When he heard the news, Jeff Levinson decided to pay a final visit.
When Levinson recently received word that Heads Together is closing, he drove from his Cleveland home to the Squirrel Hill landmark he owned for nearly half of its memorable three-decade run.
"I went back to collect some mementos," he said Tuesday.
Levinson retrieved the old sign that hung outside the entrance, several plaques Heads Together won as the city's best video-DVD rental store -- and, of course, a few of the many difficult-to-find movies the place was famous for stocking.
Don't get the idea that this is the tale of the impending passing of one of the last independent video stores in the city. Heads Together, now holding a going-out-of-business sale, is considerably more than that.
For 30 years, Heads functioned as a pop culture emporium, a funhouse mirror of sorts reflecting a variety of tastes in various recreational pursuits -- even when the image wasn't particularly pretty.
That was especially true during the shop's original incarnation in the late 1970s and early '80s as a virtual one-stop shop for the stoner crowd.
From its original location in a musty basement across from the Murray Avenue Giant Eagle, Heads specialized in LPs, movies, Chong-worthy glass bongs and an impressive assortment of completely tacky waterbeds.
The business model would not be successful indefinitely.
Waterbeds went out of style -- partly because of maintenance and motion sickness issues, but primarily because they're tacky.
Water pipes were outlawed, and vinyl LPs went the way of the pterodactyl.
That goes a long way in explaining how Levinson, 49, was able to buy the bankrupt business in 1988.
Soon after, his mother Toba Levinson moved her neighborhood bookstore, The Bookworm, into the space formerly occupied by the waterbeds. Magazine racks supplanted the drug paraphernalia, and Jeff Levinson focused on the video business.
"We carved out a niche for ourselves as an independent (video store) that did things different from the big boys," he said. "I have wonderful memories of building relationships, watching people's children grow and creating a good environment that had people revisiting the store."
Levinson sold Heads in 2002 to Dee Sias, who two years ago moved it to the vast second-floor Murray Avenue space also occupied by Jerry's Fine Used Records.
Sias, who didn't respond to interview requests, made a go of it for seven years. She lasted longer in the neighborhood than several chains, including Blockbuster and West Coast Video.
But this is the age of the ubiquitous Redbox, which provides $1 movies rentals at more than 12,000 locations, and Comcast OnDemand. It's the age of Netflix, which allows the online viewing of some of its rented offerings.
Heads' method of video delivery seems as antiquated as the LP.
"I'm saddened that the place is closing," Levinson said. "But I can't say I'm surprised."
