James Levine is one of the greatest living conductors and musicians of our time. We know this because the Metropolitan Opera Orchestra, which usually gets up and leaves as soon as they’ve played the last note, would stay in the pit to join in the applause when Maestro Levine was the conductor, even back in the days before he had to conduct from a wheelchair.
Now he’s been destroyed by accusations from four middle-aged males claiming that he ruined their lives by masturbating them decades ago when they were 16 and 17 years old. The Met responded by summarily canceling all his scheduled appearances.
Apparently nobody is so nitpicking as to question the veracity of these accusers, let alone ask why it took them 40 years to speak up, or what sudden access of public spirit induced them to accuse him now. Given that none of these traumatized victims allege that they were forced, nobody dares ask: even if he touched their precious junk forty years ago during that brief era when sexual freedom wasn’t a contradiction in terms. . . so what?”
Millions of us have been inspired for most of our conscious lives by James Levine as a pianist and conductor. Now this insane society is ready to annihilate him with no one so far uttering a peep in his defense.
We hope no reputable conductor will agree to substitute for him in his cancelled performances. We hope everybody who has tickets to those performances will exchange them for something else. We hope somebody more important than a mere appellate squawk will stand up for him.