HUNTINGTON, W.Va. - Dave Cohen decided he would make his living selling papers. "My original thought was to be a big paper man," he said. "I was selling newspapers and making pretty good money for four or five hours a day."

 Then, Ralph Masinter offered him a job in his pawn shop, B&B Loans. "I told him I couldn't take the job. I wouldn't be making as much, just $18 a week. Dad told me to give up the newspapers and take the job. He wanted me to learn something. It's the best thing I ever did.

"That's where I met Mack Webb."

Their friendship evolved into a partnership that spawned a sprawling Huntington landmark - Mack & Dave's.

This summer, the retail mainstay, a massive, multifaceted emporium that consumes nearly an entire city block, will celebrate its 60th year.

After the interstates skirted Huntington, after the new mall went in near Ona, after urban renewal and the Marshall football stadium transformed the town's commercial configuration, the once bustling business district died.

But the glorified pawn shop on Third Avenue persevered.

"When the mall started, downtown Huntington went downhill," Cohen said. "But people still come to us because we take care of our customers. There are no strangers here."

The 100,000-square-foot sales floor features separate jewelry, gun and music "departments" bigger than many stand-alone stores. Merchandise runs the gamut. Cameras. Clocks. Vacuum sweepers. Bunk beds. Zippo lighters. Vases. Sofas. Umbrellas. Chest sets. Rugs. Luggage. Televisions. And yes, pawned rings and watches, guns and guitars, DVDs, weather scanners, even a pair of steel-toed boots, a jeweled ceremonial sword and a mounted Bowie knife.

"It used to be mostly pawn," Cohen said. "At first, it was a good business because there were only one or two in town. Now there's one on every corner. Now our merchandise is about 70 percent new and 30 percent used."

Mack and Dave, the unlikely pair

David Cohen, known to virtually everyone as Davey, and James McClung Webb, known to absolutely everybody as Mack, made an unlikely pair - Webb lanky, nonchalant and decidedly social, a converted Catholic who had a way with diamonds; Cohen short and cherubic, a mild-mannered Jew who liked the nuts and bolts of the business, the checks and balances.

Cohen grew up on the poor side of the tracks in Huntington. "My father was sick most of his life with diabetes and TB," he said. "He was in the sack business. He would go to farmers and buy the burlap sacks they used for sugar and potatoes and the like. He would straighten them out and sell them to a place in Columbus. Dad had a lot of property, but when the Depression hit, he lost everything."

Webb, who died in 1992, was the son of a railroad superintendent. "He had a stable job during the Depression," said his son, Marnie. "Dad was an avid baseball player. He absolutely loved baseball. Dad was never baptized. He met my mother. The Weilers were devout Catholics, so he converted. There were always jokes about a Jew and Gentile doing business together."

Webb and Cohen worked amicably together at B&B Loans until Cohen went off to war in Guam, a mechanic on B-29s for the Army Air Force. Mack had a busted eardrum and couldn't go.

After the war, Cohen found work in a Cincinnati pawn shop. "My old boss at B&B would come and want me to go back to work for him. I kept saying no. Then he came in one time and locked the door. He said he wasn't leaving until I said yes."

So Cohen returned to Huntington, back to buddy Mack and B&B Loans. Owner Ralph Masinter died. His wife and father took over the pawn shop. "We couldn't get along," Cohen said. "Finally, Mack and I quit or got fired, I can't remember which."

 Then, Ralph Masinter offered him a job in his pawn shop, B&B Loans. "I told him I couldn't take the job. I wouldn't be making as much, just $18 a week. Dad told me to give up the newspapers and take the job. He wanted me to learn something. It's the best thing I ever did.

"That's where I met Mack Webb."

Their friendship evolved into a partnership that spawned a sprawling Huntington landmark - Mack & Dave's.

This summer, the retail mainstay, a massive, multifaceted emporium that consumes nearly an entire city block, will celebrate its 60th year.

After the interstates skirted Huntington, after the new mall went in near Ona, after urban renewal and the Marshall football stadium transformed the town's commercial configuration, the once bustling business district died.

But the glorified pawn shop on Third Avenue persevered.

"When the mall started, downtown Huntington went downhill," Cohen said. "But people still come to us because we take care of our customers. There are no strangers here."

The 100,000-square-foot sales floor features separate jewelry, gun and music "departments" bigger than many stand-alone stores. Merchandise runs the gamut. Cameras. Clocks. Vacuum sweepers. Bunk beds. Zippo lighters. Vases. Sofas. Umbrellas. Chest sets. Rugs. Luggage. Televisions. And yes, pawned rings and watches, guns and guitars, DVDs, weather scanners, even a pair of steel-toed boots, a jeweled ceremonial sword and a mounted Bowie knife.

"It used to be mostly pawn," Cohen said. "At first, it was a good business because there were only one or two in town. Now there's one on every corner. Now our merchandise is about 70 percent new and 30 percent used."

Mack and Dave, the unlikely pair

David Cohen, known to virtually everyone as Davey, and James McClung Webb, known to absolutely everybody as Mack, made an unlikely pair - Webb lanky, nonchalant and decidedly social, a converted Catholic who had a way with diamonds; Cohen short and cherubic, a mild-mannered Jew who liked the nuts and bolts of the business, the checks and balances.

Cohen grew up on the poor side of the tracks in Huntington. "My father was sick most of his life with diabetes and TB," he said. "He was in the sack business. He would go to farmers and buy the burlap sacks they used for sugar and potatoes and the like. He would straighten them out and sell them to a place in Columbus. Dad had a lot of property, but when the Depression hit, he lost everything."

Webb, who died in 1992, was the son of a railroad superintendent. "He had a stable job during the Depression," said his son, Marnie. "Dad was an avid baseball player. He absolutely loved baseball. Dad was never baptized. He met my mother. The Weilers were devout Catholics, so he converted. There were always jokes about a Jew and Gentile doing business together."

Webb and Cohen worked amicably together at B&B Loans until Cohen went off to war in Guam, a mechanic on B-29s for the Army Air Force. Mack had a busted eardrum and couldn't go.

After the war, Cohen found work in a Cincinnati pawn shop. "My old boss at B&B would come and want me to go back to work for him. I kept saying no. Then he came in one time and locked the door. He said he wasn't leaving until I said yes."

So Cohen returned to Huntington, back to buddy Mack and B&B Loans. Owner Ralph Masinter died. His wife and father took over the pawn shop. "We couldn't get along," Cohen said. "Finally, Mack and I quit or got fired, I can't remember which."

They bought Albert's Pawn Shop on Third Avenue from the father of Masinter's widow. They needed $15,000. "Mack had no money. I had $10,000. I don't know how I had even that."

Edwin "Peachy" Masinter, a partner in the Huntington B&B Loan store, was operating a B&B Loans offshoot in Charleston. He put up $5,000 as a silent partner. "He sold us used merchandise at cost. If it cost us $5, we sold it for $20. We reinvested what we made and eventually paid him off."

They started strictly as pawnbrokers.  "In the old days, shoes and clothing - Florsheim Shoes and Hart Schaffner Marx suits - were our No. 1 pawned items. We would take almost anything of value. People didn't have credit then. We were one of the first to offer credit."

Cohen handled the credit office; Mack handled the diamonds. "Mack knew diamonds as well as anybody. He learned it on his own. That was his part of the business.

"The only argument we ever had was when they came out with computers. We used to do credits by hand. I would even take the cards home and work on them. Mack didn't want me working that hard. He wanted me to go to computers. I got so mad, I took one of the file buckets and threw it down in the doorway.

"We did get computers, but we still have the old-fashioned cards as backups. I like the cards. You can pick them up and look at them."

Mack & Dave's changed locations four times, always on Third Avenue. "When Urban Renewal took our building and put us out, we bought this space. That was 1974. We had to borrow $1 million. We had done well enough by then to impress the bank. Peachy didn't want to be the third partner. Here were these two young guys, and he wouldn't have any say-so, two against one. So he sold out to us."

'They leave when they die'

At 84, Cohen minds his store as vigorously as he did when he opened it 60 years ago. He claims he spends most of his time in the office. Employees know better. "He's the floorwalker," said longtime jewelry department clerk Sherry Wallace. "He's all over this store. He personally signs every purchase order. You don't put anything over on Davey."

The store employs 40 people, many with more than 40 years under their belts. "They leave when they die," Cohen said.

Peggy Morris, secretary-treasurer, started 50 years ago as a bookkeeper working Mondays and Saturdays in high school. "She's No. 1 in the store," Cohen said. "If Peggy wasn't here, I wouldn't be here either."

"If not for him, I wouldn't be here," she said. "My husband retired 15 years ago, but I've kept working because of Davey. He's one in a million."

Bill Morris in the gun department goes back to 1961. Cap Hatfield in the music department started in 1968. Emma "Poodle" Plymale tickets merchandise among other things. She started in 1957, left for a couple of years then returned for good in 1962. Cohen's brother, James, 89, an integral cog in the store since the beginning, still makes rounds.

Marilyn Cohen, Davey's wife, helps out on the switchboard. Their two daughters live in Florida and have no interest in taking over, he said. He doesn't know what will happen to the place when he's gone. "That's going to be a big problem," he said. "It could be sold. It would be a gold mine for somebody."

But he's got a better solution "I've made up my mind. I'm just not going."

Reach Sandy Wells at san...@wvgazette.com or 304-348-5173.