Long Island is different in many ways from other parts of New York state and in fact from the entire mainland. Its shopping mall culture and cookie cutter housing developments may be cliches, but surprisingly often, not far beneath the brittle facade, you can catch glimpses of its maritime and agricultural origins. It's truly insular, at heart reluctant to change. Swezey's was in many ways the quintessential Long Island business. Although it tried to keep up with the changing times, there was something charmingly anachronistic about the company and the way it did business.
As a small retailer, Swezey's didn't compete by selling cheaper, flashier, trendier merchandise; they just made the customer feel at home. Until about ten years ago, they would ship a purchase for no extra charge -- whether that purchase was a single pair of socks or an entire wardrobe. Gift wrapping was also free. Returns were truly no-hassle; there were stories of customers returning items without a receipt a year after purchase and still receiving full refunds, no questions asked.
But times change. Last Friday, Swezey's, citing the soft economy, declining profits, and stiff competition from big box retailers and online merchants, announced that the company had decided to close all their stores. Employees would be paid one week's severance pay for every year they'd worked for Swezey's. As might be expected, there were many oldtimers in the ranks of the company's 250 regular employees. Some had worked for Swezey's for decades.
I visited the East Setauket Swezey's on Saturday, the day after an article about the closing had run in Newsday with the headline "A Death on Main Street." The store was mobbed. The liquidation sale was in full swing; everything was marked down between 30 and 50 percent. There were the usual mall mavens, prowling the aisles intent on booty. But more than the bargains and bargain hunters, what grabbed my attention was the sheer number of people, many of them middle aged or older, carefully dressed, who were simply standing around reminiscing. I was powerfully reminded of a community wake, where everyone swaps stories about how the deceased affected their lives. No doubt this scene was being repeated in all the Swezey's stores. For countless Long Islanders, the loss of this place was like the loss of a family member.
I wish I had some profound, incisive comment to make about the sorry state of American mega-commerce, about the crunching juggernauts of corporate greed and the loss of things that can never be recovered. All I can say is that I'm going to miss Swezey's Department Store.
Whatever its faults, it was a physical link to another, probably better time.
