Shimon Ben-David z"l

I need to tell you about Shimon, who passed away yesterday. 

We typically pay public tribute to famous people, celebrities, or to people who have made some important or noteworthy contribution in some field of endeavour that affects many of us. Shimon did none of these things. He sold textiles. A jobber (or more formally a 'converter') in the parlance of the shmatta trade. It's someone who buys ends or remainder textiles from manufacturers to re-sell wholesale to other smaller manufacturers or to retail customers. 

I need to write something about Shimon because on the website of Paperman's & Sons, where obituaries of most every member of the Montreal Jewish community normally appears, there's a photo of Shimon (above), but no obituary. I don't know why the family has chosen not to write anything. That's okay, we all have our memories. But because there is no formal obituary I can't put his dates next to his name. I believe he was close to 80 at the time of his passing. 

To say Shimon wasn't a celebrity is not exactly right. To many of us who worked in and around the Montreal shmatta business he was a kind of celebrity. I got to know him when I started managing 99 Chabanel. He had a textile business on the 4th floor of the building. He was a tenant long before I got there in 1995. He frequently told me that he was the oldest continuous tenant in the building, and I believe that is true. He took a lot of pride in that.

The photo posted on Paperman’s website captures him perfectly: the enormous smile beneath his equally enormous trademark mustache. Shimon had a warm, larger-than-life personality and a booming, expressive voice. He was open, affectionate, and endlessly talkative, a natural storyteller who could charm you within minutes. Once Shimon liked you, he liked you forever, without reservation. I was fortunate to be on the receiving end of that affection.

I never learned much about Shimon's upbringing, except that he was born and grew up in Israel. Even after many decades of living in Canada Shimon never lost his Hebrew accent. I'm sure he did military service and perhaps even fought in '67 or '73. But I can't say for sure. He never talked about it. At some point I may have asked him why he came to Canada, something I asked many of my tenants who were immigrants - and most of them were either first generation immigrants, or the children of immigrants. I wanted to know if he was a 'Yored' because of war. 'Yored' is the Hebrew word for a native Israeli who leaves Israel, literally someone who goes down, the opposite of an 'Oleh' which is someone who goes up ('makes aliyah') when they immigrate from the diaspora to the Holyland. In our tradition immigrating to Israel from the diaspora is considered a spiritual 'step up', which is why I am always fascinated by Israelis who chose to leave. Shimon never said much about it. One 'Yored' who I knew told me that he left because being a businessman in Israel is like swimming with sharks, while in Canada it's like taking candy from babies. Maybe that's why Shimon left, I don't know. But one thing I can say about Shimon is that he was no business shark, and I mean that in the best sense.   

Shimon had a huge heart, that I know for sure. He loved the textile business, but he loved people even more. I saw it every day in the way he treated his suppliers, his customers, and his employees. Shimon liked to make a buck as much as the next guy. But I got the impression that doing business was more about the people he interacted with than about the deals he made. His customers loved him and he built a loyal retail clientele, mostly consisting of the immigrant ladies who sewed their own clothes, in recent years mostly Haitian and Arab women. When you bought fabric from Shimon he always gave you an extra yard at no charge to make sure he wasn't shortchanging you. 

When my youngest daughter learned to sew and wanted to buy some fabric to make her own clothes, the first place I took her to find fabric was Shimon's on the 4th floor at 99 Chabanel. She was so excited to peruse his shelves stacked high with roll upon roll of fabric. He had a great selection and she always found exactly what she was looking for at Shimon's. 

Truth is I took my daughter to Shimon's not just because I knew she would find the fabric she needed, but because I wanted her to meet him. I wanted her to get a feeling for the relationships I had with my tenants, and Shimon was at the top of my list. I wanted my daughter to get a sense that what I did for a living was meaningful not for the money I earned but for the relationships I made - and Shimon embodied that more than anyone. I didn't expect that after she collected an armload of fabric, Shimon wouldn't let us pay for it. On our last visit to his place, he told me, to my embarrassment, that he would never let me pay no matter how much fabric my daughter wanted. Like I say, he was no shark in business.  

He had a feud with another textile retailer in the building for a while. They were neighbours on the 4th floor and kept trying to undercut each other on price. There was some animosity between them, but it didn't last for very long. Not even fierce competitors could hold a grudge against Shimon.

Shimon loved his family and took tremendous pride in the accomplishments of his children, Dominic, Carmello, Amanda and Sheena. In the years I managed 99 he was married to Angela and they worked together. I don't know what went on between them behind the scenes, all I can say is that even years after they split, he would talk about her fondly and with affection.  

Shimon stood out simply by being generous, loyal, and a mensch. He loved people and they loved him back. That, in the end, is more than enough. He will be spoken about with affection for many years to come.