John Kander and Fred Ebb were two of the most talented and prolific songwriters of the 20th century, giving us such hit shows as Kiss of the Spider Woman; New York, New York; Cabaret; and my personal favorite, Chicago.

Kander, now aged 98, was the musical composer, and Ebb (1928-2004) the lyricist. And it was a segment of Fred Ebb’s lyrics that came to my mind today when I received an email solicitation from Washington’s Kennedy Center.

From the time the Kennedy Center opened in 1971 until I left Washington in 2020, I was one of its millions of devoted patrons. From musical comedy to serious drama to concerts (both classical and pop), I spent many a happy hour in the elegant confines of the nation’s premier cultural center on the Potomac.

The variety of entertainment was limitless — something for every taste and every interest, educational programs for children, and an aura of . . . well . . . of class.

And then, earlier this year, Donald Trump invaded the Kennedy Center. He declared himself the arbiter of taste and suitability; cancelled programs that hinted of diversity and inclusiveness; invited his super-rich friends in for an endless string of expensive parties . . . and all the years of beauty and culture came crashing down.

Previously-scheduled performers with social consciences began backing out, regular patrons cancelled their subscriptions, and those performers who did show up found themselves playing to half-empty theaters.

*. *. *

We all know that once you’re on an email mailing list, you’re there forever unless you unsubscribe. And since I’ve never gotten around to doing that with the Kennedy Center, I received this from them yesterday:

My immediate thought was that this was a joke — some sort of fake, AI-created ad. But when I clicked on the schedule of events and realized it was genuine, I had to acknowledge just how far the mighty have fallen. Advertising a “Black Friday” sale at the once-renowned Kennedy Center as though it were a Walmart superstore . . . whose idea was this? How desperate are they?

And what ever happened to class?

That’s when I recalled Kander and Ebb, and Chicago, and Fred Ebb’s lyrics to a song titled simply, “Class.” It gets a little raunchy toward the middle, so I will share with you just the first two stanzas:

“Whatever happened to fair dealing?
And pure ethics
And nice manners?
Why is it everyone now is a pain in the ass?
Whatever happened to class?

Whatever happened to, ‘Please, may I?’
And ‘Yes, thank you?’
And ‘How charming?’
Now, every son of a bitch is a snake in the grass.
Whatever happened to class?”

I know the answer to that question:

Class, as we once knew it, retreated to the private homes of those who possessed it. And its lingering aura was removed from the grand edifice on the Rock Creek Parkway and delivered to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, where it metamorphosed into something garish, slathered in gold leaf, and totally unrecognizable.

Because today, in the upper reaches of the Washington bureaucracy, “nobody’s got no class.”

And, aside from the members of the very exclusive Washington Billionaires’ Club, we are all the poorer for it.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
11/29/25