The 2014 Ivory Trade and Movement Restrictions

John Bishop

Awareness in the wild

Cecil the Lion was a famous and favorite icon of Zimbabwe’s safari tourist industry. He was beloved by thousands who visited his home in Hwange National Park, and his photos were published around the world. He was thirteen years old and was central to a long-standing conservation study by biologists at Oxford University who had fitted him with a tracking device when he was six years old. He was huge and majestic, and he was easily recognizable because of big black streaks in his mane.

In the last days of July 2015, Cecil became an instant posthumous global celebrity when he was killed by Walter Palmer, a dentist and skilled trophy hunter from Minnesota. International news services and social media have been crackling with the story, Palmer is in hiding, the guide and landowner who had been paid to help with the hunt have appeared in court and been released on bail, and Cecil’s remains have been returned to the Zimbabwean government.

Palmer had paid for a license for such a hunt, but allegedly illegally lured Cecil outside the park, and as of this writing on August 1, the United States and Zimbabwean governments are discussing Palmer’s extradition. Thanks to social media, donations are pouring into wildlife conservation funds in six-figure clumps. Jane Goodall, who famously has spent more than fifty-five years studying chimpanzees at Gombe National Park in Tanzania, released a statement lamenting Cecil’s death that concludes, “Only one good thing comes out of this—thousands of people have read the story and have also been shocked. Their eyes opened to the dark side of human nature. Surely they will now be more prepared to fight for the protection of wild animals and the wild places where they live. Therein lies the hope.”

You can read the full statement on Dr. Goodall’s blog at www.janegoodall.org. And by now, her “thousands of people” must be many millions.

The timing of Cecil’s death was exquisite. Just a few days earlier, on July 25, while traveling in Kenya, President Obama released a statement that would effectively ban commercial trade in African elephant ivory in the United States. That announcement follows Obama’s executive order of July of 2013, in which he declared that the United States should “lead by example,” encouraging other nations to step up their active participation in the preservation of that majestic species. The United States Fish and Wildlife Service (USFWS) followed on February 25, 2014, by proposing a new rule affecting the trade and movement of ivory. You can see a simple summary of the specifics of the 2014 rule at www.fws.gov/international/travel-and-trade/ivory-ban-questions-and-answ…. For more background, I recommend you refer to the excellent article written by harpsichord specialist Anne Acker and published in the September 2014 issue of The Diapason. Ms. Acker did a great deal of excellent research and was generous with her time talking with me.

 

The specifics are presented in a chart. They include exemptions for any ivory more than one hundred years old (difficult to prove in many cases) and light exemptions for the domestic transportation of privately owned ivory. If you want to bring your grandmother’s harmonium home, there are no federal restrictions, unless your grandmother lived outside the United States.¹ No importing of ivory is permitted, period—except sports-hunted trophies. There is no restriction on importing sports-hunted trophies. Hang that on your wall.

 

Citing CITES

On July 1, 1975, the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species of Wild Flora and Fauna (CITES, pronounced sight–eze) was implemented, the culmination of nearly fifteen years of international negotiation. The text of the treaty had been finalized two years earlier by eighty nations. Today, more than 180 nations enforce the terms of CITES, which oversees the protection of more than 30,000 species of animals and plants. You can see a list of protected species at www.fws.gov/
endangered/species/us-species.html. They are categorized as “E” (endangered), “T” (threatened), “SAT” (threatened because they’re similar in appearance to an endangered species), etc.²

Loxodonta africana (the African elephant) is the source of the most highly prized ivory, and that species was added to Appendix I of CITES on January 18, 1990. USFWS regulations currently in effect allow trade in ivory that was legally removed from the wild before that date.

With Obama’s Kenyan announcement, the clock started ticking. The USFWS released the latest version of the new ban on trade and movement of ivory. The agency is receiving comments from the public until September 28, 2015, after which the regulation will be amended once more and put into force. The version now open to comment includes revisions of that published in Feburary 2014 (that you’ve already read). You can read the latest proposed revisions at www.fws.gov/international/pdf/african-elephant-4d-proposed-changes.pdf…;

Again, it’s a neat summary, comparing the present proposal with that of 2014, and it’s easy to read. While commercial imports are entirely prohibited, sports-hunted trophies would now be limited to two per hunter per year, a big improvement over no limit at all, but if you maxed out the limit year after year, you’d need a mighty big house in which to hang them.

 

The Times Square Crush

Anyone who has navigated the sidewalks and pedestrian walkways in New York’s Times Square knows about the crush of humanity that throbs twenty-four hours a day. On June 19, 2015, the USFWS staged a different Times Square Crush. A huge industrial rock-crushing machine, the hulking behemoth that crushes boulders into gravel at highway-construction sites, was driven into the center of the square, and a ton of ivory artifacts that had been seized in an undercover operation was sent up into the machine on a conveyor belt and crushed to powder. Secretary of the Interior Sally Jewell presided over the event.

Two years earlier, the USFWS staged an ivory crush in Denver, Colorado, at which six tons of artifacts were destroyed. A statement published on the website of the USFWS reads, “Since that crush, several governments throughout Europe, Africa, the Middle East, and Asia, have also destroyed ivory, joining with us to highlight this worldwide crisis and emphasizing that only a worldwide solution will stop wildlife poaching.” You can read the full statement and view videos of the Times Square Crush at www.fws.gov/le/elephant-ivory-crush.html.

These events were controversial—cheered by conservationists who believe that eliminating the commercial value of ivory is the strongest tool for the elimination of illegal poaching, and decried by others who claim that such destruction will not bring back dead elephants, and that diminishing the value of the ivory will diminish the care of the animals in the wild and drive the ivory market underground, likely leading to higher prices for illegal ivory. Still others feel that destruction of beautiful artifacts may make an emotional or political point, but would never have any impact on illegal poaching in Africa.

 

Who uses elephant ivory?

Readers of The Diapason will naturally think of musical instruments. Piano, organ, harpsichord, and harmonium keyboards were most typically made of ivory. Ivory veneers on natural keys are prized because as a natural grained material, ivory absorbs moisture, so the perspiration from the performers’ fingers doesn’t build up into slick pools on the keys. Ivory is also the most durable natural substance used on keyboards and arguably one of the most beautiful. And many organ consoles have engraved ivory knob faces, knob heads, and coupler tablets. 

Many guitars, violins, and other stringed instruments have small ivory parts such as the bridges and nuts that bear the strings, where it is prized for its acoustical properties. Ivory is also used for decorative elements on many musical instruments, and some wind instruments, both western and non-western, are made entirely of ivory.

Artisans who fashion high-quality pool cues are the largest consumers of new ivory (except in China, where carving remains prevalent), which is used in the tip (where the cue meets the ball) and the ferrules that join sections of the cue. Master players feel that those ivory parts give the ideal strike of cue to ball. No pianos and only a very few pipe organs are built with new ivory on the keyboards.

Builders of custom firearms use large pieces of ivory for rifle stocks, pistol grips, and many forms of ornamentation. And there is an active community of carvers and sculptors who specialize in working with ivory.

 

What does it have to do with me?

The proposed ban on trade and movement of ivory would have a big effect on the manufacture, restoration, sales and purchases of musical instruments. The American Institute of Organbuilders (AIO) has engaged a lobbyist, and the Associated Pipe Organ Builders of America (APOBA) is participating in a larger lobbying effort spearheaded by the National Association of Music Merchants (NAMM).

There is a revision aimed at musical instruments. In the “Proposed Changes” PDF that you’ve just read, the section of the chart devoted to “Sales across state lines” includes an exemption for certain manufactured items that include a small (de minimis) amount of ivory. Here’s the section from that PDF that defines de minimis:³ 

 

“What is the de minimis exemption? 

The proposed rule provides an exemption from prohibitions on selling or offering for sale in interstate and foreign commerce certain manufactured items that contain a small (de minimis) amount of ivory that meet the following conditions: 

 

A. If the item is located in the United States, the ivory must have been imported prior to January 18, 1990, or imported under a CITES pre-Convention certificate with no limitation on its commercial use. 

B. If the item is located outside of the United States, the ivory must have been removed from the wild prior to February 26, 1976. 

C. The ivory is a fixed component or components of a larger manufactured item and not the primary source of the value of the item. 

D. The ivory is not raw. 

E. The manufactured item is not made wholly or primarily of ivory. 

F. The total weight of the ivory component or components is less than 200 grams.

G. The item must have been manufactured before the effective date of the final rule.”

 

Item “F” in that list is directed at musical instruments. The USFWS acknowledges that 200 grams is the typical weight of the ivory veneers on a piano keyboard, and as that would allow the usual amounts of ivory found in stringed and wind instruments, it seems a fair number.

But let’s talk about the organ. A standard 88-note piano keyboard has 52 natural keys—the average weight of ivory for each natural key is about 3.8 grams. A standard 61-note organ keyboard has 36 naturals, which at 3.8 grams each would total about 137 grams for each keyboard. And here’s where the math fails for the pipe organ:

 

• Most organs have at least two keyboards—ivories on a two-manual organ would weigh a total of 272 grams, well over the limit.

• Many finer organ keyboards have special thick-cut ivory, at least twice as thick as that found on a piano.

• Many organ consoles have ivory knobs and tablets. The elegant 1¼″ ivory faces found on older E.M. Skinner organs weigh about 10 grams each.

• Using those facts, a four-manual console with a hundred knobs would contain nearly 1400 grams of ivory, which is almost 3¼ pounds!

 

That may seem like a lot of ivory. But let’s go back to the sports-hunting exception. According to the website www.fieldtripearth.org, the average weight of an African elephant’s tusk is around 135 pounds. A trophy hunter could legally bring home four tusks a year—that’s 540 pounds hanging over someone’s fireplace.

Under the proposed restrictions, it would be illegal to buy, sell, or transport organ consoles, it would be illegal to file or sand existing ivory during restoration of a console, and it would be illegal to use replacement ivories salvaged from other keyboards to replace those chipped or cracked. “Working” ivory, altering existing and otherwise legal artifacts, would be completely prohibited. If your church hired an organbuilder from another state to restore the Skinner organ, they would be prohibited from transporting the console back to their workshop. They’d have to leave the keyboards and stop jambs behind.

 

What’s the solution?

Earlier, I mentioned that the clock is ticking while the USFWS receives comments from the public. The USFWS website has clear instructions about how to submit your opinion:

 

We have published a proposal to revise the African elephant rule under section 4(d) of the ESA [50 CFR 17.40 (e)]. This proposed rule is open for public comment until September 28, 2015. To view a PDF of the proposed rule, go to http://www.fws.gov/international/pdf/african-elephant-4d-proposed-rule-….

To read the proposal and provide comments upon publication, please go to the Federal eRulemaking Portal at http://www.regulations.gov. In the search box, enter FWS-HQ-IA-2013-0091 (the docket number for this proposed rule). You may submit a comment by clicking on “Comment Now!” The Service will review and consider all comments received by September 28, 2015 before publishing a final rule.

 

While preparing this essay, I’ve spoken with the presidents of the American Institute of Organbuilders and the Associated Pipe Organ Builders of America, the attorney engaged by the National Association of Music Merchants, a supplier of ivory, and an environmental journalist, and I’ve heard conflicting opinions. 

Some conservationists hold an extreme position that all trade in ivory should be banned without any exceptions. Others feel that some kind of middle ground is reasonable, and the USFWS seems to be receptive to such input. The 200-gram exception shows that. Still others feel that the proposed restrictions are counter-productive and could actually result in harming the stability of the elephant population while encouraging illegal trade. 

 

What’s the answer?

I will go to www.regulations.gov, enter FWS-HQ-IA-2013-0091 into the search field, and submit these suggestions:

 

• On January 18, 1990, the African elephant was added to Appendix I of CITES. The current regulation allows trade of de minimis amounts of ivory that was legally removed from the wild before that date.

The spirit of the 200-gram exception is to exempt ivory as found in musical instruments.

Pipe organs require more natural keys than pianos. Because the use of ivory as found in organ consoles is identical to that in pianos, any amount of ivory found in pipe organ consoles, legally removed from the wild before January 18, 1990, should be exempted.

• Much of the impetus behind the bans and the staged crush events is the possibility of new ivory being disguised as antique and slipped into the market. (Anyone who has spilled coffee or tea on a keyboard knows it can be done!) But I doubt such disguise is possible with older organ keyboards.

I wonder if the USFWS can suggest ways that legitimate craftsmen could help watch for disguised illegal material.

• There’s an exception in the proposed rules for museums, allowing the display of ivory artifacts in their galleries, or as part of traveling exhibitions.

Religious, educational, and other not-for-profit institutions could be granted similar exemptions for the preservation of their existing musical instruments.

• If the regulation allows even one self-indulgent trophy hunter to bring home a carcass or part of one, it shouldn’t restrict the sale of an historic organ console.

 

My several conversations have made it clear that whatever revisions are made, no new use of ivory and no importation will be permitted. That’s off the table. This will devastate some businesses, and severely limit others. It’s likely that no new “working” of ivory that’s less than a hundred years old will be permitted, including material dating from before 1990. While it’s possible that a subsequent presidential administration would weaken or reverse these rules, there’s less than a month left as you read this to comment before they take effect.

While I believe that ivory is the premium material for use on keyboards, I know very well that there are other suitable, even desirable materials. Cow bone has natural grain and therefore similar absorbing properties, though quality varies, and I know of bone keyboards that haven’t held up well. Many tropical hardwoods (some of them endangered species) work well, though they don’t wear as well as either ivory or bone. Fruitwoods are great, and you can throw the scraps in your barbeque grill to flavor the meat. And pretty much every modern concert piano has plastic keys. Scores of great musicians play on plastic before huge audiences every day. It would be hard to maintain that it’s impossible to build pipe organs without new working of ivory.

The 1990 rule works for me. If musical instruments built since then included ivory harvested earlier, they should be exempted. But from now on, no new cutting of any ivory.

Notes

1. I’m discussing only federal restrictions. It’s important to note that some states are enacting more restrictive rules, possible criminalizing possession of ivory, including mammoth ivory, which is not an endangered species. 

2. Go to www.fws.gov/endangered/species/us-species.html, and click on “mammals.” You’ll see that the African elephant is listed as threatened, not endangered. 

3. According to the dictionary imbedded in my laptop, de minimis is an adjective defined as “an amount too trivial or minor to merit consideration, especially in law.”

John Bishop

The right tool for the right job

Parking a car in New York City is not for the faint of heart. I can reliably find a space in our neighborhood, as long as I remember to feed the meters ($3.50 per hour), and move the car, following street sweeping regulations, between 8:00 and 8:30 a.m. every day except Sunday. If I park at 7:00 p.m. on Saturday, I don’t have to do anything until the Monday morning sweepers. There’s an easy rhythm to weekday parking on East 9th Street. The entire street turns over for the sweepers, and like clockwork, at 8:30, the parking spaces fill with contractors’ trucks. There are six apartment buildings on our block, perhaps eight hundred apartments, and there are always a slew of home renovations going on. Co-op apartment buildings have rigorous rules stating the hours during which contractors can work,¹ so they all drive off between 4:30 and 5:00, and the whole street opens up.  

People in other neighborhoods enjoy “Alternate Side Parking” (ASP). There, parking is free, but cars must be moved at times designated on signs on every street, for example, 9:00 to 10:30 a.m., Monday and Thursday. At those times, car owners sit in their vehicles reading the newspaper, doing e-mail and crossword puzzles, and drinking coffee. An armada of police cars and tow trucks lurks at the end of the block until the appointed time, followed by the sweeper with lights flashing and horns blowing. No one doubts the sincerity of the enforcement of these regulations. The moment the posted time passes, motorists jockey to reclaim their spaces in a two-ton ballet that can get pretty comical.

The city maintains a website/app/phone service called 311 where they publish announcements such as snow-related school closings, and the blessed suspension of ASP for such reasons as religious holidays. When ASP is suspended, parkers get the relief of a few extra days of not having to move their vehicles. Funny when you think of it though—why have a vehicle if you have to go out of your way not to move it?

I have two secret weapons when I need to park my car for more than a couple days. One is a space in a commercial lot at 125th Street in Harlem, frequented by moving companies, bookmobiles, and bloodmobiles. It’s a thirty-minute ride on the subway, but it’s inexpensive and handy. The other came when we finished the installation of an organ in suburban New Jersey a couple years ago, and the pastor generously offered me parking privileges in their lot. It takes me almost an hour to get there by train, but if I’m not going to need the car for more than ten days, it’s worth the ride.

 

City slicker

Throughout my career, I’ve kept a fleet of tool bags, work lights, and vacuum cleaners in my car, taking for granted that I would always be able to park easily close to the job site and carry my tools inside. But when Wendy and I moved to New York City a couple years ago, I realized that I should create a “City Bag” that would stow enough tools for typical service calls and be light enough to be carried on the subway. Simple idea—but it turned out to be a tricky challenge. We work on organs with electric, pneumatic, and mechanical actions, which means I need to have several layers of specialized tools with me. Electrical testing equipment, soldering iron, tuning cones, voicing tools, pallet spring pliers are added to a collection of ordinary hand tools. You don’t need a wind-pressure gauge at every service call, but when you need one, you really need one, and Ace Hardware doesn’t carry them. And a good tool kit includes at least a dozen screwdrivers of different shapes and sizes—there’s always one ornery screw hidden behind a windchest leg that calls for an impossible angle. 

Besides tools, the conscientious organ technician carries an assortment of five or six different types of leather and felt for pneumatic repairs. He has little packages of replacement chest magnets and magnet armatures, leather and Heuss nuts for tracker action (and the special nut driver for the Heuss nuts), felt punchings for keyboards, screws, nails and brads, doodads and widgets. He has wood glue, contact cement, epoxy, and super glue, and he carries a tube of silicone adhesive (tub caulk), but he won’t admit to it. He has silicone lubricant, graphite, WD-40, a styrene candle stub (for lubricating screws), and oil and grease for blower motors. He has a couple flashlights and a fluorescent worklight with extension cord.

The terrific advances in battery technology means that cordless drill/screwdrivers are really useful, and there are some compact models that are surprisingly powerful. With a charger and one spare battery, you can work all day. Add that to your kit, along with a couple indexes of screwdriver and drill bits. I add a Tupperware container full of unusual bits. This includes bits I’ve filed fine and/or narrow for special applications, some extra long ones, and a messy heap of screws, just in case.

When I set out to assemble a City Bag, I found a neat, briefcase-shaped bag with lots of pockets, zippered compartments, a padded shoulder strap, and a little plastic tray with dividers to hold assortments of doodads. I stuffed it with hundreds of tools, bottles, vials, sandpaper, lens cleaners for my glasses, earplugs, band-aids, and all the scraps and paraphernalia I could think of. I included an electric meter, soldering iron, test light, and a wind-pressure gauge. Great, but it weighed a ton. 

I lumbered onto the 6 train to go to the Upper East Side for a service call and was exhausted by the time I arrived. And I was missing tools from the first moment. Over the next several sessions I kept a list of things to add, and tried again. During this period, my piano tuner came to our apartment twice, and I envied the backpack-shaped thing he carries. It seemed to include everything he needed, but of course, he just doesn’t need as much as I do to service pipe organs.

In the months before Easter I visited dozens of churches, some in New York where I lugged the City Bag on and off the subways, and some in suburbs and in Boston where I could use my car and the larger, more comprehensive sets of tools. But even then I was often missing things, or at least having to trudge back to the car for something. It was time to start over and get it right. I figured that after more than 40 years in the business, I should at least have a proper tool kit.

We spent a week at our place in Maine where I have a nice workshop. I dumped out both of my tool kits in separate piles and spread them out on a clean workbench. Now it was easy to compare the two, take an inventory, and complete them both by routing through drawers of old tools and buying a few new things. I decided not to worry about some details—it’s okay if diagonal wire cutters in the two kits have different colored handles.

I compared and combined the lists of stuff besides tools—leather, parts, lubricants, adhesives, solvents, and the like. Because the City Bag is necessarily smaller than the Car Bag, I had to make some tough choices, but I did save some space by switching to small containers of things. (I don’t need the 11-ounce WD-40, or the 8-ounce Titebond glue in the City Bag.)

I had grown to dislike my Car Bag. It was made of heavy nylon fabric, but it was square and bulky with hard corners, so it banged against my knees as I carried it. I found a new beauty with 60 pockets and a big center compartment. I added a second larger kit with wheels and collapsible handle that holds the cordless drill and lots of the other heavier stuff. And I got a couple of bungees so I could strap the Car Bag to the top of the Roller Board. Terrific. 

I stuck with the same briefcase style thing for the City Bag, but added a Big-Mouth satchel for the bulkier stuff and a totally cool collapsible two-wheel dolly, again with bungees. It’s heavy on the subway stairs, but rolls like a dream on the sidewalks—and when I go to a church and open my bags, those tools gleam and fairly jump into my hands.

 

It’s a tool thing.

People who work with tools have a thing about tools. My Facebook page is loaded with colleagues’ photos of new tools. One colleague posted a video he took aboard his new tractor while rototilling his voluptuous garden. “No texting while tilling!” Another friend shared photos of his stroke sander—a cool rig with very long belt of sandpaper that passes “360 feet of abrasive over the wood per second.” Several organ shops have recently acquired CNC routers, those pickup-truck-sized magical computer-guided rigs that take much of the hand labor out of building just about anything from wood.

Near our place in Maine, there’s an old-timer who runs a boatyard. He’s also the town’s harbormaster. The centerpiece of the place is an ancient truck-tractor (the front part of a semi-trailer truck) moored to the ground and fitted with a huge winch. A forty- or fifty-foot wooden sailboat is floated up to a huge car mounted on rails, balanced and secured on stands, and the powerful old diesel engine roars and belches as it draws the 80,000-pound boat out of the water. That machine is just as much a tool as the knife in his pocket.

A couple months ago, the Cooper Hewitt, Smithsonian Design Museum in New York City (5th Avenue at 91st Street) hosted an exhibition of tools. It included a remarkable variety of things from tiny pocket kits of gentlemen’s grooming tools, to a scale model of a 4,500-ton Tunnel Boring Machine (TBM) with a cutting diameter of more than 50 feet. The centerpiece of the exhibit was a spectacular sculpture comprising thousands of hand tools suspended mobile-style, arranged with pass-through aisles. But the one that really got me was the “Tonometer” designed and built in 1876 by Rudolph Koenig (French, born in Germany, 1832–1901). It comprises 670 tuning forks that span the 49 semi-tones of four octaves (that’s almost 14 forks per semi-tone), which “afforded a perfect means for tuning any musical instrument.”² I wonder what Monsieur Koenig would have thought of the $9.95 Cleartune app I have in my iPhone.

 

Chimps do it.

Jane Goodall started studying chimpanzees in the Gombe Stream Chimpanzee Reserve in Tanganyika in 1960. I expect that most of us have seen films produced by the National Geographic Society that document her work. In November of 1960, she watched a chimp she had named David Graybeard poking pieces of grass into a termite mound, then raising the grass to his mouth. She didn’t understand what he was doing, so after he left, she tried it herself and found that the termites gripped on to the blade of grass. She realized that David was using the grass as a tool to feed himself by fishing the insects out of their otherwise inaccessible habitat. 

It’s funny to think that there is not much of a leap from a chimpanzee fishing for termites to a French scientist machining 670 tuning forks or to a modern crane or hydraulic machine. Of course our tools have gotten increasingly sophisticated and complex, but every tool shares the same conceptual origin—the adaptation of something to help us do work. Tomorrow, I’m joining a couple of my colleagues from the Organ Clearing House in Pittsburgh to dismantle an organ. Can’t wait to wheel those new kits into the building.

 

Government regulation

When I lived in rural Ohio, I had a neighbor who was a truck driver for a well-known chemical company. You might guess that his job was delivery of product. But no. They filled his truck with frightful waste, cracked the spigot at the back of the trailer, and sent him driving across the country, dribbling poison on the highways. It’s reasonable for the government to contain that sort of activity. 

In 2006, the pipe organ trade was involved in an example of government regulatory hooey when the European Parliament passed the Restriction of Hazardous Substances Directive, which restricts the use of six substances in electrical equipment. It was aimed at the careless disposal of millions of cell phones and other personal electronics. Fair enough. I agree that we shouldn’t poison our rivers and lakes with lead, mercury, cadmium, hexavalent chromium, polybrominated biphenyls, or polybrominated diphenyl ether. Each one sounds nastier than the last. (You can read more about this at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Restriction_of_Hazardous_Substances_Direct….)

But wait: Pipe organs are electrical equipment, and it’s hard to hide that they have significant lead content. The European Parliament was talking about parts-per-million, while we measure our lead by the ton. Nevertheless, the restriction stood. The organ from a British cathedral was dismantled for restoration, and the new restriction would mean it couldn’t be put back together. The short story is that the international pipe organ community flung petitions back and forth across the Atlantic, and a loophole was created to separate pipe organs from
this restriction. 

The September 2014 issue of The Diapason included an excellent and troubling article by Anne Beetem Acker titled “The 2014 Ivory Trade and Movement Restrictions.” On February 11, 2014, President Obama issued an executive order effectively banning the trade and transportation of ivory, period. Ms. Acker describes the loophole: 

 

You may import an item containing ivory as part of a household move or inheritance, or as part of your own musical instrument or as part of a traveling exhibition as long as the item contains “worked elephant ivory that was ‘legally acquired’ and removed from the wild prior to February 26, 1976, and has not been sold or otherwise been transferred for financial gain since February 25, 2014.”³

 

That’s it. Until February 11, 2014, we at the Organ Clearing House considered ivory keyboards to be an asset. A simple organ built by Schantz or Reuter in the 1940s would have ivory keyboards, and because ivory is such a durable material, they would often be in perfect condition. I choose not to share my political views in this public forum. That’s not the point of this magazine or my regular column. But I sure wish my president had thought this one through a little better. To the best of my knowledge, Harry Truman and Richard Nixon are the most recent presidents who played the piano. I don’t know if Bill Clinton’s saxophone has any ivory on it.

I’ve had the thrill of an hour-long ride through the Thai jungle on a huge and gentle elephant. I am horrified by photos of majestic animals slaughtered for their tusks. I may be shortsighted and politically incorrect, so help me here. How in the name of tarnation will selling and moving a sixty-year-old pipe organ contribute to the slaughter of elephants?

I work with keyboard instruments every day. I talk regularly with dozens of colleagues across Europe and the United States. And I read the publications from our professional organizations like the Organ Historical Society, the American Institute of Organbuilders, and the Associated Pipe Organ Builders of America. Excepting a few private conversations, Ms. Acker’s article is my first exposure to the severity of this order.

Some of my colleagues only build new organs, so are not affected by President Obama’s executive order. But the market for new instruments has been shrinking steadily for years, and many of us in the world of organbuilding find much, if not most of our revenue in the renovation and restoration of historic organs. 

On February 10, 2014, it was perfectly legal to dismantle an organ with ivory keyboards, load it in a truck, take it across state lines to your workshop, restore it, return it to the church, and be paid for your effort. Now it’s not. The fact that Obama’s language includes “trade and movement” implies that we couldn’t even do it for free. 

What do you think? ν

 

Notes

1. This is good for the quality of life as it limits noise to certain hours of the day, but surely adds to the cost of renovations.

2. Cooper Hewitt Design Museum, legend at tool exhibit.

3. Anne Beetem Acker, “The 2014 Ivory Trade and Movement Restrictions: New regulations and their effects,” The Diapason, September 2014, 28.

John Bishop

 

Blest be the tie that binds

Our hearts in Christian love;

The fellowship of kindred minds

Is like to that above.

 

That’s one of the great old chestnuts of hymnody. Who reading those words doesn’t have that tune buzzing in their ears? Everyone knows it. Verse after verse goes by, each building on the way we depend on each other, support each other, and live with each other. It’s usually in F Major or G Major—I prefer G, or maybe start in F and modulate a couple times. Nice to step the tonic of the last chord down a major third, let that become the dominant of the new key, throw in the seventh, and start This glorious hope revives . . . up a half step!

The text is by John Fawcett, London, 1782. The tune is Dennis by Hans Nägeli (1773–1836) and later adapted by Lowell Mason (The Psaltery, 1845). It’s as familiar as they come. But did you ever stop to think that the meter (SM; 8.8.6.6.8) is that of a limerick? Everybody sing: 

 

Writing a limerick’s absurd,

Line one and line five rhyme in word,

And just as you’ve reckoned, 

Both rhyme with the second;

The fourth line must rhyme with the third.

 

To make this trick work, you may choose between including the upbeat or not, and you sometimes have to place two or more syllables on the last beat of a line. Everybody sing:

 

There once was a fellow named Beebe,

Planned to marry a woman named Phoebe,

He said, “I must see 

What the minister’s fee be,

Before Phoebe be Phoebe Beebe.”

§

Last month our friend Jim passed away. His death is a first for us—the first of close friends roughly our age to pass away—and he’s been on my mind a lot. He was a prolific organic gardener and a quintessential “foodie.” He had a great love and real appreciation for fine wine and, since a recent trip to Scotland, single malt scotch. He played guitar a little, and he and his wife Lois were frequent attenders and strong supporters of musical ensembles, especially the Boston Symphony Orchestra and the Metropolitan Opera. They traveled together frequently, especially to Italy where they spent much time and had many friends.

In addition to all this, Jim was a geologist, and he had a huge collection of minerals and ores. After his death, Lois is dealing with the dispersal of hundreds of specimens. Some are the size of a chestnut while others are huge—too heavy for one person to carry. The garage and basement are full of Jim’s rocks. Thankfully, Jim’s friends from the Boston Mineral Club have rallied to help with the task. That fellowship of kindred minds—each individual a little crazier than the last—is a tight society of people who are passionate about the variety of minerals that comprise the earth. You might say (as they often do), they have rocks in their heads. But they sure have been wonderful to our friend Lois in her sadness. Everybody sing:

 

Some people I hang with are jocks

With an aura of dirty white socks.

When they ask me to play

I say, “Maybe some day.

But my principal passion is rocks.”

§

Last summer Wendy and I launched and christened our new boat, Kingfisher. She’s a Marshall 22 built by Marshall Marine in Padanaram, which is a village of South Dartmouth, Massachusetts, just across a bay from the great fishing and whaling capital of New Bedford, an easy sail in a small boat from Nantucket. She’s a broad-beamed, gaff-rigged craft of a class that was used originally for commercial fishing before boats had engines because she can carry lots of cargo and can be sailed single-handed. When I tell people she’s a catboat, they often think of those little rocketship-boats with two hulls. No, not a catamaran, a catboat. She’s only twenty-two feet long, but more then ten feet wide, with lots of space inside for hauling fish! She has a centerboard so we can go into shallow inlets, a little diesel engine to keep us off the rocks, and pretty, classic lines.

Even before we had a chance to put her in the water we joined the Catboat Association. There are about four hundred members, and annual dues are $25. Last February we attended the CBA Annual Meeting at the Marriott Hotel in Groton, Connecticut. We had such fun that we’re going again this year—we’ll miss the Super Bowl, but I’d rather talk about boats. Having been to lots of meetings of pipe organ groups, I’m used to seeing displays of combination actions, tuning tools, CDs, and published music in the exhibition room. This time it was boats on trailers, wood carvers (who could make you a bowsprit or a ribbon-shaped name board for your transom), a couple of smart guys from Yanmar (Japanese manufacturer of marine diesel engines), and monogrammed life jackets. There were workshops about sail handling, navigating, diesel engine maintenance, and lots of storytelling. This fellowship of kindred minds organizes races and other fun events. Catboats, for all their practicality and beauty, are not very fast. One wag spoke up in an open forum saying, “If you wanted to go fast, you should have bought a bicycle.” Racing catboats is a little like racing turtles. May the best man win. Everybody sing:

 

We’re gathered to talk about boats.

At our meetings, we never take notes.

We organize races

In watery places,

And officers win with most votes.

§

In the summer of 2010, Wall Street Journal reporter Jennifer Levitz was covering a story in Washington, D.C., when she noticed a large crowd milling about in the front yard of a church. When she realized they were all wearing nametags on lanyards she figured they were part of a convention and like any good reporter, she walked across to investigate. She was dumbfounded to learn that they were all organists attending a convention, a fellowship of kindred minds. It had never crossed her mind that organists would gather for large professional meetings so she asked a lot of questions about the current state of the pipe organ. She mentioned that she was based in Boston and someone suggested she should interview me to learn about the role of the organ in modern society. 

The result was a story in the Wall Street Journal with the headline, “Trafficking in Organs, Mr. Bishop Pipes Up to Preserve a Bit of History.” (See http://tinyurl.com/mc9xu2y.) The story begins, “John Bishop leaves the soul-saving to the clergy. He’s content to save the pipe organs—and even that isn’t easy.”

By the way, I suggest there are three areas of public life where puns are
a nuisance:

1. Pipe organs (organ donor, organ transplant, piping up, Swell, Great, Positiv?)

2. Boat names (Liquid Assets, A Crewed Interest, Ahoy Vey)

3. Beauty shops (Shear Delights, The Mane Attraction, A Cut Above)

Feel free to continue with new categories!

In response to Jennifer’s call, we met at Starbucks near Faneuil Hall in Boston. We chatted over lattés for an hour or so. Jennifer is a tall, quick-witted, athletic woman, and from her enthusiasm about my topic, you might have thought she had been interested in the organ all her life. But as this was her first foray into our winded world, I took her through Organ Building 101, Church Music 101, and AGO 101. When she asked what I was working on at the moment, I invited her to come with me to Cambridge, near Harvard Square, that afternoon, where I was meeting with officials of Lesley University. The school had purchased a vacant building, formerly the North Prospect Congregational Church, and planned to move the building across its lot to adjoin a planned new building where it would become part of the Art Library, and the Aeolian-Skinner organ was being offered for sale.

Jennifer’s article concluded:

 

It can take years to place an organ, but sometimes there are matches made in music heaven. Within weeks of visiting Lesley University, Mr. Bishop found a home for its organ in a church in Texas. It was loaded onto a tractor-trailer, and off it went, the victory recorded by Mr. Bishop on Facebook.

“Another one leaves town ahead of the wrecking ball,” he wrote.

 

Everybody sing (add another syllable!):

 

We’re glad to have all that publicity.

Helps preserving works of historicity.

She wrote in the paper

’Bout that tricky caper;

By writing, she joined in complicity.  

§

In 1956, Walter Holtkamp installed a revolutionary organ in the tower gallery of the chapel at the Episcopal Theological School (now Episcopal Divinity School) on Brattle Street in Cambridge, Massachusetts—again, near Harvard Square. My father, a retired Episcopal priest, was instructor of Homiletics there when I was a teenager, and he introduced me to Dr. Alastair Cassels-Brown who was professor of church music there, and with whom I had my first years of organ lessons on that Holtkamp organ. 

Over a number of years I learned various tidbits about the early history of that organ; that Charles Fisk was an apprentice with Holtkamp, that E. Power Biggs lived a few blocks away, that Daniel Pinkham as a young disciple of Biggs was always around, that organ historian Barbara Owen was a close part of that circle, and that Melville Smith (director of the Longy School of Music and organist at the First and Second Church in Boston) was strongly connected with the seminary, and friend with all those others. The Holtkamp organ—with low wind-pressures, slider-windchests (though electro-pneumatic action), baroque-inspired reeds, full principal choruses, and a Rückpositiv—was quite the statement for 1956. And that fellowship of kindred minds (Holtkamp, Fisk, Pinkham, Owen, and Smith) must have had some heady conversations as the organ was being installed.

Christ Church (Episcopal) in Cambridge is an eighteenth-century building, complete with Revolutionary War bullet hole, around the corner from the seminary chapel. Stuart Forster is the current organist, and the World War II era Aeolian-Skinner has been replaced by a stunning new organ by Schoenstein. E. Power Biggs was appointed organist there in 1932, work that coincided with his blossoming concert career. In his book All the Stops (PublicAffairs, 2003, page 86), Craig Whitney relates a (to us) delightful story from that era:

Juggling all this took its toll, and when the rector of Christ Church asked Biggs to read the early Sunday service in addition to his musical duties, Biggs refused. The upshot was reported by Charles Fisk, a nine-year-old member of the church’s boy choir, in a note dated January 2, 1935, in the diary his mother had given him for Christmas. “I went to choir practice,” Fisk wrote. “Mr. Biggs wasnt there.” For (at least) the second time, Biggs had been fired from a church job. The leadership of Christ Church had decided that “Mr. Biggs” was more interested in his professional concert career than he was in being a good church musician, and they were right.

Everybody sing:

 

The choirboys all had to stand,

At a wave of the organist’s hand.

But Charlie had noted

And later he wroted

That dear Mr. Biggs had been canned.

§

The same year that Holtkamp installed the organ at the seminary, Rudolf von Beckerath installed a four-manual Werkprinzip tracker-action organ with sixty-five ranks at Trinity Lutheran Church in Cleveland. You can read all about that landmark organ at its own website: http://clevelandbeckerath.org/beckerathorgan.html.

That instrument was a major step toward the revival of interest in classic styles of organbuilding. In the following few years, many more new European-built organs were imported to American churches and schools, notably the 1958 Flentrop installed at the instigation of E. Power Biggs in the Busch-Reisinger Museum (now Adolphus Busch Hall) at Harvard University. That’s the organ on which he recorded the wildly popular series Bach Organ Favorites for Columbia Records—a series that still stands as the best-selling solo classical recordings of all time. Nice going, Biggsy!

In June of 1956, G. Donald Harrison was hard at work finishing the great Aeolian-Skinner organ at St. Thomas Church on Fifth Avenue in New York. He was working under a whopping deadline—Pierre Cochereau, organist of the Cathedral of Notre Dame in Paris, would be playing the opening recital on June 25 as part of the 60th national convention of the American Guild of Organists. During those weeks, New York was suffering both a heat wave and a taxi strike. After working late on June 14, Harrison walked to his Third Avenue apartment, ate dinner with his wife Helen, and sat down to watch Victor Borge present his shenanigans on television. At 11:00 p.m. he suffered a heart attack and died.

Last Christmas, and the previous two Easters, Wendy and I have worshipped at St. Thomas Church, to bask in the glorious sounds of the Choir of Men and Boys led by John Scott, who must be considered among the finest living church musicians. And, it’s a poignant thought that as I write, today is the second anniversary of the death of Dr. Gerre Hancock who led the music there with such distinction from 1971 until 2004. 

I never had a chance to meet G. Donald Harrison, but I can at least say our lifetimes overlapped—by less than two weeks. I was born on March 16, 1956!

As we think about the big changes that were going on in the American pipe organ industry, it’s fun to note other developments in the music world. On January 5, 1956, a truck driver named Elvis Presley made his first recording, “Heartbreak Hotel.”

§

Tom Gleason was Wendy’s Russian History professor at Brown University. He was a wonderful mentor, and as Wendy babysat for his kids when she was a student, Tom and his wife Sarah have remained dear friends to this day. Our daughter Meg was also Tom’s student at Brown—Tom and Sarah were hosts for Meg’s graduation party in their house and garden. And Tom and Sarah joined us for a sailing vacation around Greece’s Dodecanese Islands in the Aegean Sea. Tom and I share a fellowship of kindred minds with a love of limericks. Now, let’s face it, the limericks I’m sharing here, most of which are mine, are not the sort that we usually hear. But in the pages of this august journal, I’m not going there. Everybody sing: 

 

The limerick packs laughs anatomical

In a space that is most economical.

But the good ones I’ve seen 

So seldom are clean, 

And the clean ones so seldom are comical!

The limerick is furtive and mean.

You must keep her in close quarantine.

Or she sneaks to the slums

And promptly becomes

Disorderly, drunk, and obscene.

 

(Modulate up a step, kindred minds.)

 

The next time we’re sitting at table,

And finish the sharing of fable,

We’ll pour from the jugs

And hoist up our mugs,

Sharing limericks as rude as we’re able.

Douglas Reed

William Albright would have celebrated his seventieth birthday on October 20, 2014. Born in 1944 in Gary, Indiana, he died unexpectedly at his home in Ann Arbor, Michigan, on September 17, 1998. One of the most significant composers of organ music in the 20th century, Albright was known mainly for his keyboard works, although he composed for nearly every medium. He received many commissions and awards including the Queen Marie-José Prize for Organbook (1967), two Fulbright grants, two Guggenheim fellowships, two National Endowment for the Arts grants, and two Koussevitzky Competition Awards. His three Organbooks explore new means of idiomatic expression for the organ. A brilliant pianist and organist, he commissioned and premiered many new works for organ. He also performed and recorded the music of James P. Johnson, the complete piano music of Scott Joplin, and his own rag compositions.

The following interviews with Sarah Albright and John Carlson shed light on William Albright’s formative years and his creative process. 

 

Interview with Sarah Albright

Sarah and William Albright were married from 1966 to 1985. Sarah earned her Bachelor of Music degree from Salem College where she studied organ with John Mueller, and received the Master of Music degree from the University of Michigan as a student of Marilyn Mason. She studied in Paris for a year with Marie-Claire Alain. From 1985–2007, she was director of music at the First Unitarian Universalist Church in Ann Arbor. Presently, she teaches a large class of private piano students. 

 

Douglas Reed: How did you meet Bill?

Sarah Albright: I came here to graduate school in 1964 to study with Marilyn Mason. I first recall hearing Bill play in a student recital that fall. In the following months, we became good friends, and on Valentine’s Day, 1966, he proposed to me. We got married in June at the Presbyterian Church in Martinsville, Virginia. We had great music! Mr. Mueller came from Winston-Salem and played for the wedding and Rosemary Russell sang. She was my roommate and later taught at the University of Michigan. We went to Asheville, North Carolina, for our honeymoon and a week later, to Tanglewood where Bill was going to study with George Rochberg. We also met Bill Bolcom that summer. 

 

Let’s talk about your time in Paris. 

The first time we lived in Paris was in ’68–69. Bill had a Fulbright grant to study with Messiaen at the Conservatory. He also studied with Max Deutsch, who was a student of Schoenberg and conducted several of his works. Bill enjoyed being in Messiaen’s class. Messiaen played a lot of recordings for the class and frequently commented “c’est beau ça”. Messiaen also had a fondness for Ives, which Bill really liked, as Bill and Ives have the same birthday, October 20! Bill also looked forward to his lessons with Max Deutsch. They had many conversations about music, composition, and life, which Bill found stimulating and meaningful. 

Bill won the Queen Marie-José prize for Organbook (1967). Sargent Shriver, U.S. ambassador to France, gave a big reception at the American Embassy to honor Bill. The mayor of Geneva also had a dinner for us when Bill was invited to play a concert at the Geneva cathedral on a large Metzler organ. We did a lot of traveling out of Paris. One of Bill’s close high school friends and his wife came to Paris on their honeymoon and we traveled with them to play several organs in Germany, at Ebersmuenster and Marmoutier, and in Holland where we played the organ at Alkmaar and the beautiful Schnitger in Zwolle. 

We lived in Paris again in 1977, this time with our four-year-old son John and four-month-old daughter Elizabeth. Bill had a Guggenheim grant and we lived in an apartment in Neuilly. Here, he composed the Five Chromatic Dances for piano, partly inspired by a Chopin mazurka, op. 17, no. 4, which he often played when he was composing the Dances.

 

How do you think the Paris and European experience affected Bill and his music?

He loved Paris. He was very stimulated and inspired in Paris, where musicians, composers, and artists were appreciated. Yes, he was affected by the French music. He used to listen to Debussy’s La Mer and Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring all the time. 

 

Can you speak about Bill’s early years? 

He was born in Gary, Indiana, but the family moved to New Jersey when Bill was in junior high. His father was a school administrator in West Orange, and his mother was a math teacher and a graduate of the University of Illinois. Bill and his two brothers were in the Cub Scouts, and their parents gave them many opportunities, including lots of Sunday school and church. In high school, Bill had a church job in a New Jersey suburb. 

In Gary, he was really fortunate to have had a fine piano teacher named Gladys Relph. When they moved to West Orange in 1959, he began studying piano with Rosetta Goodkind and composition with Hugh Aitken at the Juilliard Preparatory Department. When he was a junior in high school, he played the Grieg piano concerto with the New Jersey Symphony. During this time he used to take the train into New York for lessons and concerts and enjoyed walking around in the city.

He often checked out scores from the Newark public library for study, and spent a lot of time with two close friends, Glen Phillips, who sang in the St. Thomas Boy Choir, and Leonard Schaper. He and Len worked on building a pipe organ, and Bill played clarinet in the West Orange High School Band.

 

Please tell us about your children.

Bill loved our children, John and Elizabeth. He was very interested in their activities just as his father had been with him and his two brothers. John loved cars almost from day one and when he was about seven years old, we started going to the Detroit Auto Show. We had a great time admiring the cars, sitting in them, and taking pictures. Afterwards, we would take the People Mover to Greek Town for dinner. 

Elizabeth began dance classes at age four and we always looked forward to her dance recitals. Bill took her to dance concerts at U-M and a couple New York shows. He supported her dancing for years and was there to see her graduate from NYU in Fine Arts.

 

Can you speak about Bill’s work as a church musician?

Bill served as music director at the Ann Arbor Unitarian Universalist Church from 1966–1985. In 1970, he began a campaign to fund a new pipe organ for the sanctuary. To raise money he came up with the idea of having a “Ragtime Bash” to coincide with the rising popularity of classical ragtime music. These concerts were held annually until 2007 and were a huge success. The performers were nationally known ragtime players from southeast Michigan, and the church was overflowing with enthusiastic listeners.

From the money raised at the early concerts and donations from the congregation, the church was able to purchase a Holtkamp organ which was installed in 1973. Dedication recitals were played by Bill and the University of Michigan organ faculty. 

The choir loved working with Bill. They performed many standard choral works as well as music by Bill and other School of Music composers. Many students offered special music to enhance the worship services. Through the Ragtime concerts and installation of the organ, Bill had a very definite impact on the Ann Arbor community. The organ is now in a private home in New Orleans.

 

Do you have any final thoughts?

Bill was always appreciative of the teachers who guided and inspired him during his years as a student. Ross Lee Finney, Leslie Bassett, George Wilson, and Marilyn Mason at the U of M, and Messiaen, Max Deutsch, and George Rochberg, all influenced him with their thoughtful teaching and respect for his talent.

Tragically, Bill’s life and creativity were cut short due to complications of alcoholism. It affected his work, and his relationships with his family, friends, colleagues and students. People often tell me how much they miss him. We all do. 

Thank you, Sarah.

 

Interview with John Carlson

John Carlson was Albright’s roommate for one year at the University of Michigan and a close friend in the following years. Carlson earned bachelor and master of music degrees in organ and a master of music degree in composition from the University of Michigan where he studied organ with Robert Glasgow and composition with George Balch Wilson and Leslie Bassett. Carlson taught at the University of Dayton and the University of Michigan, and maintained a private studio in Ann Arbor where he offered instruction in music theory and electronic music composition. His interest in the history and future of recording technologies led to the invention of a holographic data storage system for which he received two U.S. patents. He lives near Muskegon, Michigan, where he continues to pursue his interest in information storage and the acoustics of performance venues.

 

Douglas Reed: When did you meet Bill Albright? 

John Carlson: I met Bill in the fall of 1963 at the University of Michigan in the old School of Music on Maynard Street in Ann Arbor. We lived in the same dormitory. Bill’s roommate was Russell Peck, a fellow composition major. They played records constantly…mostly contemporary music, things that appealed to them as young composers. I frequently spent time in their room, and I vividly recall the first piece I heard: Stockhausen’s Gesang der Jünglinge. This seminal piece of electronic music was shockingly original, combining electronically generated sounds with conventionally produced singing.

The next year Bill and I became roommates. During that year, I came to appreciate the full extent of his musical capabilities as a composer, a performer…and teacher. He was so enthusiastic about imparting his interest and knowledge of this new music. And, Bill’s work ethic was very rigorous. The task at hand would be completed no matter how long it took. If that meant staying up all night, that’s what he did. 

 

Were there any fun times?

Certainly! We would frequently go as a group to the same concerts, movies, and other events such as the ONCE Festival. The ONCE Festival was not a one-time event. There was a series of festivals between 1961 and 1966. These were music and multi-media presentations by a group of composers, performers, and artists that involved use of drama, lighting, staging, and film. Perhaps a performance would occur but once, since you could never get those people together again under that venue and in that circumstance. Apparently, that’s where the title came from. There was a deep seriousness of intent by the original ONCE Group, which included several young composers, all students of Ross Lee Finney: Robert Ashley, George Cacioppo, Roger Reynolds, Donald Scavarda, and Gordon Mumma. Also involved was the artist Milton Cohen, who specialized at that time in theatrical lighting. Bill and I attended at least one ONCE Festival together, probably in 1964. Each one was held in a different place. One was on the top of a parking structure.

 

Do you remember any specific ONCE Festival events? What kinds of sounds did you hear?

One or two of these composers had access to the early University of Michigan Electronic Music Studio. Others worked with their own equipment. Perhaps they used a tape recorder to make a prepared audio tape which accompanied instruments or other activities. Perhaps a cartoon film was used, or someone made his own film. A projection of this film might accompany one or more people playing various instruments. Perhaps someone would recite a poem with dramatic lighting effects. 

Sometimes the intention was to not have a specific piece, but rather to set up a situation and let it evolve. So, the goal was not to provide a “written-down” piece, except for a set of instructions. It would not be possible to go back, pick something off the shelf and recreate it, nor was that the intent. 

 

This is a fine description of Bill’s TIC (1967), composed entirely of little cartoon bubbles with suggested activities for the performers (see Example 1). His BEULAHLAND RAG (1967–69) also includes much improvisation but more specific musical notation and timing (see Example 2). Bill was also the associate director of the University of Michigan Electronic Music Studio. Is there a relationship between his work with electronic music and his acoustic music?

Yes. Understanding some electronic studio techniques from the mid to late 60s may help performers and listeners understand his organ music from that time. The actual electronic generation of sound was done by signal generators that could be found in any electronic repair shop, but instead of just one or two, the University of Michigan studio had a dozen. A large part of working in the early electronic studio was manipulating these electronically generated sounds—sine waves, square waves, and saw-tooth waves—in order to get some kind of humanness to them, some warmth and shape. 

If a series of pitches were desired, each being a short percussive sound, each one would have to be generated and recorded separately on audiotape. Then the tape would be cut up with a razor blade in what was called a splicing block. Next, we taped the little pieces back together interspersed with paper “leader” tape in whatever order we wished. That segment of tape could be played at its recorded speed, either 15 or 7.5 inches per second, or played back at the alternate speed to raise or lower the recorded pitches by a factor of one octave. The tape could be reversed end for end and played backward. This work was extraordinarily time-consuming. The tapes we ended up with consisted of paper leader interspersed with recorded audio segments sometimes only a quarter or half-inch long. By the way, the old advertisement for Maxwell House with the so-called “drips” of coffee were actually sine waves at various pitches that had been chopped up into short segments in the manner I’ve just described.

This effect was difficult to achieve in the electronic music studio, but it was easy to get on the pipe organ. Bill got the same effect by playing widely spaced intervals staccato and very quickly on flute stops. 

 

In Pneuma (1966) there are several passages that sound like they came right out of the electronic music studio. This type of abrupt juxtaposition of sounds or textures surely has a connection with the splicing block you mentioned earlier. Surprising explosions or reductions of sound were stylistic characteristics in several of Bill’s early pieces. (See Example 3.¹⁸)

There aren’t many examples in his music where he emphasized electronic sound. In fact, tonal, rhythmic, and other traditional musical elements are documented in a number of articles and dissertations on his music. But Bill was quite aware of the ability of the modern pipe organ to juxtapose sounds in a way similar to what was being done in an electronic music studio. To a certain extent it was a lot easier on the organ than on any other instrument. 

 

At the end of Benediction (Organbook I), the alternation of two chords includes the rapid succession of ten different organ timbres (see Example 4).

It must have been a pleasure for Bill to produce such musical gestures so easily. Oddly enough, the Hammond organ has come to be respected as a precursor to the electronic synthesizer because of its unique ability to manipulate various sine waves selected by drawbars. Bill had a healthy respect for that. Also, the attack and decay of the Hammond organ sound is very abrupt. It’s suddenly on, and then it’s off. There is no soft beginning to each specific note. Each has a percussive quality that was very familiar to people working in the early electronic music field. 

 

That attack could be accentuated on the Hammond with various other controls. This relates to several passages in Benediction (Organbook) where the beginning of a sustained chord is articulated, by a louder, more harmonically developed sound on an adjacent manual. (See Example 5.²¹)

Another element you can hear in Bill’s organ music, a direct result of his work in the electronic music idiom, relates to masses of sounds or tone clusters. One of the techniques in the early electronic music studio was to gradually alter the speed of the tape recorder. We could do that with those professional tape recorders by taking them off the line voltage and, employing one of our sine-wave oscillators, generating our own alternating current so that we could operate it not only at 60 cycles per second, but also at 59, then 58, 57, 56, thereby decelerating the speed of the tape recorder’s motor. 

We could take a very complex natural sound—perhaps the low-pitched, sustained singing with complex overtones of a group of Tibetan monks—record it and then slow it down to half that speed to get it extremely low, or we could start the tape recorder playing back at an artificially higher speed and then slow the tape recorder down very, very carefully to make a glissando of this massed sound. You can hear Bill emulating that in his organ pieces where he asks for the palm of a hand to move a note-cluster up and down the keyboard slowly or rapidly. I’m sure this derives from his familiarity with electronic music. 

Of course, clusters and cluster glissandos were a part of a genre of organ technique for at least 40 or 50 years by Bill’s time. That’s how theatre organists simulated the sound of a departing locomotive. And what theatre organist has not slid the palm of the hand up to one of those big major chords with an added sixth?!

 

Did you work with Bill in the electronic music studio? You mentioned Bill’s tapping on the back of a door to create a sound.

My involvement in the studio was simply to assist him. If a dial needed to be turned while he was occupied with starting or stopping a tape recorder, or vice versa, I helped by turning that dial perhaps to make a sound go up or down, or with manipulating that tape recorder. 

And, yes, the door to the electronic music studio in Hill Auditorium was hollow, and it had a nice sound when you rapped it with your knuckles, and, of course, the sound changed as you moved from the edge of the door. If you started at the very top and simply started tapping it rapidly as you moved down toward the center of the door, you could get a descending pitch of sorts. At least the timbre changed. So, we found if you recorded that tapping sound at 15 inches-per-second and then slowed it down to 7.5, instead of having something that went “tic, tic, tic,” it would go “tok… tok… tok… tok.” And then if you re-recorded that sound with a lot of reverberation at 15ips and dropped the result down to 7.5, instead of “tok… tok…tok” it would have become “boom…boom…boom… boom.” It was so mundane, but looking back on it now, it holds some very fond memories. 

 

In the 1960s, the electronic music medium seemed so far removed from traditional music making, but it’s worth remembering that these developments did not just come “out of the blue.” There were numerous earlier developments such as the Theremin, Ondes Martenot, and the Hammond organ. Charles Ives, Edgard Varèse, Henry Cowell, and other composers used sound blocks and clusters.

Using mechanical devices and whatever else was at hand has always appealed to composers. Bill was very fond of the American expatriate composer Conlon Nancarrow who lived in Mexico. Nancarrow found that he could compose for player piano, thereby vastly exceeding the capabilities of the human hand in what became sophisticated and complex music. Bill did meet Nancarrow on at least one occasion when he returned to the United States. Bill not only enjoyed the music itself but also admired the methodology by which the compositions were created, as they demonstrate the lengths to which composers are willing to go to follow an aesthetic arrow. 

 

Yes, Bill spoke enthusiastically about Nancarrow in one of his lectures. He played a recording of Nancarrow’s Study No. 21 (Canon X) and cited these very things: how fast Nancarrow could get the music to go and how complex he could make the rhythm.²⁴ He could have the effect of three or four different hands playing the piano totally independent of one another at different rates of speed.

Much of Underground Stream (Organbook III, 1978) has three different rhythmic layers going on at the same time. The second section of Bill’s De Spiritum, called Celestial Duel, ends with material gradually speeding up from a moderate tempo (quarter=72) to Vivo (quarter=160) and accelerates beyond that to “presto pos.” It sounds just like some of the fast passages in Nancarrow’s Studies for player piano. 

Nancarrow pushed tempo to the limits of the player piano by punching holes in paper sheets. Bill’s formidable keyboard technique allowed him to achieve similar effects on the organ. 

 

Can you talk about your film-making experience?

While we were roommates in 1964–65, we collaborated in making several 8mm films. As students, the possibility of having our own professional video camera was virtually zero. Since 16mm film was terrifically expensive, we resorted to using 8mm film, which was in our budget. One of our productions was good enough to win second prize in the first Ann Arbor 8mm Film Festival.

 

What was it about?

(chuckle) It was…to use that all too frequently abused word…an experimental film. Our main character was the composer, Robert Morris, who willingly did just about anything we asked of him including running up and down the stairwell of Burton Tower. At one point we were aiming the camera down the stairwell and filming at a slow speed. After the film was processed and running at normal speed, it appeared as though Bob was corkscrewing himself right into the ground. We sped up the camera; we slowed it down; we reversed the film; we photographed things in stop action. All the same things we were doing in the electronic music studio, we did with film. We knew that we could splice film together and cut it up in the same way that we did audio tape. So, we could introduce snippets of color with mostly black and white. We even hired some school children to do a small bit part. We asked them if they wanted to be in the movies, and they said, “Of course!” So, we gave them a dime apiece, and they acted for us (laughter).

 

What did you have them do?

I think we told them to stand at attention for a few seconds and then to look to their left, and then all run away…or something like that. Anyway, we pieced this thing together. We had heard there was a new Ann Arbor Film Festival that had an 8mm division, so as a lark, we put it into the Festival, and lo and behold, we won second prize. It was shown to great acclaim and applause that next night in a coffee house in Ann Arbor. We were very proud of ourselves, although it was a silly little thing. But it was fun.

 

Could you tell about your invention and how Bill helped you with that?

When it became necessary for me to establish a legal “date of conception” for a holographic storage system I had invented, Bill spent many hours looking at every single page in a bound notebook, then signing and dating that page. This was a very generous thing that he did for me. In the process of reaching a patentable stage, the inventor is obligated to write his ideas into a bound notebook in his own hand using indelible ink detailing every feature of the invention. Each page must be signed by the inventor and two witnesses, who must be sufficiently knowledgeable about the technology so they can sign every page of the book, “witnessed and understood by….” One person was an old friend of mine, an M.D. with enough technical prowess to understand the technology. The other person was Bill Albright, who did, indeed, sit there for several afternoons looking over all the written material including the detailed diagrams until he understood each page. He would quiz me about things, I would quiz him about his knowledge of it, and when he felt he was comfortable doing so, he signed off on that page, and then we went to the next page and the next page.

 

And the nice bottom line is that you actually got the patent (U.S. Patent 4,420,829—“Holographic System for the Storage of Audio, Video and Computer Data”). 

Yes! 

 

Ross Lee Finney was one of Bill’s major composition teachers.

I barely knew Finney. By the time I became a composition student, Leslie Bassett was the head of the department. But, I had occasion to be at Ross Lee Finney’s house when he invited me for a private conversation, which I understand he did from time to time with all the composition majors. He was a brilliant man and very generous with his time. He was very tough, but in a nice way. That is to say, he wanted the students to employ their talents to the very best of their ability. There was a professionalism about him. 

Finney’s contribution was not only as a teacher, but he was also able to get many other well-known composers to come to the university and donate their time to the task at hand of teaching and associating with the student composers, plus putting together ensembles for performance. He had many contacts throughout the musical world, which he could exploit in the best sense of the word, all for the benefit of his students. When he retired, Leslie Bassett, in his own way, did the same thing. 

 

Then Bill continued that tradition when he became the chair of the department…

…succeeding Bassett, that’s right. And then Bill was succeeded by William Bolcom. So, there’s been a long heritage of top-notch composition teachers.

 

Let’s talk a little bit about the fun, humorous aspect of Toccata Satanique and literary associations. Bill told me it really had nothing to do with Satan, and, in fact, the title may have been an attempt to poke fun at such “devilish” ideas. He also spoke about Poe, Hawthorne, and other 19th-century writers who sometimes dealt with such subjects, and, of course, we have Tartini’s famous “Devil’s Trill” sonata and numerous pieces by Liszt and Berlioz. 

In the notes to his recording of the piece, he writes that Toccata Satanique “is a matinee performance by the devil at the console, an attempt to exorcise those fiendish virtuoso toccatas of Mulet, Widor, et al;…” Bill had a rapier wit. People who knew him well enjoyed his joking, his fun with words, his double-entendres, everything in the bag of tricks of people who enjoy interacting with others in a social environment when everyone is enjoying each other’s familiarities with certain literary things, musical gestures, artistic relationships, and whatnot. Some religious connotations and associations can have a humorous aspect to them, and so church musicians and the organ can be part of that basket of topics as well.

One must be careful not to read in too much into a title. Actually the real purpose of a title might simply be to distinguish one piece from another when you’re talking with someone on the telephone. Sometimes, it doesn’t really get much beyond that. 

 

However, notes and comments on sketches for Night Procession and the Whistler Nocturnes suggest that in some cases Bill may have been thinking of titles right along with the musical concepts.

It’s possible that the title gave to the piece its nucleus, that is, the title might have to do with the style of the piece or it might be reminiscent of a certain performer whom he was trying to emulate. 

 

You performed several of Bill’s organ pieces. Did he have suggestions for you?

Bill coached me on the performance of Melisma. As usual, I was practicing it slowly at first and gradually picking up the tempo. Bill said, “You know that first little group of notes…you shouldn’t be able to hear the individual notes…it’s just baroop.” It’s a glissando. You have to do that fast! I can see him in the old electronic music studio with his hand on the dial of the signal generator and here’s a sine wave coming from the speakers, and he’d be twiddling the dial, making the sound barooarooaroo go up and down. (See Example 6.)

 

…which is like the beginning of Melisma…

Yes, but you can’t be playing the thing da-da-da-da-da-….It has to go so fast that it’s just a blur.

 

And with a traditional chromatic fingering, you can’t get it fast enough. So instead of (L.H.) 2-1-3-1-3, you use consecutive fingers 5-4-3-2-1 with a quick flick of the wrist.

I got the impression that Bill really wanted that thing to be at full bore velocity. Of course, you’re dealing with a person who is a virtuoso performer of great stamina. After all, he could keep up very well with those friends he’d invite over and with whom he’d play ragtime music all night long. You know, there were the legendary “cutting contests” [ragtime playing competitions] of the early ragtime pianists, and some of those fellows were still around, some who emulated that culture, so sheer speed and endurance was something Bill expected. Perhaps in his later years he modified that a little.

 

The question of tempo is a perennial one. When I performed Four Fancies (for harpsichord, 1979) and Symphony (for organ, 1986) he told me not to worry too much about tempo, that the most important thing was good rhythm. He commented specifically on honoring the complex rhythms in the second movement of the harpsichord piece, Mirror Bagatelle. Another time he wanted me to play much faster. When he narrated 1732: In Memoriam Johannes Albrecht (1984), he pushed me to the limit on several sections where he wanted it faster. “Let ’er rip!” he said.

I am reminded there are certain times in our musical past when new standards of velocity were set. I recently read a biography of the pianist Art Tatum who had extraordinary facility. As a young teenager, Oscar Peterson, another famous jazz pianist, thought he had arrived in terms of his technical prowess. He was told that by all of his relatives! Why shouldn’t he believe it? Oscar’s father brought home a record of Art Tatum and played it without telling Oscar anything about it. When it was all done, he asked his son, “Well, what ’ya think of that?” And Oscar said, “Boy, those guys are good!” And his father said, “Oscar, that’s only one man playing.” When Oscar realized his father was telling the truth, he said, “I didn’t go near a piano for three months.” 

When a standard like that is set, it forces people to do more than they think they can. You find that, yes, you can do it. Bill’s fingers weren’t built any differently than anybody else’s. With practice, you can achieve those velocities that he was looking for.

 

Thank you, John.

Thank you. It’s been a pleasure talking about an old friend and colleague and his music. 

What do organists really know about organbuilders?

David Lowry

David Lowry, DMA, HonRSCM, is Professor Emeritus of Music at Winthrop University, Rock Hill, South Carolina, and the Parish Musician of the Church of the Good Shepherd, Columbia, South Carolina. 

The American Institute of Organbuilders held its 40th annual convention October 6–9, 2013, in Winston-Salem, North Carolina. The AIO is an educational organization dedicated to advancing the art of organ building “by discussion, inquiry, research, experiment, and other means.” AIO members are professional organbuilders, service technicians, and suppliers who subscribe to the institute’s objectives and its Code of Ethics. There are over 400 members. 

Begun in 1973, the AIO continues as a vital organization with a fine board of directors, a quarterly journal, and a consistent pattern of annual conventions. The AIO awards certificates for Service, for Colleague, and for Fellow, based on tests of knowledge and understanding of organ building, similar to the AGO certifications for organ playing. 

At this 40th convention, there were some 180 registrants, including 110 members. About 80 elected to stay for a post-convention trip to Durham and Raleigh. There were 21 exhibitors, five of whom were from outside the United States.

Many organists in church and/or education positions inevitably know a few pipe organ service people, some of whom are actually builders of pipe organs. Many become friends and are often of great value to organists, who must defend their instruments by educating their congregations and colleagues on why an organ has to be “fixed” and why it “costs so much.” 

A few organists actually become adept at making a quick and safe fix to a problem without calling the organbuilder or maintenance people. Some higher-education institutions actually offer a course in how to take care of that one trumpet pipe that is out of tune before an important liturgy, or how to pull a pipe safely if it is ciphering, among a host of other little maladies. At the same time, plenty of service people can tell you horror stories of organists mutilating pipes with duct tape or bending them hopelessly out of shape. 

When organists gather in conventions, the focus is almost always on performances of music, plus workshops on everything from fingering to phrasing, or the intrepid pursuit of performance practice, or the history and analysis of music. 

How many organists know what organbuilders regard as important in their conventions? The difference in the two types of conventions—organists vs. organbuilders—is remarkable and encouraging. Despite feeling somewhat like a spy, this writer received a formal invitation to observe the 40th anniversary activities and report them to the organ-playing world. (I once enjoyed being an employee of an organ-building firm when I was a senior in high school. I learned to solder cable wires to junction boards, tune pipes, releather pouches, deal with Pilcher chests, and meet the famous consultant William Harrison Barnes! That did not make me an organ builder, but at least I understood some basics. All that was long before the computer chip.) The AIO may well be responsible for making “organbuilder” a single word. 

The 40th annual convention took advantage of some remarkable historic venues in central North Carolina, in addition to superb hotel accommodations with fine facilities for meetings, exhibits, and food. What is immediately obvious is that an AIO convention is not about organ playing. Little music is heard. When visiting organs, members listen to brief sounds of individual stops. They also sing a hymn during each organ inspection.

There were some pre-convention activities in Winston-Salem. On Saturday, some members visited the 1918 Æolian Company Opus 1404 in the Reynolda House; the organ’s restoration, by Norman Ryan and Richard Houghten, is in progress. On Sunday there was a visit to the organ shop of John Farmer, followed by choral Evensong at St. Paul’s Episcopal Church with its four-manual, 50-stop Skinner organ, Opus 712, 1928, restored by A. Thompson-Allen Company. In the chapel at St. Paul’s is the two-manual, 17-stop, 2004 C. B. Fisk Opus 131, built in collaboration with Schreiner Pipe Organs, Ltd., Opus 8. That visit included looking at Fisk’s borrow actions. The pedal department of this organ has just one pedal stop and five borrowed voices from the Great manual. 

On Monday and Wednesday there were a total of eight lectures in the hotel lecture room.

 

Scott R. Riedel & Associates

“Working with a Consultant”

Scott Riedel discussed issues in dealing with church committees—from the tensions of committees saying “too much money for music,” “fear of fundraising,” “most people go to the contemporary service and never hear the organ [not true, they go to weddings and funerals]”—to the matters of contacting builders and reviewing how to achieve the best builder for the situation. 

 

Schreiner Pipe Organs, Ltd. 

“Pedal Borrows on Mechanical Actions”

For those committed to mechanical action, John Schreiner supplied video details on how to design borrowing manual stops to be played in the pedals: “Either/Or” is one way; “And” is the other way. Those deeply engaged in mechanical-action organs found
Schreiner’s acumen most valuable.

 

Joseph Rotella

“Saving Green by Going Green”

Joe Rotella of Spencer Organ Company, Inc., has great interest in keeping green, thereby saving “green” money. He explored energy conservation including government subsidies, electricity, vehicles, energy audits, waste and toxicity reduction, as well as personal health, gardening, and thinking “local first.” His logo signifying “Reduce, Reuse, Recycle” is a powerful consideration for all builders. 

 

Charles Kegg of Kegg Pipe Organ Builders, and C. Joseph Nichols of Nichols & Simpson, Inc.

“When the Client Asks . . .” 

In response to the question “How many here have employed electronic sounds in your organs?” numerous hands were in the air. (As the English language changes, the use of “digital” and “electronic” is still in flux.) One of the two panelists of the discussion agreed to use electronic sounds for the bottom 12 notes of a 32′ stop; the other agreed to be judicious about electronic stops, but “the organ needs to still be an organ when you pull the plug.” The discussion was unquestionably a sensitive one across the room, and it remained frank, polite, and quite ethical. 

A curious question sparked more commentary: for electronic sounds that are sampled, is there a warranty question about who owns the sound? The electronic-sound issue remains a very serious and sensitive question among organbuilders, for which there will be no immediate answer.

 

David Pillsbury

“Hearing Protection”

The guest lecturer was David Pillsbury, retired director of audiology and speech pathology, Wake Forest Baptist Hospital. Organ technicians must be able to hear critical things in the way an individual pipe sounds, and how they relate to each other within a rank—whether tuning or voicing. The discussion included video examples on how the ear is constructed, plus important cautions on protection, and information on the various products that provide protection. 

 

Bryan Timm and Randy Wagner, Organ Supply Industries

“Scales and Why We Use What We Do”

Timm and Wagner provided a scholarly paper on “Scales and Why We Use Them, or, Starting with Grandma’s Meatloaf,” a fine academic analysis of how the modern organ industry has come to use the measurements of pipes, or just as importantly, how we alter those measurements. They promised to continue in the future to present the obvious next chapter: how pipe mouth dimensions are measured and employed. 

 

John Dixon

“Portable Technology for Business”

John Dixon is a representative from ComputerTree, Inc. of Winston-Salem and Atlanta, a technology professional services corporation. He reviewed a surprising amount of information about the advantages of digital communication that lightens the load of toolboxes and contributes to meeting needs while on the job and/or maintaining the business aspects of organ technology. 

 

Greg Williams

“Wood Finishing Techniques” 

Greg Williams, a private consultant to the wood finishing and refinishing industry, presented a two-hour lecture on waterborne (not water-based) wood finishing products and detailed procedures in wood products, for organs that include pipes, cases, façades, and consoles. The discussion included the production of new wood parts as well as the frequent need for touch-up techniques when rebuilding or restoring organs. 

A visit to Old Salem

On Tuesday, a short bus trip to Old Salem began in the Old Salem Visitors’ Center, a pleasant 2003 building in which an auditorium houses the 1800 David Tannenberg organ, restored by Taylor & Boody in 2003. John Boody, making use of excellent videos, talked about the restoration. Boody was most articulate and engaging in this fascinating project. 

He was followed by Lou Carol Fix, who read from her publication, “The Organ in Moravian Church Music,” outlining the significant influence the Moravians had in helping establish the use of the organ in Moravian worship. Following was a Singstunde (a Moravian Song Service), for which Fix played the 1800 Tannenberg as AIO registrants sang several hymns. 

Free time walking around Old Salem allowed the AIO into the Single Brothers’ House, where Scott Carpenter demonstrated the David Tannenberg 1789 one-manual and pedal, five-stop organ, restored by Taylor & Boody in 2007. Then in the Single Sisters’ House, Susan Bates demonstrated the Henry Erben 1830 one-manual, five-stop organ, restored by Taylor & Boody in 2008. 

Finally, we visited Home Moravian Church, where the 1800 Tannenberg was once housed, to hear the 3-manual, 43-stop, 1959 Aeolian-Skinner Opus 1340, with commentary by John Farmer. 

Some readers of this report who know Old Salem are aware there is a fine 1965 Flentrop organ in Salem College. The convention could not book the space because the Flentrop firm was contracted to be revoicing the instrument. As it happened, the work had been completed just before the convention, but the schedules could not be changed for the AIO to hear it. 

 

St. Timothy’s Episcopal Church

Our fascinating visit to this fine modern building with a remarkably warm, resonant acoustic found the restored 1898 Hook & Hastings Opus 1801 (three manuals, 34 stops) being installed in the west gallery by John Farmer of J. Allen Farmer, Inc. The late director of the Organ Clearing House, Alan Laufman, brought this organ to the attention of Farmer, a member of St. Timothy’s Episcopal Church. Farmer removed it from a church in Massachusetts where it had been dormant for decades and was about to be destroyed along with the building. Farmer stored the organ in his home. Progress was slow—another decade—before the church embraced the concept of restoring the organ in St. Timothy’s. Despite not hearing an organ, the AIO sang a hymn anyway to enjoy the wonderful acoustic. This promises to be a remarkable installation, with completion perhaps by Easter 2014.

 

University of North Carolina School of the Arts

An optional jaunt over to the School of the Arts drew only a few registrants to hear the 1977 C. B. Fisk Opus 75 in a concert by four students and their professor, Timothy Olsen. The students came back early from their fall break to play on this notably aggressive Fisk. It was striking to think of the positive future of the organ world with such well-prepared talent. Performers were: high school junior Raymond Hawkins, undergraduates Pat Crowe and Christopher Engel, and graduate student Daniel Johnson. 

 

Post-convention trip to Durham and Raleigh

On Thursday, the first stop, an hour-and-a-half away, was on Chapel Drive at Duke University in Durham, North Carolina, where the Duke Chapel remains one of our nation’s most thrilling architectural sights. There were four organs to inspect—count them—four. 

First was the recent organ by Richards, Fowkes & Co. Bruce Fowkes talked about the instrument and the space it is in, the Goodson Chapel of the Duke Divinity School, a remarkably fine room with a superb acoustic. Also on hand for the demonstration of the four organs were no less than Andrew Pester and Dongho Lee (they are husband and wife), who provided excellent contributions from the four consoles. 

Next was the two-manual, 21-stop, 1997 John Brombaugh Opus 34 in the small chapel, entered from the north transept of the chapel. The bottom manual is of Renaissance Italian design, and the second manual is Germanic, all in meantone temperament. 

The third demonstration was on the famous four-manual, 66-stop, 1976 organ by Flentrop Orgelbouw standing proudly in the gallery at the west end of the chapel. The chapel itself was built with the infamous Guastavino sound-absorbing tile that, at Flentrop’s suggestion, was sealed with a silicone sealant. Thanks to that, the chapel indeed sounds the way it looks: idyllic. 

The fourth event was the long-awaited hearing of the 1932 Æolian Company organ, Opus 1785, restored in 2008 by Foley-Baker, Inc. (See “Cover feature,” The Diapason, April 2012, pp. 25–27.) The organ has a new four-manual console to control the 6,600 pipes in five divisions, all in the chapel’s east end chancel. Once the demonstration of the stops was complete, Dongho Lee put the Dupré Prelude in B Major on the rack and thrilled the heck out of everyone. 

David Arcus, who for some 30 years was Chapel Organist and Associate University Organist, left Duke University at the end of 2013. Dr. Arcus was not present for the AIO visit as he was playing a recital elsewhere.

The final part of the post-convention activity was a visit to three recent organs in nearby Raleigh. 

The first stop was the Church of the Nativity, where the 2007 Andover Organ Company, Opus 115, two manuals, twenty stops (eight prepared), was demonstrated in the small worship space. 

Our second stop was at St. Michael’s Episcopal Church, where Kevin Kerstetter proudly demonstrated the three-manual, 47-stop 2012 Nichols & Simpson, Inc. organ. 

The last visit was to the Hayes Barton United Methodist Church, where the 2010 three-manual, 43-stop Buzard Pipe Organ Builders Opus 39 is installed. The demonstration and singing of a hymn was led by no less than the builder’s son, Stephen Buzard, assistant organist of St. Thomas Church Fifth Avenue in New York City. Following that, Stephen Buzard rendered a stunning performance of Edward Elgar’s Sonata in G Major, op. 28, featuring the organ’s symphonic character. 

That the AIO is 40 years old and clearly a valuable asset to the organ building industry calls for celebrating this milestone. Matthew Bellocchio of the Andover Organ Company and AIO President steered the banquet festivities with great sensitivity. His faith in convention chairman Stephen Spake, of the Lincoln Pipe Organ Company, was a mark of genius. Spake carefully and lovingly steered all the matters of keeping the convention on schedule, counting heads on buses, handling Q & A sessions with a portable microphone, and constantly remaining calm, contributing to a successfully run convention. He also played an important role in the planning committee. 

One might wish that the AIO would approach matters of the performance of organ literature more seriously, but then when one thinks what organists really want to know about pipe metals, leather, how pipes are measured, etc., the argument becomes nebulous. The two professions are individual art forms with totally different schools of knowledge required. The goal is for the two to meet in agreement of making sounds that convert souls and enhance the artistic excellence that humans are capable of creating. ν

Photo credit: Harry Martenas