FOLLOW THE PURPLE ORBS, I told myself. I could see them in the distance. On the warm November night that I visited Central Park, leaves rested picturesquely on the grass near the 72nd Street entrance. A couple running in Alo leisurewear tumbled past. A dog walker towed an Iditarod of mutts. Somewhere near the orbs, someone gently played the melody of “Can’t Help Falling in Love” on a saxophone. I imagined the bearded spirit of Frederick Law Olmsted, godfather of landscape architecture and designer of the park, beaming down on this idyll from the heavens, eyes closed, swaying to the music. His glorious creation was secure, thanks to the aristocrats and arrivistes streaming into the annual gala of the Central Park Conservancy, the nonprofit group that funds and manages its 843-acre premises. This year’s event boasted a “Fortune’s Fête” theme and appeared in clammy corporate partnership with diamond jewelry and luxury watch brand Harry Winston, Inc. Charitable donations were surely forthcoming.
Central Park is public, the conservancy not so much. The organization denie…
