THE HAVES, HAVE-NOTS AT CONCERT

The Los Angeles Philharmonic billed the Saturday night program at the Music Center as “A Special Concert to Welcome Andre Previn” as the orchestra’s newly installed music director. And a noble gesture it was: Tickets were free, distributed in pairs to the first 1,500 or so mail-in requests.

But, because of an enormous response from a culture-starved, bargain-hunting public, the event actually turned out to be two concerts.

While the lucky ticket-holders enjoyed the warmth, comfort and acoustical splendors inside the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion, another 200 or so less-fortunate souls sat outside on the chilly Plaza. There, scattered among rows of folding chairs--illuminated by banks of lights atop the Pavilion--the hearty overflow group listened to the music-making through two sets of loudspeakers.

Though the sound was surprisingly decent, and the pops-flavored first half eminently listenable, no one seemed to be having a really bang-up time of it outside.

“This is really amusing,” commented Mark Martinez, a lawyer from Newport Beach. “Unless, of course, you want to take it seriously.

“I just loved the end of the last piece (Tchaikovsky’s “Romeo and Juliet”),” he continued, with a wry smile. “Did you see, right at the big climax, how a whole bunch of moving vans paraded by (on the nearby street)?” The hushed opening bars had been similarly destroyed by the wail of a passing fire truck.

Why did Martinez attend? He points to his companion, Christine North of Costa Mesa. “It was really just a spur of the moment thing with us,” he said. “We saw the announcement in the paper today and we thought, ‘How often can we hear the Philharmonic for free?’ It’s better than going to the movies.”

The lack of any visual connection with the goings-on inside seemed irrelevant to the couple, though both felt that a video hookup--reportedly discussed and dismissed by Philharmonic management--would have been a great idea.

Most of the outdoor crowd seemed unfazed by the oddness of this event. At the rear of the seating area, two well-dressed couples sipped complementary coffee and listened intently, apparently oblivious to the raggedly dressed man in front of them who was tugging maniacally at his beard and guarding closely his possessions bundled in plastic bags beside him.

One woman who declined to give her name shrugged the distractions away. “I found out about the concert long after the tickets were gone, but I still wanted to come. They should do this more often. It’s quite pleasant out here.”

During intermission, the Haves (ticket-holders) and the Have-Nots mingled benignly but as the concert wore on, the outdoor audience drifted away. Perhaps it was the cold temperature. Perhaps it was the hard-to-grasp subtleties of Prokofiev’s craggy Symphony No. 5. Whatever, by the time Previn and his orchestra brought the work to its crashing conclusion, only a dozen auditors remained outside.