The Lincoln Center Follies are in the news these days, what with the
unexpected (except by insiders) resignation on September 28, after only a few
months' tenure, of President Gordon J. Davis, and the subsequent decamping of
the Chairman of the Lincoln Center Redevelopment Corporation, Marshall Rose
(announced on October 22). The events of September 11, of course, contributed to
a great extent to this — certainly with respect to the latter
resignation — but the Center's problems pre-date and in fact have
little to do with the recent disasters.
There are, essentially, two separate but interlinked and ongoing stories, both of which have been fraught with internal contention. One is the perceived need to spend a very large sum of money (in the neighborhood of $300 million) for basic maintenance of the infrastructure of the sprawling facility: for renovating the heating and air-conditioning systems and for renewing and refurbishing the acres of travertine marble with which the Center was built and clad, and which — although it has impeccable imperial Roman cachet — is extremely susceptible to urban pollution.
This recognized need was used as a basis for a wide-ranging "wish list" of projects, reportedly developed over the past two years, from several of the constituent members of the Center and from the Center itself: most notably, the gutting (once again) of Avery Fisher Hall, home of the New York Philharmonic, in the search for better acoustics and for more luxurious amenities for its patrons, and the building of a new opera house for the New York City Opera, at present an unhappy tenant in the New York State Theater (which was purpose-built for the New York City Ballet).
Rumors persisted that, once the "wish list" was at least tacitly accepted (if never officially approved or promulgated) sometime in 2000, a number of frills began to be added by the Center and the constituents — most egregiously, a roof covering the Plaza to protect the audiences from rain and snow. The costs, of course, also escalated — to a reported figure of $1.5 billion dollars.
Raising this enormous sum made the constituents, particularly those not involved in major renovations themselves, very nervous. And here the renewal project intersected with the other — ongoing — problem afflicting Lincoln Center, one which had been evident from its earliest existence.
That problem is the fundamental relationship of the Center's various constituents — eleven participating in this project, including the Metropolitan Opera, New York City Opera, Lincoln Center Theater, New York City Ballet, Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center, Film Society of Lincoln Center, Jazz at Lincoln Center, Library-Museum of the Performing Arts, the New York Philharmonic, The Juilliard School — with Lincoln Center Inc. itself. For most of them, the optimal scenario would be for Lincoln Center (hereinafter LCI) to act as a superior janitor and watchman, keeping the site (called "the campus") clean and safe, and raising enough money to share some of it with them. The constituents become uneasy when LCI develops its own programs (especially in competing areas, like opera, ballet and theater); though they recognize that LCI has a duty to try and fill the largely unbooked venues such as Alice Tully Hall and the dark nights at Avery Fisher Hall, they do not like money being spent for events "off-campus" (in, for example, the nearby John Jay College Theater) — or, more fundamentally, for extravaganzas such as the summertime Lincoln Center Festival.
Since all the constituents run at a deficit and need every funding source they can dig up, they are not encouraged by elaborate spending plans which may, in all probability, drain funds from their own coffers.
On the other hand, LCI maintains that its duty, as a New York and national showcase, is to present the finest work — and that LCI's direct involvement in creating programs (such as the Lincoln Center Festival, Mostly Mozart and various winter events) can only help the constituents by focusing attention on the arts and on the primacy of Lincoln Center as an arts venue in the United States. This was the central idea of Lincoln Center's first President, the noted composer William Schuman; though he was only partly successful, his ideas have continued to be championed by successors such as Martin Segal and Nathan Leventhal.
There is little doubt that the creation of the expensive Lincoln Center Festival in 1997 exacerbated the hostility of some of the constituents, but the shrewd diplomacy of LCI's Board Chairman, Beverly Sills, allowed the Festival to continue and to have a place in the annual program. But the ever-escalating costs of the redevelopment project, and the likelihood that what was once considered a fantasy "wish list" would indeed be made a reality, led to emotions boiling over — well before September 11.
Essentially, once the frills are eliminated, the areas of contention are two: the new opera house and the extent of the renovation of Avery Fisher Hall. The Lincoln Center Theater has already renovated its space (with its own funds) and next-door neighbor the Library-Museum of the Performing Arts has just returned to its home, now thoroughly redesigned. Jazz at Lincoln Center will occupy quarters in the new Time-Warner Building on Columbus Circle. The New York City Ballet — if City Opera moves out — will develop the New York State Theater entirely for ballet, and the Metropolitan Opera's plans — to move the front wall of the opera house into the plaza to grant more room inside for dining areas and walkways — has received tacit approval and is largely already funded.
Shortly after the State Theater opened, New York City Opera left the City Center theater on West 55th Street and joined the New York City Ballet as co-tenant. In its early years at Lincoln Center, such stars as Sills and Norman Treigle gave the company a certain prominence that at the time justified the move to more lavish and expensive quarters. But City Opera has long been dissatisfied with the State Theater, because of both its subordinate position vis-à-vis the ballet company and because of the inferior acoustics of the theater, which was deliberately designed (at Balanchine's request) to deaden the sound of the dancers' footfalls. City Opera maintains that these circumstances have forced it to install an acoustic enhancement, which has been received with some displeasure by the critics. The company has been quietly agitating for a new, smaller house; when a donor appeared about 18 months ago, ready to put up a good deal of the money, the project went from idea to possibility.
It is not surprising that the Metropolitan Opera (whose annual budget — $202 million in 2001–02 — dwarfs that of all other constituents) took offense, especially when the site suggested for such an opera house — Damrosch Park — was next door. Rich as the Met is, it needs to sell every ticket it can; the specter of a competing company in a state-of-the-art opera house (one funded in part with LCI contributions, no less) led to the Met's moving to block the plan. Met officials do state that, in principle, they do not object to a new New York City Opera house — somewhere else.
Where that off-campus location could be is a real question, given the lack of suitable sites and the costs of developing any venue found. Since September 11, of course, these difficulties have only increased for the company; it seems that, for the immediate future, City Opera's home will remain the State Theater.
The question of what to do with Avery Fisher Hall also remains. If it is gutted, as is envisioned, the orchestra will have to locate elsewhere, and where that will be is uncertain. Carnegie Hall is the obvious site, since the orchestra came from there, but a full Philharmonic season there would take over most of the programming and reduce Carnegie Hall's visibility as a dynamic arts presence. Other possibilities are unknown — not to speak of the effect of the move on subscribers, that bedrock of all arts organizations. The Philharmonic's incoming Music Director, Lorin Maazel, may be a familiar and top-level "brand name," but he has never shown the ability to sell tickets that his predecessor Leonard Bernstein had— and Maazel will have to sell many tickets in the Philharmonic's exile.
The first task of LCI will be to find a successor as President to Gordon Davis. This will not be easy, since that person must be able to work with the strong-willed Beverly Sills, the Lincoln Center Board of Directors and the warring constituents to finalize, and then act upon, the revised redevelopment plan which was announced on 6 November and tentatively budgeted at $1.2 billion. Given the bruised feelings all around, this is a formidable task, but the altered fiscal environment and the new realities may serve to make it easier.
The plan as announced does not include the roof, but does set aside $240 million for a new opera house (if a site can be found) and includes what is termed "an extensive redesign" of Avery Fisher Hall, among many other items. The plan was agreed to by the fractious constituents and made public because of the need for funds promised by the administration of New York City Mayor Rudy Giuliani; those municipal monies were contingent on an announced plan. But the likelihood of significant city funding has been called into question because of the 11 September catastrophe and its aftermath, which leave the city and incoming Mayor Michael Bloomberg facing severe financial difficulties. So it would seem that the $1.2 billion figure would have to be trimmed, though to what extent is unknown.
It is clear that the spending on Lincoln Center's infrastructure is necessary
and that some additional expenses are justified. It remains to be seen how much
of the "wish list" will ultimately be incorporated into the project —
and to what extent, and with what enthusiasm, the constituents will support the
inevitable fundraising to be done (in addition to their own development efforts)
in this restricted charitable climate.
