July/August 2000
By Si Wakesberg
Si Wakesberg is New York bureau chief for Scrap.
[Scrap industry legend Mack Cottler died in May at age 92. Here, Cottler’s long-time friend Si Wakesberg pays tribute to his life, career, and vibrant character.]
We don’t have many stand-up comedians in the scrap industry, but Mack Cottler was the Seinfeld of them all. He could get up on the stage at a moment’s notice, do a tap dance, tell a few jokes, and have the audience in the palm of his hand. His one-man act was spontaneous, lively, and warm. And like all great entertainers, he could go on all night.
Like many comedians, however, Mack had a serious side off-stage. In his lifetime, he estimated, he’d handled millions of pounds of copper and copper scrap, innumerable quantities of aluminum scrap, and thousands of tons of ferrous scrap. “Mr. Copper Scrap”—as Mack was fondly known among the Asians who became his customers and friends—never stopped trading.
He had a long relationship with Phelps Dodge Corp. and later in life, when most of his colleagues had retired to Florida, Mack was a consultant to Pan Metal, the subsidiary of a large Korean firm. Later he became a consultant to the W.H. Group, a Chinese concern.
Mack was fond of telling stories about the days when he handled aluminum scrap from the dismantling of old aircraft. His tales and anecdotes of this period alone could fill a book. That’s not counting his hair-raising adventures in Cuba, where he was in charge of railroad dismantling on the eve of Castro’s entrance into Havana.
In addition to being a great businessman, Mack was a committed association man, taking his work in NARI, ISIS, and ReMA to heart. As chairman of the government sales committee—a post he held in all three organizations—he was on the job every minute, besieging government officials and industry colleagues, and driving the association staffs to distraction.
Mack was on vacation in Miami Beach when the issue of sales of brass shells by the Defense Supply Agency (DSA) came up. The Vietnam War was coming to an end and the shells, which had been allocated to consumers during the war, were a topic of discussion. Should they be returned to sealed bids, as scrap processors requested? Mack gave up his vacation, flew to Washington to testify, and gave a logical and aggressive view why the shells should be sold under sealed bids.
Those who only knew Mack as a comedian would have been astonished at his seriousness, his public policy approach, his commitment to a cause. His knowledge of the industry, his vast experience, plus his political skill in making friends in high places all made him a most effective chairman.
Mack’s friendship with Col. Arthur Buswell, Gen. Allen M. Goodson, and other top officials of DSA created a reservoir of goodwill for the scrap industry. Through humor, cajolery, and common sense, Mack convinced these men of the sincerity of the scrap industry’s cause. He was invited on several occasions to lecture at Army and Navy seminars.
I’ve often thought that Mack’s comic efforts, his jokes, his schtick were defenses against his struggles as a poor Brooklyn kid. He fought his way up in a tough neighborhood, a tough city, and later a tough industry. Mack felt that laughter could overcome everything.
Nostalgically, he returned to Brooklyn decades later to the scenes of his youth. The turf had been taken over by black youngsters who were struggling upward, as Mack had once done. Unabashed, Mack sponsored a streetball game with these kids and even gave money to the Police Athletic League to help them. Mack, who could be at ease with Golda Meir or top entertainers, could be just as friendly with poor black neighborhood kids. That ball game, by the way, was featured and photographed in the Daily News.
To say Mack had a colorful life would be to underrate it. With his wife Sylvia, he lived in a lovely house in a canyon in Beverly Hills. One year, during a NARI convention in Los Angeles, the Cottlers gave a party. Arriving guests had their cars whisked away by attendants. Inside, there were Hollywood celebrities to wow the crowd, as well as food and drink to rival the finest hotel.
In 1998, Mack turned 90 while attending the ReMA convention in San Francisco. Though he was notably slower and more thoughtful, he was still chomping on his cigar, telling a few (if old) jokes, carrying on the Mack Cottler image.
Though he had an up-and-down ride in the copper business, making and losing fortunes, nothing ever daunted him. (A parcel of real estate in prime L.A. insured his future, so he told me.) As a scrap trader, he took the usual risks, sometimes winning, sometimes losing. But no matter what, he presented a smiling face at fate.
Now he is gone. Mack Cottler died in Los Angeles in May. To those who knew him or heard of him, he remains one of those vivid and unforgettable characters to come out of this industry. His passing makes us realize that the golden age of the scrap pioneers is slowly coming to an end. •
We don’t have many stand-up comedians in the scrap industry, but Mack Cottler was the Seinfeld of them all. He could get up on the stage at a moment’s notice, do a tap dance, tell a few jokes, and have the audience in the palm of his hand. His one-man act was spontaneous, lively, and warm. And like all great entertainers, he could go on all night.