Quote of the Day (Ginia Bellafante, on the Long-Term Decline of the Department Store)

“If you are in your 20s, department stores have been dying ostensibly for the whole of the time you have been conscious. ‘Lackluster upon lackluster,’ an analyst at Piper Jaffray described the sector in a New Yorker article in 2003 — seven years before Instagram ignited our scrolling addictions, 16 years before the closure of Henri Bendel, 17 before the end of Lord & Taylor and Barneys. The decline might be traced further back, sometime around 1989, when B. Altman shut down on Fifth Avenue. By then, Bloomingdale’s had been abandoned as an urbane meeting ground in romantic comedy (see ‘Manhattan’), replaced by The Sharper Image (see ‘When Harry Met Sally’).”— Fashion critic Ginia Bellafante, “Out of Step With Their Shoppers,” The New York Times, Feb. 8, 2026

The image accompanying this post, looking north across 60th Street at Barneys New York on a cloudy afternoon, was taken on Apr. 17, 2010, by Jim.henderson.

In the mid-1990s, as part of a larger retail tour of New York, I visited Barneys, along with other members of my company and industry marketing researchers. Somebody noticed that my jacket, bought at a more downscale department store, looked an awful lot like one on the racks. It turned out that the merchandise we saw cost seven times more than what I had paid.

In his 2025 memoir, They All Came to Barneys, Gene Pressman depicts the company he managed with his brother Bob as the height of Nineties glamour. Maybe so.

But from that day nearly three decades ago, I became convinced that the store’s merchandise was overpriced. It was a far cry from the discount men’s suit shop his grandfather had founded. When I read the reports of its demise, I figured that pride goeth before a fall.

I was glad that, unlike many casual observers (and even some retail analysts who should have known better), Ginia Bellafonte’s article didn’t attribute the decline of the entire department store sector solely to the Internet.

A single cause is a convenient explanation for everything, but the department store has withered for several reasons, much like the enclosed malls they anchored for decades. I look forward to an entire book that will trace this devolution with the care it deserves.

Quote of the Day (Christopher Morley, on the Explosive Power of Books)

"Printer's ink has been running a race against gunpowder these many, many years. Ink is handicapped, in a way, because you can blow up a man with gunpowder in half a second, while it may take twenty years to blow him up with a book. But the gunpowder destroys itself along with its victim, while a book can keep on exploding for centuries.”— American journalist, novelist, essayist and poet Christopher Morley (1890-1957), The Haunted Bookshop (1919)

This Day in Film History (Birth of Ronald Colman, Sterling Star of Silent and Sound Eras)

Feb. 9, 1891— Ronald Colman, an Oscar-winning actor who personified courtliness from Hollywood’s silent to sound eras, was born in Richmond, England.

Probably because I was annoyed by what seemed like an unduly stiff performance as an amnesiac war casualty in Random Harvest (1942), I was put off for years by Colman. I changed my opinion after watching his world-weary diplomat in Frank Capra’s adaptation of the James Hilton novel Lost Horizon (1937).

But it was his depiction of brilliant, alcoholic, self-sacrificing lawyer Sydney Carton in the 1935 adaptation of Charles Dickens’ A Tale of Two Cities that finally convinced me that Colman was a sterling talent, well-deserving of his reputation as one of Hollywood’s best leading men of the 1930s and 1940s.

Understandably, the actor saw this as one of the best roles of his career. Not only did he agree to shave off his trademark mustache to play the part, but, with great good humor, he recited his climactic speech from the film whenever Jack Benny visited him on the comedian’s radio and TV shows.

After a half-century, I think I really should re-watch Random Harvest, which enjoys a reputation as one of the finest romantic melodramas of Hollywood’s golden age. 

Colman himself had been badly wounded in the Great War while serving in the London Scottish Regiment (a legendary unit in which actors Basil Rathbone, Herbert Marshall, and Claude Rains had their own harrowing experiences, as related in this 2015 post on the “Sister Celluloid” blog).

The war was as psychologically as physically devastating, as Colman recalled later:

“I won’t go into the war and all that it did to all of us. We went out. Strangers came back. It was the war that made an actor out of me. When I came back that was all I was good for: acting. I wasn’t my own man anymore.”

Undoubtedly, it was Colman’s identification with the traumatized veteran in Random Harvest that helped him overcome an often far-fetched script—and win an Oscar nomination.

The war did not end Colman’s travails. Determined to appear on the New York stage, he initially encountered a long period of unemployment, to such an extent that he was reduced to scrounging for food. (“Figuring out the best way to spend five cents in an automat was an art at which I became adept. Doughnuts were the main standby.”) At last he broke through.

Colman found film to be the real where he would make his mark, however, when director Henry King cast him opposite Lillian Gish in the 1923 silent film The White Sister. The film was so successful that the trio reunited for Romola the following year.

Unlike many silent-film idols, Colman had no trouble adapting to sound. In fact, the new technology enhanced his career because he could take advantage of his distinctive voice: rich, cultured, mellifluous, enhancing his image as an English gentleman.

“Colman only really hit one note with it, a sort of wistful oboe note, but that note was enough if the writing of the picture suited his restrained lyricism,” wrote Dan Callahan in an October 2025 post on his “Stolen Holiday” blog.

No matter what genre he tried—western, melodrama, detective film, romantic comedy—Colman’s gentlemanly persona was tinged with melancholy, a trait of his off-screen temperament. That sense was reinforced early in his career because of a disastrous first marriage.

Colman wed Thelma Raye in haste in 1920, a union he came to rue as, stricken with jealousy at his increasing success, the actress took to stalking him. Increasingly withdrawn under this pressure, Colman was relieved when she sued him for divorce 14 years later. Fortunately his second marriage, to Benita Hume, was longer (20 years, until his death) and far happier.

To the greatest extent possible, Colman tried to live with discretion, so the public knew little of his private circumstances. What it saw onscreen, it loved. In addition to the films I mentioned previously, I also enjoyed him in The Talk of the Town (1942), a comedy in which his straitlaced lawyer risks his nomination to the Supreme Court by aiding an escaped convict whose innocence he comes to believe in.

With his fourth Oscar nomination in 1947 for A Double Life, Colman finally won formal recognition from his peers by winning the coveted statuette, as a Shakespearean actor whose latest role—the jealousy-maddened Othello—begins to mirror his own life.

(A recent biographer of Colman, the prolific Carl Rollyson, has a astute analysis of the actor’s “graceful, literate masculinity” in this Spring 2024 article for Humanities, a journal of the National Endowment for the Humanities.)

Movie Quote of the Day (‘The Lady Eve,’ As a Conversation Takes an Unusual Turn)

Charles [played by Henry Fonda] [speaking of card playing]: “Now you, on the other hand, with a little coaching you could be terrific."

Jean [played by Barbara Stanwyck]: “Do you really think so?”

Charles: “Yes, you have a definite nose.”

Jean: “Well, I'm glad you like it. Do you like any of the rest of me?”— The Lady Eve (1941), screenplay by Monckton Hoffe and Preston Sturges, directed by Preston Sturges

Quote of the Day (W.H. Auden, on Authenticity and Originality)

“Some writers confuse authenticity, which they ought always to aim at, with originality, which they should never bother about.”— English poet-critic W.H. Auden (1907-1973), "Writing," in The Dyer's Hand and Other Essays (1963)

Spiritual Quote of the Day (Archbishop Ronald Hicks, on Being a ‘Missionary Church’)

“We are called to be a missionary Church that takes care of the poor and the vulnerable, upholds life from conception to natural death, cares for creation, builds bridges, listens synodally, protects children, promotes healing for survivors and for all those wounded by the Church, and shows respect for all, building unity across cultures and generations.”—New York Roman Catholic Archbishop Ronald Hicks, Homily at Installation, Feb. 6, 2026

Quote of the Day (Lorraine Hansberry, on Stillness and Thinking)

“Don’t get up. Just sit a while and think. Never be afraid to sit a while and think.”— African-American playwright Lorraine Hansberry (1930-1965), A Raisin in the Sun (1959)

Excellent advice, to which I would add just one corollary: Never be afraid to sit a while, think—and write.

Quote of the Day (Baseball’s Mickey Lolich, on Perceptions of His Weight)

“Throughout my 16 years in the major leagues, whenever things weren't going right, people always looked for reasons. For some, it was 'Maybe they're staying out too late at night,' 'Maybe too many outside interests,' 'Maybe their head's not screwed on right.' For me, it was 'He's too fat.' 'But when I was pitching good, they'd say, 'He's strong as a bull.' ''—Burly southpaw pitcher—and 1968 World Series MVP—Mickey Lolich (1940-2026), quoted by Ira Berkow, “When Fat Is Beautiful,” The New York Times, Aug. 7, 1989

First, all honor to Mickey Lolich, who died two days ago and is fondly remembered—especially by Detroit Tigers fans—for his three gutsy complete-game victories in the 1968 Fall Classic against the formidable St. Louis Cardinals.

The lefthander’s wry comment on how uncharitable—heck, merciless—some fans could be about his weight reminded me of an incident I witnessed with another baseball player.  In 15 seasons in the big leagues, John Mayberry clubbed 255 homers and drove in 879 RBIs, reaching a peak of 34 HRs in 1975 and another 30 as late as 1980.

By 1982, however, the slugging first baseman’s glory days were behind him. Midway through the season, the Toronto Blue Jays shipped him off to the New York Yankees. 

Any hope that the short right-field fence at Yankee Stadium would revive his power proved short-lived, as he hit only eight HRs and, worse, recorded a miserable .209 batting average with the Bronx Bombers.

Why did his numbers decline? Was it the natural consequence of nagging injuries over the years, the slower bat speed that players often encounter with age, or something elsw?

Some had a simple, nasty explanation: his weight. Lolich claimed that during his career, he carried 220 pounds on a 6-ft.-1-in. frame, though some believe that weight was an underestimate.

As for Mayberry: the Baseball Almanac lists his measurements as 6-ft.-3-in., 215 pounds. Other sources note that he’d added five pounds by the time he got to the Yankees, and Blue Jays fan Tom Dakers in a 2016 post on the “Blue Birds Banter” blog claimed that he’d reached 230 pounds north of the border.

That summer with the Yankees—Mayberry’s last in professional baseball—I attended a Yankee game in the mezzanine section with a close relative. Mayberry was in the middle of his prolonged offensive struggle. Each time he flailed and floundered at the plate, we could hear a voice behind us raining down insults, each a variation on “You stink!”

At last, late in the game, with Mayberry striking out again, that voice reached a crescendo in vituperation: “HEY MAYBERRY, IF YOU COULD ONLY BAT YOUR WEIGHT, YOU’D BE THE BIGGEST THING SINCE TY COBB!” (Ty Cobb, be it noted, had a lifetime batting average of .367.)

“I’ve got to see who this guy is!” my relative said. Turning around, we  were surprised to see, several rows behind us, a fellow graduate of our high school. 

He laughed when he noticed us, and we agreed that it was lucky for him that he was so high up in the stands, rather than closer to the field where Mayberry might have taken serious exception to the abuse.

An ideal “five-tool” player is blessed with a consistent ability to hit for average, bang home runs, run the bases with speed, play elite defense, and possess a strong, accurate arm. Notice that “rabbit ears” is not part of this skill set, particularly when it comes to weight.

I have no idea how Mayberry felt about such taunts, but fortunately, Lolich took it all in stride. I hope that he is enjoying as many delicious donuts as he likes in Heaven now—and not gaining an ounce.

TV Quote of the Day (‘All in the Family,’ As Archie Addresses His Bar’s Customers on Super Bowl Sunday)

Archie Bunker [played by Carroll O’Connor]: “Before the second half starts here, I just want to take the opportunity to express my, whaddyacallit, gratitude and depreciation to all my loyal friends and customers here who are here with me today to share with me in watching this magnificent sportin' event.” —All in the Family, Season 8, Episode 16, “Super Bowl Sunday,” original air date Jan. 15, 1978, 78, teleplay by Bob Weiskopf, Bob Schiller, and Johnny Speight, directed by Paul Bogart

One difference between this Super Bowl and the one 48 years ago: “this magnificent sportin' event” concludes the NFL season three weeks later. Way too long, as far as I’m concerned.

Quote of the Day (Ursula Le Guin, on Her Imagination)

“My imagination makes me human and makes me a fool; it gives me all the world, and exiles me from it.”— American science-fiction author Ursula Le Guin (1929-2018), "The Creatures on My Mind" in Unlocking the Air and Other Stories (1996)

Quote of the Day (Alice Hoffman, on ‘The Weather and Love’)

"When all is said and done, the weather and love are the two elements about which one can never be sure."—American novelist, short-story writer, and memoirist Alice Hoffman, Here on Earth (1997)

These matters are, if possible, even more unpredictable this wild winter.

(The image accompanying this post, showing Alice Hoffman at BookExpo in New York City, was taken May 30, 2019 by Rhododendrites.)

Quote of the Day (Annie Sullivan, on ‘Beginning and Failing’)

“No matter what happens, keep on beginning and failing. Each time you fail, start all over again, and you will grow stronger until you find that you have accomplished a purpose—not the one you began with, perhaps, but one that you will be glad to remember.”—Irish-American teacher and disabilities advocate Annie Sullivan (1866-1936), quoted by student Helen Keller, Teacher: Anne Sullivan Macy (1955)

Quote of the Day (Siri Hustvedt, on Wisdom)

“Wisdom really never develops in isolation but only in relation to other people, parents, teachers, family members and, of course, in relation to the broader culture that has hierarchies and values of its own. It's fundamentally rooted in an openness to dialogue. Martin Buber called it the 'between,' the area between people where something new is created. In our neoliberal culture where the 'me' is supreme, thinking about wisdom as something formed between people is really important. Truly wise people are always walking on some form of moral ground that recognizes the other person.  That means having humility, both intellectual and moral.”—American novelist and essayist Siri Hustvedt quoted in “Soapbox: The Columnists—WSJ. Asks Six Luminaries to Weigh in on Single Topic; This Month: Wisdom,” WSJ. Magazine, January 2022

The image of Siri Hustvedt that accompanies this post, made during "The Writer's Life" panel at the 2014 Brooklyn Book Festival, was taken Sept. 21, 2014, by Luigi Novi.

TV Quote of the Day (‘Yes, Minister,’ on a Government Aide’s Job Function)

[A British Cabinet member is annoyed at an aide’s long-winded rambling.]

James Hacker, Minister [played by Paul Eddington, left]: “You're blathering, Bernard.”

Bernard Woolley, Principal Private Secretary [played by Derek Fowlds, right]: “Yes, Minister.”

Hacker: “Why are you blathering, Bernard?”

Bernard: “It's my job, Minister.”—Yes, Minister, Season 1, Episode 7, “Jobs for the Boys,” original air date Apr. 7, 1980, teleplay by Antony Jay and Jonathan Lynn, directed by Sydney Lotterby

Spiritual Quote of the Day (Dr. Jordan Grumet, on Tyrants Vs. Saints)

“The tyrant seeks to bend the world to their will. They apply power externally to remake the environment, people, or culture around them, often in the belief that if they can just change enough out there, they will finally feel whole inside. Saints, on the other hand, reverse this equation. They focus their power inward—working on themselves, healing their wounds, mastering their habits, refining their values. Ironically, it’s through this inward mastery that they end up changing the world more deeply than any tyrant ever could.”— Dr. Jordan Grumet, “Tyrants vs. Saints: The Power That Changes Everything” (“The Regret-Free Life” blog), Psychology Today, Apr. 15, 2025

The image accompanying this post shows perhaps the epitome of a saint in conflict with a tyrant: left to right, a pensive St. Thomas More and a browbeating King Henry VIII (played by, respectively, Paul Scofield and Robert Shaw) in the 1966 Best Picture Oscar winner, A Man for All Seasons.

The crisis that Henry forced on More is a reminder not only of the heavy burden that public officials face in drawing a moral line that arbitrary rulers cannot cross, but also the responsibility that ordinary individuals must maintain in upholding the primacy of conscience.

Quote of the Day (Lewis Mumford, on Life)

“Life is the only art that we are required to practice without preparation, and without being allowed the preliminary trials, the failures and botches, that are essential for the training of a mere beginner.” — American urban planner, sociologist and historian Lewis Mumford (1895-1990), The Conduct of Life: Ethical and Religious Issues Confronting Modern Civilization (1951)