Chaim Rosenblatt // World of Blue

I was born in 1984 and grew up in Flatbush as the middle child of seven siblings. My father was a prominent rav in Flatbush and had his own yeshivah. I was a wild kid. Looking back, so much of that behavior was undiagnosed ADHD. In that generation, it wasn’t nearly as common to identify or treat it, at least not in my world. I went to more yeshivos than you can believe.

“I started off in Ohr Shraga Veretzky. For most of elementary school, I was in the Mirrer yeshivah. In seventh grade, I was switched to Torah Temimah, and when I took my farher, the rebbi told me that I learned like a second grader. Ninth grade was rough. I ran away from home for a couple of days because I wanted to wear a green shirt and my parents didn’t approve of colored shirts. I ended up staying with an amazing aunt and uncle of mine, Mendel and Miriam Tress, and I attended Beis Shraga in Monsey. After that, I wanted a more ‘top-tier’ yeshivah, so I went to Long Beach. That was probably my best period of learning. When I learned, I really learned. Then I went to South Fallsburg, Brisk and BMG.
“I see now that many of my decisions were driven by a desire for a specific image: Which yeshivah sounded better? Which would impress people more when they heard I went there? It’s interesting, though, that I always wanted to learn. At the beginning of a zman, I would have such a cheishek, but then the battery would go dead. I remember telling my chavrusa in tenth grade, ‘I don’t know how I’m ever going to stay married. I never keep anything for long. I don’t even keep a chavrusa for more than three weeks.’

“In the conventional sense, I was a terrible student. I barely went to class. I was kicked out more often than I was allowed to stay in. My grades were abysmal. In sixth grade I was so scared to show my failing marks to my parents that I forged their signatures on 56 tests; I only got caught on the 57th because my handwriting was so bad. Suffice it to say that I didn’t succeed academically, and I struggled socially and emotionally too. I got into fights and wasn’t invited to most of my schoolmates’ bar mitzvahs.

“I needed constant stimulation; I had to always be engaged in something. Growing up, the highlight of my year was when I sold esrogim and lulavim. I also ran the canteen in yeshivah. I caught a baseball at a game and sold it on the train going home for $80. I was restless and creative, and I loved the hustle.

“One of those hustles, if you will, came from Ephraim Vashovsky, who davened in my shul and was involved with boys in Sinai Academy. He asked me to collect money to buy tefillin for them. I went out night after night and raised a few thousand dollars, enough to purchase several pairs of tefillin.
“I got married at 23. At the time, I was planning to be a long-term learner. Well, within a year I was in the music business.

“Music came naturally to me. I loved it. I would write a song or two and sell them, which got me into the musicians’ world. In January of 2008, a friend got engaged and wanted the Freilach Orchestra for his wedding. I called someone for the number, and he told me that the band paid a referral commission. I said, ‘If that’s the case, I’ll call them myself.’ I called and booked the band, and I got the commission.

“One thing led to another. My friend Eli Lax, who had been my dirah-mate, was starting a band with Mutti Weiss, whom people know today as Matt Dubb, and Shabsi Broyde. That became EvanAl Orchestra. Before long, I was booking hundreds of weddings through EvanAl, Rosenblatt Productions and then Blue Melody.

“Looking back, throughout all those years I functioned almost entirely on autopilot. I had no real business plan. I wasn’t thinking about pricing strategy, market share or where I wanted to be five years later. There was almost no intentionality. Today, I spend a tremendous amount of time planning goals and building backward from there.