My love affair with the San Francisco Symphony began at age 13, when I was a floppy-haired greasy violinist with the Sacramento Youth Symphony. We field tripped to watch them rehearse with Michael Tilson Thomas, who felt like more than just a conductor. He made musicians at the top of their game feel accessible — like they were our peers rather than distant icons.
The symphony of today still carries that same magic and almost-familial experience from childhood, even though the reality has some tense undertones. Thomas exited a bit ago, and their new director is not here for the long haul; there’s also ongoing salary concerns alongside talks on updating Davies. So all that was just under the surface entering the symphony’s 2024 gala on Sept. 25.
As tuxedos and gowns swept through the entrance of Davies Symphony Hall, the vibe inside felt just a bit muted from clothes to conversation, with topics hanging in the air but going unspoken. The hot pink carpet from 2023 was now black-and-white and relocated to the staircase. I pulled an all-nighter finishing my jeweled and pearl gown specifically for this gala — it matched last year’s pink, and was quite obviously the loudest thing in the room.
Galas are as much about mingling as attending the show itself for me, and we caught a few familiar faces at VIP reception downstairs; Real estate broker Robert Beadle introduced himself and I mentioned seeing him at pretty much everything, to which he said: “If there was an opening of a jar, I’d be there.”
This lovely gay couple then talked our ears off about 3D-printed creations, Project Nunway and how to costume plan for every event in San Francisco. They disappeared briefly to find an older man from Oklahoma who was too shy to ask me for a photo; It was then I remembered why I initially became the scruffy man in a ballgown at society galas — queer representation.
For me these events are nothing without fancy peers who likewise enjoy an escape like this, and I’m still excited when famous people show up — even though I’m too nervous to speak to them. I somehow decided to audibly ask “is that Dede Wilsey” and “that’s Zac Posen” enough for them to turn and look. They intimidate me! I recovered by intermission when I spotted diehard society ladies Navid Armstrong and Sharon Seto near the front row and looking fabulous. Navid correctly pointed out it was the one night I hadn’t seen her in a gown with a huge train.
Then of course the concert arrives and it’s Lang Lang, who is a household name I remember watching on YouTube in the 2000s for his Liszt and Beethoven performances. He shared the stage for some time with his wife, pianist Gina Alice Redlinger, who like me enjoys a pink gown and sparkly black shoes.
Lang Lang is exactly what you’d expect live, with animated movement that approaches gymnastics across 88 keys. Watching him is both a pleasure and a privilege, and I have no notes about his technical or emotive abilities; but it was very familiar, too. Arts galas tend to showcase nostalgic music because it’s their opportunity to appeal to the masses for the coming season. But selections like Carnival of the Animals and Romeo and Juliet are a departure from last year’s Rap Notes — which featured Oakland rapper Kev Choice and San Francisco freestyler Anthony Veneziale alongside real-time video projections with AI-generated elements.
Regardless of song choice, the sold-out crowd on Wednesday loved what they heard — giving thunderous applause and standing ovations, which prompted what looked to me like a pre-planned encore. And of course this all made sense to me even with my refrain about the familiar; the music was clearly spectacular.
We scooted off to The Madrigal shortly afterward while the party continued with a dinner at Zellerbach Rehearsal Hall — with speeches by SF Symphony CEO Matthew Spivey, Chair Prisca Geeslin, and a Gershwin-centered performance by pianist John Wilson.
A pretty purple cocktail and moody blue hues gave me a little FOMO about missing the dinner party:
But at this point I was also awake for probably about 36 hours finishing that black-and-pink gown, and approaching delirium. The entire room at The Madrigal turned and applauded my entrance, and I only registered that this was happening enough to twirl. I laughed a little at the surreal nostalgia; teenage me found his way back to this life in the most unplanned fashion, literally.
The night had its own magic from the social connections, the performance, and the moments that followed afterward, and know the SF Symphony will regain its footing soon. I just wish we could have danced.
Saul Sugarman is editor in chief of The Bold Italic.
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More photos from SF Symphony gala 2024
All photos by Drew Altizer Photography.
