Exorcised Over Slimming Down

I was lying in bed one morning last week (I’m really not a morning person; I can lounge in bed for hours after I wake, though this morning, feeling guilty for all the great food I ingested over the weekend, I pushed the covers aside, got up and reluctantly exercised for 30 minutes, though it turned out I hadn’t gained an ounce). Anyway, as I lay in bed last week the phone rang. 

I didn’t recognize the caller ID number. Often, I’ll disdain answering, fearing another robo-calling telemarketer sales come-on, despite our number being on the so-called “Do Not Call Registry,” which seems to have lost its efficacy this past year. Anyway (second time I’ve used that term), I answered and was rewarded with a call from a former business partner with whom my magazine produced several conferences. Though he knew I had retired from the publication several years ago, he was seeking answers. Why, he wanted to know, had his most recent issue floated down to his desk when dropped instead of making the thud it would previously generate from freefall?

It was a painful discussion, details of which I will not catalog for you. Instead, I refer you to the front page of Monday’s New York Times for an article on the decision of New York magazine to reduce the frequency of its publishing cycle(http://www.nytimes.com/2013/12/02/business/media/long-on-cutting-edge-of-print-new-york-magazine-cuts-back.html?ref=business&_r=0). And when Gilda came home tonight, she lamented how thin Country Living and her other magazines had become. I tell you, it’s not a pleasant time to be a print journalist. I get exorcised over the forced reduction in size—page-wise and staff-wise—that has afflicted my profession.

As if I didn’t need anything more to discourage me, Thanksgiving weekend shopping proved to be lackluster. I’m still a student of retailing, so the shortfall did not please me, though I will admit I am not a fan of stores that chose to open on the Thursday holiday. Nor am I a fan of Black Friday doorbuster sales that reduce our collective dignity. Yet, when you read or hear about fast-food and retail workers who have difficulty providing for their families based on their low hourly wages, it is easy to understand why many are desperate to work these hours and why others in similar financial straits are eager to grab these “bargains.” 

It also makes you supportive of the $15 an hour wage fast-food workers are seeking. I’ve written before that it is a red herring argument to assert restaurants would close down or lay off workers if the minimum wage is raised. Yes, prices may have to rise, but only by a few pennies. Wouldn’t it be worth it to be able to look a counter worker in the eyes when ordering a Big Mac and fries?

Our country has evolved into a service-oriented economy. We cannot afford to let the service class fall into a state of servitude. For more on this issue, read Paul Krugman’s column (http://www.nytimes.com/2013/12/02/opinion/krugman-better-pay-now.html?hp&rref=opinion).

Monday’s mail brought a flyer for a new production of Tom Stoppard’s first smash play, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead. As I wrote back in 2011 when Stoppard was a guest of Leonard Lopate of NPR, I had a special moment when I saw the play in the summer of 1968. On a day off from summer camp, my friends and I scored front row seats to a matinee.

Rosencrantz, or was it Guildenstern?, fell into my lap during the performance. They were standing near the edge of the stage apron bantering their Stoppard lines when all of a sudden Rosencrantz, or was it Guildenstern?, lost his footing and tumbled towards me. My reflexes were only 19-years-old at the time so I managed to thrust out my arms to cushion his fall, and save myself, and the actor, from agony. I quickly pushed him back on stage, without so much as a thank you from Rosencrantz, or was it Guildenstern?

Holiday Notes: Shopping, Woody Allen, Huckabee

Were you one of the 247 million Americans who trudged down to the mall over the 4-day Thanksgiving holiday to celebrate our collective good fortune by spending a record $59.1 billion? I wasn’t. Not that I don’t have lots to be thankful for, but I make it a point to abstain from the in-store frenzy. I didn’t even participate in the $1.5 billion Cyber Monday buy-fest. 

Perhaps because for 32 years I had to report on this ultra-patriotic shopping activity I developed a certain disdain for Black Friday, followed by Saturday and Sunday at the shopping center. Coverage of consumers fighting over Xboxes or big screen TVs or Ugg boots was all too predictable. Also predictable was the supposition that strong Thanksgiving weekend sales presaged an overall strong holiday shopping season. Yes, that could happen. But what usually transpired was a lull in spending that picked up only in the last 10 days before Christmas. Meanwhile, newspapers and electronic media wondered who would win the game of chicken between retailers who did not want to reduce prices and hurt their profit margins and consumers who wanted to wait until extreme discounts opened up their tight hold on their wallets. I’ll be very surprised if such stories don’t start appearing in about a week.

Too Awed to Ask: I’m a little behind in my reading, so I finally looked at a NY Times conversation with Robert De Niro printed November 18 in the magazine section. Written by the film critic A.O. Scott, the article highlighted a challenge many journalists confront when interviewing a famous person. Scott wrote, “I confess, however, that it took all my professional discipline to resist squandering the time I spent with De Niro on a recent Saturday afternoon in a slack-jawed fanboy recitation of his greatest hits. Oh, my God, you’re Jake Lamotta! You’re Johnny Boy! Your Travis Bickle! I’m talking to you.”

That paragraph reminded me of my year at Syracuse University earning a master’s degree in newspaper journalism. One of my classmates and best friends, Steve Kreinberg, got a freelance gig as a movie critic on the Syracuse New Times, an alternative lifestyle newspaper launched just two years earlier in 1969 (and still around today). After we laughed our way through Woody Allen’s Bananas in a suburban Syracuse movie theater—there is nothing that makes you feel more Jewish, and alone in the world, than guffawing at Woody Allen shtick when the rest of the audience is sitting cold, stone silent—Steve announced in the parking lot that he landed an interview with Allen the following week in New York City. Though Allen was in the middle of editing Everything You Wanted to Know About Sex* But Were Afraid to Ask, he agreed to meet Steve at his studio.

He drove down to Manhattan. When Steve returned he was uncharacteristically quiet. When the next edition did not run his interview I demanded an explanation. Sheepishly he admitted he lost all professional composure in the presence of the great man. He just kept gushing, “You’re Woody Allen. I love your work.” There’s only so many times he could say that before Woody determined this interview was going nowhere. 

Steve eventually recovered his moxie and went on to become one of the five question writers for the old Hollywood Squares show (the one that featured Paul Lynde in the center square). He was expected to write 50 acceptable questions per day, and yes, celebrities were counseled before each show on topics they would be asked. After Hollywood Squares Steve and his writing partner Andy became staff writers for Archie Bunker’s Place (Carroll O’Connor’s successor show to All in the Family) as well as for Herman’s Head, Saved by the Bell, Head of the Class, Nine to Five and Mork & Mindy. 

Funny, He Doesn’t Look Jewish: I’m always amused when out of left field a famous person has it revealed that deep in their past a Jewish gene lurks. Think former secretary of state Madeleine Albright (though how an intelligent woman like she could not figure out her parents chose to flee Prague in 1938 because of their Jewish origins is beyond my ken). 

Anyway, I was reading this week’s NY Times magazine when I came across this response from Mike Huckabee, the former governor of Arkansas, also-ran 2008 Republican presidential primary candidate, Southern Baptist minister and Fox News Channel talk show host. Asked how to celebrate the holidays, Huckabee said, “On Christmas Eve, we go to the service at our church, and when it’s over, we go out for Chinese food.” 

Funny, I didn’t know Huckabee was Jewish (for my non-Jewish readers, ask a Jewish friend why it's funny). 

Do We Really Need to Know This?

How would you like to have been the PR person assigned to write the press release accompanying the following headline?

“More than 38 Million Online Americans Shopped While on the Toilet”

Do we really need to know this? I know shopping has become more than just part of the fabric of the American way of life. To many it has become the total blanket. Still, do we really need to know that even on the potty people are dialing up their smartphones so they won’t miss that bargain of a lifetime. It used to be sitting on the john was reserved as “quality” reading time. If you remember the movie The Big Chill, the Jeff Goldblum character, a writer for People, said he and his colleagues were instructed to keep stories short enough so they could be read in total during the time it takes to complete one average dump. 

Anyway, back to the, ahem, news ... A Harris Interactive survey paid for by CashStar, suggests “that more than 38 million online adult Americans admit to having shopped online while on the toilet.” Compare that to “almost 17 million shopping via a mobile device while standing in the retailer's physical store.”

Among the other enlightening though not projectable findings of this online survey of 2,104 adults aged 18 and older conducted Nov. 6-8:

*Potty shopping was more of a male than female activity;

*Shopping online trumps safety as more than four million said they shopped while driving;

*The business of business is business, so it shouldn’t be a surprise that more than nine million said they have secretly shopped while in a business meeting;

*Seven million-plus Americans shopped from their mobile device while at the grocery store.

Get to Work Thursday: I never liked Sunday Blue Laws, the civic ordinances that required retailers to be closed Sundays, or another day of the week if one’s religion celebrated the sabbath on a different schedule that Christian America. Blue Laws mostly vanished in the last 25 years except in some hamlets like Paramus, NJ; some companies, such as Chick-fil-A, remain closed on Sundays because of the religious belief of their founders, Truett Cathy in the case of Chick-fil-A. 

I like having access to stores every day. But I also believe store personnel are entitled to some family life. They should not be deprived of holidays with their families. Or friends. With the exception of drug stores and partial hours for supermarkets, stores should be closed on Thanksgiving and New Year’s Day. I’m also okay with no retailing on Christmas and Easter. No one should go into cardiac arrest because they can’t get their Target or Victoria’s Secret fix. Yet these stores, and a whole lot more, have scheduled openings for Thanksgiving. It’s not enough they make workers get to the store before the sun rises for Black Friday sales, now they are thrusting a consumer frenzy mindset onto a day that had always been reserved for family. There’s enough tension already in these family gatherings without the extra hype shopping demands. 

My daughter’s brother-in-law Rob posted a neat idea—“Any stores that start Black Friday shopping on Thanksgiving this year will be getting zero business from us.” He included a list of stores opening on Thanksgiving: 

http://retailindustry.about.com/od/2012ThanksgivingDay11222012/a/2012-Thanksgiving-Day-Store-Hours-Opening-Times-November-22-Complete-Roundup-List_2.htm. It’s going to be pretty hard to stay away from many of these stores, but the sentiment is one worth considering.

Lots of people, nearly half the country, will struggle to shop in stores this weekend, but there’s growing evidence the activity does not rate high on people’s preferred activities. According to Western Union Holiday Gifting Index, 68% of those who shopped on Black Friday last year said they did not think the experience was worth the money they saved. 

I Love You, Craig: As long as we are on the subject of waste matter (see above), Gilda has embarked on a composting binge. All manner of uncooked vegetables, fruits, tea leaves, cooked egg shells and cardboard egg cartons are making their way into our compost pile. Normally, I fill up the pile with free compost from our city municipal dump. But I got there too late this year. Without compost, Gilda’s flower and vegetable garden would not be extraordinary, so we’re now a composting family. 

Composting, however, requires leaves. Lots of leaves. Shredded leaves. The electric blower/shredder I borrowed from my brother last year doesn’t really work (no wonder he let me have it). New electric leaf shredders cost about $200. I opted to try to find a used on on Craig’s List. Score! I found one today 60 miles away in New Jersey for just $25. 

While I’m at a meeting tonight, Gilda will be surprised when she comes home from work and sees the Craftsman Leafwacker Plus where my car usually rests in the garage (don't worry about her finding out before she gets home; she rarely reads my posts the day they go up). I even bagged six large loads of leaves from around the neighborhood. I know what you’re thinking—I’m such a thoughtful husband. There’s lots of truth to that. It also doesn’t hurt that I’m retired and able to spend time, thanks to Craig’s List, fulfilling her dreams. 

Good News: Gun Sales Are Up

For all you Obama fans, or reluctant fans, out there, here’s a portent of good news—guns sales hit record numbers on Black Friday (http://www.usatoday.com/news/nation/story/2011-12-01/gun-sales-up-black-friday/51554972/1).

The counterintuitive omen signifies the initial evidence the conservative crowd may have realized the goal of giving the president his walking papers will be harder than getting Congress to pass compromise budget legislation. On Black Friday, the FBI received a record number of requests (129,166) from gun dealers for background checks on prospective buyers. Requests exceeded by 32% the previous high, set on Black Friday 2008.

In case you fail to see the significance of that prior record date, it was the first Black Friday after the election of Barack Obama. Gun toters and Second Amendment advocates feared Obama and his Democratic Congressional majority would push through more restrictive firearms laws (which they didn’t), so they rushed out to fill their gun chests with all manner of revolvers, assault rifles and semi-automatics.

Prognosticators often look for outlier signs to aid them in forecasting the future. For example, to predict manufacturing output they check the level of corrugated box shipments. To audit retail inventory levels and divine sales, analysts scour container shipment availability months before the holiday season.

Though gun enthusiasts explain the surge in purchases to more women wanting protection, as well as those who have newly discovered the sport of shooting and hunting, my money is on the political explanation. Crime statistics also don’t corroborate another reason advanced, that the sour economy has fostered a more dangerous environment. As the NY Times reported last May, “The number of violent crimes in the United States dropped significantly last year, to what appeared to be the lowest rate in nearly 40 years, a development that was considered puzzling partly because it ran counter to the prevailing expectation that crime would increase during a recession.

“In all regions, the country appears to be safer. The odds of being murdered or robbed are now less than half of what they were in the early 1990s, when violent crime peaked in the United States. Small towns, especially, are seeing far fewer murders: In cities with populations under 10,000, the number plunged by more than 25 percent last year.” (http://www.nytimes.com/2011/05/24/us/24crime.html)

Yes, the reason for higher guns sales seems obvious. Given the antipathy even Republican voters have to their slate of potential presidential nominees, and the outright disdain the public has for the Republican-controlled House of Representatives, fear of Obama’s re-election and Democratic ascendancy in the House appear to be driving gun purchases. It might not be a rational response, but no one ever accused gun purchasers of acting rationally.

Predictions Come True and Some Corrections

As I predicted, Black Friday madness turned violent. Reports of gunfire in South Carolina from a possible robbery in a parking lot and pepper-spraying by one shopper trying to diffuse the competition seeking an X-Box player in a California store vied for headlines with another pepper-spraying incident, this time by a security guard in North Carolina trying to retrieve a cell phone that had fallen from a display.

Rome had its Circus Maximus and then the Coliseum where the public was entertained for days on end by games, gladiator contests and pageantry. We have Black Friday and subsequent sales days from now till Christmas, and then the post-holiday clearance sales period. For some lighter fare, we have the continuing series of Republican Party presidential debates.

It’s hard to believe we’ve matured as a society from those ancient times.


Corrections: In my last blog on Cooper Union and Brooklyn College, I made several mistakes when writing about Open Admissions. So here’s a cleaned up version, thanks to Gilda’s keen editing eye and better memory:

Gilda and I attended Brooklyn College, the closest entity to free higher education. Back in the late 1960s, Brooklyn College and City College accepted only the best students, basically anyone with an A average. B students went to one of the other City University of New York schools, such as Hunter College or Queens College. Tuition at Brooklyn College each semester was $50 ($332 in current inflation adjusted dollars) plus the cost of books. Today, tuition is $2,565 per semester for matriculated full-time students. Since it was a commuter school, few if any students incurred housing costs.

Shortly before we graduated in 1971, the City University of New York initiated Open Admissions. Mostly anyone with a high school degree could attend. Brooklyn College began accepting students with less than an A average. Quality deteriorated. The grand experiment failed. The school has reverted to a more stringent admissions policy. I’m not familiar with Brooklyn College’s current academic standing, but when Gilda and I attended, it was a top notch liberal arts institution, virtually free to all who qualified.

Cain Not Able

Whether you believe the accusations of sexual misconduct by Herman Cain or his protestations of innocence, the tempest at long last shines a light on his tenure as head of the National Restaurant Association. Contrary to a NY Times article last Thursday suggesting Cain has no legislative or political track record, the former CEO of Godfather’s Pizza has an extensive history of anti-working class positions.

As the chief lobbyist for the NRA and before that as an influential member and president of the trade group, Cain diligently worked to oppose minimum wage hikes, health care provisions for workers, and other progressive legislation. He championed libertarian causes. As someone who allied the NRA with tobacco interests, it is not surprising he did not object to the recent ad on his Web site featuring chief of staff Mark Block smoking a cigarette.

I know Cain appeals to voters as a supposed Washington outsider. Plus, his career as a motivational speaker provides him a glibness not found in almost all of the other candidates. I am perplexed, however, how anyone who has looked into his record, or listened to his ill-considered responses to questions, could support him, unless they were millionaires or regressive thinkers. The presidential primary run is intended to flesh out a candidate’s thoughts, yet Cain has indicated he will limit public speaking engagements so as not to self-inflict foot-in-the-mouth disease with erroneous or flawed thoughts.

Cain is an interesting diversion, but clearly he is not able to be, or capable of being, president of the United States.


Can You Hear Me Now? The other day while washing my hands in a local office building’s public restroom, a man came in to use the facilities and continued a business conversation on his cell phone. I was astounded.

Sometimes my cell phone rings in a public restroom. If it’s a family member, I’ll reluctantly answer. But I’d never answer for anyone else. Maybe I’m old fashioned, but I just don’t understand how anyone would conduct a business call in a public bathroom. How would you explain that gushing sound from the next stall? Has our collective etiquette been flushed down the toilet?


Winter Wonderland?: Not exactly, given all the broken tree limbs from the late October snowfall that hit the northeast. Even before the storm I was amused to see at least two locations, one a residence, the other a professional office building, decked out in Christmas lights. Halloween had not yet passed. Gimme a break.

Speaking of Halloween, once again my best laid plans to provide candy to the trick-or-treaters came up short. Only one kid ventured out Monday night, and she came at 8:30! Perhaps it was the snow, or the down power line halfway up the block that scared away the little beggars.

Back to Christmas, I’ll go on record again as being against plans by retail companies to prime customers to rush to their stores on Black Friday, or in this year’s case, at midnight at the end of Thanksgiving Day. Sure, there will be many too-good-to-pass-up sales, which in turn will cause some to literally crush the competition (i.e., other customers) on their mad rush to scoop up as many bargains as possible. We’ll be lucky if no deaths or serious injuries befall any customers or store personnel, as happened a few years ago at a Wal-Mart in Valley Stream, NY.

Most people’s wallets are hurting, given the high unemployment and their reduced buying power. It’s understandable they will be enticed by sharp deals. But why must we as a society condone and perpetuate behavior akin to beasts tearing at the flesh of prey? Why must we turn our holidays into a circus of greed and animus toward fellow shoppers?

Aside from the depravity retailers encourage among customers, they also subject their staffs to work conditions most of us would not tolerate if we had a choice. How many among us want to leave our families to work on national holidays, or start a shift at midnight? I guess when most store personnel are working at minimum wage or just slightly better they have little choice but to accept the assignment, even if it’s at time and a half.

It all makes for good television news spectacle, crowds gathered around a store, especially if the weather is inclement and their tribulations are multiplied. Many TV reports will try to divine a sales trend. Black Friday, however, years ago stopped being a harbinger of holiday season sales. Now it is just a cruel manifestation of the class division that has cleaved our country. When was the last time you saw Neiman Marcus, or Bergdorf Goodman, or Tiffany, or Gump’s open for business in the middle of the night? No, the rich can shop during civilized hours. The rest of America, the 99%, must fight for discounts in the middle of the night.


A Thoughtful Goodbye: Robert Pierpoint, a longtime CBS News correspondent, died last week. He was 86. I met Pierpoint in 1972 during his tenure as a White House correspondent. His office was a little larger than a phone booth, but he invited me in to discuss the thesis of a term paper I was researching for my master’s degree in journalism. I always appreciated his hospitality and reporting.

Enough Already

I don’t mean to jinx everyone, but I’ve decided it’s time to store away the snow blower. Enough already.

Though there’s still a remnant of snow on the shaded part of my front lawn, and weather forecasts for later this week hint at possible flurries, I don’t care. It’s seven weeks since Groundhog Day, since Punxsutawney Phil and Staten Island Chuck both were said to have failed to see their shadows, thus predicting an early spring.

Ha! Had they seen their shadows, it would have meant six more weeks of winter. Well, those six weeks expired last Wednesday, yet the water in the birdbath outside remains frozen. Enough already!

I ran the snow blower this afternoon until all the gas was used up. I rolled it into the shed on the side yard. I moved Gilda’s plant cart from the shed to the garage. I’m mentally prepared for spring. But just in case, I left the snow shovels in the garage for easy access.


Spring means the start of the baseball season. Of all the non-stories wafting their way up north from Florida, the one surrounding Derek Jeter’s spot in the NY Yankees batting order ranks as #1.

The Yanks have won championships with Jeter batting first or second. So why should we care where he hits? As long as he hits like his old self and not like last year. Just sit back, relax and if you really want to fret about anything (if you’re a Yankee fan), pray our pitching holds up.

For the record, in case you haven’t heard, Jeter will bat second this year behind Brett Gardner.


Draperless: More fretful is news that Don Draper and Mad Men company will not be seen this summer. Word today from AMC network that Mad Men will not air again until 2012.

Hard to say how people under 40 will respond. My cohorts, at least, can reflect back on life in the 1960s, though I must admit, I knew no one like red-headed office manager Joan Harris.


Not Since Taft: Is President Obama growing a mustache? Check out his upper lip in this interview Tuesday with CBS News’ Erica Hill: http://www.cbsnews.com/video/watch/?id=7361181n&tag=contentBody;featuredPost-PE. Though the rest of his face is clean-shaven there clearly is a shadow under his nose.

If he goes all the way and joins the facial hair crowd, Obama will be the first president since William Howard Taft 100 years ago to sport a mustache. It’s up to him, and no doubt Michelle, how he wants to look, but he should keep in mind that a president with the middle name of Hussein, who already is less than appealing to some 40% of the country, should be careful not to reinforce stereotypes. If there’s one region where despotic leaders, and everyday citizens, come attired with mustaches it is the Arabic Muslim world.


Would you spend $2 million to fight a $7,000 fine from OSHA? If you were Walmart you would because the retailer doesn’t want restrictions placed on how it conducts Black Friday and other massive sales events.

Some background: in 2008 a Walmart employee was trampled to death when crowds overwhelmed security and orderliness as doors opened at a Valley Stream, NY, store at 5 am on the day after Thanksgiving. Walmart appealed the $7,000 fine the Occupational Safety and Health Administration levied against it. OSHA also issued guidelines retailers should follow to prevent a recurrence of the tragedy. Last week a judge ruled against Walmart (http://www.nytimes.com/2011/03/26/business/26osha.html?scp=3&sq=damour&st=cse). Walmart is considering a further appeal.

Though Walmart has taken the lead, the retail industry, at least the big chain stores, are mostly behind its stand. And that is unfortunate. Unfortunate because it demonstrates a callousness toward both their employees and their customers.

I’ve said it before (even while head of a retail industry publication) and I’ll say it again—crack of dawn Black Friday sales are demeaning and unsafe. They represent the worst of a get-it-at-all-costs consumer mentality. Each year numerous people, customers and workers, are injured in melees that ensue when customers who’ve waited hours in the cold are unleashed to scramble for a few prized products at “door-busting” prices. Indeed, the doors busted when 34-year-old Jdimytai Damour was overrun in the Walmart store.

OSHA is proposing a more civilized way. Shame on Walmart and its supporters for caring more about their sales than the people who work and shop in their stores. How fitting the ruling against Walmart came down on the 100th anniversary of the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire that ultimately led to OSHA’s creation to protect workers.

Buying Patterns

By most accounts, holiday shopping got off to a rousing start over the Thanksgiving weekend. Black Friday and Cyber Monday today brought out pent-up consumer demand.

The question now is, will the momentum maintain itself, or will consumers revert to their recent years’ practice of “U-shaped” spending, high at the start and finish of the season and almost nonexistent during the middle four weeks, causing panic among retailers and even more discounts than originally planned?

If I were a betting man, my money would be on the U-shape scenario, especially since many of those interviewed for stories said they already completed their holiday shopping because of the great deals they found last weekend and even before the official start of the madcap buying season.

Two more cautionary notes. First, Hannukah starts Wednesday night, so in major metropolitan areas, spending by many Jewish families is virtually complete. Second, news stories pointed out that many shoppers over the weekend paid cash, avoiding credit cards. If the consumer stays true to her budget, that’s troubling news to an industry, nay, our nation, that relies on impulse purchases to pump up the economy and rake in profits.

Perhaps nothing can be better for retailers than strict adherence to planned promotions, investment in style-right assortments and tight control on inventory levels. Retailers cannot be expected to stop running sales cold-turkey. As long as they resist putting the whole store on sale, they can benefit from aggressive promotions. Too often those reporters who wonder if all the sales will eat into profits don’t realize that disciplined discounts generate profit. It’s when panic sets in that profits fly out the window.

Style-right assortments apply to hard goods as well as soft goods. It’s simple—if the right goods are bought by the merchandise buyer, they’ll go out the door under the arms of contented shoppers. But no amount of discounting will get rid of dogs. The ability to select the right goods is what separates great merchants from the mediocre, or worse, the bankrupt.

Too often in the past, retailers loaded the floor with too much inventory in initial orders and replenishments. Customers came to realize they could wait them out for bigger and bigger discounts. Last year retailers started fighting back, retraining shoppers that what they saw on the sales floor would not be augmented by new shipments. If they liked an item that was at full price, or at a modest 20% off, they needed to scoop it up right away or risk not getting it at all. Expect more of the same basic training this year.

Gifts to Remember

With Black Friday just three days away, the official holiday gift-giving season is upon us. Andy Rooney said on 60 Minutes Sunday night he has received four really great presents in his lifetime—a tricycle when he was about five, a $10 bill, a big league baseball autographed by Babe Ruth and Lou Gehrig, and, recently, a five-pound can of dry roasted peanuts (http://www.cbsnews.com/video/watch/?id=7076431n).

No doubt, I received many great gifts as a child. Some were practical—every Rosh Hashanah and Passover my Uncle Willy would come to our home for the holidays laden down with new outfits for my brother, sister and me from his dry goods store on First Avenue off 10th Street in Manhattan. I still recall a snazzy blue suit he brought when I was around 6. In those days, the middle 1950s, boys wore wide brimmed hats, as well. Dressed up in my new suit and hat, I looked like a miniature Don Draper, without a cigarette. And, I think my ears stuck out wider.

I can recall just three really memorable presents from my childhood, none related to a birthday or holiday. The first was a reward for being a good patient. I needed several baby teeth extracted. My mother took me to a specialist in downtown Brooklyn. The oral surgeon propped my mouth open with a short, hard black rubber tube before putting me to sleep. The next thing I knew, a young nurse’s face was circling round and round before my eyes as I emerged from the ether. To reward my good comportment, my mother took me into a nearby store where she bought a six inch, pink plastic school bus hanging in a plastic bag on a display tree. It was kind of a lame toy. Nothing moved on it. It was just an injection molded plastic toy. But then, my mother was never really good at buying presents. As we got older she would simply give us money and tell us to buy whatever we wanted. She was way ahead of the gift-card trend of recent years.

A little earlier, definitely not later than my fifth birthday, we traveled to Philadelphia to visit my mother’s brother. From Brooklyn, we took the ferry across to Staten Island, this being 10 years before the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge linked the two boroughs. For some unknown reason, Uncle Sol gave me a toy car. It was about 18 inches long, at least six inches wide, a grey convertible, with doors, hood and trunk that opened, rubber tires that could be taken off with a small tire iron stored in the trunk. All afternoon I played with that car on the parlor floor. I don’t ever recall seeing Uncle Sol again. There was a falling out between him and his four sisters when their mother died. I don’t know if our visit preceded or came right after my grandmother’s death. I only know Uncle Sol never again appeared in my life. We didn’t reach a rapprochement with Sol’s family (his widow, three sons and their families) for nearly 20 years, until Gilda and I married in 1973 and we invited them to our wedding. But that car stayed with me as a favorite toy for many years.

It was either the mumps or chicken pox that confined me to my parents’ bedroom when I was about seven. Mom had returned to full-time work with my father in his factory. I was left in the care of our housekeeper, Jessie. To cheer me up, she gave me an Old West stagecoach. Pulled by two brown horses (with a yellow wheel under their harness to simulate movement), the stagecoach was driven by a grizzled, rubbery man, with Andy Rooney-style bushy eyebrows and a whip in his right hand. The whole outfit was huge—the stagecoach itself had to be at least a foot in length and nine inches high. With the horses attached, the toy was easily 18 inches long. Long after the stagecoach busted up (or was thrown out in one of my mother’s periodic closet cleanings—my baseball card and comic book collections shared a similar fate), I played with the teamster until he, too, outlived youthful play dates.