Lisa and Keith were careful not to instill a sense of direct competition in the kids, who were never assigned the same pieces at the same time. "I never felt that I was trying to live up to my elder siblings, because it was such a way of life for us," says Melody. "It was really nice to have siblings who understood exactly what you were going through, especially at Juilliard. If I was crying in the hallway after a horrible lesson, they were right there for me." Since the Browns are currently a success because they all play together, their need to break away from the pack and distinguish themselves is less pressing.
As for perpetuating the musical legacy, the Browns, two of whom are married, take a realistic view. "I think we all realize that the likelihood of recreating what we have in our own families is pretty slim," says Deondra. "We don't want to put that pressure on ourselves. But we do want to give our children the attention and opportunities that we each had."
Deondra was the only sibling with perfect pitch, but since they all started so young, it was not a noticeable advantage. "I had some that had attention spans of gnats versus those that sat for hours, to the point where I would say 'go outside and play!' " says Lisa of the kids' different temperaments. As practicing Mormons, Keith and Lisa believe that music is a spiritual force, an idea that has shaped the younger Browns' view that talent is the music that's inside a person and how that's expressed, not a technical knack.
Pressed to say who among the group were the most naturally gifted as beginners, though, Desirae says, "Deondra and Melody have these skinny, long fingers; it's easier to have shorter fingers when you are first starting. I remember laughing when they would play—it was like watching little spider legs get all twisted up. My teacher would look at me sternly and 'shhh!' me. But the ones for whom it came more naturally were a bit lazier, while the others had such a drive, like, 'Boy, I have to keep up!'"
While each Brown has developed his or her own playing style, any initial differences in aptitude were obliterated by incessant practice. "If you do something for three or four hours a day for 10 years, with just a reasonable amount of aptitude, you're going to get good," says Keith. Anders Ericsson, a psychology professor at Florida State University, has spent his career proving that very point: He's studied expert performers in sports, music, and chess, and has concluded that they were made, not born.
The younger Browns overlook the talent-work debate by naming another factor in their success: emotional closeness. "What helped us eventually be the 5 Browns is the love that we share, the feeling of togetherness that we have in our family," Gregory says. "That in itself helped us keep going, not even just in music."
ALEXANDER WAUGH | The Self-aware Heir
Alexander Waugh, son of the inflammatory but widely loved British journalist Auberon Waugh, grandson of literary giant Evelyn Waugh, great-grandson of poet and publisher Arthur Waugh, tells readers of his memoir, Fathers and Sons, with a nearly audible sigh, that "the whole Waugh thing needed sorting."
All told, nine of Alexander's relatives have produced 180 books; he himself has published two acclaimed nonfiction works: Time and God. The "sorting" of his own dynasty included identifying core characteristics that drove the Waughs, including a fear of boredom and the compulsion to amuse others. "Evelyn was probably terrified of depression, though he expressed it as boredom," Alexander says. "He did things to get stimulation and often caused great offense in the process."
Evelyn's son Auberon obliged his father with highly amusing, gossip-filled letters from boarding school and expected his own children to be equally entertaining. "The great sin in our house was to bore him," Alexander says. "He used to say ' 'trest me!'—his very own contraction for 'interest me.' "
The Waughs also had a tradition of favoring one child. Arthur (Alexander's great-grandfather) worshipped his son Alec while kindly tolerating Evelyn. "The inferiority that Evelyn felt made him become a great writer and beat his brother at the one thing their father cared most about," Alexander says. Evelyn in turn favored his daughter Meg and took her on trips with him.
Alexander's father, Auberon, stopped the cycle of favoritism, and, curiously, he did not inspire in his children a love of books. Auberon, a workaholic who rarely emerged from his study, taught Alexander more about wine than about writing, and seldom talked about his famous father, Evelyn.
The Waughs' literary dynasty is an unapologetic patriarchy. "My mother is a writer, too," Alexander says. "She was a more obvious influence on us, as she took us to art galleries and was enthusiastic about literature. It's harder to describe my father's influence, yet I feel in every bone in my body that his was more profound."
Alexander knew he would eventually be a writer. But he first studied music, produced records, and wrote musicals, all of which he says made his father "gloomy." Auberon was delighted when Alexander began writing, initially as an opera critic. "I don't have a drop of natural talent. I work very hard to write well," Alexander insists. "If you're in a family of writers, though, you have no fear of writing.
Whereas other people try to start and get dizzy and think, 'I have to have a brilliant opening line,' I just saw it as a craft. Also, if you grow up around writers, people are talking with a rich vocabulary and in a precise manner, so you are brought up to think clearly."
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