Herbert Levin, owner of the Chicago Riverfront Antique Mart, takes some dice from his pocket and throws them on a table.
“Why did you do that?” a visitor asks.
“Because life is a crapshoot from here on out,” the 71-year-old Levin says.
It seems a fitting gesture from a man who, over the course of a career that’s touched six decades and several businesses, has never been afraid to take risks. Earlier this year, he decided to sell the Mart, which is one of the largest antique emporiums in the Midwest, according to Irene Taylor, editor of Taylor’s Guide to Antique Shops in Illinois and Southern Wisconsin.
The five-story, 85,000-square-foot building at 2929 N. Western Ave. has housed the Mart since 1991. Now, Levin, a Hyde Park native, is turning the property over to condominium developers. (The sale is not final, and Levin declines to name the potential buyers.)
“I never made money in antiques, ever,” he says. “People always want to bargain down the price. The only way to make money in this business is to have a little shop and carry really expensive stuff, where two or three sales cover your entire overhead.
“I’ve always used antiques to pay for my real estate investments. When the property appreciates, I sell.”
Jim Thompson, former Illinois governor and current chairman of powerhouse law firm Winston & Strawn, has owned a shop within the Mart since 1991.
Thompson says he’ll be “a little sad” to see the Mart sold, but believes the timing is right.
“Herb’s in a hot neighborhood,” he says. “I think we’ll be seeing more housing constructed north along the river because the city has done a good job cleaning it, so this is a very logical place for condos.”
For his part, Levin says he’s always had a knack for sensing neighborhood changes before they occur, and his track record bears this out.
Next spring, Levin plans to open another antique dealership, in a much smaller space near Lincoln and Belmont Avenues. In that store, he wants to “sit and see everything in the shop, plus everyone who walks through the front door. It’s more personal that way.”
Connie Swaim, eastern edition editor of AntiqueWeek Magazine, believes Levin may be swimming against the tide.
“The dominant trend in the industry,” she says, “is toward larger antique malls with multiple hundreds of dealers. Small shop owners are finding it harder to make money in the current climate.”
Swaim adds that some dealers simply use antiques as a tax write-off on their real estate investment.
Today, however, Levin is concentrating on his current project: selling off inventory from the Mart. Many items are reduced until the end of the year; soon afterward, the business will close.
“It’s kind of sad,” says employee Scott Sherwood, who runs the art gallery and book store on the top floor of the Mart. “There’s real history here that no one sees anymore, unless they come to a place like this. But the Mart will continue in a different form.”
Indeed, like Levin himself, the building is just moving on. It started as a Hammond Organ plant in 1924 and was later sold to Advance Transformer Co. Levin acquired the property in 1990.
“The place was just a mess,” he recalls. “I cleaned it up for six months before opening in January 1991.”
It was Levin’s fourth shop, after entering the antiques business in 1982. Before starting the Mart, he ran Roaring 20s Antiques and The Antique Palace on the North Side, plus a vintage jewelry store in Coconut Grove, Fla. Yet, despite his years in the business, Levin does not consider himself an antiques expert.
Birth of a Salesman
“I strictly go by the eye,” he says, sitting in his memorabilia-filled office at the Mart. “A lot of people know a lot more than I do.”
Instead, his strengths seem to lie in other areas.
“Herb’s a good promoter,” says Leslie Hindman of Sotheby’s, who has known Levin for 15 years. “He’s a real Chicago character, the kind of person who’s always willing to try a new idea. And any place like the Mart, where there’s a lot of traffic, generates business and interest for everybody in the industry.”
Another associate, Ed Belcher of Belcher, Dingman, Spaulding Auctioneers in Marshall, Mich., says, “Herb’s a super salesman. He knows what people like and what they’ll buy.”
As a Depression-era child growing up in Hyde Park, Levin was never afraid of work. Before age 10, he was well into his first career, as a shoe shiner. Hustling shines one day at the old Sutherland Hotel at 47th Street and Drexel Avenue, Levin met his most famous customer.
“The Yankees used to stay at the Sutherland when they came to town,” Levin says, “and I shined Babe Ruth’s shoes.”
His sales acumen already in bloom, Levin even coaxed an autographed photo from the Babe. “To Herbie the Kid,” Ruth wrote. “Thanks for all the help.”
At 15, Levin quit school and took a job at Inland Steel, before joining the Coast Guard three years later. He saw action in the Pacific on a fuel-supply ship and was on Okinawa when the war ended in 1945.
Levin returned home that year and set out to make some money. In 1947, at the ripe old age of 21, he bought a used-car lot on Stony Island Avenue, becoming, he says, the youngest dealer in the city. A few years later he got married (“Best thing I ever did, pal.”). The ’50s and early ’60s were heady times for Levin, as he opened several more dealerships — from the South Side to Lake View — and raised three children.
“Right after the war,” Levin says, “it was easy to sell cars, because there was a shortage. Everyone wanted a car.”
Gradually, though, the climate changed. Levin says he could no longer get great products from American manufacturers. The paperwork associated with being a dealer also soured him, and he left the business for good in 1962.
“Every job I’ve ever had, I’ve taken it seriously,” he says. “I didn’t want to become a mediocre car dealer.”
Ever the entrepreneur, Levin stayed in Chicago to operate a string of car-audio stores, called Stereo City, that he owned. Between 1964 and 1976, he ran 13 shops but bailed out when stereo systems became standard on most cars. “That spoiled the installation business,” he says.
Accidental antiquer
Levin got into antiques almost by accident. In the early ’80s, he bought the Eagle Hotel, including some of its furniture, at Belmont Avenue and Clark Street. As part of the rehab work on the property, Levin began restoring miscellaneous pieces. Soon, people began buying the antiques.
“I said, `Hey, there’s a market for this stuff,’ ” Levin recalls, “and I started reconditioning and selling other antiques.”
Levin then moved to Coconut Grove, opened the jewelry business, sold it, and returned to Chicago within three years. He ran Roaring 20s and the Antique Palace until he purchased the Mart in 1990. At the start, Levin leased floor space to as many as 80 other dealers, but cut back on this practice a few years ago. He currently has 10 other dealers.
“I had no control over what (the dealers) sold,” he says. “The place began looking more like a flea market than an antique operation.”
These days, most of Levin’s items come from estate sales; other goods are sold on consignment from collectors. Levin says he’s known for his large assortment of armoires. As proof, he walks through a cavernous room and points out a row of perhaps 50 tall cabinets. “There’s probably another 50 scattered around here,” he says.
Scattered is right. The Mart is a huge space, much of it stocked with furniture of every description. Among his large but dwindling collection, Levin has several gems. One of them is a walnut bar almost 30 feet long (priced at about $7,000). In the Mart’s garage, he keeps a mint-condition 1964 Buick Roadmaster next to a pair of old gas pumps.
When asked how he tracks his inventory, Levin fires back: “I don’t.”
Moving to the book shop, Levin shows a 1655 English guide to medicinal plants. Among the books, though, his favorite is a handmade volume printed by legendary moviemaker Cecil B. DeMille, who circulated just 50 copies to friends.
Designed to look like the Bible, the edition commemorates DeMille’s 1921 silent classic “King of Kings” and contains photos glued, rather than lithographed, onto the pages. Levin acquired the curio from a Hollywood agent. Today, the book can be had for the princely sum of $1,800.
When asked if he loves antiques, Levin shakes his head. “I like dealing with people,” he says. “In this business, you meet all types, from the `picker’ who sells you a mirror, to politicians and celebrities.”
For instance, Levin recounts the time Paul Newman walked into his Coconut Grove store to buy a trinket for Sally Field (the two stars were filming “Absence of Malice” nearby). Years later, when Levin was running the Antique Palace, Newman — this time shooting “The Color of Money” — again dropped by. “He looks at me and says, `What are you doing here?’ “Levin says.
Though Levin had surgery two years ago (he won’t discuss the nature of the procedure), he still works eight hours a day nearly every day. He admits, though, that the operation has slowed him down a little. Even so, until recently, Levin considered taking part in the condo deal that will transform the Mart, but declined.
“I’m tired and need to scale back,” he says.
Weary or not, he’s not about to take to one of his vintage rockers just yet.
“A salesman is a salesman,” he says. “The good Lord gives some people an imagination. I’ll run the new shop ’til I draw my last breath.”
