-and-pa operation. "Ma," Helen Padnos, was a major contributor, handling cash transactions and bookkeeping as Louis went on the road.

Helen also took over completely when Louis suffered a serious illness in 1929. "She didn't physically do the work, but she told everyone what to do--and she still managed to have a family and keep a home, and all the rest of it," says her son, Seymour Padnos, who eventually took over his mother's responsibilities at the company after he graduated from college and today heads the firm.

Helen, who was from a family of scholars, was a practical woman but apparently a striking figure in the scrap business. "She was a beautiful woman, very handsome," notes Seymour . "I have to tell you that when my dad married my mom and brought her to Holland --he had been a bachelor for 15 years--it shook up the community!"

Helen's poise and presence provided an attractive selling point that often helped get Louis in the door, and her winning ways touched the workers as well. "They worshipped her," says Seymour . "She was an attractive and thoughtful person. Anything my mother asked them to do, they jumped over backward to do it."

Going It Alone

The story of Betsy Schulhofer, the matriarch of Schulhofer's Inc. ( Waynesville , N.C. ), is a little different.

Betsy built her business from scratch, beginning in the mid 1940s as a peddler. "I didn't have anything but a friend"--who lent her money--"and some good strong legs and a strong mind to start out with," she says. Bill Schulhofer Jr., who, along with brother Scotty, represents the third generation at the family company, says his grandmother's example has been a strong lesson to him. "She taught me what hard work was like and what it could accomplish. She didn't sit behind a desk. She was out there in the heat, in the rain, the snow."

Betsy's was a solo business for the first three years. Then her, husband, Jake, quit his job to join her. The business eventually grew, purchased equipment--a truck, then a shear, and a baler--and hired a small work force, including several other women. But Betsy was always in the thick of the work, and people would come to the yard just to see her at it. "But it would be hard to find me," she says, "because I'd be out there ' playin' ball with the men, doing what they were doing. I'd be on a tractor with a big ball breaking cast iron to certain dimensions. ... I had more fun than any woman, I guess."

Now retired, she misses the action. "I met people, went places, and the day was gone before I knew it"--lots of days, in fact, to the tune of about 38 years. "I made so many friends," says Betsy. "I loved my work and had a lot of fun. I still wouldn't feel I am more than 25 or 30 years old if it weren't for my legs," which are actually almost 77. "I'd like to be out there now doing it," she chimes.

A Lasting Light

Like Betsy, Martha Light started with nothing but a little help from some friends, establishing M. Light Metal Brokerage ( Jamaica , N.Y.) and a reputation for integrity. "In this business, sometimes we'd cut off each other's heads for a cent, but nobody wouldn't do the right thing for Martha Light," says Shelley Padnos, granddaughter of Helen Padnos, and, it seems, a bit of a scholar on the history of women in the scrap business.

Martha emigrated from Germany in 1938, losing everything, and landing in the United States was not easy. "I started as a cleaning woman," she says. "On the other side [ Germany ], I had a maid, here I made a maid. And in my first six hours I made $1."

She joined her brother's metal trading company in the early 1950s and worked for him for 6 ½ years. But he eventually laid her off because of poor business, so Martha went out on her own in 1959, brokering scrap copper, brass, and aluminum, as well as some new metal. And she's still at it today, at age 85.

When asked how men reacted to a woman broker early on, Martha says, "They were and still are wonderful to me—I have such good friends." She poses, then answers, her own question: "Why? Because I am honest, decent, and don't cheat anybody or don’t talk anybody into anything. My philosophy is not to push anyone. I give them prices and if they want to buy, then they do. I be honest, tell them what is going on, and I don’t steal anything.

The brokering business, especially exports, has changed a lot during Martha’s tenure. But Light still does business the old-fashioned, personal way, says Padnos’s Robert Stein. “Martha has always had the reputation of doing things the proper way. She’s first-class. She knows her suppliers very well personally and he customers,” he says. “She’s very well-respected, liked, and loved. She’s just like everybody’s grandmother.” And, he adds warmly, “She even sends my kids birthday cards.”

Pioneers Breaching Barriers

In 1930, Frances Brody, a relative of the founders of Alpert & Alpert Iron & Metal Inc. ( Los Angeles ), joined the then-young company as a bookkeeper. In 1983, she retired as a partner and president.

“It was very difficult at first,” recalls Frances of the early days. “For one thing, we started the business in the Depression. And for me, a woman in a man’s world, it wasn’t easy to be accepted. It was very difficult to break in, but eventually, I did. I blazed a trail for women’s lib, evidently.”

Alpert & Alpert was a company going places, and Brody was the right person in the right place at the tight time. “The company was very, very small and she participated in its growth fully,” says Ray Alpert, a second-generation company executive, citing as examples its early move into automobile shredding and the aluminum smelting business.

An early memory of Frances is of her first industry convention, at which she was denied access to a "men-only" meeting. But she stood her ground: "I said, 'No, this is a members-only meeting. If women are members, they are entitled to the same treatment as men."' She waited calmly for the door guard's boss and was granted access to the room. Once inside, she never had a problem being accepted by the men, which matches the way others accepted her, says Ray. "Both customers and employees were very supportive and considered her a friend."

Around the same time, several thousand miles east, was another pioneer, Rose Pashelinsky of M. Pashelinsky and Sons, now known as P.S.R. Corp. ( Jersey City , N. J.).

Rose, a striking, flamboyant character by all accounts, was one of the first women "to break the boys club barrier," attending "men-only" banquets at industry meetings, according to her brother, Bernard Pashelinsky. Rose had joined the company, which was a leader in the then relatively new business of nickel and high temperature alloys, around 1938 and became a trader and manager of its international business. She also served on various governmental panels related to the industry. Certainly, Rose could hold her own with the men.

Add to the mix the fact that Rose was tall and striking. "Boy did she dress!" recalls Seymour Padnos. "She wore the most stylish clothes--she wore short skirts when it was challenging--but she was tough, tough as nails." Shelley Padnos, who accompanied her father to industry meetings as child, came away with the impression that Rose was a character. "Rose Pashelinsky was extremely unique," says Shelley. "Unique enough that my father would point her out to me when I was 6 or 7."

Clearly she made an impression on many. "If there were 1,000 men at a convention, 99 percent knew Rose," says Bernard. "Everybody looked forward to seeing her there. She was a bellwether symbol. Rally 'round the flag, boys." People who did business with Rose, "even if 25 years have gone by since and they had only one transaction, will ask, 'Is Rose still with you?' She made an indelible impression on so many people. When they'd hear my name they'd ask, 'Are you Rose's brother? "'

Rose never retired--she died in 1985 "with her boots on," says Bernard, who maintains that no one has ever followed up on his sister's act. "No woman has occupied the same niche or level as she had," he says. "No one can name a woman who stood out the way she did. She stood out above the crowd."

Moral Leadership

Sarah Koplin just turned 100, but she's still concerned about business at Macon Iron & Paper Stock Co. Inc., where her grandchildren have assumed management positions at the company she helped run for many years. One of those grandchildren, Evan Koplin, relays this conversation:

"I was talking to her right before the end of the year, and she said, 'Didn't y'all change your fiscal year?'

"'Yes, grandma.' I said.

'"Did you do your inventory?'

"'I'm doing it tomorrow,' I said."

Such concern over end-of-the-year bookwork is not unusual; Sarah gets weekly reports from her offspring and often follows up with questions about purchases and sales. And why not? She has more than 60 years of industry experience, having joined her husband Henry's company (which traces its roots back to 1865) in 1929, acting as treasurer and office manager. In the mid-1980s, at the age of 89, she was still driving herself to a full-time job at the scrap company every day, says Evan.

Though Sarah ran the numbers for decades, Evan says her greatest contribution to the company was her moral leadership. "She taught us ethics and honesty and high moral standards, which we've tried to carry through our private lives and business," agrees her son Alvin Koplin.

For Sarah, the best thing about the business was that the whole family was a part of it. "It became a family affair and it kept the family together," says Alvin . "We didn't go out into other areas looking for work. We stayed at home and worked as one team." As a result, he says, "She's blessed today." All of the family has stuck close by this centenarian, he points out, noting that there were about 200 people at a recent Koplin clan reunion.

And the (Many) Others...

To the writer on this intriguing mission of oral history, the chance to talk with the scrap industry's executives emeritus, both men and women, and gather their memories is disappointing only in that there are more characters than time and space allow.

Beyond the prominent names--and this story doesn't pretend to exhaustively cover even those--are the many unsung but hardly unimportant women in the industry. Esther Garbose, daughter of Hyman Garbose, the founder of Garbose Metal Co. ( Gardner , Mass. ), is a good example. Esther, who is so self-effacing she feels her biggest contribution was driving her father to and from work when he was ill, actually served the company for decades as bookkeeper and payroll manager. (In this capacity, at her father's direction, she used to issue checks to some of the laborers three times a week so they wouldn't spend all their wages at once on drink.) She also quit a teaching job after nine years so she could step in--her second stint with the company--to replace the company's bookkeeper who was off to the Army, and she stayed 30 years. This, despite the fact that she suffered some troubles in the course of her job that curtailed her career: She was "run over," in a serious way, by a "very nice" truck driver, and after her recovery, she took an icy fall, breaking her hip.

Thanks for the long-term efforts and sacrifices, Esther and the many others. Without you, the industry wouldn't be the same.

In this spirit of national women’s history month—March—here’s an honorary look at some of the recycling industry’s female pioneers. 

By Jeff Borsecnik

Jeff Borsecnik is as associate editor of Scrap Processing and Recycling.

Behind those wagon-driving scrap peddlers of the early days, many of whose progeny are today's recycling industry executives, were plenty of women who helped build the family businesses--often on top of full--time jobs as wives and mothers. Here are some memories of a few of these women, who long brightened and broadened the industry.

A Ma and Pa Operation

Louis Padnos Iron & Metal Co. ( Holland , Mich. ) is a big player today, but the company was born around 1920 as a true ma-and-pa operation. "Ma," Helen Padnos, was a major contributor, handling cash transactions and bookkeeping as Louis went on the road.

Helen also took over completely when Louis suffered a serious illness in 1929. "She didn't physically do the work, but she told everyone what to do--and she still managed to have a family and keep a home, and all the rest of it," says her son, Seymour Padnos, who eventually took over his mother's responsibilities at the company after he graduated from college and today heads the firm.

Helen, who was from a family of scholars, was a practical woman but apparently a striking figure in the scrap business. "She was a beautiful woman, very handsome," notes Seymour . "I have to tell you that when my dad married my mom and brought her to Holland --he had been a bachelor for 15 years--it shook up the community!"

Helen's poise and presence provided an attractive selling point that often helped get Louis in the door, and her winning ways touched the workers as well. "They worshipped her," says Seymour . "She was an attractive and thoughtful person. Anything my mother asked them to do, they jumped over backward to do it."

Going It Alone

The story of Betsy Schulhofer, the matriarch of Schulhofer's Inc. ( Waynesville , N.C. ), is a little different.

Betsy built her business from scratch, beginning in the mid 1940s as a peddler. "I didn't have anything but a friend"--who lent her money--"and some good strong legs and a strong mind to start out with," she says. Bill Schulhofer Jr., who, along with brother Scotty, represents the third generation at the family company, says his grandmother's example has been a strong lesson to him. "She taught me what hard work was like and what it could accomplish. She didn't sit behind a desk. She was out there in the heat, in the rain, the snow."

Betsy's was a solo business for the first three years. Then her, husband, Jake, quit his job to join her. The business eventually grew, purchased equipment--a truck, then a shear, and a baler--and hired a small work force, including several other women. But Betsy was always in the thick of the work, and people would come to the yard just to see her at it. "But it would be hard to find me," she says, "because I'd be out there ' playin' ball with the men, doing what they were doing. I'd be on a tractor with a big ball breaking cast iron to certain dimensions. ... I had more fun than any woman, I guess."

Now retired, she misses the action. "I met people, went places, and the day was gone before I knew it"--lots of days, in fact, to the tune of about 38 years. "I made so many friends," says Betsy. "I loved my work and had a lot of fun. I still wouldn't feel I am more than 25 or 30 years old if it weren't for my legs," which are actually almost 77. "I'd like to be out there now doing it," she chimes.

A Lasting Light

Like Betsy, Martha Light started with nothing but a little help from some friends, establishing M. Light Metal Brokerage ( Jamaica , N.Y.) and a reputation for integrity. "In this business, sometimes we'd cut off each other's heads for a cent, but nobody wouldn't do the right thing for Martha Light," says Shelley Padnos, granddaughter of Helen Padnos, and, it seems, a bit of a scholar on the history of women in the scrap business.

Martha emigrated from Germany in 1938, losing everything, and landing in the United States was not easy. "I started as a cleaning woman," she says. "On the other side [ Germany ], I had a maid, here I made a maid. And in my first six hours I made $1."

She joined her brother's metal trading company in the early 1950s and worked for him for 6 ½ years. But he eventually laid her off because of poor business, so Martha went out on her own in 1959, brokering scrap copper, brass, and aluminum, as well as some new metal. And she's still at it today, at age 85.

When asked how men reacted to a woman broker early on, Martha says, "They were and still are wonderful to me—I have such good friends." She poses, then answers, her own question: "Why? Because I am honest, decent, and don't cheat anybody or don’t talk anybody into anything. My philosophy is not to push anyone. I give them prices and if they want to buy, then they do. I be honest, tell them what is going on, and I don’t steal anything.

The brokering business, especially exports, has changed a lot during Martha’s tenure. But Light still does business the old-fashioned, personal way, says Padnos’s Robert Stein. “Martha has always had the reputation of doing things the proper way. She’s first-class. She knows her suppliers very well personally and he customers,” he says. “She’s very well-respected, liked, and loved. She’s just like everybody’s grandmother.” And, he adds warmly, “She even sends my kids birthday cards.”

Pioneers Breaching Barriers

In 1930, Frances Brody, a relative of the founders of Alpert & Alpert Iron & Metal Inc. ( Los Angeles ), joined the then-young company as a bookkeeper. In 1983, she retired as a partner and president.

“It was very difficult at first,” recalls Frances of the early days. “For one thing, we started the business in the Depression. And for me, a woman in a man’s world, it wasn’t easy to be accepted. It was very difficult to break in, but eventually, I did. I blazed a trail for women’s lib, evidently.”

Alpert & Alpert was a company going places, and Brody was the right person in the right place at the tight time. “The company was very, very small and she participated in its growth fully,” says Ray Alpert, a second-generation company executive, citing as examples its early move into automobile shredding and the aluminum smelting business.

An early memory of Frances is of her first industry convention, at which she was denied access to a "men-only" meeting. But she stood her ground: "I said, 'No, this is a members-only meeting. If women are members, they are entitled to the same treatment as men."' She waited calmly for the door guard's boss and was granted access to the room. Once inside, she never had a problem being accepted by the men, which matches the way others accepted her, says Ray. "Both customers and employees were very supportive and considered her a friend."

Around the same time, several thousand miles east, was another pioneer, Rose Pashelinsky of M. Pashelinsky and Sons, now known as P.S.R. Corp. ( Jersey City , N. J.).

Rose, a striking, flamboyant character by all accounts, was one of the first women "to break the boys club barrier," attending "men-only" banquets at industry meetings, according to her brother, Bernard Pashelinsky. Rose had joined the company, which was a leader in the then relatively new business of nickel and high temperature alloys, around 1938 and became a trader and manager of its international business. She also served on various governmental panels related to the industry. Certainly, Rose could hold her own with the men.

Add to the mix the fact that Rose was tall and striking. "Boy did she dress!" recalls Seymour Padnos. "She wore the most stylish clothes--she wore short skirts when it was challenging--but she was tough, tough as nails." Shelley Padnos, who accompanied her father to industry meetings as child, came away with the impression that Rose was a character. "Rose Pashelinsky was extremely unique," says Shelley. "Unique enough that my father would point her out to me when I was 6 or 7."

Clearly she made an impression on many. "If there were 1,000 men at a convention, 99 percent knew Rose," says Bernard. "Everybody looked forward to seeing her there. She was a bellwether symbol. Rally 'round the flag, boys." People who did business with Rose, "even if 25 years have gone by since and they had only one transaction, will ask, 'Is Rose still with you?' She made an indelible impression on so many people. When they'd hear my name they'd ask, 'Are you Rose's brother? "'

Rose never retired--she died in 1985 "with her boots on," says Bernard, who maintains that no one has ever followed up on his sister's act. "No woman has occupied the same niche or level as she had," he says. "No one can name a woman who stood out the way she did. She stood out above the crowd."

Moral Leadership

Sarah Koplin just turned 100, but she's still concerned about business at Macon Iron & Paper Stock Co. Inc., where her grandchildren have assumed management positions at the company she helped run for many years. One of those grandchildren, Evan Koplin, relays this conversation:

"I was talking to her right before the end of the year, and she said, 'Didn't y'all change your fiscal year?'

"'Yes, grandma.' I said.

'"Did you do your inventory?'

"'I'm doing it tomorrow,' I said."

Such concern over end-of-the-year bookwork is not unusual; Sarah gets weekly reports from her offspring and often follows up with questions about purchases and sales. And why not? She has more than 60 years of industry experience, having joined her husband Henry's company (which traces its roots back to 1865) in 1929, acting as treasurer and office manager. In the mid-1980s, at the age of 89, she was still driving herself to a full-time job at the scrap company every day, says Evan.

Though Sarah ran the numbers for decades, Evan says her greatest contribution to the company was her moral leadership. "She taught us ethics and honesty and high moral standards, which we've tried to carry through our private lives and business," agrees her son Alvin Koplin.

For Sarah, the best thing about the business was that the whole family was a part of it. "It became a family affair and it kept the family together," says Alvin . "We didn't go out into other areas looking for work. We stayed at home and worked as one team." As a result, he says, "She's blessed today." All of the family has stuck close by this centenarian, he points out, noting that there were about 200 people at a recent Koplin clan reunion.

And the (Many) Others...

To the writer on this intriguing mission of oral history, the chance to talk with the scrap industry's executives emeritus, both men and women, and gather their memories is disappointing only in that there are more characters than time and space allow.

Beyond the prominent names--and this story doesn't pretend to exhaustively cover even those--are the many unsung but hardly unimportant women in the industry. Esther Garbose, daughter of Hyman Garbose, the founder of Garbose Metal Co. ( Gardner , Mass. ), is a good example. Esther, who is so self-effacing she feels her biggest contribution was driving her father to and from work when he was ill, actually served the company for decades as bookkeeper and payroll manager. (In this capacity, at her father's direction, she used to issue checks to some of the laborers three times a week so they wouldn't spend all their wages at once on drink.) She also quit a teaching job after nine years so she could step in--her second stint with the company--to replace the company's bookkeeper who was off to the Army, and she stayed 30 years. This, despite the fact that she suffered some troubles in the course of her job that curtailed her career: She was "run over," in a serious way, by a "very nice" truck driver, and after her recovery, she took an icy fall, breaking her hip.

Thanks for the long-term efforts and sacrifices, Esther and the many others. Without you, the industry wouldn't be the same.