The opportunity to confront this question came about, again, through one of the apparent accidents of life, which I identify under the rather occult heading of “attractiveness.”
Without Jack Pritzker there could have been no move to Michigan Avenue. Jack and his wife, Rhoda, came into our lives at a cocktail party and became close friends. Rhoda is English by birth and wears her charm and dignity like a delicate mystery. She has a gift for seeing and has written wonderful articles as a correspondent for British newspapers. Jack, also, has the effortless manner that stems from a quality of mind. He is as unlike me as any man can be: impassive, almost secretive, yet I have never known a more comfortable man to be with. He is a lawyer with large interests in real estate and a quiet passion for being a mover behind the success of others. He will not forsake you when the going is rough, but in his relations he holds to a fine line between friendship and duty—and holds you to this line also. I had already experienced the danger of the kind of benefactor who tends to take over your life for you but with Jack Pritzker there is never this danger. He prefers to see you make it on your own. If you are beset by circumstances which you cannot control, he is there; but if you are merely waiting for something to happen, you can expect nothing but the criticism you deserve.
This gentle, quiet man, tough yet sentimental, absorbed in his business, yet somehow viewing it as an experiment with life rather than a livelihood, devoted to concrete matters and the hard world of finance and power, yet in conversation concerned only with the breadth of life and the humanness of experience, provided a scarcely felt polarity that gave direction to my often chaotic forces.
When I heard that Jack had a financial interest in a medical office building under construction on Michigan Avenue, I asked to rent one of the street level stores. It was not a matter of seeking financial assistance—it was entirely enough to be accepted as the kind of “prestige tenant” normally sought for such a location. But when Hy Abrams, my lawyer, went to see about the lease, he reported that Jack remarked, “If you think I’m letting Stuart in this store to see him fail, you are mistaken. I have no intention of standing by and watching him and his family tenting out in Grant Park.”
But even though someone might be keeping a weather eye on my survival, I had to face up to my own money problems. It is madness to go into business without a bankroll under the mattress. I thought I could see my way to making it on the Avenue, but where was the cash outlay coming from for fixtures, additional stock, everything? Not even my reformed accountant could prepare a financial statement that would qualify me for additional bank loans.
There was a way, however, and it was opened to me by a client who, as a vice president of the First National Bank of Chicago, was about the last person I thought of approaching with my difficulties. I knew about banks by now, although I had somewhat revised my opinions about the personal limitations of all bankers. In fact, it was always a source of genuine pleasure to me when this particular banker, a tall, handsome man with greying hair and a fine pair of grey eyes to match, came into the shop.
When I told him of my projected move, it was natural for him to ask how I was financing it. I told him I didn’t know, but I was certainly going to have to find a way.
“May I offer a suggestion?” he said.
We sat down by the fire, and he told me first what I already knew: that normally when a business man needs extra money, especially for a cyclical business dependent on certain seasons, he will go to the bank for a short-term loan, say for ninety days. But in New York, he told me, there is a large department store that finances its own improvement and expansion programs. Instead of going to the bank, the store goes to its customers. My friend suggested that I do the same.
“Here’s how it works,” he said. “Write a letter to your hundred best accounts explaining what you hope to do. Ask them to help by sending you one hundred dollars in advance payment against future purchases. In return, you will offer them a twenty percent discount on all merchandise purchased under this plan. And of course they may take as long a time as they wish in using up the amount they have advanced.”