House of Treasures

When part-time Naples resident Dick Portillo began collecting art just six years ago, he did it with the same fervor with which he had once approached marathon running ("Now my knees are shot," he says) and building his business. Over four decades, that business has grown from a Chicago-area hot dog stand (The Dog House) into the Midwest's largest privately owned restaurant company, with more than 3,000 employees and $165 million in sales.

"Everything in excess," he jokes. "I've been that way my whole life." In his homes back in Chicago and in the Naples condominium he loves to visit during three or four months of the year, the results of his passion for collecting are plain to see.

"I like anything old," says Portillo. "So I have a lot of antiques. But what I have here in Naples is really quite a mixture-Egyptian, Oriental, along with some modern art. There's not a lot of empty wall or shelf space in my homes."

While the collector likes to occasionally shift his treasures around ("Nobody places it but me," he says), a recent visit to his waterfront condo provided a glimpse of a collection that's both eclectic and focused. Jim Dine's Lost Boy (Pinocchio) hangs not far from a 2,700-year-old Egyptian sarcophagus in the foyer, while large, expressive paintings by the late actor/artist Anthony Quinn bear witness to the friendship Portillo formed with the equally self-made man whom he describes as talented and energetic even into his 80s. A colorful Picasso oil depicting a rather foppish-looking musketeer hangs over a large black and gold-leafed 17th-century Japanese chest, while a Dine bathrobe piece in fiery shades of red and orange, a Miró lithograph bought in Spain, a Vlaminck still life with ewer and fruit, and a Japanese fighting suit of armor from the 1700s vie for attention nearby.

But much of Portillo's interest lately has centered on the exquisite Oriental pieces he owns, dating from ancient dynasties up to the 1700s. Some are extremely rare, like the pair of wine urns from 475 B.C. with a copper inlay at the neck and base; a fantastic family of dinosaur eggs dating from 85 to 250 million years ago; a Ming beast's head; a marble sculpture of a goddess; painted equestrian figures and an oxcart from the Tang era (619-900 A.D.); and an Earth Spirit, also Tang, that's the only one of its kind in the world.

"That is just unique," Portillo says proudly. "It's a blue glaze so hard to forge it's more valuable than gold. And I love its marvelous details."

Tapestries, two solid gold female masks hanging over the bar, a wall of coins dating from the Romans and before, and a samurai sword are other treasures filling the condo. (One piece that's not an antique: An enormous gong crafted by a contemporary German sculptor with the word "SWEAT" in the center, which speaks to Portillo's own impressive work ethic.)

"I like to put myself back in those earlier eras; it gives me a rush," says Portillo. "It's just so amazing, the patience and the craftsmanship that went into these pieces."

Of course, there's a risk involved in the antiquities market, he admits. "There are an awful lot of fakes out there, more so than in any other time in history," he says. "You have to put your trust in your dealer. I've worked with Michael Teller [an antiquities buyer who also works with the new Gallery Melange on Naples' Broad Avenue], Richard Gray Gallery in New York and Chicago, and Jerry Eisenberg in New York. The arts and antiquities world becomes a small one after a while. You learn pretty quickly who's reputable. I've also read a lot of books on the subject. And I credit my designer, Lisa Lovetto [based in Naples], who I think is the best in Florida, with getting me started in antiquities to begin with."

Portillo's interest in antiques has also extended to his furnishings, many of which bear an Art Nouveau or Art Deco heritage. His dark rosewood Art Deco dining room table with gold trim at the base, purchased from Naples' LaRocco Galleries, suits his collector's desire to possess the rare. "I've never seen one like that, anywhere in the world," he says. Table, chairs and matching sideboard (also from LaRocco) are signed by Christian Krass, who worked for many years with Art Deco master Jacques-Emile Ruhlmann. One of two 1930s Art Deco light chandeliers acquired through Lovetto complements the exquisite table.

In the bedrooms and baths, Portillo's fascination with the Orient again comes into play. On one beautiful 18th-century Chinese cabinet sits a Chinese pot with an impressed pattern of coins to represent a prosperous life now and a good afterlife as well. In the master bath hangs a 19th-century Chinese embroidered tapestry of a blue silk dragon with five claws. "That had to belong to royalty, because only they were allowed to have dragons with five claws," notes Portillo.

The connoisseurship and the collection seem a long way from Portillo's early days back in Chicago. Born in 1939 and spending part of his childhood in a government-subsidized housing project that's now part of Cabrini Green, Portillo was 23, with more than a dozen jobs behind him, when he invested $1,100 in a 6-by-12-foot trailer without a bathroom or running water and opened his first hot dog stand. (To get the water he needed, he ran a 250-foot hose from an adjacent building into the trailer.)

Long days of hard work, with little if any time away from his business, eventually paid off. The Portillo restaurant chain now consists of 29 Portillo's Hot Dogs, one Barney's Ribs, eight Barnelli's Pasta Bowls, one Key Wester Fish & Pasta House & Hemingway Bar, two Luigi's House restaurants and one catering company. No wonder Portillo has received a Chicago Executive of the Year Award, a Service Entrepreneur of the Year Award from Inc Magazine, and been named Restaurateur of the Year by Food Industry News, among other honors.

But when he's in Naples, Portillo tries to just relax in the resort community he loves, grilling outdoors, listening to music, lying in his hammock, and occasionally sailing to the Bahamas on his boat. Whether here or in Chicago, though, being surrounded by his art and antiques, he says, "puts my mind in a different place. Collecting is like a drug."