The board missed a chance to avert this crisis long ago. Had leaders of the 1980s and '90s (many of whom are still calling the shots) put time and energy into raising an adequate endowment along with a new concert hall, the orchestra likely would not be running a deficit today.
Musicians themselves could take ownership - literally. Some orchestras are self-governing. If players have all the answers, as some claim they do, why shouldn't they argue that the staff be cut to near-zero while they take over ticketing, fund-raising, marketing, and tour logistics?
That's unlikely. But this is an unprecedented, put-everything-on-the-table moment. After decades of costs exceeding income, the orchestra has now decided that only profound change will bring a fix. In the coming months, a committee will fashion a new strategic plan covering everything from what the ensemble plays, to where, for whom, and how often.
As the strategic plan and labor talks overlap, musicians undoubtedly will press the board to donate more. The board will repeat its demand that musicians be paid less.
And the public? After more or less constant bad news since 1996, the general listenership seems to be suffering from crisis fatigue. If there is panic and despair at the specter of one of the world's great orchestras shrinking, possibly beyond recognition, I haven't detected it.
As an exercise in lowering expectations, recent revelations have succeeded wildly. The leadership has made it clear with numbers, charts and graphs - and with the threat of ignominy inherent in bankruptcy - that things can't go on the way they have.
