Sad Sounds from Lincoln Center

A labor wrangle threatens the mighty Met's season

Even if Puccini had written the score, it would be hard to imagine sadder sounds emanating from the Metropolitan Opera. First the Met postponed its season premiere, a performance of Turandot, because of contract disputes with its unions. Then last week, the Met's management officially canceled the 1980-81 season. Though the decision was not irrevocable, every day the impasse continued made it more likely that the U.S.'s greatest opera company would find a year erased from its history.

The dispute centers on the 93-member orchestra's demand for a four-performance week. But that would ruin the opera financially, says Anthony Bliss, 67, the Met's executive director, and "would return it to the dark ages--season after season burdened with overwhelming deficits." Though the Met has made money in the past four seasons, its surpluses have been minuscule--just $102,000 last year, for example. By the Met's reckoning, the musicians would drop the workweek from 25 hours to 21, while their average salary would rise from $37,200 to $40,000. This, says Bliss, is "off the wall." The union disputes the Met's figures, and further maintains that the musicians' real work week includes as many as four hours a day of practice on their own.

Independent observers in New York's musical community are appalled by the actions of both sides. Says one longtime student of the company: "The orchestra is way out of line in its demands, and the current regime running the Met has a terribly arrogant attitude that aggravates everything." Given the harsh economics of opera production, the union's demand for a four-performance week in a company with a seven-performance schedule does seem excessive. Even now, with a five-performance contract, scheduling is complex. At the same time, the Met management is faulted for its cold attitude toward its employees and for a lack of diplomacy in negotiations. "They are very patrician upstairs," says one singer wryly.

However the blame is apportioned, the result may well mean a year of silence from the Met. Though the opera could open its doors soon after a settlement, it is unlikely to do so unless an agreement is reached quickly. Lead singers were released from their contracts on Sept. 30, and many of them doubtless will sign with other companies. "You could get a domino situation," says Baritone Sherrill Milnes. "The famous tend to bump the less famous, all down the line." After another dispute with the orchestra that led to a three-month shutdown in 1969, the Met did start up in midseason. But its performances suffered because many leading singers had already signed elsewhere. This time, says the Met, there will be a good season, or none at all.

So far there seems to be little disposition on either side to settle, despite last-minute pleas from President Carter. Indeed the musicians' leaders were so angry that they threatened to sue Bliss if he did not withdraw from negotiations. If the opera kills the season, it will lose $7 million and Bliss, charges the union, will be violating the legal duties he owes the public as an officer of a nonprofit organization. As the week ended, there was much noise, but no harmony whatsoever at the grand and glorious Met. sb

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