A Century of Stewart

Jimmy Stewart, had he managed to stick around, would have been 100 years old today. As an old movie buff, I have a fondness for many actors of the golden age of Hollywood, but none more than Mr. Stewart.

He represents, for me, the best of America, both in the roles he played and the way he lived his life. He came from a small town, the son of a modest, middle-class family -- his father owned a hardware store in Stewart's hometown of Indiana, Pennsylvania -- and was on his way to a career in architecture when he got sidetracked by a love for the theatre.

The roster of good to great movies Stewart made, once he followed his best friend, Henry Fonda, to Hollywood, is downright mindboggling.

I wish I'd gotten to meet Stewart. Reportedly, his politics and my own wouldn't jibe, but given his oft-cited inherent decency and gentleness, I think we would have managed to work our way around that.

Henry Fonda, best friend, held political convictions that were the polar opposite of Stewart's, and they managed to get past it (though reports have it that, after a fistfight in 1947, they agreed to disagree and avoided political discussions altogether -- I have a couple of friends like that, myself, come to think of it).

The greatest compliment I can pay Stewart is that he always made me think of my grandfather. Not that the two men looked alike -- the only physical characteristic they shared was a lanky frame -- but the quiet dignity with which they both carried themselves, their sense of duty, their decency and warmth, the sparkle in their respective eyes, their love of family and country -- they both represented the best this country has to offer, and I miss them both.

Happy birthday, Jimmy.