AMERICANA / NATIONAL CHRISTMAS TREE HISTORY

The theme for the Obamas' last Christmas in the White House was "The Gift of the Holidays." The ribbon decorating the official tree in the Blue Room had the preamble to the U.S. Constitution inscribed on it and was surrounded by gold and silver ornaments.

President Harrison's holiday tree

Benjamin Harrison was the first President to have a decorated Christmas tree (above, replica) in the White House, and his home in Indianapolis reflects his fondness for celebrating the holiday. 

During the holiday season, the house represents a gala Victorian Christmas at its finest. Outside, the house is festooned with garlands of greenery and bows on the wrap-around porch. Upon entering the house, guests will feel drawn back in time to a 19th century Christmas. 

 The front parlor features a large tree similar to the one Benjamin Harrison decorated for his grandchildren in 1889 in the White House. Authentic decorations such as wooden soldiers, cotton batting ornaments, hand-blown glass figures, and candles adorn this tree. Victorian toys, many of them Harrison originals, will be displayed under the tree as the children might have found them on Christmas morning. 

 The seven fireplace mantels throughout the house are lavishly decorated with greenery, dried flowers, pine cones, seed pods, fresh flowers, ribbons and bows. Many of the designs were taken directly from period publications. This same treatment is used on mirrors, furniture, chandeliers, and doorways while garlands and ribbons cascade gracefully down the three-floor banister. 

 The traditional evergreen was not the only holiday tree used by the Victorians. Feather trees, made from dyed goose feathers, were also popular. These trees originated in Germany as part of the early conservation movement. A feather tree decorated with hand-blown glass ornaments is displayed. A snow tree—made from last year’s real tree with needles removed and swathed in cotton batting—is traditionally covered with edible treats such as cookies and candies. 

 You will find an “Old Father Christmas,” inspired from an 1868 Ladies Godey’s Magazine. He is made from pine cones, moss, sheep’s wool and real fur. Other historic decorations include pomanders, a kissing ball, wreaths, a greenery covered lyre, tussie mussies and cornucopias.

WHITE HOUSE CHRISTMAS TREES

The tradition of the White House Christmas tree did not begin with the founding fathers, despite long-standing myths. For many years, the Christmas tree was a private family custom rather than a public display.

Early trees were modest and usually cut locally from the Washington, D.C. area or nearby parts of Virginia and Maryland. They were most often firs or spruces, selected for availability rather than visual impact. Decorations were simple, and candles were used until electric lighting became common in the early twentieth century. 

INDOORS. President Lyndon Johnson and First Lady Bird Johnson hosted UK Prime Minister Harold and Mrs. Mary Wilson at the White House during the 1965 Christmas season.

The modern, ceremonial White House Christmas tree tradition was established in 1966 during Lyndon B. Johnson’s administration. That year, the tree was formally designated as the official White House Christmas tree and placed in the Blue Room, where it has remained ever since. From that point forward, the tree became a public symbol, featured during official receptions, concerts, and televised holiday events. Today, the tree is almost always a Fraser fir, chosen for its strong branches, symmetrical shape, and ability to hold heavy ornaments while retaining its needles. 

OUTDOORS. President John F. Kennedy presided over the lighting of this National Christmas Tree in December 1962. The Colorado blue spruce was harvested from a national forest near Poncha Pass in Chaffee County.  It was erected in the Ellipse in President's Park, Washington DC.

Since the late 1960s, the tree has been sourced from American Christmas tree farms through a rotating selection process. Growers from states such as North Carolina, Pennsylvania, Wisconsin, and West Virginia compete for the honor. The selected tree is cut in late November and transported to Washington for installation. 

The White House Christmas tree is typically unveiled in early December and remains on display throughout the holiday season. It is taken down shortly after New Year’s Day. While each individual tree is temporary, the tradition itself endures as one of the most recognizable and quietly meaningful rituals of the American presidency. 

First Lady Laura Bush strolls by White House holiday decorations in 2004.

***

How Archie Roosevelt Saved The White House Christmas Tree Tradition 

In 1902, Archie Roosevelt’s birthday fell near Christmas, and all he really wanted was a tree to open gifts. Big problem.  His father President Teddy Roosevelt banned Christmas Trees from the White House as a symbolic gesture to save our national forests.  

Archie had other ideas.  The young Roosevelt boy went out on the White House lawn and cut down a Christmas tree. They smuggled the tree into the White House and propped it up inside of a small sewing room. The White House handyman helped the boys add the lights to the tree, and their aunt helped find the decorations. 

On Christmas morning, after everyone was gathered to open their presents, Archie surprised his family by opening the door to reveal the beautiful Christmas tree. Since he did not have a lot of ornaments available for him to use, so the sweet little boy hung presents for every member of his family, which included every one of the pets. 

 There are several different versions of the story as to what happened next. Some say that President Roosevelt was touched by 8-year-old Archie’s ingenuity and Christmas spirit, and it was, after all, near his birthday, so he let it slide. 

BOY WHO SAVED CHRISTMAS TREES. President Theodore Roosevelt with his family at Sagamore Hill, Oyster Bay, New York, 1903. Left to right: Quentin Roosevelt leaning against his father; President Theodore Roosevelt, seated, hat in hand; Archibald, "Christmas Tree Archie" Roosevelt, seated in front on the chair arm; Theodore “Ted” Roosevelt Jr., standing behind; Alice Lee Roosevelt, standing in white with the broad-brimmed hat; Kermit Roosevelt, standing beside her; First Lady Edith Roosevelt, seated; and Ethel Roosevelt, standing at far right.

Others say that he tried to lecture his kids about the importance of forest conservation. In 1906, Teddy Roosevelt wrote a letter to his sister to say that every year from then on, both Archie and his brother Quentin took it upon themselves to put up a Christmas tree in the children’s play room, and they would make sure to have full stockings and presents hanging on the tree, like they had in previous years. 

Other years, Archie would even surprise his parents by setting up a tree for them that was a surprise on Christmas morning. This kid seriously loved Christmas!  Despite all of the heart-melting cuteness of his son putting up Christmas trees, 

President Roosevelt still needed to clear his conscience, since it was pretty hypocritical to denounce Christmas trees and yet allow his own kids to have them. He called up one of his fellow conservationists, Gifford Pinchot, from the US Forest Service. 

He asked his opinion on the situation, since he knew far more about forestry, and how much of an impact cutting down Christmas trees actually had on the environment. Pinchot said that if people cut down the tallest and oldest trees for their homes, it actually helps the small trees grow. At that time, a lot of people would cut down 2 or 3 foot Christmas trees, because they were easier to carry out of the woods. This advice is mostly likely why today, it is far more popular to have a 6-foot tree, instead. 

Once he learned this news, Roosevelt retracted his decision to cancel Christmas trees, and changed his tune to encouraging people to cut a large tree, so long as it is done responsibly. After learning this, he stopped trying to tell American citizens that they cannot have their Christmas trees during the holidays. 

 In 1903, the Roosevelts hosted their first Christmas Carnival on the White House lawn. There were six kids in the Roosevelt family, and 300 other children of the White House staff and government officials living in Washington DC were invited to participate in the festive winter wonderland. There were games, dances in the White House ballroom, and a huge dinner for the guests. For dessert, everyone got to eat an ice cream sundae in the shape of Santa.

 It would seem that the Christmas spirit was in full force, and the family continued to decorate and enjoy the holiday to the fullest extent. 

Today, the National Parks Service allows families to go and cut down their own Christmas tree on public land if they have a permit. Certain municipalities even offer a Christmas tree recycling service to help get rid of any waste after the holidays are over. For people who prefer to have a live Christmas tree, they usually purchase them from farms, which has dramatically cut down from tampering with the wild. 

 The National Christmas Tree now stands in front of the White House every year, and it has a public lighting ceremony. None of it may have happened if it were not for the Roosevelt kid trying to save the tradition forever.

DESIGN/ CARTIER. TOKYO

    Exterior of Cartier Ginza at night

Klein Dytham shapes aluminium into "silky drape of fabric" for Cartier Ginza facade 

The photography is by Raphael Olivier. 

GUEST BLOG / By Cajsa Carlson, Dezeen Magazine--Tokyo-based Klein Dytham Architecture has designed the facade for jewellery brand Cartier's Ginza store, which features swooping aluminium curves designed to evoke a wedding dress. The studio wanted its design to stand out among the bustling streets of Tokyo's central Ginza district, which are surrounded by linear rows of skyscrapers. 

Klein Dytham wanted to bring a "gentle, sculptural calm" to Ginza 

"The concept was to bring a gentle, sculptural calm to Ginza's highly geometric streetscape by introducing a facade that feels fluid, soft, and sophisticated," Klein Dytham co-founder Mark Dytham told Dezeen. "Rather than compete with the vertical rhythm around it, the design uses layered, flowing forms to create an elegant sense of depth and anticipation." 

Bespoke aluminium panels wrap the facade 

To create the curved shapes, Dytham and his co-founder, Astrid Klein, wrapped the facade in bespoke panels made from cast aluminium that were designed to resemble the drape of a wedding dress. "The sweeping curves create a sense of movement and softness, recalling a silky drape of fabric and giving the building a quiet, sculptural presence within the busy urban context," Dytham said. "They also catch and reflect light throughout the day, allowing the facade to subtly transform as people pass by." 

The new design contrasts against the existing vertical louvres

By using gentle curves for the facade design, the studio also helped to dissolve the fire-compartment lines between floors to create a more seamless look. Klein Dytham's design, which is anchored by a rectangular frame that borders the vertical louvres of the existing facade, comprises three stepped layers: cast aluminium panels, flat aluminium panels and a glass layer. 

 Cartier Ginza store lit up at night Cartier Ginza's facade colour shifts with the light 

Aluminium was chosen as the main material for the facade because of its versatility. "Aluminium allowed us to achieve the precise triple-curved geometry essential to the facade's softness while offering durability, lightness, and a beautifully refined finish that meets Cartier's exacting standards," Dytham explained. "Its versatility was crucial in developing the cast and flat-panel layers that give the facade its depth." 

A Seigaiha pattern decorates the glass on the facade

 For the glass layer, the studio created a geometric print that draws on the traditional Japanese Seigaiha motif, a pattern of overlapping concentric circles. "The Seigaiha pattern – symbolising waves and good fortune – introduces a distinctly Japanese tactility and cultural resonance to the innermost glass layer, especially as sunlight filters through and gently projects the motif into the interior," Dytham said. 

The project marks Klein Dytham's second design for Cartier, with the pair previously having designed an intricate wooden shop front for the brand in Osaka's Shinsaibashi shopping area. 

Tokyo Project credits: 

Facade designer: Klein Dytham Architecture 

General contractor: Taisei Corporation 

Facade engineer: Permasteelisa Japan 

Lighting design: Illumination of City Environment

TRAVEL TUESDAY / DIPPING INTO THE DESERT FOR THE HOLIDAYS

Robolights (above) is an art installation in Palm Springs, California. It consists of sculptures made by artist Kenny Irwin Jr. starting in 1986 and surround his house at 1077 E Granvia Valmonte. All the sculptures are made from recycled materials.  At 70,000 annual visitors on average, Robolight is estimated as the largest residential, private Christmas lights display in the United States.

By Jennifer Silva Redmond, Author of Honeymoon at Sea. Next in a continuing series of liveaboard (and off) adventures. 

When our good friends who have a house in Palm Springs invited us for the holidays, we jumped at the chance to jump ship and leave the boat behind for a few days. It's always nice to spend time at their home, lovingly named Blisters, regardless of the weather but there's so much more to do there when it isn't summertime hot. 

First we picked up a rental car and then had to tackle the three-hour drive, heading north amongst the hordes of others then turning east with a mass of cars all being funneled onto the I-10 freeway that leads to Palm Springs. 

 Arriving at Blisters, we greeted Neil and Brad, and Otis their handsome and exuberant Goldendoodle. We quickly stashed our bags in the guest room and went straight out to the pool’s hot tub, which they had warmed up to 100 degrees. We stepped in to the bubbling water, each of us clutching the cold cocktail we’d been handed. 

The starry night was perfectly clear above us, and the scent of citrus blossoms wafted to us from the lime, lemon, and grapefruit trees in their backyard. Quite soon all the stress of the drive had melted away. We four always indulge in plenty of Mexican food when we get together and this weekend was no exception. 

For dinner we went to El Mirasol Cocina Mexicana (above), which sits right on a busy avenue but feels tucked away—and the food is fabulous. Russel picked cheese enchiladas and I got chile rellenos and we all four shared bites of delicious Chile Verde and Shrimp Picado. There’s nothing like sitting on a patio and watching the pretty people go by as you munch a freshly dipped chip and sip a tangy Skinny Margarita. It’s the perfect combination of relaxing and entertaining. 

The next morning started with a walk out at Whitewater Preserve (above), a spacious ramble with great mountain views that make it worth scrambling over the rocks. On previous trips we’ve hiked down at the Indian Canyons, just south of Palm Springs, winding our way through the palm tree-lined canyons. That’s the right spot for a shady stroll on a hot summer day, but on this weekend we had such cool weather there was no need to seek a shady oasis. 

 Lunch was Mexican again, but this time it was take-out from a great little place in a strip mall not far away. We had street tacos with black beans and rice, with lots of salsa picante and some spicy Bloody Marys to wash it all down, all consumed out in the back patio while Otis dashed and splashed after balls thrown into the pool. 

 Of course, walking around in downtown Palm Springs was necessary to burn off lunch so we’d be hungry for dinner later. The best way to feed our minds and spirits was visiting a couple of art galleries and some trendy interior design shops. Russel and I love to follow along and “shop” in places like that, taking in all the cool house and garden decor stuff that we will never need on our boat, but which are so much fun to look at. 

We always find the cinemas when we visit Palm Springs, even if we are not there in January for Palm Springs International Film Festival (left). You can always find great new movies running in one of the town’s many theaters, but after making and consuming a big salad and pasta dinner that night we four were happy to retreat to Blisters’ gloriously colorful living room, reclining on the comfy leather couches and watching Oscar Nominated DVD screeners on the big-screen TV. 

 The next morning they took us to a gorgeous golf course, so the four of us strolled and took pictures of the views while Otis trotted alongside, tired out from his earlier game of fetch with Neil in the adjacent park. Then it was home for a deli-inspired feast of sandwiches with potato salad, cole slaw, and all the fixings. 

We debated doing more shopping in town but decided on driving over to take the just-under-15-minute trip on the rotating cars of the famous Palm Springs Aerial Tramway (above) up the side of San Jacinto Peak. On this clear winter day, the views of the Valley were stunning. At Mountain Station, we walked into Mount San Jacinto State Park, strolled around in the snow and shivered a bit, then went back down the mountain to where it was 60° and sunny. 

 After dark on Sunday, it was time for some holiday fun. Neil had been telling us about Robolights and we just had to see it. Eccentric artist Kenny Irwin has created a very special brand of sculpture installation/event, which is almost impossible to describe—a guy with a penchant for baby dolls and other sorts of cultural icons has stuck everything including the kitchen sink together into bizarre tableaus and then lit it all with a zillion watts of lighting. You pay a few dollars per person—well worth it to wander through this plastic wonderland full of odd, scary, strange items, all arranged in weird and humorous ways. From outside it might look garish and overdone, but once you're inside, it's quite extraordinary—it is definitely overdone, but that is the point. It sounded like a bad joke when Neil first described it to us—an avid art collector himself, Neil’s taste can be quite avant garde—but we were definitely glad we went. It’s not like anything else I have ever seen, and I would highly recommend it for anybody going to Coachella Valley. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robolights  

Unfortunately, Monday morning Neil and Brad had to go back to Los Angeles so they could go to work, so we were on our own after hugs, pics, and goodbyes. Then it was off to The Front Porch in downtown where Russel and I shared a lovely meal at a sunny outdoor table. My bagel and lox plate was delicious (and so perfectly Palm Springs) and I got to try a bite of Russel’s cheesy spinach omelette. Then we strolled around to look at stores. From the Just Fabulous gift shop, which was all that and more, we strolled down to The Best Bookstore in Palm Springs (above). Seriously, that’s the name of the place, which was new to us, and it really was a great bookstore. Just catty corner across the street was the historic Welwood Murray Memorial Library, so we just had to “check it out.” 

We walked further down the avenue, doing some window shopping, and a few minutes later, we stopped in to the McCallum Adobe which houses the Palm Springs Historical Society. Inside, we perused the cool books and read all the plaques. After that, it was time for delicious ice cream at Great Shakes (below), only a few steps away. 

 

My dear husband, Russel is always interested in going to see old airplanes—we two have been to museums as far away as Pensacola, Florida, and as close as San Diego. Thank goodness we didn’t have to try and talk our friends into going to the Palm Springs Air Museum which was just a short car ride away. And, yes, I did enjoy it, especially seeing the P-51 Mustang (“Cadillac of the Sky!” as young Christian Bale cried in Empire of the Sun), I’d love to buy Russel a flight on a Mustang but at $2,000 an hour, that experience will have to wait for the next windfall. 

But we could feel like high-rollers for the price of a cocktail at Melvyn’s (above), at the Ingleside Inn Estate—just a couple blocks off the busy main boulevard but which feels a world away—and that is where we headed next. This lovely hideaway is one of the few remaining places in Coachella Valley where you can order a classic cocktail like a Ramos Fizz or a Boulevardier and not be met with a blank face and a “huh?” On a previous visit years back we’d been serenaded by a quartet playing old standards, but today found us among a very small group at the quiet, dimly-lit bar, which made the setting perfect for a low-key happy hour. The steak-heavy menu was tempting, but we decided not to stay for dinner, as we had leftovers to consume back at Blisters. We perused the vintage photos on the walls on our way out of the building, then stepped out to the street to find the sun setting over a city sparkling with holiday lights. 

 The final stop on our Palm Springs itinerary came the next morning, when we stopped about a half hour after tearfully leaving Blisters, which we knew would be going through a major renovation before we saw it next. In Cabazon, we stopped at the Desert Hills Premium Outlets for some serious shopping. There are dozens of discount outlets in the two malls and the stores include some of our favorites like Columbia and North Face. Later we packed our purchases in the trunk and headed south again, already missing our favorite desert home-away-from-home. We’ll definitely be back, and hopefully very soon.

Notes: An earlier version of this essay was originally published in Womancake Magazine in 2024; it is reprinted here with the permission of that publication. 

 Enjoy Womancake Magazine at: https://www.womancake.com/ 

 Follow Jennifer’s Substack at https://honeymoonatsea.substack.com/ "Honeymoon at Sea: How I Found Myself Living on a Small Boat" can be purchased online or please feel free to order it at your favorite bookstore. 

P-51 Mustang on display at the Palm Springs Air Museum

MEDIA MONDAY / CONGRESS MULLS SUPREME COURT TERM LIMITS

The Supreme Court building is at 1 First Street, NE, Washington DC on First Street NE between East Capitol Street and Maryland Avenue.  It's directly across from the U.S. Capitol and just north of the Jefferson wing of the Library of Congress.

Proposed Limits Set at 18-Years 

GUEST BLOG / By Newsweek's Senior Crime and Court Reporter Robert Alexander--A bill proposing term limits for Supreme Court justices has received a boost late last week after Representative Mike Levin, a California Democrat, announced his support for the measure on social media. 

The legislation, titled the Supreme Court Term Limits and Regular Appointments Act of 2025, was introduced in the House on February 6 and referred to the House Judiciary Committee. 

The proposal would reshape how long Supreme Court justices wield power and how often vacancies occur, altering an institution whose rulings have lasting national impact. 

By replacing lifetime appointments with fixed 18-year terms, the bill aims to create regular, predictable turnover and reduce the political intensity surrounding individual nominations. 

Supporters argue the change would limit the concentration of judicial power while preserving independence through continued service as senior justices. The measure also raises broader questions about the balance between the presidency and the Senate and reflects increasing scrutiny of the Court’s role, legitimacy, and accountability in American governance. 

What To Know 

The bill, H.R. 1074, would establish 18-year terms for Supreme Court justices and create a regular appointment schedule. Under its provisions, the president would nominate one justice during the first and third years following a presidential election, resulting in a new appointment every two years. 

The proposal is sponsored by Representative Ro Khanna of California and has multiple Democratic co-sponsors. 

In a post published December 11 on X, Levin said he was “proud to cosponsor a bill to set 18-year term limits for Supreme Court justices.” He wrote that “an 18-year term, with one new Justice appointed every two years, will bring balance and predictability,” adding, “No more strategic retirements. Just a steady, fair process that restores trust.” 

How It Would Change The Supreme Court 

The legislation would not require current justices to leave the Court. Justices appointed before the bill’s enactment would be exempt from the new term limits and would not be counted toward the nine-justice panel exercising judicial power, according to the text. 

After completing an 18-year term, newly appointed justices would be deemed retired from regular active service and designated as senior justices. As senior justices, former members of the Court could continue to perform judicial duties when designated and assigned by the chief justice, a system the bill models on existing practices in other parts of the federal judiciary. 

Levin highlighted this feature in his post, writing that justices would “continue contributing as senior judges, the same way it already works across much of the federal judiciary.” The bill also includes a provision addressing Senate confirmation delays. If the Senate does not act on a Supreme Court nominee within 120 days, it would be deemed to have waived its advice and consent authority, and the nominee would be seated automatically. 

Political And Legal Outlook 

Supporters argue that the measure would align the Supreme Court more closely with practices used by state courts. Levin wrote that “nearly every state uses some form of term limits or reappointment for their highest courts,” and said the proposal would “strengthen the system without politicizing it”. He also argued that lifetime appointments give individual justices “extraordinary power for far too long,” while term limits would “modernize” the Court and make it more accountable. 

The idea of Supreme Court term limits has circulated in Congress for years. A similar bill was introduced during the 117th Congress [2021-22] but did not advance. As with previous efforts, the current proposal faces legal and political questions, including whether such changes could be enacted by statute alone or would require a constitutional amendment. 

At this stage, H.R. 1074 has not received a hearing or a committee vote. Its prospects remain uncertain in a divided Congress, where changes to the Supreme Court have historically drawn intense scrutiny. 

What People Are Saying 

California Democrat Mike Levin on X wrote: “I’m proud to cosponsor a bill to set 18-year term limits for Supreme Court justices.” 

When asked about proposals to change how the Supreme Court is structured last year, a Trump campaign adviser said the then-GOP presidential nominee believes “the nomination of a Supreme Court justice is the most important decision an American President can make” and that he would continue appointing judges who “interpret the law as written.” 

What Happens Next 

The bill now sits with the House Judiciary Committee, which would need to hold hearings and advance it before any full House vote. If it were to pass the House, it would still need Senate approval and the president’s signature. Even then, the proposal could face court challenges over whether Supreme Court term limits can be imposed by statute rather than by constitutional amendment, leaving its ultimate future uncertain. 

SUNDAY REVIEW / The Ragged Majesty of Slow Horses

Why a fictional band of broken British spies has become the most human show on television 

Some television series arrive with glossy production values and the unmistakable polish of a major marketing push. Slow Horses, now one of the quiet triumphs of Apple TV+, does the opposite. Its world smells faintly of ashtrays, old curry, and the stale sigh of a bureaucracy that has given up on itself. And yet it has become one of the most affecting, most addictive dramas now running. 

Adapted from the Slough House novels by Mick Herron, the series unfolds not in Westminster’s postcard London but in the scuffed geometry of Aldersgate and Clerkenwell. These are the streets around the Barbican, where concrete towers and gray light form a permanent climate. Slough House itself sits on Aldersgate Street, a shabby building inhabited by MI5 agents who have made career-ending errors but remain too skilled—or too troublesome—to fire outright. Its lack of glamour is part of its magnetism. 

Fans regularly describe Slow Horses as the “anti-spy spy show.” Viewer comments echo the admiration: “There’s no glamour,” one wrote, “just damaged people, bad lighting, and the occasional miracle.” Gary Oldman’s Jackson Lamb—profane, rumpled, brilliant—is the gravitational force around which the misfits orbit. “You wouldn’t want him in your department,” another viewer noted, “but you can’t stop watching him do his job.” 

What elevates the series is the way its humor, dry as chalk dust, suddenly gives way to genuine emotional weight. The stakes arrive quietly. One longtime reader of Herron’s novels put it simply: “It’s a show about failure—not erasing it, but living with it.” In that uneasy tension between bleak comedy and bruised humanity lies the show’s particular charge. 

London's Aldersgate deserves an Emmy for Best Location

The geography matters. Slough House’s exterior, filmed in Aldersgate near the Barbican’s Brutalist arcades, offers a London rarely romanticized. Locals recognize the mood: the drizzle, the bus fumes, the corners where a career might be forgotten. One London viewer remarked, “It looks like the place where hope goes to die, and that’s why I root for them.” The setting is not merely backdrop; it is a character—drab, stubborn, and perfectly suited to the story. 

Mick Herron, the author behind the novels, is not a former spy. He worked for years in the publishing world after studying at Oxford. His eye for office politics, institutional pettiness, and the quiet despair of wasted talent informs every page. Not all spies make good writers or tale tellers.  This series is a creation of a non-spy.  It shows that and all for the better.

Slough House, he has said, owes as much to the workplaces he survived as to any intelligence agency lore. His prose—precise, dry, and unexpectedly compassionate—translates seamlessly to the screen. 

Apple TV+ has already committed to Season 6, with Season 7 in development. 

Based on the show’s reliable timetable, Season 6 is expected to arrive in the fall of 2026, likely adapting Herron’s novel Joe Country. Viewers can expect more of the show’s signature blend of wit, weariness, loyalty under strain, and the occasional, unlikely act of courage from people who long ago abandoned the idea of heroism. 

In an era awash in glossy universes and effortless fantasy, Slow Horses remains devoted to chipped paint, bad coffee, and the stubborn dignity of flawed people. It demonstrates that even in the dimmest corner of Aldersgate, perseverance can be its own kind of triumph. Or, as Jackson Lamb might phrase it—if he had the patience—every screwup gets a turn eventually. 

And in metaphor land Slow Horses is a show Americans have danced around for decades and failed to deliver.  The Brits admit there are class divisions as personified by actors Gary Oldham and Kristin Thomas.  Yanks pretend everyone is equal.  In a word, Slow Horses succeeds because of its honesty.

COFFEE BEANS & BEINGS / BARDOT, COFFEE AND A CAMEO

 

In American major league baseball there is a term "came up for a quick cup of coffee," which means a player made it to the "bigs" but just as quickly went back down to the minor leagues. In French film, things are more literal. Photo above, is Parisian proof of stopping by for a quick cup of coffee. 

1960s cine star Brigitte Bardot is not one of the principal actors in the film Masculin Féminin (1966). However, she does make a brief cameo appearance, above, in a typically Godardian, blink-and-you-miss-it fashion. 

The moment occurs when Paul (Jean-Pierre Léaud) and Robert (Michel Debord) are in a café: a woman is glimpsed, and the dialogue makes a passing, ironic reference to Bardot’s star persona. 

Godard, who had previously directed Bardot in Le Mépris (1963), uses her presence here less as a character and more as an iconic echo of 1960s celebrity culture — part of the film’s ongoing contrast between pop-culture superficiality and political seriousness. Art aside BB is there to sell tickets.  End of mystery.

So:

• Bardot does appear very briefly, essentially as herself. Her fleeting presence functions like a visual quotation — a reminder that even in Godard’s “documentary of youth,” the mythology of fame still hovers over modern life. 

• She is not a major part of the narrative, which focuses on Léaud’s Paul and Chantal Goya’s Madeleine, pictured below.

• For you trivia junkies the cafe scene was filmed inside Cafe Zoo, which is now called Monument Cafe Zoo de Paris (entrance via Avenue Daumesnil, 75012). 

FOGGY FRIDAY / WRONG GUY TO BE ASLEEP AT THE SWITCH

President Trump’s travails look more and more like President Biden’s 

 GUEST BLOG / By Frank Bruni, Columnist, The New York Times.--Just how run-down must a raging narcissist be to snooze through tributes to his own greatness? 

At a cabinet meeting last week, President Trump didn’t merely close his eyes and achieve a droopy stillness universally recognized as a vertical nap. He did so during a gathering convened at least in part so he could bathe in his acolytes’ flattery. 

They batted their eyes at him; his eyelids fluttered shut. He might want to think twice about letting the television cameras in next time around.

And the rest of us might want to brace ourselves for some presidential déjà vu. 

He’s starting to give President Joe Biden vibes. I’m in no way suggesting any equivalence or near equivalence in their characters. Biden meant well, regarded governing as serious business and radiated decency. Trump means to be either feared or worshiped, regards governing as show business and revels in cruelty and mockery, which are flexes of his power. 

But there are echoes of what bedeviled Biden in what’s bedeviling Trump. 

And I’m talking about more than Trump’s arguably diminished energy and the inarguably intensifying public attention to it. I’m also talking about the economy — and Trump’s spectacular failure to allay voters’ anxieties. 

The rap on Biden during the second half of his term was that he didn’t fully understand how financially stressed many Americans were and that he clung to a tone-deaf insistence that conditions were better than people’s perceptions of them. 

Trump, in the first year of his current term, has attained an aloofness that Biden could only dream of. At that cabinet meeting, Trump challenged the very idea that the cost of living was on voters’ minds and waged war on a perfectly good noun, dismissing “affordability” as a Democratic hoax and hex. “They just say the word,” Trump groused. “It doesn’t mean anything to anybody. They just say it — affordability.” 

Secret Service agent: "Is he asleep or did he find gum on his shoe?"

What made his gripe doubly bizarre is that he himself has talked about affordability time and again, in his indictments of the economy under Biden and his boasts about his own economic plans and progress. He talked about it when he and Zohran Mamdani, the mayor-elect of New York City, made nice in the Oval Office just two and a half weeks ago, beaming at each other as the journalists in attendance picked their jaws up off the floor.

 “Some of his ideas really are the same ideas that I have,” the president told them. “A big thing on cost. The new word is ‘affordability.’ Another word, it’s just ‘groceries.’ It’s sort of an old-fashioned word, but it’s very accurate. They are coming down.” 

The “coming down” part presumably refers to food prices, but with Trump’s fugitive grammar, you never know. That phrasing was uncharacteristically understated. Trump tends toward the kind of hyperbole he spewed at Laura Ingraham on Fox News last month, when he claimed that “we have the greatest economy we’ve ever had.” During that interview, he also said polls showing that Americans were worried about it are fake, a deflection so similar to one that Biden made a year and a half earlier that on CNN, the anchor Abby Phillip did a side-by-side comparison of the two presidents’ remarks. She introduced it with a question: “When it comes to the economy, is Donald Trump taking messaging advice from Joe Biden?” 

He’s certainly not learning lessons from Biden’s troubles. In a recent column in The Economist with the clever print headline “Say It Ain’t Joe,” James Bennet recalled the audacious flurry of executive orders Biden signed in his first 100 days, the sweep of his legislative ambition, how fervently he believed that voters had demanded nothing less and how much all of that came back to haunt him later on. 

Bring to mind any other president you know? 

Whether Trump gets his comeuppance remains to be seen, but his approval ratings have declined in recent months, and so, by the looks of things, has his vigor. Of course, his indefatigably adoring press secretary, Karoline Leavitt, disputes that; she said that Trump was “listening attentively” rather than dozing furtively as cabinet members extolled his and his administration’s wonders. She directed those who doubt his vim to the “epic moment” during the meeting when he attacked Representative Ilhan Omar, Democrat of Minnesota, and other Somali immigrants to America. You know, the one in which he called them “garbage.” I guess xenophobia is now a proxy for stamina. 

Biden was 82 at the end of his presidency. Trump is 79 now, and he undeniably moves more fluidly, speaks more loudly and mixes it up with journalists more frequently than his predecessor did. But there are suggestions aplenty that he’s slowing down, as Katie Rogers and Dylan Freedman detailed in a recent article in The Times. 

And Americans are once again on a kind of presidential fitness watch, reading the tea leaves of bruises, blotches, gaffes. Are Trump’s baffling non sequiturs, herky-jerky syntax and fantastical misrepresentations of fact just a wholly unleashed, fully emboldened version of who he has always been, or is his focus blurring? What was up with his swollen ankles and the discoloration, partly concealed by makeup, on the back of one of his hands? 

And how to solve the mystery of the M.R.I. that he had at Walter Reed National Military Medical Center in October? Trump’s comments about it are the stuff of a “Saturday Night Live” skit. 

He has said that he gave the news media the full results of the test, a claim contradicted by the fact that we don’t even know what part of his body physicians were looking at, and when reporters asked him that, he professed ignorance. “I have no idea what they analyzed,” he told a group of them on Air Force One recently. “But whatever they analyzed, they analyzed it well, and they said that I had as good a result as they’ve ever seen.” 

This from a man who still routinely rants about the evasions and deceptions of “Sleepy Joe” Biden? 

Wake up, Mr. [current] President. You’re not fooling anyone. 

THE FOODIST / LA’s Pure Art Deco Dining & Music Extravaganza

Wrapping up PillartoPost.org's year-long salute to the centennial of Art Deco Design

Los Angeles has no shortage of restaurants that call themselves glamorous, but only one feels genuinely carried forward from another era. Cicada, inside the 1928 Oviatt Building, isn’t themed and isn’t nostalgic—it’s the real architectural artifact of a city that once believed elegance was a civic duty. 

The gold-leaf ceiling rises high above the room; a mezzanine runs like an upper-deck observation rail; etched glass and polished metalwork catch the light the way designers intended nearly a century ago. Simply walking in adjusts your posture. 

Cicada becomes its fullest self on nights when music takes the room. A full orchestra or swing band sets up on the built-in stage, warming up as dinner service eases into motion. It’s not background sound. The band is part of the architecture, and when it starts, the restaurant turns into a genuine supper club. Some guests dance. Others stay at their tables and simply let the atmosphere soak in. Either way, the night becomes something more than a meal.  

Deco, Dining, Dancing

Adding live music to the experience is easy, though first-timers often miss how to do it well. Cicada’s music calendar is posted online, and band nights often sell out well ahead of time, especially the big swing evenings. Reservations are essential for those nights; walk-ins rarely find a seat once the first horn sounds. Guests who prefer a quieter musical backdrop can choose evenings with smaller ensembles—jazz trios, vintage vocalists, or orchestral pop sets—which offer the full Deco mood without the packed dance floor. 

The mezzanine works especially well for these nights, giving diners a clear view of the stage and the full sweep of the room.  

Arriving early is part of the fun. Showing up a half hour before your reservation lets you catch the soundcheck, a private-feeling interlude when the musicians warm up and the room seems to wake from a long sleep. Swing-dance nights sometimes include short lessons beforehand, and regulars often arrive in period attire, though nothing about Cicada requires it. The room makes space for everyone—dancers, diners, and people who simply enjoy watching a timeless ritual unfold.  

Oviatt Building Circa 1928

The menu follows the same philosophy: classic Continental and Italian dishes prepared with quiet confidence. Pastas, steaks, lobster, a scattering of traditional starters—nothing forced, nothing ironic, everything in harmony with the room. The food doesn’t compete with the show; it supports it. In a space this visually and musically charged, that balance is essential.  

Cicada stands alone as the last of Los Angeles’s true Art Deco dining rooms, still operating in the spirit in which it was built. Plenty of restaurants try to evoke Hollywood’s golden age; this one simply continues it. Filmmakers use the room because it already looks cinematic. Diners return because it offers a rare sensation in any city: a night out that feels like an occasion.  

For anyone wanting to meet Los Angeles at its most theatrical and most sincere, Cicada remains the essential address—especially when the band is playing and the gold ceiling begins to glow.  

Cicada is located at 617 S. Olive Street in downtown Los Angeles. Reservations may be made by calling 213-488-9488. For event inquiries or larger parties, the restaurant may be reached at events@cicadarestaurant.com . Additional details, menus, and the live-music calendar are available at cicadarestaurant.com. 

1 PIX = 1K WORDS / ANOTHER LATE FALL DAY IN PARADISE

Aerial view facing North along the iconic Mission Beach isthmus
in San Diego.    

THINK PIECE / AI Is Here. Now What?

By Thomas Shess, Editorial Intern, PillartoPost.org Daily Online Magazine.  

Artificial intelligence has arrived in full daylight, no longer the stuff of futurists, laboratory theorists, or Silicon Valley mystics. It is already behind the wheel, in the cockpit, in the operating room, and in our pockets. The question is no longer if AI will reshape our daily lives, but how far we let it run before we set the ground rules.   

Take Waymo. A driverless taxi glides down Valencia Street today with more confidence than a 19-year-old on a learner’s permit. Cameras, radar, LiDAR, and cloud-linked navigation now combine to make decisions in milliseconds—many of them safer than human reflexes. 

But the moral question hovers: when an autonomous car runs over a cat or worse a MAGA voter, who’s responsible? The engineer? The programmer? The algorithm? Or the absent driver? Cities like San Francisco are discovering that “the future” also brings regulatory headaches that voters never anticipated.   

Then there are the jets. Commercial aircraft already fly themselves for most of every journey. Auto-throttle, fly-by-wire, precision GPS, collision-avoidance systems: pilots today supervise more than they “fly.” The next step—pilotless regional hops—is not fantasy. The technology exists. The hurdle is trust. Passengers understand turbulence. They do not yet understand software making the landing all by itself in a crosswind.   

And surgeries. AI doesn’t just guide robots; it helps diagnose conditions weeks earlier than traditional imaging. Algorithms can now flag a tumor with more accuracy than a radiologist having a good day. Robots can perform microsurgery impossible for the human wrist. The danger is not that AI replaces surgeons—it’s that hospitals lean so heavily on automation they grow complacent.   

So what happens next?   

AI’s arrival isn’t a single invention. It’s a cascade moment, the way electricity once was. To stop it would be like trying to ban the light bulb. But the role of culture, law, and community is to define how we coexist with a technology that does not get tired, does not get bored, and does not have a conscience.   

We need to move the conversation away from doom and utopia and toward stewardship. We control the knobs. We decide the guardrails. We define whether AI becomes a civic asset or a runaway experiment.   

AI is here. It is not asking permission. The question is: are we ready to lead it, or will we let it lead us?

 us?

MEDIA MONDAY / GOONIES SPREADING THE BLAME AROUND

 

RETRO FILES / The evolution of the deadly American flying gunships

Every December 7 carries an echo. 

Birth of the American Aerial Gunship

That date in infamy returns each year not only as a remembrance of Pearl Harbor, but as a reminder of how American airpower was forced to grow up overnight. 

In the stunned aftermath of 1941, our aircraft designers and combat crews learned quickly that survival in the Pacific demanded something new: machines that could hit back hard, fly low, and punish the enemy at close range. 

Out of that crucible emerged the first true American flying gunships that grew from wartime improvisation into some of the most feared aircraft ever built. The lineage stretches back to World War II, when young crews in B-25 Mitchells found their medium bombers could be refitted as low-flying strafers—fast, rugged, and vicious at tree-top level. Hard points sprouted along the fuselage and wings, and their noses bristled with .50-caliber guns as the Pacific campaigns demanded aircraft capable of ripping through supply barges, airstrips, and lightly armored ships. In the crucible of war, the idea of a side-firing attack aircraft was born.

By the late stages of the war, the concept evolved further in aircraft like the A-20 Havoc and the A-26 Invader, both reconfigured for brutal, close-quarters work. These were the ancestors of the modern gunship philosophy: hit hard, loiter when possible, and keep pressure on the battlefield long after faster fighters had to peel away. Their descendants would follow American troops into every major conflict of the next century, adapting to jungle, desert, and mountain with equal ferocity.

A-130 "Good Morning, Vietnamer" in action

The AC-130 gunship emerged from Vietnam’s harsh arithmetic, where slow-flying transports needed teeth to protect ground forces pinned down in the jungle. What began as a modified C-130 Hercules—fitted first with side-firing miniguns and rapid-fire cannons—quickly evolved into one of the most formidable close-air-support platforms in modern warfare. Engineers discovered that the big Hercules could orbit a target like a patient hawk, delivering withering, pinpoint fire from an array of Gatling guns, Bofors cannons, and eventually a 105-mm howitzer, the largest gun ever mounted on a U.S. combat aircraft. Over successive variants, from the AC-130A “Spectre” to the later “Spooky,” “Stinger,” and today’s AC-130J “Ghostrider,” the aircraft transformed from a nighttime guardian of infantry patrols into a precision-strike machine integrating infrared sensors, radar, laser-guided munitions, and modern battlefield networking. What remains unchanged is its mission: to stay overhead when troops need it most, delivering overwhelming firepower with uncanny accuracy—an airborne evolution directly traceable to the rough-and-ready gunships of World War II.

"Brrrrrrt"

That lineage came full circle in the long years of Iraq and Afghanistan, where the modern A-10 Warthog—essentially a flying Gatling gun with wings—shouldered the low-altitude strafing role once pioneered by the B-25s and Invaders. Designed around the fearsome GAU-8 Avenger cannon, the A-10 proved the timeless truth that close-air support demands durability, simplicity, and a willingness to get down in the dust with the troops. While faster jets streaked overhead, it was the Warthog and the AC-130 that lingered, hunted, and covered the convoys inching through hostile valleys.

  From B-25 gunships in the Pacific to the lumbering AC-130s circling over Middle Eastern battlefields, the idea has remained constant: find an aircraft strong enough to take punishment, stable enough to orbit, and lethal enough to change the fate of those fighting on the ground. On a date when Americans remember the cost of unprepared skies, it is fitting to trace this long arc of innovation—how necessity, ingenuity, and sheer battlefield need transformed a series of airframes into the flying gunships that define American close-air support to this day.

COFFEE BEANS & BEINGS / ITALY'S 100-YEAR-OLD BARISTA THRIVES RUNNING HER OWN PLACE

Anna Possi poses for a photo behind the counter of her bar. Photos by Claudia Greco/Thomsen-Reuters.

GUEST BLOG / By Lisa Jucca, Reporter Thomsen-Reuters--In the village of Nebbiuno, perched on the Piedmont hills overlooking Lake Maggiore, Anna Possi is pulling espressos at Bar Centrale — just as she has done every day since 1958. 

 Despite having recently celebrated her 101st birthday, Italy's longest-serving barista shows no sign of slowing down. From behind the counter of the cafe she opened with her husband, more than six decades ago, Possi greets locals and tourists alike with the same precision and stamina that has defined her life’s work. 

Anna Possi talks to some customers outside her bar. REUTERS/Claudia Greco.

Possi, who was awarded Italy’s honorary title of Commander of the Republic last year for her lifelong service, has lived through war, economic booms, and cultural shifts. 

Speaking with Reuters over an espresso, she reflects on Italy’s changing coffee culture, as well as her secret recipe for longevity. 

Q. What first drew you to this work? 

A. My parents had a restaurant, bar and tobacco shop, and sold newspapers. I started working at 18, right after school. Since my uncles had restaurants in Genoa, I moved there in 1946, just after (World War Two) finished. I learned everything from the ground up — serving, cleaning, managing. 

It was a change from the war years: In Nebbiuno, we were caught between two fires — partisans (Italian resistance members) in the mountains and Germans on the lake shores. We were in constant danger. Later, I married my husband, who also ran a bar and restaurant. I did a bit of everything to save on costs. When that became too much, we came back to our home region and opened this tiny bar in Nebbiuno, just the two of us. 

No staff, no frills. It was initially just a coffee house because we did not have the license to sell alcohol. But when my husband’s aunt, who had raised him like a son, died in 1960, we expanded it a bit because she lived next door. When my husband passed away, in 1974, I continued on my own. It's been 51 years of working alone, as a widow, in this bar. But I like it because I like to be surrounded by people. 

Q. How has coffee culture changed since you first opened? 

A. In the early days, the bar was buzzing. We had five paper mills nearby: Customers used to come in the morning, have their coffee, and the workers would have a little grappa (an Italian spirit). We worked a lot back when the paper mills were running. There was a rhythm; it was a different kind of work. 

In the '60s, we added the dance floor. And people started to come from far (away), from the towns of Arona and Omegna. They came from all over because my bar was different, (it) was new. 

The village also had a restaurant and a trattoria, but we were the only place with a lakeview and an open-air dance floor. During that time, I had a great clientele, it was all lawyers, doctors, engineers — people who came and spent money. This bar is a bit like family, you know? 

Anna looks out from inside her bar.

Q. What role do cafes like yours play in Italian culture? 

A. This bar is a bit like family, you know? It does not feel like a bar; it's a meeting place. People come not just to consume, but to connect. They ask me to pass messages to the town hall, to the doctor. I help with paperwork, errands. I’m always available for everyone. 

If someone wants to use the bar to show their artwork, for instance, I say yes. And I do it for free. They’re customers, they give me business. Why would I ask for money? If customers leave something, it’s nice, because whatever they leave me always goes to charitable causes. 

 I’ve seen generations grow up. Some grandparents come in with their grandkids and say, “Anna, remember the jukebox?” Today, however, young people no longer come to the bar. They came when we had the dance floor and the music. Today, they like to spend time with the smartphone; they even take it to bed when they go to sleep. 

 Q: Has working as a barista helped you maintain good health? 

 A. Work is what distracts you and at the same time gives you something — it makes you feel independent. You don’t have to depend on others. Here in Piedmont, the women all worked, even back in the days when I was young — some in the fields, some doing housework, and others took on jobs from outside companies and worked from home. This wasn’t the kind of town where women stayed idle. I tell my granddaughters: work, save, don’t depend on anyone. The world is getting harder. 

Left: A sign reads 'Grandma Anna 100', inside Anna Possi's bar. 

Q: Is there a particular customer or story that’s stayed with you? 

 A. When the AC Milan football team trained nearby, that created a bit of a buzz because all the girls wanted autographs and such from the footballers. And since these players used to come to my bar, there was a lot of movement. They would stay at the hotel, train and then, around six in the afternoon, come here for an aperitif. And that attracted the girls. They went wild for Gianni Rivera, Egidio Calloni, Fulvio Collovati. It was a lively time. And these are memories that stuck with me. 

About the Author Lisa Jucca is the Global Industry Editor for Consumer Goods, Luxury & Retail at Reuters. She leads coverage of the world’s top companies shaping how we shop and live. Previously, Lisa was Breakingviews’ European Business Editor, analyzing corporate and financial trends across the EU. Her career spans senior roles in Asia and Europe, including Asia Finance Editor and Italy’s Chief Financial Correspondent. She has reported on the fall of Swiss bank secrecy, the euro zone crisis, China's debt-fueled economy and numerous M&A battles. Her investigative work on Vatican-China relations has been commended by SOPA. She has published a book about the Hong Kong protests.  She loves espresso.