Klarinet Archive - Posting 000148.txt from 2006/10

From: "Lelia Loban" <lelialoban@-----.net>
Subj: [kl] Library of Congress ticekts for the Dec. 7 concert
Date: Fri, 13 Oct 2006 13:04:58 -0400


Re. the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment's concert, Dan Leeson wrote,
>There are no tickets needed for the pre-concert
>lecture at 6:15 p.m. but yes, tickets ARE needed
>for the concert at 8p.m.

Thanks for the clarification!

>Or you can also take your chances with no tickets
>closer to curtain time and get in that way--if there's
>room.

Risky. These concerts are generally well-attended, even on weeknights. It
looks to be one of the best Coolidge Aud concerts of the season-- and
there's a special circumstance that week. See below.

>There are NO acoustically bad seats in the Coolidge.
>There are some physically uncomfortable ones in the
>last rows (S & T I think.)

I agree with you about the acoustics, Dan. Good hall for chamber
orchestras and small ensembles. Good audience, too. The physical
discomfort issue with the back rows is why I recommended avoiding rows S-U
and the two seats nearest each aisle (seats 1-3, 2-4, 11-13, 12-14, 101-102
and 112-113) in rows P-R. S is the last full row at the back. T and U are
short rows on the two side aisles only. Since I got several private
inquiries about that area, nicknamed the duckpen by a few of the Library's
regulars, maybe I should go ahead and bore the whole-- oops, I mean explain
to the whole list.

First, for the sake of readers outside the U.S.A.: It's possible that the
legislature of the U. S. federal government, the Senate and the House of
Representatives, will be winding up their lame duck sessions around the
time of this concert. A lame duck is a public officeholder whose term of
office is ending, but who still holds office during the period between the
elections (November 7 this year) and the end of the session. The exact
date of adjournment varies from year to year. Last year, the Senate didn't
adjourn until December 22, but in 2004, the House and the Senate both
adjourned on December 8. This session between the election and year's end
is the last chance for the lame ducks to accomplish anything before the
newly-elected legislators take office after the winter holiday adjournment.
The elections on November 7 may turn a lot of incumbents out of office. If
the more ideologically ferocious among the nearly-departed go wild with pet
legislation or dramatic posturing at the last minute, especially likely if
control of the House will change parties in January (as may happen this
year), then lame duck sessions can run late into the evenings. A
legislative session might even turn into a Daffy Duck that could coincide
with that December 7 concert, a particularly tempting date for political
theater, because it's Pearl Harbor Day.

Now, about the duckpen: The Coolidge Auditorium is on the ground floor of
the Library's Jefferson Building, directly across First Street from the U.
S. Capitol building, where the House and the Senate meet. That's a quick
public parade across First Street or a furtive scuttle through the private,
underground tunnel connecting the Library to the Capitol. A Daffy Duck
happens when a faction of the House or Senate tries to force the majority
into further negotiations by attaching the controversial issue as a rider
to an important bill, then preventing a vote on it and prolonging the agony
until nobody can stand it any more and people start compromising. One
dramatic way to stall is by walking out with enough members to deprive the
session of a voting quorum, until the other side makes concessions. (In
the rare Donald Duck, things get so embarrassingly out of control that
people start yelling and hitting.) Pulling this stunt late in the day
encourages negotiation, because everybody wants to get the session over
with, eat dinner, go to concerts, get drunk, seduce pages, go home and
sleep, etc..

The duckouts disappear down a lot of different holes. Most of them go to
private rooms reserved in private clubs a block or two away, or to their
own or colleagues' nearby apartments. (If the duckouts merely retreated to
a nearby bar or restaurant, colleagues could barge in and quack at them to
go back to the floor.) However, since the Coolidge Aud requires tickets
and concert manners oblige silence, the auditorium makes a convenient,
dignified hideout for a few Daffys ducking out of a quorum call who don't
have private bolt-holes nearby. (Also, legislators know that at least one
pool reporter will lurk in the duckpen. A note in The Washington Post the
next morning that "senators Haunch, Paunch and Schnorer attended a Mozart
concert" wreaks no havoc--as opposed to, say, "Senators Hump, Lump and
Gonef sneaked off to the Kitten With A Whip Club.") Those aisle seats I
mentioned, back near the lobby doors, are the most convenient for slipping
in and out without disrupting the concert for the rest of the
audience--except for the unfortunates in the immediate vicinity.

The duckpen is one reason why there's a limit of two tickets per customer
by phone or on the web--to prevent legislators from hoarding up rear aisle
seats in advance that may then go vacant-- but they do it anyway, by asking
pages (when they're not busy being chased around the desk) and other lowly
minions to order their two tickets apiece. The Coolidge tells
concert-goers to turn off cell phones and crackberries, of course. The
ushers do ask conspicuous violators to leave. Also, people can't enter the
auditorium during the music. However, it's easy to see when party leaders
want to confer or to march their ducks back to the session, because
suddenly several people leap up and dash for the lobby doors while grabbing
at their vibrating pockets.

Dan Leeson mentioned that concert-goers
>can also come down with NO tickets when they
>come to the lecture. At that time, they will either
>be given a left-over concert ticket or a voucher
>for a turned-in ticket, which is redeemed at 7:30 p.m.
>when the concert hall opens.

Now you know where those tickets come from. Sometimes when the ducks act
more collegial or adjourn early enough not to want the tickets, they turn
them back in and the general public gets them--but if the duckpen's mostly
empty except for a few confused-looking teenagers who nervously applaud
between movements, that means some wag told the pages they should go ahead
and use the tickets, because the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment is
the latest really hot rock group.

I emphasize that duckout behavior is uncommon; that the legislature may be
weeks away from recess or may have already recessed anyway by the date of
this concert; and that even if circumstances do coincide for duckouts to
duck in, most of them will be music-lovers (if they weren't, they could go
to several other safe places) and they'll avoid disturbing the performance.
For policy wonks in the audience sitting nearby, the duckout phenomenon is
even fairly entertaining, up to a point. Even so, to make sure I can give
all of my attention to the music, I avoid sitting back there in the
duckpen--and that means reserving my tickets early.

Lelia Loban

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