Sir Montague Burton (15^th August 1885 to 21^st September 1952)

I had to borrow a key from the office to get into the Jewish section of this cemetery in Harrogate. I’d seen a couple of council workers trimming some graves and asked where the Jewish cemetery was. “It’s locked shut, the Jews usually visit on certain days,” one of them said, “You’ll have to get a key from the office.” I asked if I could clamber over into the cemetery (wouldn’t be the first time) but they said I’d need a pole vault. They were right – the fence was too high, no crumbling wall to clamber over.

Here lies one of the Britain’s most successful Jewish immigrants, who came to Britain with little money or English. He was even knighted before 50. It’s Montague Burton who founded and built up founded Burton Menswear, one of Britain's largest chains of clothes shops. Having little interest in clothes I can’t recall ever entering a Burton’s shop but I remember seeing them.

Montague was just fifteen when he fled to Britain alone. He was from Kaunas in Lithuania but being a Jew meant he was forced to leave. Lithuania was subject to Russian large-scale, targeted and repeated anti-Jew rioting and his life was in danger. He arrived in England in 1900 and was a hard-worker from the start. Aged 16 he was living in Manchester, peddling textiles and by 18 set up his first outfitter’s shop in Chesterfield in Derbyshire. He was selling on suits bought from a wholesaler. Aged 24 he married Sophia Marks (they’d go on to have a daughter and five sons) and the name of the business was changed to Burton & Burton.

By 28 he had a headquarters in Sheffield, a manufacturing factory in Leeds and five tailor shops. Growth was phenomenal and by 44 he had four hundred shops. In those days even poor men dressed smartly in suits - no jeans, tee-shirts or tracksuits. Montague saw an opportunity and seized on it. He designed clothes that kindled ambition, style and integrity. He was known as the “the tailor of taste.” Employing 10,500 people he headed Britain’s sixth biggest company in terms of employee numbers. Soon there were 600 shops to look after.

How did he do it? There were cheaper “30-bob” suits around but Montague was the consummate businessman who oversaw wider commerce. His approach was three-pronged: there was organisation, salesmanship and publicity. His trident blazed ridiculously bright as he was terrific in all three areas. Soon he was overseeing the largest clothing factory in Europe and the sprawling Leeds factory housed the largest canteen in the world (it could handle 8,000 workers at a sitting.) At last it wasn’t just the higher classes that could look smart. Butchers n bakers n candlestick makers could look smart.

Quantity didn’t reduce quality and every made-to-measure suit that came off the line was sharp. High quality was also applied to the shops and they were known for their sparkling smart stylish appearance. They stood out like beacons of modernity - Portland stone, polished granite and large gold lettering. Some shops still remain as listed buildings. Montague often chose shops under snooker halls as he thought pastimes helped keep young men away from alcohol.

Aged 44 he let the company go public and, thanks to the Second World War, sales exploded. Burtons made a quarter of the British military uniforms during World War II. It exploded wider after the war when it made a third of demobilisation clothing. Aged just 46 he was offered Lord Mayor of Leeds by declined it. A year later he was knighted for "services to industrial relations." Sadly he died suddenly aged 67 while giving an after-dinner speech in Leeds on 21st September 1952. At first he was buried at Harrogate Synagogue but in 1964 he was moved here where I’m stood.

The cemetery is small so I found Montague’s grave in a matter of seconds. The simple black cover stone does nothing to scream about its occupant’s resounding success. He’d come a long way, sailing to Britain as a lad with little money. At the time 150,000 to 200,000 Jews fled to Britain between 1881 and 1914 and almost none rose above working in the sweatshops of London or mills of Yorkshire. This man did though. Blimey, not bad for a boy who came here and say not much more than “hello”, “goodbye” and “thank you.”

Nowadays not much is left of his empire. After Montague’s death Burtons Menswear rumbled on for three decades before it crumbled. Today, the Topman chain is the Burton family’s last significant legacy. I did a healthy salute and left.

In one of Harrogate’s main cemeteries, looking for the Jewish bit…