Lack of galas casts pall over fall for arts lovers

For the first time in my memory, the party tents are not being erected next to Davies Symphony Hall and the War Memorial Opera House this month.

Fall gala week, when the San Francisco Symphony and Opera celebrate the start of their seasons, is another tradition canceled because of the pandemic. Seasonopening galas are superfluous when there isn’t a season.

I know that the mention of gala week has probably sent some of my gentle readers into notsogentle conniptions. I can hear the usual complaints: “How dare you write about these silly nights attended by rulingclass onepercenters?” “Eat the rich at their fancy parties!” “We have more important things to worry about than parties.”

Slow your guillotine, Robespierre. Let me explain.

As glamorous and exciting as the galas are (and as much as I love feeling like James Bond when I put on my tuxedo), that’s not what I’m going to miss. Walking into the grand tents with people who paid thousands of dollars for their tickets (and sometimes tens of thousands for a table) reassures me every year that the arts I love will be there for everyone to enjoy in the coming seasons. Galas raise millions of dollars to help pay for everything from operating costs to new productions and education programs for each of these organizations. The blacktie events are also one of the ways to keep the arts available to the masses.

What I’ll miss this year is the shared sense of occasion. The night isn’t just for the people at the patron dinners. It’s also an event where people with a deep love of the arts can feel like part of a tradition that goes back decades in San Francisco’s history.

The performanceonly attendees at the opening nights are among my favorite audience members to talk to each year. Some have shared memories with me of attending the San Francisco Symphony and Opera since they were children, as I did. Others have told me that part of why they moved here was because they wanted to live in a city where these cultural institutions were accessible. Many speak with an authority about these art forms that comes from years of being seasonticket holders. They are also not shy about letting reporters know what they loved about the evening and what they thought didn’t work on the program. But they say it with the dedication of connoisseurs.

I mourn the galas this year not just for the lost fundraising, but also for the next generation of young arts lovers I still see at these nights taking the whole experience in for the first time.

The first time I attended the opening night of the San Francisco Opera was 20 years ago when I was a 16yearold student at the Ruth Asawa School of the Arts. A friend’s grandparents surprised us with tickets, and we arrived at the Opera House in full white tie and ball gown feeling almost Whartonian and rather grown up. Even though we didn’t attend the ball, we were our own party sitting all the way at the top of the balcony. We wore the same outfits to junior prom later that year, but that night was a letdown compared with the opera. Prom had a DJ; the opera had Renée Fleming — it was no competition.

I hope the people who usually buy the expensive gala tickets choose to support the Symphony and Opera again this year, even without the parties. And I hope that next year there’s at least one 16yearold who gets to attend an opening night for the first time and falls in love with the art forms and the occasion.

See you in 2021, kid. I’ll be the one in the tuxedo.

The blacktie events are one of the ways to keep the arts available to the masses.