Quote of the Day (Sir Ben Okri, on Museums As ‘A Tremendous Force for Public Good’)

“The best way to spend £20 is a visit to a good museum, most of which are still free in Britain. Long may this continue. It is a tremendous force for public good. I recommend that you donate half of your £20 to the museum after such a visit, to help them with their work. A pot of tea and some biscuits are all you need to restore yourself before heading back out into the mild hallucination of the outside world.” — Nigerian-born British poet and novelist Sir Ben Okri, "The Aesthete: Ben Okri,” The Financial Times, Aug. 1, 2026 (“How To Spend It” supplement)

Unlike Britain, most U.S. museums charge admission fees. But Sir Ben’s point remains well taken: museums are a “tremendous force for public good” in terms of what they can teach visitors. Let’s keep it that way.

Exhibit Review: ‘The Royal Family’ of Broadway, Hollywood—and Fort Lee, NJ

In the late 1920s, when the George S. Kaufman-Edna Ferber comedy The Royal Family played to packed audiences at the at the Selwyn Theater, audiences knew that the group in the title were not Britain’s Windsors but an American acting dynasty strongly resembling the Barrymores. When Paramount Pictures adapted the play for the big screen in 1930, the studio felt it best, considering the many non-theater aficionados outside the Big Apple, to tack “of Broadway” at the end of the title.

Over the last century, with siblings John, Lionel, and Ethel filming one classic after another—and with John’s granddaughter Drew making her own contribution to the industry as an actress-producer—the Barrymores could just as easily be called “The Royal Family of Hollywood.” Now, with an exhibit about the multi-generational thespians now running in a film center named for them in northern New Jersey, they could also be labeled “The Royal Family of Fort Lee.”

In a late January blog post of mine that related my discovery of the Barrymore Film Center, I promised that I would discuss a first-floor exhibit on the family that runs through the end of March. It really is must viewing for anyone interested in film and theater history—even, more broadly, New Jersey and Fort Lee history.

The exhibit curators have scoured far and wide for photos, posters, sculptures, props, and other materials associated with John, Lionel, and Ethel Barrymore. Separate walls tell the story of each sibling—all loaded with talent, looks, and money, but also with more than the normal share of offstage drama that actors often encounter.

The dynasty started not with this trio but with John Drew, who became an actor and theater manager after emigrating from Ireland in the 1830s. In turn, his daughter Georgiana, herself an actress, wed Herbert Blythe, an Indian-born British stage actor professionally known as Maurice Barrymore. It is he who, in effect, became the patriarch of “The Royal Family.”

A talented comic actor who became one of the first Broadway stars to star in vaudeville, Maurice did well enough financially to buy a summer cottage in what is now the Coytesville section of Fort Lee, several blocks from the film center. (Despite ardent efforts by film buffs, that house was demolished 22 years ago.)

As the museum chronicles, Fort Lee, because of its proximity to Broadway, the Hudson River and Palisades, became the de facto birthplace of the American film industry. It’s appropriate, then, that three of Maurice’s acting progeny, all of whom spent much of their youth in the town—Lionel, Ethel, and John Barrymore—came as close as you can get to being present at the creation of this narrative art form.

(Oddly enough, though the three had more than 300 screen appearances among them, they only appeared together once on the big screen—the 1932 film Rasputin and the Empress. A poster for that movie, part of the exhibit, is the image accompanying this post.)

Moviegoers of the past few decades are likely to be familiar with the four decade career, as actress, producer, talk-show host, and gossip-page fixture, of Drew Barrymore. But her triumphs and travails pale in comparison with the great sibling triumvirate who dominate the Barrymore Center exhibit.

Still, you’ll likely be in for something of shock when you first enter the exhibit room to see a photo of a young woman who bears a startling resemblance to the current best-known member of the family. But it’s not Drew but Ethel Barrymore—a similarity all the more surprising because Ethel was Drew’s grandaunt rather than, more directly, her grandmother.

Among the items that depict Ethel here are a photo, a portrait, a bust of the actress, and a poster from her first movie, The Nightingale, shot in 1914 right in Fort Lee.

Unlike her brothers, “The First Lady of the American Theater” worked primarily on the stage, as she followed in the tradition of her grandfather, John Drew, as star and manager of Broadway’s Ethel Barrymore Theater, which the Shubert Organization created as a vehicle for her.

A guide at the museum told me that her favorite member of the family was Lionel Barrymore, and the artifacts on display make a compelling case for his versatility.

Then in their toddler stage, films in the silent and early talkies era left Lionel and many other denizens of Hollywood skeptical about their cultural potential—even when, as in his case, he went behind the camera to direct, rather than his usual position in front.

(He is best known, of course, for his performance as miserly Mr. Potter in the Yuletide classic It’s a Wonderful Life—a kind of American counterpart to his annual radio broadcasts over two decades as Scrooge in Dickens’ A Christmas Carol.)

The creative instinct that Lionel couldn’t display, even as a well-compensated contract player for MGM Studio, he satisfied by picking up a paintbrush or playing the piano and oboe. While walking through the gallery, you’ll hear his First Piano Concerto and Memoriam on the Death of John Barrymore.

Although Ethel and Lionel displayed more self-discipline, John Barrymore has always fascinated me the most of the trio. His talent was matched by an appearance that gave rise to the nickname “The Great Profile.”

Unfortunately both were exceeded by a raucous lifestyle that spawned a million anecdotes—most, remarkably enough, true. (When asked if the very young Romeo and Juliet had a physical relationship, he cracked, “They certainly did in the Chicago company.”)

Committing his father to Bellevue in 1901 was a searing experience for John, but he could not escape the family propensity for substance abuse—and he seems to have passed this genetic inheritance to children Diana and John Drew Barrymore and the latter’s daughter, Drew.

By the early 1930s, John was having trouble showing up on time for studio work and memorizing his lines. Within a decade, as a has-been Shakespearean actor in the stage comedy My Dear Children, he verged close to self-parody.

But the exhibit also includes evidence that John at his best was an electrifying, even pioneering, actor, such as the chair and dagger he used in a 1920 stage production of Hamlet (proclaimed for years as the best many had seen) and the suit of armor he donned for Richard III.

If you have a chance, see the Barrymore exhibit before it closes March 26. Both aficionados of this legendary family and those with only the slightest inkling of what they once meant to the early film industry will come away with greater appreciation for this trio who left their unmistakable marks on American entertainment.

Photo of the Day: Barrymore Film Center, Fort Lee NJ

Late this afternoon, filled with curiosity while in Fort Lee, NJ, I walked over to the Barrymore Film Center, which opened late this past October after a two-year delay caused by COVID. Longtime readers of this blog might be surprised to know that it took this movie aficionado so long to make my way over there.

I wasn’t really expecting much when I heard about this space, a combination of a repertory film theater and museum. But, at $16 million, it’s a handsome structure.

Increased development in the borough over the past decade or so has made traffic and parking more difficult to negotiate.

But I expect that, come what may, I will find a way to return soon—and, with luck, often—to this site that celebrates not only Fort Lee as the birthplace of the motion-picture industry in the silent era, but also its greatest acting family—a dynasty whose most illustrious siblings (Lionel, Ethel, and John Barrymore) grew up in a rambling summer house in the Coytesville section of town.

Within a few weeks, I hope to post on an exhibition running into March on the Barrymores—and, perhaps, on the 267-seat theater. (Among the classics scheduled for the next week: The Lost Weekend, The Apartment, The Birds, North by Northwest, and Vertigo.)

Photo of the Day: Soldiers and Sailors Memorial Hall and Museum, Pittsburgh PA

The Soldiers and Sailors Memorial Hall and Museum is dedicated to honoring the men and women of all branches of service, from all generations and conflicts. From this photo I took a year ago while visiting in Pittsburgh, I think you can see why it was called “this grand edifice” during its 1910 opening ceremony.

Inside, themed displays range from the Civil War through America’s most recent conflicts in Iraq and Afghanistan. Objects displayed include uniforms, medals, firearms, artwork and equipment.

There is a strong local component inside, such as the oak-paneled “Gettysburg Room” (originally a meeting room for members of the Grand Army of the Republic, of Civil War veterans) and the Joseph A. Dugan, Jr. Hall of Valor, focusing on narratives and photographs of 84 Pennsylvania Medal of Honor recipients.

This institution is temporarily closed to walk-in business as part of an international effort to prevent the spread of COVID-19. Until it can safely reopen, the museum will offer guided tours of the museum by appointment only.

Photo of the Day: Old Station Museum and Caboose, Mahwah NJ

I took this photo a month ago while passing through Mahwah, at the northern edge of Bergen County, NJ. Because it was a Sunday, these structures were closed. But, because I have been interested in the significance of railroads in developing America, I paid attention to the sign on the property and read about how the site has been maintained for posterity.

Constructed in 1871, this building served as the original station on the Erie Railroad in Mahwah until the early 1900s, when the Erie expanded to four tracks and raised the roadbed from the ground level.. After being used for different purposes, it was saved from the wrecking ball by the Winters family of Mahwah and later by the Mahwah Historical Society.

Railroad memorabilia collectors have contributed numerous artifacts to this museum, including a 1929 Erie cupola caboose (which features displays about the men who worked the line, and their role in the railroad, and their living conditions), a scale model of the Erie system, and photos of the origins of railroading in Mahwah.

A Wonderful Life Recalled: The Jimmy Stewart Museum, Indiana, PA

Upteen broadcasts of It’s a Wonderful Life this past month have surely heightened interest (not that it was ever lagging) in its star, Jimmy Stewart. Scott Eyman’s dual bio of the actor and his longtime friend Henry Fonda, Hank and Jim, will go part of the way toward satisfying that appetite. 

But physical artifacts linger longer in the mind. So, if you want a visceral sense of what made this embodiment of American values tick, you should, if you have the chance, travel to the town of Indiana, PA, the actor’s birthplace, where his life and career are celebrated in the Jimmy Stewart Museum.

In keeping with the star’s own wishes, the building in his honor is understated and intended to boost the fortunes of his town (about an hour’s drive east of Pittsburgh). But casual fans of the actor will find a vast assortment of eye-opening material in this space (converted from the third floor of the borough’s public library, and adjacent to the original site of the Philadelphia Street hardware store his father owned and operated for years). And even I, a more intense devotee, wanted to linger longer when I visited the museum in October.

There was a whole gallery here devoted to It’s a Wonderful Life. But the material I found most of interest related to his own family growing up. In an almost tangible way, Stewart was able to invest so much in George Bailey because he related so much to him.

Watching It’s a Wonderful Life over the holidays (again!), I was struck more than previously by the relationship between George and his father Peter. There was the quiet but palpable paternal pride in an intelligent, ambitious son; the transmission of the values of hard work and looking out for others; the hope/expectation that the son would eventually take over the business; and the son’s fear that the daily grind of eking out a living in a small town that had daily sapped his father’s vitality would happen to him, too, if he didn’t escape. 

Like George Bailey, young Jimmy Stewart saw his original dream—building something big—frustrated. But unlike George, Jimmy did manage to get away from his hometown. Shortly after graduation from Princeton University, believing opportunities for advancing as an architect in the Great Depression would be limited, he decided to pursue an interest that had increasingly captivated his interest in college: acting. Stints in summer stock and Broadway led eventually to his journey out to Hollywood and, eventually, stardom. 

Jimmy’s son Michael noted that both his parents carried to Hollywood a “small-town Christian Presbyterian ethic that nobody owes you a living. If you have bad breaks, get up and move on.” Jimmy had seen how his own father, Alexander Stewart, had taken one blow after another—first a fire, then the Depression—and managed to keep his business afloat. He maintained the same work ethic.

Hard work was not the only belief instilled in the Stewart family. So was patriotism, best exemplified by service to one’s country. His ancestors served in the American Revolution, the War of 1812 and the Civil War, and during WWII Stewart became the most prominent Hollywood professional to serve in combat missions.

All of that translated to the screen, particularly in three films with his favorite director, Frank Capra (You Can’t Take It With You, Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, and It’s a Wonderful Life), in which Stewart carved out a remarkably enduring image as the embodiment of American decency and integrity. 

A timeline guides visitors chronologically through Stewart’s life, a 50-seat theater runs films about him, and a gift show includes must-have items for fans. 

Even so, I found most interesting the museum’s artifacts (many donated by the actor or his family), which testify both to Stewart’s near-endless variations on his Everyman image, as well as his film peers’ respect for his versatility, professionalism and kindness.

Among the items on display here are:

*Several of Stewart’s Army Air Corps and Strategic Air Command Reserve uniforms, including a military tuxedo;

*A gray, sweat-stained cowboy hat worn in seven of his westerns that he considered a good-luck charm;

*Scripts for several films, including his Oscar-nominated turn as the gentle tippler Elwood P. Dowd in Harvey;

*A room setting with original items from the office he kept in Hollywood;

*A replica of the booth where he usually dined with his wife in the famous Beverly Hills celebrity eatery Chasen’s; and,

*A fiberglass statue of Stewart in Mr. Smith Goes to Washington.

A sign in the museum prominently features the advice Stewart gave each of his daughters as they went away to college: “Always remember: be nice to people.” Words simple, unpretentious and true, taken to heart forever in the town where he grew up.

Photo of the Day: Johnny Angel’s, a Pittsburgh Music Mecca

Several weeks ago, on a short visit to Pittsburgh, a relative convinced me that it was worthwhile visiting Johnny Angel’s Ginchy Stuff, a music-centered shop owned by local doo-wop institution Johnny Angel, the leader of Johnny Angel and the Halos. I took the attached photo at that time, and spent the subsequent half hour inside poring over the many slices of American musical history inside.

Johnny has been a musician for 50 years, and the back part of his space is really a museum: pennants, programs, photographs, themed jackets, and those now-quaint (45s and 78s) music formats that a generation raised on downloads might regard as akin to the Dead Sea Scrolls. Many involve artists encountered by Johnny as a musician starting out (e.g., The Temptations, the 4 Tops, Martha Reeves, James Brown, The Crystal Blue Band—i.e, the original Shondells, Lou Christie, Mary Wilson and Chuck Berry).

The other half of the space is a store selling musical instruments, decorations, books, cassettes, CDs, and records, to name a few.

The space is in Steel City’s Northside, next door to Bicycle Heaven (itself worthy of a blog post from me, at some point in the not-so-distant future). It is well worth a stop.

Photo of the Day: Understanding the News—The Newseum, Washington, DC

These are, obviously, not good times for the news business. The rise of the Internet has caused no end of financial problems. 

Now, this week, Trump adviser Steve Bannon’s diatribe to the New York Times that the media should be “humiliated” and “keep its mouth shut” reveals a level of truculence that surpasses even the Nixon administration at its worst. (The Trump administration has no need to maintain an “enemies list”; every major news organization, with the exception of Fox News—and possibly the Wall Street Journal—is surely on it.) But I’m afraid that his outburst is being welcomed all too much out there, even among people who don’t particularly care for our new President.

I myself have had my quarrels with various newspapers and TV news shows over the years. I could tell detractors of the press that the Bannon/Trump attack does not constitute a defense against biased reporters so much as an outrageous assault on freedom of expression, but that seems to cut no ice with some people.

Instead, then, I’m urging visitors to our nation’s capital to visit the Newseum, at Pennsylvania Avenue and Sixth Street. Compared with many D.C. institutions, it hasn’t been around long—only since 2008—but it brims with more information than nearly all of them. When I visited it a little over a year ago, there were so many exhibits that I left there exhausted—and I still didn’t have anywhere near enough time to see, let alone absorb, everything I wanted.

But that’s a small price to pay to experience the many vivid examples offered by the Newseum of the essential role that the press has played through our nation’s history in holding power to account. We forget that at our peril.

Quote of the Day (Robert Benchley, on ‘Museum Feet’)

“I, myself, in a burst of parental obligation last Fall, decided to take the boys through the Smithsonian Institution in Washington. I would have picked a bigger place if there had been one in the country, but the Smithsonian was the biggest I could get. As a result, I contracted a bad case of what is known in medical circles as ‘Smithsonian Feet,’ that is, a complete paralysis of the feet from the ankles down, due to standing on first one foot and then the other in front of exhibition cases and walking miles upon miles up and down the tessellated corridors of the museum. The boys suffered no ill effects from the trip at all.”—Robert Benchley, “Museum Feet,” in Pluck and Luck (1925)

From what I’ve been able to determine, only four museums were under the Smithsonian umbrella at the time when humorist Robert Benchley (1889-1945) wrote his deeply amusing essay. Today, there are 19—count ‘em, 19. If every American could be prevailed upon to visit each of these buildings at least once, the result would be enough to foot the bill for a decade’s worth of meetings of the American Podiatric Medical Association, I'd wager.

(The accompanying image of Benchley was taken by an unknown photographer around 1935.)