And ‘Jeepers creepers!’ the crowd roared
If every composer’s dream is to hear an orchestra playing the music that started as wisps of melody sung to himself, and to see a concert hall filled with music lovers rising to their feet in acclaim, then that dream came true for Gordon Getty on Monday night.
It’s true, Getty is a major patron of the San Francisco Symphony, and this Happy 80th Birthday celebration/performance of his music — with guest performances from beloved longtime friend Frederica von Stade and renowned Los Angeles Opera Musical Director Plácido Domingo (Getty is a benefactor of that company, too) — was at the same time a celebration of his creative efforts, a thank-you for his financial support and a fundraiser for the Symphony’s education and community programs. That’s a very tidy win-winwin package, but it doesn’t at all describe the atmosphere in Davies Hall for the occasion, which felt like an affectionate tribute to the passions and talents of a favorite uncle.
Getty seemed to soak up every moment of the evening, with the spotlight literally shining on him in his seat in the orchestra as he raised his hands to give what I was told is his signature doublearmed salute, an expression of gratitude to the musicians and San Francisco Symphony Chorus members performing his works. “He has enormous enthusiasm for what he does,” said Michael Tilson Thomas, “but also enormous enthusiasm for what other people do. … He’s totally serious, omniscient, playful and fun loving. … It’s so remarkable to know someone who is 80 years old and still a work in progress.”
Composer John Adams, who was there with his wife, photographer Deborah O’Grady, paid particular tribute to a particular trait. “I am impressed,” he told me after dinner, as we walked to the performance, “that Gordon is not politically correct in his tastes. He does not like Mozart, but he likes Verdi and Strauss. But he likes what he likes, and he tells it like it is.”
The composer often expresses “how it is” in trademark terms, said Thomas: “Magnifique! (pronounced in English, with “que” as “cue”), “Jeepers creepers!” and “Holy flying mackerel!” Those phrases describe the reaction of most audience members to the concert. As Domingo (“a dear, dear man … who can do just about anything in the entire world,” said von Stade) sang the last note of an aria from “La Traviata,” the crowd rose in unison, with loud cheers.
Vanessa Getty and Billy Getty, daughter-in-law and son of the composer, were formal hosts of the evening, which made use of the skills of the city’s A-list pros: Designer Stanlee Gatti had hung miles of red ribbon streamers from the 65-foot-tall ceiling of Davies’ Zellerbach rehearsal space (which will be converted this year to an alternative performance space); an Al Hirschfeld cartoon of the honoree was printed on canvas covers for the chairs. McCall’s cooked the dinner (I peered into a tentlike enclosure where a line of chefs was laboring, elbow-to-elbow, in a spotlit pop-up kitchen). The honoree was dressed for the occasion in blue shirt, tie and sport coat that looked as though it had seen a few previous wearings. It was an outfit that many guys retiring from careers in the post office would have rejected as too casual for the going-away party. But that’s in keeping with the point of the evening, in which Getty was recognized as not only financial pillar of the cultural community but also a working member of that community. Artists don’t care about cocktail attire. What they care about is the work. A woman sitting in the orchestra a few seats away from Getty told me afterward that when the crowd rose to its feet in acclaim, the composer had tears in his eyes.
The opening reception for “Beth Van Hoesen: Portraits From the Castro” is at the George Krevsky Gallery on Thursday. The show features the late artist’s vivid pictures of her Castro district neighbors, many Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence. Sales will benefit the Rainbow Honor Walk. Although the reception is today, the show opened Friday, and Sister Penny Costal, Sister Zsa Zsa Glamour and Cookie ( Sister Saki Tumi), having mistaken the date, came that day. In a brilliant sartorial turnabout, they, who usually show up in feathers and sequins when everyone else is in business suits, were wearing street clothes.