Art Gallery Memories

 ART GALLERY MEMORIES

In the early 70's I was in my senior year of college earning my tuition by working 35 hours a week as a stock boy at Raimi's Curtaiins in the Oakland Mall in Troy, Michigan. I ruptured a disc in my back and waited until I graduated from Wayne State to have the necessary laminectomy. I received a small worker's comp settlement. Subsequently, I moved back to St. Louis to help a friend, Jason Kamil, open his art gallery at Westport Plaza. I worked for 3 weeks helping him move his art from a previous location, unpack, and hang the pictures.

 Unfortunately, he never paid me and I decided to go back to Detroit. At the time I was living with Jason and my best friend Harold Davis came over while I was packing. He knew Jason hadn't paid me and when he spotted a jar full of quarters he suggested I take them as payment for 3 weeks work. I counted them out and they totaled $150. That would amount to $50 a week which wasn't what we agreed upon, but I decided was better than nothing. I left Jason a note indicating I was taking the quarters which totaled $150 since he hadn't paid me for 3 weeks work. Then I left and followed Harold to his aunt's house where he was living at the time.

 My plan was to drive back to Michigan the following day. Harold was using a bedroom in his aunt's finished basement, and I slept on a couch down there. As I got up the next morning I swung my legs over the couch and as I placed my feet on the floor I felt something squishy between my toes and I smelled something really bad. I had just stepped in dog poop! I let out a scream and Harold came out and when he saw me hopping to the bathroom on one foot and what I had stepped in he didn't stop laughing for 15 minutes. That should have been an omen for me that it wasn't going to be a good day.

 After I washed my foot off, showered and got dressed I heard the door bell ring. I told Harold I would get it and when I opened the door a policeman was standing there.  He asked me, "Are you Stuart Cassell?" I answered, "Yes". He asked, "Did you take a jar of quarters from your employer Jason Kamil?" I answered, "Yes" and explained why and that I left him a note. He then told me I was under arrest and handcuffed me. At that time the police were not required to read you your Miranda rights. By then Harold had come upstairs and saw what was happening. On the way to the police station the officer told me, "This is what we call a 'shit case' - morally you're right, but legally you're wrong."

 Harold was studying law enforcement at the time in preparation for becoming a policeman. He knew he needed to convince Jason to drop the jaws before I was formally booked or it would go on my record, not to mention me going to jail. Harold went to Jason's apartment and Jason was afraid to open the door. I should mention that Harold is a pretty tough character and Jason, although he was over 6' tall was basically a wimp. Jason came out on his balcony and Harold "convinced" him that it was in his best interests to immediately drop the charges. He painted a picture for Jason of what my mental state would be when I got out of jail. Jason knew me from childhood and despite my short stature was always properly impressed with my weight lifting physique and general demeanor (I wasn't the sweety that I am now).

 He and Harold drove to the police station where he dropped the charges before they booked me. I had given the arresting officer Jason's jar of quarters, which they returned to him. I spoke with Jason briefly and he agreed to send me my back pay, and to help him remember, I asked Harold to over see the payment, which he did. I got a check for $225, $75 a week for 3 weeks work.

After returning to Detroit, I decided to open my own art gallery, based on the 3 weeks I spent with Jason helping him with his. I figured, why let little things like no prior business experience, no knowledge of art, and insufficient capital get in my way? I knew from working with Jason that he got his art from a wholesaler in the Chicago Merchandise Mart. For a $5,000 deposit, Distinctive Graphics would provide you with $20,000 in inventory. Each week you sent them a check for what you sold, and every month or so order more art.

I offered Harold the opportunity to open an art gallery with me and he was interested. I contacted Distinctive Graphics and arranged to go to Chicago to meet with the owners and deliver a check for the art. Initially, I let them pick out the art, but subsequently, I did the selecting. Harold was unable to move to Detroit for a few months so I handled everything. I signed a lease for space at the Pine Lake Mall in West Bloomfield. The space they provided had a bare concrete floor, but they did partition it for me so I had a back room with a bathroom. I picked out carpeting for the floor, and my father and I installed peg board on the walls of the showroom, and built shelves in the back room for excess inventory. I made the display cubes in the picture and hand painted the gallery name on two sides of a blank lit sign the mall provided. The gallery was called the Stuart Gallery.

Harold came up to Detroit after we opened and stayed with me at my parents apartment. We shared a bedroom that had two twin beds. He got bored and went back to St. Louis 2 months later. We did well at first, selling up to 75 pictures a week. Back then I never let fear or lack of experience stop me from trying anything. I went to an auction at Park West Galleries and a few weeks later started holding my own auctions. I staged shows at the clubhouse where my parents lived, and opened a second gallery in a flea market type mall in Pontiac, MI. I decided I needed to learn a little something about art so I took a class in Art Appreciation at a local community college. Unfortunately, we had a recession in the 70's, not quite as bad as the one we're in now, but sales fell off dramatically and I had to close the gallery after about 2 years.  We still have 15 pictures in our home that came from my art gallery 50 years ago.