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56th OHS National Convention

June 27-July 2, 2011, Washington, D.C.

Frank Rippl

Frank Rippl holds a BM degree from Lawrence University in Appleton, Wisconsin, where he was a student of Miriam Clapp Duncan and Wolfgang Rübsam, and an MA degree from the University of Denver. He has been organist/choirmaster at All Saints Episcopal Church in Appleton since 1971, is co-founder of the Appleton Boychoir, and coordinator of the Lunchtime Organ Recital Series. Photos by Len Levasseur

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In the immortal words of Charles  Dickens, “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.” Now, please don’t be alarmed by those words, because the convention itself was really wonderful: terrific organs, organists, many and varied venues displaying the remarkable depth available in and around our nation’s capital—from the National Cathedral to a former convent chapel. The hotel, the food, the displays and the well-researched Atlas were just fine and highly commendable.

The only bad thing, that “worst of times,” which nearly brought the convention to its knees, was an inept bus situation that seemed to conspire against us each day by being hours late, not showing up at all, sending buses with not enough seats, or by being utterly confused as to how to get from point A to point B. It was frustrating, and many an oath was uttered. But we still had a good time in spite of the craziness. Because of the buses, I did miss one of the recitals on the last day, and I truly apologize to the performer. But enough of that. Let’s get on to the good things and the music!

The convention headquarters was at the Holiday Inn at Reagan National Airport—not far from Crystal City and Old Town Alexandria, and near the Pentagon. Coming in for a landing at Reagan Airport gives one a stunning view of the National Mall with the Capitol, the White House, and all the famous monuments. But, for organists, it is probably the sight of the National Cathedral that causes the heart to skip a beat or two. Checking in at the hotel, greeting old friends, and visiting the displays are familiar rituals of these conventions. It made it all seem very comfortable.

 

Opening event 

The first event of the convention was the recital that Monday night at the National Cathedral by Nathan Laube. The buses were hopelessly late with inadequate seating, so some of us jumped into cars and raced across town to the cathedral, which stands on the city’s highest hill, Mount St. Alban, making it easy to find. It never fails to impress. I sat in the Great Choir just in front of the console and enjoyed the view in this massive Gothic church. I was surrounded by pipes on three sides. Cathedral organist Scott Dettra greeted us and introduced the performer. Laube began with Cathedrals from Vierne’s Pièces de Fantaisie, op. 55, no. 4. He plumbed the depths of the huge stone space and the massive
E. M. Skinner foundation stops in a wonderful piece well suited to the occasion. Next was Pierre Cochereau’s Berceuse à la mémoire de Louis Vierne, transcribed by Frédéric Blanc. Like the first piece, it moved through the vast room at a majestic pace—quietly at first, then bringing in the gorgeous Skinner strings. Laube slowly added the reeds, culminating in a solo on the Tuba Mirabilis. He pulled back to the strings, along with what I believe was an 8 flute and a nazard in the right hand, and clarinet in the pedal. It was a brilliant demonstration of this organ’s huge range of orchestral color.

Laube then explored the neo-classic sounds of this instrument with Two Fantasies by Jehan Alain. He closed the first half of the program with a wild, neo-classic-style piece Dupré wrote in memory of his father—a Tutti that was astonishing in its power. Following intermission he offered salutes to two gentlemen associated with this cathedral: Leo Sowerby and Richard Wayne Dirksen. Sowerby’s Requiescat in Pace used the “subtle colors” of Skinner’s “Sowerby Swell”—lovely strings, solo stops, and chimes. The hymn was Rejoice, ye pure in heart to the tune Vineyard Haven by Richard Wayne Dirksen. Our “Hosannas” made a joyous roar that matched the organ. 

Laube ended with his own transcription of Liszt’s Les Préludes. Great salvos of sound were hurled through the arches of the cathedral. The familiar melodies, both loud and soft, fell on our ears like the voices of old and dear friends. We heard the Trumpet-en-Chamade (which is mounted above the reredos) and the 32 Bombarde for the first time. At other times, the Harp “plucked” away. For an encore he played Messiaen’s L’Ascension: II – Alléluias sereins—a perfect end to a truly extraordinary recital.

 

Tuesday, June 28, 2011

The first full day of the convention dawned bright and sunny with an amazing blue sky, making the sight of our first stop in Alexandria, Virginia, even more outstanding than it might have been. Standing atop Shuter’s Hill was the George Washington Masonic Memorial—a massive, tall, white stone structure, designed to resemble the ancient lighthouse of Alexandria, Egypt. The tower, completed in 1932, is capped with a pyramid. Inside was a great semi-circular hall lined with columns behind amphitheater-style seating. A large portrait of George Washington, dressed in his Masonic apron, hangs at the back of the stage. The three-manual Möller, Opus 8540 from 1953, was designed by Ernest White and Richard O. Whitelegg. The Atlas stated that White’s contribution was a Choir division with independent mutations and a Cromorne. The console was on the floor and against the stage, while the pipes were in the ceiling, speaking through an elaborate Art Deco grille.

Charles Miller, organist at National City Christian Church in Washington, D.C., opened with Marche aux Flambeaux by Frederick Scotson Clark, complete with trumpet fanfares. Next came Introduction and Fugue in D Minor by John Zundel. The introduction had alternating ff and mp sections, and the fugue moved along with zeal. I was struck by this organ’s strong bass sounds. Then Sowerby’s Chorale Prelude on Picardy showed off the softer side of this organ, especially the lovely Möller strings and flutes, and a rather thin Cromorne. 

Miller then played Mendelssohn’s Sonata II in C Minor. He drew dark and ponderous sounds for the Grave section, and the Adagio featured many opportunities for solo stops. The Allegro maestoso was brought off with just the right amount of style, as was the fugue. Dudley Buck’s Scherzo (from the Grand Sonata in E-flat) worked very well on this organ, as did Buck’s Variations on the Star Spangled Banner. The hymn was O Beautiful for Spacious Skies, a very moving song to sing in our nation’s capital. 

We were divided into two groups because the next venues were small. My group went to Holy Trinity Episcopal Church in Collington, Maryland, where we heard Phillip L. Stimmel, an authority on Estey organs, play an Estey: Opus 655 (1908), two manuals, eight ranks, with tubular-pneumatic action. The Praeludium in A Minor by Clarence Eddy was a nice demonstration of the warm foundation stops. Ballade in D Minor by Joseph Clokey began on the Swell Stopped Diapason plus tremolo, with alternating passages on a particularly sweet Great Dulciana. An agreeable solo on the Swell reedless Oboe preceded a buildup to full organ; it then came back down to the opening sounds. In Beach’s Prelude on an Old Folk Tune, “The Fair Hills Of Eire, O,” Stimmel explored all the colors and registrations of this eight-rank organ, making it seem like a much larger instrument. Next was a favorite, Will o’ the Wisp by Gordon Balch Nevin. The hymn was O holy city, seen of John (Morning Song). Stimmel closed with Gardner Reed’s Once more, my soul, the rising day (Consolation, same tune as Morning Song), another good choice for this organ.

 

My group then went to St. Paul Moravian Church in Upper Marlboro, Maryland, to hear the church’s E. & G. G.
Hook & Hastings Opus 702 (1873), which has been enlarged and rebuilt by David M. Storey, Inc. between 1985 and 2010. Built for the temporary home of Trinity Episcopal Church in Boston, it was used until the present sanctuary was constructed. At some point it was moved down to the D.C. area. St. Paul’s first church was dedicated in 1972, and a second in 1985. The Hook organ was purchased in 1986. It sits in a transept of sorts to the right of the altar in this smallish modern red brick church, whose proud members welcomed us warmly.

Kevin Clemens, of Aberdeen, Maryland, opened with Tone Poem in F, op. 22, no. 1, by Niels Gade. Next was Arioso in the Ancient Style by James H. Rogers, which used the Oboe with tremolo. Then came Caprice by Cuthbert Harris, charming and well played, and Elevation from Messe Basse by Louis Vierne, in which we heard the rather nice Celeste, which was actually the former Great Dulciana. Next, The Cuckoo (Scherzino) by Powell Weaver, which featured the Oboe and the Melodia. The hymn was Sing praise to God who reigns above (Mit Freuden Zart). We were asked to sing harmony on the middle verse, but alas, our printed harmony was not what was played; we sang out with gusto, nonetheless. Clemens closed his program with Sousa’s Liberty Bell March

 

The next stop was St. John’s Episcopal Church, Broad Creek, King George Parish, Fort Washington, Maryland to hear Peter Crisafulli play the beautiful little Jacob Hilbus organ from 1819. Hilbus, born in Westphalia, Germany, was the first organbuilder in Washington. I would encourage the reader to see Michael Friesen’s excellent article in this convention’s Atlas on Hilbus’s work, and on this particular organ, as well as the fine article by convention chair Carl Schwartz. It is a lovely instrument to behold, with delicately carved pipe shades, one manual and no pedal. The sound was sweet and gentle. Crisafulli began with General Washington’s March by an anonymous composer. Cornet Voluntary by John Travers followed. We heard the Principal 4 (played an octave lower) for the first time. Crisafulli is also an excellent composer, as we heard in his next selection: Greensleeves (from In Sweet Jubilee—A Suite of Carols for Harpsichord), played on the lovely 8 Stopped Diapason. He next played Adagio by Mozart on the Flute 4′, which alternated with the exquisitely soft Dulciana Treble. We then heard the first Samuel Sebastian Wesley works of the convention: Choral Song—elegant, graceful music—followed by the livelier Prelude and Fugue. I enjoyed his adding the Sesquialtera in the fugue, giving a bit of bite. The hymn was From all that dwell below the skies (Old 100th). A wonderful recital on a beautiful and very historic instrument—Crisafulli did a masterful job demonstrating its many charms!

Late in the afternoon, we arrived at the Old Presbyterian Meeting House in Alexandria, Virginia, for a recital by Samuel Baker, director of the D.C. AGO Foundation. The 1849 one-manual (no pedal) Henry Erben organ stands at the front of the church behind the pulpit. In the Voluntary by William Croft, the 8 Open Diapason alternated with a bright solo combination. Next, Festival Overture from Cutler & Johnson’s American Church Organ Voluntaries (1856). The hymn was As with gladness men of old (Dix), followed by David Dahl’s Variations on the Hymn Tune Dix. We heard a clear 4 flute, flutes 8 and 2, a lovely Dulciana, a jaunty 8 and 4, and a fine Trumpet 8. Stephen Schnurr presented the church with an OHS Historic Citation to encourage the preservation of this very good organ. Baker then went to this church’s other organ, which stood in the rear gallery: a Lively-Fulcher (1997) of two manuals and pedal, with mechanical key action and electric stop action. He performed Gerre Hancock’s beautiful Air (1963)—lovely sounds played with great feeling. The program ended with another hymn: Ye watchers and ye holy ones (Lasst uns Erfreuen).

The evening concert took place at Capitol Hill United Methodist Church. The building is modern in style, tall and narrow with red brick walls. It stands on the site of the birthplace of J. Edgar Hoover—the large “west end” window commemorates that historic fact. The organ, a large and sumptuous 1936 Möller, was built for Covenant-First Presbyterian Church, which later became the National Presbyterian Church. David Storey is the hero in the restoration of this priceless gem, once considered old fashioned. The organ originally had been voiced by Richard O. Whitelegg, who came to Möller from England, where he worked for Harrison & Harrison, August Gern, and Henry Willis. The Atlas states that he voiced the powerful flue stops for the Liverpool Cathedral organ. 

The organ is in the front of the church, with chambers on either side of the chancel and a smaller chamber in the left wall of the nave for the solo division. The walls of the brick nave are windowless at the clerestory level, but a large window in back has the image of the risen Christ in chunks of colored glass embedded in concrete. 

Ken Cowan began his recital with Marche héroïque by Herbert Brewer. A gutsy opening gave way to a majestic and expansive tune; at the close, the melody was played on full organ. The Soul of the Lake, op. 96, no. 1 (Pastels from the Lake of Constance) by Karg-Elert followed—a marvelously impressionistic piece, deliciously played. Next came a thundering reading of Mozart’s Fantasia in F Minor, K. 608. The hymn was Songs of thankfulness and praise (Salzburg). Cowan leads and supports in perfect proportion—ever aware of the text, the music, and the singers. The first half closed with Prelude to Act III, Parsifal, by Wagner in an arrangement by Frederic Archer. The Solo division’s French Horn stop got a workout. Cowan is a master colorist.

The second half opened with Henry Martin’s Prelude and Fugue in B Minor, a piece commissioned by Michael Barone. This was fairly tempestuous music. The fugue began in the pedal and quoted the theme of the prelude. Next was Schumann’s Canon in B Minor, Canon in A-flat Major, and Fugue on B-A-C-H. We heard the variety of reed and foundation tone on this fine organ. I especially enjoyed the A-flat Major, the end of which employed the large Tromba 8 on the Solo, and then pulled back to the lovely Swell strings. 

We then heard Cowan’s transcription of Danse macabre by Saint-Saëns. The whole church seemed to sway back and forth to this wonderful music. Cowan made good use of the percussion on the organ: Chimes, Harp, and Celesta. He closed with Dupré’s Deux Esquisses, op. 41—totally virtuosic and muscular playing. He treated us to an encore: Roulade by Seth Bingham, a perfect bonbon to follow a concert that was like an incredibly rich and hearty meal.

 

Wednesday, June 29

We began the day on Capitol Hill at the towering St. Joseph R.C. Church, whose cornerstone was laid in 1868. It was intended to be used by the German-speaking Catholics of Washington, D.C., and architect Michael Stegmeier used his hometown’s cathedral (Cologne, Germany) as its model. The neo-gothic structure has a very high ceiling painted blue with gold stars. But the real gem for us was the magnificent three-manual, 29-rank Hook & Hastings organ, Opus 1491 from 1891. It has been restored/rebuilt many times, most recently by Bozeman-Gibson, Inc. in 1986. David Storey now tends to this highly regarded instrument.

George Bozeman Jr. entitled his program “Christmas in June.” He began with Reger’s Weihnachten, op. 145, no. 3, which began softly with the strings. The church’s air conditioning, though welcome, was terribly noisy, making much of the music nearly inaudible. The piece incorporated four different carols, ending with Stille Nacht. Bozeman played with a wonderful sense of feeling and sensitivity. Dudley Buck’s attractive Prelude (from The Coming of the King, Cantata for Advent and Christmas) incorporated “Silent Night” and “Adeste fideles.” The hymn was Adeste Fideles, which we sang powerfully in the resonant acoustic of this beautiful church.

Next was a wonderful Allegro by Katherine E. Lucke (1875–1962), which demonstrated the light and agile flute sounds of this fabulous organ. Bozeman closed with his own fine transcription of Four Fleeting Pieces, op. 15 by Clara Schumann. It was a good tour of the organ’s solo stops, and he played all very well; each musical line was beautifully shaped and controlled. We all enjoyed this recital and were quite smitten with this fantastic organ.

The second recital of the morning was at St. Martin of Tours R.C. Church, an attractive building completed in 1939 in the Florentine Renaissance style. A sign was tied between the two pillars on either side of the central door: WELCOME ALL SINNERS. I didn’t know what to make of that, but I certainly felt accommodated. The organ—Möller Opus 6809, three manuals, 22 ranks—stands in the rear gallery and speaks into a most favorable acoustic. There is reason to believe that Möller’s Richard O. Whitelegg worked on this organ. The Atlas states, “Most pipework was old and of unknown origin.” The Clarinet stop was terrific!

Carolyn Lamb Booth opened with a strong reading of Guilmant’s Grand Triumphal Chorus in A Major, op. 47, no. 2. The powerful sounds of this organ filled the space evenly; I liked the Trumpet. Next, Edward Bairstow’s Evening Song, registered perfectly. The hymn was “Christ, be our light.” Organ and organist led it convincingly. After that, the beautiful Elegy by George Thalben-Ball showed the many lovely solo stops and was nicely played. (I noted the Catholic Church in its current state of transition: the confessionals were used to store old kneelers.) The closing piece was Saint-Saëns’ Prelude and Fugue in E-Flat Major, op. 99, no. 3, perfectly suited to this fine organ and organist.

The final stop of the morning was at the lovely St. Gabriel’s R.C. Church in Washington, D.C., to hear its Lewis & Hitchcock, Opus 165 (1930) of two manuals and pedal, 21 ranks. It stands in a divided case on either side of the rear gallery of this English Tudor-style building, whose cornerstone was laid in 1930. We were greeted with the sound of bells—extra points! Upon entering, we encountered the smell of good incense—more extra points! Stephen J. Morris began his program with a hymn, Sing to God! Lift up your voices (Alchester). Robust OHS singing matched the organ very well in that great acoustic! 

Morris’s first selection was Mendelssohn’s War March of the Priests, which showed the strength of this organ’s sound as we enjoyed this cruciform church with its beautiful glass and elegant appointments. Next was Andante ‘Choeur de Voix humaines’, op. 122, no. 7, by Lefébure-Wély. The Great’s very beautiful Gross Flute made bubbly sounds against the Swell’s equally fine Vox Humana. Then Seth Bingham’s Rhythmic Trumpet (from Baroques, op. 41), followed by another character piece, The Squirrel by Powell Weaver—an entertaining bit of whimsey played with good humor. 

Next was Liszt, Introduction and Fugue (after Johann Sebastian Bach, from Cantata 21, Ich hatte viel Bekümmernis), played with broad authority and featuring the organ’s fine plenum. That was followed by a little composition that featured the Oboe: Allegretto in E-flat, op. 17, no. 2 by William Wolstenholme (1865–1931)—cute music. Then came the beautiful Claire de Lune from Karg-Elert’s Trois Impressions, op. 72—lovely music well chosen for organ, space, and audience. Morris played it exquisitely right down to the last ppp on the Aeoline. The recital ended with the March upon a Theme of Handel, op. 15, no. 2, by Guilmant. A fine performance and concert, which demonstrated the organ most admirably.

Following a box lunch, my group made its way to the Armed Forces Retirement Home, founded in 1851. It sits high on a hill overlooking the city of Washington. Abraham Lincoln spent a lot of time there escaping the heat of summer. The rolling grounds are extensive, tranquil, and very green with lots of trees and grass. The organ was in Stanley Hall, a facility built for recreation and entertainment, but now used a chapel. The organ, a two-manual and pedal instrument built by Stevens & Jewett (ca. 1855), is interesting for its 18-note pedalboard. The 16 Double Open Diapason has only 12 pipes. The Atlas states: “From second C the pedals simply repeat the pipes in the bottom octave.” The instrument was acquired through the Organ Clearing House, having come from the former Universalist Church in Mechanics Falls, Maine. David Moore did the restoration. 

Rosalind Mohnsen opened her program with Allegro moderato maestoso by Mendelssohn, which had a fine majestic march feel to it. Then came John Stanley’s Voluntary in A, op. 7, no. 1, Adagio—Allegro. The Adagio was played on the Great Open Diapason—a warm and widely scaled sound. The Allegro used some lovely softer but bright stops on the Swell. Next, Gavotte Pastorale by Frederick Shackley (1868–1937). The Swell alternated with the Great Diapasons, then some of the Swell 8 stops with tremolo—a good piece that showed some of the many colors of this organ. The hymn was, appropriately, Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord (Battle Hymn of the Republic). Mohnsen always chooses hymns and pieces with great care so that they are well suited to the instrument and place at hand. Her next selection was Abraham Lincoln’s Funeral March, op. 7 (1865), “In memory of a Country’s Martyred Father” by William Wolsieffer. Paul Marchesano hand pumped the organ. The piece showed more of the organ’s color, the fine reeds in particular. 

Next came Melodie (Homage to Grieg) by George Elbridge Whiting (1840–1923), which carefully demonstrated more solo stop combinations. Mohnsen closed with Marche militaire by Scotson Clark (1841–1883), a snappy number in which we heard more of the reeds. 

 

We next visited St. John’s Evangelical Lutheran Church, Riverdale, Maryland, which possesses a sweet little Jardine organ, originally built in 1853 as a one manual, and enlarged to two manuals in 1890. After several church “homes”, it had been purchased by OHS member Carolyn Fix, who sold it to St. John’s in 1988, and was rebuilt and enlarged by James Baird. It stands at the rear of this smallish cement block structure. Lawrence Young began with four selections from The Green Mountain Organ Book by Charles Callahan. In Prelude and Fugue we heard the lovely 8 foundation stops. Rondeau used Great 8 and 4 in the A section, while the B sections used the Swell 4 and 2 with shades closed. It ended with Procession, which closed quietly. The next selection was Mendelssohn’s Prelude and Fugue in G Major, op. 37, no. 2, which started on the Great 8 and 4 Principals. The fugue was solidly played. Following that, Young played Daniel Pinkham’s Be Thou My Vision: Partita on Slane, a good demonstration piece. We then sang the hymn on which the partita was based. It was all very enjoyable.

 

For the afternoon’s last recital, our buses climbed up the hill to the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception, Crypt Church, to hear the 1987 Schudi organ (two manuals, 23 stops, 25 ranks) built in the style of Gottfried Silbermann. The organ stands in a wide transept to the right of the altar.

Peter Latona, director of music at the shrine, began with Buxtehude’s Praeludium in F-sharp minor, BuxWV 146. In that acoustic, the effect was splendid; clean, clear sound, emanating from the polished tin pipes, filled the space. It was a superb performance, full of life, grace, and vigor. Then the Andante from Bach’s Trio Sonata IV, BWV 528, using an 8 flute on each manual and 16 and 8 flutes in the pedal—a warm and inviting sound. Next, O Gott, du frommer Gott, op. 122, no. 7, by Brahms, showed the rich 8 foundation stops. Then Latona played Joseph Jongen’s Petit Prelude, soloing out the tune on the Swell Schalmey, showing more of the romantic side of this organ. 

Then came a special treat: a series of improvisations creating a Suite on Rendez a Dieu. I. Trompette en taille; II. was the hymn itself, which we all sang; III. was a trio with the Cornet in the left hand; IV. was a Grand jeux complete with a duo in the middle. Very skillful improvisation founded securely in the French Baroque style. Latona made me wish that I lived in Washington, D.C. so I could hear him play every Sunday. 

Following a most tasty buffet dinner at the Pryzbyla Center, Catholic University of America, buses took us to Immaculate Conception Church in Washington, D.C. to hear Bruce Stevens play the evening recital on the church’s 1879 Steer & Turner organ, Opus 131 (two manuals, 25 stops). The church is a large sort of Tudor Gothic with tall windows. The program opened with Festive Prelude on the Chorale ‘Lobe den Herren’ by Niels Gade (1822–1890), which started with long chords and then led into a more “festive” reading of the melody going from manual to manual. That led to the hymn, Praise ye the Lord, the almighty (Lobe den Herren). Our “Let the Amen!” in that acoustic was something to hear!

Stevens then played Partita sopra Aria della Folia da Espagna by Bernardo Pasquini (1637–1710). I was amazed at how well this very 19th-century organ could sound in this music. Next, an Allegro by João de Sousa Carvalho (1745–1798).Then Bach’s Prelude and Fugue in A Minor, BWV 543. The fugue was especially fine—masterful and profoundly musical playing! We then heard George Shearing’s setting of Amazing Grace, which was not in the program. Next was Saturnus (from The Planets: Suite of Seven Pieces for Organ) by Bent Lorentzen (b. 1935); lots of repeated chords accompanying a melodic line—wild music! 

Stevens then closed this fine program with Rheinberger’s Sonata No. 9 in B-flat Minor, op. 142. I especially enjoyed the second movement, Romanze, which was a good demonstration of the exquisite flutes on this instrument, as well as the quiet foundation stops. Movement three, Fantasie und Finale–Fuga, showed the clarity of the plenum. This is a very fine organ. The Fantasie contained Buxtehude-like runs, and the very well-conceived Fuga was performed with clear and refined style that comes with a long association with this music. It was a glorious evening!

 

Thursday, June 30

Lorenz Maycher began this day for us on a nearly mint-condition E. M. Skinner, Opus 744, from 1928, at the Church of the Pilgrims (Presbyterian) in Washington, D.C. It has three manuals and about 30 stops and stands in the rear gallery divided on either side of the window. Maycher is a specialist with Skinner organs. He played an entire program of music by Richard Purvis, beginning with Toccata Festiva. It was exciting music and playing—the organ filling the space nicely. The hymn was There’s a wideness in God’s mercy (In Babilone). He then played the popular Melody in Mauve, which sounded wonderful on this beautiful organ. Next was another popular piece, Les Petites Cloches, which featured the chimes and harp. Then, Idyl, with the lovely Flute Celeste II accompanying the Concert Flute, followed by the Vox Humana. 

Repentance was the next piece and showed the softer foundation stops, followed by the strings and then the larger foundation stops; the Tutti came on, but the piece ended with the softest strings. Maycher ended this lovely program with Thanksgiving, which began with the Great Tuba blasting out a fanfare in dialogue with the Swell reeds. A quiet B section, featuring the Clarinet, led us back to the beginning. Wonderful music, brilliantly played on a gorgeous American organ! 

The next stop was Epiphany R.C. Church in Georgetown to enjoy its two-manual, 11-stop Hook & Hastings, Opus 1623. Built in 1894 for a music room in Boston, it eventually found its way to this small and charming church. David M. Storey Inc. restored the organ in 2003. It stands in the rear balcony, its pipes painted in warm yet bright colors. Convention chair Carl Schwartz described this organ brilliantly in the Atlas: “This musical instrument reveals its charms in subtle ways, much like a fine wine unfolding before the senses. As with most Hook & Hastings organs of this modest type, it proves to be far more than the sum of its parts.” 

Kimberly Hess opened with Buxtehude’s Toccata in F Major, BuxWV 157, which worked very well on this 1894 organ. The hymn was I sing the mighty power of God (Mozart). She then played no. X from 23 Préludes liturgiques by Gaston Litaize. We heard the beautiful and careful voicing of the smaller sounds on this lovely organ; each stop is satisfying in every way. Then C.P.E. Bach’s Sonata in D Major, Wq 70/5, which showed refined 8 and 4 sounds in the Allegro di molto. In the Adagio e mesto she used the Swell Stopped Diapason with tremolo to good effect. The Allegro was cheerful and bright with good dialogue between the manuals. Hess ended her fine concert with two selections from Arthur Foote’s Seven Pieces for Organ, op. 71. Cantilena in G featured a solo on the organ’s gorgeous Oboe. The melody was spun out for us with warmth and just the right amount of flexibility. Toccata moved well in the opening A section, coming to a restful B section. It finished big, using the sub and super couplers from the Swell. First-rate playing on a first-rate organ. 

The last stop of the morning was at the sprawling and beautiful Washington Hebrew Congregation, begun in 1856. The present building was completed in 1955. The organ, a large three-manual Aeolian-Skinner, Opus 1285, was installed in 1956. The organ stands in front of the room, although the pipes (and organist) are hidden. There is beautiful tone and balance within the divisions. Two well-known organists have served this congregation: German composer and scholar Herman Berlinski, and B. Michael Parrish, a student of Herbert Howells and George Thalben-Ball. Mr. Parrish began with very soft flute sounds in Sabbath Eve by Robert Starer (1924–2001). Next a piece by one of his teachers: George Thalben-Ball’s Elegy—a great piece that built to a fine roar. Then a piece by another of his teachers: Herbert Howells’s Master Tallis’s Testament, with a beautiful solo sound from the Choir. Next was a very moving In Memoriam by Herman Berlinski (played in memory of Sina G. Berlinski). That was followed by “Rosh Hashana” from Funf Fest-Preludien, op. 37, by Louis Lewandowski, and then the hymn The God of Abraham praise (Yigdal). A very beautiful and meaning-filled program.

We then made our way to Washington’s National City Christian Church, a building designed by John Russell Pope, who also designed the National Archives, the Jefferson Memorial, and the National Gallery—so one can imagine that it is indeed an imposing structure fronted with a huge sweeping staircase. It opened circa 1929. The first organ was by the Skinner Organ Company, Opus 824 (four manuals, 55 ranks). Like many of those grand old E. M. Skinner organs, it was deemed old fashioned by mid-century, and in the 1960s it began to be greatly enlarged by the Möller Company and others until it reached its present size of five manuals and 141 ranks, including a large Antiphonal division in the rear of the church. The main organ stands in the front of this basilica-like structure behind the apse and four huge granite columns—all of this in a building smaller than several of the larger Catholic churches we had visited. It is the third largest organ in the city, but it is in a building smaller, it seemed, than of one of the National Cathedral’s transepts. Perhaps E. M. had the right idea about proportion for the space. This is a very loud organ, and too big for the church.

The legendary and brilliant organist, composer, and teacher John Weaver gave a terrific program. He opened with Bach’s Wir glauben all an einen Gott, S. 680 (Clavierübung Part III). It was a bit of a shock to hear this Möller with its 1975-era mixtures after two and a half days of more subtle mixture sound. Next was Mozart’s Adagio and Allegro in F Minor, K 594. The Adagio was lovely, but the Allegro was a bit over the top with the power and aggressiveness of the registration choices. Weaver played it very well with good attention to detail, but it was just too loud. I found myself wondering if he had trouble judging the level of the sounds as the pipes spoke over the player’s head, sending all the sound into the nave. 

Then Karg-Elert’s Five Chorale Improvisations from opus 65. 1. Wie schön leuchtet der Morgenstern used the lovely strings and soft foundation stops. 2. O Gott, du frommer Gott used several levels of foundation tone. 3. Herr Jesu Christ, dich zu uns wend was quite loud and seemed to demand Christ’s presence among us—brilliant playing with a wild pedal part! 4. Herzlich lieb hab ich dich, o Herr—gorgeous music with a gentle echo after each phrase; we heard the famous Handbells stop on this organ—interesting, but I wasn’t crazy about them. 5. Nun danket alle Gott was the well-known piece often played at weddings. It was another case, however, of over-use of the loud sounds. This organ is simply too big for this room.

Next came one of Weaver’s own compositions, Carillon (2002), which used the Handbell stop. The bells were accompanied by gurgling flutes—very nice music. The hymn was Surely the Lord is in this place to the tune Madison Avenue by Weaver. He then played a piece he wrote based on his hymn tune Meyers Park, following by the singing of the hymn. Weaver closed with his famous Toccata for Organ (1958). It was very exciting, but, with this instrument, it was painfully loud. One longed for the old E. M. Skinner organ that first graced this church.

The bus caravan deposited us at the lovely All Souls Unitarian Church in Washington, D.C. The congregation traces itself back as far as 1815, but the present church, styled after St. Martin in the Fields, London, was built in 1923. The organ was built by Rieger in 1969, a tracker of four manuals, 60 registers, and 96 ranks. It was an important instrument in its time and attracted quite a bit of attention, with a Rückpositiv and an enclosed Brustwerk that has glass shades. It also was the first, it is said, to have computerized combination action with multiple memory levels. To our ears it sounds dated, but in its day I’m sure it was a revelation. There is still much to admire in this instrument. 

Eileen Morris Guenther opened with Bach’s Prelude and Fugue in C, BWV 547 (“the 9/8”). I would have liked to hear more articulation in the playing, which seemed rushed with many dropped passing tones. All the drama in that wonderful fugue was lost. Next, Prelude for the Organ in G Major by Fanny Hensel (née Mendelssohn-Bartholdy). The mid-20th century mixtures got in the way of an otherwise good performance. Then Robert Schumann’s Sketch in D-flat, which used the 8 foundations and flutes. Staying in the Schumann family, we heard Clara’s Prelude and Fugue for Organ, op. 16, no. 3, played very well. Two spirituals by Joe Utterback (b. 1944) followed: Swing Low, Sweet Chariot (blues for manuals) and Balm in Gilead. I enjoyed her fine performance of them, which showed the pretty soft string sounds. The hymn, a new setting of “A Mighty Fortress” by Emma Lou Diemer (Reformation), was not the easiest thing to sing. This was an instructive recital that showcased the transitional state of organ building midway through the last century.

The evening program was Solemn Evensong and Benediction of the Most Blessed Sacrament at St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, K Street in Washington. D.C. My bus got lost and we barely made it on time. Since all the pews were occupied, I got to sit in a row of chairs set up in front of the front pew—a great view of all the proceedings. The church was founded in 1866, but the present building dates from 1948. It is very traditional, with all the high church trimmings, great acoustics, and a four-manual Schoenstein & Co. organ of 52 voices and 65 ranks. The organ and choir are divided on either side of the chancel, and there is a Tuba Mirabilis mounted on the liturgical west end (the pipes stand vertically). The volunteer choir was superb in every way, led by director of music and organist Robert McCormick, and accompanied by assistant director of music John Bradford Bohl

The pre-service voluntary was Rhein-berger’s Introduction and Passacaglia from Sonata No. 8 in E Minor. It was marvelously played, but I could not tell by whom. The responsory was by Hancock, the preces were by Philip Radcliffe, and the psalms were sung to Anglican chants by Stanford and Thalben-Ball. The organ was perfect for the proper accompaniment of Anglican chant; amazing effects could be created by the swell boxes within swell boxes. Each line of the psalms was carefully prepared by the organist, and the choir sang with proper style and grace. 

The office hymn was All praise to thee, for thou, O King divine (Engelberg). Now, if you have never been to an OHS convention, the hymn singing is amazing. So it was with a certain amusement that I noted a few of the choir members looking out at us with widened eyes as if to say “Who are these people?” We fed each other as congregation, choir, and organ raised the song from our collective hearts to amazing heights—it was an unforgettable moment! The Magnificat and Nunc dimittis came from Evening Service No. 2 in E-flat Major by Charles Wood. It was a powerful sound—McCormick drew astonishing sounds from his forces. After the prayers, they sang the Salve Regina, and then one of my favorite anthems, Te Lucis ante terminum by Henry Balfour Gardiner. That was followed by Benediction. The closing voluntary was a stunning improvisation. It was an unforgettable evening, both musically and spiritually.

 

Friday, July 1

Our day began at the beautiful National Presbyterian Church in Washington, D.C. with a recital by that church’s organist, William Neil. The church was established in 1947, but has connections dating back to 1780. The present building was opened in 1969. The organ was one of the last Aeolian-Skinner organs, and has been altered many times since then. A Solo division was added in 2010 using several E. M. Skinner ranks. The organ has four manuals and seven divisions. It was featured at the AGO convention in 2010 in a concert by Nathan Laube. I was eager to hear the Skinner Solo division ranks, as they were not playing for that recital. Neil’s fine recital began with Mendelssohn’s Sonata in F Minor, op. 65, no. 1. In the first movement we heard the clear and never overwhelming plenum, with echos on an 8 reed. The beautiful Adagio showed the lovely strings along with several excellent solo stops including the French Horn. The Andante used the Antiphonal 8 and 4 flutes against a reed chorus on the main organ in front. The Antiphonal is at the back of the room, while the main organ is behind a screen on the front wall. The Allegro assai vivace burst forth with extraordinary energy and power. This was one of the most exciting performances I’ve ever heard of this piece. 

In Elgar’s Nimrod (from Enigma Variations, op. 36), the organ’s gorgeous and lush strings were on full display; the clear Clarinet uttered its plaintive cry. The marvelous crescendo began building seamlessly to full organ, then tumbled gently back down to a breathless ppp—it was brilliantly achieved. Next came J. S. Bach’s Passacaglia and Fugue in C Minor. Neil began on quiet flutes. His trills were flawless, and the calm pedal was unruffled by the increasingly busy manual parts. This was a fabulous performance of one of the great monuments of western civilization. My only criticism of this concert was that there was too much loud music. Our ears needed more variety. Stunning though this performance was, we had a long day ahead of us. The hymn was O Lord, You are my God and King (Jerusalem).

 

We made our way through the tree-lined streets of Washington, D.C. to St. Columba’s Episcopal Church in a quiet neighborhood. A handsome church, it looks as though it would be right at home in an English village. Built in 1926–1927, its first organ was a Lewis & Hitchcock that was replaced in 1981 by the present organ, a two-manual, 25-rank Flentrop that the company enlarged in 2003, adding three stops to the pedal. It stands majestically in the liturgical north transept. 

Mark Steinbach began with Philip Glass’s Mad Rush (1981), which worked well on this organ. Next, Bruhns’s Kleine Praeludium in E Minor, played freely and skillfully. This piece provides good opportunity to vary registration—a plus at an OHS convention. There were a few inner rhythmic patterns that were hurried, but he got the big overall shape of this piece quite nicely, and the organ was lovely. Then came Buxtehude’s chorale prelude on Nun komm’ der Heiden Heiland in a beautiful demonstration of the Hoodfwerk Cornet—played with wonderful sensitivity and flexibility. Keeping with that same chorale, the hymn was Savior of the nations, come. The organ held its own leading our vigorous singing—good playing!

My teacher in college, Miriam Clapp Duncan, was Anton Heiller’s second American student. So I was eager to hear the next piece, Nun Komm’ der Heiden Heiland—Eight Variations (1972), by Anton Heiller. (Steinbach has recorded a forthcoming CD of the music of Anton Heiller’s music.) He used the full range of this organ. I especially liked the Borstwerk 4 Roerfluit, which seemed to chirp. Steinbach closed with more Philip Glass: Satyagraha, Act III, Conclusion (1980). While it was interesting to hear, for me, at least, it soon wore out its welcome. He did build a fine crescendo. This is a very good organ, and Steinbach gave an excellent tour of it. 

The next organ was a major historic treat: a nearly intact three-manual Henry Erben organ from 1850—very rare, and very exciting for us OHS’ers. This was at Trinity United Methodist Church in McLean, Virginia. The congregation can trace its beginnings back to 1820. They built their present Georgian-style church in 1961. The organ was originally built for Monumental Episcopal Church in Richmond, Virginia. In 1926 they replaced it with a Skinner, keeping the Erben façade, which was silenced. The Erben pipes went to another church. James Baird managed to put the Erben back together between 1975 and 1997. It now stands rather proudly in the front of this sanctuary. Nearly all the pipework has been restored, with three rare Erben reed stops. The organ has a painted white case with gold trim. There are dentils adorning the tops of the towers. The capitals at the tops of the towers have carved flowers painted colorfully. The church created needlepoint kneelers using the case designs. Convention chair Carl Schwartz, in introducing the concert, called the organ “a national treasure.” 

Before the recital began, we had the annual meeting, which included the introduction of the four E. Power Biggs Fellows to this convention. The Fellows get an all-expense-paid trip to the convention. Many eventually become performers at subsequent conventions and go on to great success in the organ world. We also had a delightful preview of next summer’s convention in Chicago.

Kevin Birch began his program with Concerto in G Major, BWV 592 (after Ernst) by J. S. Bach. In the Allegro he used the Great 8 4 2 in alternation with the Swell. The second movement, Grave, used flutes 8 with tremolo, a beautiful sound. The Presto was played with secure rhythm and nicely shaped phrases. Next, William Boyce’s Voluntary I in D. The Larghetto featured the very attractive 8 Open Diapason; the Vivace featured the delicious Great Trumpet; I loved that sound—full bodied and true. Next, Muffat’s Aria sub elevazione (aria, three variations, aria), which worked quite well on this organ. Then, Mendelssohn’s Sonata No. 1 in F, op. 65. I especially enjoyed the fourth movement, when he added the thrilling 16 Trombone in the Pedal. It was all good, solid playing on a really fine and certainly historic instrument! 

The hymn was Ye servants of God (Hanover). Guilmant’s Prière et Berceuse followed the hymn, beginning on a very quiet string. The Berceuse began with a solo on the Oboe. It was a gorgeous call from the past that made one long for the many organs that are lost. Thanks be that this one has come down to us virtually intact. The piece ended with the sweet sound of the Swell Dulciana and tremolo. Birch ended this marvelous recital with Grand Choeur in G Major by Théodore Solomon. After a sturdy beginning, a fugue started, using 8 foundations and the Oboe, sounding very French. The Mixture came on with full organ, bringing the piece to an end—very good playing on a remarkably versatile organ!

And so we came to the final evening recital of the convention. Following a delicious meal at the American Indian Museum, we walked to St. Dominic’s R.C. Church, just a few blocks off the National Mall. It is a large gray granite church completed in 1875. It has seen several fires in its history. The church’s Hilborne Roosevelt Opus 290 dates from 1885: three manuals and 47 ranks. Originally a tracker, after various fires and rebuilds it is now on electro-pneumatic action. It enjoys a fantastic acoustic, is just the right size for the building, and stands in the rear gallery. 

Thomas Murray began with Rheinberger’s Sonata in G, op. 88, no. 3. The first part featured the fine plenum. Later we heard the beautiful Cornopean on the Swell. The closing movement was all fire and bravura. Then, Bossi’s Ave Maria, showing the lovely strings and flutes with tremolo, and Bossi’s Divertimento en forma de Giga—immaculate playing. Next, Guilmant’s Communion on Ecce panis angelorum on quiet 8 and 4 flutes, then the soft 8 foundations. Guilmant’s Caprice in B-flat was a nice contrasting bit of whimsey, with chords tossed out into the great nave of this church—a charming sense of fun. Then, Grand Choeur on “Benedicamus Domino” (1934) by Guy Weitz. The Great and Swell reeds called back and forth. A fugue followed on the very good plenum—all very lively and yet grand. The hymn was There’s a wideness in God’s mercy (Blaenwern). 

Following intermission, Murray played Alfred Hollins’s Concert Overture in C Minor (1899). Bold, strong, and large chords were flung through the nave. The Swell reeds had a solo or two before returning to the Great. The piece gave voice to several solo stops and a fugue before returning to the opening material. Liszt’s Epilogue (from Années de Pèlerinage, Suisse) worked very well on the organ. Murray closed with Dupré’s Prelude and Fugue in G Minor, op. 7, no. 3, which made one want to get up and dance. It was a brilliant performance! 

 

Saturday, July 2

This was an “extra” day, with just three recitals. About half the convention attendees chose to go home following the Friday night recital. A few elected to stay, wanting to hear the Pomplitz organ that was on the schedule. However, the buses confounded our best intentions. The company only sent one bus, but we needed two. We all lined up in the usual manner behind the hotel. The first ones in line got on that bus. The rest of us waited for nearly two hours. It really was frustrating. But finally one came after several frantic phone calls. We missed the recital at St. Patrick’s in the City R.C. Church with its large three-manual 1994 Lively-Fulcher organ built in a French manner. The recitalist was Ronald Stolk. My apologies to all concerned that I was unable to review that recital. 

We did get to hear the August Pomplitz organ, No. 140, built in 1869 for Grace Episcopal Church in Alexandria. The organ was believed to have come to St. Vincent de Paul R.C. Church in Washington, D.C. about 1905—two manuals, 16 ranks with mechanical key and stop action. Carl Schwartz called it “a lovely instrument and a survivor.” It stands in the rear gallery of this little church. Philip T.D. Cooper started with Voluntary VII in G Major (from Ten Organ Voluntaries, op. 6) by John Stanley. Next, Flute Piece in F by William Hine. The flutes on this organ possess a rare beauty. Cooper handled the sounds with deftness and clarity. In Voluntary in A Minor by Lucien H. Southard (1827–1881), we heard the foundation stops, which ended in a fine fugal section.

Cooper’s own Fuga I tertii tone was a hit with the audience. The hymn was Jerusalem, my happy home, sung to Cooper’s tune, Kenny Dawson’s Mighty Hymn. We then heard this organ’s elegant strings in Tantum Ergo by John Henry Wilcox. The program closed with Postlude in A Major by George J. Webb.

The final concert of the convention was at St. Mary Mother of God R.C. Church in Washington, D.C., founded in 1845 for the German-speaking Catholics. The organ, which is in the rear balcony, is George S. Hutchings’ Opus 239 from 1891: two manuals, 27 ranks; it is nearly intact with its original tracker action. Timothy Edward Smith began with Bonnet’s Fantasy on Two Noels. A hymn followed: Sing of Mary, pure and holy (Raquel). Next, two selections from Seth Bingham’s Sixteen Carol Canons in Free Style. In Gabriel’s Salutation, which had  six canons, he demonstrated all manner of sounds small and great. Bring a Torch, Jeanette Isabelle had three canons. These were great organ demonstration pieces, with many refined colors.

Next was Myron Roberts’ Improvisation on God Rest You Merry. I loved the sweet little 8 Dolcissimo stop on the Great. Then, Harvey Gaul’s The Christmas Pipes of County Clare. The flutes had their day in this charming and wonderful music. Get this music—your congregation will love you! A second hymn followed: Hark! the herald angels sing (Mendelssohn), then Balbastre’s Joseph is a good husband. The fine reeds on this organ were well displayed making a mighty Grands Jeux. The final piece, and the finale to the convention, was Fantasy on Two English Carols. The First Noel was nicely articulated. Good King Wenceslaus was heard on the Swell reeds, and then on the soft flues and flutes. The First Noel returned triumphantly! A grand conclusion to a grand convention.

This was another outstanding OHS convention. Carl Schwartz and his committee are all to be congratulated for an exceptional effort. The organs were in great shape, the venues were spectacular, the scholarship we saw in the Atlas, the Convention Handbook, and the Hymn Book evidenced their thoroughness and affection for the organs of the communities in which they are so blessed to live. And, of course, the beauty of our nation’s capital seemed to grace and welcome us at every turn. 

The 2012 OHS national convention takes place July 9–13 in Chicago. For information: www.organsociety.org.

 

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Organ Historical Society National Convention, Chicago, July 8–13, 2012

Frank Rippl
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Chicago? Again? A third OHS national convention in the Windy City? What else was there to see and hear in the way of the pipe organ? There was a great deal—and splendidly presented with grace, good humor, brilliant scholarship, and midwestern charm. Chicago has world-class museums, architecture, shopping, dining, magnificent Lake Michigan—and stunning churches and pipe organs!

 

Sunday, July 8

Jonathan Ryan played the opening recital at St. Chrysostom’s Episcopal Church on Chicago’s North Side, on the fine 2m Fisk Op. 123 (2005) that stands on the floor in the rear nave’s left corner. Things got off to a lively start with Dupré’s transcription of Bach’s Sinfonia from Cantata 29. This robust Fisk has strong, dark, full-bodied reeds; clean, striking mixtures; singing flutes and strings, warm foundations, and a powerful fortissimo. Ryan’s playing had great drive; he saved the mighty reed sounds for a dramatic conclusion. In Sweelinck’s Balletto del Granduca, I liked hearing the full-bodied Trompette, flutes accompanying a Cornet and a jolly Zimbelstern, and a nice organo pleno to close. Fine playing.

Francis Jackson’s Prelude on East Acklam featured some very British sounds: celestes accompanied the 8Octave in the tenor register; I believe we heard the 4Open Flute. The organ more than held its own in the hymn “For the fruit of all creation.” How I love hearing OHS hymn singing! I was seated next to Stephen Schnurr and Dennis Northway, leaders of the convention. Their faces expressed great pleasure. That first hymn is always a wonderful affirmation for convention committee members—a moment of satisfaction after years of hard work. I was happy for them, and all who made this moment possible. This was indeed “the fruit of their creation.”

In György Ligeti’s (1923–2006) Étude coulée 1969 a busy, repetitive pattern of phenomenally fast notes in the flutes flew out over sustained pedal notes, then suddenly ended, flitting off to the upper reaches. A few chuckles were heard. 

Herbert Howells’ Rhapsody in C-sharp Minor, op. 17, no. 3, started big and then presented typical Howellsian dynamic and tonal variations. I liked the Hautbois 8as a chorus reed. The Great Prestant 16in the tenor range was grand. Ryan had a very fine sense of this piece’s architecture.

In No. 4 in A-Flat Major from Robert Schumann’s Six Canonic Etudes, op. 56, Ryan showed the rich foundations, ending with Viole de gambe 8′; No. 5 in B Minor offered pluck and life. George Baker’s Berceuse Paraphrase (1992) was a lovely combination of Vierne’s Berceuse with Away in a Manger—easy on the ear with celestes, solo flute, and soft pedal.

Jonathan Ryan closed with Dupré’s Prelude and Fugue in B Major, op. 7, no. 1—its lively toccata and angular fugue formed a test for hands and feet that he passed well! This excellent recital was a great start to our convention.

Buses took us downtown, where we had our choice of restaurants, then walked to Holy Name Cathedral for a recital by Wolfgang Rübsam on the 1989 4m, 117-rank Flentrop. With mechanical stop action and very deep mechanical key action, it is not for the faint of heart. Following a recent fire, the cathedral was closed for a time. The organ suffered only minor damage, to the Positief; building repairs, with a new terrazzo floor, improved the acoustics. The organ stands proudly in the rear gallery: its elaborate casework, in light-colored French quarter-sawn oak, starkly contrasts with the dramatic dark wooden ceiling. Herr Rübsam’s all-German program began with Bach’s partita Sei gegrüßet, Jesu gütig. Registrations were perfectly proportioned: cornets sang with grace and conviction, beautifully supported by foundations; the full plenum was rich and clear. Elegant playing throughout.

Chorale preludes followed: Helmut Walcha’s Jesu, deine Passion (canon at the sixth) in trio texture; Rübsam’s own Wie soll ich dich empfangen used an 8 Principal with tremolo, a lovely pastel; Walcha’s Ein feste Burg ist unser Gott offered wonderful counterpoint against a sturdy pedal cantus firmus. Walcha (1907–91) was Rübsam’s teacher; Rübsam is recording Walcha’s complete organ works on the Naxos label. We then sang the hymn “A mighty fortress is our God.” Our singing that night was some of the week’s best!

Walcha’s Ich ruf zu dir, Herr Jesu Christ presented effective combinations of 8 and 4 flutes, Cornet with tremolo, and a pedal-reed cantus firmus. Rübsam’s own O Heiland, reiß die Himmel auf: Entrée opened with a grand ff; Communio was a continually moving trio followed by a lush passage on strings and flutes; a lively Toccata followed, including the pedal 32 Bombarde. This thrilling and joyful piece is a first-rate addition to the repertoire. 

More Walcha followed: an introspective Der Tag ist hin, mein Jesu, bei mir bleibe. Usually I’m pretty good at identifying registrations, but not with this organ and organist. Rübsam drew forth a fantastic variety of color—the Dutch reeds were so subtle.

Rübsam closed this perfect recital with Bach’s Passacaglia and Fugue in C Minor. Dynamics began softly but built quickly; tempo was langsam at first, but built momentum and energy. The fugue’s familiar melodies were given their due in perfect balance. I’ve never heard it played better. Rübsam’s wife, Jan, told me that he had had rotator cuff surgery on his shoulder in April. Only three weeks prior to the convention did he know he could play for us! The audience’s roar called him back to the balcony railing countless times. This was a memorable OHS evening.

 

Monday, July 9

Monday dawned bright and sunny. Cooler temperatures followed weeks of horrendous heat. With perfect weather, we were eager to get started. 

We divided into two groups. Mine went to St. Andrew’s Episcopal Church in Valparaiso, Indiana to hear James Russell Brown play the 2m Hook & Hastings Op. 1417 (1889). The Atlas contains Stephen Schnurr’s two-page essay about this organ and Scot Huntington’s 16-page description of his firm’s work restoring the instrument. It stands at the back of the church resplendent in a beautiful oak case and painted façade; the 16 Bourdon pipes form the sides of the case. One of our Biggs Fellows hand-pumped the organ for the recital. Brown began with Handel’s Arrival of the Queen of Sheba (from Solomon). The organ’s sound was clear and warm. In Bach’s Allein Gott in der Höh sei Ehr, BWV 662, the Melodia accompanied the (partially new) 16 Contra Fagotto played one octave lower, along with (I think) the 4Violina, a lovely sound. Brown played with great sensitivity and sweetness. Sur “La, mi, re,” by an anonymous 16th-century English composer, was played on an 8flute. 

Chorale Variations on St. Elizabeth (Crusader’s Hymn), from Frank Ferko’s (b. 1950) Music for Elizabeth Chapel (2001), is charming and would please your congregation. I was eager to see how Brown would bring off the late-romantic Elgar Nimrod from “Enigma” Variations (op. 36), arranged by William H. Harris, on a small tracker organ without stop pullers. He did reasonably well, using the piano and forte ventil-like toe studs, but it was ultimately awkward. Parry’s hymn “O praise ye the Lord!(Laudate Dominum) was a good follow-up, in a fine demonstration of a very beautiful 19th-century organ.

A pleasant walk through a park-like setting complete with pond and fountain took us to First Presbyterian Church for our choice of lectures, one on the restoration of a 1926 Casavant that will be moved to Chicago’s St. John Cantius Church, about which we had received a DVD. I attended the other, “Issues in Restoration,” by Keith Williams of Buzard Pipe Organ Builders, a fascinating consideration of “Why do we do what we do the way we do it,” that also explored the words “conservation” and “restoration”—entertaining and enlightening, with plenty of photos. 

We then drove to Gary, Indiana, once home to U.S. Steel. It has stunning views of Lake Michigan, and an attractive English Gothic-style Catholic cathedral, built and dedicated in 1950 to the Holy Angels. The 2m, 33-rank Phelps Casavant, Op. 2769, installed in 1963, stands in the rear gallery on either side of a large window, and speaks clearly down the nave in a grand acoustic. This was a much-anticipated recital—word was out that this organ was exceptional (it was), and we all love Derek Nickels’ playing (he did not disappoint!). Bach’s Prelude and Fugue in C Minor, BWV 549, sounded clean and polished. The fugue began on the 8 Krummhorn—an unexpected surprise—and built to a blazing full-organ finale. We were all smitten with this instrument; music by Ernst Pepping perfectly suited it: Wie soll ich dich empfangen (Grosses Orgelbuch, 1941), Vorspiel I, Andante cantabile showed the beautiful 8and 4. Vorspiel II, Allegro Scherzando leapt about; a fine reed carried the tune. William Albright’s ever-charming Sweet Sixteenths—A Concert Rag for Organ (1975) was very well played with loads of wit. As it was about 90 degrees outside, and we were packed in the church without A/C, who knows how warm the church was, nor how warm Derek was up in the loft, but it never showed in his playing!

After “Father, we praise thee(Christe Sanctorum)—brilliantly played and vigorously sung—Nickels closed with Dupré’s Variations sur un Noël, op. 20 (1922), a dazzling performance that lifted us out of the pews roaring our approval for this superb recital. (Derek was also in charge of the buses, and did his work very well, indeed!)

Next was Christ Temple Cathedral—Church of Christ (Holiness) U.S.A. in the Roseland neighborhood. The present building was dedicated in 1926. Originally a Dutch Reformed church, in the 1960s and ’70s it and the neighborhood became largely African-American. The church is a well-maintained part of the community. Its 3m, 39-stop electro-pneumatic 1926 Hinners—the largest surviving Hinners in the Chicago area—stands in the front of the church in chambers on either side of the seated choir. Chicago organist and composer Clarence Eddy played the dedication recital. In 1954 Austin replaced the console. The organ fell silent in recent years, but was brought back to life by the Chicago-Midwest OHS chapter especially for our convention. Recitalist Mark Sudeith began with Wilhelm Middelschulte’s (1863–1943) Canon in F Major, dedicated to Clarence Eddy—cheery music using the foundation stops. Schubert’s Am Meer, arranged by Eddy, showed the beautiful soft strings and Vox Humana; the tone is warm and luxurious. Sudeith then played (from the original manuscript) Variations on a Folksong, “Peter, Go Ring Dem Bells,” by Florence B. Price (1887–1953), which displayed the solo reeds and ended with a lively toccata. The hymn “I’m happy with Jesus alone,” by Charles P. Jones Sr. (1865–1949), founder of the Church of Christ (Holiness) U.S.A., was a rouser in the best sense—we loved it. The playing was first rate, and our voices filled the 1,150-seat church with joy.

Our buses took us to Rockefeller Memorial Chapel, on the University of Chicago campus, to hear the massive 72-bell carillon, the world’s second largest (the largest, also a gift of the Rockefeller family, is at New York City’s Riverside Church, with 74 bells). John Gouwens played a stunning program as we sat in the grass beneath the chapel’s soaring tower: Dave Grusin’s On Golden Pond (1981); John Courter’s Suite No. 4 (2009); an improvisation on a submitted hymn tune; and Roy Hamlin Johnson’s Victimae Paschali Laudes (1986).

My group had dinner at Augustana Lutheran Church; organist Daniel Schwandt allowed us access to the church’s new handsome 2m tracker built by Wahl Organbuilders of Appleton, Wisconsin. We took quite a shine to its clear voicing. Wahl reused pipework from an old Lyon & Healy organ as well as newly made pipes—a very successful blend. 

On to the First Unitarian Church, completed in 1931 in the English Perpendicular Gothic style, to hear three historic organs from Stephen Schnurr’s collection. There was also a Hammond player organ performing: another treat! Who knew there was such a thing? Gregory Crowell, making his ninth appearance at an OHS convention, began on a Henry Willis “Scudamore” organ (ca. 1857–1860) with Gottlieb Muffat’s Overture, Suite 1 in C Major. The one-manual, 54-note organ had two ranks: Open Diapason 8 and Principal 4, with a permanently coupled 25-note pedal. The pleasing sounds graced the early evening. Crowell then moved to a sweet-toned little George Jardine & Sons (ca. 1850s) (“the oldest American-built pipe organ in the Chicago metropolitan area,” according to the Atlas). He gracefully played Handel’s Voluntary in C Major, movements III and VI from Ernest Chausson’s Vêpres des Vierges, op. 31 (I enjoyed the flute in movement VI), and his own transcription of Mendelssohn’s Lieder ohne Wörte, op. 67, V. Moderato

A two-rank (no pedal) Hilborne L. Roosevelt, Op. 297 (1885) looked like an upright piano, having a reed organ’s foot-pumping pedals. It was meant to be portable. We heard Voluntary by Samuel Jackson (1818–1885), then some elegant Elgar: Vesper Voluntaries, op. 14, I. Andante and IV. Allegretto piacevole, with an effective Stopped Diapason. Praeludium in F-sharp Minor by Ernst Friedrich Richter (1808–1879) was interesting and well suited to the Roosevelt. Crowell concluded on the Willis, with Eric Thiman’s Postlude on “Nun danket alle Gott” and I. Allegro from Sonatine for Organ by Eberhart Egermann (b. 1933), good demonstration pieces, well played. We were grateful to Stephen Schnurr for making these instruments available (and to those who helped transport them!).

We returned to Rockefeller Memorial Chapel to hear Nathan Laube; the performance was broadcast over the Internet (available at: http://news.uchicago.edu/webcast/nathan-laube-live-2012-ohs-chicago-con…), an OHS first. The chapel is vast: long, wide, and high, with the main organ in front and a substantial gallery organ in the rear. The front 4m console plays both organs; a 2m gallery console controls just that organ. The room’s windows were never properly finished, so it lacks color, but is still quite impressive. The 132-rank Skinner Organ Company Op. 634 was built in 1928—a period in which Ernest Skinner built his magnum opus at Yale University’s Woolsey Hall, and huge organs at the University of Michigan and Princeton. This organ suffered some rebuilding efforts in the 1970s and later; several ranks were dispersed. In 2005 the Schantz Organ Company returned old ranks, replicated others, and replaced some with vintage Skinner pipework. Rededicated on June 7, 2008, the organ, while not exactly as Skinner left it, is once again a major part of the Chicago organ scene. 

OHS executive director Jim Weaver welcomed the audience, including those on the World Wide Web, then Nathan Laube opened with Allegro vivace from Widor’s Symphonie, op. 42, no. 5 (1878). This familiar music moved over us gently at first, followed by a good deal of aggression. Laube kept things in proportion, giving each melodic line its due, ending on full organ with those fabulous reeds. Laube spoke about growing up in Chicago; as a young boy he was taken to hear the E. M. Skinner organ at St. Luke’s, Evanston, and to Rockefeller Chapel, where he heard Wolfgang Rübsam play. He fell in love with these instruments and knew that playing the organ would be his career.

Mendelssohn’s Sonata in A, op. 65, no. 3 (1845), first movement ended in a blaze of glory, followed by the lovely Andante tranquillo. Laube’s transcription of Mendelssohn’s Variations serieuses, op. 54 (1841), with passages of great wit and virtuosity, wonderfully displayed this huge organ’s colors. Though young (he turned 25 the day before this recital), Laube is a master of the art of transcription. He reached deeply into the vast Skinner tonal palette, and brought us to places we might not have gone before—a brilliant performance. 

After intermission, he played Saint-Saëns’ Fantaisie in D-flat, op. 101 (1895). Its quiet opening showed beautiful strings and a solo flute that was to die for. A gentle reed chorus punctuated the flutes and strings, then stronger reeds were in dialogue with the foundations. A swelling crescendo then arose. Laube played it beautifully, announcing the ff section on a powerful reed, then slowly drifted back to quiet strings. 

In Funérailles (d’après Lamartine) from Laube’s transcription of Liszt’s Harmonies poétiques et religieuses, S. 173, no. 7 (1849), thunder-like pedal rumbles gave an ominous start, followed by a smashing fanfare played on the gallery organ’s horizontal trumpet. This piece is full of foreboding darkness, and Laube summoned forth remarkable color. A riotous pedal solo accompanied the active manual work, which featured a few blasts from a strong reed, and then gave way to a single flute. In two Brahms settings of O Welt, ich muß dich lassen, no. 3 employed a quiet 8 Diapason on the choir, and no. 11 drew especially gorgeous foundations. Laube’s tempo was a bit restless, as though the soul longed to leave the body and journey heavenward. 

The world premiere of Laube’s transcription of Brahms’s Academic Festival Overture, op. 80 (1880), featured melodic lines and rhythmic passages carefully delineated, and blended into a musically rich and full whole. The concert concluded with Gaudeamus Igitur, so fun to sing in this full chapel, ending a wonderful day. 

 

Tuesday, July 10

In the suburb of Downers Grove we visited the charming Tivoli Theatre, where house organist David Rhodes played its 3m, 10-rank Wurlitzer, Op. 942. The third organ to grace this theatre (it was preceded by a Barton and a Wurlitzer), this instrument is owned and maintained by Chicago Area Theatre Organ Enthusiasts (CATOE). We munched on popcorn as Rhodes entertained us with Richard A. Whiting’s Hooray for Hollywood (1937), and Charles Chaplin’s Smile, then accompanied a hilarious 1915 Chaplin short film, In the Park (possibly filmed in the Chicago area). Rhodes seemingly caught every nuance. In a hot dog-eating scene, he slipped in the “Oscar Mayer Wiener Song”—very clever playing and a fun start to the day.

Our next stop was very sentimental for me: the beautiful Noack organ, Op. 44 (1969) at the Convent of the Sisters of St. Joseph in La Grange Park. Installed the summer I graduated from college, this organ became a place of pilgrimage for us “Tracker Backers” on our visits to Chicago. It stands in a balcony in the rear of the nave of this handsome modern chapel. Originally the room had all hard surfaces, but now carpet covers the concrete floor, and padded chairs have replaced wooden seats. Though the acoustic is not as beautiful as it once was, the organ still sounds great. 

Thomas Wikman began with Buxtehude’s Partita on “Vater unser im Himmelreich”; I especially enjoyed the 4 flutes with tremolo. In Antonio Cabezón’s Tiento del quinto tono, Wikman’s well-chosen registration—reeds and Sesquialtera II—led the way. This organ’s Italian accent spoke in Girolamo Cavazzoni’s Canzona sopra ‘Il e bel e bon’, played with good style. The sounds were as beautiful as I remembered. The music was cleanly and sensitively played. 

After the hymn “Alleluia! Sing to Jesus” (Hyfrydol), Wikman gave us a sweet performance of Robert Lind’s Prelude on ‘Love Unknown’, then Bach’s Pièce d’Orgue, BWV 572, which worked quite well. The brilliant closing section brought this outstanding concert to a fine conclusion.

Emmanuel Episcopal Church in La Grange is the city’s oldest congregation, founded in 1874. The present French Gothic-style church was built in 1926. (Our Atlas noted that it was featured in the 1995 film While You Were Sleeping.) The 1970 electro-pneumatic Phelps Casavant, Op. 3062, 3m, 46 stops, 63 ranks, stands in a chamber to the right of the chancel. Stephen Schnurr, author of the OHS Organ Atlas 2012, began with the hymn “Lo, he comes with clouds descending” (Helmsley),  followed by Buxtehude’s Praeludium in A Minor, BuxWV 153. Schnurr used the Krummhorn to good effect. Flutes led to the final fugue and a fantasia presenting the full plenum and pedal reeds—a wonderful sound, in a fine performance. 

Next came the premiere of Variations on Hyfrydol, written by convention chair Dennis Northway. At one point the tune appeared in the tenor with imaginatively placed fast notes up top. Another movement used a canon between a trumpet and pedal foundations. After a beautiful movement with sweet strings and soft foundations, a fugue brought this very good new piece to a close. Well done!

A hallmark of Stephen Schnurr’s OHS recitals is the showcasing of young musicians and friends. This recital featured a mother and her children. Tenor Willson Oppedahl, a junior at Lawrence University Conservatory of Music in Appleton, Wisconsin, movingly performed Thomas Matthews’ (1915–99) The Lord Is My Shepherd, beautifully sung with sincere conviction. Elegy for violin, harp, and organ, by Harold Friedell (1908–58), featured violinist Allison Alcorn, Willson’s mother; her daughter Kiersten Oppedahl played harp. This enchanting piece, very well presented, cast a spell over all of us. 

Horatio Parker’s Allegretto, from Sonata in E-flat, op. 65, was a good contrast. The Phelps Krummhorn was playful, especially in the lower register, while flutes 8 and 4 scampered above. Stephen closed with the Allegro from Widor’s Symphonie VI, op. 42, a fine choice for this outstanding exemplar of the Organ Reform Movement. This organ has a lot of oomph, and Dr. Schnurr used it to good effect, playing with marvelous style and color. 

La Grange’s First Presbyterian Church was organized in 1890. The present church was built in 1962. Its 1962 3m, 46-rank Aeolian-Skinner stands in a gallery at the rear of the long, narrow nave. David Jonies and Jay Peterson shared the concert. Peterson opened with Rheinberger’s Sonata No. 8 in E Minor, op. 132, Introduction and Passacaglia, which sounded very good, with clear sounds in every dynamic range. They then joined forces for Handel’s Organ Concerto in F Major, op. 4, no. 4. Jay Peterson played the four-stop 1981 Brunzema Op. 3 portative organ from the front, while David Jonies played the orchestra bits on the main organ in the gallery. The organs were well matched, and the performance spirited. 

Jonies then played Andantino from Vierne’s Pièces de fantaisie, op. 51, no. 2, showing the beautiful strings, and Naïades, op. 55, no. 4. Next, both played the Skinner: John Rutter’s Variations on an Easter Theme (O sons and daughters), featuring a fine solo on the Oboe. The hymn was: “O sons and daughters let us sing!” (O filii et filiae).

On to Oak Park, to the beautiful St. Catherine of Siena–St. Lucy Catholic Church, a Tudor Gothic-style building dedicated in 1934. Casavant Op. 1467, built in 1932, stands in the rear gallery in two chambers that frame a large Tudor-style window. A modest 3m instrument, it has everything you’d need to be its happy player. The lucky person playing for us was Rhonda Sider Edgington, who opened with Percy Whitlock. In Pastorale, Psalm 23:1 from Seven Sketches on Verses from the Psalms, a solo on the Clarinet was accompanied by flutes, a great choice that slowly revealed the organ’s beauty. Folk Tune, from Five Short Pieces, used what I believe was the Cornopean in the tenor range. The beautiful strings crept in—still fresh after 80 years.

The hymn Picardy (“Let all mortal flesh keep silent”) was a joy to sing in this resonant room. We then heard our first music by Chicago composer Leo Sowerby: Picardy from Meditations on Communion Hymns. Edgington knew just how to express Sowerby’s marvelous harmonic sense. Her closing selection displayed this organ’s strong foundation tone: August Gottfried Ritter’s (1811–85) Sonate Nr. 2 in E Minor, op. 19.

We went to Oak Park’s Grace Episcopal Church for our Annual Meeting, followed by dinner; some explored the neighborhood, with its historic and architectural sites. 

At nearby First United Methodist Church, Ken Cowan played the splendid 4m 1926 Skinner. The console stands in a front balcony behind and above the altar, with pipes in chambers on either side of the chancel; a two-rank Echo division is in the ceiling above the rear gallery. A division of select stops from the main organ speaks into the chapel, where the division has its own 2m console. 

Cowan began with Liszt’s arrangement of Otto Nicolai’s Festival Overture on the chorale “Ein feste Burg is unser Gott,” op. 31. This organ was completely restored without alteration in 2005–6 by the Spencer Organ Company of Massachusetts and Jeff Weiler & Associates; except for an added stop in 1937, it is as it was when Skinner delivered it, producing powerful foundation tone and floor-shaking pedal notes. Cowan’s arrangement of Liszt’s Consolation No. 3 in D-flat featured lush strings and flutes, and a Skinner French Horn, played with his usual sensitivity.

The hymn was “When the morning stars together” (Weisse Flaggen). Ken Cowan’s hymn playing, like everything else, is done with great art and grace.

John Ireland’s beautiful Elegiac Romance began with a sweet Oboe solo followed by a wonderful section with celestes—perfect for a summer evening. It included the French Horn, and then built to a mighty roar; the plaintive Oboe returned, and it ended with quiet strings. Cowan closed the first half with a blazing performance of Dupré’s Prelude and Fugue in G Minor, op. 7, no. 3. I liked the Clarinet’s clear, round sound. The playing was precise and yet supple, with the musical line clearly shaped. That fantastic fugue really galloped along.

This organ had been restored but not modernized: it lacks levels of memory. So, as in the good old days, Cowan had to come out during intermission and reset his pistons. He chuckled about it, but went about his work good-naturedly. 

Cowan then returned to his perch high above us to perform Rachel Laurin’s Étude Héroïque, demonstrating the assertive Gamba Celestes on the Solo division, and a sweet 2 in a French Tambourin section of this piece. He closed with Guilmant’s Sonata No. 1 in D Minor, op. 42, giving this well-known work a new sheen through his musical creativity. The Pastorale showed the Clarinet again, the beautiful Vox Humana, and the Chimes. The Finale swept us along for a gleeful ride, with our pilot Ken Cowan giving the OHS another brilliant and memorable concert! We returned to our hotel fired up for the instrument we love, having just heard one its finest champions.

 

Wednesday, July 11

We began at Chicago’s Carl Schurz High School. The 1910 building is a masterpiece, incorporating elements of both Chicago and Prairie School styles. The 1925 Waveland Avenue wing included an auditorium seating nearly 1,800 and boasting three seconds of reverberation. The 4m Richard O. Whitelegg Möller proved to be one of the favorite instruments heard at this convention. The console abuts the front-left of the stage on the auditorium floor; pipes stand on a wide shelf at the back of the stage. We were told that this organ was delivered seven weeks after the contract was signed; the high quality of the work tells a great deal about Möller’s vast resources. (See Dennis Northway, “A new four-manual pipe organ in seven weeks: Möller Opus 6373 at Chicago’s Carl Schurz High School,” The Diapason, May 2012, pp. 26–29; audio file available at www.thediapason.com.) 

John Sherer, organist at Chicago’s Fourth Presbyterian Church, presented a “Concert to Commemorate the 100th Anniversary of the Sinking of the Titanic.” “Music of 1912” began with Elgar’s Imperial March, brilliantly played. The instrument has an English town hall organ’s power and grandeur. In Edward Bairstow’s Elegy, gorgeous strings and flutes were played with just enough rubato. The pedal part rumbled quietly as though it were a creature of the deep ocean. 

In “Music Heard Aboard the Titanic,” John Philip Sousa’s rousing and entertaining El Capitan was followed by Edwin H. Lemare’s transcription of Barcarolle, from Offenbach’s The Tales of Hoffmann, said to have been played one hour before the ship sank. Next came Irving Berlin’s Alexander’s Ragtime Band, which was played as the ship sank. Sherer played it very well. 

“Music to Honor the Titanic Victims” began with Joseph Bonnet’s touching In Memoriam. The organ gave us deeply moving sounds of sadness, grief, and horror, and images of the deep, cold ocean. The piece ended with a quiet farewell to the victims of this tragedy.

This beautiful organ is in need and most worthy of a complete restoration, but was made to sound quite fine this day. Sherer closed with The Navy Hymn, “Eternal Father strong to save.” Here the too-brisk, march-like tempo seemed to not match the words. An over-busy accompaniment threw us off the pulse, and twice Sherer modulated up. The rest of the concert, however, was lovely and inspiring. 

We then went to Glencoe and the beautiful North Shore Congregation Israel. It was a thrill to enter this holy space, designed by architect Minoru Yamasaki (who designed the Oberlin Conservatory of Music). A peaceful study in white overlooking Lake Michigan, the sanctuary is shaped like praying hands. Narrow windows start just above the floor and rise to form ceiling arches, allowing light to fill the space. The 3m, 46-rank electro-pneumatic Casavant, Op. 2768 (probably the largest untouched early Phelps Casavant in the Chicago area), perches on a free-standing rear balcony.

The recitalist was H. Ricardo Ramirez, director of music/organist at Chicago’s Holy Name Cathedral. Jehan Alain’s Les Fêtes de l’Année Israelite, AWV 85, in the style of Hebrew chant and song, began quietly on the Krummhorn and gradually grew to a Trumpet fanfare. This very approachable music was so appropriate to the space, with clear and refined sounds. We sang the hymn “God of might” (Adeer Hu) in both Hebrew and English. In Bach’s Trio Sonata in G Major, BWV 530, the third movement showed the organ’s Sesquialtera. Ramirez closed with Duruflé’s Suite, op. 5. The Fagott 16 played one octave lower was a very fine sound. The Toccata was thrillingly played.

In the leafy suburb of Winnetka, we visited Winnetka Congregational Church and its landmark 3m Martin Pasi tracker, Op. 18 (2008). Established in 1869, the church’s present building, Colonial with Art Deco and Egyptian touches in its lovely white interior, was built in 1936. The ornate North German-style case in front commands the eye with the Great in the middle, the Swell above the Great, and the Positiv cantilevered in front of the Great with the keydesk below, similar to John Brombaugh’s Op. 33 organ at Lawrence University in Appleton. The Pedal is in towers at the sides of the case; the 32 Subbass is in the old chambers above and to the sides of the altar, where the previous Austin once stood. 

Nicholas Bideler, a doctoral candidate at the University of Kansas, began with Bruhns’s Praeludium in G Major, which sounded wonderful on this organ. Bideler’s playing had clear direction and he used the organ’s many colors very well. Next was Bach’s Schmücke dich, o liebe Seele, BWV 654. One tremulant affects the entire organ, and it was fine, although it did create a bit of a stir on that low pedal E-flat that starts the piece. I think Bideler used the Vox Humana with a 4 flute as the solo line. His performance was imbued with the inner joy expressed in the chorale. 

In Karg-Elert’s Trois Impressions, Op. 72—I. Harmonies du soir, Bideler showed this versatile organ’s romantic voice. I enjoyed the Krummhorn and strings. “Dear Lord and Father of Mankind” (Repton) was followed by Impromptu from Vierne’s 24 Pièces de fantaisie, 3ème Suite, which worked quite well. Bideler closed with Duruflé’s Prélude, adagio et choral varié sur le theme di Veni Creator, Op. 4—III Choral varié. The triumphant ending was riveting. 

Grace Presbyterian Church in Winnetka had been First Church of Christ, Scientist, built in 1938—a white Colonial-style church, whose pewter and crystal lighting fixtures were imported from Czechoslovakia prior to World War II. The church was sold to Grace Presbyterian Church in 2012. The 1938 tonally and mechanically unaltered 2m W. W. Kimball Co. organ, Op. 7238, stands at the front. Both Swell and Great are enclosed in separate chambers. The first recital was given by William H. Barnes, of Evanston, on August 21, 1938. Our recitalist, Elizabeth Naegele, who, among other things, has the distinction of being Nathan Laube’s first organ teacher, opened with Lefébure-Wély’s Sortie in B-flat Major—jolly music, played with great spirit and flourish. In a salute to this building’s long history as a Christian Science Church, the hymn was Mary Baker Eddy’s 1896 “Saw ye my Saviour?” (Laundon). We sang it well, and she played it with great sensitivity to the text, using the organ’s colors nicely. 

Naegele then played five of the “versets” from Léon Boëllmann’s Heures mystiques, ending with Entrée III. I particularly liked the Oboe. Sonata II—III Seraphic Chant by Lily Wadhams Moline (1862–1966) was lovely music, beautifully played. Naegele ended this fine and well-chosen program with Let Us Break Bread Together from Communion Hymns for Organ, Vol. I, in a quite inventive setting by Edwin T. Childs (b. 1945). 

Our next visit, to Techny’s Chapel of the Holy Spirit, Society of the Divine Word, was highly anticipated as we had seen stunning photos of its interior. A huge complex, its property adjoins St. Joseph’s Technical School, whence the “Techny” nickname originates. The large Romanesque chapel, adorned with beautiful carvings, statues, chandeliers, and sconces (forged in the Techny shops), opened in 1923. The second-story gallery runs the entire perimeter of the chapel, and our musicians took full advantage of it. Acoustics were generous and rich. The 4m Wiener organ, some of whose ranks are reused from other instruments, stands in the rear gallery in an attractive case. Its condition is not great, but it was shown to its best advantage. 

We heard The Madrigal Choir of Grace Episcopal Church, Oak Park, led by Dennis Northway, along with young organists Madeleine Woodworth and Charlie Carpenter. Now in its twelfth year, the choir, made up of mostly high school students, is dedicated to singing music of the Renaissance. Mr. Carpenter began, playing Vierne’s Carillon sur la sonnerie du carillon de la chapelle du Château de Longpont (Aisne) from 24 Pièces en style libre, op. 31, no. 21, with skill and aplomb. 

The choir sang Kyrie Eleison from William Byrd’s Mass for four voices very well, in proper Anglican style. They surprised us by singing not from the rear gallery where the organ was, but from the perimeter gallery above the high altar. After Madeleine Woodworth played Divertissement from Vierne’s 24 Pièces en style libre, with plenty of drive from this powerful organ, the choir offered Blessed Are the Pure in Heart by Eric DeLamarter (1880–1953), a beautiful setting sung and conducted with great sensitivity. Woodworth led the hymn, Leo Sowerby’s “Come risen Lord, and deign to be our guest” (Rosedale). The choir moved to different places along that perimeter gallery each time they sang, slowly making their way to the organ loft—a magical effect. Northway led these well-trained students beautifully in Peter Lutkin’s The Lord Bless You and Keep You

A new setting of Ave Verum Corpus was by a familiar figure: 20 year-old Adam Gruber, an alumnus of this choir and organ student of Dennis Northway, who has played for us many times and is now a student at Oberlin. The piece was well constructed and showed that Gruber has a future in the art of composition. Charlie Carpenter, a current Northway student, played the Widor Toccata. Great job, Charlie! Kudos to Dennis Northway for giving these young people a chance to perform at the convention!

Buses then took us to Evanston, for dinner at the North Shore Hotel downtown, and then the treat of several neighborhood open consoles. Some of the young, fast-moving types, led by Nathan Laube, made it down to St. Luke’s Church and its magnificent E.M. Skinner. It was a grand, fun, free time. 

The day concluded at the Music Institute of Chicago. This building, a former Christian Science church, retained its 1914 E. M. Skinner organ, Op. 208 (the oldest functioning Skinner in Illinois, according to our Atlas), a modest 3m instrument whose pipes stand at the back of the platform in front of the 900-seat auditorium built in the Neoclassic style favored by Mary Baker Eddy. The console is on the stage. Recitalist Scott Montgomery began with Saint-Saëns’ Fantaisie in E-flat. The forte sections demonstrated the sturdy foundation stops echoed by the Cornopean—a great sound. Montgomery played Bach’s transcription of Vivaldi’s Concerto in D Minor, BWV 596, in the Romantic tradition, with shades and all. I loved the ppp strings in the second movement. It worked surprisingly well.

In the Choral of Widor’s Symphony No. 7, op. 42, no. 3, Montgomery captured the mood nicely, alternating string, flute, and foundation tone. Scherzo from Vierne’s Symphony No. 2, op. 20, was an audience favorite; Montgomery did a fine job, and so did the Skinner. Huge flute sounds crowned the ensemble. Dudley Buck’s Variations on Home, Sweet Home, op. 30, displayed the big, bold Cornopean, Vox Humana, Flügel Horn, and the Great Philomela. The Swell Aeoline and Unda Maris closed the piece—wonderful sounds that made my mouth water. One young member was heard to say, “I want an E. M. Skinner in my church!” In a beautiful calm Calvin Hampton Lullaby, Montgomery summoned all of the organ’s softest sounds. The Swell Gedackt accompanied the Clarinet in the tenor range; the Vox Humana was heard again as a solo with a 4 flute. Unda Maris and Aeoline were a great combination. This is a piece your congregation would love!

In Guilmant’s Caprice in B-flat, op. 20, no. 3 from Pièces dans différents styles, Book VI, there was a good deal of playful shifting of manuals—welcome after the Hampton’s quiet gentility, and very well played. This organ has no general pistons, so Montgomery employed two very skilled stop pullers. The hymn was Mary Baker Eddy’s “It matters not what be thy lot” (Gloaming). Montgomery closed his fine program with John Knowles Paine’s sturdy Concert Variations on the Austrian Hymn, op. 3, no. 1—always a good tour of an organ. We returned to the hotel tired but exhilarated. 

 

Thursday, July 12

Thursday dawned bright and sunny. At Chicago’s Evangelical Lutheran Church of St. Luke (ELCA) we heard Erik Wm. Suter play the large 1963 3m Schlicker. The church’s long, high nave offers wonderful acoustics. The main organ stands in the rear gallery, with a Positiv mounted on the railing. The clear, refined sound includes marvelous mixtures that were like cooling drops of water. A smaller unit organ is in front of the church. Suter opened with Bach’s Prelude and Fugue in G, BWV 541; he has a fine and clean technique, and tempos were perfect for both music and room. 

Dale Wood’s gorgeous setting of In Thee Is Gladness began with strings and a 4 flute. We also heard lovely solo reeds. In “Come down, O love divine” (Down Ampney), Suter showed brilliant hymn leadership. His time as organist at Washington National Cathedral was evident in a grandiose and thrilling style of playing; his last verse reharmonization was a thing of wonder.

In Peter Eben’s Nedelní Hudba (Music for Sunday), Finale, Suter put the blazing reeds on full display. After a quiet section with strings, solo flutes, and quiet solo reeds, some growling and menacing pedal sounds took us back to the louder, livelier music. Organ and organist were a fabulous combination; this fantastic concert was a great start to the day. 

We proceeded to the huge and imposing St. Josaphat’s Church in Chicago, in Romanesque style with massive stone walls, blessed in 1902. The first organ in the rear gallery, built by the Wisconsin Pipe Organ Factory in 1902, was replaced in 1924 by a 3m Kilgen, Op. 3386, which used some pipes from the previous instrument and retained its case. In 2004, the Bradford Organ Company installed a “much traveled” 1872 2m Johnson Organ Company Op. 386 in the nave on the right side. Our recitalist Bernadette Wagner earned her bachelor’s degree from the Jacobs School of Music at Indiana University; she is now a graduate student at Arizona State University. Wagner began with two Brahms settings of O Welt, ich muß dich lassen on the Kilgen; diapasons were warm and rich in the reverberant space—nicely played. She then came downstairs to the Johnson organ for the hymn “Creator spirit, by whose aid” (Surrey). Bernadette Wagner and the room-filling sound of this 14 stop-organ were quite up to the task of accompanying us. 

Movements II and III of Mendelssohn’s Sonata No. 4 in B-flat, op. 65, featured the organ’s beautiful Clarinet, Oboe and Bassoon, and lovely flutes—very pleasing playing with a well-developed sense of musical line. Wagner closed her fine recital with Daniel Pinkham’s The Book of Hours, a nice demonstration of the various combinations on this well-made treasure from another century. 

Chicago’s Wicker Park Evangelical Lutheran Church, ELCA, was formally organized in 1879; the present Romanesque church was finished in 1907. The 1907 Möller tracker is still in use; sadly, however, only part of the Swell division was operable, so much of the program was compromised; at times it was difficult to even hear the organ. Our players were Dennis Northway and Adam Gruber. Northway opened with a very soft Clarence Eddy Prelude in A Minor, using the Möller’s beautiful strings very well, then played Harrison M. Wild’s ironically named hymn “Softly fades the twilight ray.” Adam Gruber played two selections from Bach’s Orgelbüchlein, and Northway played Pachelbel’s Aria Sebaldina from Hexachordum Apollinis (1699). I felt sorry for these gentlemen having to play an instrument not up to convention standards. We had to listen very carefully to hear anything, but I must say that it was always worth the effort. 

During free time downtown, we could either visit the Chicago Cultural Center in the grand old former public library, or, as I did, cross Michigan Avenue and visit Millennium Park with its fantastic Frank Gehry-designed bandshell, and the three-story Anish Kapoor “Cloud Gate” steel sculpture (known locally as “The Bean”). The entire complex is brilliant.

A problem arose, beyond the convention leaders’ control. The 1927 3m Estey at the John Murphy Auditorium of the American College of Surgeons was unable to be played. So our brave recitalist, Cathryn Wilkins, moved to a quite different venue and organ—the huge 4m Aeolian-Skinner in the Fourth Presbyterian Church on Michigan Avenue, across the street from the 100-story John Hancock Center—and very quickly adapted her program. Designed for a very different instrument, the program did not make full use of this organ’s range, but was nevertheless entertaining. Wilkins played some waltzes by Brahms for piano, Vierne’s Scherzetto from 24 Pièces, and Le Cygne from Saint-Saëns’ Carnival of the Animals. She ended with three movements from In Fairyland by Roy Spalding Stoughton (1884–1953)—a pleasant recital. 

Our buses took us to Navy Pier—a huge place with a highly charged carnival atmosphere. We boarded “The Spirit of Chicago” for a late-afternoon harbor cruise and buffet dinner. The dramatic Chicago skyline was very beautiful. We enjoyed each other’s company and the tasty food. 

As we were downtown at 6 pm, when traffic was busy (with numerous street carnivals), our buses got snagged—the only bus problem all week. Our evening recital was at St. Pauls United Church of Christ, founded in 1843 to serve German-speaking Protestants. In 1959 the present English Gothic-style building was completed and the 4m Aeolian-Skinner, Op. 1328, installed. Its main pipe chambers are situated above and on either side of the chancel. In 1998–2000 the Berghaus Organ Company completed the organ as originally planned, updating some of the mechanical features of the console, located at the front. 

Our performer was well-known Chicago organist David Schrader. It took about 40 minutes for everyone to arrive, and bless his heart, Schrader entertained us early arrivals with an impromptu performance, from memory, of Bach’s Toccata, Adagio and Fugue in C Major. It was delightful. 

When the audience was finally in place, Schrader began with Bach’s Prelude and Fugue in E Minor, BWV 548 (“The Wedge”). Some of the playing was rushed, which took away from the towering majesty of Bach’s music. The organ was more than up to the style, and Schrader used it quite well. In Commotio, op. 53 by Carl Nielsen (1865–1931), we heard mixture tone for a very long time, which, right after the Bach, grew tiresome. Finally, some flute sounds were heard, leading to contrasting dynamics in another section. A fugue began—Schrader’s tempos were just fine. We then heard what I believe was the lovely Gedeckt in the Antiphonal division, located high in the rear balcony—imaginative and colorful use of contrast. He used dramatic moments to good effect. The piece was OK, but it seemed to be longer than needed. Although Schrader played it well, my ears could have done with less mixture tone; at the end, he drew all of the high-pitched mixtures, bordering on painful after such a long piece.

After intermission, the lovely hymn “O blest Creator of the light” (Lucis Creator) was followed by Frank Ferko’s Symphonie brève (1987). The opening Andante had a running bass line in the pedals, with foundation stops and reeds in chords on the manuals. Attractive flute sounds accompanied a Cornet. The pedal motion returned with punctuations from those singular A/S reeds. The Toccata began on strings and flutes with fast figures. A bonny solo flute sounded out a tune in the pedal’s tenor range. We heard wonderful colors in this very appealing work. In the final Chorale, the use of mixtures and reeds was startling. The writing was fresh, sort of Messiaen or Langlais “lite”. 

Schrader closed with Reger’s Fantasia and Fugue in D Minor, op. 135b. Plenty of contrast is called for and we got it, in a fine tour of this noble instrument’s fine solo voices and choruses. It was all beautifully played with great attention to the rhythmic and thematic structure.

 

Friday, July 13

The final day, devoted to regional organbuilders, began with Sebastian M. Glück’s lecture on “Innovation, Adaptation, and Stagnation: The Tonal Trajectory of the Roosevelt Organ.” Hilborne and Frank Roosevelt, aristocratic æsthetes as well as businessmen, were interested in organbuilding. Glück discussed their life and work, people who influenced them, and how their work still influences American organ building over a century after their deaths—most interesting.

We then were bused to Grace Lutheran Church in River Forest. Founded in 1902, the present English Gothic-style building was dedicated in 1931. The organ began as Skinner Organ Company, Op. 833, a 3m, 36-rank organ, rebuilt in 1956 by Schlicker. In 1987, it was rebuilt and enlarged to its present size by the Berghaus Organ Company of Bellwood, Illinois. The pipes are in twin chambers on either side of the altar, the console in a balcony over the left transept. The church has beautiful carvings and a live acoustic. 

Organist Karen Schneider Kirner began with a hymn: “As daylight steals across the skies.” Kirner wrote the tune, Morning Hymn, which was quite good. Eugène Gigout’s Grand Chœur dialogué made good use of the reeds. I could have done with less mixture tone. Kirner’s steady playing gave this majestic piece its just due. After Gigout’s Scherzo, from Dix Pièces, we then heard Variations sur un Noël bourguignon by André Fleury (1903–95), which showed some of the organ’s softer stops as well as fuller sounds. The music was attractive—like an updating of Dandrieu. 

This is a very loud organ. Seated in the front row, I wished that I had sat further back because Kirner may have crossed a line with overuse of tutti. Mixtures and reeds together over a long stretch of time is tiring.

A Gigue for the Tuba Stop by Donald Stuart Wright (b. 1940) was next—a thrilling piece, but again loud. My ears longed for strings and flutes played with the shades closed. Chicago composer Keith S. Kalemba’s (b. 1972) Toccata was also a loud piece. Kirner is a fine organist, but her programming choices were not wise. We did not hear any of the soft solo reeds. Another hymn followed: “Sing the Lord a new song,” to a tune written by Ms. Kirner. One final blazingly loud piece brought her program to a close: Marcel Dupré’s Carillon, from Sept Pièces, op. 27.

OHS convention recitalists usually take great pains to show the entire range and color of the organs to which they are assigned in thoughtfully and carefully chosen pieces. Sadly, this was not the case.

On to Wilmette, and St. John’s Evangelical Lutheran Church ELCA, to hear William Aylesworth, former organist at that church, long-time and well-loved performer at OHS conventions, and past OHS president. The church, founded in 1903, built its present English Gothic red brick worship space in 1923. Aylesworth told us that he was approached in the late 1980s by the Bradford Organ Company, offering to build an organ as an example of what they could do with recycled materials from other organs. The result was Bradford’s Op. 6 from 1990, a very successful 2m instrument. It stands in a small transept, with pipework in a chamber to the left of the altar, using a space formerly occupied by a Wangerin organ. 

Aylesworth began with “O God, our help in ages past” (St. Anne). Bill was organist here for 38 years, and knows how to lead a hymn in this space. It was beautifully played. Bach’s Wir glauben all’ an einen Gott, BWV 680, wonderfully showed this organ’s great clarity. Ich ruf’ zu dir, Herr Jesu Christ, BWV 639, demonstrated the lovely Oboe with tremolo. In Dandrieu’s Trio avec Pédale, we heard the warm Clarinet, which came from a Hutchings organ. The beautiful Great 4Gedeckt, and the Swell 4 Flute d’Amour (from a Johnson & Son organ, Op. 389) worked very well. Dandrieu’s Duo en cors de chasse sur la trompette used, I believe, the Great Trumpet, which came from a 19th-century organ. It had a surprisingly robust sound.

Aylesworth ended his fine recital with Guilmant: Three Nöels, op. 60, demonstrated more solo stops; Marche sur un thème de Hændel, op. 15, no. 2 was very well played and sent us out on a high!

At Glenview Community Church (UCC), we heard young organist Stephen Buzard in music for organ and brass quintet. The organ was built by Stephen’s father’s company: John-Paul Buzard Pipe Organ Builders, Champaign, Illinois, Op. 21 (1999). In the Colonial-style church the organ is in three chambers behind the altar; a rank of Principal pipes provides façades for each of them. The center chamber’s façade is of polished tin, while the flanking chamber façades are flamed copper. The console is in the French style; the organ as a whole is highly eclectic, speaking with a sturdy sound and a wide range of color and tone on its 69 ranks.

Bach’s Concerto in C Major after Johann Ernst, BWV 595, was a clean, spirited performance with just the right amount of rubato, followed by Buzard’s own transcription of Schubert’s Du bist die Ruh, D. 776, displaying strings and several beautiful solo stops (my favorite was the Great 4 Open Flute with tremolo), played with sweet sensitivity. Duruflé’s Scherzo, op. 2, showed more of this instrument’s variety and range.

In Percy Whitlock’s Five Short Pieces, the Allegretto used the many flute stops. The Great Harmonic Flute was featured as a solo accompanied by the Choir strings. We also heard the Swell Trompette in the tenor range. Paean featured the Major Tuba 8 stop (on 15 inches of wind), quite thrilling. We then sang Stephen Buzard’s arrangement of the hymn “How shall I sing that majesty” (Coe Fen, a marvelous tune). The time he spent in England was very much evident in his style of playing. Prelude, Elegy and Scherzo by Carlyle Sharpe (b. 1965) was commissioned for this convention by Rodney Holmes. Stephen used many beautiful solo stops in Elegy, beginning with a sad little song on the Choir’s Cor Anglais, then a tiny Cornet, the Corno di Bassetto, and this organ’s beautiful strings. The lively Scherzo for organ and brass is a good addition to the repertoire. 

Stephen Buzard ended this superb recital with Jeanne Demessieux’s Te Deum, op. 11, easily communicating the profound nature of this music, all very splendid. We heard this fine organ play music from many different periods and national styles with ease—and Stephen Buzard is someone to watch!

The grand finale of the convention was a visit to the Place de la Musique in Barrington Hills, Illinois. It has the world’s largest collection of restored automatic musical instruments, the largest theatre organ in the world (5m, 80 ranks), and is also the private residence of Mr. and Mrs. Jasper Sanfilippo. The 46-acre complex includes an enormous shed that houses most of the mechanical instruments and a huge carousel. We ate a picnic supper amidst this collection, then soon made our way to the 44,000 square-foot house with its huge theatre organ in a massive auditorium big enough to hold the entire convention. The organ comes from many sources—some new, some vintage. There are four 32 ranks; the massive 32 Diaphone and Bombarde pipes line the walls on either side of the stage, as do the countless percussions, including a set of 32 Deagan Tower Bells, the largest of which we were told weighs 426 pounds! 

Our multi-talented recitalist, Jonathan Ortloff (looking quite snappy in his bright red socks), presented a highly entertaining program of mostly familiar music played with great style and good humor. We heard the theme from Family Guy, some sweet salutes to the late Henry Mancini (Charade and Moon River), a bit of nostalgia for those of us of a certain age, “Puffin’ Billy” (or as I remember it, the theme from Captain Kangaroo). The Trolley Song used all manner of percussion sounds, which raised the roof! Ortloff’s transcription of Stravinsky’s L’Oiseaux de Feu (Tableau II) showed great skill. I really admire his generation of organists who have become so adept at the art of transcription. He ended with An American in Paris, which was great fun. But the part of the recital that left us all in pain with laughter was the hymn “Earth and All Stars” (Dexter), one not exactly on my list of favorites. The text is unintentionally humorous—I cannot get past “loud boiling test tubes” with a straight face. On this huge organ, Jonathan was able to illustrate each turn of phrase in sound effects that were hilarious and a perfect end to the evening. 

This was a very good convention. Instruments, recitals, performers, lecturers—the great variety never left us bored. Buses were agreeable, respectful of our needs, on time, and quiet during recitals. Food was filling and good, and the publications (Atlas, Handbook, and Hymnlet) were beautifully produced, with wonderful content. (Good companions to the above would be Pipe Organs of Chicago, Vols. 1 and 2, by Stephen Schnurr and Dennis Northway. Gorgeous photographs, specifications, and histories of each building and instrument will keep you entertained for hours.) This was the third OHS convention in Chicago; we certainly saw and heard a breadth and depth of pipe organ beauty that other cities would be more than pleased to have. We were treated with great humor and kindness all week long. The committee did an outstanding job! Bravo, Chicago! “It’s my kind of town.” 

The 2013 convention is in beautiful Vermont: http://www.organsociety.org/2013/. See you there!

 

 

Photo credit: William T. Van Pelt, III

 

East Texas Pipe Organ Festival, November 14–17, 2011

Michael Fox

Michael Alan Fox is a retired bookseller and publisher who reviewed organ records for The Absolute Sound for 15 years. Growing up in San Francisco, he fell in love with Aeolian-Skinners while listening to Richard Purvis at Grace Cathedral; and as a disciple of Maurice John Forshaw—Jean Langlais’ first American pupil—he has an unshakable faith in seamless legato. He is organist of All Saints Episcopal Church in Hillsboro, Oregon.

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The East Texas Pipe Organ Festival took place November 14–17 in and around Kilgore, Texas, and was one of the best organ-related gatherings I have ever attended. This was largely because of two men: Roy Perry, the former organist-choirmaster of the First Presbyterian Church of Kilgore, and Texas representative for Aeolian-Skinner; and Lorenz Maycher, the current Kilgore incumbent, and devoted historian of Aeolian-Skinner, who decided that Perry’s achievements deserved wider recognition.

 

Harrison & Perry

Admirers of the company know that
G. Donald Harrison held Perry’s work—and zany humor—in high esteem, and the Texas instruments that were installed by the Williams family of New Orleans and finished by Perry have a special place in the hierarchy of Aeolian-Skinner organs. (See “The Williams Family of New Orleans: Installing and Maintaining Aeolian-Skinner Organs,” by Lorenz Maycher, The Diapason, May 2006.) Perry’s own organ in Kilgore was featured prominently in the King of Instruments recordings that the company released to promote its organs, and the slightly larger sister organ in Longview was used by Catharine Crozier to make two important recordings of American organ music. If for no other reason, the Kilgore organ would have its place in history as the organ that introduced the chamade trumpet to America, perhaps a cause for sorrowful head-shaking to many.

Fashions changed in the following decades, and many regarded the American Classic ideal as unsatisfactory eclecticism, and it must be said that even before Harrison’s death that approach seemed to be narrowing its scope even as it was narrowing its scales, and some notable instruments came to be deprecated or ignored—or, worse, rebuilt.

Through these decades, some organists continued to maintain that the Roy Perry organs were very special. He figured prominently in Charles Callahan’s histories of Aeolian-Skinner, with letters to and from G. Donald Harrison. Inevitably, tastes changed yet again, and some of the Romantic aspects of Perry’s designs once again could be seen as reflections of a good musical sense rather than deviations from classical ideals. But the piney woods of east Texas are a long way from big musical centers, and mostly the instruments sat ignored by the larger world. One of them had even fallen on hard times, and due to changing worship styles was sitting unused.

I was enough of a dedicated admirer of G. Donald Harrison organs that I had occasional retirement fantasies about jumping in the car and heading on a long diagonal trek from the Douglas firs of the Northwest to the loblolly pines of Texas and actually hearing those two organs. For one reason or another, the fantasy trek never happened; and so when I read the announcement of this East Texas Pipe Organ Festival I signed up immediately. It ran from a Monday evening opening concert through Thursday evening, three non-stop days and nights.

The festival was essentially on the scale of an unusually good AGO regional, but it really was the work of one man with whatever support he may have asked for and received from others; those are details of which I know nothing. But however Lorenz Maycher made it happen, the organization was impressive. There were 50 or 60 attendees, a comfortable and convenient headquarters hotel, a
giant bus, catered meals that were never less than good and in the case of a gumbo dinner, just terrific, organs that had been freshly tuned (and because of some odd swings in the weather, even retuned), hospitable churches, and first-rate recitalists. For arranging this tribute to Roy Perry, Lorenz Maycher undoubtedly earned himself a place in the ongoing Aeolian-Skinner saga.

 

Opening concert

The opening concert was at First Presbyterian in Kilgore, and the program repeated the content of Roy Perry’s original recording, “Music of the Church,” Volume Ten in the King of Instruments series. A choir of some 30 voices was conducted by Frances Anderson, who as an Austin College student had sung on the original record. After the appropriate opening hymn (Engelberg), the choir, accompanied by Robert Brewer, sang Parry’s I Was Glad, Ireland’s Greater Love Hath No Man, and Vaughan Williams’s setting of Old Hundredth. Practical considerations led to the substitution of Elgar’s The Spirit of the Lord Is upon Me for David McK. Williams’s In the Year That King Uzziah Died, and following the congregational singing of St. Clement, Lorenz Maycher played Bruce Simonds’s Iam sol recedit igneus, the only organ solo on the original record. 

The concert set the tone for the festival perfectly. First Presbyterian is not a huge church—I’d guess that it seats around 300—and even though seat cushions had been removed, it is not a particularly live room. It is not a hostile building: music is clear and well balanced there, but it gets very little enhancement, so the organ’s glory is of its own making. It didn’t take long for that glory to be evident, as Robert Brewer accompanied the choir superbly. The Parry was tremendously exciting, even without the “Vivats”, and that first Trompette-en-chamade is still one of the very best examples, a well-nigh perfect balance of brilliance and body, just loud enough to dominate.

As I heard throughout that concert, and in the succeeding events in that church, Roy Perry’s own organ, Aeolian-Skinner opus 1173, embodies that kind of musical balance in any number of voices. Uniquely, I think, among instruments carrying the G. Donald Harrison signature plate, it is only “rebuilt” by Harrison, since it started life as a Möller, and much of the structure and even pipework (including the notable French Horn) remains from its origin. This perhaps makes Roy Perry’s achievement as a tonal finisher even more notable, because this instrument of 69 ranks is versatile and elegant beyond description. Other Harrisons that I have heard and loved—Grace Cathedral, Church of the Advent, St. John the Divine, etc.—owe something of their effect to their glorious buildings. Kilgore does it all on its own, and I left the concert convinced that I had just heard one of the world’s truly great organs.

 

Tuesday, November 15

The following day offered more opportunities to hear just how versatile the Kilgore organ is, as Maycher, former organist Jimmy Culp (who two days later was honored by the grateful church as its Organist Emeritus), and Casey Cantwell played organ works particularly associated with Opus 1173: Dreams, by Hugh McAmis; Christos Patterakis, by Roy Perry; A Solemn Melody, by Walford Davies; Nun komm der Heiden Heiland, by Bach; Introduction, Passacaglia and Fugue, by Healey Willan; Alleluia, by Charles Callahan; Songs of Faith and Penitence, and Requiescat in Pace, by Leo Sowerby; and The Way to Emmaus, by Jaromir Weinberger.

There were also reminiscences of Roy Perry, as there were later in the week; by my reckoning he would have emerged as the undisputed champion in an all-time contest of Readers’ Digest Most Unforgettable Characters. Attendees learned that his lovely Christos Patterakis was named not for some obscure Orthodox melody, but for an obscure name he saw on a local election campaign poster in California; his irreverence and impishness were as fully developed as his ear for proper pipe speech. For me the highlight among all this music-making was the performance of Weinberger’s solo cantata The Way to Emmaus for soprano and organ. Anneliese von Goerken did a lovely job on the demanding vocal part (it concludes on a pianissimo high A after 22 pages of very chromatic writing); Maycher showed off opus 1173 as no less spectacular an accompanying instrument. 

The Weinberger cantata for years was a tradition on Easter afternoon at Riverside Church, and I have retained a vivid memory of hearing Louise Natale and Fred Swann perform it in the late 1970s. The Kilgore organ was easily the equal of the Riverside giant in providing all of the color required. (I missed only the few Chimes strikes that Swann added; Maycher was faithful to Weinberger’s score.) Part of the magic and the versatility comes from the enclosure of most of the Great, which is both a Great (a splendid Principal chorus, with three mixtures including one that caps full organ in much the same way as the famous
Terzzymbel at Washington Cathedral) and a Solo, with an English Horn and a French Horn to go with an eloquent Flute Harmonique. With some very imaginative thinking, Roy Perry transcended the limits of the usual three-manual instrument and enabled it to be a giant in flexibility.

Later in the afternoon, Casey Cantwell demonstrated another approach Roy Perry took: at St. Luke’s United Methodist Church in Kilgore, opus 1175, he designed a very substantial instrument in a smallish room, but laid it out on two very complete manuals rather than the expected three. The Great, again partially enclosed, is almost enormous at 18 ranks; and the Swell has a chamade Trompette in addition to the usual reed chorus. In a dead room it seems like a recipe for disaster, but Casey Cantwell, moving on from having played the Willan Introduction, Passacaglia and Fugue on Opus 1173 in the morning, demonstrated that Perry knew what he was doing. It played the Bach Prelude and Fugue in E-flat well enough for these ears, and did a thrilling job with the John Cook Fanfare. The program also included Harold Darke’s Meditation on “Brother James’s Air,” Two Meditations on “Herzliebster Jesu” by Mark Jones, and Bach’s Adagio Cantabile arranged by Roy Perry. Cantwell improvised on some hymns, giving the attendees a chance to sing along as the themes were presented, and it was a model church organ in supporting congregational singing. And my fears at seeing those trumpets aimed at us were unfounded; they, and the organ, were just right. In an ideal world you might hope for a livelier room, but working in the real world Perry delivered a very satisfying and completely musical organ.

In the evening, Brett Valliant demonstrated further capabilities of Opus 1173 by using it to accompany a Harold Lloyd film, but I can’t comment on whether that worked or not, since I decided to save my energy for the late night cash bar, where more Roy Perry stories abounded. There sure are some great storytellers in Texas.

 

Wednesday, November 16

The following day the giant bus made the 70-mile trip east to Shreveport, where the group enjoyed the hospitality of the historic Shreveport Scottish Rite Temple, having lunch and dinner in a distinguished dining room. Upstairs in the 500-seat auditorium we heard Charles Callahan demonstrate the sounds of the 1917–1921 four-manual Pilcher, some voices of which weren’t available. Like all such fraternal orders, it faces an aging and declining membership; the preservation of their remarkable buildings, which are usually among the notable structures in every city where they are found, should be yet another cause to which organists might rally.

The major attraction in Shreveport was St. Mark’s Cathedral, Roy Perry’s largest installation. It was designed by G. Donald Harrison in conjunction with Perry and William Teague, then fresh out of the Curtis Institute and embarking on a long career at the cathedral, but it was not built until the Whiteford years. The festival’s visit to the cathedral was preceded by a session of further reminiscences of Perry at St. Mark’s former building, now the Church of the Holy Cross, where a 1920 E. M. Skinner was rebuilt by Aeolian-Skinner in 1949. William Teague—“Uncle Billy” to Roy Perry, and I suppose now about 90 (see “William Teague awarded Doctor of Fine Arts degree by Centenary College,” The Diapason, October 2011, p. 10)—was the star of the show, with a flood of stories that illustrated both Perry’s care for music, as when he sent pipes from the Kilgore strings back to Boston so that the scales could be duplicated for Teague’s organ then in the shop, and his wild sense of humor.

The St. Mark’s organ sounded particularly lovely in Charles Callahan’s prelude to the Evensong service, an atmospheric improvisation that hung in the air like wisps of incense. Following Evensong, Robert McCormick played a recital that started with a particularly colorful performance of the Elgar Sonata, and included three improvisations by Pierre Cochereau, reconstructed by Jeanne Joulain; McNeil Robinson’s Prelude on Llanfair, and Larry King’s Fanfares to the Tongues of Fire; the program ended with an improvisation on submitted themes. The cathedral has a generous acoustic, and the organ sounds like a vintage Perry right up to the point that the big reeds come on. I may be in a minority, but the Solo Major Trumpet unit was the first less-than-beautiful reed I had heard, and the Trompette-en-chamade in the Gallery ranks with that thing at the back of Riverside Church as the ugliest specimen I’ve experienced, and although I wasn’t carrying an SPL meter to be exact about it, I think it was brighter and nastier. I’ll bet Roy Perry would have agreed with me. But the unpleasantness was washed away later back at the hotel by an excellent martini—“Mother’s Milk” in Perry-speak. 

Thursday, November 17

The third day started with a little jewel, the 22-rank opus 1153A in the First Baptist Church of Nacogdoches. Roy Perry priorities are made clear by the presence of two celestes in a small two-manual, and again the organ fits the church like a dream. The church itself was an odd amalgam: distinctive stained glass windows and this vintage American Classic organ on the one hand, a full drum kit opposite the console and a light bridge that would be adequate for a good regional theatre on the other. In any case, Joseph Causby did a great job with a varied program from Bach to Locklair—that last being a substitution that allowed us to hear some very nice Chimes, again a voice found in most Perry organs. No snob, he . . . The program: Bach, Pièce d’Orgue, BWV 572, O Mensch bewein dein Sünde gross; Hindemith, Sonata I; Thalben-Ball, Tune in E; Duruflé, Scherzo, op. 2; Howells, Psalm Prelude, set 1, no. 3; and Guilmant, Final (Symphony No. 1 in D Minor). 

And the day continued in glory. I had gotten Catharine Crozier’s recordings from Longview in my teen years, but I wasn’t prepared for the size and magnificence of the building. It is like no other church I have seen, Gothic stripped down to the essential pointed arch and built in yellow brick on a grand scale. The window at the east end of the church is 66 high by 16 wide, and that reflects the sheer verticality of the design. The organ, Opus 1174, sits in chambers on either side of that lofty chancel, and Charles Callahan demonstrated its 85 ranks in a fascinating recital, mostly of unfamiliar pieces that I’m sure were chosen to show off every aspect of the organ: Wallace Sabin, Bourée in the olden style; Bach, Fantasie con Imitazione, All glory be to God on high, Lord God, now open wide Thy heavens, We all believe in one God; Cimarosa, Sonata IX; Handel, Andante; Paradies, Sicilienne; Gounod, Marche Nuptiale; Salomé, Villanelle; Jongen, Pastorale; Foote, Night–A Meditation, op. 61; Callahan, Three Gospel Preludes, Three Spirituals from Spiritual Suite, Fanfares and Riffs. It sounded wonderful in that huge room, a more sympathetic acoustic than Kilgore, and Opus 1174, wide open, filled it perfectly, the 8 and 4 Trompettes and Cornet of the Bombarde division being ideal climax reeds—but its quiet Romantic voices were just as effective. It is sad to think that the organ had fallen into disuse for some years and then was severely damaged by catastrophic leaks, but it is a cause for rejoicing that the church repaired and restored one of the real monuments of American Classic organbuilding.

The final event was a recital back at Kilgore by Richard Elliott, one of the masters of the Mormon Tabernacle Organ: Handel, La Rejouissance (Music for the Royal Fireworks); Bach, In dir ist Freude, BWV 615, Passacaglia in C Minor, BWV 582; Daquin, The Cuckoo; Widor, Andante sostenuto (Symphonie gothique, op. 70); Gawthrop, Sketchbook I; Elliot, Sing praise to God who reigns above, Be Thou my vision, Swing low, sweet chariot; Wagner, arr. Lemare, The Ride of the Valkyries. I’m sure the church elders were gratified to hear someone who daily plays an organ almost three times the size speak of how thrilled he was to be playing the Kilgore organ for the first time! In turn he managed to thrill the large audience, first with a superb performance of the Bach Passacaglia in the grand manner (every line of counterpoint there to be heard, but also every ounce of drama and passion—not the sort of effect you can get from a start-to-finish forte plenum), and finally with an all-out Ride of the Valkyries, with that miraculous Trompette-en-chamade spurring the riders on. Very exciting stuff—an over-the-top ending to an exciting week.

I am boundlessly grateful to Lorenz Maycher for organizing this heartfelt tribute to Roy Perry and his instruments. I can’t imagine how many hours’ work must have gone into planning all of the necessary arrangements and making everything work so smoothly. The music came first, but it was accompanied by good food and comfortable accommodations, and lots and lots of late-night stories. If the festival is repeated, I’ll sign up the day it’s announced, and you should, too.

Amidst the glorious music and the fun, there was an occasion for solemn reflection when the bus en route to Shreveport stopped to visit Roy Perry’s grave. His last years were difficult, and his death was tragic. His final resting place is in the family cemetery of the Crims, the local eminences who had built the church, donated the organ, and supported Perry’s musical education. His gravestone reads, “Music, once admitted to a soul, becomes a spirit and never dies.” Amen! 

 

 

On Teaching

Gavin Black

Gavin Black is director of the Princeton Early Keyboard Center

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Hard pieces and 

recalcitrant passages

This month I am writing about the phenomenon of pieces being difficult and the related phenomenon of specific passages being hard to learn: either difficult by any standard or surprisingly difficult—for reasons that may seem elusive—for a particular student. This is not a very systematic or methodological discussion: just a few ideas—almost just random thoughts—that I think are interesting or that may help some students or teachers. 

We all believe that some pieces are harder to learn or to perform than other pieces. This—just as a basic fact—is probably as close to uncontroversial as anything gets in the field of music and music teaching in general, or of organ-playing and organ teaching in particular. We don’t necessarily all agree as to which pieces are more difficult and which less so. Most of us, from our own experiences as players and from what we have seen with our own students or other performers, know that different pieces or sorts of pieces are more or less difficult for different players, and at different times in one player’s career.

 

Repertoire in order of difficulty

When I first acquired copies of one or two volumes of the Peters edition of the Bach organ music—in about 1971, at the age of about fourteen—I noticed that the separately bound Preface included a listing of all of the (non-chorale based) pieces arranged according to difficulty. I was excited about this, since it seemed both useful and authoritative. I allowed it to influence what pieces I chose to work on—though not in a logical or consistent way. Sometimes I would choose a piece because I thought it was easy enough to be within my grasp, sometimes I would spurn and reject pieces that were described as being “easy,” because I thought that working on them would be sort of embarrassing, classifying me as “not very good.” Needless to say, this was all rather silly. 

I did continue for a long time—after my studying had become at least a bit more systematic and effective—to cast sneaky glances at the list out of the corner of my eye. I would pat myself on the back just a little a bit whenever I put in some work on a piece in the top half or so of the difficulty scale. I pretty much stopped doing this when Eugene Roan, with whom I had by then started taking lessons, mentioned casually to me one day that an eminent recitalist he know thought that piece x was much more difficult than piece y—the opposite order from the Peters list. This introduced me to the idea that this whole difficulty thing could be relative, though at that point in my career I couldn’t have said how or why this might be so. 

 

Reger and Straube

Another way that the concept of difficulty as a kind of independent variable in pieces of music came to my attention when I was first getting interested in organ was through hearing the story of Max Reger and Karl Straube. The idea was that Reger had made his organ pieces more and more difficult in the hope of writing something that Straube, his good friend who was also the leading German organ virtuoso of the time, would be unable to play. It was also said that he never succeeded: that Straube “won.” There are a couple of interesting things about this. One is that, of course, it is trivially easy to write a piece that is unplayable, if that is really all that you want to do. All that you need to do is to write notes that are too far apart in compass to reach.  The music does not have to be particularly complex or intricate or fast. However, a piece that is really unplayable will, in fact, not be played. That is never in any composer’s interest. Not surprisingly, composers—whether they are writing for Karl Straube or not—tend to approach daringly close to that “unplayable” line, and then to decide not to cross it. This is as true of a composer like Beethoven, who stated bluntly that he didn’t care what performers could or couldn’t do, as it is of composers like Bach or Franck, whose keyboard compositions arose out of their own work as performers and improvisers. 

It is also interesting that Straube—as a student, before he had met Reger in person—was in fact drawn to Reger’s music in part because it was first presented to him as being too difficult to play. Straube’s teacher Heinrich Reimann showed him Reger’s then very recently published Suite in E Minor, op. 16, telling him that it was unplayable. This seems to have motivated Straube to learn it, which may or may not have been Reimann’s intention all along. I myself, when I was still more-or-less a student, occasionally started to work on a piece because someone had said to me that I could not learn it. (This was never, in my case, one of my own teachers.) I always learned something valuable from the attempt, although it did not necessarily result in my mastering the piece in question at that time.

 

Aspects of difficulty 

When we talk about a piece’s being very difficult, we are almost always talking about the learning and reliable playing of the notes: the right notes, in the right order, at a suitable tempo. That is not to say that anyone denies that other aspects of playing a piece can be difficult. In fact, performing even a simple piece in such a way that it is extraordinarily compelling, beautiful, interesting, thought-provoking, disturbing, whatever we want it to be, is probably as hard and (at least) as rarely achieved as playing a difficult piece competently. However, that is indeed a different thing. When students ask whether the Goldberg Variations or the Dupré Prelude and Fugue in G Minor is too hard for them, they are rarely inquiring about whether the teacher thinks that they can project the deepest meaning of the piece effectively. Of course, there is always this relationship between what might for the sake of simplicity be called the two types of difficulty: that the better-learned the notes of a piece can become for a given player—the closer the piece can come to feeling easy once it has been learned—the more of a chance there is that a performance can also be musically effective.

The piece that I happen to have been practicing the most in the week or so before I sat down to write this column is the “In Nomine” by John Bull that is found in volume 1 of The Fitzwilliam Virginal Book. The makers of a list like the Peters Bach organ repertoire list would probably put this piece at the easy end of “moderate” or the somewhat high end of “easy.” It is in three voices throughout, but none of the voices is very busy or intricate. For much of the piece the middle voice lies in such a way that it could be taken by either hand, so there is a fair amount of fingering flexibility. It is (though this is obviously subjective) not a piece that many people would think should go very fast: certainly not fast enough to make playing it into an athletic challenge—which some of Bull’s pieces are. This is a piece that I used to play a lot and, as best I can remember, I did indeed initially choose it because it was not too athletic. Bull’s Walsingham or King’s Hunt would have seemed beyond me many years ago. However, it occurs to me that this piece is a good illustration of the relationship between note-learning difficulty and tempo. There is—literally—a set of tempos at which this short Bull piece would be harder to play than the Reger Opus 16: that is, a mind-bendingly fast tempo for the Bull and a glacial tempo for the Reger. In order to achieve my inverting of the difficulty of these two pieces, the tempos would have to be so extreme that they would both be well outside what anyone would ever do. However, within a more realistic range of performance tempos, the Bull can become a virtuoso challenge of its own, and the Reger can move from the “impossible” all the way down to the “very hard.”

 

Difficult passages

Many pieces that have a reputation for being very hard are as difficult as their reputations suggest only in spots. For example, the Bach F-major Toccata is considered one of his hardest organ pieces. It earned a very high place on “the list”—maybe at the very top, certainly close. However, long stretches of the piece are really not hard at all. The opening has nothing going on in the pedal, and the two manual lines are somewhat intricate, but not remotely beyond the bounds of the “intermediate” for anyone. Then there is a pedal solo, which is also quite learnable. The following two pages are essentially a recap of this opening: carefully designed by the always pedagogically aware composer to be a bit longer and a bit trickier than the opening itself, but similar in nature. Then, beginning at about the fifth page, the hands and feet start moving together, and things get more complex. Still, however, the notes fall into place quite naturally. Most players I know who have worked on this piece report that this section yields nicely to practicing and is not more difficult than other Bach prelude-type pieces. It is the three brief passages that involve the return of the opening motif of the piece, this time in manuals and pedal together, that seem really hair-raising to many of those who work on the piece. This is not everyone’s experience, but it is a common one. Other very difficult pieces can be analyzed this way as well: perhaps most of them. In the Goldberg Variations, for another example, probably about eighty percent of the writing is no more difficult than the average for The Well-tempered Clavier or Handel harpsichord suites. That is not, by any standards, “easy.” But it is the remaining fifth or so of the work that gives it its reputation as “only for advanced players.”

One source of difficulty in working on pieces of music is unfamiliarity with a particular style or the technical tendencies of a particular type of music. Ralph Kirkpatrick, in his preface to his edition of sixty Scarlatti sonatas, first outlines a set of rigorous ideas about how to work on the sonatas, both as to analysis and as to practicing. Then he says that if a student approaches six sonatas this thoroughly he or she will not have to do the same with the next sonata or later ones. The particular shapes of a given kind of music become ingrained. I myself, as a player who has worked more on Baroque music than on anything else, find it much easier both to sight-read and to learn Baroque pieces—even complex and difficult ones—than music from a later era. To me this suggests patience. If a student is working on his or her first piece from a particular genre or style or time period, then that piece is going to be harder than the next one will be. That should not be surprising.

 

Practice strategies

If a student is interested in working on a piece that seems too hard, I am extremely committed to letting him or her do so and to making it work. The first step for me is to try to figure out whether the difficulty is found in a few spots or more or less throughout. This affects learning strategy. In the first instance, I will suggest to the student that we break the piece up and completely abandon any thought that it is one unified piece—just for the time being of course, but with a lack of impatience as to how long that time will be. Then the easier—more “normal”—parts can be practiced and learned in a “normal” way, systematically and carefully, along the lines that I have written about before. The extremely hard passages can be treated as intensive exercises: analyzed, taken apart, put back together and practiced to within an inch of their lives. 

A piece that is quite difficult—perhaps too difficult for the student—and of much the same difficulty throughout simply needs to be taken apart and practiced well. The key here is to make sure that the student understands what the process will feel like. Anyone can practice anything effectively if it is kept slow enough. In this context, the meaning of a piece’s being “too hard” is simply that working on it correctly will take a long time. Would the student rather work on this piece for a very long time, or postpone it, work on other pieces in the meantime, and wait to work on the proposed piece later? This is simply a matter of what the student prefers: either approach is fine for helping him or her to become a more accomplished player. 

In fact, it can be perfectly useful and helpful for a student to work on a challenging piece even if he or she never really learns it—assuming that the failure to learn it is of the right sort. If the goal is to perform a piece then, by definition, that piece must be practiced until it is learned and secure and ready to go. However, if the goal is to use the process of working on a piece to become a better player in the long run, then it doesn’t matter whether the time put in practicing that piece is followed by more time with that same piece (eventually leading to its being learned) or by practicing a new piece. The choice to practice a hard piece up to a certain point and then let it go is perfectly acceptable, assuming that the student is happy with it, and understands that it is a process, not a failure. And of course, that same piece will be there for the student to come back to later. In fact, the first round of work on the piece will leave that piece in very good shape to be picked up again later: it will probably even get better during any time that the student takes off from it. It will be sinking into the subconscious mind. The only technical requirement for this approach to be fruitful is that the work done on the piece—or any section of it—be accurate and technically sound, but below tempo. If the piece is put aside in this way, it should be put aside at a slow tempo but otherwise exactly as it should be.

 

Gavin Black is director of the Princeton Early Keyboard Center. He can be reached by e-mail at [email protected]. A selection of Gavin Black’s organ performances can now be heard on YouTube by searching on his name at the YouTube website.

 

Apprenticing with Herman Schlicker

Joseph E. Robinson

Joseph E. Robinson received his B.A. from California State University at Long Beach and his M.A. from Occidental College in Los Angeles. He studied piano with Charles Shepherd, and organ with Clarence Mader, Paul Stroud, and Robert Prichard. He studied choral conducting with Frank Pooler and Howard Swan. During 1970–71 he was an organbuilding apprentice with the Schlicker Organ Co. under the direction of Herman Schlicker. He was organist at the University United Methodist Church in Buffalo, New York, and later St. James’ United Methodist Church in Pasadena, California. Now a retired business systems analyst, he is currently organist for the Mission Lake Ward, Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. His interest in pipe organs and their music was sparked years ago when, as a sixth grade student, his class was taken on a field trip to a recital on the Mormon Tabernacle Organ. He has been married 35 years to his wife Pat, who has given her support for the large pipe organ in their home. One day during construction Pat said, “You need help, and I have found just the help you need—G. Donald Harrison.” She had found a golden retriever named Harrison on a rescue site. Harrison is now a happy member of the family.

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I meet Herman Schlicker  

After completing a master’s degree, I talked over options with my teacher, Robert Prichard. Since I was very interested in all things related to pipe organs, a career in organbuilding looked promising. Mr. Prichard was well acquainted with Herman Schlicker, and broached the subject of my joining his firm as an apprentice. Schlicker was not interested. He said that the best apprentices come right out of high school and he had bad luck with those who had master’s degrees.   

Herr Schlicker flew to Southern California on business, and so it was arranged that while he was here I would be his chauffeur. One stop that I remember was at what is now the Crystal Cathedral. Their first building contained a small Wicks organ, which was to be replaced with a substantial instrument. Schlicker was among the contenders. At another stop, I was disgusted with the way they treated Mr. Schlicker—didn’t they realize they were talking with a great man?

After our final stop, Schlicker said to come on to Buffalo, and I would be their newest apprentice. I drove my red Corvair across the country and rented a room from Mrs. Herbst, who had rented to many a Schlicker apprentice. She asked us to keep our stereo playing of organ music down—it reminded her of her husband’s funeral. 

 

The factory

The factory is described in sales literature from the late 1960s:

 

From a modest beginning, the company has expanded to include 65 persons at the Buffalo factory-office, as well as sales and service representatives throughout the United States. The construction of the present modern factory was begun in 1947, and since that time six additions have been made to the building, giving a total working area of over 36,000 square feet, and including a spacious erecting room. 

 

That there was no master plan for this expansion from the beginning was obvious. For example, there was a large room devoted to lumber, that in most respects functioned well. However, there was no loading dock, or even a door to the outside. When a lumber truck came, Herr Friedrich (foreman) would announce “LUMBER!” and we would all drop what we were doing and rush to the truck to unload the lumber piece by piece and feed them through a window in the lumber room. On a cold winter day, that was a very unpleasant task.

 

Factory tours

Occasionally music committees or groups of organists would tour the factory. I was among those selected to conduct the tours. At first I would meet visitors at the door and then physically take them through the building, saying this is where we do this, and this is where we do that. Then I witnessed a tour led by Manuel Rosales, who was then at Schlicker Organ Co. He started at the melting pot in the pipe shop, went step by step in the construction of an organ, ending in the erecting room. Even though there was some crisscrossing in that method, it explained the organbuilding process better, and I changed my approach accordingly.  

 

Organization chart

When Schlicker described the apprentice position to me, he said that I would work in all aspects of organbuilding and eventually be able to do any task. In fact, his factory was full of workers that could do any task. He was proud of that. So, organization was simple: Herman Schlicker, President; Ken List, Vice President; Herr Friedrich, Foreman; organ builders, and apprentice, with a few exceptions such as the accountant. In practice, however, people would tend to gravitate to that which they did best. Take Don Bohall, for example. In many organizations, he would be referred to as Service Manager. He could quickly diagnose and fix problems, clearly the best man to call if an organ under the ten-year warranty experienced an unexpected malfunction. I asked Don how he managed to be exempt from the lumber calls. He told me that after I had been there a few years and made myself valuable in a particular operation I could announce that I was no longer going to do lumber. But I would have to be sure I was valuable enough. Some who tried that too soon were no longer doing lumber or anything else at the firm.  

 

Apprentice duties

The apprentice program at Schlicker’s was more typical of the German apprentice system than what we are used to in the USA. The view at the Schlicker Organ Company was: we pay you for this time and so you do whatever we ask of you, be it sweeping, cleaning messes, painting walls, or shoveling snow! So this, I thought, is why people who have worked so hard for a master’s degree don’t like it here. I was told a story of one such, who after driving from California worked one day, got in his car and drove back home. One unhappy apprentice had given the place a nickname “Stalag 15-30” [the address was 1530 Military Road]. Stories of this nature were a kind of unofficial initiation exam. 

 

Information on a need-to-know basis

At graduate school, you are filled with information and encouraged to ask questions and find answers. There were many things I wanted to know. For example, on most three-manual Schlicker organs, the pedal contains a unit 16–8 principal rank, but the 16 and 8-foot stopped flutes are always separate ranks. How come? I learned that awhile before my arrival, some former employees had stolen plans, records, scalings, and materials—everything they needed to make copies of Schlicker organs. So Mr. Schlicker was now cautious in sharing information, and an apprentice is at the bottom of the totem pole in need-to-know. 

I got my lecture in Schlicker organ design in a most unexpected way. One holiday season, there was in the factory a 32 Bombarde, which was to be placed in an organ previously finished with that stop prepared for. Schlicker had placed a small two-rank unit organ in a Buffalo bank for publicity purposes. Since I could play, I was assigned to play Christmas music on the little organ while the bank was open. One day after the bank closed, I returned to the factory, where I was greeted by Ken List. Ken said, “So how is Merry Christmas on the Gedeckt?” I responded, “Well, it’s OK, but that little organ really lacks a proper foundation. Too bad we could not have hooked up that 32 Bombarde with it.”  

Schlicker overheard the conversation, and while I thought anyone would recognize that I was being outlandishly facetious, Schlicker thought I was serious that the third rank in an organ should be a 32 Bombarde. “You are there representing the Schlicker Organ Company,” he said. “You know nothing. A lot has to happen in an organ before you include a 32 Bombarde.” So I heard all about small to medium to large organs in a very informative lecture, though I could have done without the frequent “You know nothing” comments.  

 

A wiring error

An electro-pneumatic organ was being set up for testing. There was a testing wiring harness used for such purposes. I said, “I have never done this before; there are surely a lot of wires here.” I was told, “There is nothing to it, just start here at the end, and take each wire in sequence.” So I did, but it was the wrong end. Final result was that low C sounded from the highest note on the keyboard and vice versa. I started to play a hymn. “What on earth are you doing?” “I thought I might never again have the opportunity to hear music inverted and wanted to see what it sounds like.” “You idiot, why don’t you just broadcast to the world what a fool you are!” So I stopped abruptly. Fortunately this was the testing wiring harness and not the organ’s permanent wiring.

 

A bright and dim bulb

Sometimes my education was of use. When something unusual came along, such as “What the heck is an 8/9 None?,” I would know the answer. There was a fine older gentleman, whose name I unfortunately no longer remember, who was in charge of Schlicker consoles. He would review with me console layouts, controls, order of stops, etc. He said, “You know much more than those guys. You should be recognized for your knowledge and taken off the lumber run.” Obviously I liked him. On the other hand, as the wiring example shows, in construction matters I was a rookie. One day I was assigned to a task and heard rumblings, “I don’t know why they assigned HIM this task. HE doesn’t even know how to use a HAM-MER.” The speaker usually got this task. Since in this case it was an overtime task, I was robbing him of time-and-a-half pay. Welcome to the world of office politics. I did not like it, and was a rookie there as well. Fortunately for future employment I learned 1) never be cruel to someone and 2) never be the company scapegoat. 

 

Organ pipes

Most flue pipes were manufactured in the pipe shop. Reed pipes built to Schlicker specifications were imported from Europe. For flue pipes it was considered that for the vast majority of cases, such things as tuning scrolls, pipe slotting, and tuning collars were detrimental. Take tuning collars, for example. A tuning collar means that at the top of the pipe there is a sudden increase in scale. On bass pipes that were nearly cut to length, the effect is minimal. But on treble pipes, the distortion of pipe shape is considerable. Thus Schlicker organs had pipes cut to length and were cone tuned. This practice was one reason why Schlicker mixtures had outstanding cohesion with the principal chorus.  

 

The Schlicker sound

Open-toe voicing, low wind pressure, low cutups, etc. are only part of the story. It is well known that some Aeolian-Skinner contracts, such as the Mormon Tabernacle and Grace Cathedral, specified that G. Donald Harrison do the final voicing. It is the artist who does the finishing that gives an organ its distinctive sound; thus organs of the same manufacturer may sound different depending upon who does the finishing. At the Schlicker Company, we had two superb voicers who finished at least the more important instruments. Wally Guzowski voiced with a bold, fresh, exciting sound. I decided that someday I would like him to voice my residence organ when I could afford such. Louis Rothenberger Jr. had a more elegant, refined sound. [We always specified the Jr. because LR senior had also been a voicer.] 

They were aware that their styles were different, and Wally told me that they worked together to try and make a uniform result. There should be a specific sound quality associated with the brand. These men produced some instruments of distinction. As voicers, they would physically adjust pipes. As finishers in the final location, they would sit at the console, playing through a rank of pipes, pick a note and shout a command to someone like me in the pipes: “Lower the languid,” “Pull the upper lip forward,” “Narrow the windway,” “Increase the cutup,” and so forth.

 

Deterioration of the Schlicker sound 

As years have passed, I have noticed that some of my favorite instruments no longer have the magic they possessed when they were new. More is involved than just my ears getting older; recordings of the original instruments captured the magic. Here is what I think may have happened. Schlicker instruments were cone tuned and were very stable in tuning within themselves, but the whole instrument goes flat in winter and sharp in summer.

Take a fictitious organ service man Sam Cifodelance, for example. Sam gets a customer who has a Schlicker organ. He orders some tuning cones from a supply house. In winter, when the organ goes flat, he pounds the pipes with the pointed end of the tuning cones to bring the pitch up to A440. In summer, he pounds the pipes with the other end to bring the pipes down to A440. Over time this attention alters pipe mouth dimensions slightly, and what was an outstanding sound becomes an ordinary sound. 

This theory is an educated guess, but I do know that who does the servicing makes a huge difference, is a concern of organbuilders, and improper servicing deteriorates an organ’s sound. It saddens me that some of my favorite instruments have deteriorated. 

 

Schlicker’s bias

Bad for Aeolian-Skinner, but providential for Herman Schlicker was the rise in popularity of the Orgelbewegung. With his strong German accent and experience in German organbuilding, he was in an ideal place to be the foremost American builder in that style. I discussed with Schlicker a trip to Europe I was going to take. We went through the German instruments I was going to see. “Yah, you must see that,” he would say. For Holland, “There are some good things there.” For France, “A waste of time.”  

 

The good consultants

One of the first things you do as an apprentice is to rack pipes on a windchest. Here were some pipes that looked like a double row of little milk cans with their lids soldered on top. This experimental rank had been specified by Paul Manz. Louie Rothenberger Jr. was having a very difficult time getting the pipes to speak at all. I made the comment, “I don’t see why we need organ consultants at all. A church should just choose a builder and let their expertise do the job.” Louie responded, “You are new here. You will eventually have the opportunity to visit many organs. When you do, compare those that were built under consultants such as Paul Manz, your teacher Clarence Mader, Paul Bunjes, E. Power Biggs and so forth, with those that had no consultant. I think you will find that our best organs had consultants such as these.” He was right!

When I was at Occidental College, I played among other things French Romantic organ music that I liked. I commented to my teacher Clarence Mader how well the Schlicker played that music. He replied, “Yes, you need French reeds to play that music and I requested that Schlicker include them in the Swell One division.” I bring this up because on his own, Herman Schlicker would not have given the Swell One division a French flavor. Somehow they managed to do that and yet have it integrate beautifully with the rest of the instrument, resulting in far greater versatility. The very best instruments somehow achieved a result of being more than the sum of their parts, a joy to play and to hear. 

 

The not-so-good consultants

These are the ones who think they know more about organbuilding than the organbuilder, specifying scales, wind pressures, mouth widths, voicing techniques and so forth. One such organ had so many conditions that the final result did not have the distinctive Schlicker sound. Herman Schlicker summed it up thus: “It might as well have been built by ———.” [I don’t know if ——— would want to claim it either.]

In finishing an organ, Wally Guzowski explained to me, “You have to be very diplomatic with the organists. When they tell you what they want, smile and nod your head like you agree with them.  When they are gone, disregard everything they said. Organists know nothing about organ finishing.” A quite common occurrence in finishing an organ would be the arrival of the organist with some last requests for what was going to be his instrument. At that time, it is too late. A successful finishing process brings out the maximum beauty a pipe was designed to give. An organist’s request to now make a German Principal more like a French Montre, for example, robs the instrument of its potential. That decision should have been made long before.1

 

Insubordination

I was given two rules, which probably came about due to prior difficulties with employees who were also organists: 1) When you are on an assignment do not play the organ, even during a break or after you are done. Customers are charged by the hour and we don’t want them to think they are paying for you to play the organ. 2) Because you may be called at any time to travel, do not accept a church organist position. It is not fair to the company, the church, or yourself. Rule 1 was difficult to manage; we worked on some beautiful instruments. But I did manage this rule in spite of working on some instruments I longed to play. 

 After arriving in Buffalo, each Sunday I visited various churches to see and hear organs and get a feeling of that particular church. One Sunday, I visited the University United Methodist Church. While certainly not the finest organ in town, the people were very friendly and when they discovered that I was from California and knew no one in town, they invited me to meals and made me feel at home and said, “You have friends here.” Shortly thereafter their organist moved away. “Do you play, Joe? Would you mind substituting for a while till we find a permanent organist?” A few Sundays later, “We want you to be our organist.” “Impossible—I can be called out of town at any time without notice.” “We can have someone fill in on the piano when that happens. Please be our organist.” It seemed like this would work; they knew I would leave without notice when Schlicker called. I would fulfill my obligation to him, and what he did not know would not hurt anyone. This happy arrangement continued for many months. 

I have a couple theories of how Ken List found out about this arrangement. “Joe, you have to tell Schlicker.” I dreaded that conversation, but I was caught, so I set up a time to meet with him. Schlicker told me he understood after all the time I had put into learning to play the organ that I would not want to just let the talent die. So he instructed me to resign and he would arrange for me to have practice time at his church, which had a very nice organ. As a naive young person, I thought as long as I can do my job, he has no business telling me what I can and can’t do on my own time. And there were many around me who encouraged that thinking. Perhaps more than the mundane tasks, this kind of thing is the reason Schlicker had trouble with master’s degree organists. In subsequent employment ‘my own time’ would be redefined by being on call 24/7 with aids such as beepers and later, cell phones. One boss would even follow me into a restroom stall. So now I see that Schlicker was at least trying to meet me half way. 

 

Money

Perhaps because organs are very expensive instruments, money is a problem in organbuilding. Herman Schlicker was a master of finance. We did not look forward to his daily rounds at the factory. “Robinson, why don’t you gold-plate it while you are at it?” That comment translates to the work is very good, but your progress is too slow and we can’t afford it. So I would speed up. Then, “Robinson, what is this? It will never do! The Schlicker organ is a quality instrument.” While making us employees stressed out during his rounds, he did achieve the right balance, getting us to do good work with enough production speed to be cost effective and keep the firm in business. After he died, that balance was lost and the firm eventually went bankrupt, as have far too many organbuilding firms.2

As an apprentice I made very little. One day I got an unexpected raise. Congress had just passed an increase in the minimum wage, and the salary I was making was below the new minimum. Schlicker added an extra five cents an hour because he did not want to be seen as paying minimum wage. As an apprentice, I rented a room. Most full-fledged organbuilders lived in apartments. I wanted to live in a house in the suburbs and I did not see that happening at any time in the future if I stayed on my current path. Many things I loved about organbuilding—your part in making a thing of beauty. But there were other important things to me that were either denied or out of reach. So my house in the suburbs was financed by leaving organbuilding and becoming a business systems analyst. And I am quite happy with my self-built 22-rank residence organ. Unfortunately, lack of space in my residence made it impossible for the third rank to be a 32 Bombarde.

 

The author wishes to thank Justin Matters for permission to use the photographs of Schlicker organs.

 

 

A Conversation with Wilma Jensen

Andrew Peters

Andrew Peters studied with Wilma Jensen while serving a church outside of Nashville, Tennessee. He holds degrees from St. Olaf College and the Cleveland Institute of Music and is Pastoral Musician at Second Presbyterian Church in St. Louis. He plays recitals and released a recording in 2008 on the Schoenstein organ in Franklin, Tennessee. For more information, go to www.andrewjpeters.com.

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Wilma Jensen is heralded as an outstanding recitalist, church musician, and teacher. Her extensive concert career has taken her throughout the United States. She has played on countless well-known instruments, including those at First Congregational Church in Los Angeles, the Mormon Tabernacle in Salt Lake City, the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception in Washington, D.C., Riverside Church in New York City, St. Paul’s Cathedral in St. Paul, St. Philip’s Cathedral in Atlanta, and the West Point United States Military Academy. Having played for several regional conventions and three national conventions of the American Guild of Organists, she is in demand as a recitalist, lecturer, and clinician for choral workshops, church music workshops, and organ masterclasses. Numerous European tours have taken her to Norway, Sweden, Denmark, Germany, France, Poland, the Netherlands, and England. In addition, she has made a recording for West German Broadcasting, Sender Freis Berlin.

Dr. Jensen earned her Bachelor and Master of Music degrees from the Eastman School of Music in Rochester, New York, where she was a student of Catharine Crozier and Harold Gleason. During that time she received the Performer’s Certificate in organ. She received an honorary doctorate from Piedmont College in May 2004. Recognized as a successful teacher, Wilma Jensen has served on the faculties of Oklahoma City University, the Blair School of Music of Vanderbilt University, Scarritt Graduate School, and Indiana University, where she was a tenured professor.

In addition to two professional solo recordings—Mors et Resurrectio (Arkay label) and Sketches and Improvisations (Pro Organo label)—Wilma Jensen also made two recordings conducting the St. George’s Choir on the Pro Organo label. She has given numerous masterclasses around the country at sites including the Juilliard School, Curtis Institute of Music, Westminster Choir College, Eastman School of Music, and many others. She has a full upcoming schedule of recitals and masterclasses and will present a pre-convention recital for the 2012 AGO National Convention in Nashville. Additionally, she will teach two workshop masterclasses. For more information, go to www.wilmajensen.com.

 

Andrew Peters: You’ve had a lengthy career in the organ world. What first interested you in the organ?

Wilma Jensen: My father was a Methodist minister in south central Illinois. By the age of ten, I wanted very much to try the organ, having started piano lessons at age five. Of course I was in church every Sunday and could play many hymns on the piano at a very young age, as well as do some playing “by ear.”

 

AP: You’ve had experiences in three aspects of the organ world: church music, teaching, and performance.  Can you talk a bit about your experience with service music and hymn playing?

WJ: When I was twelve, I had a regular job on a two-manual pipe organ in my father’s church, since there seemed to be no one else to play. I have no memory of what I might have used for voluntaries. They were probably poor, but I did enjoy working out the hymns with pedal, although at this point I was self-taught. I was extremely proud of my salary of $1 per week! A well-known organist, Dr. Frank Collins, gave a recital in my hometown, and my parents asked him to hear me play. He suggested I should study with a good teacher and recommended Ruth Melville Bellatti at MacMurray College in Jacksonville, Illinois. She was a graduate of the Eastman School of Music, having studied with Harold Gleason, and was a classmate of Catharine Crozier. She insisted I play every note of the first edition of the Gleason Method. Also, she was instrumental in my attending Eastman for undergraduate and graduate study.

 

AP: You had a long tenure at St. George’s Episcopal Church in Nashville. Did you have a choral background before serving there? 

WJ: Unfortunately, no. I conducted only one other church choir for a short time before coming to St. George’s. I realized I was in no way ready for the position, so I sought out excellent teachers to help me with conducting, diction, and repertoire. (This happened over a number of years.) Lois Fyfe and her staff at Lois Fyfe Music in Nashville provided invaluable assistance for the selection of choral music. An associate priest at St. George’s spent hours helping me each week in the study of the church year and planning appropriate music for the specific Sunday lessons from the Lectionary. Also, I listened to and studied numerous recordings of choirs from all over Europe and the U.S.

 

AP: Did studying choral skills in your mid-life give you a unique perspective on choral music and the voice?

WJ: Yes, it certainly did. Conducting makes one so conscious of the “time and dynamics between the beats,” the shaping of the musical line, and the timing of consonants for perfecting ensemble. Unifying proper vowels contributed more to the beauty of the sound than I ever previously could have imagined.  

During my tenure at St. George’s, the choir made two recordings and was chosen from an audition tape to sing for the national convention of the American Choral Directors Association in 1989. By that time, I had been choirmaster/organist for seven years and had been studying and growing as a musician. That summer, the choir made an extended tour of Europe, singing in England, Austria, and France. Our tour concluded at the Cathedral of Notre Dame in Paris, where we sang a pre-service a cappella program prior to singing the Vierne Messe Solennelle at Sunday morning Mass. (I also played the afternoon organ recital.)

 

AP: You’ve played recitals on organs of various historic periods throughout the United States and Europe. Out of the hundreds of recitals you’ve played, do any stand out in your mind? 

WJ: I am very grateful for the experience of playing so many diverse instruments, both electro-pneumatic and tracker. Some have been in large cathedrals with much reverberation and some have been small historic instruments. I appreciated being able to play the first Cavaillé-Coll of 1850 in Paris at the Cathedral of St. Denis, as well as later instruments of the same builder. At St. Denis, because the pedal pipes are so far from the console and there is no Barker lever for the pedal, I had to stand on final long notes with all the weight I could manage in order for all the pipes to sound! I enjoyed playing an Åkerman instrument in Uppsala, Sweden (Åkerman was a pupil of Cavaillé-Coll), a Schnitger organ in Germany, St. Paul’s in London, and many small tracker instruments in the Netherlands. I must admit I love a reverberant cathedral sound. This wide variety of experiences helps in my understanding of the overall repertoire and my ability to communicate appropriate registration to students. I do enjoy spending time planning the registration.

 

AP: You’re continuing to learn new repertoire. Do you have a particular style, period, or composer in which you specialize? 

WJ: I especially enjoy learning, performing, and registering the Romantic and contemporary literature. Additionally, I keep exploring repertoire for voluntaries for services, both for myself and students, and occasionally substitute for services at St. George’s and other churches. I have been given some out-of-print repertoire, which I later performed and recorded. As a result, several of these compositions now appear as archival editions. I am so looking forward to playing soon the newly renovated 1932 Aeolian organ at Duke Chapel. I have just learned all three of Eric Delamarter’s Nocturnes and will use the Chimes, Harp, Celesta and many solo stops as indicated in the score.

 

AP: You have current and former students across the country. Are there students with whom you are still in touch?

WJ: There are too many to name! Some are high-profile professionals. I am equally proud of many other students who are making invaluable contributions in their current positions. I stay in touch with many former students and enjoy hearing about their teaching, church positions, and performing. You might say talking on my cell phone to former students is my hobby!

 

AP: Do you still teach a monthly masterclass in Nashville? 

WJ: Yes, I did teach a monthly masterclass for many years for anyone who wanted to attend. This season, however, I am so busy with recitals, classes, and other commitments that, at least for the moment, I am taking a break.

 

AP: You recently released an extensive teaching video and booklet, “Organizing Notes in Space.” Why did you start this project?

WJ: This project was important to me to help communicate some of my teaching concepts as part of my legacy. After considerable study of the physical aspects of keyboard technique, I have developed an approach to help students overcome problems and develop a facile technique. And, of course, one arrives at a satisfactory musical result only through a controlled technique. As a result, I wanted to demonstrate these ideas by teaching former students in a video.

 AP: Is it true that you once played in a masterclass for Bonnet?

WJ: Yes, I played in a masterclass for Joseph Bonnet when I was twelve. I thought it was a recital, not a class. Since I was the first to play, I was humiliated that he stopped me for his suggestions.  At the conclusion of my playing, I went to a corner in the back of the room and shed many tears.

 

AP: Besides being a past dean of the Nashville AGO chapter, have you served in other AGO positions?

WJ: In addition to being Dean-elect and Dean for the two-year period, I have served on many program, executive and education committees through the years. Also, I have judged competitions, taught at Pipe Organ Encounters—both beginner and advanced—and taught masterclasses throughout the U.S. I am on the workshop committee for the Nashville 2012 AGO national convention. 

 

AP: What are your thoughts on the need for piano study before studying organ?

WJ: I think piano study is essential at a young age for developing a natural, flexible, facile technique. In mid-life, I had developed some wrist tension, too heavy thumbs, and resulting weak fourth and fifth fingers. I sought the coaching of Ernestine Scott, an incredible piano teacher in Oklahoma City. This study and extensive readings she recommended have changed my approach to technique and resulting musicianship. My new teaching video is dedicated to her. Sometimes when we are young we have a natural, facile technique that may change with lack of continued piano practice. Finding those skills again is a truly valuable gift at any age.

 

AP: Would you like to tell us a bit about your family? 

WJ: I have two children, seven grandchildren, and five great-grandchildren. I frequently visit my daughter and her family near Chicago. The oldest two of three girls attend Indiana University School of Business, and I was able to visit them in Bloomington while attending conferences last year. My son lives in Orlando. His three girls and one boy are rather scattered geographically, but we all manage to meet in Orlando. 

My daughter played the piano well and was fortunate to study with my teacher, Ernestine Scott. When she was in junior high, she was the registrant for my first European tour in Holland. She thought it was not as glamorous as she had expected! All seven grandchildren stomped their feet and said, “We are not taking any more piano lessons!”

 

AP: What changes in organ design have you seen during your career?

WJ: I recall experiencing the Orgelbewegung; then later Romantic organs including trackers, which became larger and larger; again more small historic trackers into the mix; and back and forth we go. I love it all!

 

AP: What do you perceive are the challenges of music in the contemporary church?

WJ: Just as we cannot seem to make up our minds about what kind of organ is best for each church, we seem to be having issues in choosing a traditional service with classical music or a contemporary service thought to be more appealing to young people. This issue has just come to the forefront at St. George’s in Nashville. The first modern liturgical service was just held a few weeks ago in a secondary worship space, which has been created with an altar, screens, microphones, etc. I attended the first service, and it was very successful and well done. I am pleased it was held in a place other than the main worship space. I believe it is essential to make the traditional service as beautiful, moving, and exciting as possible. The music of this new service was sensitive, set in a liturgical context, and still within the form of this modern style of worship. If that happens, there will be a place for both services to exist peacefully “in harmony.”

As for positions for church musicians, I believe if you can develop a really fine program that has meaning musically and spiritually, as well as make yourself invaluable to the program, there will be a good job for you.

 

AP: Thank you so much, Wilma!

 

 

 

Celebrating a milestone birthday: “Guardian Angel”

Oswald Ragatz

Oswald G. Ragatz served as professor of organ and chairman of the organ department at the School of Music at Indiana University from 1942–1983. Sadly, Mrs. Ragatz passed away after a long illness in 1998. When the Positive division was added to the organ at First Christian Church, where Mary so lovingly played for so many years, the Reuter organ was dedicated in her memory. Dr. Ragatz can be reached by contacting him at Meadowood Retirement Center in Bloomington, Indiana. David K. Lamb is currently the organist/choir director at First United Methodist Church in Columbus, Indiana. Graduating from IU in 1983, the year Ragatz retired, he completed the Doctor of Music degree at Indiana University in 2000. Dr. Lamb was recently appointed the District Convener for the State of Indiana by the American Guild of Organists.

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Introduction by David K. Lamb

For more than 40 years, Oswald Gleason Ragatz served as chairman of the Organ Department of the Jacobs School of Music at Indiana University. On October 30, 2007, “Ozzie” celebrated his 90th birthday. Witnessing many changes through those years at Indiana University, Dr. Ragatz has also seen many changes in the organ world and in church music practices in the years since his retirement from IU in 1983.

I recently enjoyed the chance to visit with Dr. Ragatz in his home at Meadowood in Bloomington. Full of stories and anecdotes, as always, he was ready to recount his years at IU in full detail. What a joy it was listening to those reflections as Dr. Ragatz revisited the events in his early life that led him to his 40-year teaching position at Indiana University. 

“Guardian Angel” is a wonderful exposé by Dr. Ragatz, detailing the sequence of events that made up the path leading him to Indiana University in 1942. In the words of Oswald Ragatz, please prepare to travel with him on this journey to Indiana University.

 

During my 25-year employment as organist-choirmaster in Presbyterian churches, I never heard the term predestination mentioned from the pulpit. But I understand that belief in predestination is one of the tenets of the Presbyterian faith. My Unitarian and agnostic friends shake their heads in patronizing dismay, when, instead of attributing some event to predestination or to sheer luck, I refer to my “Guardian Angel.” Probably influenced by all those charming angels in Renaissance paintings and those lovely little winged cherubs in the rococo churches in Europe, I personally would rather attribute the chain of events that greatly determined my life to an angel than to luck or to predestination. Luck never did me any good in those very brief encounters with the slots in the casinos in Las Vegas, and of course no serious angel would look after anyone foolish enough to wager hard-earned cash on those automated bandits. And I’m not a Presbyterian. But let me recount those events that directed my life, and the reader or listener can decide, Guardian Angel, Lady Luck, predestination, or whatever.

I guess I must start way back in the midst of the Great Depression and the Democratic landslide of 1932 that brought Franklin Roosevelt into the presidency, and that cleaned out all of the Republican county office holders in Logan County, Colorado, including my dad. The ensuing years found the Ragatz family trying to make a meager living from a small, 40-acre farm at the edge of my hometown, Sterling, Colorado. Farm labor, dust storms, locust plagues, and fundamentalist, straight-laced parents contributed nothing to the wished-for joie de vivre of high school student Oswald Ragatz. It must have been about then that Guardian Angel was assigned to look out for this puny kid, whose interests were music and architecture, thus contributing to the general scorn of his macho classmates.

 

High school days

The angel first appeared in the guise of a high school math teacher, Miss Smith. It was she who set me on the path that would lead to my escape from the dead-end existence of life on the dreary eastern plains of Colorado. It was Miss Smith who asked me to stay after algebra class so that she could talk to me, as she had some very exciting information to impart. My grade average was one-half point above that of one Verda Guenzi, and Verda and I had the highest grade average of our class. I probably should at this point give credit to the newly hired empathetic gym teacher, who had taken me in hand and had introduced me to gymnastics. This had had a marvelous effect on me. I was no longer the class wimp with C and D grades in gym. I now got an A in gym, which got me that one-half grade point above Verda Guenzi. (Was possibly Mr. Durfee the gym instructor an assistant Guardian Angel? Whatever.)

At any rate, Miss Smith pointed out that the University of Denver gave a four-year, full-tuition scholarship to the graduating senior valedictorian in the six largest high schools in the state. If I maintained a straight A average for the remaining years in Sterling High School, I would be able to go to college at the prestigious university in Denver, a city where there could also be numerous musical opportunities. That put on hold my interest in architecture; the nearest school offering architecture was Kansas U., which of course was out of the question. And anyway, no one was employing architects during the Depression.

My parents were elated by this news, and my mother, who was your basic taskmistress, went into a full cry. For the next two and half years, I became no longer the class wimp but now the class grind, the resident ant being held in some awe by the grasshoppers, my classmates. Verda Guenzi didn’t have a chance, poor girl.

 

Off to the University of Denver

Now things were getting under way in this chain of events. My dad’s brother lived in Denver and was married to a professional musician, a singer of some note in the city. They suggested that I live with them while attending the University of Denver. Their four sons were grown and out of college. I could pay for my room by accompanying students in my aunt’s studio and eventually accompanying her on singing engagements. There would be other duties—in-house chore boy, chauffeur for Aunt Ruth on occasions, etc.

Sterling, a town of less than 8,000, had a remarkable music program in the schools; the high school band and orchestra perennially won first place in the state competitions. I had begun playing oboe when just out of the sixth grade, and in six years had become quite proficient. In 1938 a symphony orchestra was formed in Sterling to accommodate the sizable number of graduates of the school’s music program who still lived in town and who wanted an outlet for their talent. Though still in high school, I was playing oboe in this symphony that had been organized during my senior year. 

Guest conductors were brought in for the three concerts that we played. The most important of these guests was Horace Tureman, director of the Denver Symphony. I don’t remember what we played, but there must have been an important oboe part. At any rate, when I enrolled in music theory the first semester at the university, who should be the teacher but Horace Tureman! And wonder of wonders, he recognized me. After class, he asked to talk to me, saying that he remembered me from the orchestra concert he had conducted in Sterling, and would I like to fill the opening in the Denver Civic Symphony for the second chair oboe? The pay was not great, but it enabled me to pay my uncle for my board. Did my Guardian Angel arrange for all this? But I continue.

I had played piano since I was six years old, my mother being a piano teacher. And I had my first organ lessons the summer after the eighth grade, and became the organist at the Methodist church that fall. During my last year in high school, my parents managed to scrape up enough cash to enable me to drive the 140 miles up to Denver once a month for oboe lessons and organ lessons with the organist-choirmaster of St. John’s Episcopal Cathedral. Now, living in Denver, I hoped to be able to continue organ lessons, although payment for same would be a problem. But not to worry, said my teacher. There was an opening for an organist at Broadway Baptist Church. He told me to try out for the job; I did and got the job. Those four years of playing for First Methodist in Sterling for little more than a Christmas remuneration had prepared me for the paying job in Denver.

So now I had enough monthly income to pay for organ lessons, textbooks, and music. I had been pretty burned out by the tension of making straight A’s during high school, so now I had decided to slack off a bit in college. However, shortly after the first semester had begun, I received a nice letter from the University Chancellor congratulating me on having won the scholarship and indicating that academic excellence would be expected of me. Furthermore, he indicated that since scholarship students were expected to give some services to the university, and in view of my experience as an organist, I would be expected to play the organ for university functions as needed—before lecture in the chapel, for example. 

This was OK by me. It gave me unlimited access to the chapel organ for practice and resulted in my being asked by the Dean of Women to furnish background music on the Hammond electric organ in the posh Renaissance room in the library where teas were the style in those days. For each of these events I was paid $3 and engendered a high profile among the female elite of the student body who were wanting to go to the teas—the girls of the Pan Hellenic Society, the Associated Women’s Students, etc.

So my fingers (on the ivories) were doing the walking—well, the earning, and my parents did not have to fork over that first dollar for my undergraduate training, just an occasional dressed chicken sent by my mother to Aunt Ruth, but that was it. I felt that I was independent, I was living in a sophisticated environment at my uncle’s, and I no longer felt inhibited by my strict parents’ restrictions—and I had a ball! I was pretty naïve and thoughtless though; things had worked out so well for me, so why worry about the future? Incidentally, I did graduate eighth from the top in my class, due to the chancellor’s veiled admonitions four years earlier. But I must continue.

 

Clarence who?

I am not quite finished with undergraduate years. The next vignette may seem inconsequential, but keep in mind, it turned out to be very significant. The setting: a picnic in the mountains. Who was there? I don’t remember, just a bunch of college students. What? I was sitting on a big rock eating a hot dog when a blonde girl I didn’t know joined me and initiated conversation. She was quite hep, and shortly had me telling her about my interest in organ playing. At that point, she became very excited and said that I must meet her uncle from New York, Clarence Dickinson, who would be in Denver in a couple of weeks. Her enthusiasm caused me to think that Uncle must be a man of some importance. And indeed the name was familiar to me: Dickinson was the author of the organ method text given to me by my cousin, my first organ teacher, that summer after my eighth grade. 

I was only mildly impressed, however, but I did mention this information to my organ teacher at my next lesson. Well, his reaction let me know that Clarence Dickinson was indeed a person of importance, being the head of the School of Sacred Music at Union Theological Seminary in New York City. So, a week later, I was playing two of my biggest pieces at St. John’s Cathedral for Dr. Dickinson, my teacher having somehow made contact with him in Denver. Tall, dignified, with white hair and mustache, Dr. Dickinson was cordial, and, I thought, politely complimentary. But I was still only mildly interested; I was probably preoccupied thinking about the impending fall Pan Hellenic formal. By the way, I never encountered the blonde niece on campus again. Was she my Guardian Angel in disguise? If so, she must have been pretty bored by my lackadaisical lack of enthusiasm. But guardian angels must be patient, and fortunately Guardian Angel didn’t forsake me, as will soon become evident. She just became a bit more devious. So I continue.

 

Aunt Ruth: gateway to Eastman

I have mentioned my Aunt Ruth previously. There is no doubt that she was my mentor if indeed not my Guardian Angel. She introduced me to the facets of the professional musical world, and she and Uncle Arthur took considerable pains to civilize their shy and unhep nephew from Sterling. By my senior year, Aunt Ruth had sensed my lack of a clear picture of what I was going to do the next year after graduation. My Bachelor’s degree in Social Sciences had presumably prepared me for getting a job in some small-town high school teaching history or social studies. But it was obvious that my interest and talents lay elsewhere—in music, of course. 

Aunt Ruth had a former voice student who had gone to the Eastman School of Music in Rochester, New York, and had high praise for the school. It sort of became understood during my senior year that I should go to graduate school the year after graduation from Denver. So I applied to Eastman and was accepted. However, I don’t remember now that I was particularly concerned about the financial requirements this expensive school would entail. I guess that I naïvely assumed that it would work out some way. It always had, hadn’t it? Of course, if there were sounds of fluttering angel wings, I didn’t notice.

I taught some organ students during the summer and played oboe in the Sterling summer band. So I had a little money in my pocket when I started out for New York with my two friends in the model A Ford. We traveled economy class, camping out, cooking our own food, and cheating on entrance fees at places like Mount Vernon. After two weeks of travel and visiting the 1939 World’s Fair in New York, we arrived in Rochester. The semester had not yet started, but I went into the Eastman office to see what a student did about housing. There was no men’s dormitory, but I was given a sizeable list of rooming houses near the school that catered to Eastman students. The person I talked to about this looked at a register of entering students (probably to see if I were indeed a legitimate entrant), and seeing that I was to be an organ student she immediately told me that an organ job was open and would I like to try out for it? 

And OK, yes, a lady had called for an organ student to come to her home and play her pipe organ during tea that she was hosting. It was intimidating that in view of the address this would undoubtedly be in one of the mansions out on East Avenue where the old elite of Rochester held forth. Well, I had brought with me my “tea time” music, thanks to those $3 gigs I’d played for at the University of Denver—I’d “been there, done that.” This gig was indeed in a mansion on East Avenue and was on an Aeolian pipe organ, the instrument of choice in those days for those who could afford such a pipe organ in their home. And needless to say, the pay was considerably more than $3. And, when I had my audition at Emanuel Lutheran Church, I got that job. So I had money to pay for my room and board—board by eating on $1 a day at a cafeteria across the street from the school.

Did Guardian Angel arrange it that I got to Eastman several days before the other students arrived, so I had no competition for these jobs and the opportunities to make some money?

By this time things had improved for my parents. Sterling was having a modest oil boom, and new houses were being built. Three blocks of our farm abutted on a subdivision, and it became possible to sell some of our property for city lots. I felt able to ask for tuition money, since I’d cost my parents nothing for my undergraduate education.

 

Life at Eastman

I found life at Eastman a far cry from my Denver experience. As an undergraduate in Denver, I had played an organ concerto with the Denver Junior Symphony, the Grieg piano concerto with the University Orchestra, and the organ part to the Saint-Saëns Organ Symphony with the Denver Civic Symphony. Big deals!!! Big toad in what I now found out had been a fairly little puddle. My uncle, who was somewhat of a VIP in some circles in the city, reported stiffly one evening at dinner that when he had that day been introduced to someone, he was asked, “By any chance are you related to Oswald Ragatz that young organist?” May I say, that that “made my day.” Country nephew, indeed!

But things now were different in Rochester. I was just a new student in one of the top professional music schools in the country. And believe me, there is no place more competitive than a big music school. Nearly all of my fellow graduate students had undergraduate degrees in music, many from Eastman itself. During my time at Eastman I learned discipline, humility, and respect for what the music profession really was like.

My Guardian Angel was no doubt cheering a bit seeing her/his protégé getting his comeuppance. But I was not being crossed off the list that year. Oh no! So I must continue this saga.

About the Lutheran church: it had an organ the likes of which I had not encountered. At that point, the organ world in the United States was just beginning to become aware of a renaissance in organ tonal design that had begun in the middle of the 20th century. The new instruments that were being built by many European builders and by a few avant garde builders in the United States were referred to as Baroque organs because the builders were attempting to design their organs on the tonal principles of the great old European organs of the 17th and 18th centuries. The organ at my church was a newly built instrument by the Walter Holtkamp Company, one of the first of these avant garde American builders. After a year with this organ at Emanuel Lutheran, I understood how to use it. This experience became very valuable for me, as will be noted later on.

The choir director at church was a talented young man who was the choral person in one of the big Rochester high schools, and his church choir was made up almost entirely of high-school age singers. I was getting some very good experience in choral techniques by observing how Ernie Ahern worked with the choir. I had had no training in choral work up to this point. The second year in Rochester, I actually did some private coaching with Mr. Ahern, and what I learned became the basis of my career as choirmaster through all my life.

One other facet of the Rochester experience must now be mentioned to make clear how the chain of events developed. If one link in the chain had not been there, there would have been no chain. When I obtained the list of rooming houses suitable for an Eastman student, my choice was purely arbitrary (or was Guardian Angel getting into the act again?). The first place I investigated was a big, old, three-story Victorian home, housing a dozen or so men, half of whom were students, the others single professional men. The maiden lady that ran the establishment had a nice vacant room (due, I presume, to the fact that I had gotten there before other students had arrived in the city). It was a congenial bunch of fellows, who all seemed to be on a tight budget, so we frequently ate supper en masse (I could hardly honor the meal as dinner) at the aforementioned cafeteria. 

 

Wilson College

One of the students, a fine violinist, and I became very good friends. It turned out that John’s father was the head of the music department of Wilson College, an undergraduate woman’s college in Chambersburg, Pennsylvania. When John came back from Christmas holidays, he told me that the organ teacher at Wilson College was going on sabbatical the second semester the next year, and his father, Prof. Golz, thought I might want the job as substitute for a semester. Of course I was most interested, and as a matter of fact I went down to Chambersburg with John during spring break to be interviewed. I played for Prof. Golz, and he seemed pleased and offered me the job. A real teaching job with a salary—$850 for the semester as I remember it! But that was 1940, and remember, I was eating on a dollar a day, so that seemed like a gold mine. I was just beginning to cope with the competitive stress of Eastman and the demanding teaching of Harold Gleason, my organ professor, so I was very glad to stay on at Eastman for the summer and fall semesters, which enabled me to get a second major, namely in music theory. Then in January of 1941, I arrived at Wilson College, with its faculty comprising chiefly elderly ladies. Now that was an interesting experience for a 23-year-old kid hardly dry behind the ears. It could furnish material for another different document, but that would have no relevance in this tale, except for two non-Wilson people with whom I made friends.

There was a young lawyer in Chambersburg who was very interested in music, and since there were not many opportunities for social contacts with people in their twenties, he immediately contacted me, and we became lifelong friends. He lived with his mother in Chambersburg, and they were frequently visited by his sister Selma, a music teacher in Baltimore and a graduate of N.Y.U. Selma was about my age, and we became good friends also—we dated in fact.

The semester at Wilson College was all too short, and I was having to face a very uncertain future. World War II was in full cry, and I had registered for the draft while in Rochester. So that dark cloud was hovering over my head. But I had had no word from Uncle Sam, so in the meantime I had to hunt for a job. I registered membership with a teacher’s placement agency in Chicago—Clark Brewer. And in May I went to New York to interview with a couple of agencies there. But they wouldn’t even take my registration. Colleges were retrenching because of the war and were hiring no new faculty. 

That was a very low moment in my life. For the first time I was faced with having no idea what to do next. I was suddenly out in the big world. I started walking aimlessly up town on Fifth Avenue, my mind swirling. I may even have contemplated how near the Hudson River was and how long would it take one to drown oneself. But maybe I wasn’t that far down or that stupid. At any rate, by the time I’d walked from the ’40s where the agencies’ offices were and reached 59th Street and the beginning of Central Park, my befuddled mind began to remember that Selma, who of course had lived in New York City while attending N.Y.U., had at some point asked me why didn’t I look into Union Theological Seminary. That had seemed like a dumb statement. A seminary? I didn’t want to be a preacher! Far from it!

 

Oh, that Clarence

But now my tiny memory began to function, and by the time I got up to the Metropolitan Museum, I thought of the blonde at that picnic in the mountains years ago, and her uncle, Clarence Dickinson, who was the head of the School of Sacred Music at—yes—Union Seminary in New York City. With a quick visit to a phone booth, where wonder of wonders there was a phone directory, I determined that Union Seminary was at 120th Street and Broadway. The next 50 or so blocks were covered with considerable resolution, and crossing over west to Broadway, past the Cathedral of St. John the Divine and Columbia University, I found the Gothic towers of Union Seminary and its quadrangle, which occupied two city blocks. 

Hot, tired, still dispirited and thinking that this was totally mad, I entered the main entrance and located the offices of the Music School. When I made it known to the secretary that I might be interested in becoming a student there, things began to move very rapidly. I was ushered into Dr. Dickinson’s office, where I was warmly greeted by Dr. Dickinson and then was introduced to Mrs. Dickinson, who, it developed, actually seemed to manage the business end of the school. The introductions were barely over when Dr. Dickinson said he remembered my playing for him in Denver, and that I had played very well. Where had I been since then? Eastman? Teaching at Wilson College? Interesting. Well, of course they would be delighted to accept me as a student working on the two-year curriculum leading to the Master of Sacred Music degree.

I had no money? No problem! The dormitory had two-room suites for students at $10 a month, and I could work a shift in the refectory for all my meals. And all of their students were placed in churches in Manhattan and in communities around New York City—on Long Island, in Westchester County, in Connecticut or over in New Jersey. Auditions for a job would be set up for me during the next month.

I could hardly believe all this. An hour earlier I was plodding the streets of New York wondering if I should be heading for the Hudson River. And had I listened, I might have heard Guardian Angel wildly flapping wings and snarling, “Oh ye of little faith, you silly twit. Why do you think I had that blonde girl join you on that rock that afternoon in the Rocky Mountains? And all of that other stuff we went through to get you this far!” Of course I wasn’t listening, but I do hope that I had the good grace to think that too many good coincidences were beginning to occur. My parents once had told me that the German name Oswald meant “Chosen of God.” What’s in a name? Maybe I should have paused to think. But of course, pausing and thinking were two things I’d not yet learned to do.

So I was set for two more years, Uncle Sam willing. I went back to Rochester for the summer to finish my master’s thesis. I had enough money saved up from that great salary at Wilson College to pay for a room at the Y, eat at the cheap cafeteria, and pay train fare to New York City twice for auditions.

The second audition was at Hitchcock Memorial Presbyterian Church in Scarsdale, a posh suburb in Westchester County. As it turned out, this was one of the prime jobs the Union students had. I would be replacing Robert Baker, a doctoral candidate at Union, who had just been hired at First Presbyterian in Brooklyn, a real, full-time professional position. I felt the audition went well, but nothing definite was said at the conclusion of my playing and answering questions. I would have a junior choir, a choir of twelve high school girls, and a professional quartet—VERY professional. The soprano had just sung a solo recital at Town Hall and the contralto was singing at the Metropolitan Opera a couple of years later, and several years later I read a rave review of her Carmen sung in Vienna. 

This would not be the first time I was faced with a task for which I was not really prepared. But I will say, without professing any modesty, that I never ducked. I learned how to conduct from the console by doing it—not that that quartet needed as much conducting as I thought I should be doing. At the end of the interview the chairwoman, an elegant middle-aged lady, said she would like to take me to dinner at the Scarsdale Country Club. That didn’t scare me: my aunt and uncle had seen to it that I knew how to behave at dinner, hold the chair for the lady, use the flatware from the outside in, etc. I seemed to pass muster with my hostess, since she informed me at the conclusion of the evening that I was hired. Eureka! Not only was the salary quite sufficient to pay for the organ lessons (which were outrageously high even for those times), tuition, and incidental living expenses, but even for a concert and opera now and then and a few heady evenings taking a date dancing to big name bands on the Astor roof.

 

Life in New York City

Guardian Angel now left me for a time as I devoured the life in New York. Our church jobs only required our presence at Sunday morning services, so a number of very compatible friends from Union would rush back to Manhattan by 3 o’clock, meeting at one of the big churches that had afternoon vesper services, oratorios, etc. A typical Sunday afternoon would be St. Bartholomew’s on Park Avenue at 3, where the 60-voice choir sang an oratorio every Sunday with a stunning organist on an enormous triple organ—chancel, rear gallery, and dome, playable from a single console in the chancel. Then over to St. Thomas on Fifth Avenue to hear a fine boy’s choir sing the 5 o’clock vesper Evensong. Then after a quick snack at our favorite bar, Tops, it was to St. Mary the Virgin Church on 46th Street, where the young avant garde organist, Ernest White, presided over a high-church late Evensong service. When I heard Mr. White play, I knew that I would have to study with him someday—which I did one summer after I had been at I.U. for a couple of years. These experiences taught me more than all the courses at the School of Sacred Music about what music could be in an enlightened church—with money. I HAD A BALL, needless to say.

It was the summer after the first year in New York, and I had had a very lucrative June playing for eight or more fashionable Scarsdale weddings. I was set indefinitely at the Scarsdale church and at Union, and after the M.S.M. degree I could continue working on a doctoral degree at Union, as had my friend, Robert Baker. I had dreams of eventually also moving on to some big Manhattan church. But this had to wait for a few decades for one of my students, who now is at the First Presbyterian Church in New York and is a big name there. Guardian Angel had other plans.

 

Hoosier holiday

Mail time was always a time of anxiety. Several of my friends had been drafted, but there was no message from the government for me. BUT, there was a letter from Clark Brewer Teachers’ Agency in Chicago telling me that there was an opening for an organ teacher at Indiana University. INDIANA? That was just a state to quickly get through when one was en route from Colorado to New York (with the exception of that adventure at Spring Mill Park in 1939). But I could get my expenses paid to Bloomington, and—always on the lookout for a deal—I figured I’d go to Indiana and then on to Colorado to visit my parents. I hadn’t been home for two years. I would go by train and stop off in Rochester to take my orals on my master’s thesis. Sneaky. Smart. I wasn’t even remotely interested in a job in Indiana.

So that is what I did, and after a night sitting up on a train from Rochester to Indianapolis, and then a bus to this village in the wilderness, I was even less inclined to take it seriously. After a night in a hot room in the Graham Hotel, I wandered out to the campus, past yellow clay around the old business school and the auditorium, both of which had just been completed. With the help of a kind lady who thought I was a new student (my ears were slow to dry), I found the new music building. First I was interviewed by Dean Sanders, a smooth, formidable, sophisticated young man, and then by the chairman of the theory department. Then I was taken up to a small practice room where the only organ on the campus existed. And guess what? The instrument was a Holtkamp almost identical to the one I’d had in Emanuel Lutheran in Rochester. And of course I knew how to handle it. (Did Guardian Angel snicker smugly?) 

So I played a couple of big pieces, and because I didn’t give a tinker’s cuss about the job, I was cool, probably to the point of being arrogant. Consequently, I greatly impressed the interviewers. It was explained to me that there was one organ major who would be a senior. Her organ teacher, who was also a pianist and taught theory, had been drafted. The organ “department” had been set up two years before when one Mary Christena had come over from the main campus wanting to major in organ. An organ curriculum was hastily fabricated, the Holtkamp was promptly purchased, and now they needed a regular organ teacher to get Miss Christena through her senior recital. 

I would teach any other organ students that might show up when it was learned that there was an organ teacher (there were nine of them), I would teach two sections of freshman music theory (after observing the chairman of the department teach another section of the same class each day), a music appreciation class for the general student body (there were about 70 enrolled, it turned out), and I would conduct the Choral Union, the only choral group on campus. This would result in my conducting in the auditorium a performance of Messiah, with orchestra, just before Christmas. I had never conducted an orchestra, to say nothing of an orchestra with a big chorus of 90 or so singers. But as I said earlier, I was not one to duck. I was new at academia and didn’t know that this teaching load was brutal and now would be considered illegal. It was a job, and I intended to be a success at any cost.

But I wasn’t offered the job on the spot, which was of no concern to me. I wanted to go back to New York. As a matter of fact, I called my parents and suggested that they come east instead of my going on to Colorado. They would meet me in Chambersburg, where I would go to visit Rudy and Selma Wertime. Did I tell Dean Sanders about this? NO, of course not. (Guardian Angel almost gave up on me at this point.) Three days later, my family and I were at the Wertimes in Chambersburg, when I got this irate call from Dean Sanders wanting to hire me. I don’t know how he found me. He probably contacted someone at Union who knew I had a girlfriend in Chambersburg and knew the name. I never asked. Maybe Guardian Angel slipped him a note.

So I was being offered a real job, a permanent job, albeit in the hills of Indiana. Well, I stalled a bit. My parents pushed, Guardian Angel was pushing, I am sure. I thought that surely that draft would get me any day, and a job at Indiana University would look good on my résumé some day, so I gave the dean a reluctant “yes.” The Dickinsons called me a day later suggesting that I postpone the appointment for a year, so I could finish the degree, but that was out of the question since Miss Christena would be awaiting her new teacher in September. So after a week in the city with my parents, I was off to Bloomington, Indiana, for an entirely new life, and as it turned out, a wife.

Mary Christena turned out to be a fine organist, and again I was faced with a situation I wasn’t quite ready for. But I didn’t duck, and she got a performer’s certificate with distinction for her senior recital. It was not until after Mary’s graduation that the student-teacher relationship segued into a more personal one. After a summer of dating, Mary went to New York to Union Seminary on my recommendation. I wanted her to experience the school, and especially the milieu of New York City and the great church music. However, she spent only one semester at Union, terminated by my going to New York to propose at Christmas. And that event can be subject for another paper—shorter than this one, I assure the reader. We were married June 4, 1944. (I never had trouble remembering that date. The assault on Normandy was to take place that week.)

There is one loose end that must be taken care of in closing: THE DRAFT. During my first Christmas vacation at I.U., I had three recitals scheduled in the East—for the American Guild of Organists Chapter of Baltimore, before the New Year’s midnight service at First Baptist Church in Washington, D.C., and in Chambersburg. Of course I had as yet not learned how to cope with the stress of this sort of behavior, and I took sick on the B. & O. train returning from Washington to Indiana. A few days later, my landlords called a doctor, and I was promptly swished off to the hospital in an ambulance with a severe case of pneumonia. (Guardian Angel was taking severe measures!) 

I was very ill, and had not the sulfa drugs just come on the market, I might have died. But after three weeks, I was released, only to go back to my room to find THE letter from Uncle Sam telling me to report for induction in Indianapolis. Why had it taken them so long to find me? I had registered in Rochester, giving my address as Sterling, Colorado, but I found out later that my registration had been sent to Sterling, Pennsylvania, wherever that is.  And when they finally found me, it was discovered that I had registered as a conscious objector—and that is another story—so interviews had to be made with all sorts of people in Colorado to see what sort of a jerk I was. (Was Guardian Angel back of all this? Surely not . . . ) But now I was going through induction in Indianapolis, then, pale, and suspect. The late January quota for draftees was unusually low that month, and after the examining doctors took a good look at me and they took a look at my 1-A-O classification, I was told that I probably wouldn’t do much good for the U.S. Army and to go back to I.U. “and teach them how to sing the Star-Spangled Banner.”  

So that’s how I met my wife. Do I believe in a Guardian Angel? Sometimes I almost think that I do. Maybe everyone has a similar chain of events that direct them through life. They just don’t spill the whole tale in a writer’s club. I leave it up to you, with apologies for being too forthcoming. n

 

What a pleasure it has been to prepare this essay for publication in The Diapason to honor and celebrate the 90th birthday of Dr. Oswald G. Ragatz. This inspirational tale provides a glimpse of the organ and church music scene in New York in the early forties, as well as the documentation of the beginning of the I.U. Organ Department at that same time. When Dr. Ragatz retired in 1983, that organ department that he found in Bloomington in 1942 with the Holtkamp organ in the practice room had grown to a department with a notable historic concert organ in the I.U. Auditorium, two respectable studio organs, and eleven pipe organs in practice rooms for student use. Ragatz built the department to a level where it could take its place along with the other large university organ departments in the United States. Currently, the organ department of the Jacobs School of Music at Indiana University is one of the largest institutions offering degrees in organ in the United States.  

With approximately 400 living IU alumni organists, the former students of Oswald Ragatz can be found all over the U.S. and in several foreign countries. Teaching and playing in both churches and universities, these Indiana University organists carry the Ragatz legacy with them in all of their endeavors. We salute you, Dr. Ragatz. Happy birthday and many happy returns.

—David K. Lamb

 

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