ONCE, ONE man's name was big enough to hold up a building in Boston. The name belonged to An Wang, who supported more than mere bricks and mortar. The Wang Center for the Performing Arts symbolized generosity, vision, and commitment to arts, community, and the Wang family legacy.
This week, The Wang Center was rechristened the Citi Performing Arts Center, after
It's another sign of changing times in Boston.
The Enchanted Village is gone.The snow-capped houses and moving figurines that once drew holiday throngs to the Jordan Marsh department store were finally deemed unworthy of salvation. Of course, there's no more Jordan Marsh, either. Macy's bought it, and Filene's, as well.
And soon, you will have to say, "meet me at the Taj" -- not "meet me at the Ritz" -- if you want to savor drinks at Newbury and Arlington streets. A conglomerate from India recently bought the 79-year-old Boston Ritz-Carlton Hotel and announced plans to rename it the Taj Boston.
These changes follow the well-documented trend of industry consolidation and sale of once locally owned businesses to out-of-towners.
Local banks merged and were then gobbled up by Bank of America, based in Charlotte, N.C. The John Hancock name survives mainly as a marketing tool after Manulife of Toronto bought John Hancock Financial Services. The Boston Globe is owned, for now, by the New York Times Co.
The replacement Boston Garden led the way in capitalizing on the corporate appetite for marquee venues. What became the FleetCenter is now TD Banknorth Garden. The Patriots once played at Foxboro Stadium. The Gillette Co. -- now owned by Ohio-based Procter & Gamble -- eventually bought the naming rights to a new stadium.
Bemoaning the transformation from local to global economy and, with it, the loss of familiar names and industry icons is a sentimental indulgence that ignores economic reality. Money talks; it always did and always will. But An Wang's personal investment in a center for performing arts is worth contemplating for another reason: its definition of legacy.
A Chinese immigrant, Wang -- known as "the Doctor" -- founded Wang Laboratories in Massachusetts in 1951. The business took off when it made desktop calculators and minicomputers; by 1985, it employed more than 30,000 employees and had revenues of nearly $3 billion. It ultimately collapsed in the face of
The business was in its heyday when Wang was asked to rescue a crumbling performing arts center in Boston called the Metropolitan Theatre. When he was told that a rehabilitated arts center would be named for anyone contributing $5 million, he offered to do it for $4 million.
As Charles Kenney recounted in "The Rise and Decline of Wang Laboratories: Riding the Runaway Horse": "In December 1983, an elite crowd of 3,000 Bostonians rose to their feet in thunderous applause as An and Lorraine Wang appeared on stage during the dedication of the Wang Center for the Performing Arts." Why did Wang back this project? "He wanted very badly to be remembered," Kenney wrote.
How Wang chose to do it enriched a community. "He was in many ways a pioneer," said Paul Guzzi, who reported directly to Wang as a company vice president. "The legacy was and is that a leader in the private sector believed there were important institutions" that deserved backing.
Guzzi, who now heads the Greater Boston Chamber of Commerce, said that he approached Lorraine Wang to get the family's approval for the name change. Mrs. Wang had two questions, he said: Will it help the arts center? And will there be any mention of Dr. Wang? The answer to both was yes, which explains why there's still a Wang Theatre.
The level of philanthropy that rescued the Metropolitan doesn't happen in Boston as often as it once did, said Guzzi. This city is teeming with wealth, but new Boston's wealthy don't define legacy the way Wang did.
That leaves miscellaneous buildings and causes to corporate America. It's good when corporate America steps in. But it also raises the question: Is anything sacred?
For now, Fenway Park -- but forever?
Joan Vennochi's e-mail address is vennochi@globe.com. ![]()