Film by violinist Lara St. John addresses the topic of sexual abuse in the world of classical music

NEW YORK — In 2019, Lara St. John made an accusation against the Curtis Institute of Music in Philadelphia that shocked the music world. The renowned solo violinist tells how in the mid-1980s, when she was 14, she was sexually assaulted and raped by her teacher, the famous violinist Jascha Brodsky.

She reported repeatedly what happened to the school’s leadership, both then and years later, but was ignored.

Today, five years after the allegations were made public Inquirer investigation and receiving a belated apology from CurtisLife of Saint Jana undergoes a great transformation. She says she realized who her real friends were and who weren’t, and she started to only be interested in certain performances at concerts.

Perhaps most surprising is the fact that her relationship with music, to which she devoted half a century of her life – she started playing at the age of 2 – has been severed.

“I don’t listen to classical music at all anymore. “I think all the knowledge (about harassment) says it’s just rotten,” she said in a recent interview from her Manhattan home.

One thing, she says, hasn’t changed since her story went public – not to the extent she had hoped: the power imbalance in classical music continues to foster a culture of sexual abuse. After her story was published in The Inquirer and over the years, St. John received hundreds of reports from women and several from men who shared their experiences.

“I definitely didn’t know it was that common,” said Canadian-born St. John (53), who gave her first concert at the age of 4. “I heard from people from all over the world, mainly about sexual abuse and harassment in schools and orchestras, but also about mental and physical harm done to people as children, students and even employees of classical music institutions.”

And then it occurred to her: “I need to hear these people’s stories. … And I thought, “Well, look, I have cameras.” I can go by train, I can fly by plane. I can do it.

The fruit of that work is a film that she and producer Patrick Hamm are currently finishing and making its way to film festivals. Dear Lauraa full-length documentary, discusses not only the experiences of St. John at Curtis, but also others in schools and orchestras around the world.

So far, the film has only been shown to audiences in focus groups in preview form, sometimes surprising this dark corner of the classical music world. “I’ve heard people say, ‘Oh my God, I just thought it was beautiful music.'”

A long overdue apology

Saint’s Fight John for resolution did not end with the publication of the story in July 2019. About an hour after it appeared online, Curtis told students and others in the Curtis family to “refrain from discussing this matter publicly, online or on social media” – a directive that was immediately criticized for promoting the same culture of silence on sexual assault that led to the harassment in the first place.

Curtis quickly apologized for the move. Four months later, the conservatory commissioned the law firm Cozen O’Connor to investigate St. John. Apart from considering her accusation crediblethe law firm’s report found that Curtis’s response “reflected a lack of compassion and a lack of understanding of the dynamics of sexual abuse of minors in institutional care.

“In some cases, acknowledgment and apology, combined with a comprehensive commitment to learning from past lessons, may be the only remedy available to the person.

“Still in 2019” – stated in the 2020 report – “Curtis did not realize that this approach may have been the only meaningful solution St. John.”

After the report, Curtis finally apologized to St. John, both public and personal.

“You were 14 years old and living far from home when you were entrusted to our care in the 1985/86 school year. You and your family had the right to expect us to protect you from harm. However, we failed in this and refused to acknowledge your claims when you came to our aid,” Curtis leaders wrote to St. John. “Nothing like this should have happened to you, Lara, and we are extremely sorry that it did.”

The letter was signed by Board Chair Deborah M. Fretz and President/CEO Roberto Díaz, who continues to lead Curtis.

Curtis changed some of his policies, such as ending the practice of students taking lessons in their teachers’ homes.

She also established a trauma fund to provide free counseling to any member of the Curtis community who has experienced sexual abuse; Set up rape and incest reporting hotlines and deepen relationships with the National Rape, Molestation and Incest Network (RAIN) and Women Organized Against Rape (WORK); created the Young Alumni Fund to help those who may be experiencing career obstacles; hired a Title IX coordinator to lead the school’s human resources initiatives and maintain a “safe and welcoming environment” for the entire Curtis community; “addressed and improved” school culture around issues such as student-teacher power dynamics, mental health, and equity and inclusion; provided training and resources to the community to create a welcoming environment for all; and created “stronger and more effective” policies to prevent harassment, sexual assault and retaliation.

The school publishes, among others: annual “performance report” with a specified amount of information about sexual offenses reported in the previous year and the actions taken in response.

These and other changes “have made Curtis an incredibly safe and caring place,” the school said in a recent statement to The Inquirer.

Curtis attempted a rapprochement with St. John. She is not interested and has asked her alma mater to kick her out of the alumni association.

“I think their only regret is that they were discovered and that it finally became public,” she said.

St. John says he didn’t know what to expect before going public, “and I think in some ways I was pleasantly surprised that about 95% of all the reactions around the world weren’t negative – like, ‘thank you for doing this’.” . “

However, she was concerned that although the classical music industry had largely believed her, some of Brodsky’s former students still mentioned his name in their artist biographies.

“This tells me that it is more important to them to have a supposedly very sanctified teacher at this supposedly very sanctified institution in their stupid biography than to support a child rape survivor. And that really pisses me off.”

Brodsky, who came to Curtis in 1930 as a student and taught there for decades, died in 1997.

A new stage in life

St. John came to the role of documentarian with a deep knowledge of shared understanding, which allowed her to gain the trust of her interlocutors – some of whom initially gave interviews on condition of anonymity, but later agreed to reveal their identities.

“It’s fucking hard, as I know,” she said, referring to the accusation about your name, “but I think it was kind of because people saw me doing it and just (thought),” well, she she didn’t die. In the end, everyone used their own voice and for me that will make it a solid punch.”

One of the biggest risks of going public was a career question – whether it would hurt St. Patrick’s reservations? John, who recorded and performed as a soloist and whose playing was cited by the New York Times for its “brilliant ferocity”. The effect is difficult to measure. Eight months after the first story was published, the coronavirus pandemic hit and performances were halted around the world.

Moreover, the violinist now faces additional considerations when deciding which solo performances to accept.

“It’s a bit difficult because I can’t go to this orchestra because I know about the conductor or the principal trumpet. I know too much about this profession and so much that I cannot say due to defamation laws. I really don’t know if I want to be a part of it that much anymore. “

Now Saint Jan is at a different stage of life, with a new philosophy.

“The new rule is to only do concerts if it’s really exciting, new, interesting repertoire or if it’s in a really cool, exciting place. For example, in November I have a lot of Tchaikovsky performances (concert performances) – it’s not exciting, but they are in Mexico City with Sinfonia Rotterdam. So, this is cool. Sometime next year it will be (Vivaldi/Piazzolla) Eight seasonswhich I’ve done a million times, but in Peru. This is amazing.”

St. John says two factors made it possible: the #MeToo movement and her husband’s support. In 2018, she married her longtime partner, Stephen H. Judson, who owns a real estate investment and management company in Manhattan, as well as other businesses.

His support allowed her to sell her Manhattan apartment, which provided the main financing for the film. The document also has some background and individual support.

St. John knows that independent films like hers don’t usually make money.

“When this finally comes to light, I want people to see it and spread awareness about this situation… and I don’t care about the money.”

Ideally, she would like to present the film in schools and then have a discussion, but she is prepared for the fact that it will not be accepted in some circles.

“I’m not stupid – obviously that won’t be shown at Curtis or at the University of Michigan (where there have been several cases of sexual assault and inappropriate behavior in recent years) or anywhere else.”

Despite the wave of allegations that have surfaced over the past few years, St. John fails to recognize the enormous progress in the classical world.

“The stories keep coming. That’s why I think not much has changed,” she said.

And yet he follows the path marked by fate and his own stubbornness.

“All I can do is just stand on the rooftops and shout, ‘I’m sorry.’ Because there’s just no other way, right?”