Gentleman from State Street

Chicago's $5,000,000 clothing store, The Hub, Henry C. Lytton & Co., last week took a 20-year lease on a South Side building where it will house its second city branch after the war. Other Chicago merchants did not think this such staggering news, but what did interest them was the man who signed the lease: Henry Charles Lytton, almost 99 years old.

Henry Charles Lytton was busy at his first job, in a dry goods store in his native New York City, before the Civil War was two years old. Three years later, he went off to the frontier in Michigan, opened a store which he ran for 15 years before he went broke.

By 1887, he had recouped his losses, managed to save $12,000. Then he had leased his Chicago corner, spent $2,500 on fixings, $3,500 on advertising, and set out to make a million. He did just that. By 1912, the business had prospered so that Henry Lytton was able to move across the street into the new, $2,500,000 Lytton Building.

Life Begins at 85. From then until 1932, Henry Lytton's luck was all good. He and his manager-son, George, had sold their stores to Fashion Park Associates, Inc. in 1929 for stock then worth $7,000,000, and the prospect ahead was for rest at last. But by 1932, Fashion Park had overexpanded, and in reorganization Henry & Son got their own stores back. Then George died. At 87, Henry Lytton went back to work.

Last week, the man who has survived four wars, five financial panics and the Chicago fire was still pulling his weight. The yearly volume of his three Hub stores in Chicago's suburbs, plus the 18-story downtown Hub and five concessions, was $14,000,000; the profits, before taxes, $591,000; after taxes, $232,582.

Henry Lytton was always a little tired, and expected to be; he only worked a 2½-hour day. And he had to watch himself (he gave up smoking at 81, drinking at 92). But he kept busy. On the day he signed the lease, he had also to go across the hall to see capable, 36-year-old Willard Cole, Hub executive Vice President and Lytton's probable successor. Then there were ads to be criticized, brief conferences with store executives, additions to the list of invitations to his 99th birthday party (July 13).

When all this was done, old Henry Lyt ton, who was once a baritone on a Mid west gaslight circuit, felt he ought to sing a little. His voice was still clear, although it shook a bit. As his secretary helped him on with his coat, he recalled the words to a song he had sung 65 years ago with a road company in Grand Rapids: "Wake, lady, wake! The hour of love draws near. . . . Wake, lady, wake. . . ."

Leaning heavily on his cane and shuffling toward the door, Henry Lytton sang the words again. And he sang on key.