I slipped past the woman checking names unnoticed, which was a good thing, as there’s no telling what a background check might have revealed, and I didn’t want to miss the concert at the “private club”.

A word of explanation. According to its Social Media Policy, as stated on its website, “The Club’s name and location may not be used in post-event coverage in any format . . . whether in print, online, or in social media posts. In post-event coverage, the Club may be referred to only as “a private club.” Nothing about walking down the street shouting out its name.

While I doubt the club would have any recourse against me, a nonmember, for violating this policy, it amuses me to comply and keep the name and location a secret from my readers, who probably couldn’t care less, and, to put a spin on Groucho, probably wouldn’t want to join this club that probably wouldn’t want them as members.

That said, look for a building that is well over 100 years old, and apparently never got the memo about ventilation being important. There was none. The only oxygen in the room was provided by the spectacular 22-year-old violinist, Julian Rhee, on an instrument, the Antonio Stradivari, Cremona, 1699 “Lady Tennant,” much older even than the building, and by pianist Chelsea Wang, whose considerable talent was also on display.

The program included works by Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky, Camille Saint-Saéns, Igor Frolov (the composer, not the road cyclist), and Howie Frazin, in the premiere of his Elegy and Rondo, which nicely held its own in this illustrious company.