And for that, to each and every one of you, my deepest thanks.
Many of us grew up in and all now work in a country that has increasingly separated “low” art
from “high” art—a division examined in 1990 by author Lawrence Levine in his
Highbrow/Lowbrow, the Emergence of Cultural Hierarchy in America. While our forefathers
and foremothers enjoyed the intermingling of the high and low, we now find it risible that Jenny
Lind would have interpolated “Home Sweet Home” into Rigoletto, pooh-pooh airlines that co-
opt Gershwin and Delibes, and view John Williams pops concerts and cross-over artists like
Andreas Bocelli with condescension rather than admiration—even while “average Americans”
(whatever that means) committed to the popular have only to see the words “opera” or
“symphony” to be certain they are uninterested, even before the first note is played.
With rare exception, this split divides “enjoyable” and “popular” music from “legitimate” and
“serious” music both aesthetically and structurally, with music that is “good for you” in a
medicinal sense enshrined in the not-for-profit sector, whether through orchestras and opera
companies; school-based choruses and concert bands grounded in classics but less often in rock,
country, or even jazz; or the tax-exempt media outlets of NPR and PBS. And while this
structural polarization had begun in the 1920s, it took flight in the 1950s—an era of national
confidence, a rising middle class, ardent media support, rising leisure time, a belief in a single
homogenous vision of what it meant to be an American, and a demand for serious music fueled
by the appearances of Leonard Bernstein and Van Cliburn and Maria Callas on one of the then
three existing television networks. Capitalizing on this context, the Ford and Rockefeller
Foundations spent hundreds of millions of dollars to support and create and endow arts
organizations and support artists training beyond a few key urban areas with three beliefs: that
every American citizen, no matter where they lived, should have the opportunity to encounter
serious, live music on a regular basis; that if the field were decentralized, employment
opportunities would increase exponentially, and musician artists might find lives, not of
economic opulence, but economic dignity; and that removed from the glare of the commercial
and critical spotlight of New York, these artists could take more risks—a trifecta of good for
audience, good for artists, and good for art form. With the founding of the National Endowment
for the Arts in 1965 (whose founding members, I should add, included not only Bernstein and
Stern but Anthony Bliss, Marian Anderson, Rudolph Serkin, and Duke Ellington), state arts
councils in every state, local arts councils in many municipalities, corporate arts philanthropy,
and most importantly individual donors—donors who subscribed, who attended in ever growing
numbers, who joined the call of service by participating on boards, and who contributed
regularly and deeply to ensure the permanence of the arts in their and their children’s lives—the
arts entered an unprecedented era of support in America. The opera field grew from 27
companies to more than 210 today, from 1300 orchestras—many of them amateur—to more
than 1700. Arts in school programs exploded, the arts became a central Cold War strategy as we
exchanged the Philharmonic with the Bolshoi, and as much as 13% of the contributed charitable
dollar was designated for the arts—all out of a sense that the arts—and music—were an
essential part of our education, our lives, and the public good.
But that chapter has passed, and the world that allowed this movement to flourish is no longer
the world in which we live. Our world today, in stark contrast, is one not of social confidence
but of social anxiety; not a rising but a beleaguered middle class; not burgeoning but winnowed
arts journalism; and a landscape of communities far more diverse than the European
homogenous vision had ever dreamt—a thrilling, continually diversifying array of racial,
generational, sexual, gender, physical ability, religious, political communities, each opening the
possibilities of new collaborations, new expressions, new forms, but each with its own unique