The opening of Jazz at Lincoln Center’s new Frederick Rose Hall, which will be celebrated with a parade this morning and three gala concerts tonight, is a major cultural event in the life of New York City. For those of us who love jazz, it’s also very personal.

I recently learned that my uncle, Frank Friedwald, has made a donation to Jazz at Lincoln Center to have a seat dedicated in the memory of Herb Friedwald – his brother, my father, and a lifelong jazz fanatic. This was at first a bit surprising, considering Wynton Marsalis and Jazz at Lincoln Center were two subjects my father loved to carry on about: “They’re doing Count Basie? Why can’t they also do Jimmie Lunceford?” “When are they going to get around to Armand J. Piron and Clarence Williams? Or Cecil Taylor?” That sort of thing.

As with a lot of Jewish fathers, however, complaining was the way he expressed his love. He once admitted to me, “If Wynton Marsalis hadn’t already existed, somebody would have had to invent him – because nobody else could do for jazz what Wynton does.”

For most of its history, Jazz at Lincoln Center – and jazz fans’ idea of Jazz at Lincoln Center – has been inextricably tied up with the career, ideas, and talents of its artistic director, Mr. Marsalis. What you thought of the organization depended on what you thought of Wynton. It can never be a good thing for an organization that seeks to represent an entire art form to be so tied up with a single vision. Jazz at Lincoln Center, as well as Mr. Marsalis, had to face the problem if it wanted to achieve its potential as a forum and champion for all of jazz. It’s a measure of their success so far that they have begun to do so.

Certainly Jazz at Lincoln Center would not exist in anything like its current form were it not for Mr. Marsalis. The late tenor saxophonist Frank Loewe once told me that Mr. Marsalis was the essential bridge that made the new organization possible: “Wynton earned the respect of the academic musical world by playing classical music,” he said. “That’s why Lincoln Center has chosen him to play classic jazz.” Here was a performer who could switch easily from Bach and Handel to Art Blakey and the Jazz Messengers.

My father wasn’t the only one who had doubts, however. In 1986, for instance, Miles Davis wrote in his autobiography, “They got Wynton playing some old dead European music” – a rather unfair comment, considering both Davis and Mr. Marsalis studied at Juilliard. “Why doesn’t he play some of the American black composers?” Davis continued. “Why aren’t they talking about Bird or Trane, or Monk or Duke or Count or Fletcher Henderson or Louis Armstrong?” These were, of course, the canonical figures whose music became a part of Jazz at Lincoln Center’s mandate.

Mr. Marsalis and Lincoln Center first got together in the summer of 1987, for a modest series of concerts titled “Classical Jazz at Lincoln Center.” These early shows sometimes seemed reminiscent of the programs mounted by the American Jazz Orchestra, launched a few seasons earlier. Although different musical directors were occasionally involved, such as David Berger and Don Sickler, Mr. Marsalis was always the central figure. From the beginning, he was closely advised by two men of letters who were also longtime observers of the jazz scene: Albert Murray and Stanley Crouch.

The program became known as “Jazz at Lincoln Center” in 1991, at which time it launched a year-round series of concerts and an educational component. In 1996, Jazz at Lincoln Center became an official Lincoln Center constituent, on a footing with the opera and ballet companies. It did not, however, have a performance facility of its own, and continued to use Lincoln Center’s Alice Tully and Avery Fisher Halls – even though the latter, like Carnegie Hall, is by no means an acoustically suitable space for jazz.

In 1998, Mayor Giuliani announced that Jazz at Lincoln Center’s permanent home would be within the Time Warner Center, to be erected at Columbus Circle, on the site of the old New York Coliseum. The design, principally the work of Rafael Vinoly, was unveiled two years later. Now it is a reality.

The organization, like its artistic director, has been a magnet for strong opinions. All sorts of charges were leveled over the years: that the organization tended to ignore the contributions to jazz history of white innovators; that it made it seem as if postmodern jazz, free jazz, and the avant-garde didn’t exist; that it didn’t hire musicians over a certain age, giving well-paying regular orchestral positions to what one observer referred to as “trainee” players; that too many of the visiting musicians were New Orleans neoboppers like Mr. Marsalis. As recently as 2000, a close friend of mine led a formal protest, complaining that the orchestra had no female members.

Some of the accusations had a degree of truth. Yet the organization seems to have listened and changed. The orchestra’s major veteran is the outstanding Scottish baritone saxophonist Joe Temperley (who turned 75 last month); a young trombonist named Jennifer Krupa (grandniece of the famous drummer Gene Krupa) and other female musicians have served as substitutes; and this February the Lincoln Center Jazz Orchestra is mounting a tribute to the 1920s bandleader Paul Whiteman – probably the most formidable Caucasian force in all of jazz.

To my mind, all these allegations boiled down to one central issue. Was Jazz at Lincoln Center the house institution for the whole of the jazz world, or was it simply Wynton Marsalis’s personal organization? Here again, I believe this question has been answered. Though Mr. Marsalis remains firmly in charge, Jazz at Lincoln Center now seems more inclusive of players beyond those thought to be in his own circle and far more reflexive of tastes beyond Mr. Marsalis’s own. Just look at the schedule for the three new venues to see what I mean.

It’s quite easy, for instance, to see the hand of Todd Barkan, who was producing albums and running jazz clubs (like the Keystone Korner in San Francisco) when Mr. Marsalis and I were both little kids. Mr. Barkan has had input into many Jazz at Lincoln Center concerts over the last few years, including the Singers Over Manhattan series, which presented major jazz vocalists in a comparatively intimate, club-style setting. He is now in charge, among other things, of the nightclub space within the Jazz at Lincoln Center space. “Dizzy’s Club Coca-Cola” will function as a club within the concert hall, and is presenting jazz headliners on a Tuesday-to-Sunday basis – just like the Village Vanguard, the Iridium, or the Blue Note.

The radio deejay and historian Phil Schaap also has been brought on staff. Mr. Schaap is famous for his encyclopedic knowledge of jazz history, and for his eagerness to share – at great length – all manner of information both crucial and trivial. He has already begun steering the historical program down some out-of-the way paths. And the introduction last spring of a second semi permanent ensemble, the Afro-Latin Orchestra, led by Arturo O’Farrill, also helps insure a greater degree of diversity and multiculturalism.

Yet inclusivity has its limits. George Wein, of the Newport and JVC jazz festivals, quickly admitted compatible pop acts into his events, knowing that they would bring a wider audience for jazz. This has never been the policy of Mr. Marsalis or of Jazz at Lincoln Center. You will surely never see a rock band appearing under Jazz at Lincoln Center’s auspices.

Lincoln Center still has a ways to go: Earlier this year, the Lincoln Center Jazz Orchestra played a fascinating program of the music of Ornette Coleman. If the organization wants to represent the whole of jazz, they do need to incorporate some more post-Ornette music. They could start by inviting such contemporary experimental player-composers as William Parker, John Zorn, Don Byron, and Dave Douglas.

But this new home marks the beginning, not the end, of determining what this organization can be. As jazz continues to change, so should Jazz at Lincoln Center.