But it is a surprise that two decades later, Hirsh himself is reviving Levis (say it LEV-iss), a concept he had called dated.
Nostalgia is a powerful thing, especially in the food business, where childhood memories are welded. You can buy a burger again at Gino's. The Horn & Hardart name is out there. Someone bought the Bookbinder's soup line and is pushing varieties trendier than clam chowder.
A couple of years ago, Hirsh began producing all-beef "Levis hot dogs" and selling them to takeout shops; he said he had about 20 accounts.
The wholesale business inspired him to revive the idea of selling franchises, and he decided to open the first store himself.
Hirsh found a former ice cream shop next to a tire store on traffic-whizzing Old York Road in Abington.
Neon - in the form of a window sign, not Levis' two-story iconic monster that for decades glowed orange in the night sky near South Street - lures you inside. Then that hauntingly smoky hot dog aroma hits.
But the Levis hot dog is not a Levis hot dog. At least not the same Levis hot dog anyone under 60 or so years old could possibly remember.
They're hearty, bursting with juiciness and possessing a pleasing snap.
Hirsh, with characteristic bluntness, said Levis' wiener recipe had been adulterated over the years - so much so that the last batches of so-called Levis hot dogs were no better than cheap franks from the supermarket.
Hirsh said he found Levis receipts for meat dating to more than a half-century ago. Back then, Formost - a long-ago South Philadelphia kosher butcher - produced the hot dogs. While reviewing the documents, Hirsh said, "I could see where they started cheapening up the cuts of meats." By the time Levis closed in 1992, "they were using beef trimmings."
