Ninety years young

ago. Bob follows up with another guiding maxim: "From adversity comes opportunity," he says. Then goes on to prove it.

Adversity started growling in the late '70s, when the first big box-a Handy Andy-threatened to chew up the business that Bob's grandfather had nurtured. Originally a buggy and wagon maker in the Old Country, he came upon an opportunity to buy a building in Wicker Park-back then, a neighborhood where blue-collar workers parked their sedans at a tavern. Today, thanks-or not-to gentrification, those corner hangouts have become sushi bars and the Chevies have been replaced by BMWs-a transition we'll pick up on later (as did Bob).

Grandpa stocked the place with hardware and the merchandise of a general store, then installed his wife and three kids in the rear. Long before his demise in the late '70s, he'd added lumber, recalls Bob, who grew up in the neighborhood and supplemented his school days with stints filling shelves, loading trucks, and gleaning from gramps, his wisest mentor. "Even in his late 90s, we had to chase him out at night. I leamed the business little by little," Bob recalls. "I knew it was my future."

But along came Handy Andy. "Nearby 9OVo of our business was walk-in-small contractors and d-i-yers-and they weren't walking in anymore. I knew we had to change. So I started making cold calls on the other 107o of our business-the commercial accounts: the in-house shops of institutions, factories and hotels. I changed our inventory and stated stocking the materials they needed. They didn't like the grade of wood the yard carried, so I upgraded, and I added hardware and plumbing. Now we were a one-stop shop, and," outsmarting adversity, "our business flipped to 9O7o commercial.

"When we were losing to the home centers, I was still calling on a few small factories, so I decided, 'Let's see who else?"'Bob soon picked up accounts at the likes of Morton Salt and Oscar Meyer, among others.

"I found a hunger for the type of service I was promoting. Here I was, trying to get guys to spend their company's money! They valued service over price, which was just the opposite of the d-i-yers down the block. So with good service and material, price wasn't so important to the contractors I was dealing with. I didn't have to make bids; instead, I developed relationships, had fun! I went after niche markets, such as the entertainment industry, which began using our Styrofoam insulation for making scenery. It helped us weather a lot of situations."

Adaptability again.

"I went after lO}Vo of their orders; I never said no. I just figured out ways to be of service. I'd say, 'Just give me your order and go back to work.' Plus, we offered free, same-day delivery. It was a unique concept then, and it enabled us to develop relationships that have continued 25, 30 years. Now their sons come in.

"Our market is based on repeat business. We don't have to bid for an order; we're allowed an honest mark-up, and they don't kill you over price. You spoil your customerswhich you should," Bob instructs. "Once they place an order with us, there was no going backward after they'd experienced timely delivery, courtesy, and dry wood.

"It's all about service," Bob underscores his message, adding, "Basically, I'm an expeditor-a glorified go-fer. When I started calling on prospects, I'd say, 'I know you buy from ABC. Do they meet all your needs?' I'd take away the hardest items"-the thankless stuff-"and pretty soon, picked up the rest. Business grew by word of mouth, no advertising."

Adaptability showed up another day 10 years ago in the unlikely disguise of one Tracy Merchant. The classy young lady operated her own construction business, for which she utilized her talents as an interior decorator for developers of upscale condos. She walked into Miller looking for special moulding and walked out with a job offer.

After her "You've got to be kidding!" reaction, the idea of making good money by working part-time on commission sounded intriguing. Bob, in turn, was impressed by the 20-something-year-old's "strong sense of self. She was smart, pretty, well-educated, well-traveled, and was doing little contracting jobs for friends." (It didn't hurt that Bob himself had a young daughter with her future ahead of her.)

And, talk about adaptable: "Tracy would call on clients with her Gucci purse and then change into jeans to do measurements. And they'd tell her, 'You're the only one I've gone to who really understands what I'm looking for.' She was received very well: good rapport with customers and driven by a good business model."

Tracy worked part-time from 2002 to 2OO7 , taking off, oh, about 15 minutes in 2006 to have a baby. A week after her Cesarean section, with her infant son in a carrier, she was back on the job-greeted by her customers not with congratulations, but rather, "Where's my doors?"

"I'm probably the first one in lumberyard history to be sitting at a desk, nursing her baby under a Pashmina shawl," laughs the company's president.

That's right: Tracy now holds that prestigious title. She oversees accounting and manages cash flow for the company as a fourth-generation "family" member, says Bob with evident enjoyment. "We finish each other's sentences and eat Thanksgiving dinner together," he declares.

Tracy oversees the operation of three trucks, three drivers, and three outside sales reps, who also serve the showroom that serves as an extension of their contractors' businesses. All three reps are women, and that's no accident. "We've had bad luck with guys," Bob claims-plus, as he's observed, "Times have changed over the past 10 years," crumbling the walls of the Good Old Boys fortress. "Nowadays, many vendors' reps are female, too," he notes.

Fine with Tracy. "I've always been interested in buildings and interiors, and I call on some pretty unique accounts," including the Playboy and Broadway in Chicago entertainment operations. Despite the current downturn, "There's still some building going on in Wicker Park-custom homes and remodeling," says Tracy.

In fact, Bob adds, "There's more business than we can handle," acknowledging that the operation is undercapitalized. "We're operating as if there were a governor on our car," he regrets. To overcome that, "We're looking for a partner.

"Chicago is losing its independent dealers," he mourns. "There are only four left. Several closed down within the past six months, so we need to get out and pick up their business. Why not? There'll always be a place for us-thinss we do better than the boxesl"

Carla Waldemar cwaldemar@ comcast.net