by Jordan T. McGill
Staff Writer

An old aroma peppered my nose; on a dusty, padded, blue-plush seat in the ninth row, a listener rested his elbows on a pair of darkly stained armrests and gazed upward at the diamantiferous chandelier that hung from the vaulted ceiling. In the tomb-like serenity, I could almost hear the pastel paint peeling from the walls.

esteemed pleasure of watching the Seattle Symphony at the “little historic” Moore Theatre filter an assortment of thunderous drums, sorrowful violin strings, and brass-horned blurts into an epiphany of clarity.

Conducted by Carolyn Kuan, crystal liquid smoothness splashed from the rim of the martini stage into the perked ears of the euphoric audience. Not one person moved. No one even needed to breathe. The playful notes of the first movement, Mozart’s “Le Nozze di Figaro,” urged the aging crowd dressed in plush tuxedos, shiny shoes, white scarves, and pinstripes, to smile with glee.

Joy burst forth from my crypt of human emotion. The middle concoction, Stravinsky’s “Suite from Pulcinella,” was a delicious bath of fragrant romanticism. The finishing wallop in Mendelssohn’s “Symphony No. 4, ‘Italian.’” coalesced the evening’s thoughts into a brief moment of permanence.

The episode itself was one brick of a “grandeur” wall - the Moore celebrates 100 years of business this season, and the Seattle Symphony (who first sat at the Moore in 1908, and played there through the 30’s, 40’s and 50’s) was more than happy to be a part of the planned festivities.

“It is exciting for us to be able to commensurate the Moore’s earliest use while providing our patrons with a unique opportunity to enjoy the Seattle Symphony in one of its original homes,” said Seattle Theatre Group Executive Director Josh LaBelle. “With this engagement, and a host of upcoming historic and community programs, we look forward to celebrating the many historic milestones of the oldest operating theatre in Seattle.”

All in all, it was a nice affair, a peaceful outing in the company of like-minded people. As the relaxed ensemble played on, I couldn’t help but close my eyes and feel the cane-wielding ghosts of long ago hover beside me.

“Watch,” they seemed to whisper. “Watch and listen.”