/-- Lebowitz • • Norm ,Lebowitz S /- /-' A private investigator reflects on a career of sleuthing. JULIE EDGAR STAFF WRITER he was just a toddler when her mom and dad bitterly divorced. She never saw her father again. But at the age of 35, with the assistance of pri- vate investigator Norman Lebowitz, she fi- nally began an all-out search and found her dad living on his farm in northern Michigan. He, it turns out, had been look- ing for her, too. After initial contact by Lebowitz, she enjoyed a long-awaited reunion with an ex- tended family that, in addition to her dad, in- cluded cousins, aunts and uncles. Her life has started anew. This is one of the more recent and more re- warding cases Mr. Lebowitz, 70, has experi- enced in his 40 years as a licensed private detective. Of the nearly 1,100 private in- vestigators in the state of Michigan, Lebowitz is one of only a handful of Jewish investigators. He knows of just two others in the area. His clients tend to be Jewish referrals from the commu- nity. Hunched behind thick-lensed, oversized glasses, complete with flip-down sunshades for instant incog- nito, Lebowitz dragged long and hard on his stub of a cigarette and reminisced about some of his more memorable cases. "Much of the time, I found myself in a no-win sit- uation," he said, "especially in divorce and surveil- lance situations. If I found out something, I was the bad guy. And if I found nothing, I was accused of not doing my job." These days, Lebowitz, a resident of Livonia, prefers the "missing person" cases, especially locating bio- logical parents. He tracks down leads, runs names and birthdates through a national computer registry and scans old obituaries. "Anyone can be found," he said. "There's no way to get lost forever." One touching story involved a woman from Boston who was adopted 50 years ago and asked Lebowitz to locate her birth parents who were from Detroit. He remembers calling her and telling her he had bad news and good news. The bad news was that he found her parents, but both were deceased. The great news was that she had three brothers and a sister who never knew she ex- isted and were anxious to meet her. All of the siblings lived in Redford and they invited Lebowitz to the emo- tional reunion at Metro Airport. "It was a grand party," Lebowitz said. Sometimes the outcome is not so predictable. Lebowitz is working with a 33-year-old client who nev- er knew his father. Unfortunately, when they initi- ated the search, Lebowitz ran into dead-ends, because the client's dad never paid his rent and was evicted from several dwellings. Finally, he found some old di- vorce records and traced him to a location in Michi- gan. Lebowitz advised the son that his dad's reputation was sketchy. Not one to mince words, Lebowitz de- scribed the father as "basically a bum." To this day, the son, an affluent professional, has not contacted his father. One of Lebowitz's favorite stories centers around a 65-year-old widower who longed to locate his high school sweetheart. Lebowitz found the happily mar- ried grandmother in California and she agreed to meet her old flame. "Both of them were thrilled," said Lebowitz. "She came to Southfield to see him and he has gone out west to visit her. They talk about old times and have a fast friendship." Lebowitz began his career 50 years ago working for a collection agency. It was there that he started look- ing for "skips" and serving papers. After 10 years, he started his own detective agency. It's been a long haul in the super-sleuth business. He's been attacked with a machete, he's carried a con- cealed weapon and he's been witness to some pretty unbelievable exploits, including those of the rock band Led Zeppelin, which he was assigned to bodyguard. But he's only had to pull his gun once and he's nev- er had to shoot anyone. "Those hot-shot PIs [private investigators] like you see in the movies ... they don't last," said Lebowitz. "You've got to stay cool and stay in the shadows. No one should know who you are." With that, Lebowitz flips down his shades, lights up and searches out the next lead. 111