The Showman of Scrap

March/April 1993 

All the world's a stage for Mack Cottler, who has been a star in the scrap show for more than half a century.

BY SI WAKESBERG

Si Wakesberg is New York bureau chief for Scrap Processing and Recycling.

One day, Mack Cottler, a prominent scrap entrepreneur whose heart is in show business, received a telex from a British customer informing him that a friend in the scrap business was coming to Los Angeles and wanted to meet him. On the day of the man's arrival, Mack, elaborately attired in a chauffeur's uniform, drove his Rolls Royce to the airport to greet him. Taking the British visitor's bags, Mack urged him to make himself comfortable in the back seat, saying that Mr. Cottler was waiting for him at his office in Beverly Hills. Driving home, Mack gave his visitor a running commentary on the sights of Los Angeles, and, once there, he instructed the gentleman to enter through the front door. Mack, meanwhile, scrambled through the back entrance and quickly changed into a business suit. He was sitting suavely at his desk, smoking a cigar, when his astonished visitor was ushered in.

It is Mack Cottler's propensity for such elaborate jokes that have earned him the reputation of being the "showman" of the scrap industry—a title he does not denigrate. "I always had a hankering for the stage," the 84-year-old scrap veteran admits, quickly pulling out a portfolio of photographs that attest to his showmanship. In it are pictures of Mack as Chief Flitting Bull in his country club's production of "Annie Get Your Gun," photos of him doing a soft-shoe routine at an Institute of Scrap Iron and Steel (ISIS) convention, and plenty of outlandish portraits, such as Mack dressed as a Chinese mandarin, as an Arab sheik, and as a Castro look-alike—complete with cigar, beard, and uniform. And for the few performances he doesn't have photos of, Mack has stories—of how he acted as master of ceremonies or stand-up comedian at national industry conventions and West Coast meetings, as well as a parade of other light-hearted presentations.

Setting the Stage

If you think, however, that this is the essence of Mack Cottler, you're very much mistaken. Along with showmanship is woven a tremendous amount of hard work, diligence, daily risk, and proven instinct. And if the word "entrepreneur" had not been invented, it would had to have been coined for Mack.

This may be seen best in his work with copper scrap. In his time, he acknowledges, he has handled hundreds of millions of pounds of the red metal, much of it during his 23-year tenure with Phelps Dodge Corp. (Phoenix), where, he says, he directed the flow of scrap "like a commanding general." He still speaks of the firm warmly and he remains on most friendly and amicable terms with its top officers.

Of course, he's had plenty of other experience in the copper scrap business, including some ground-breaking deals. And at a time when most of his contemporaries had already retired, Mack—then entering his 80s—became a consultant to the PMX Industries (Cedar Rapids, Iowa), a subsidiary of Poongson Corp. (Seoul, Korea). Soon after, he performed similar services for the Chinese scrap syndicate W.H. Group Inc., which maintains U.S. offices in Gardena , Calif. (The latter firm will long be remembered by Mack's friends as the company that threw him a birthday party at the Institute of Scrap Recycling Industries's [ISRI] [Washington, D.C.] 1991 convention in Las Vegas—to which company dignitaries flew in from Beijing.)

Mack's industry experience is far broader than copper, however. For example, back in 1945—just as World War II was ending—Convair (which would later become General Dynamics) asked Mack to come to Fort Worth, Texas, to handle aluminum aircraft scrap. Of this venture, Mack relates an amusing but telling story: "At that time, Convair was short on cash, so the officials said to me: `As a bonus, we'll throw in some material we have in the warehouse, gratis. Do what you can with it.'" The material, blackout curtains, seemed useless since the war was over, but quick-witted Mack found a ready outlet: a manufacturer that needed just such material to make pants pockets. "I made a bundle on that deal," Mack recalls, with a true entrepreneurial grin.

Mack has other tales of aluminum deals to tell. In the late 1940s, when working for the Los Angeles-based M.F. Berg & Co. (then one of the largest, if not the largest, scrap firms on the West Coast), he handled aluminum scrap from dismantling operations at the big aircraft manufacturing firms, including Lockheed, Northrup, North American, and Douglas. And in 1948 he established the California By-Products Co. along with partner U.S. Reduction Co. (Munster, Ind.)

Mack is also well-known in the ferrous scrap industry. From 1956 to 1958, he made 41 trips between the United States and Cuba, where he directed the dismantling of railroad equipment just before Castro made his dramatic entrance into Havana . "We shipped out more than 35,000 tons of scrap through Luria Brothers [Cleveland]," he recalls. The experience also left him with some close calls. Sit with him if you have a few hours and you'll hear some hair-raising stories of his Cuban adventures.

Hit the Road, Mack

Mack was born in New York City's Harlem neighborhood, but, at an early age, moved to Brooklyn 's East New York section, where he fondly remembers playing punchball on the streets. Fifty years later he made a return pilgrimage to the scenes of his early youth, and what he saw—poverty, lack of facilities for the kids, rundown neighborhoods—shocked him. So he talked to local police officials, made a hefty contribution to the Police Athletic League, and set up a fund to establish a punchball team in his old neighborhood, supplying the uniforms and equipment. He then rounded up five of his early ball-playing companions—this was in itself a job since they were living all over theUnited States—got them to come to New York in July, and organized a punchball game against the young neighborhood team. The story made quite a splash and was written up in the New York Daily News.

"It was fun," he says, smiling. "The kids beat us old-timers 1 to 0, but it was a great day. The police closed off the street. A crowd turned out. We all had a good time." He adds thoughtfully, "If enough kids had the opportunity to play ball, maybe it would help ease tensions and lead youngsters to better lives."

Mack's own youth was no picnic. "When I was about 17, I had already hitchhiked to Florida, trying to make a buck here and there. I slept in hobo camps, rode the rails, and delivered telegrams," he recalls. "I remember I won $25 in a Charleston contest held, not in a ballroom, but in a real-estate office in Miami, which employed me to entertain the tourists."

What he found a real penchant for, however, was sales. Curiously, Mack began by selling magazine subscriptions for a little-known publication, The American Hebrew, in the early 1930s, a job that took him across the country. When he reached California, he says, he knew he had found his Utopia, though it would take him a while before he could afford to make his home there.

During his cross-country journey, he discovered the scrap industry, and when he returned to New York he looked up the scrap industry's then-main publication, Waste Trade Journal, and asked for a job. Mack's travels for the Waste Trade Journal, his meeting with scrap dealers across the United States, and his keen business acumen eventually led him into the scrap industry.

He speaks nostalgically of some of the men he became associated with in those early years, particularly David Klimist, his partner in a deal to scrap the TBM Avengers in Arizona. Several hundred of these torpedo bombers—veterans of the battles of Midway, Tarawa, and Rabaul—were scrapped, each with a fuselage yielding 3,000 pounds of useful metal. But when David's two brothers came back after World War II, Mack says, "I knew it was time to bow out of the picture. We worked things out, no lawyer was needed. And," he recalls with a sudden smile, "I sold my share of the operation to Jake Gachman, grandfather of Arnie Gachman"—president of ReMA and Gachman Metals & Recycling (Fort Worth).

Mack also emphasizes special relationships with Sam Shapiro, Sidney Danziger, Milton and Ralph Levenson, Mark Berg, and many others in those early years—friendships that survived over time.

His family relationship has been a special one as well, he notes. Mack first met his wife, Sylvia, at a resort in the Catskill Mountains, but lost her telephone number. Luckily, he says, he met a friend who knew her and supplied him with that crucial information. They were wed in 1936; 57 years later, he still speaks of her, and their four children, eight grandchildren, and one great-grandchild, with affection and respect.

All the World's A Trade

Mack's long-standing involvement with the scrap industry's trade associations is truly historic. Photographs from association meetings he's attended hang on the walls of his home—memories of the past, but to Mack, living reminders of the good old days. He can point to a picture taken in 1957, showing a roomful of scrap executives, and tick off the names of everyone—even though most have passed away or retired from the industry—and tell you a story about them!

The event he always returns to, however, and the one the Cottler name is forever linked with, was a monumental party Mack and Sylvia gave at their home during the 1972 National Association of Secondary Metals Industries (NASMI) convention in Los Angeles. The association's president, M.D. Schwartz of Pacific Smelting Corp. (Torrance, Calif.), later wrote to Mack that he was "completely overwhelmed" by the gala evening.

As an association member, Mack has been able to strut his stuff at meetings and conventions, do one-man "schtik" routines, and entertain his fellow scrap members. But membership has also given him an opportunity to do solid work for the organizations and for the industry as a whole.

For instance, although there are few industry members who can claim to have chaired the same committee of the two leading scrap associations of that time—ISIS and the National Association of Recycling Industries (NARI)—Mack, as chairman of both groups' government sales committees, accomplished this feat, and is now considered the doyen in the field of government scrap sales. Yet not many people in the industry, to this day, know of his behind-the-scenes efforts on behalf of the scrap industry, to bargain with the Department of Defense and its related sales divisions on issues he felt were important to the industry.

One particular battle occurred when the Defense Department stopped selling brass shells under public bids, allocating them directly to brass mills during the Vietnam War. Mack and the committee fought this action, insisting that dealers be permitted to bid on the shells, pointing out that it would be to the government's advantage. Mack gave up personal time, flew at his own expense from Los Angeles to Washington, D.C., to testify, and finally exacted a promise from the department that as soon as the war ended, it would restore public bidding to the shells.

His work in this area extended into assistance to the government as well, with Mack lecturing at Defense Department seminars and conducting workshops for the Army, Navy, and Air Force. It should come as no surprise, then, that Gen. Allen M. Goodson, Commander of the Defense Property Disposal Services (DPDS) (Battle Creek, Mich.), wrote this to Mack in 1981: "As I leave the DPDS to join the private sector, I want to express my appreciation for your advice, assistance, and friendship." And Col. Arthur T. Buswell, deputy executive director of the Defense Logistics Agency (Memphis, Tenn.) wrote in 1986: "As I retire from the Army, I would like to thank you for your professional advice and counsel during the years. Your support of defense programs and willingness to share your knowledge has been outstanding and of great value to the program and to me personally."

The Rewards of Doing What He Does Best

On March 9, 1988 , on the occasion of Mack's 80th birthday, Rep. Howard L. Berman (D-Calif.) entered into the congressional record "A Tribute to Mack Cottler," in which he praised not only Mack's business successes, but also his record in the community, calling him "a man who has accomplished much in his lifetime."

Of course, Berman isn't the only one who has honored Mack for his efforts. His work for the City of Hope led to the establishment of the Mack Cottler Research Fellowship, and his efforts for the United Jewish Appeal were rewarded with meetings with top Israeli officials, including Golda Meir and Yitzhak Rabin. He has also been feted by the Westwood (Calif.) Shrine Club, and recently was singularly honored by the Los Angeles community leaders for his work in setting up small recycling centers in the city's South Central district.

All in all, it's been an active, energetic life, filled with humor, family devotion, and many wonderful personal and professional moments. Mack Cottler, approaching 85, looks 20 years younger, is as spry as someone in his 50s, and is still filled with zest and gumption. He may be the showman of the scrap industry, but his life is a story of one man's struggle to find a place for himself in a highly competitive industry. He may tell jokes, but underneath there's a caring, committed individual who's proud of his industry, dedicated to his community, and an affectionate husband and family man.

Sidney Danziger said it best in a testimonial telegram sent to Mack years ago: "Hope is a synonym for Mack Cottler. He's funnier than Bob Hope; he exudes hope for the downtrodden; and his lifelong friends in the industry know that everything they hoped for always came true when they were associated with Mack."