The Stranger

It pains me to think that someday someone will renovate the Moore. They'll strip its peeling paint, wash its filthy molding, scrub the scum out of its water fountains, and blast away its elegant, decaying grandeur. But tonight, for its hundredth birthday party, the Moore will indulge in dusty, vaudevillian nostalgia, with dozens of variety performers—a 30-member Sousa band, Russian jugglers, Tamara the Trapeze Lady, a Spanish opera singer, tap dancers, and so on. (The Moore, 1932 Second Ave, 467-5510. 5–8 pm, free.) by Brendan Kiley

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