THE CITY
(See Cover) In a dazzle of diamonds and decolletage, with cinema stars, celebrities and just plain millionaires plentifully on hand, the growing edge of the U.S. population explosion—Los Angeles—welcomed the growing edge of another U.S. explosion—culture. The Pavilion, first and most important building in Los Angeles' new Music Center for the Performing Arts, was open at last, and the crowd that swarmed through Architect Welton Becket's tapered white columns on opening night last week was justifiably moved to civic pride.
The Grand Hall, with its honey-colored onyx walls, its massive chan deliers, and its two graceful balco nies, was a masterful combination of warmth and tasteful luxury. Concertgoers mounted an elegant, cantilevered marble staircase that crossed a pool filled with white azaleas set in the lobby's floor, saw themselves multiplied into infinity in tall wall-size mirrors.
Inside, in contrast to the sharp-edged angularities and cool-toned decor of Manhattan's Philharmonic Hall at Lincoln Center, the Pavilion was all curves and warm shades of gold, coral and beige. The unusual dimensions of the auditorium—wider and shorter than most—gave a sense of intimacy seldom felt in a major concert hall; 90% of the seats were within 105 ft. of the stage, and each had clear sight lines.
And there was delight for the ear as well as the eye; from the first bright sounds of Richard Strauss's Fanfare, it was clear that the Pavilion was a superb musical instrument. The Los Angeles Philharmonic's brilliant young (28) Indian conductor, Zubin Mehta, showed the acoustics off with one of Respighi's chiaroscuro set pieces called Feste Romane, whose chief virtue is that it includes the most delicate pianissimos as well as the most plangent brass. The sweeping gold acoustical canopy carried the sound, clear and unblurred, to the furthest seat. And when Violinist Jascha Heifetz joined the orchestra in Beethoven's Concerto in D Major, every member of the audience could feel himself the epicenter of the soaring sound.
Some purists felt the timbre of the auditorium to be more on the brilliant or hi-fi side, in contrast to the mellow tones of Europe's more ancient structures. But at intermission time, Cellist Gregor Piatigorsky turned to Jack Benny, sitting just beside him, and said, "Aren't the acoustics wonderful?"
Freighted Occasion. For everyone there—California's Governor Edmund G. Brown, Los Angeles' Mayor Samuel W. Yorty, Cardinal Mclntyre, the handsome women and active men sitting in the Founders Circle reserved for donors of $25,000 or more—this was much more than a gala evening. The Music Center is in the heart of Los Angeles, at the center of the cloverleafs that have long been mockingly called the center of the city; thus it is both highly accessible and highly visible, giving Los Angeles a new visual axis, with the building handsomely anchoring the new mall that leads to City Hall. Moreover, the center is recognized as a milestone in the city's cultural aspirations. Immediately after the opening number, Conductor Mehta turned to the audience and with some Indian ambiguity addressed himself to the occasion.
"This is the most unique city in the 20th century," he said. "I do not think it is too late now, in midcentury, to