Good evening, everyone:

Last night, we lost one of the nation’s most talented, kind, visionary, and decent arts administrators: Anne Parsons, the president of the Detroit Symphony Orchestra since 2004. Anne waged her battle with cancer with all the dignity, equanimity, and grace that she brought to everything she did.

Anne was one of the first people I met when I arrived in Detroit. She asked me to dinner at her home with her husband Donald Dietz. The evening had none of the pomp or circumstance – just a lovely dinner in the backyard [this was before she moved to her Eastern Market loft and conducted after-dinner conversations while playing ping-pong with her guests] – that I might have expected from someone who had earned a prodigious nation-wide reputation as an arts administrator of unparallel excellence and effectiveness, whether as the general manager of the New York City Ballet (1998-2004), the general manager of the Hollywood Bowl (1991-’98), or the orchestra manager of the Boston Symphony Orchestra (1983-'91).

I had been told by the same search firm that encouraged me to come to Kresge, that although Anne’s name was always at the top of the list when general manager openings arose for the world’s best-know orchestras, Anne had consistently demurred, stating that she wanted to finish her career in Detroit, her board and orchestra willing.

Her tenure in Detroit epitomized what it looks like to lead a world-class cultural institution with humility, grace, grit, passion, and excellence. Without superimposing her authority, she never shied from inspiring her board, her musicians, and her staff to be in ever-deeper service to community. Without sacrificing the traditions of her art form, she embraced and celebrated the new, the unfamiliar, and the innovative.  Without losing her focus, she continuously sought out ways to partner with her Detroit arts counterparts to enhance the city’s cultural ecology. Without ever sacrificing artistic quality of the highest order, she was a community-builder first and an arts administrator second.

Anne believed to her core in the power of elevating cultural diversity, from those who sat in the orchestra’s seats to those who stood at the front of the house . . . from those who composed the music the orchestra performed to the audiences for whom it was performed.  That belief that has forever changed the Detroit Symphony Orchestra.

With only one exception that I can remember, Anne attended every event celebrating the selection of the Kresge Arts Fellows and the Kresge Eminent Artist. I marveled at how much joy she took in seeing these artists being honored. The last time we were in person for one of these, I asked Anne how she could possibly make time to attend, given that the Orchestra had a performance that night. “Oh, I’ll go there next, Rip. You know, though, that we perform hundreds of times every year, but these artists are recognized like this only once in their career. They need to know that we’re watching, that we’re celebrating them, and that we’re there for them as a community. I wouldn’t miss it.”

Many years earlier, Anne invited me to bring Rocco Landesman, the Chair of the National Endowment for the Arts, to a DSO concert. Before the performance began, Anne stepped onto the stage and – as was almost always the case – spoke without notes. She talked about the visibility that Rocco had brought to the role of arts and culture in community identity and renewal. She reflected on how an elite orchestra could play its part by  reaching into community for performances at schools, nursing homes, community centers . . . or by offering masterclasses to the city’s young people . . . or by programming music that spoke to a place’s heritage, and values. She thanked Rocco for all that he had done to elevate the arts on the federal policy stage.

Rocco is not a particularly sentimental man. But he leaned over to me and said, “I’ve been introduced in a lot of ways over my career [he was a Broadway producer of shows like “Angels in America” and “The Producers”], but never so thoughtfully and elegantly. You have a treasure here.” Indeed, we did.

When the orchestra’s musicians went on strike in 2010-‘ll – at the depths of Detroit’s political and economic troubles – many thought that Detroit would become embroiled in the kind of bitter fight-to-the-death that decimated so many other orchestras before and since. Indeed, the fight over wages seemed to mirror the City’s fight for survival. Management, faced with a $6.5 annual deficit, proposed cutting pay by 25-30%. The musicians saw this as apocalyptic –  an attempt to compromise the orchestra’s world-class status – and fought it vigorously for sixth months. Even after an agreement was reached, there was lingering distrust of, and hostility toward, management. It was hard to see how Anne would find a way forward.

But because her belief in the musicians, and in the institution, trumped politics, Anne went to work repairing the broken trust. In the words of one observer: “After the strike, the Orchestra reinvented itself as the most accessible orchestra on the planet.” It created neighborhood concert series, programmed toward more diverse audience demographics (offering not just jazz and pop, but hip-hop, techno, fund, salsa, and countless other genres), discounted ticket prices for young people, traveled to public and private spaces throughout Detroit to perform in small chamber ensembles, and launched a livestream service. Gradually, the sinews of collective purpose were re-created, and Anne became a leader that the musicians not only respected, but adored. And she not only oversaw the Symphony get out of debt, but presided over the building of a $100 million endowment.

Four years after the strike, I attended another concert with Anne. She took me backstage afterward to talk with Emmanuel Axe, the pianist, and Leonard Slatkin, the music director and conductor. When Anne left the room for a moment, Slatkin turned to me and said, “You know, Anne has managed a miracle here in Detroit. I don’t know of any general manager of any orchestra in America that enjoys the kind of respect from her musicians that Anne does. Don’t ever let her get away.”

Well, Detroit didn’t let Anne get away. I’m not sure we fully appreciate how very lucky we were. But, actually, luck had nothing to do with it. Anne loved Detroit. She loved having been part of its recovery. She loved having helped her institution become an integral part of the civic fabric.

The nation has lost one of its finest cultural leaders. The city has lost one of its greatest champions. We will miss her dearly.

Rest in peace, Anne.

Rip

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