COUNTERMELODIES

Whitman, an accomplished flutist, shares her struggles to overcome abuse from male authority figures to establish her career in the cutthroat world of classical music.

Born in 1946, the author grew up in Atlanta in the shadow of the older sister she idolized, Melinda. Four years Whitman’s senior, Melinda was the family’s overachieving superstar. Whitman spent her childhood and early adulthood seeking the same approbation from her father that he showered upon Melinda. Per the author, his cruel dismissiveness regarding her many accomplishments and her career aspirations in classical music instilled in her an insecurity that would be reinforced by the abusive behavior of a series of men she trusted. Her friend Anne encouraged her to join the junior high school band with her, where both of them could learn to play the flute. It was a turning point in Whitman’s life; the flute spoke to her soul. In eighth grade, she began taking private flute lessons with the perpetually scowling high school band conductor Warren Little, considered to be Atlanta’s best flutist. To her surprise, he was warmly supportive during their private lessons. Thus began “the quick transformation of Mr. Little from strange band director to beloved teacher and father figure.” In 1966, while in her sophomore year at Emory University (where her father was a tenured professor), Whitman was invited to audition for, and was offered, the position of second flute in the prestigious Atlanta Symphony, becoming its youngest full-time member. It was a major professional achievement that would simultaneously present one of the greatest psychological challenges of her young life. The acclaimed Little was the Atlanta Symphony’s first flutist, sitting next to her in the orchestra. The author describes an inexplicable transformation from Dr. Jekyll into Mr. Hyde, reporting that Little spent five years denigrating her performance, grimacing, and threatening to have her fired. Several years later, after leaving Atlanta, she sought counseling from a Freudian psychoanalyst in training, who, Whitman asserts, betrayed her trust and his professional ethics. After an especially egregious therapy session, she made her second attempt at suicide. 

Classical music forms the structure and provides the energy for this beautifully composed and occasionally heart-wrenching memoir. The author’s passion for the subtleties and mechanical complexities of great orchestral productions flows from her pages. Although the copious minutiae about individual pieces and conductors will be best appreciated by those already well versed in orchestral music, there are passages here that soar, and even the uninitiated (whose eyes may occasionally glaze over a bit) are likely to be intrigued by this behind-the-curtain portrait of the highly competitive classical music arena. Engaging details concerning pitch, range, and techniques of mastering the flute are descriptive enough to fine-tune the attention of the most casual concert attendees. There are incidents in this personal saga that would qualify for inclusion in any compendium of “Me Too” accounts; still, this is a robust story of remarkable perseverance and success in the face of many obstacles.

A disturbing and compelling tale of resilience, determination, and musical passion.