Sad, but not surprising.

That's my reaction to the fate of the beleaguered Honolulu Symphony Orchestra, faced with a $1 million debt and a lack of funds to continue year-round operations in a $4 million-plus budget.

I was in Charlotte, N.C., last week when I read andheard about its plight: shutting down the current season, perhaps jump-starting in 2010, seeking Chapter 11 bankruptcy protection to reorganize, paring down by cutting staff and orchestra size to become financially viable.

Hello?

This orchestra has been down this road before. An angel usually appears, making a sizable donation, almost to script. Angels are Band-Aids, not a cure or a solution. These are tough economic times, so the bleeding is faster and the results more painful.

"We have a world-class orchestra," singer Jimmy Borges told me the other day. He's sung with them many times and with many others in Mainland cities, and he stands by the locals.

As a fan and a singer, he has weathered the ups and downs of this bouncing cork. "Everyone waits for a savior, somebody who is going to help; that's been part of the equation," said Borges. "But in reality, the musicians are one step closer to the bread line this time."

Orchestra folks will lose medical benefits; jobs, too, if the ranks are thinned, as expected. A first-class ork needs to maintain 60-plus musicians to perform popular pieces; if the ranks are cut, say in half, a 30-member orchestra won't be able to play specific repertoire numbers, demoting the ranking and image of the organization — now, that would be tragic.

This isn't the first time musicians have been down this path; they earlier suffered through no-paycheck months, worried about pink slips, experienced cutbacks just to keep the boat afloat.

They've seen exec directors come and go, lived through the horrors of a strike, witnessed consultants come here to tell us what we know: You gotta ante up to build up a huge endowment whose interest would pump up the funds the orchestra needs so badly.

Because the financial cupboards are bare, contributions are stagnant and attendance disappointing, specifically with the classical series; the pops shows have held their own. So dry- docking is the most sensible way out for this orchestral ship.

DOES IT SPELL FINIS?

I hear veteran supporters are questioning the style and vision of the orchestra management and board, and thus are reluctant to write their usual checks — the theory being, what bang do you get for your buck these days?

Orchestras are part of the spectrum of art forms that define and shape a community, alongside opera, ballet, theater, dance and other performance groups. The grim reality is that this ork is close to sinking.

TV shows get canceled, because of poor ratings; Broadway shows are shuttered because of similar factors, often even with good reviews. For an orchestra to shut down the season is akin to a cancellation. It's dreadfully tough to engineer a comeback.

This organization has been around for nearly 110 years. My first brush with the ork was when I was in grade school; our class attended a performance at McKinley High School auditorium (this was well before the Blaisdell Concert Hall was built) and my early recollection was simply this: The orchestra was cool, the musicians playing all kinds of instruments; I was especially taken by the oboe, for some reason.

As an adult, I've attended numerous concerts over the past four decades, and have come to realize that an orchestra is part philanthropy, part business, and constantly challenged to survive. Like its sister organizations ballet and theater, it requires institutional and grassroots support to keep the tempo going and the music flowing. It needs to channel and build a younger core audience to transit and succeed the longtimers — to evolve into the check-writers of the future. In recent times, financial support has dropped despite efforts to attract big money.

Until the orchestra builds up an endowment that builds interest and dollars, there will be these frightening moments. You don't hear much talk about endowments — because the higher-ups don't normally discuss sensitive issues.

I feel for the musicians, who work perhaps a little more than half the year and fill in open periods by taking on other gigs, from teaching to out-of-town performances.

But sometimes they snicker, with discord, that leaves a bitter aftertaste.

I recall several instances over the past decade or two. When traveling musicals like "The Phantom of the Opera," "Les Miserables" and "The Lion King" "bumped" the ork out of Blaisdell to the Hawaii Theatre, there was a hue and cry — like the ork owned the city facility. When butts fill the seats, everyone wins; the presenters, the players, the landlord (in this case, the city). "The Lion King" was a tenant with the Midas touch: the citizenry bought tickets, the hall was packed, the city made money.

In another example, the orchestra musicians — who are free to moonlight to supplement their meager pay — bickered about performance time with "Phantom," expecting overtime to compensate the long playing time, or two separate contracted groups, one to play during Act I, the other to finish up Act II. Get real.

Further, contracted musicians walked out of a Jim Nabors "Merry Christmas With Friends and Nabors" show at the Hawaii Theatre when there was a power failure near the concert finale. Because of the uncertainty of the delay, to stay meant overtime issues, and the musicians figured it might be a long time for the switch to go back on, so they exited in the name of "safety issues." Strange, since emergency lights were on onstage. Fortunately maestro Matt Catingub stayed, played solo piano, and enabled Nabors to complete the show, amid audience cheers.

Whatever happens to the Honolulu Symphony, some damage already is imminent: refunds for folks who can't make the shows the orchestra has rescheduled; a blemish on potential subscription sales for 2010-11; a cloud over future fundraising; general loss of faith in the organization.

A silenced concert hall is the worst fate for any city and its citizenry.

Reach Wayne Harada at 266-0926. Read his Show Biz column Sundays in Island Life. Read his blog at http://showandtellhawaii.honadvblogs.com.