If Bertrand Goldberg had had his way, the landmark on the Chicago River north of the Loop would be called “River City.” The architect, known informally as “Bud,” would later design the complex southwest of the Loop known as River City. But as planning began in 1959, talking sense into Goldberg was Seena Swibel. Born in 1926, she was the wife of Marina City developer Charles Swibel (1927-1990) and mother of Howard and Larry.

“Bud came up with a bunch of different names and his preference was River City,” says Howard Swibel. “But my mother loved the name Marina City. And she told me she remembers discussing with Bud and insisting that it be Marina City. She liked the idea because the marina was there.” Howard (left), born in 1950, is a partner at Arnstein & Lehr LLP, a Chicago law firm. His brother, Larry, is four years younger and also a lawyer.

William McFetridge invested his union’s pension fund in the development of Marina City but according to Howard it was his father who steered McFetridge toward a housing project. The idea eventually evolved into the mixed-use complex it is today.

The career of Charles Swibel – chairman of Chicago Housing Authority from 1963 to 1982 – was not without controversy. “He lived with negative publicity for decades,” says Howard. “We became very familiar with it. I became a student of journalism where I would read the specific facts and the sentences and I would then interview my father and say, ‘What’s the real truth?’ And I would find out that sometimes it was just flatly made-up. Other times, it was the insinuation or implication that was negative, when in fact they didn’t have any information at all.”

Howard explained how his father negotiated the purchase of an option to buy for $3 million the site on which Marina City was constructed. It was one of the first “air rights” deals in Chicago, development of the empty space above a property. Illinois Central Railroad owned the land and its railroad tracks, though long abandoned, are still visible on the marina level.

The decision to convert Marina City residences from apartments to condominium units, says Howard, was encouraged by Continental Illinois National Bank and Trust Company, which owned the mortgage on the complex. Interest on the mortgage was being paid but progress with the principal was slow. Proceeds from the sale of condo units allowed the loans to be refinanced. Charles ended up owning the commercial property, which he then sold in an ill-fated deal to a limited partnership led by Dallas investor Ellison Trine Starnes, Jr. Howard suspects that Continental identified Starnes as a potential buyer and introduced him to Charles.

Why did he sell the commercial property to Starnes? Says Howard, it was “an offer he couldn’t refuse.”

With no equity investment in it, the selling of the commercial property – in a single transaction in 1983 – was lucrative, such as the $11.6 million paid for the office building. But it was not without heartache as property values sharply declined under the Starnes group. “These people had represented themselves as being savvy operators. And then they got themselves into financial distress.”

Architect Bertrand Goldberg (left) presents a model of Marina City to William McFetridge (center) and Charles Swibel (right). This photograph was probably taken in 1962. Curiously, according to The Art Institute of Chicago, the architectural model of Marina City is missing. Says Lori Boyer, Exhibitions and Collections Manager, “It’s one of the mysteries of the building, as it was sizable and not easily moved or stored.”

Respect for the common man

Howard says what he remembers most about his father is his warmth and charm. “He had amazing charisma. It’s an intangible quality. There were 800 people at his funeral. People came up to me and told me about how special he was. He just had a way of charming people. And they liked to be around him. He had an insight. He understood people’s needs. My father was always the diplomat, the statesman, the go-between. And he was a very proud father.”

Charles Swibel, says his son, Howard, had respect for the common man. He recalls that most visitors to Mayor Richard J. Daley’s office would file past three secretaries without acknowledging them. “They would look straight ahead and they would treat the people as if they were furniture. My father developed a personal relationship with each of these secretaries, which endured after the mayor was dead. They looked up to him because he never looked down his nose, no matter how powerful he became, how successful he was.”

“The converse would be,” says Howard, “he was not blinded by money. He just realized that if you take off the $2,000 suit, that we’re all people.”

An “accident of history” is what he calls his father’s success. “He treated everybody the same. He was comfortable with people. He loved people.”