The Kennedy Center ‘Kennedy head:’ What it must be thinking!

Henry Lee Higginson would be aghast at an opera company leaving its opera house. But it’s true. For murky reasons the reporting has not clarified, the Washington National Opera said it would leave the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts after operating there since 1971.

Higginson was a Civil War brevet colonel who, after investment success, founded the Boston Symphony Orchestra in 1881. You could get into a performance for 25¢. By 1900 the orchestra had its own home, the Boston Symphony Hall. Higginson died in 1919, but the orchestra occupies that historic building to this day. When in the late ’60s and early ’70s, my friends bought Doors albums and experimented with marijuana, I attended the Wednesday night BSO open rehearsals to hear (and watch) Erich Leinsdorf and Seiji Ozawa ply their arts. I was thrilled when the conductor would stop and order a passage replayed, maybe with a little exasperated scold.

In latter years, my wife and I have had season tickets to the Washington opera. Few locals thought the Trump administration’s appetite for change would affect, of all things, the opera. But it has, like lightning zigzagging through a thicket of branches to nail a squirrel.

Unlike the BSO, most opera and orchestral organizations don’t own their facilities, but instead have long-term, sometimes complex, arrangements with the governing bodies of places like Lincoln Center or Dallas’s Morton H. Meyerson Symphony Center. Mostly, they’re public-private partnerships in one form or another.

For artistic organizations operating out of the Kennedy Center, there’s the added twist — not of municipal government, but of federal.

And Washington, D.C.’s federal landscape has been changing fast lately, mainly psychically but also physically. The most visible manifestation of the latter: The White House getting a convention-sized ballroom, and maybe a story added atop the West Wing.

Psychic changes we’re more accustomed to. The metronome of policy swings back and forth on everything from car mileage to vaccinations.

The roiling of the Kennedy Center embodies both. Physically, the building now has the name “Donald J. Trump” added to its external signage. The letters are big; you can see them driving west on Route 66 en route to Virginia. I keep expecting a bust of Trump to pop up next to that busy selfie spot, the “Kennedy head” — a sculpture so big and ugly it’s become sort of lovable over the decades. Psychically, the center has undergone a wrenching change in its governing board members and its apparent approach to programming.

The announced departure of the Washington National Opera has drawn enormous press coverage. The departure is all wrapped up in the ongoing turmoil of Kennedy Center leadership, programming-slash-culture wars, and — frankly — artists and ticket-buyers perhaps cutting their own noses to spite their faces in reaction to what they see as Trump depredations. If you cancel a performance or stop buying tickets, who are you really hurting?

You can’t put on top-tier opera just anywhere. It requires a pit for the orchestra, a large stage with roomy rear and side areas for props and scenery. I’ve seen the behind-the-stage rooms at the Kennedy Center. They’re like caverns.

More than that, opera needs a dignified, uplifting place. The Kennedy Center fits the bill, or it did. Its concert hall interiors and gigantic hallways elevate the experience, just like the ornate Boston Symphony Hall with its statues along the sides and “Beethoven” inscribed over the stage add to the orchestral presentations. Despite its lackluster cafeteria and fluctuating water pressure, the Kennedy Center adds a certain distinction and elegance to a city that, 50 years ago, felt slightly backwater.

Big corporate benefactors have kept the Washington National Opera afloat. I often muse that gifts from Northrop Grumman and American Airlines plus individuals like investor David Rubenstein and candy heiress Jacqueline Mars mean I can buy a seat at the opera for $50 or $75. I often buy a Snickers at intermission.

I plan to keep supporting the opera regardless of where it ends up, and I’ll buy a Snickers bar at intermission. The departure from the marble temple on the Potomac is a loss for the city and an unfortunate reflection on the Kennedy Center’s leadership.

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