This is my 23rd season with the ASOC, and they have been some of the most amazing years of my life. Music has always been my salvation – it’s at the heart of my celebrations, my low points, and everything in between. The times that I have shared with my colleagues in the chorus and orchestra have been the soundtrack of my life for these 23 years, and the survival of the ASO as an institution is of utmost importance to me for all kinds of reasons.
Many others
have eloquently expressed the value of the ASO as an arts organization within
the community so I will keep this to my personal story. I loved the ASO as a fan long before I moved
to Atlanta in 1990. I attended concerts
when I visited Atlanta, bought recordings, watched TV broadcasts, and followed
the adventures of my college friends who sang in the chorus. When I moved to the city, one of the very first
things I did was to audition for the chorus, and my appreciation for the ASO
grew to a new level as I began to experience life on the other side of the
proscenium. The rehearsals, concerts,
recordings, trips and adventures we all shared bonded us together in such a
strong way. I worked for the ASO from
2002 to 2006 as the assistant director of education. During that time, I came to appreciate the
institution in a new way as I got to know the players better and participated
in some of the behind-the-scenes administrative discussions and decisions.
First, let
me reiterate how much I love the players, both as human beings and as
musicians. In the work I did with school
programs, master classes, adult education, youth ensembles and training
programs, I often called upon the players to be judges, coaches, mentors,
teachers, performers, advisers and guidance counselors to the children and
youth of today who will grow to be the audiences and benefactors of the
future. I know that some have questioned
the need for education programs in a world-class symphony like the ASO, and I
also know that the education and outreach programs aren’t always in the comfort
zones of these amazingly gifted players.
But I never had an occasion where I didn’t get the help I needed for
those education programs because every single player on that stage started with
some sort of education and outreach efforts in their childhood, introduced to
the magic and wonder of music by adults who shared what they had discovered and
ignited the fire in their little child hearts.
Not only do many of the players participate in officially sanctioned ASO
education and outreach programs, but they also do side jobs as teachers,
chamber players, solo artists, church musicians and the like to share their
love of music in a variety of ways. All
of this coupled with the way this group can shape music when they are all on
stage together just solidifies my love and appreciation for all of them, both
as individuals and as a group. And on a
most personal level, when I was diagnosed with late-stage cancer just over 5
years ago, and then lost my job while recovering from my surgery, the players
of the ASO and the dear people of the chorus collectively took up enough money
to help me survive a really tough summer until I could recover enough to find
another job. Suffice it to say that I
have a LOT of love for the people of the ASO and the ASOC!I have been saddened by how the administration of the ASO has often been painted as evil, ignorant, greedy and calculating in many posts I have read over the past few weeks. I haven’t been a part of that administration for six years now, but I can speak with some authority about the climate of the ASO during the time I was there. I first joined the staff a year after the tragedy of 9/11, a time when arts funding had taken a sudden back seat to humanitarian efforts in terms of arts funding. The more prosperous days of the late 90s and early 2000s provided a temporary cushion for the funding crisis, but as time progressed and funding levels didn’t return to their pre-9/11 figures, we started to struggle. I don’t know about the senior staff salaries, but I can promise you that no one in mid- and low-level administrative positions were making anything near what could be called “good” salaries. Most people on the staff had bachelor’s degrees at least; many had masters and doctorates with years of experience, and we were earning wages that would be considered low-level beginning salaries in the corporate world. We worked extra hours as needed and accepted our piddling wages and minimal benefits because we loved what we did and believed in the orchestra and its future. So when you casually throw out the demand that the administrative staff take big pay cuts, think of those people who are barely getting by with what they are making. In the four years I worked for the ASO the administrative staff never received a single pay raise because there was simply no money to spend on raises.
I know that
some decisions have been made in the past that proved to have been bad financial
moves for the organization. I know also
that some really smart decisions were made, and some are still to be determined
as to whether or not they were wise.
That is true of every organization on the planet as well as every
individual or family. God knows if I
could go back and live my life over, I would have done quite a few things
differently. But looking back and
pointing fingers does no good in the present.
We have to deal with the current fiscal picture and make decisions for
the future based on what is true now and what intelligent predictions we can
make about the future. Obviously I’m not
at the bargaining table between the ASOPA and the ASO/WAC management, so any
specific suggestions I might give would be based on speculation at best. I am concerned that the ASO has been hemorrhaging
money in recent years, and I know we can’t continue in that direction and still
have a viable ASO on any level. Just
like my own bank account, the ASO’s account has a finite amount of money with
which to do business. As I have had to deal with a number of my own economic
crises in the past 3 years, I have had to make some really painful
decisions. I have gone without medical
treatments that I needed because I had no insurance and no money to pay for
them. I sold things that were precious
to me, and severely altered my lifestyle to cut every expense I possibly could
in order to survive, and as dramatic as it may sound, I have been scarred by my
experiences. I’m afraid that the ASO may
be at a similar juncture now, and that all will be scarred in some way. But wounds do heal and scars do fade as long
as life continues, and that is what I think everyone is fighting for in the
bargaining discussions right now.
We’re at the
point of some really painful decisions on all sides, and they’re going to hurt. I hate it that our society equates money with
value. Those who earn more or who have
better perks are perceived as more important, and vice versa. Well in the current economic climate, I am earning
50% of what I earned just six years ago.
Am I only half as worthwhile now as I was then? No, though it does sometimes feel like it. I haven’t changed, the world has
changed. If pay cuts do happen or
benefits are reduced, they won’t decrease anyone’s worth, they will just be a
reflection of an economic reality. As I
stood cheering with an enthusiastic crowd at North Atlanta High School last
night, I reflected on how much I love this orchestra. True, they were performing in a high school
auditorium when they should have a state-of-the-art hall like the Philharmonie
as their home. True, they should have
salaries and benefits equal to those major league baseball players who have
stood behind the ASOPA in support. True,
they are each struggling with their own individual and group crises in the wake
of this current situation. But when the
lights came down and Michael Palmer gave the downbeat, it was the music that
won. I saw it in the eyes of all of the
supporters there, in the smiles of the many children, even those sitting on the
stage with the orchestra, and in the joy on the faces of the players as they
did what they do best, play like amateurs in the best Robert Shaw sense of the
word – those who do it purely for love.
Brenda Pruitt
Alto #304
Thank you for writing, Brenda. It takes courage to stand up, figuratively, in front of this group and write about your ambivalence about a situation where you know there is contention ... but courage is a quality I have never known you to be short of. I think the players felt, at one time, as you did: a member of a close-knit and supportive family. Things are different, and it saddens everyone.
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