Adam Fieled (editor, Plymouth Meeting, Pennsylvania): "The Ritz"
Like anyone else bent towards the substantial, Mary
had to live in the world as it was. She had to make her
picks, out of the daily culture that was just around,
what to patronize— what to watch, what to listen to.
Politics were perfunctory for her. For us, too, because
I always felt politics dwells too much on present-mindedness.
The movies Miss H chose to watch, and for us to watch
together, were mostly European art-house. That’s why nights
at The Ritz, Philly’s choice art-house theater in those days,
were always special. As I could never not be amused with,
European art-house for Miss H often devolved into what
I called Euro-Smarm. These were the kind of European
dramatic presentations with a patina of artiness about them,
but beneath, if you looked closely at plot, characterization,
it was just The Young and the Restless again. Specifically,
The Ritz at the Bourse, where I took Mary to see Amelie
on what amounted to our first date, and chundered through
two hours of totalized tweeness that took me on a heart-
of-darkness journey about what my future held, was attractive
to Mary on other levels. The theaters were underground, so to
speak, so that you would need to take a long escalator down to
reach them. Other amenities, red plush carpeting, a concession
stand tastefully placed in the center of a composition with theater
doors to the right of it, the sense that one could see, even from
the bottom of the escalators, up onto Fourth Street, through
a series of large, artful glass panes, made Mary feel comfortable
patronizing The Ritz. She did so as an individual, as was important, not
declasse. Against the world, Mary at her best knew how to make herself comfortable.
© Adam Fieled 2026
had to live in the world as it was. She had to make her
picks, out of the daily culture that was just around,
what to patronize— what to watch, what to listen to.
Politics were perfunctory for her. For us, too, because
I always felt politics dwells too much on present-mindedness.
The movies Miss H chose to watch, and for us to watch
together, were mostly European art-house. That’s why nights
at The Ritz, Philly’s choice art-house theater in those days,
were always special. As I could never not be amused with,
European art-house for Miss H often devolved into what
I called Euro-Smarm. These were the kind of European
dramatic presentations with a patina of artiness about them,
but beneath, if you looked closely at plot, characterization,
it was just The Young and the Restless again. Specifically,
The Ritz at the Bourse, where I took Mary to see Amelie
on what amounted to our first date, and chundered through
two hours of totalized tweeness that took me on a heart-
of-darkness journey about what my future held, was attractive
to Mary on other levels. The theaters were underground, so to
speak, so that you would need to take a long escalator down to
reach them. Other amenities, red plush carpeting, a concession
stand tastefully placed in the center of a composition with theater
doors to the right of it, the sense that one could see, even from
the bottom of the escalators, up onto Fourth Street, through
a series of large, artful glass panes, made Mary feel comfortable
patronizing The Ritz. She did so as an individual, as was important, not
declasse. Against the world, Mary at her best knew how to make herself comfortable.
© Adam Fieled 2026
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