After buying a home in Salt Lake City, having moved here to start work as a physician at a clinic downtown, one of my first big purchases was a season ticket for the Utah Symphony.
I made a donation — in truth, so that I could get a seat on the left side, first tier, from which I had the optimal view of the keyboard for programs that featured a piano concerto. At the time, still paying back medical school debt, it was a significant investment. But one I have never regretted and the start of further support with invaluable returns.
Connection and music helped me survive the COVID pandemic, which was devastating for so many people. Living alone and with a practice full of incredibly dear and vulnerable patients was unspeakably hard at times. I lost patients and felt powerless. My responsibility to these patients, to help them, heal them and protect them seemed limited without knowledge of a new deadly virus, or means to treat or prevent it. Life was dark.
With the development of vaccines, and with the greatest caution, Abravanel Hall and the Utah Symphony returned to in-person concerts. Marvelous architectural and engineering work improved the airflow, while distancing the symphony from the audience. Masks were mandatory, as well as proof of vaccination. Individuals or “family groups” were seated far more than six feet apart. Performances were shortened, and concessions were canceled. There were no wind instruments, woodwinds or brass. Musicians and conductor Thierry Fischer were masked.
When I sat in “my” seat for that first performance in the pandemic, and Fischer walked out briskly, stepped up and raised his baton, I was in tears. I suspect others were as well, but they were so far away from me that my myopia prevents me from certainty. I cried more through the music, quietly and into my mask, but it was one of few moments when I felt that connection, hope, healing that come from community, art, music, dedication to excellence and the support of history — decades of determination. Hope comes through the past, and this building is steeped in history.
I recently attended a performance of “Peter and the Wolf” with my goddaughter/niece. There was an instrument petting zoo, wolf “hunt,” animal tattoo station, among other pre-concert lobby festivities. We enjoyed the performance, done along with a reading of the story and displayed artwork/illustrations. She especially loves the “Clara-net.” She also loved “The Nightmare Before Christmas” with a score performed live by the Utah Symphony.
I am aware that significantly discounted — or even free — tickets are sometimes handed out, in cases of undersold performances, making the incredible classical music and beautiful hall something that benefits the entire community. In contrast, I fear that the planned development to support a national hockey league will cost all of us, as taxpayers, but be a venue enjoyed only by a select demographic.
Abravanel Hall is invaluable, the most valuable structure that could sit across from Temple Square in Salt Lake City.
A wise woman I know advocates “spitting in the wind.” She is a fearless and forceful advocate for the arts, civil rights, justice, community and preservation. Though I am aware of significant monetary and other interests competing for further development downtown, and that there is a necessary cost for upgrading and structural support, I am forming this spittle of my own to try to save Abravanel Hall. I am hopeful that, if it fails to land effectively, it may spur others to expectorate, too, and we will have a great salt stream in protest of the potential destruction of this iconic building, demanding for it to be saved.
(Photo courtesy of Melissa J. Bentley) Melissa J. Bentley
Melissa J. Bentley is an internal and integrative medicine physician in Salt Lake City. She loves art, history and the people of Salt Lake City.
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