Capt. Smitty and his charitable junkshop.

New York is a town full of mercenaries. Most of us are busy chasing a buck and, given the city's economic structure and current situation, that's understandable. Someone around here tells you they're not interested in money, I've always thought, and they must have all the money they need.

That theory went out the window when I met the owner of Silver Arrow Antiques on City Island. With its 1.5-mile main street filled with craft stores, curio shops, used record bins and a marginal restaurant or two, City Island is the Bronx's version of a small and quaint New England seaside village. Off the main drag, there are magnificent Victorian houses, bungalows, ranches and docks, as well as ship-building facilities and fishing and tour boats.

The area's historical ties to the ocean remain intact, and when you walk around, the locals are not exactly fast to embrace you. Like any other small, seaside town, City Island is a community become insular due to the summer invasions. Every resident knows who belongs and who's an interloper.

According to John Cooper, an old sea dog who once lived on a houseboat on City Island, "It is a strange, strange place." Cooper spent years on the island, yet never felt accepted by the locals. "If you weren't born there," he explains, "they had a basic mistrust of you." At least that was the case with residents. The boat people, he grants, were another story. "You would pull up to dock and a stranger would have a beer in your hand and be asking about your boat."

On a brilliant, sunny day, I drove out to City Island and marveled at just how much the island has changed. There's a high commercial turnover, so it's no surprise to discover that the seafood restaurant you frequented one summer is now an apartment complex. I parked and walked along the middle of the island looking at the clapboard houses.

Silver Arrow Antiques is not a recently arrived business: A sign in the window hails the store's 34th year on the island. Outside, the owner, John Schmidt, was setting up a book display. He introduced himself as Capt. Smitty.

With his clear blue eyes, smiling face, shock of white hair and erect posture, Schmidt looks at least a decade younger than the 83 years old he offered up as his age. He's a City Island anomaly: He only owns a store here and lives in nearby Pelham Bay?yet is still accepted by the locals.

When asked about business, Capt. Smitty laughed and shook his head.

"If I was in this for the money I wouldn't have lasted here for 34 years. I don't really care about money. I lose about 10 grand a year running this business. This store is like a hobby for me. I do it because I love it. It's what I always wanted to do. I do it because I love it. All the things I experienced in this store from the joy to the heartbreak is something money can't buy."

As elsewhere, times are tough on City Island.

"The economy has hurt everyone. Stores come and go... Especially since September 11th. And the rents keep going up. To make a living on City Island is difficult."

I walk with Schmidt into his small, crowded store. The walls and shelves are filled with clocks.

"I love clocks," he explains. "I'm also good with my hands and fixing them."

Among the religious icons is a framed copy of the Ten Commandments with an attached arrow pointing to the eighth: Thou Shall Not Steal.

"A woman stole that recently and I had to chase her down the street to get it back."

When Smitty, now a widower, tells me of raising three children and that the kids now live far away, a slightly sad look overtakes him.

"I guess they're all busy with their lives. I see them, but it's rare? We are all on good terms. It really hurts."

Before opening this store, Smitty made his living as a cabinet maker. "I was always good with my hands," he tells me. "God blessed me with that."

He came to City Island as a kid and took jobs as an apprentice.

"I just loved it here? When I got into my 50s, I told my wife I wanted to do something I love for the rest of my life. I wanted to find out about people, so I figured that a good way to do that would be to own a store where I could sell and fix things and meet people. I love artistic things and clocks, and look around?that's what I sell."

To this day, Smitty enjoys his work. But most of all, he enjoys meeting new people.

"The day goes by so fast. Oh, the people I have met. Smart, knowledgeable, anything I'm curious about someone that comes in here knows the answer."

How has the area changed in the 34 years he has been here?

"City Island, every couple of years, has a new generation and is a great improvement over the previous generation. The kids now seem more educated. We used to have a real bad drug problem here?there is still some of that, but things are much calmer now. From back in the 70s, I must've known at least 25 to 30 people who died from drugs. That seems to have stopped. Things look promising."

Walking behind the counter, Schmidt tells me to look around. "There is a story behind everything here," he says.

The selection is staggering in its diversity, with everything from a collection of statues of ancient Asian gods to Middle Eastern jewelry to African sculptures and the expected vases, plates and candleholders. And lots of clocks, of course.

"The heartbreak of this store is when someone dies, the family comes here to sell off the stuff. That is sad."

I spot a set of maracas that I know my kids would like. When I hand my new friend the $15 asking price, he pushes it back. I refuse, he insists.

"They're for your kids. I don't need the money. I love kids. Tell them to enjoy them, and that is payment."

As I leave, I stop and ask Schmidt for his advice to the younger generation.

"If you live a life of truth and integrity," he responds, "you have a life worth living. Having compassion for your fellow human being makes you a success."

I take my leave of the Captain and walk down the avenue, thinking of two signs hanging in the store: One says "If you want it?it's on sale" and the other, "Volume without profit is like eating soup with a fork, you keep busy but you stay hungry."

Despite not showing a profit, I decide that Capt. Smitty may be the most successful businessman I've ever met.