As trends go, it's not a pretty picture. The luster has dimmed on some of our state's iconic companies. Look at the headlines.

Microsoft stock struggles to stay above $30 a share. CEO Steve Ballmer calls Windows Vista "a work in progress" -- hardly the swagger we'd expect from a master of the software universe.

Corporate dining rooms serve humble pie. Fisher Communications' stock drops 40 percent. Boeing loses a $35 billion Air Force tanker contract to Airbus parent EADS. The Seattle Times announces layoffs. Starbucks ousts its CEO. Washington Mutual's stock falls 75 percent. And the Seattle Sonics pack their bags, bound for Oklahoma City.

This hurts because we have long enjoyed proximity to great companies; their leaders just seemed smarter, more innovative and more interesting than their rivals.

In any given month, you could see somebody from our state featured on the cover of BusinessWeek, Forbes or Fortune. That fed our sense of pride. It felt strongest when you visited friends in other places. People want to know about Starbucks or other big players in our constellation of stars.

You live in Seattle? What's Bill Gates like? Why yes, I did see him at a movie theater the other day. He sat just four rows away. Ate Goobers, if I recall correctly. He almost knows me.

Hollywood has movie stars. We have our business legends.

It's not a myth. There is something in our water. Our region gave rise to Gates, Craig McCaw, Howard Schultz, Jeff Bezos, John Stanton and others. We minted billionaire geniuses who illuminated our civic landscape and set an example for others. In basketball, the mantra was to be like Mike. In golf, be like Tiger. In business, be like Howard or Bill, our guys.

It's not unusual for regions to get a sense of identity from leaders in business. That's true for all great cities of the world. But it's especially true in Seattle, where identity was influenced by a line from Henry Yesler to Bill Boeing to Dorothy Bullitt. Seattle's recent business leaders rose in prominence just as business journalism, turbocharged by digital delivery, found a global audience; it was a perfect match of story, audience and vehicle. Bill, Howard and the rest seemed suited for the medium. They didn't wear ties. They promoted a sense of cool as much as products. They went by their first names. They were wealthy enough to live anywhere. But they chose Seattle. For the rest of us in this rainy corner of the country, it felt really good.

But the ground has shifted. The icons that helped define our image to the world now look vulnerable, troubled or at least flawed. We had read that our business superstars wore capes and leapt over business problems. But somebody rolled kryptonite into the party. Our pride goeth as they stall.

The worm turns, of course. Recessions end. Great companies bounce back. Nordstrom did. Now Amazon. WaMu and Starbucks may yet restore the mojo. But something else is in play.

Call it heresy or just bad manners to say so, but our business icons are getting older. The great companies of our era were built largely by baby boomers whose skills matched the moment, and their companies flourished and then matured. That is certainly evident at Starbucks, where Schultz tries to restore lift to the latte foam. Can he do it? This may be the most interesting moment of his career.

Businesses run in cycles. Schultz may lead Starbucks to yet another level of success. Or not. And that brings to mind the inevitable, that this generation of legends will be succeeded by another. The stars we know will eventually retire. Another generation will fill the business pages. Where will they come from? That's the fun part.