NEW YORK — In 2019, Lara St. John came forward with an accusation against Philadelphia’s Curtis Institute of Music that shook the music world. The famous solo violinist described how she was sexually assaulted and raped by her teacher, the famous violinist Jascha Brodsky, in the mid-1980s, when she was 14 years old.

He repeatedly reported what happened to the school administration, both then and years later, and was ignored.

Today marks five years since the allegation was made public. Inquirer investigation and getting a belated apology from CurtisSt. John’s life changed dramatically. He says he became aware of who his real friends were and were not, and became only interested in attending certain types of concerts.

Perhaps the most surprising thing is that his relationship with the music to which he devoted half a century of his life (which he started playing at the age of 2) has been broken.

“I don’t listen to classical music anymore. I think, given all the information (about the abuse), it’s a little unpleasant,” he said in a recent interview from his home in Manhattan.

Having made her story public, she says one thing hasn’t changed — not to the extent she’d hoped: how the power imbalance in classical music continues to fuel a culture of sexual abuse. After The Inquirer published its story and in the years since, St. John received hundreds of accounts from women, plus a few from men sharing their experiences.

53-year-old Canadian-born St. Louis, who gave his first concert at the age of 4. “I had absolutely no idea it was so common,” John said. “I mostly hear from people all over the world about sexual abuse and sexual exploitation. In addition to harassment in schools and orchestras, there is also psychological and physical harm to children, students and even staff of classical music institutions.”

And then it occurred to him: “I need to make these people’s stories heard. … So I thought, ‘Look, I’ve got cameras.’ I can take the train, I can take the plane. “I can do this.”

The fruit of that labor is a film that he and producer Patrick Hamm are in the process of finishing and hitting the film festival circuit. Dear LauraThis full-length documentary is only available in St. It explores John’s experience at Curtis, but also the experiences of others in schools and orchestras internationally.

So far the film has only been shown to audiences in rough drafts in focus groups, sometimes raising eyebrows in this obscure corner of the classical music world. “I’ve seen people say, ‘Oh my God, I thought it was such beautiful music.'”

” READ MORE: First harassed, then mocked: The well-known violinist says she was sexually assaulted by her famous teacher at the Curtis Institute, then ignored when she reported it.

A long overdue apology

St. John’s struggle for resolution did not end with the story’s publication in July 2019. About an hour after it was posted online, Curtis told students and others The Curtis family was instructed to “refrain from discussing this matter publicly, on the internet or on social media”; This directive drew direct criticism for encouraging the same culture of silence about sexual assault that led to the abuse in the first place.

Curtis immediately apologized for his action. Four months later, the conservatorship moved the law firm Cozen O’Connor to St. He assigned him to investigate John’s complaint. In addition finds his accusation believableThe law firm’s report said Curtis’ response “reflected a lack of compassion and understanding of the dynamics of sexual abuse of a minor in an institutional setting.”

“In some cases, affirmation and apology, combined with a comprehensive commitment to learn from past lessons, may be the only recourse available to such an individual.

“Even as late as 2019, Curtis did not appreciate that such an approach might be the only meaningful recourse he could offer to St. John,” the 2020 report said.

Following the report, Curtis finally returned to St. He apologized to John both publicly and personally.

“When you were entrusted to us in the 1985-86 academic year, you were 14 years old and living away from home. You and your family had the right to expect that we would protect you from harm. Yet we failed to do so and refused to accept your demands when you came to us for help,” Curtis wrote to their leader, St. John. “None of this should have happened to you, Lara, and we are so sorry it did.”

The letter was signed by board chairwoman Deborah M. Fretz, who still leads Curtis, and president/CEO Roberto Díaz.

Curtis changed some of his policies, such as ending the practice of students taking classes at 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; Reporting hotlines were established and relationships were deepened with the Rape, Abuse and Incest National Network (RAIN) and Women Organized Against Rape (CLOTHES); We have established a Young Graduates Fund to assist people experiencing career barriers; hired a Title IX coordinator to lead the school’s human resources initiatives and foster a “safe and welcoming environment” for the entire Curtis community; “targeted and enhanced” school culture around issues such as student-teacher power dynamics, mental health, equity, and inclusion; provided education and resources to the community to provide a welcoming environment for all; We have created “stronger and more effective” policies to prevent harassment, sexual assault and retaliation.

The school publishes a annual “results report” It contains a certain amount of information regarding sexual misconduct reported in the previous year and actions taken in response.

In a recent statement to The Inquirer, the school said these changes and others “make Curtis an incredibly safe and nurturing place.”

Curtis, St. He tried to get closer to John. He’s not interested and has asked his alma mater to remove him from the alumni association.

“I think the only thing they’re upset about is that it found out and eventually became public,” he said.

St. John says I didn’t know what to expect before going public, “and I guess in a way I was pleasantly surprised that about 95% of the reactions everywhere weren’t negative – like ‘thank you for doing this’.” ”

But what bothered him was that some of Brodsky’s former students continued to list his name in artist biographies, even though the classical music industry generally believed in him.

“This tells me that having this so-called very sacred teacher at this so-called very sacred institution in their stupid biographies is more important than supporting a child rape survivor. And that really makes me angry.”

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

A new stage in life

St. John entered the role of documentary filmmaker with a deep shared understanding, which allowed him to gain the trust of his interviewees; Some of these individuals initially gave interviews insisting on anonymity but later agreed to be identified.

“It’s very hard to do, I know that very well,” he said of including your name in a bet, “but I think it was partly because people saw me doing it and kind of (thought), ‘so he’s not dead.’ In the end, everyone used their own voice, and I think that will make a solid impact.”

One of the biggest risks of going public was the question of career — St. Louis, who recorded and toured widely as a soloist and whose playing was called by the New York Times for its “perfect ferocity.” It was a question of whether it would hurt John’s reservations. . It is difficult to measure impact. Eight months after the first story was published, COVID hit and performances were halted around the world.

Plus, the violinist now feels the pull of additional consideration when deciding which solo performance to accept.

“It’s a little difficult because I can’t go to this orchestra because I know the conductor or the lead trumpet. I know so much about this profession that I can’t say it because of libel laws. “I really don’t know if I want to be in this business that much anymore.”

Now St. John is in a different phase of his life with a new philosophy.

“The new rule is to only do gigs if there’s really exciting, new, interesting repertoire or if it’s somewhere really cool, exciting. For example, I have a bunch of Tchaikovsky concerts (concerto performances) in November — not exciting, but they’re in Mexico City with Sinfonia Rotterdam. So this is great. Sometime next year (Vivaldi/Piazzolla) Eight SeasonsI’ve done this a million times, but in Peru. So this is great.”

John says two factors made it possible for him to come forward: the #MeToo movement and his husband’s support. In 2018, she married her longtime partner, Stephen H. Judson, who owns a real estate investment and management firm in Manhattan as well as other companies.

Her support allowed him to sell his Manhattan apartment, which provided the main financing for the film. The documentary also has some foundations and individual supports.

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

“What I care about when it finally comes out is for people to see it and to expand awareness of this condition… and I don’t care about the money.”

Ideally, he would like to present the film in schools with subsequent discussions, but he is prepared not to be embraced in certain circles.

“I’m not stupid; obviously this movie will not be shown at Curtis or the University of Michigan (where there have been many cases of sexual assault and misconduct in recent years) or any of those places.”

Despite a series of allegations over the past few years, St. John doesn’t feel much progress in the classical world.

“The stories keep coming. So I don’t think much has changed,” he said.

But he still continues on the path shaped by fate and his own determination.

“The only thing to do, at least for me, is to stand on the rooftops and shout ‘a… off’ because there’s no other way, is there?”