The Orlando Sentinel from Orlando, Florida • Page 27

The Orlando Sentinel Opera guild puts support before party planning Glitter, D-2 Monday, March 12, 1984 Crealde puts itself on a financial diet By Laura Stewart Davin Light idea than it has been at any time in its turbulent past. The unstable situation that sparked these changes developed over many years, Piatt says. The Utopian brainchild of Jenkins, a retired local developer, Crealde opened its doors in 1975 as a private enterprise. Jenkins envisioned his project as a multifaceted artists' haven that would serve member artists in a variety of ways and reach out to the wider community. The community it served would gradually take on Crealde's financial burden, according to Jenkins' plan.

In 1980 Crealde became a non-profit arts institution. That made it eligible for funds from governments, local foundations and businesses, relieving Jenkins of its full fi-Please see CREALDE, D-6 Crealde and other art centers. Rather than look to its longtime benefactors for yet another handout to tide it over during a financial crisis, Crealde chose to restructure its organization from top to bottom. At its Feb. 16 meeting, the board of directors admitted that the center stood on the brink of closing its doors.

The last of a series of grant requests had just been turned down. The art center, which operated on a budget of $160,000 last year, was having trouble paying employees and meeting daily expenses. It had balanced its budget only because board members reached into their own pockets and gave money whenever necessary. So Crealde took steps to stay open. It trimmed its budget by letting one of two full-time workers go.

It plans to pay out only as much as it takes in from such sources as student tuition and gallery sales. More important in the long run, Crealde is becoming something new a cooperative venture set up and run by its own artists with the help of volunteers. The center is still operating on funds coming in from last year's grants and on good will, says interim board president William Piatt. But within a year Crealde will be self-supporting if the new system succeeds, and such success will impress potential donors and breed more success, he says. Crealde expects to receive new funds during its next fiscal year, which begins next summer, Piatt says.

Oddly enough, says Crealde founder William Jenkins, 74, these recent changes are bringing the center closer to his original SENTINEL ART CRITIC WINTER PARK Their size and goals were not the same, but until last month, Crealde Arts had a lot in common with other art centers in Central Florida. 1 Its 17 instructors taught subjects from pottery to photography to more than 200 students each session. Exhibits came and went in its art gallery. Programs such as ArtReach, Crealde's art-therapy arm, brought art to the wider community. Crealde earned some of its income, but most came from outside contributions.

Finances were a headache. Now there's a big difference between What's next By John von Rhein CHICAGO TRIBUNE CHICAGO Nobody calls Herbert von Karajan "Herby" or Georg Solti "Georgy," but somehow "Lenny" seems to fit Leonard Bernstein. The name sounds comfortable; you can't dislike the man behind it. It takes you back to those golden evenings in the 1950s and '60s when Bernstein, TV's omniscient man of music, would come into your living room to talk about jazz and Beethoven and Mahler and make you believe you were hearing them for the first time. He is a uniquely American institution who happens to be one of the world's most beloved musicians.

Just running his credits past your mental scanner is exhausting: charismatic conductor, versatile composer, gifted pianist, chatty popularizer of televised music, compulsive teacher, best-selling author, much-publicized civil libertarian, successful multimedia entrepreneur, rich and famous superhero of the nation's serious (and popular) culture. Anyone else could build a notable career on a fraction of his talent. Bernstein is plainly none too happy about giving interviews. Most of the reviewers who attended the June premiere of his latest opera, A Quiet Place, disliked it, and Bernstein, who once said he was too old to be bothered any longer by critical hailstones, sounded bothered. "Critics!" Bernstein spits out the word as if hemlock had just crossed his lips.

"They your ideas out of context. My librettist, Stephen Wadsworth, and I gave a press conference in Houston before the opening. After the newspaper people got through writing up our remarks, they made us sound so arrogant. "Unfortunately, the three most widely circulated reviews, from The New York Times, Time and Newsweek, were all negative. Andrew Porter said some very good, constructive things about the opera in The New Yorker, but he took the trouble to study the score and see it more than once." If there is a new urgency in Bernstein's craggy voice, that is understandable.

Time is pressing on him. He turned 65 last August, an age when most people are expected to begin taking life easier but when many musicians enter periods of creative renewal. Will Bernstein still be composing in his 80s, as Ralph Vaughan Williams did, still conducting well into his 90s, like Leopold Stokowski? Right now Bernstein seems more concerned about his composing future than his place in the history of the podium, which he realizes is secure. "I sit for long nights all by myself and don't have a thought in my head," he told an interviewer on his 60th birthday. "I'm dry.

I'm blocked, or so mil minimi muuJ mm luii inmin immmuuni iiiuwurt I The situation is a comedy for Channel 6 By Noel Holston SENTINEL TELEVISION CRITIC NBC has not acquired last Mon- -day's 6 p.m. WCPX-Channel 6 newscast for showing, in its entirety, on TV's Bloopera Practi- cal Jokes. Nor is there going to be a made-for-TV movie Smash-Up at Tuxedo Junction based on the Orlando station's formally attired and flub-filled first few days of original- ing newscasts from its new $9 million broadcast center. Still, no one who witnessed WCPX demonstrating Murphy's law if something can go wrong, it will last week is going to forget soon, and that includes news director Tom Hauff. The early-evening edition of Newswatch last Monday began with a prematurely cued live cutaway to WCPX's Brevard County bureau and went downhill from there.

Cameras bobbed and weaved like punchy box- ers. The lighting at times recalled a prison yard during a breakout attempt. Information-filled special ef- fects boxes floated over the edges of the anchors' faces. Videotapes did un-; intended stop-action freezes. Weath- erman Tom Hale's electronic "weather window" went dead in mid-forecast.

"The first three days were real rough," Hauff said Friday. "It's been very difficult, bringing all the pieces together more difficult than any of us anticipated. We knew there would be problems, but it was a combination of people not being familiar with the new equipment, and equipment that was still being installed, equipment that hasn't arrived yet, new surroundings, and just the new building forcing us to do things differently than we ever had before." The Newswatch operation couldn't be moved completely from WCPX's old studios at 750 N. Texas Ave. to the station's new headquarters on the John Young Parkway until after the 11 p.m.

newscast on Sunday, March Please see WCPX, D-6 on the move RADIO In some pop songs, medium is message Despite news formats, talk formats and news-and-talk formats, radio and music are inseparable. It's natural, then, for musicians to think from time to time about the medium that gets their message across and to put their thoughts into songs about radio. In The Book of Rock Lists by Dave Marsh and Kevin Stein (Dell Rolling Stone Press Book, the authors list 15 rock 'n' rolls songs about the radio, among them such popular recordings as Donna Summer's "On the Radio," Harry Chapin's "W0LD" and Joni Mitchell's "You Turn Me On (I'm a Radio)." These are only a few of the many songs that feature radio as a topic, and there are as many more that mention it to support a mood, an attitude or lifestyle. Bruce Springsteen, for example, sings of spending time in cars, racing up and down Thunder Road and Tenth Avenue with the radio blasting. Some compositions take a peculiar aspect of this popular medium and use it to illustrate a variety of emotions and relationships.

"Border Radio," written by Dave Alvin of The Blasters, uses that geographically unique radio phenomenon, which gave the world Wolfman Jack, as a metaphor for distance. Jack, whose real name is Bob Smith, went to the Tijuana, Mexico, station XE-TRA-AM in the late '60s because U.S. stations told him that his voice just wasn't good enough. Because of the flat terrain, the weather conditions and their 50,000 watts of power, Mexican stations near the U.S. border broadcast throughout much of California.

XETRA's reach eventually made Bob Smith a star. As "Border Radio" says: "She calls toll free And requests an old song Something they used to know She prays to herself that wherever he is He's listenin' to the border radio This song comes from 1962 Dedicated to a man who's gone 50,000 watts out of Mexico This is the border radio' Another phenomenon prevalent in radio is the seemingly overnight, and usually unexplained, disappearance of disc jockeys and radio personalities. In "Around the Dial," Ray Da-vies of The Kinks captures perfectly a fan's confusion and speculation when his favorite DJ suddenly is nowhere to be found on the airwaves. "I've been around the dial so many times But you're not there Somebody tells me that you've been taken off the air Well, you were my favorite DJ Since I can't remember when You always played the best records You never followed any trend FM, AM where are you? You gotta be out there somewhere On the dial "Where did you go Mr. DJ? Why did they take you off the air Was it something that you said to the corporation guys upstairs? It wasn't depression You never sounded down It couldn't be the ratings You had the best in town Somehow I'm going to find you, track you down Going to keep on searching around And around and around" Most of these songs are youth-oriented; the identity with radio is strong among young people.

And although radio will no doubt continue to be a theme in rock music, it's only a matter of time before the new musical companion, MTV, gives it a run for its money. for Leonard Leonard Bernstein the composer it seems. I sit at the piano and just improvise. And then, suddenly, I find one that hits, that suggests something else." It doesn't always work that happily, however, as Bernstein's slim output of recent work attests. From his initial podium triumph the historic New York Philharmonic radio broadcast concert in 1943 at which he substituted for the ailing Bruno Walter through his classic Broadway and theater scores of the '40s and '50s (Fancy Free, Candide, West Side Story), Bernstein was like a great whirlwind.

His spontaneous musical gift, combined 1. 1 By Jeff Kunerth OF THE SENTINEL STAFF and the center's population of children has swollen to 68. Within the next half hour, 16 more children arrive. On an average day the center's attendance is 116 kids, including 24 infants and toddlers. The morning rush hour of children reveals more than a city at work.

It is also a barometer that measures changes in society. Evidence of working women, divorce and the single-parent family, and economics and the two-income marriage are all found inside a day-care center. ij.juhiimu nil. ii 'mm mi i piu.i. i i Bernstein? still looking for his place in history.

with the facile charm of the born showman, produced success after success. He was the first conductor of international stature born and trained in America, the first American maestro to be invested with a major American orchestra, the first American conductor to take an American orchestra to Russia. He could do everything, and do everything well. But the years that followed his retirement from the Philharmonic in 1969 after a decade as that orchestra's music director did not produce the fulfillment of the gold- Please see BERNSTEIN, D-6 From 1971 to 1983, the percentage of working mothers nationwide who had children under age 6 increased to 60 percent from 28 percent. Of the country's more than 5 million employed women, 30 percent are the heads of their households.

When Sara Lee Wilson, 43, took over as director of the Child Development Centre 15 years ago, the majority of the children came from single-income, two-parent families. Today, about 75 of the 163 children enrolled at the day-care center are from single-parent households. Another 75 belong to two-income families. Aside from reflecting the present, daycare centers may also provide a glimpse into the future. Wilson contends that the communication and socialization skills the preschool children learn will help make them more successful adults and parents.

"If they can communicate as children, they should communicate better as Day-care center is a reflection of society At dawn the sky is a gray blanket pulled over a city that's just beginning to awaken. From inside the College Park United Methodist Child Development Centre you can feel the city's pulse quicken with the arrival of children. The first child is dropped off at 7:03 a.m. Carman, 2, sits silently at the lunchroom table, toying with a handful of jellybeans. Five minutes later, Tony, 3, arrives with a scowl on his face and a doughnut in his hand.

When his mother steps inside, Tony slips outside and slams the door shut. Mom hauls him inside. "You're being a real turkey today," she says. The children trickle in, one every few minutes, for the next hour. By 8 a.m.

26 children are watching morning cartoons. Five minutes later they are herded to the playground outside, where atmospheric winds have pulled away the heavy cover of clouds to reveal a bedsheet-blue sky. Nineteen more children are added by 8:30 a.m. At 9 a.m. Orlando is wide awake adults.

The divorces we have now all relate back to a lack of communication," she says. "I think there's hope for the families of the future." At 3:50 p.m. Carman goes home. By 4 p.m. the cars begin pulling into the United Methodist Church parking lot.

Seventeen children depart by 5 p.m. The arrival of parents and departure of kids accelerates, producing a parking-lot traffic jam at 5:08 p.m. Thirteen kids leave within the next 12 minutes. Tony departs with his parents at 5:27 p.m., 10 hours and 15 minutes after he arrived. At 5:50 p.m.

the last of the day-care kids goes home. The lone remaining child is a first-grader, who comes to the center after school. One minute before 6 p.m., closing time, the boy's father retrieves him. As the city sits down to supper, its families reunited, the last of the lights goes out inside the College Park United Methodist Child Development Centre. 21 adio listings, D-5.