Little has changed in the 25 years since Ron Holder became a shoemaker
The aged sign over “Ronnie Hasandlar” on 4th street in Lakewood proudly displays “Shomer Shabbos.” Inside, little has changed in the 25 years since Ron Holder became a shoemaker: Shelves of shoes line the walls, while tools, taps, and scraps of leather are scattered around the workbench. It smells like polish and purpose.
Ronnie didn’t become a shoemaker by chance. “I only got into this because of Rabbi Shlomo Gissinger a”h,” he says as he hammers away at a heel. Nothing was too big or too small for Rabbi Gissinger, a kashrus expert and sought-after posek who would be dealing with life-and-death matters and then segue into doing small favors to help people. “I spoke to him about what kind of job I should take on, and he told me, ‘shoemaker.’ I came home and told my family, and they said, ‘No way. Why that?’ ” He shrugs. “I think he talked to G-d.”
Following Rabbi Gissinger’s advice, Ronnie apprenticed under a Turkish shoemaker in Deal, learning the craft from the ground up.
The bell above the door jingles constantly with customers coming and going. “We have a great relationship with our customers,” Ronnie says. “Baruch Hashem, we have a good reputation.”
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