Fortunately, after that first breakdown, the truck ran fine for the next couple of years, and proved to be a workhorse for carrying tools and materials to my roofing jobs.

Our second building was also not a big money-maker but it gave me an education about managing residential properties. Any work that was necessary—plumbing, plaster, paint—I did it all myself.

I learned my cunning in the bunkers in Ukraine where you needed quick wits to survive. Now I meant to use my street smarts to overcome any barriers to success that I encountered in this free and wonderful country.

I started my career as a roofer with a $200 loan to buy a beat-up panel truck. Twenty years later, I was now embarking a new phase of life as a full-time real-estate operator with a portfolio of properties already worth in the millions.

Abe and I looked at a few buildings and eventually decided to go in together on what was called a “taxpayer”—a one story commercial building with a row of stores.

Dunning delinquent customers wasn’t fun, but either we nudged people to pay what they owed or I would have to go back to being a wage slave.

After my split with Abe, I proceeded on my own as an Edelstein family enterprise, buying real estate for Florence and my children as well as for myself.

If you drive around the neighborhoods of Brooklyn today you can still see some Edelstein & Sons Roofing signs in various places.

Another problem, as my former boss had predicted, was getting customers to pay what they owed us. This was so especially with some of the Orthodox Jewish building owners.

It was hard to make money in areas with stable populations. You needed to be in neighborhoods where apartments were changing hands—with older residents moving out and new people coming in.

We would do one job for a customer, and that turned into additional work on the customer’s other buildings. One owner would refer us to another, and that one would tell two more.