BALTIMORE, MD. — Once again, the classical music world reminds us that power is not about merit—it’s about who gets to control the narrative. A longtime concertmaster Jonathan Carney of the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra, with decades of well-known misconduct, is quietly stepping away—not in disgrace, but with celebration, with laurels, with a carefully managed send-off that protects him and those who enabled him.
Let’s be clear. This man was not only a sexual harasser but an active gatekeeper who used his position to retaliate against those who wouldn’t comply with his advances. Women in the orchestra were propositioned for sex. Sub positions were allegedly reserved for those who gave in. Some left music entirely. Some stayed but endured targeted abuse. One even had to seek a restraining order. And yet, the institution protected him at every turn. For 20 years, Principal Oboist of the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra, Katherine Needleman had to endure something unimaginable: showing up on stage, day after day, to create music alongside the very man who had harassed and retaliated against her. Imagine the emotional and psychological toll of being forced to collaborate in close quarters with someone who used their power to make your life a living nightmare—a man who lied about you, diminished your voice, and weaponized his position to isolate you.
Music is supposed to be an act of creation, expression, and unity, but for Katherine, it became a battleground of ethical and emotional contortion. She wasn’t just fighting to play her instrument; she was fighting to preserve her dignity in an environment designed to protect her abuser. For two decades, she had to perform with grace while carrying the weight of betrayal and injustice—while the system turned a blind eye.
This isn’t just cruel—it’s inhumane. No one should have to endure such prolonged, public harm under the guise of “professionalism.” Katherine’s resilience is a testament to her strength, but the fact that she had to summon that strength at all is a damning indictment of the institution that failed her. No one should have to survive in silence while their abuser thrives.
The message this sends is devastatingly clear: If you abuse power, they’ll let you retire in glory. If you speak out against it, you’ll be left to fight alone.
And yet, there’s another undeniable truth: The very voices institutions tried to dismiss are getting louder. The very records they hoped to bury are being shared. The victims who were forced to shoulder this abuse in isolation are now speaking with collective force.
Katherine Needleman recently shared the full entirety of her EEOC charge from 2018 which can be read on her Substack. She also shares sworn affidavits obtained through the Freedom of Information Act related to her case. The affidavits are from three women who were threatened by Carney after being mistaken for helping support Katherine, whose names are redacted for confidentiality purposes. Katherine also shares an excerpt from the peace order filing against Jonathan Carney from the 2nd woman.
Carney’s harassment of Katherine Needleman was not limited to a single incident of propositioning her for sex. It was a sustained campaign of intimidation, retaliation, and public mockery that followed her for decades. His ability to continue this pattern unchecked speaks to a system more concerned with preserving the status quo than safeguarding its artists.
Katherine’s courage in documenting and sharing her experience, along with the voices of others who have come forward through the prior investigation, reveals the depth of the harm Carney inflicted. It also highlights how institutions like the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra enabled him by choosing silence and complicity over accountability.
The same system that claims “only the best” rise to the top has spent decades protecting a predator whose actions have undermined the very standards they claim to uphold. The same institution that claims to uphold artistic integrity is the same one that trades ethics for convenience. The same people who argue that diversity and equity are threats to excellence are the ones propping up mediocrity as long as it benefits them.
If the system won’t change itself, then those who have suffered under it must keep exposing it. No more silence. No more secrecy. No more celebrated retirements for men who built their careers on power and fear.
We don’t need more laureates. We need accountability.
Baltimore Symphony Orchestra Board of Directors, and CEO Mark C. Hanson, are you finally going to stand up and be accountable after gatekeeping for Jonathan Carney all these years?
A System Built to Protect Abusers
The Baltimore Symphony Orchestra’s failures go beyond their complicity in shielding Jonathan Carney—they reflect a broader sickness within the classical music world, where power, prestige, and personal connections often outweigh integrity and justice. Carney’s misconduct wasn’t an open secret—it was a documented fact, investigated and substantiated by multiple sources. And yet, what was the consequence?
Sensitivity training.
Sensitivity training for a man who followed female colleagues into a restroom, encouraged them to kiss, and propositioned musicians for sex. Sensitivity training for a concertmaster who played gatekeeper with women’s careers and used his influence to benefit his romantic partners, bypassing more qualified candidates.
This wasn’t a case of ambiguous misunderstandings. An investigation confirmed inappropriate romantic relationships, comments about women’s bodies, and favoritism toward his future wife, Julie Savignon, even as she fell in rank after refusing to re-audition.
Instead of facing consequences that fit the severity of his actions, Carney successfully overturned a suspension via union arbitration after making inappropriate comments during a performance. What does this tell us? It tells us that the mechanisms meant to hold musicians accountable in major arts institutions are broken, designed to protect powerful figures rather than the people they harm.
It’s almost laughable—if it weren’t so tragic—that the BSO responded to these findings by offering him a celebrated exit, complete with a newly invented “concertmaster laureate” position. Meanwhile, Carney’s supporters, such as former assistant concertmaster Igor Yuzefovich, call him “one of the titans of our era.” In the world of classical music, where reputation is built on connections and institutional loyalty rather than merit, even mediocrity can be glorified if the right people benefit from your presence.
Carney’s defenders reveal something critical about why these abuses persist: When institutions celebrate power over accountability, there will always be those willing to ignore or excuse harm in the name of loyalty. But we cannot allow their voices to drown out the voices of those who have suffered.
Katherine Needleman and other women endured harassment, retaliation, and institutional neglect. No amount of glowing farewell tributes can erase the fact that Carney’s influence was used to destroy careers, damage lives, and compromise the integrity of the orchestra.
A Path Forward for the BSO—and the Classical Music World
If the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra truly wants to be more than a symbol of complacency, here’s what they must do.
Acknowledge the Full Scope of Harm. A brief statement about Carney’s “retirement” is a disgrace. The BSO must publicly acknowledge what the investigation revealed and take responsibility for the harm caused—not just to Needleman, but to every woman who was propositioned, demeaned, or pushed aside.
Reform Audition and Hiring Practices. No more favoritism or backroom deals. Implement strict, transparent policies for hiring and promotion, ensuring that power cannot be used to reward personal relationships or punish those who speak out.
Independent Oversight for Harassment Claims. As long as internal figures, such as the BSO’s attorney and board member Stephen Shawe, are in charge of handling complaints, there will be no real accountability. Investigations must be conducted by independent bodies with no ties to the institution or its leadership.
Support for Survivors. The BSO owes its musicians—especially those who were harassed—more than an apology. They deserve reparative measures, including mental health support, career development opportunities, and public acknowledgment of their courage in speaking out.
Public Accountability for Leadership. Leaders who enabled Carney’s behavior by turning a blind eye or minimizing complaints should not be allowed to remain in positions of power. If the orchestra’s board and management cannot hold themselves accountable, they must step aside.
The classical music world loves its traditions, but this is one tradition that must die. For decades, men like Carney have been allowed to thrive, not because they were the best musicians, but because they held the most power. They’ve been protected by networks of insiders, by institutions more concerned with public image than justice, and by supporters who romanticize their so-called “genius” while ignoring their moral failures.
The truth is, if classical music is to survive as a relevant art form, it must root out the very toxicity that has been rotting its core. Artistic excellence means nothing if it is built on the backs of silenced victims. No more celebrating men who abuse their positions and no more rewarding them with honorary titles.
The Baltimore Symphony Orchestra, and every arts institution watching this unfold, should ask themselves: What side of history do we want to be on? The side that protected abusers and silenced victims—or the side that chose courage, accountability, and justice?
The choice should be obvious, but if we’ve learned anything from this story, it’s that institutions don’t change on their own. They change when people refuse to stay silent.
And silence is breaking.
(c) Harpsichords & Hot Sauce, 2024
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