Iconic Jerusalem T-shirt and army surplus shop Mr. T closed its doors this week after nearly 30 years in operation.
Mr. T was well known to locals and tourists alike as both a retail shop and hangout with a cool rock and roll vibe. Owner and California native Jerry Stevenson, who is retiring, took over the Mr. T shop in the late 1970s on Jerusalem’s well-known and well-trod Ben-Yehuda Street.
“I was working for the Israel Broadcasting Authority for about 10 years, but the money wasn’t that great so I bought this T-shirt shop and expanded it,” he said.
Stevenson, 65, proved himself to be an adept businessman and marketer as he forged connections with youth organizations in Israel and abroad, ensuring that a stop at Mr. T would be on the agenda for any visit to Jerusalem. He also drew on his broadcasting experience in creating a series of custom music programs, broadcast in-house, which featured the latest rock as well as jazz and classical music.
His shop soon became a destination and hangout for synagogue and tour groups from abroad, soldiers, followers of the Grateful Dead, bikers, celebrities and more.
“There was nothing like a summer at Mr. T,” he says. “It was just amazing. There was a line of people around the block who wanted to get in. We had to have someone at the door.”
A native of Los Angeles, Stevenson also had a strong connection to the Bay Area. His uncle owned a pawnshop in San Francisco’s Tenderloin, and as a youngster, Stevenson spent many a vacation helping out in the store.
“My uncle opened the shop in 1946,” says Stevenson. “He had been on the Bataan death march, so he called the store, Steve’s Bataan. We would have to push the drunks out of the way to open in the morning. It was a disgusting-looking store but for me it was this romantic place.”
It also planted the seed of an idea for an army/navy surplus shop after he moved to Israel in 1966. He had gone there to volunteer for a year, but fell in love with the country and decided to stay. “I wish I could say it was Zionism or religion,” he notes, “but it wasn’t. I just felt comfortable living in Israel.”
After working in broadcasting for several years, Stevenson took over the modest T-shirt store opened by fellow transplant and San Francisco native Elliot Steinberg. “There wouldn’t be a Mr. T without my uncle’s pawnshop or without the support of Elliot,” says Stevenson. “He was amazing all through the process.”
Mr. T was successful, but it also drew its share of visitors from what Stevenson calls the “weirdness magnet” of downtown Jerusalem. “The bums and homeless would come in and just hang out. All sorts of things happened … maybe it was the music or people just got excited in the summertime. We had a lot of fights in the store,” he admits.
As Mr. T became well known, visiting politicians and dignitaries began frequenting the shop. Stevenson recalls a visit by Laura Bush (during the time when George W. Bush was governor of Texas), who perplexed him by insisting on bargaining for a “$6 T-shirt” even though she was a “super-millionaire.”
During his time in office, former Israeli President Yitzhak Navon and his young son were frequent visitors, and Menachem Begin’s granddaughter worked at Mr. T for a time. During a visit to Israel by then-President Bill Clinton, Stevenson was asked by White House officials to design a T-shirt to commemorate the trip; a framed copy of that shirt, signed by Clinton, hung in Mr. T for many years.
Stevenson’s most difficult moment came in 1997, when a coordinated series of suicide bombings on Ben-Yehuda completely destroyed Mr. T, along with some neighboring businesses.
“That happened in the afternoon,” he remembers. “I had gone home to take a break, and there were two young men working in the store. We never watch television in the afternoon, but for some reason my daughter had turned on the TV. I was resting, but I looked, not really paying attention, and I saw my store, blown up on television! I asked myself if I was dreaming this thing.”
At the time, Mr. T was decorated with camouflage netting in the front window, which blocked the flying glass from the explosion and probably saved the lives of the two workers. Five people were killed and nearly 200 wounded in the explosions.
“Because of the security, I didn’t get back into the store until after three hours had passed. We worked all night to clean up the store and fixed the glass. We were the only store to reopen the next day. I wanted to make a personal effort, and statement, that we could open up after the bombings. That was an experience.
“I have to say, the city was fantastic. They had sociologists and psychologists there, and people from Bituah Leumi [the National Insurance Institute]. This was when [Prime Minister Ehud] Olmert was mayor, and I am not an Olmert lover, but he and the city were wonderful during this period.”
More recently, during the second intifada, tourism dropped to nearly zero and those tour groups that did come avoided Ben-Yehuda. Stevenson took the difficult step of relocating Mr. T to a more secure location inside the Inbal Hotel. He says business there has been good (and improving) and that economic factors did not weigh in on his decision to close the shop and retire, only that “it was time.”
“Well, the first two weeks I’ll be at the beach until I get bored,” he says when asked about his future plans. “I’ve become a member of the amateur theater company in Tel Aviv… I’ll probably do some volunteering as well.”
He also did some housecleaning. About 80 percent of the Mt. T inventory was donated to Hadassah Hospital, the rest to an institution for mentally challenged youth.
Even though he is closing his shop, Stevenson says he is considering selling the Mr. T operation, but only “to the right person.”
J. staff writer Dan Pine contributed to this story.