Jim Levee gets mentioned in this article on hangers-on and groupies. While I find his behaviour odd and verging on creepy the players, their families, and the WTA were happy to play along because none of them wanted to say no to attention, gifts, and money.
"Cubs, woo! Cubs, woo! Cubs, woo!" This is the asthmatic cuckoo clock of a cheer that Ronnie Wickers wheezes every 17 seconds or so at every Chicago Cub home
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THE GROUPIE
The cadaverous figure lurking around the women's tennis tour is a middle-aged millionaire who loves to throw money at other millionaires. His name is Jim Levee, and he buys the affections of players with gifts of cash, jewelry, cars and attention—all for the chance to sit in the players' box and be seen. Tennis is the sport of sycophants, and Levee sets the pace.
Levee made his money the old-fashioned way: He inherited it. A scion of the Annenberg publishing family, he hovers around top-ranked Monica Seles and "sponsors" at least six other women players, including stars Arantxa Sànchez Vicario, Conchita Martínez and Mary Joe Fernandez. He calls them "my girls."
Levee adopted the women's game as a grand and expensive obsession in the mid-1980s. A former teaching pro at a Florida country club says Levee offered him $50,000 to recruit a half dozen prospects. Levee would cover the players' coaching, travel and living expenses; in return, he would receive 40% of their tournament and endorsement earnings. The pro, who wishes to remain anonymous, put together a list of candidates. Levee eliminated one because she was too heavy. "I asked Levee if he wanted models or tennis players," the pro says. When Levee said he would bankroll travel only in the U.S., the pro walked out on him. "He changed the rules and made me look like an idiot," the pro says. Levee paid him only $2,000 and did not sponsor any of his recruits.
Levee angrily denies the pro's allegations and says he found his first protègèe, Steffi Graf, on his own in 1986. He courted her the way he courted his latest beneficiary, Karina Habsudova, a 19-year-old Czech ranked 67th in the world. Habsudova noticed earlier this year that Levee kept popping up at her matches. "I didn't know if I should be afraid of him," she says, "so I asked another player." The player told her, "He supports Arantxa. He's definitely worth knowing."
He finally pounced last August at a tournament in Montreal. Levee took Habsudova on a shopping spree and offered to spring for her coaching. "It's very hard to make friendships with other players," she says. "But I can count on Jim as a friend. He roots for me and cares for me. I'd like him even if he didn't give me money. I get lots of love from him."
What does Levee want in return?
"I don't expect sex from my girls," he says. "I do expect a birthday card, a Christmas card, a phone call or two, a guest pass and a win." Though Levee insists he has no hidden agenda, others aren't so sure. "He wants to be very close to players, which is impossible," says Juan Núnez, coach of former Levee-ite Natalia Zvereva. "He demands their time. And when they don't go along with him, he becomes their worst enemy."
Which is precisely what happened between Levee and Graf. In '86 he began showing up at her matches all over the world. He bought her a Porsche before she could even drive. Though Steffi's father, Peter, politely refused that gift, Levee soon became an accepted accessory at her matches. He bombarded her with fur coats, jewelry, clothes, sports cars and $200,000 in cash. "I would die for Steffi Graf," he said then. "She is the only person in my life who has lived up to all my expectations, and that includes relatives, close friends, even my former wife." He called Graf "God's child" and yelled "I love you!" to her during changeovers.
By 1989, Levee's ardor had cooled. He switched his allegiance and cash to the Seles camp. But he didn't go quietly. When Seles beat Graf in the final of the 1990 French Open, Levee taunted Steffi and Peter by screaming "Number One!" and pointing toward Monica.
The next year, while Steffi was suffering the worst defeat of her career in the French Open semifinals against Sànchez Vicario, Levee and Peter scuffled in the stands. As Peter was leaving the players' box during the final game of the first set, Levee, who had cheered every point lost by Steffi, said, "Monica is Number One, and this is why she's Number One." Furious, Peter bopped Levee on the head. One wag called it "the most accurate Graf backhand of the day."
As Peter walked away, Levee rose from his seat and shouted at Steffi's coach, Pavel Slozil, "Wail until Wimbledon! I'll have a bodyguard, and he'll break Peter's legs." Three weeks later Levee showed up at Wimbledon with two bodyguards. It was there, he says, that Steffi's brother, Michael, "smiled at me in a threatening manner. I feared for my life." From then until the end of 1991, whenever Levee attended a tournament in the U.S. in which Steffi was entered, he obtained a restraining order to keep Peter's fist and Michael's grin away from him.
In conversation Levee sometimes sounds like a lawyer. And he did graduate from the University of Minnesota Law School in 1969. He often seems very smart. But there's a skittish, trampled quality to him: During the women's final at this year's U.S. Open, which pitted two of his protègèes, Seles and Sànchez Vicario, against each other, Levee shifted in his seat with the jerky head motion of a parakeet sidling on its perch. Around his fingers was a tortured daisy chain of rubber bands; at his side, Sànchez Vicario's mother, Marisa. Across the court Levee's fiancèe, Jill Genson, a designer of awnings and canopies whom he met through a dating service, sat with Seles's mom and dad, Esther and Karolj.
Of all of Levee's current girls, he moons most over Monica. When he speaks of her, he sounds like a smitten schoolboy: "I call her Miss Monica because she is so young, so clever, so cultured, so classy, so kind. We have a fun time together." Seles describes Levee as "just a friend. He is very good at cheering for me. I always hear his voice."
Levee doesn't seem threatened by the prospect of Monica's having a boyfriend. "I love it because it's normal, and I love anything normal," says the man who travels to events with both his fiancèe and his ex-wife, Deborah Levee, in tow. "The class goes on, and I sometimes feel like Mr. Chips. I try not to look at myself as just a cashbox. I'm a psychologist, a morale booster, a surrogate father."
"Jim has a heart as big as the world," says Patty Fendick, who drew an allowance from Levee for three years. "He even saved my life." When she developed a blood clot four years ago at a Florida tournament, Levee leased a Learjet to fly her to a specialist in California.
He can be a demanding dad. "I pay for performance," he says. "The better you do, the more money you get." Perform poorly, and you risk being disinherited. When Fendick's ranking dropped precipitously last year, Levee dropped her. "Patty hasn't spoken to me since," Levee says. "She probably thinks I'm a bastard. I still love her, but I'm sure she resents me."
"Resent him?" says Fendick. "If someone gave you a gold Rolex, diamonds, a Mercedes and 30 grand a year for three years, would you resent him?"
The Women's Tennis Association does. Levee had pledged $125,000 to the Special Olympics and other WTA-sponsored charities, but he withdrew the offer over what he calls a "WTA conspiracy" against Seles. "Monica thinks a lot of the players are envious of her, and she's right," Levee says, his voice raw with anger. "They smile at her face, but when her back is turned, they stick their knives in."
Which pretty much sums up the consensus on Levee. "His girls are just using him," says one Top 10 veteran. "They take the cars and the money and laugh behind his back. It's very sad and dishonest."
That doesn't faze Levee. "If some girls think I'm a fool, it's their loss," he says. "Fifty percent of the players think I'm the best thing that's happened to women's tennis. The rest think I'm the worst. They're jealous because I'm the game's white knight." Levee argues that he's no more of a parasite than anyone else on the tour. "Who doesn't take something from these girls?" he asks. "I'm the only one who doesn't ask anything from them, but I get everything from them."
And what exactly does he get? "A frozen moment in time," he says. "This is not like a normal love affair with a woman that can be up, down, over and done. This romance will stay with me forever. All I desire is to be associated with winning, to be part of a victory."