Oliver Pitt loved Chicago and couldn't wait to return after graduation from The Massachusetts Institute of Technology in Cambridge.

He recently purchased—using some graduation money—an 1880s warehouse in Chicago's “near-Loop” area, planning to create loft apartments in the huge old building.

The five-story brick building with broad windows was once used as a manufacturing facility; its hardwood floors, which he had refinished, show the ancient holes where machinery had been bolted to the floor.

He especially loved the way the 12-foot ceilings create a liberating sense of spaciousness and independence.

The building, like several on the block, had been used for warehousing since the 1950s, when manufacturing techniques began demanding more flexible space.

Oliver believes the renovation of this building and the revitalization of the area will be an important contribution to the city.

While New York City actively encouraged residential use of lofts, it was a brand-new concept in Chicago, where current zoning laws restrict residential use above the first floor of loft buildings.

The city had nearly 300 commercial loft buildings containing 25 million square feet of space; the greatest concentration was just north of the Loop in a district loosely defined by the lake, the Chicago River, the North Branch and Chicago Avenue.

Raw space, unimproved since it was built, rents for $0.90 to $1.50 per square foot; space with improvements goes for a maximum of $2.80.

Oliver was engaged to a woman he met in college, Judy Kimbro, who worked on Wall Street in New York.

She clearly and repeatedly stated her desire to have her own career and retain her maiden name after their marriage—an attitude that was causing considerable friction; he wanted a modern wife, but not too modern.

To keep his relationship with Judy alive, he made frequent phone calls and writes letters, but felt a distance growing between them.

He even experimented with sending little sketches and poems over fax machines he bought for each of them, but the transmission took 10 to 15 minutes a page, spoiling the spontaneity and fun of the pictures.

He lived in an apartment purchased by his mother as an “investment” while he completed the renovations of the loft; the eight-room flat had double French doors that opened off his second-floor bedroom, allowing the sounds of the city to rush in.

His mother furnished the apartment with Mission oak she found in a secondhand store; he supplemented her purchases with a large art deco armoire and two Tiffany lamps from the turn of the century.

The apartment was close enough for him to hear jazz wafting from a nearby club where he loved to go at night.

After four and a half years away at M.I.T., he was more than ready to return to the Midwest and his beloved Chicago.

He was also happy to return to a city that understands the need for America to fight for its place in the world, including defeating the communists in Vietnam.

Although he was number 10 in the draft board's lottery, he did not join the military because of his 4-F status, caused by arthritis.

His family doctor provided the draft board with a letter saying he was unable to enter combat without taking his daily medication; the draft board provided him with a deferment without his having to participate in the induction process, where the normal military physical is given.

In Chicago he felt at home, especially since he took a job with Wrigley.

He grew up hearing tales about his famous granduncle, William Wrigley, who was known for his advertising audacity.

Around the turn of the century, Wrigley obtained the number and address of every telephone subscriber in the United States and mailed each one a sample package of gum.

A few years later, with a recession threatening, he increased his advertising, spending $250,000 in New York City alone, knowing his ads would have more impact during slow times.

As important, he focused his advertising on a handful of flavors such as Juicy Fruit, Spearmint and Doublemint, dumping flavors such as peach, blood, banana and vanilla pepsin.

The company spent one seventh of its total income, or about $25 million, on advertising, most of it continuing to focus on a basic message: “Chewing gum is enjoyable and relaxing, a pleasant, inexpensive way of winding down that you can enjoy almost anywhere.”

In his household, which included 26 rooms on three stories near the lake, Uncle Wrigley was a legend.

His mother, heiress to the Wrigley wealth through her mother, loved to tell stories around the dinner table, especially when Oliver's father was present; she didn't think her husband had as much get-up-and-go as her uncle had, and didn't mind if people knew it.

Oliver's office was in downtown Chicago, only a few miles from where he grew up.

Although officially a trainee, he reported each week to his cousin William Wrigley, the 39year-old grandson of founder William Wrigley, Jr.

A third-generation, family-managed corporation, all Wrigley made, they liked to say, is “gum and money.”

Currently, 32 billion sticks of chewing gum disappear into American mouths each year.

In 1970, Americans spent $272.8 million on chewing gum.

Forty-five percent of the gum chewed in America came from Wrigley, which grossed $176 million last year, for satisfying America's “non-addictive habit.”

Ninety percent of the sugar content—and, as such, its taste—is gone in the first 10 minutes.

Early on, Oliver decided that he was not interested in sales or management, but found his calling in college with the emergence of computers; he believed he could help turn Wrigley into a model of efficiency through the magic of computer technology.

He even talked about the day all employees would have computers on their desks; some people at work, particularly those who don't type and don't care to learn, are convinced that this will not be necessary.

The company used General Electric computers, which exited the data processing business, and most of the executives believe that now is the logical time to switch to IBM, which dominates the U.S. market.

Oliver wanted to take another look at a small, $100 million sales company on the West Coast known as Intel.

Unfortunately, Intel's earnings were suffering from too much growth and many in the Wrigley company were convinced that Intel would not be around in a decade, when they would need to update their equipment.

Many believe Sperry-Rand or Control Data will be IBM's primary competitor in the future.

Wrigley attempted to expand its product use into the workplace; a psychological study widely circulated within the company reported that a secretary who chewed gum was 19 percent more efficient than one who doesn't, and tends not to tap her feet or squirm in her chair while typing.

Since Wrigley believed that gum belonged in the office, twice daily a woman walked through the Wrigley building with a tray of gum, encouraging everyone to take a stick or two; on Fridays, employees were permitted to take a couple of packs home for the weekend.

Oliver appreciated the missionary zeal for gum chewing at Wrigley, but has banned gum from the processing room, fearing that a misplaced wad will gum up his always-temperamental computers.

Chicago was known for many things, but Oliver placed its pizza and jazz high on his list of favorites.

A perfect night, especially when his fiancée visited, included a trip to Pizzeria Uno and a swing by a jazz club.

At Pizzeria Uno's, the cradle of Chicago-style pizza, his favorite was a deep-dish cheese and sausage; another favorite restaurant for the couple was Chez Paul, where he asked Judy to marry him.

Opened in 1969 by Bill Contos, Chez Paul offerd first-class service with Wedgwood china, Baccarat crystal, linens on the tables and food worthy of the setting.

The night Judy was engaged, she had terrine of pheasant with pistachios, veal normande and asparagus hollandaise; neither of them can remember what he ate that night.

When she was in town, the next stop after dinner was always music, often to a small jazz club that catered to Chicago natives who grew up enjoying the city's unique style of music.

Chicago jazz grew out of the work of trumpeter Bix Beiderbecke, who was nurtured by an enthusiastic and understanding audience in the 1920s.

Beiderbecke and his band, The Wolverines, started the white jazz movement, which blossomed in Chicago through other groups as well, such as The Austin High Gang.

This was further enhanced by the work of Jelly Roll Morton, who played his piano in the city for nearly five years.

Oliver went to a show at the club near his house several times a week after work, always limiting himself to two drinks before going home.

His father used to take him there, and would often be asked to sit in with the band to play his smooth, sweet clarinet—one of Oliver's fondest memories of his dad.

Two years ago, his father died; he had been drinking and drove his car into a tree while traveling at a very high rate of speed, leaving no skid marks on the road.

Humans have always compulsively chewed non-food items of some kind; down through history they have nibbled on their own fingers and, if agile enough, their toenails.

Betel nut is a favorite in Asia, whale blubber is chewed in the Arctic and chicle in South America.

The ancient Greeks, who were advanced in so many ways, favored sap from the mastic tree.

American colonists munched on spruce tree resins, and later, on sweetened paraffin wax.

H.L. Hollingsworth of Columbia University concluded in 1939 that gum chewing is a form of “retrogression to the entire erotic patterns of infancy” and a means of “suppressing the biting instincts” left over from prehistoric man.

Modern gum is a relatively recent product; according to one legend, General Santa Ana, conqueror of the Alamo, brought chicle to Manhattan in 1869.

Then president-in-exile of Mexico, he was looking for ways to make money and happened to meet Thomas Adams, an American merchant and part-time inventor.

Santa Ana showed Adams how to chew the dried sap of the sapodilla tree that grows in the jungles of the Mexican Yucatan peninsula.

Adams's first efforts at transforming the sap into a useful rubber failed; then, with the help of his 12-year-old son, Adams boiled the chicle until it was soft, rolled it in sugar and thus created Adams New York Chewing Gum-Snapping and Stretching.

Unfortunately, the sapodilla tree, the source of the sap, resists cultivation, preferring to flourish in the jungles of Mexico, Guatemala and British Honduras.

To obtain the sap required climbing 70 feet in the air, where the sap flowed best, all the while avoiding poisonous snakes, malaria-bearing mosquitoes and the chicle fly, which can cause cancerous growths in the ears and nose.

Today most gums have a synthetic base, eliminating the need to brave life-threatening dangers for a stick of gum.

Chewing gum has appeared in a variety of forms through the years, including Love Gum, Fight the Red Menace Gum, Forbidden Fruit and Ox Heart Peppermint gums, and even Peerless Chips by the Texas Gum Company.

Throughout history, the sale of chewing gum has increased when people were deprived or anxious; sales zoomed, for example, during Prohibition, World War II, and after the 1964 U.S. Surgeon General's report linking smoking to cancer.

Today, advertising is being used to increase gum's popularity; Americans are urged to stretch their coffee breaks with gum, and some teachers even offer gum as a reward for good work.

Wrigley prides itself on the fact that its gum has not changed size or shape; a stick of gum today is the same weight it was 70 years ago.

However, the packaging has changed through the years; the air has been squeezed out of the package to get a tighter wrap, so the gum will have a longer shelf life-approximately six months.