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The Baroque Organ at Elgin: A Saga (Cover)

Ron Rarick

Ron Rarick worked in various capacities for the Reuter Organ Co., and then took the doctorate in history of art with a minor in history of musical instruments. He is Assistant Professor of Art at Ball State University, Muncie, Indiana

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Easy to overlook, at the bottom of a small display case in the basement archives of the Church of the Brethren in Elgin, Illinois, is a faded inscription on a small piece of wood. This voice from the past bears witness that In the forenoon of September 23, 1698, I Johan Christoph Harttman, organ maker of Nürttingen, firmly closed this small wind chest. May God grant that many beautiful and spiritual psalms and songs be played and struck on this work to His name's honor.1

Only a few steps away, in an adjoining room, stands the three-rank instrument from which this fragment was taken. While the closing of a windchest is not the completion of an organ, it nevertheless seems right that September 23, 1998, be regarded as the three hundredth anniversary of this, one of the oldest organs now to be found in North America.

Hartmann is not a famous builder but there are some scraps of information regarding his career.2 Based at Nürtingen some twenty kilometers southeast of Stuttgart in the former duchy of Württemberg, he made an eight-stop organ for the Dominican church of St. Paul at nearby Esslingen in 1688, and did repair work at Gerlingen about 1700.3 Both towns are just outside Stuttgart. These two references, combined with the instrument at Elgin, give us a known career covering a scant dozen years and modest territory. From the region of Württemberg came not only the cabinet organ at Elgin but also the person who brought it to America.

Henry J. Kurtz was born at Binningheim on July 22, 1796, when the organ was nearing its first century mark. The Kurtz family was Lutheran, the father a schoolteacher.4 In 1817, the young Henry (and the organ5) arrived in Northampton County, Pennsylvania. He was first a schoolteacher and in 1819 became a Lutheran pastor, ultimately serving the congregation in Pittsburgh (1823-27). Influenced by the utopian communitarianism of Robert Owen and George Rapp, he worked toward the founding of a "German Christian Industrial Community," to be named Concordia, near New Philadelphia, Ohio. This effort failed, but he found something of the idealistic Christian community he was seeking among the German Baptists, who called themselves Brethren, and was baptized into their fellowship on April 6, 1828. Rising in prominence within his newly chosen faith, he entered into its ministry in 1830 and was ordained an Elder in 1844. Throughout this time and beyond, Kurtz was convinced of the need to reach people through the printed page. In the 1820s he published Die Kleine Leider Sammlung, a small-format hymnbook "for the convenience of travellers," and he entered the English market (especially for the Brethren west of the Appalachians) with A Choice Selection of Hymns in 1830.6 Aside from musical publishing, in 1851 he established the Gospel Visitor (forerunner of the modern Brethren magazine The Messenger) and completed The Brethren's Encyclopedia in 1867. He also advocated expanding the role of the institutional church in the form of Sunday schools, academies, and missions.

While historian Donald Durnbaugh has referred to Kurtz as "the most influential figure in nineteenth-century Brethrenism,"7 the Brethren of that time, suspicious of things worldly, were not only dubious of the need for denominational schools and periodicals, but also took a dim view of instrumental music in general and rejected its use in church. This put Kurtz, a former Lutheran with a pipe organ, in an awkward position.8 It was not in his best interest to play the organ conspicuously, and so it became a very private affair for him.

What little is known about his use of the instrument was noted by his intimates, and only after his death. These recollections do provide a glimpse of how a private chamber organ--certainly a rarity--might have been used in the nineteenth-century American midwest. Eliza A. Good, his granddaughter, recalled that "sometimes he played on the organ and enjoyed teaching me some little songs on Sunday afternoons after Sunday school."9 It was in a corner of the room Elder Kurtz used for his study, and it shared the space with plebian furnishings: dresser, table, rocking chair, bed, woodstove.10 Another memory was that of Henry Holsinger, a former printing apprentice to Kurtz.

Brother Kurtz was quite a musician, vocal and instrumental, and had an organ in the house, but rarely used it. I shall long remember one occasion on which I heard him perform and sing one of his favorites. I went to the house, where the editorial sanctum was, on business connected with the office. After entering the hall, I heard music, and, finding the door ajar, I stopped and listened till the hymn was completed, much delighted with the strains. When I complemented him on his success, he explained that he had been tired of reading and writing, and had sought recreation and solace in the music. I prevailed on him to play and sing another piece for my gratification, which is the only occasion I remember that I was with him when the inspiration was upon him.11

After Henry Kurtz' death in 1874, the instrument remained in the family. In the 1890s it was in his son Jacob's home, where Charles Ellis saw and heard it, declaring its music "scarce inferior to that of many modern instruments of greater pretensions."12 As the Brethren began to accept instrumental music in the twentieth century, this organ eventually made its way into Bethel Church at Poland, Ohio (near Youngstown), where Levi P. Good, a great-grandson of Kurtz, pumped it as a boy. The church was forced to relocate and the organ next went to the home of another granddaughter of Henry Kurtz, Mrs. Silas (Ella) Huffman, who in turn left it to her son Dur Huffman. After his death the organ became the property of Mr. Good, who had grown up to become a successful farm implements dealer. In 1952 Good built a new house which could not accommodate the organ, which was removed to his barn.13

This nadir, thankfully, was short-lived. Levi Good may not have been concerned with the history of organ-building, but the organ had been part of his childhood and he had a sense of the instrument's connection with his illustrious ancestor and thereby with the formative history of the Church of the Brethren in America. With the encouragement of Brethren historian Law-rence Shultz, he contacted the offices of its General Board, and arrangements were made for its relocation. On August 6, 1957, the organ, in pieces, arrived in Elgin.14

Having been moved from Germany to Pennsylvania to Ohio to Illinois, this organ was still not done with its westward migration. In 1958, it was displayed at the church's annual conference, in Des Moines, Iowa. It was far from playable, however, and church staff desired its repair. Arrangements were made with an Illinois organ builder in 1961,15 but a few years later the work was not done and he had relocated to California, taking the Hartmann organ with him. Inquiries from Elgin and promises from McFarland were exchanged for several years until finally, in late summer 1969, representatives of the Brethren collected the organ--still in pieces--and shipped it back to Illinois. While a few repairs had been made to the wood pipes and windchest using unauthentic materials and techniques, it is to the credit of the Brethren that they resisted the opportunity for modernization (such as an electric blower) and pursued a "restoration only" policy.

The return of the organ after an absence of eight years caused a ripple in the local media as the Elgin Daily Courier News carried a photo of the empty case with a hopeful caption "Young at 272; never too old for a face lift."16 This brave attitude, however, could not mask the disappointment at the General Board that after twelve years, virtually no progress had been made. In addition, the Brethren were now understandably wary about the choice of a restorer. Another problem was that the work would have to be outside the Board's operating budget; earmarked donations were sought in 1970, but with meager results.

This was the situation in May 1972 when I, then a student at the University of Kansas, visited Elgin, where my grandfather had once been pastor of the Church of the Brethren. I was introduced to Gwendolyn Bobb, Administrative Assistant to the General Board. She was particularly keen about the organ, and when she discovered my abiding interest in organ construction, she showed me the pieces and expressed her frustration with the status of the project. I suggested a few reputable names, including that of John Brombaugh, whose shop near Middletown, Ohio, I had visited the previous December. As a journeyman with Von Beckerath, he had worked on Schnitger organs, and although in 1972 he was still in his early years as a master builder in America, he had restored the Tannenberg in Madison, Virginia, as well as serviced the eighteenth-century cabinet organ in the Toledo art museum. At that time, he was certainly one of the most highly qualified craftsmen in America to whom the organ might be entrusted. As it happened, the Brethren annual conference was in Cincinnati that summer and Miss Bobb was able to visit the nearby Brombaugh shop. Having met him and his associates, she knew her search for a fine artisan was over. Unfortunately, the search for funds was not, and three more years were to pass until work could begin.

John Brombaugh first saw the instrument briefly in June 1975 and gave a preliminary estimate for restoration (which had to be revised upwards following a later, more detailed inspection). By the first week of November the instrument was in Middletown, and as it is a small organ, the work was complete in short order. An invoice details the work: releather bellows; design and build foot pump mechanism (to replace a lost original); repair casework, stain and wax same; replace back panel; mount principal in façade with appropriate cherry casework (new pipe stiles); design and make pipe shades; repair all pipes, gild façade pipes; revoice, tune all pipes (Kirnberger III); new tuners for flute 4'; refurbish action; restore wind chest. In January 1976 Brombaugh had been paid and the organ was back in Elgin, in a condition surely better than any time in over a century.

There was to be one more trip for this much-travelled little organ. The 1976 annual conference was to be held in Wichita, and the General Board wanted to feature its historic treasure. With Brombaugh's consent and advice, it was trucked to the distant convention center. Circumstances had conspired to elect me, by then working in the organ business in Kansas, to re-tune the organ for its presentation. I did this in the only quiet time available on the incongruously vast modern stage: after midnight. On the evening of July 29, played by Wilber Brumbaugh (a Brethren staff member and by curious coincidence a distant relative of John Brombaugh), the organ was dedicated with an oral presentation, solo literature, and singing, with approximately four thousand in attendance. Johann Christoph Hartmann of Nürtingen would have been astounded.

Returned to Elgin once more, the organ has enjoyed a relatively quiet retirement, but there have been moments of glory. The organ came to the attention of the Organ Historical Society17 and was featured in a program of the Chicago/Midwest chapter on September 13, 1981. Peter Crisafulli performed Stanley, Pachelbel, Bach, and Buxtehude. On August 21, 1984, the OHS national convention was in the Chicago area and Elizabeth Towne Schmitt played works by Naumann, Boëllmann, and Goemanne.18

The instrument has a cherry case which is presumed to be of American manufacture; the original German case was likely oak.19 It stands two meters high, 1.15 meters wide, and 55 centimeters deep excluding pump levers. Any original pipe shades were gone without a trace and budget restraints during restoration precluded carving. Illusionistically painted pipe shades were created by the Brombaugh staff with an eye to those of Arp Schnitger's 1685-88 Steinkirchen organ. The Elgin organ's compass is four octaves CC-c'', with the omission of CC# for a total of 48 pipes per rank. The ranks are an 8' stopped wood, 4' open wood, and 2' metal principal,20 the latter of which has notes 1-27 and 29 tubed off to the façade with the remaining 20 pipes (28 and 30-48) standing chromatically just behind the façade. The photograph reveals the use of diamond- and spiral-pattern embossing on selected façade pipes. It was common in the north European Baroque to alternate embossed and cylindrical pipes, but always in symmetrical patterns. This display could be rendered symmetrical if FF and BB were embossed. It is reasonable to suppose these pipes are not original since they break the design rhythm. Their construction, however, is consistent with the other pipes and therefore they may have been early replacements, perhaps in the organ's first century before being acquired by Kurtz. The principal is of a darkened high-tin alloy which contrasts with the mouth gilding applied in the 1975 restoration. This Principal is cut up 1:4 and moderately nicked. John Brombaugh recalls that the languids seemed to be set too high for prompt speech, but an experimental adjustment on a few pipes did not get good results and the voicing was thus left essentially unchanged during restoration. The sound of the principal is quite bold, especially in a small room. In Table 1, diameters are approximate due to out-of-round pipes, and the cone tuning forced the use of outside dimensions.

The organ is winded at 50 mm water column and the Brombaugh restoration provided both a hand pumping lever in back and an iron foot pumping lever in front. Key action is of the sticker type, with pallets directly beneath the keys. From there, wind is channelled to pipe holes in a pattern of considerable irregularity. There are a few short runs of chromatic sequence, but mostly in reverse to the keyboard (basses to right). It certainly does not resemble the logical appearance of chromatic, diatonic, or major-third layouts common today. Navigating these ranks when setting temperament and tuning is, to put it mildly, a challenge.

Sensibly enough, the 8' Gedackt basses are in back (although not entirely in chromatic order). Only CC is mitered. Because of various attempts at restoration before 1975, the wood pipes sport a variety of materials and techniques, but are reasonably original. The mouths are cut up very slightly under 1:3 and level. (See Table 2.)

The stops are not named, but the 4' open wood has been referred to as a Hohlpfeife. Its wooden construction imparts a flutiness, while its moderate scale and 1:4 cut-up give it somewhat a principal quality to bridge the gap between the stopped 8' and the metal 2'. Each pipe is tuned with a metal flap at the top, and pipes 1-4 are mitered. This rank is placed between the Gedackt and the façade, with basses clustered to the player's left. The pipes' sectional proportions are roughly 3:2 throughout. (See Table 3.)

Late seventeenth-century German working parts in an early nineteenth-century American case with late twentieth-century repairs do not add up to an instrument of pristine museum quality. And yet, its intact musical nature and high-quality restoration allow it to present music now as was originally heard in the Hartmann shop in the autumn of 1698. This, as well as its connections to an important figure in early American music publishing and religious life, place it, as it enters its fourth century, among the most significant historical organs in America.

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Chamber Organ Restoration

Bradley Rule

Bradley Rule received a Bachelor of Arts in Organ Performance from the University of Tennessee, from which he graduated with high honors in 1982. From 1982 to 1988 he worked for the Andover Organ Company in Lawrence, Massachusetts, and at this firm he encountered hundreds of different kinds of mechanical-action organs.
After working nearly six years at Andover Organ Co., Mr. Rule returned to his home of East Tennessee and began business for himself. He set up shop in the old St. Luke Presbyterian Church building in New Market, Tennessee, a venerable old brick building which has served admirably as an organ building shop. Mr. Rule has built and restored organs from Alabama to Massachusetts in the years since 1988.
In addition to his lifelong pursuit of organbuilding, Bradley Rule has held various positions as organist or organist/director from 1976 until 1991, at which point his organbuilding business began to demand his undivided attention. During these years, his organist activities included playing concerts and making recordings, in addition to the usual weekly church duties.

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While completing the installation of a new organ in the
Tennessee Valley Unitarian Universalist Church in late 1998, I was drawn into a
conversation between Will Dunklin, the organist, and Marian Moffett, a viol da
gamba player who is a member of a local early music ensemble. Marian indicated
an interest in acquiring a small chamber organ for her home, which would be
appropriate as a continuo instrument for early (particularly English) music.
After briefly discussing prices, both Will and myself commented that an early
American organ (pre-1860) would possess many of the tonal characteristics
required for such a use, as well as providing its own historical interest.
Besides, restoration of such an instrument would likely be quite economical
compared to the price of a new organ.

After checking with the Organ Clearing House, we found
nothing small enough for such a use, and the matter got shelved in the back of
my mind. About a year later, I received a message from Marian that Will had
found a small American chamber organ on eBay, for sale by a doctor in Michigan.
After some negotiation, she purchased the organ and went with Will in a rented
van, returning two days later with said instrument. In such a serendipitous
series of events, then, did this enigmatic and charming little instrument fall
into my hands for the purpose of restoration.

Provenance

Establishing the provenance of the instrument was the first
item of interest; since the organ sat in the shop for a year before work could
commence, it gave me some time to pursue the subject. Alas, despite our efforts,
the little instrument still remains anonymous. The following, however, are some
of the identifying characteristics pertinent to its provenance.

The cabinet holds a number of clues, which help us make some
general conclusions. The cabinet (as well as the chest and internal framework)
is made of eastern white pine, with a smattering of cherry and black walnut.
This clearly identifies it as an American-made instrument. The Empire case,
with its ubiquitous crotch mahogany veneer and late Empire styling, seems to
place it between about 1845-1855. According to Barbara Owen, the cabinet looks
like the work of early Connecticut builders. This dovetails nicely with the
oral history we received from the previous owner, who had been told that the
organ was built for the Lockwood family of Norwalk, Connecticut. Apart from
these general observations, the cabinet holds another clue: the ripple
moldings, which appear in several shapes and sizes. According to an article by
Carlyle Lynch in the magazine Fine Woodworking (May/June 1986, pp. 62-64), such
molding was made by only one company in America, the Jonathan Clark Brown clock
company in Bristol, Connecticut. This company made the gew gaw covered clocks
known as steeple clocks, but after the factory burned in 1853, J. C. Brown
clocks no longer were made with the unique ripple moldings. Such moldings
require an elaborate, slow-moving machine for their manufacture, and the
machine was evidently never rebuilt. If the builder purchased his ripple
moldings from the clock company, then it is clear the instrument was built
before 1853.

The hardware found on and in the instrument provides more
tantalizing hints as to the organ's provenance. The mix of early factory-made
components with other hardware which is clearly hand-made seems to place the
organ on the very cusp of the Industrial Revolution. For instance, the lock for
the keydesk lid bears unmistakable marks of being handmade: all parts were hand
filed out of solid brass, and then fitted together with hand-threaded screws. Yet,
the hinges which occur in various places (e.g., swell pedal, main reservoir)
are all of cast iron and bear the name "Clark's Patent." While a bit
crude (they certainly are not interchangeable), they bear all the signs of
early factory production. An additional item of interest is that one leaf of
each hinge was cast around the pin while the pin was inserted into the other
leaf. This makes it impossible for the pin to ever work its way out; it also
makes it impossible to separate one leaf from the other, short of a sledge
hammer.

The most interesting piece of hardware is the square iron
roller for the swell mechanism. Clearly stamped on the bar is the word CLYDACH.
It turns out that Clydach was a Welsh ironworks established in 1793, continuing
in production until about 1858. I'm not sure what this reveals about early
American sources of iron and steel. Of course, it is possible that the builder
recycled the piece of iron from an older apparatus or structure.

Finally, even the humble wood screws give us some
information. They are a mix of the earlier blunt ended screws and the more
modern pointed screws, and all but one or two were clearly made by a machine.
This also seems to point to about 1850-1855, although I am unsure when the more
modern pointed wood screws became available. The E. & G.G. Hook organ of
1847 in Sandwich, Massachusetts, was put together entirely with blunt ended
machine-made screws, so it seems that modern wood screws came along a few years
later.

One intriguing note is written (sometimes scrawled) on
almost every piece of the instrument. The message "No. 2" can be
found on the bellows, keyboard, backboard, knee panel, etc. The inescapable
conclusion is that there must be (or must once have been) a "No. 1"
lurking out there somewhere, waiting to be discovered.

The reader is left to draw his own conclusions about the
provenance of the instrument. Clearly, the Empire style and the handmade
hardware place the instrument no later than about 1855. The wood screws fit
into the time frame of about 1850. The oral history as well as the general
design of the case place the builder in Connecticut. We were unable to find
information about "Clark's Patent" hinges, and CLYDACH presents more
an enigma than it does an answer. Perhaps a reader will recognize one of these
items and shed a bit more light on the history of this little instrument.

Restoration techniques

The following describes the techniques and materials used
for the restoration. An astute reader will occasionally see the tension which occurs
when the desire to restore the organ to its original state is not always in the
best interest of the customer. Ultimately, we did almost nothing to the
instrument which could not be easily reversed later. Additionally, we took
great care to avoid removing any original material (no pipe tops were trimmed,
and even the finish was not entirely removed).

Cabinet

Failing joints were disassembled when practical and re-glued
with hot hide glue. Other joints were simply injected with hot hide glue and
clamped for 24 hours minimum.

The reservoir and feeder assembly share a common 1"
thick horizontal board which is dadoed into the sides of the carcass. This
board was originally glued into the dados and glued and nailed to the front
rail directly above the two pedals (the self-closing swell pedal on the left,
and the single pumping pedal on the right). Mahogany crotch veneer was then
applied over the nails. Someone had previously done a very nice job of sawing
through the nails and sliding the entire assembly out the back of the
instrument in order to patch the bellows. We decided to leave this alteration,
since it is truly the only way to access the bellows for releathering. Maple
cleats were added so that the 1" board could be screwed securely to the sides
of the carcass.

Stabilizing and repairing the veneer became one of the most
time-consuming jobs. Like many Empire pieces, the crotch burl mahogany seemed
to shed little bits of veneer onto the floor every time one walked past. About
half of the veneer was no longer securely glued to the white pine below, and
the ogee-shaped front board of the folding lid was missing about 70% of its
veneer. The ogee crown molding veneer was almost entirely unglued from its
substrate, although miraculously most of the veneer was still there. The
decision was made to remove the remaining tatters of veneer from the ogee
shaped lid front and use the bits to patch veneer on the rest of the piece. The
lid front was then entirely re-veneered with book-matched mahogany crotch burl.

The crown molding presented another challenge; the veneer
was so brittle that even the slightest attempt to lift it in order to work glue
under it caused it to shatter. Clamping was difficult; since the veneer was
glued over a hand-planed ogee, the shape of the contour changed from one end to
the other, and the molding on the sides of the crown were quite different in
shape from each other and from the front. This precluded any possibility of
making precise blocks to fit the shape of the molding. The solution was finally
to inject fish glue through tiny holes in the veneer and clamp a sand-filled
Ziplock bag firmly over the area. The sand conformed perfectly to the contour
of the molding and distributed the clamping pressure evenly. The fish glue,
being a protein-based glue, was compatible with the old hot glue and adhered
well, though it required long clamping times of about 48 hours. Close
inspection reveals the pinpoint size holes through which the glue was injected,
but it seemed the least destructive way to stabilize and re-glue the very
brittle veneer.

Conservation of the finish required a careful approach.
Rather than subject the piece to the humiliation of being entirely stripped and
refinished, we decided instead to conserve what was left of the old shellac
finish. Parts of the case, such as the underside of the lid, retained the
original finish in excellent condition. Other parts had obviously been covered
with an additional layer of low quality shellac. Besides this, someone had
studiously "patched" every missing veneer chip by the application of
red-primer colored latex paint. Paint ended up on the surrounding intact veneer
as much as it did on the offending gap in the veneer. To address these multiple
problems, the course of action was as follows:

The top layer of accreted dirt and crazed finish was sanded
off using 400-grit sandpaper with paint thinner as a lubricant. This required
removing only a very thin film of finish. Then, a pad of wool and cheesecloth
was filled with shellac and applied over the remaining old shellac. This
smoothed out any remaining "alligatored" shellac. This French Polish
technique was repeated about a dozen times until the surface took on an evenly
covered appearance and began to glow. Then, at the request of the customer, the
shellac was sanded lightly and was covered with two coats of high quality
varnish for durability. On parts of the cabinet where extensive veneer patching
was required (such as the crown molding), the resulting surface was too rough
and the old finish too compromised for conservation; it was necessary to sand
the entire surface down to the bare wood. Then, colored pumice was rubbed into
the grain along with residual sanding dust and garnet shellac, after which the
usual french polish technique was used, followed by the two coats of varnish.
The orange colored garnet-lac returned the "old" color to the newly
sanded wood, making a perfect match. The results were visually stunning; the
mahogany crotch burl fairly leaps off the surface of the piece with three-dimensional
fervor. The keydesk itself is veneered with rosewood, and since the lid
evidently was always closed, the finish on the rosewood required little
attention.

The center panel of cloth was originally a very thin silk,
bright turquoise in color. We found well-preserved pieces of it under the wood
half-dummy façade pipes. Marian decided the original color was
remarkably wrong for her house (I had to agree), and chose a silk of subdued
gold instead. The turquoise silk is still under the dummies for future
reference. Behind the cloth panel is a very small swell front, with shades
which open only about 45 degrees. After listening to the instrument, we decided
that omitting the shades made the organ considerably louder, and virtually
perfect in balance to a small consort of viols. Fortunately, there is a large
well behind the crown molding which provided a perfect storage space for the
shades. Reinstalling them would be the work of a few minutes should a future
owner wish to use the organ in its completely original state.

Wind system

The bellows still had its original leather, but every square
inch of it had been secondarily covered years ago with hot glue and rubber
cloth, probably by the same party mentioned earlier who went to such lengths to
remove the bellows plate from the organ. The rubber cloth and hot glue had
ossified into a stiff, inflexible board-like structure which had caused all
bellows hinging to rip itself apart upon inflation of the reservoir; the single
large feeder suffered the same fate. The bellows and feeder were completely
releathered with hot hide glue and goatskin. The bellows and feeder boards were
rather generously filled with splits, cracks and checks; the worst were
reinforced with butterfly-type patches, and all were entirely covered with
rubber cloth to prevent leakage.

The short wooden wind line which conducts wind from the top
of the bellows plate into the chest was originally simply fitted into place by
friction, but the horizontal members of the cabinet frame did not shrink and
expand in the same direction as the vertical boards of which the wind line was
made; in summer, as the cabinet expanded and lifted the entire upper assembly
away from the bellows, the leakage must have been spectacular. The joints
around the wind line had probably received more attention over the years than
any other part of the organ. Numerous layers of patching (leather, glue, rubber
cloth) attested to the trouble which this particular design flaw had visited
upon those who chose to play the instrument in humid weather. It seemed that a
change was necessary, so four small oak cleats were attached to the narrow ends
of the wind line so that it could be screwed securely to both the bellows top
and the bottom board of the pallet box. The cleats are clearly and
intentionally not a part of the original construction.

Chest

The chest was plagued by innumerable runs, and after some
investigation, they all were found to be caused by a joint in the table. The
front five inches or so of the grid is covered with a thin (1/4") mahogany
table. The rest of the chest is covered by one large pine channel block,
13/4" thick and honeycombed with many channels. The joint between the thin
mahogany and the thick pine channel block is naturally a source of some tension;
even though no crack had opened up between the two, the mahogany had almost
imperceptibly lifted along the joint. The problem was solved by screwing down
the mahogany piece with a screw in every rib, and by gluing a piece of thin
leather in each channel to bridge the joint. Should the joint ever move again,
the flexible leather should absorb the movement and prevent leakage. All key
channels, as well as all offset channels, were poured out with sanding sealer.
Shellac could have been used, but since the work was being performed in the
humid summer weather of East Tennessee, I decided to avoid shellac because of
the tendency of its solvent (alcohol) to absorb water from the air.

The bottom of the grid was originally covered in a thick
cotton covered with much shellac. We chose to replace it with rubber cloth.
Pallets were re-covered with two layers of leather, just as they were
originally, and they were installed in the original fashion, glued with hot
glue at the tail and held down by a small pine slat nailed on by tiny cut
nails. The builder evidently thought it was necessary to provide pallet sizes
commensurate to the wind demand, so the already tiny bass pallets (43/4"
long) were made even shorter at middle C (4" long).

Key and stop action

The keys are mounted on a balance pin rail at a ratio of
roughly 2:5. Thus, the pallets open a small, but nonetheless sufficient,
amount. Under the keyboard is mounted an elegant mahogany backfall (ratio 1:1)
which pushes down on very slender (.047") brass wire stickers. The
stickers pass through the 1/4" mahogany table, which also serves as their
register, and push the pallets open. All the stickers are original and the
action is pleasing to play and surprisingly responsive; in spite of the tiny
pallets, a definite pluck can still be felt in the keys. Key bushings are wood
on round brass pins, and the keys are covered in their original ivory. The
pallet springs are brass, clearly factory-made, and were still all perfectly
regulated when I checked them. No spring varied from all the others more than
1/4 ounce. I left them unchanged. The builder solved one problem with the
keyboard in a rather clever way. Since the keyboard is so short, it is not
possible to place the usual 19th-century style lead-weighted floating thumper
rail behind the nameboard. The builder instead installed the nameboard itself
in loose dados in the stop jambs so that its felted bottom edge simply sits on
the keys, keeping them in tension and making it possible to adjust them
perfectly level. When seasonal changes occur, the nameboard itself simply rides
up and down in the dados. (Of course, since this particular nameboard has no
actual name, it must be a nameboard in name only).

The stop action would seem to need no mention, except for
the stop to the left of the keyboards. The single knob to the right pulls on
the tiny slider for the Principal 4', which leaves the knob on the left with no
job to do at all. However, the builder thoughtfully provided a slotted block so
that the knob, which does absolutely nothing, can be pulled out just like its
brother on the right. The disappointing aspect is that the Principal had its
original engraved ivory disc, but the ivory disc on the left was missing. I
glued in a blank ivory disc for appearance's sake, but I will always wonder
what the label on the dummy knob said. Perhaps it might have even been engraved
with the builder's name.

Pipework

The pipework is unusual from the start in that both ranks
are metal: a Dulciana 8' and Principal 4'. The Dulciana has the usual wooden
bass of the period: large scaled, low cut-up and quinty. No identifying marks
were found on any of the pipes, not even on the seven zinc pipes of the
Dulciana (F18-B24). Early zinc often had an embossed stamp identifying the
(often French) manufacturer. The rest of the pipework is common metal. The
wooden basses were labeled in distinctive block lettering, with pencil, very
unlike the elegant old cursive one usually sees on 19th-century pipes. (I have
seen identical lettering on one other set of New England stopped basses which
the OCH found in an 1890s organ. The pipes were basses to a chimney flute, and
the entire stop had been completely reworked and re-scaled for its second use.
Alas, these pipes were also of unknown provenance).

I can find no rhyme or reason for the varying mouth widths
and variable scales. Surely part of the reason is that the common metal
pipework betrays the hand of a somewhat inexperienced pipemaker. While in
general neatly made, the solder seams are not as smooth and perfect as one
usually sees on 19th-century American pipework. It is particularly
disconcerting to see a pinhole of light shining through from the back of the
pipe when one is looking in through the mouth. These pinholes occur where the
back seam of the body meets the back seam of the foot at the languid, and are
present on several pipes. They did not particularly affect the pipes'
performance, so I left them. It does seem likely that scales were made
deliberately small in the tenor range of both ranks simply so that pipes could
be made to fit in the very cramped quarters. The very fat stopped wood basses
take up a huge amount of space, making it necessary to cram the metal pipes
into a very small area. Both ranks increase several scales in size from tenor
to treble: the Dulciana gets four scales larger, and the Principal increases by
three. (See pipe scale chart.)

From the chart, one can see that the cut-ups are all over
the map. The Principal seems to have a fairly even increase in cut-up toward
the treble, but the Dulciana seems to follow no discernible pattern. Mouth
widths are more predictable, generally hovering between 1/4 and 2/9.

The original pitch was fairly easy to ascertain. The pipes
seemed most comfortable speaking at 21/4"; at that pressure at 70 degrees,
the pitch was about A432. Since the whole point of this project was to make the
organ useful to an early music ensemble, the decision was made to fit tuning
sleeves carefully onto the pipes, and lower the pitch as much as possible. This
is a completely reversible procedure, with the added benefit being that it did
not require tampering with the tops of the pipes at all. The organ pitch is now
A421, not as low as the A415 the early music players had hoped for, but still
low enough that the instruments can tune to it easily.

One remarkable aspect of the tuning is that the Dulciana,
which showed no real signs of having been tampered with, was almost completely
in tune with the pipes at dead length and the few errant pipes brought into
regulation. A few chords quickly revealed that the keys of C, D, F and G were
close to pure, while the remote keys (B, F#, Db) were quite out of tune. This
sparked a lively discussion with Marian about temperament, and after some
research into early music temperaments (research done entirely by Marian) we
decided to tune the organ to Erlangen comma, which yields perfect thirds
between c and e, & d and f#. This temperament dates to the 15th century,
and is particularly suited to use with viols, avoiding the tuning conflicts which
mean-tone introduces between keyboard and viols.

Playing the organ is truly like stepping back in time;
voicing from this era demands less from each pipe than our modern ears
ordinarily expect. The gentle metal trebles in conjunction with the quinty wood
bass is a quintessentially early sound; virtually no one was still building
organs with that inimitable sound by 1860. Adding the small Principal 4' to the
Dulciana is an exercise in judicious restraint more than it is an augmentation
of the sound. All in all, it is an instrument from a different time and place,
built for sensibilities and perceptions unique to its milieu. Other than
changing the pitch, we did nothing to the instrument to make it more relevant
or modern. It so happens that leaving things as they were makes the organ
almost perfect for the customer's use. The subtle tone and slightly unsteady
wind work almost seamlessly with a small consort of viols da gamba. Placing the
instrument in a small room brings the sound into context, and music begins to
make sense on it. It is truly a chamber organ, and is at home in that
environment.     

The author wishes to thank Barbara Owen for her gracious and
invaluable assistance in seeking the origins of this instrument; Marian
Moffett, for her research on a multiplicity of subjects; and Will Dunklin, for
his generous help in bringing the organ to Tennessee as well as for insightful
advice during the project.

Pipe scale chart

Principal 4' (labeled "Pr.") TC 42 pipes

Note        Diameter
style='mso-tab-count:1'>                 
Mouth
width      Ratio
of mouth width    Cut-up
style='mso-tab-count:1'> 
Ratio of cut-up                       
style="mso-spacerun: yes">  
Toe size

C13           41m
style='mso-tab-count:1'>         
29m
        .225
        7.8m
      .190
style='mso-tab-count:1'>       
3.98m

C25           22.5m
style='mso-tab-count:1'>   
18m         .254
style='mso-tab-count:1'>       
4.5m
style='mso-tab-count:1'>     
.200
style='mso-tab-count:1'>       
2.99m

C37           15.8m
style='mso-tab-count:1'>   
12m         .241
style='mso-tab-count:1'>       
3.0m
style='mso-tab-count:1'>     
.189
style='mso-tab-count:1'>       
2.28m

C49          10m
style='mso-tab-count:1'>         
7.2m
      .229
style='mso-tab-count:1'>       
2.1m
style='mso-tab-count:1'>     
.210
style='mso-tab-count:1'>       
2.03m

F54            7.5m
style='mso-tab-count:1'>       
6m
style='mso-tab-count:1'>           
.254
        1.9m
      .253
style='mso-tab-count:1'>       
1.77m

 

Dulciana (labeled "Dul") 54 pipes

C1              110x90m
                90m
                                21.8m
  .242

C13          64x52
  52m                                 11.2m
  .215

E17          55x43
  43m                                 10m
        .232

F18           58m
        45m
style='mso-tab-count:1'>         
.246
        11.8m
  .203         6.09m

C25          42.7m
  31m         .231
style='mso-tab-count:1'>       
7.5m
style='mso-tab-count:1'>     
.175
style='mso-tab-count:1'>       
5m

C37          27.5m
  21m         .243
style='mso-tab-count:1'>       
3.9m
style='mso-tab-count:1'>     
.141
style='mso-tab-count:1'>       
3.04m

C49          17m
        13.1m
  .245         3.4m
style='mso-tab-count:1'>       
.200
style='mso-tab-count:1'>       
2.71m

F54           13.5m
  10m         .235
style='mso-tab-count:1'>       
2.5m
style='mso-tab-count:1'>     
.185
style='mso-tab-count:1'>       
2.38m

The ratio of the mouth width is in relation to the
circumference: .250 would be 1/4 mw and so on. The ratio of the cut-up is a
simple ratio of the diameter.

A Caledonian Odyssey: Historical Keyboard Instruments in Scotland

Sarah Mahler Hughes

Sarah Mahler Hughes is Professor of Music, Organist of the College, and Chair of the Music Department at Ripon College, where she has taught since 1989. In July 2002 she appeared as a guest recitalist at the XVI Festival Internazionale Storici Organi della Valsesia in Campertogno (Piedmont), Italy. A special scholarly/artistic grant enabled her to examine and play a number of historic organs in Germany, including the 1687 Schnitger organ at the church of St. Peter and Paul in Cappel. In July 2004 she examined and played historic keyboard instruments in the Russell Collection at the University of Edinburgh, Scotland and in other cities.

Default

A recent holiday in Scotland provided many opportunities to see and play organs and other historical instruments in addition to being a tourist in this beautiful country. My children and I spent two weeks visiting friends in St. Madoes. Using this village between Perth and Dundee as our home base, we toured much of the country and experienced Scottish history and hospitality firsthand. The trip was made possible in part by a scholarly/artistic grant from Ripon College.

Our first stop was Edinburgh. En route to the Castle we wandered into St. Giles' Cathedral, where John Knox initiated the Scottish Reformation in 1560. The Chancel Choir of the First United Methodist Church of Lubbock, Texas, was rehearsing in preparation for a lunchtime concert, and I heard Mozart's Ave Verum Corpus accompanied on the beautiful 1992 Rieger. The organ is one of the instruments featured on the 2-CD set, Twelve Organs of Edinburgh.1

The next organ I saw, and the first one I played, was in Old Saint Paul's [Scottish Episcopal] Church in Edinburgh. Built by Henry "Father" Willis in 1888 and subsequently refurbished in 1905, 1936, 1960, 1968 and most recently, by Nicholson's of Worcester in 1977, the specifications are as follows:

Great

16' Dulciana

8' Open Diapason I

8' Open Diapason II

8' Stopped Flute

8' Dulciana

4' Principal

4' Spindle Flute

22/3' Twelfth

2' Fifteenth

III–IV Mixture

8' Trumpet

Swell

8' Open Diapason

8' Lieblich Gedackt

8' Salicional

8' Celeste (TC)

4' Gemshorn

III–IVMixture

16' Contra Oboe

8' Cornopean

Tremulant

Pedal

32' Subbass (derived)

16' Open Diapason (wood)

16' Bourdon

16' Dulciana (Great)

8' Octave (ext)

8' Bass Flute (ext)

8' Dulciana (ext)

4' Super Octave (ext)

4' Octave Flute (ext)

4' Dulcet (ext)

16’            Trombone (ext Trumpet)

8' Trumpet (Great)

The organ has a rich, warm sound eminently suitable for both service accompaniment and solo organ repertoire. A sample of the former may be heard on the CD Hearts & Voices, Hymns sung by the Choir of Old Saint Paul's Church.2

The following day I was privileged to spend several hours playing instruments in the Russell Collection of Early Keyboard Instruments in St. Cecilia's Hall at the University of Edinburgh. John Kitchen, Senior Lecturer and College Organist, was my tour guide as we worked our way through two rooms of virginals, spinets, and harpsichords from the 16th to 19th centuries.3 There were also three organs in the collection, and this seems the most appropriate place to mention them.

The first is an enharmonic chamber organ built by Thomas Parker in 1765. Parker was a pupil of Richard Bridge, a London builder favored by Handel.4 Bridge himself was supposedly trained by Renatus Harris. The  instrument has one manual with the usual short octave at the bottom. The real curiosity is a set of levers, two on each side of the case above the keyboard, that allow the player to select accidentals: Ab or G# and Bb or A# on the left-hand side, Db or C# and Eb or D# on the right. Parker provided a set of pipes for each pitch and the organ case is correspondingly wider than that of the usual chamber organ. What a fascinating way to learn firsthand about mean-tone tuning! It's also interesting to imagine how a player would handle a chromatic piece—assistants might be required to change the levers during a performance. The four registers of the organ include a Stopt [sic] Diapason 8', Open Diapason 8' (which only extends to tenor C, requiring both diapasons to be played together in order to use the full range of the keyboard), Principal 4', and Fifteenth 2'. Dr. Kitchen has recorded Stanley's Voluntary in G, op. 7, no. 9, and Handel's Fugue in A minor, op. 3, on the Parker organ.5 Interestingly, Parker built a second, two-manual enharmonic organ for the Foundling Hospital in 1768.

Another 18th-century chamber organ dates from 1763, the date when St. Cecilia's Hall opened. The organ was used in concerts until the hall closed in 1798. (The hall, having been refurbished in the 1960s, is once again the venue for concerts featuring instruments from the Russell Collection.) The third instrument, located in the Newman Gallery, is a Bernard "Father" Smith chamber organ from c. 1680. The specifications, which consist entirely of divided stops, are:

Bass

8' Diapason Bass

4' Principal Bass

2' Fifteenth

Treble

8' Diapason Treble

4' Principal Treble

2' Octave Treble

[rebuilt by Mander]

Wind is supplied through either a foot bellows or a modern electric blower. All of the above chamber organs reflect the disposition of English organs built after the restoration of the monarchy in 1660; i.e., principal stops at 8', 4', and 2' and, in the case of the Parker, stopped diapasons at 8'. The conventional registrational pattern of the time included solo stops plus accompaniment (hence the usefulness of the divided stops arrangement), diapasons (open plus stopped) for slow introductory movements, and full organ (8', 4', and 2') for faster movements. Stephen Bicknell has suggested that "There was a considerable revival of interest [in chamber organs] in the second half of the 18th century contemporary with (and perhaps because of) the great popularity of Handel, who seems regularly to have used small or even portable organs when playing continuo and for the performance of organ concertos as interludes to larger works."6   Bicknell also states that

By the end of the eighteenth century the chamber organ was firmly established as the instrument of choice for a well-to-do household, challenging both the harpsichord and the emerging fortepiano. The relative stability of tuning compared to a stringed keyboard instrument must have been an advantage, but it should also be noted that a small organ is a good vehicle not just for keyboard music, but also for transcriptions of instrumental works, and could readily be used for the accompaniment of family prayers.

He concludes that the organ's qualities of "reliability, versatility and dignity" must have accounted for its popularity.7

A greater contrast with these historical instruments than the McEwan Hall organ at the University of Edinburgh cannot be imagined. Built by Robert Hope-Jones in 1897, rebuilt by Henry Willis in 1953 and by Rushworth and Dreaper in 1980, the organ has problems because of the disparate placement of its divisions (the hall was designed without provisions for an organ, even though it was common for municipal concert halls at that time to include large instruments). Nonetheless, the organ sounds grand in the reverberant acoustics of the hall, where university graduations are held. The console looks a bit like a Jules Verne creation with its pressure gauges and electric dials, one of which is connected to the swell pedal to show incremental gradation (or "incremental frustration" as it's known to players).

The preceding organ and those described below all date from the second half of the 19th century, living testaments to the phenomenal rate of growth in organ building in England between 1860 and 1900. A few statistics tell the tale: in 1898, Harrison & Harrison of Durham claimed to have built 1,100 organs since 1861. Norman & Beard of Norwich produced even more astonishing numbers: between 1898 when their new factory was built and 1915 the company built over 1,000 new organs. In comparison, Sauer of Germany reached opus 1,000 only after fifty years of activity.8 Reasons for the rapid expansion in English organ building are numerous and include the wholesale replacement of older instruments, particularly those with a limited compass, increased prosperity of the middle class, which paid for new church instruments, and the construction of municipal concert halls in towns of any size.

The next organs I played were in Dundee, the fourth-largest city in Scotland. Three distinguished instruments exist in a three-block area in the heart of the city, which is pleasant and pedestrian-friendly. The first organ is located in St. Mary's Parish Church (Church of Scotland). I had not called ahead—in fact, I was simply being a tourist walking about Dundee and decided to poke my head in since the front door was open. Upon seeing the rich interior and a magnificent display of pipes in the rear balcony, I asked the volunteer guide if I might look at the organ. She very graciously assented, and I was delighted to discover a large three-manual instrument built in 1865 by Forster and Andrew of Hull and subsequently rebuilt by Rothwell (1939) and J. W. Walker (1969 and 1988). The console was open and inviting, so it was only a matter of minutes before I was actually playing. The specifications are:

Great

16' Double Diapason

8' Open Diapason 1

8' Open Diapason 2

8' Stopped Diapason

4' Principal

22/3' Harmonic Flute

2' Twelfth

2' Fifteenth

II Sesquialtera

IV Mixture

16' Double Trumpet

8' Trumpet (ext)

4' Clarion (ext)

Swell

8' Open Diapason

8' Viola da Gamba

8' Voix celeste

4' Principal

4' Lieblich Flute

2' Flageolet

III Mixture

16' Contra Fagotto

8' Cornopean

8' Oboe

4' Clarion

Super Octave

Sub Octave

Choir

8' Rohr Flute

8' Salicional

4' Gedeckt Flute

22/3' Principal

2' Nazard

2' Flautina

13/5' Tierce

11/3' Larigot

III Cymbel

8' Krummhorn

16' Double Trumpet

8' Trumpet (ext)

4' Clarion (ext)

Pedal

16' Open Diapason

16' Sub Bass

8' Flute Bass (ext)

8' Violoncello (ext)

4' Choral Bass (ext)

16’ Trombone

8' Tromba (ext)

A full battery of couplers and pistons plus an 8-channel memory system makes this organ suited for many kinds of repertoire. I only had time to try a voluntary by Stanley and a Buxtehude toccata before my younger daughter came looking for me (I'd left her and her sister parked outside), but I was impressed by the sound and feel of the organ in this parish church that in 1990 celebrated its octocentenary.

My serendipitous sampling of organs in Dundee continued on another day at St. Paul's Episcopal Cathedral. As churches go in Scotland, it is rather new, the cornerstone having been laid in 1853. The organ was built by Hill and Son of London in 1865, the year of the Cathedral's consecration. Hill, Norman and Beard reconstructed the instrument in 1975. Like the organs I saw in other British churches (with the exception of St. Mary's), this instrument is located in the choir with the pipes facing the singers. The organist's back is to the choir. The disposition of this large organ is similar to St. Mary's:

Great

16' Double Diapason

8' Open Diapason

8' Stopped Diapason

8' Gemshorn

8' Viole d'amour

4' Principal

4' Harmonic Flute

22/3' Twelfth

2' Fifteenth

IVMixture

8' Grand Trumpet

Swell

8' Open Diapason

8' Stopped Diapason

8' Viole d'orchestre*

8' Viole Celestes

4' Principal

2' Fifteenth

II Mixture

16' Shalmey

8' Cornopean

8' Oboe

4' Clairon

Suboctave

[Super] Octave

Choir

8' Lieblich Gedeckt

8' Gamba

4' Suabe Flute

2' Flautina

11/3' Larigot

8' Grand Trumpet

8' Clarinet

Sub Octave

[Super] Octave

Tremulant

Pedal

32' Harmonic Bass

16' Bourdon

16' Echo Bourdon**

16' Open Diapason

8' Bass Flute

8' Octave

4' Super Octave

4' Flute

2' Octave

16' Trombone

4' Clairon

Sub Octave

[Super] Octave

Unison Off

Tremulant

Swell & Choir under expression

Sw-Ch, Sw-Gt, Ch-Gt, manual-pedal couplers

General (4) and divisional pistons

* Very stringlike; works especially well with the Viole Celestes

** Enhances the Bourdon 16'

As was the case at St. Mary's, I was allowed access to the organ by helpful parishioners. When I arrived at St. Paul's on a Saturday morning, the only person I could find on the premises (even though the front doors were wide open and a charity hamburger stand was getting ready to open for business on the front steps) was the verger. He led me to the instrument, turning on power switches and lights as we went, saying "We have to show you Scottish hospitality!" I played for an hour, trying out various sounds and combinations and finally let it rip with the Widor Toccata. Feeling self-indulgent but happy with the sonic results, I set about changing my shoes and packing up when I was startled by two members of the flower committee who appeared and thanked me for playing. They told me that people in the street, hearing the music, had stopped to peer inside the church, probably wondering if a wedding were in progress.

A third large organ exists in Dundee within blocks of St. Mary's and St. Paul's. Situated approximately midway between the two churches is Caird Hall, Dundee's civic auditorium. The organ was built in 1922 by Harrison & Harrison to a design by the famous blind organist of Edinburgh, Alfred Hollins. The Caird Hall organ was Harrison & Harrison's first concert hall organ; as such it differs from some of their other instruments in having brighter reeds (on heavier pressure than usual) and more orchestral colors than the average church organ. In 1991 the organ was restored by the original firm with only minor changes to its original sound. No tonal changes were made, but the pitch was raised to make the organ usable with other instruments. Carlo Curley played the rededication recital on this occasion. A stoplist follows:

Great

16' Double Geigen

16' Bourdon (wood and metal)

8' Large Open Diapason

8' Small Open Diapason

8' Geigen

8' Hohlflute

8' Rohrflute

4' Octave

4' Waldflute

22/3' Octave Quint

2' Super Octave

IV Harmonics 17,19,b21,22

16' Contra Tromba

8' Tromba

4' Octave Tromba

Swell

8' Open Diapason

8' Stopped Diapason

8' Echo Salicional

8' Vox Angelica

4' Octave Geigen

4' Stopped flute (metal)

2' Fifteenth

V Mixture 12,19,22,26,29

8' Oboe

8' Vox Humana

Tremulant

16' Double Trumpet

8' Trumpet

8' Horn

4' Clarion

Orchestral Organ

16' Double Salicional (metal)

8' Viole d'Orchestre

8' Violes Celestes (to FF, 2 ranks)

8' Harmonic Flute

4' Concert Flute (harmonic)

2' Harmonic Piccolo

16' Cor Anglais

8' Corno di Bassetto

8' Orchestral Oboe

Tremulant

8' Tuba (unenclosed)

Pedal

32' Double Open Wood (FFFF)

16' Open Wood

16' Open Diapason (metal, leathered)

16' Geigen (Gt)

16' Salicional (Orch organ)

16' Subbass (Gt)

8' Octave (wood)

8' Flute (Gt)

16' Ophicleide (metal)

16' Trombone (Gt)

8' Posaune

The organ's pneumatic action has been fitted with an electronic memory, and the combination pedals removed and replaced with toe pistons. Otherwise, the instrument remains as it was originally. A concert series in the early autumn featured the organ and it was recorded in October 2004. I was unable to play the Caird Hall organ because of a guitar festival in progress, but the staff was most helpful in showing me the console and wind system and providing me with specifications for the instrument.

Some general observations can be made, at this point, about the organs I saw in Scotland. The large instruments are originally from the 19th century and are based on an orchestral tonal design with a preponderance of stops at 8' pitch. The pedal divisions rely heavily on extensions from the manuals. Bicknell identifies the philosophy underlying this esthetic as ‘build-up:' "the gradual crescendo from piano to fortissimo achieved by adding stops one by one, [which] seems to be the dominant characteristic of these Victorian instruments."9 It works in this wise: flue pipes come in many colors, from clear and fluty to reedy with harmonic overtones. As the flues approach the reedy end of the spectrum, mild strings and reeds come into play, creating a smooth blend. Swell-to-Great couplers further increase fullness of sound while masking any addition of single stops, and the Swell pedal also assists in creating a smooth crescendo. As Bicknell points out,

This manner of playing was later to become an idée fixe with English builders and players . . . As a method it was taken so much for granted that it can safely be assumed that Willis's mixtures were not usually intended to be heard unless some reeds were already drawn . . . there is no provision for a chorus of principals and mixtures that can be used extensively on its own: this is . . . in complete contrast to German taste.10

Although the reference is to instruments built by Willis, the description is general enough to be applied to other large late-19th and early 20th-century organs.

Perhaps it seems incongruous that all of the organs I saw and played in Scotland were built by English firms. Were there no Scottish organbuilders in the 19th century and earlier? Regardless of how we might think of Britons as members of a United Kingdom, there are national differences among the English, Scots, Welsh, and Irish. A bit of research was necessary to unearth information about organbuilding in Scotland, from which a clearer picture emerges of the past three centuries.

At the heart of the question is the ban on instruments in church issued by the Church of Scotland from the Reformation (around 1560) until around 1868.11 Organs were allowed for concerts and domestic use, but none were built or installed in this denomination until a very late date. Other denominations—the Episcopal, Roman Catholic, Unitarian, Congregationalist, and Baptist churches—were exempt, and instruments dating from the 18th century are known to have existed in them.12 Early 19th-century Scottish organbuilders, including Small, Bruce & Co of Edinburgh, John Renton, also of Edinburgh, and Robert Mirrlees of Glasgow, specialized in chamber organs, at least two of which are extant.13 I was very surprised to learn that the oldest surviving Glasgow-built organ was made by James Watt in 1762. The renowned engineer and inventor, associated more with the first steam engine than with pipe organs, constructed a single-manual instrument concealed in a table. It was the first of three organs built by Watt.14

In the second half of the 19th century, other firms arose in Dundee, Aberdeen, and Edinburgh, but they found it difficult to compete with the well-established English builders. An admittedly cursory search for information on Scottish builders in the 19th and early 20th centuries produced nothing—but perhaps a written history is in progress.

Today, Lammermuir Pipe Organs (est. 1983) is perhaps the best-known firm in Scotland and the only workshop "north of the border" specializing in new, mechanical-action organs.15 Op. 50 is scheduled for completion in 2005. The other company listed in an Internet link to pipe organ builders in the United Kingdom is Michael Macdonald (est. 1975) of Glasgow.16 Interestingly, besides building new instruments, Macdonald engages in rescuing historic organs from redundant buildings (primarily churches closed due to dwindling congregations).

I would like to think of my visit to Scotland as a prelude to further organ crawls  there and in other parts of the United Kingdom. There are many instruments to be played and much history to be learned in these islands.  

53rd OHS National Convention

Seattle, Tacoma, Olympia, July 13–18, 2008

Frank Rippl

Frank Rippl is a graduate of Lawrence University Conservatory of Music, where he studied with Miriam Clapp Duncan and Wolfgang Rübsam. He is co-founder of the Appleton Boychoir, coordinator of the Lunchtime Organ Recital Series in the Appleton, Wisconsin area, and has been organist/choirmaster at All Saints’ Episcopal Church in Appleton since 1971.

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On the day before I was to leave for the Organ Historical Society’s 53rd National Convention, I was eating a sandwich and reading the paper. I never read my horoscope, but for some reason I happened to glance at mine (Cancer) and was startled to read: “You’re being taken to beautiful places where there is great attention to detail and where you are enveloped in someone else’s grand vision. Sit back and enjoy the unfolding spectacle.” That got my attention. I had been to Seattle many times before and knew many of the instruments we were to hear, but OHS conventions always put a different spin on things and shine a spotlight on the instruments themselves. I couldn’t wait to experience “someone else’s grand vision” of those instruments and the buildings in which they stand, and, of course, the many outstanding players and builders in the Pacific Northwest. It is, as our handbook stated: “A Young Yet Vibrant History.” Each registrant had received the OHS Seattle 2008 Organ Atlas in the mail before we left on our respective journeys to the West Coast: 174 lavishly illustrated and painstakingly researched pages on the venues and instruments we would visit. The team that put this colorful document together is to be congratulated. So, thus armed, we were ready and eager to get started.

Sunday, July 13
We began with some pre-convention activities on Sunday night. The weather was perfect: a clear sky and temperatures in the low 70s as our buses climbed through the Capitol Hill neighborhood to St. Mark’s Episcopal Cathedral overlooking Puget Sound. St. Mark’s was to have been a grand Gothic structure, but the stock market crash of the late 1920s brought those dreams to a halt. They were left with what is now lovingly called “The Holy Box.” But it is still grand in its own way and with great acoustics.
Once inside, convention chair David Dahl welcomed us, calling it “a gathering of the family.” There were 310 of us greeting old friends and meeting new ones from all over the world with a common interest: love of the organ.

We came this night, of course, to hear the landmark 4-m 1965 Flentrop organ, with its spectacular and breathtaking 32′ copper façade, in a concert by Thomas Joyce, the assistant organist at St. Mark’s, followed by Compline. Joyce played Pictures at an Exhibition by Modest Mussorgsky (1870–1937) as transcribed by Keith Johns. He managed to make this very romantic score work quite well on this beautiful mid-20th century organ with all its neo-baroque accents. My favorite was “Bydlo,” the ever-nearing ox cart thundering past us with its great weight, and then disappearing over the hill; the snarling reeds were very effective. The humor in “The Ballet of the Unhatched Chicks” was most engaging. The organ sparkled as tiny beaks struggled to break through their encasing shells. The majesty of “The Great Gate of Kiev” brought the piece to an end. The sweeping acoustics of this great church and the underpinning of the mighty and blazing reeds and the 32′ stops lifted us from from our pews. It was a brilliant performance.
There was a 40-minute intermission of sorts between concert and Compline. Halfway through this interval, David Dahl invited us to enter into a spirit of silence prior to the beautiful and famous Compline service, sung each Sunday evening since 1955 at St. Mark’s by a volunteer choir of about fifteen men. It usually attracts anywhere from 500–1000 young people who stretch out on the floor or the pews, some bringing bedrolls. They absorb the simple beauty of the chants and the readings. It is broadcast live over KING-FM radio, and can be heard worldwide via the Internet.
We became silent as the hundreds of young people joined us. The sun set, the lights dimmed, candles were lit. There were no “praise” bands, no guitars, no drums. The choir entered wearing black cassocks and long white surplices. They stood in the back of the church in a corner. They were led by Peter Hallock, Canon Precentor Emeritus, who founded the choir and is composer of much of the music they sing. The chanting was elegant and refined but never precious. The tuning in the homophonic sections was perfect. The beautiful anthem was Canon Hallock’s If We Could Shut the Gate, scored for male voices, violin, and organ. It was a tranquil and quietly spiritual end to the first day.

Monday, July 14
Our hotel was the Holiday Inn at the airport, standing in a cluster of airport hotels, including one called “The Clarion Hotel.” My room had a great view of Mount Rainier rising majestically over the “Clarion.” We had a great rate of $82.00 per night, which included a lavish breakfast. Trouble was, we always had an 8:00 a.m. departure. So, if we wished to dine in what was a rather small dining area, we had to be down there by 6:00!

Monday morning took us into downtown Seattle to Benaroya Concert Hall to hear Carole Terry demonstrate the large 3-m concert hall organ by C. B. Fisk. The simple façade of this organ includes some of the open wood pipes of the 32′ Prestant. I’m not normally a big fan of wooden façade pipes, but these blended well with the browns and tans of the Benaroya complex; also in the 32′ department: Untersatz 32′, Tuba Profunda 32′, and Grosse Quinte 102⁄3′. The room is notorious for its poor bass response and generally dry acoustic, so all that 32′ tone proved to be necessary to fill out the bottom of the range.
David Dahl introduced Ms. Terry as “Seattle’s First Lady of the Organ.” She began her program with Dahl’s fine Fanfare Introduction: The National Anthem, which we then sang. She continued with three chorale preludes by Bach, putting various solo voices on display: the reeds, the cornet, and the flutes. Next was William Bolcom’s Sweet Hour of Prayer, in which we heard the Fisk’s strings and foundation stops. Then three pieces from François Couperin’s Messe pour les Convents: Plein Jeu, Premier Couplet du Gloria; Duo sur les Tierces, Troisième Couplet; and Chromorne sur la Taille, Cinquième Couplet, which showed that this versatile organ can speak French quite well. Sowerby’s beautiful Air with Variations showed off the Swell strings, the Solo Clarinet, and later the Flauto Mirabilis. These were full-throated and wonderful pipes! Carole Terry’s last piece was the opening Allegro Vivace from Widor’s Symphonie No. 5. This heavily land-mined piece caused her to stumble slightly a few times, but she managed to bring it off. Her melodic lines were nicely delineated. She chose her literature and registrations well. None of us could come away from this recital complaining that we didn’t hear a fine demonstration of this important instrument—part of a new generation of American concert hall organs.

We then crossed Lake Washington on the Pontoon Bridge and climbed quite high above Puget Sound through well-manicured properties to Holy Rosary Catholic Church in Edmonds, Washington, to hear the church’s 1887 Geo. Kilgen & Son organ, the only surviving 3-m Kilgen tracker. Christopher Marks, assistant professor of organ at the University of Nebraska, was our soloist. Holy Rosary is a modern church built in the round, with the organ standing to the right of the altar. The organ came from the First Baptist Church in Los Angeles, and was relocated to Holy Rosary in 1980 via the Organ Clearing House.
Marks opened with a toccata from Première Suite pour Grand-Orgue (1900) by Felix Borowski (1872–1956, a son of Polish immigrants), which began on the Swell with shades closed, and built to a fortissimo. Another piece by Borowski followed: Allegretto-Allegro leggiero from his Third Sonata (1924), which demonstrated some of the soft sounds of this lovely organ. Two andantes by American-trained organist George F. Bristow (1829–1898) from his Six Pieces for the Organ (1883) were followed by a hymn by Thomas Hastings: “Hail to the Brightness of Zion’s Glad Morning” to the tune Wesley by Lowell Mason. He closed with four selections from Seth Bingham’s Seven Preludes or Postludes on Lowell Mason Hymns (1945), which sounded just dandy on this organ. He played Nos. 1, 2, 4, & 5; the first was based on the hymn we had just sung. I especially liked #4: “Watchman, Tell Us of the Night.” He used the reeds to great effect. I recommend these pieces! Marks, a fine player, gave us a great OHS recital with well-chosen literature to demonstrate the many lovely sounds of this organ.
Our fleet of buses took us to the attractive Trinity Lutheran Church in Lynnwood, Washington, where we were served a tasty box lunch. At 1:00, the tireless convention chairman David Dahl gave a fascinating address: “Tracker Organbuilding in the Pacific Northwest.” He traced the arrival of American tracker organs from the East Coast in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. In the mid-20th century, European tracker organs were brought in. The famous Flentrop at St. Mark’s Cathedral in Seattle is a good example. There were others, too: St. Thomas Episcopal Church in Medina has a Metzler from 1971. But late in the 20th century, the Pacific Northwest began to get its own voice from builders such as John Brombaugh, Paul Fritts, and Martin Pasi.

We would hear many fine instruments by these gentlemen and others. In fact, one of them stood to Dahl’s right: Martin Pasi’s beautiful Opus 4 from 1995. This 2-m, 30-stop, mechanical action organ is in a freestanding black walnut case, with eight Italianate arches serving to frame the façade pipes. It was demonstrated by Julia Brown, who was born in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, and received her graduate-level training in organ at Northwestern University studying with Wolfgang Rübsam. She opened with a jolly Noël by Jean-Francois Dandrieu, then two fantasias by Louis Couperin. A charming chorale prelude by Scheidemann was then played on the clear 4′ flutes. Next was a beautiful chorale prelude on Wie schön leuchet der Morgenstern by Niels Gade (1817–1890), leading into the hymn by the same name, which she and the organ led with great ease and grace. Another Noël followed, this one by José Jesus Estrada (1817–1890): Noel en estilo frances del siglo XVIII, which demonstrated more of this wonderful organ’s stops including the Zimbelstern. Brown closed her recital with Buxtehude’s Praeludium in F, BuxWV, in which we heard the fine influence of Professor Rübsam. This was another outstanding recital.
Our buses took us back on the road for a visit to Blessed Sacrament Church in Seattle. The huge building, with gorgeous gardens and a school across the street, loomed large in the neighborhood. The organ stood in the left transept. It came from St. Dominic’s Roman Catholic Church in San Francisco, and was installed in Blessed Sacrament in 2005. The organ began life as an instrument by Henry Erben for a church in Nyack, New York, and was rebuilt by Francis J. N. Tallman (1860–1950), who essentially made it a new instrument. It was rebuilt again in 1914 by Michael A. Clark, and then moved to San Francisco. St. Dominic’s decided after remodeling that the organ no longer met their needs, so it ended up at Blessed Sacrament.
We had arrived early, so Scott Huntington gave us an impromptu introduction to the history of this fascinating instrument as only he can. That, plus the first-rate account of this organ written in the convention atlas by Stephen Pinel, provided us with unusually thorough preparation for the concert.
Our performer was OHS favorite George Bozeman. He began his demonstration of this 2-m, 15-stop organ with
C. P. E. Bach’s Sonate in G Minor, Wq 70/6, perfectly suited to this fine organ. The hymn was “Love Divine, All Loves Excelling” (tune Beecher). He then played his own transcription of Four Sketches, op. 15, by Amy Beach (1867–1944), quite intoxicating and evocative: “In Autumn,” “Phantoms,” “Dreaming,” and “Fire-flies.” George, if you haven’t published these pieces, please do! The music and your performance were both great!

Our next stop was a happy return to St. Mark’s Episcopal Cathedral back on Capitol Hill. We had time to peruse the fine cathedral shop, where we were given a 10% discount. We also had a cocktail party with delicious snacks on the cathedral grounds, followed by a fine Bastille Day French meal in Bloedel Hall. We took turns entering the beautiful Thomsen Chapel, the only part of the cathedral that was finished in Gothic style (one can only imagine what the whole building would have looked like had it been finished), which now contains a jewel of an organ by Paul Fritts & Co., Opus 22, 2003. This 2-m and pedal, 18-stop organ sits in the west balcony and fills the room with its beauty. Thomas Joyce, assistant organist at the cathedral, played brief demonstrations for us. He is a charming young man with a great future.
But the major event of the evening was in the cathedral itself: a brilliant concert by J. Melvin Butler (who, I’m told, is also a superb violist!), canon organist and choirmaster of St. Mark’s. He opened with a dazzling performance of Bach’s Prelude and Fugue in G Minor, BWV 535. Mel Butler’s talented fingers and toes and the marvelous clarity of the Flentrop organ made the music sing. Two selections from Bach’s Leipzig Chorales followed: Nun komm, der Heiden Heiland, BWV 661, in which we heard the solo line on a small cornet with a gentle tremolo; and O Lamm Gottes unschuldig, BWV 656. In the middle section, the upperwork glimmered like light glancing off faceted gemstones. The majestic finale (with the cantus firmus in the pedal) was pure muscularity. The first half of the program ended with Buxtehude’s chorale fantasia on Nun freut euch, lieben Christen g’mein, BuxWV 210. It was first-rate playing by one of Seattle’s best organists on an organ that never fails to thrill.
The second half began with Fanfare for Organ by Richard Proulx, which ran a good circuit through the many trumpet stops, vertical and horizontal. It was followed by In Quiet Joy from a composer new to me: Mark Winges, b. 1951. Lovely flutes and deep-water pedal 16′ stops supported the occasional soft solo reed, then turned to quiet strings briefly, and went on as before. The strings returned supporting a solo flute. It is an exquisite piece. The hymn “When in our music God is glorified,” sung to the tune Kaytlyn by Joseph Downing (1982), was followed by Canon Butler’s Fantasy on “Kaytlyn,” a fine piece with moments of quiet and introspection, ending gently with two rings from a chime.
Butler rounded off his program with two pieces by the great 20th-century American organist and composer Leo Sowerby: Arioso and Toccata. Arioso, with its plaintive call from a quiet reed stop, gave us a sense of serenity tinged with longing. It is a masterpiece, and Butler brought out each poignant nuance. By way of contrast, Sowerby’s fiery Toccata drew the evening and first full day to a rousing and blazing close. Butler’s fleet fingers sent the notes flitting from pillar to pillar in this great “Holy Box.” We cheered!

Tuesday, June 15
Tuesday morning found us high atop our hotel in a circular ballroom with a splendid vista of Mt. Rainier. We had come to hear a loving tribute by Mark Brombaugh to his brother John, a seminal figure in American organ building. The lecture was entitled “Singing Pipes: The Artistic Legacy of Organbuilder John Brombaugh.” Mark explained how John’s early training with Fritz Noack, Charles Fisk and Rudolph von Beckerath influenced him. He then proceeded to trace John Brombaugh’s own ideas of voicing: the vocale style of sound—making pipes sing in a beautiful vocal manner. He went through each of John’s instruments, giving well-thought-out descriptions of each. I was especially interested in his Opus 33, which stands four blocks from my house, on the campus of Lawrence University in Appleton, Wisconsin. It was also fascinating to hear the list of men who had worked with John over the years and who have now gone on to be fine organ builders in their own right. The list reads like a who’s who of American organ building, and includes Fritts, Taylor & Boody, Pasi, Richards & Fowkes. Not bad! It was a most entertaining and informative summing up of a great career.

Our first concert of the day was at St. Matthew’s Episcopal Church in Auburn, Washington, by Carol Foster on the church’s E. & G. G. Hook & Hastings organ, Opus 591 from 1871. Its caramel-colored pipes and honey-like case gleamed in the modern, light-filled room. The program began with the presentation of the OHS Historic Organ Citation for the 2-m, 12-stop instrument—the 368th such citation the society has given to instruments of historic interest. The organ’s first home was in Philadelphia, then in Camden, New Jersey. St. Matthew’s acquired it from the Organ Clearing House.
Carol Foster, a woman with a long and distinguished career, is currently parish musician at St. Augustine’s Episcopal Church on Whidbey Island, Washington. Her first piece this day was a charming Andante & Gavotte from a sonata by Thomas Arne. That was followed by Craig Phillips’s (b. 1960) Prelude on “Divinum mysterium.” The room-filling sound of even the flute stops on this little organ let us know that this was indeed a Hook organ.
Next up was the early American tune “Restoration” from Sacred Sounds by George Shearing (b. 1919), in which Foster gave us a good hearing of the foundation stops. That was followed by Song of Happiness (1914), by Roland Diggle: a sweet, sentimental piece that brought many a smile. Then came Theodore Dubois’ Cantilène religieuse. Foster joked about the tremolo, which was a force unto itself. She used the Oboe (the organ’s only reed), but it sounded like there was a flute with the oboe. She ended with an energetic and jolly performance of Jacques Lemmens’s Fanfare. The hymn “Come, We That Love the Lord” (tune Vineyard Haven) closed this fine recital.
We drove to Olympia, paying a brief visit to handsome government buildings, then went downtown to eat lunch in the lobby of the Washington Center for the Performing Arts. After lunch, Andy Crow performed for us on the theater’s mighty Wurlitzer. He has several silent film scores to his credit. We were treated to his accompaniment to the Laurel and Hardy silent film “Double Whoopee,” which was hysterical. His expert accompaniment kept pace with craziness on the screen. He used the organ’s resources very well, and also played a number of classic American songs. It was a fun midday break.
Our next stop was Spanaway Lutheran Church in Spanaway, Washington, and its attractive 1905 Jesse Woodberry & Co. Opus 225 organ. Built in Boston, it was acquired by the Organ Clearing House. Its walnut case and white façade pipes with gold mouths make for a striking appearance, and its two manuals and 18 ranks work very well in this appealing space, standing as it does to the right of the altar. Much of the restoration work was lovingly done by members of the congregation under the leadership of organbuilder Stephen Cook. Carpeting was pulled up and a hardwood floor was installed.
We began with the presentation of the Historic Organ Citation by Stephen Schnurr. The recital was played by Kevin Birch from Bangor, Maine, where he teaches organ and harpsichord at the University of Maine’s School of the Performing Arts. He began with Arthur Foote’s Festival March, op. 29, no. 1 (1893), which demonstrated the foundation stops nicely—a good solid forte. An additional Foote piece followed: Allegretto, op. 29, no. 2 (1893), which walked us through this fine organ’s softer sounds. The Great Flute d’Amour 4′, played one octave lower, was particularly effective. The Swell shades created an incredible pp. The hymn was “Abide with Me” (Eventide). In a masterful bit of accompanying, he never dominated, he led.
The closing piece was Dudley Buck’s Variations on “The Last Rose of Summer.” Among other fine things, we got to hear the gentle Swell strings. I also liked the Swell Violin Diapason in its rich tenor range. I was struck thus far this week by the number of recitals that ended pianissimo. This was one of them. The magic swell shades on this organ really did their job!

We then went to the Chapel of Trinity Lutheran Church in Tacoma (Parkland). A brass trumpet bedecked with blue ribbons was suspended from a wrought iron stand outside the church’s door to greet us. We came to hear the Geo. Kilgen & Son organ from 1890. Now in its fifth home (!), this well-traveled 2-m and 12-stop organ seems quite happy in its present surroundings. Even though its façade pipes are new, it was given a well-deserved OHS Historic Organ Citation. Our recitalists were husband and wife Tim and Cheryl Drewes. This would be a recital of duet and solo literature, and they jumped right in with Horatio Parker’s Quick March (for two organists). It was played with plenty of brio! Next was Humoresque for organ and piano by Widor—that was new to me. If you are in the market for a good piano/organ duet, I can recommend this one.
Tim Drewes then played Sortie (from L’Organiste Moderne) by Louis James Alfred Lefébure-Wély, which sounded like theatre music—spirited with plenty of contrast. Ah, how different early 19th-century Parisian church music was from what it would become! He then led us in the hymn “All my hope on God is founded” to the tune Michael, written by Herbert Howells and dedicated to his young son Michael, who died of polio. I never fail to be moved by this hymn and tune.
Cheryl then played Rooster Rag by Muriel Pollock (1895–1971), a humorous little piece that would make a good encore. Hopping back on the bench, Tim Drewes played a cheerful Bergamasca by Samuel Scheidt, showing this organ’s versatility. Cheryl Drewes then ended this engaging concert with a fine reading of Mendelssohn’s Sonata in D Major (op. 65, no. 5).
Sometimes you can tell a great deal about an organ builder just by visiting his or her shop. The Paul Fritts & Co. organ shop in Tacoma (Parkland) is a thing of great beauty. The wooden building is stained with an almost amber color. The large main door rises twelve feet or so to a curved arch with faceted wooden insets. We were served wine and snacks and got to look at upcoming projects and parts of an early 19th-century case they are restoring. It was all very inspirational.
We then drove a few blocks to the campus of Pacific Lutheran University. Huge old growth Douglas fir trees towered over rich green lawns and beautiful landscaping. We were served a delicious dinner in the University Center: roast pork with lingonberry sauce! God bless those Swedish Lutherans! We then walked through the beautiful campus to Lagerquist Concert Hall. The building’s entrance windows were decorated in glass flower blossoms by the world-renowned Tacoma artist Dale Chihuly. Upon entering the hall, our eyes beheld the jaw-droppingly gorgeous Paul Fritts organ, Opus 18 from 1998, surely one of the most beautiful organs in North America. The high tin content of the façade pipes and the 250 square feet of basswood pipeshades and fanciful figures all done by Jude Fritts, Paul Fritts’s sister, made for a visual feast. The tall, honey-colored case is made of old-growth Douglas fir logs, which came from local forests including Mount Rainier National Park. The hall itself has adjustable acoustics from one to over four seconds of reverberation.
The recitalist was Paul Tegels, university organist at PLU, who opened his recital with a Toccata in G by Scheidemann. He gave it a grand sweeping sound that seemed to invite us into the world of this instrument. Next we heard two selections from the Netherlands of 1599: from the Susanne van Soldt Manuscript, Branle Champagne and Almande Brun Smeedelyn. Then it was on to four versions of the tune Von Gott will ich nicht lassen, the first a four-part harmonization by J. S. Bach, then three fantasies on Une Jeune Fillette by Eustache du Caurroy (1549–1609), which showed some of the reed stops; the next version of the chorale came from Johann Ludwig Krebs’s Clavierübung, showing us the beautiful flute stops; and the last was a Fantaisie sopra “Une Jeune Fillette” by Bert Matter (b. 1936), which had a variety of sounds rhythmic and pulsating. By the end it receded to quiet flutes, which restated the chorale. Tegels closed the first half of his program with the Praeludium in D Minor (originally E minor) by Nicolaus Bruhns. The small arpeggiated figures on the Positive were delicious. When he brought on the 32′s at the end we were transported. Thrilling playing!
After intermission, we sang the hymn “Ye Watchers and Ye Holy Ones” (Lasst uns erfreuen) with a fine introduction composed by David Dahl. Tegels then treated us to Bach’s Prelude and Fugue in G Major, BWV 541. The boastful, chest-thumping music bounced along with a sense of self satisfaction, the wind system giving us a lovely crescendo on the final chord. Next was a Suite, op. 34, no. 1, by Widor for organ and flute, in which Tegels was joined by flutist Jennifer Rhyne. It was very pretty music that seemed highly agreeable and accessible, although the Scherzo has challenges.
For his final work, Tegels chose Alexandre Guilmant’s Sonata I in D Minor. He invested a great deal of vitality into the Introduction and Allegro, followed by just the right amount of letting up before the da capo. I am so glad that in the last 25 years or so we are hearing Guilmant’s music once again. The wonderful Pastorale, which I like to use during communion or as a prelude, was very nicely played. There are so many fine 8′ sounds on this organ. The Vox Humana buzzed along nicely with the 32′ humming below. Tegels made the Finale burst forth like fireworks, timing it just right to catch us off guard. From start to finish, it was a virtuoso performance by builder, player and architect. We had ended a long day, but our spirits were quite high!

Wednesday July 16
For the most part, this would be “Episcopal Day.” Our first stop on this bright and sunny morning was Seattle’s St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, in the Space Needle area, nestled among several inviting Asian restaurants. The churchyard featured a labyrinth and imaginative landscaping. The organ we were about to hear is quite a remarkable instrument. It hangs by cables from the trusses of this A-frame structure—even the balcony is suspended. Marie-Claire Alain called it “a flying organ.” On paper, the organ, built by Gebr. Späth (Opus 753, 1963, 2-m, 15 stops), seems rather sparse. The only 8′ on the Great is a Koppelfloete. So we were curious to hear how it would do. Walter E. Krueger, from Portland, Oregon, was our performer. He opened with Buxtehude’s Praeludium in D Minor, Bux WV 140, which he played with great flourish. It was immediately clear that this little organ was not afraid to speak up for itself. Next were two of Bach’s Schübler Chorales. Wachet auf used the Great flutes 8′ and 2′, with the Swell Trumpet 8′. The pedal seemed to be Subbass 16′ and the Choralbass 4′. It worked well. Kommst du nun showed off the twinkle in the eye of this neo-baroque organ. Krueger followed that with a gentle reading of Krebs’s Herzlich lieb’ hab ich dich, o Herr, with the ornamented chorale melody on the Swell Cornet with a sweet tremolo. The hymn was “At the Lamb’s High Feast We Sing,” which was sung in alternatim with Pachelbel’s Partita on “Alle Menschen.” It gave us a fine tour of this instrument. Full organ, complete with zimbelstern, was surprisingly hearty. It was a good demonstration recital.
On a very high bridge, we crossed the ship canal that connects Lake Washington with Puget Sound and entered the University District in bright sunshine. We parked in front of our next venue, University Christian Church, a fine structure in English Gothic style. The interior is dark, with a horseshoe balcony. Great swaths of peach and white fabric were hung from the side balconies to the rear balcony to help relieve the darkness. The windows were attractive, and the ceiling was painted in rosettes of deep blue, pale blue, light green and a rich red. This would be our first electro-pneumatic organ: a large Casavant Frères, Ltée., Opus 1302, from 1929, 4-m, 60 stops. It was dedicated by Marcel Dupré on October 29, 1929, and stands in the front of the church, with the pipes in two chambers on either side of the chancel.
Peter Guy, organist and master of the choristers at Christ Church Cathedral, Newcastle, Australia, was our performer. He also serves as director of chapel music at St. Andrew’s College within the University of Sydney. He has concertized all over the world, and had just turned 27 when we heard him—a charming young man with a quick and ready smile. He opened his program with J. S. Bach’s Now Thank We All Our God as arranged by Virgil Fox, which featured the foundation stops and reeds. This is an intact organ—unchanged; it possesses a warm but somewhat brooding sound. Next up was from Bach’s Orgelbüchlein: Christ ist erstanden, BWV 627, which had plenty of energy. Then came a piece by Graham Koehne (b. 1956), “The Morning Star” from his suite To his servant Bach, God grants a final glimpse, which uses the chorale tune “How brightly shines the morning star.” It was written in a Mendelssohnian style, and Guy played it with great sensitivity. I’d like to hear more music by this composer.
Edouard Batiste (1820–1876) provided the next piece, Andante in G “Pilgrim’s Song of Hope”—a character piece of its era, to feature many of the softer sounds of this instrument. Then came a favorite of mine, Rorate Caeli by Jeanne Demessieux, played with great sensitivity. Peter Guy then played Samuel Sebastian Wesley’s Andante in E-flat, which came off quite well on this organ, which is in need of a thorough restoration. The hymn was another favorite of mine, “O Thou Who Camest from Above,” to the tune Hereford by S. S. Wesley. Our tenors had a grand time! He closed with Louis Vierne’s Hymne au soleil, played with lots of grandeur. If I had anything critical to say about this fine recital, it would be that we seemed to hear too much of the same tone quality: rarely a solo reed, for example. I suspect that the condition of the instrument had much to do with that.

St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church in Seattle was next, with a recital on its fine 2-m, 47-rank Bond organ, Opus 23 from 1994. Leslie Martin, organist and director of music at the church, was the performer. The church is an A-frame structure, and the organ stands behind the altar. Its mainly copper façade pipes are surrounded by a wall of panels that have lace-like carvings through which we could glimpse a chapel behind the organ. The church also owns a portative organ by John Brombaugh. It has carved figures on three sides of people playing instruments. Brombaugh himself explained many of the details. It came from a group of six instruments built in 1979 in his Eugene, Oregon shop.
Martin began his program with Toccata Quinta by Frescobaldi, followed by Ricercar Quinto Giovanni, by Paolo Cima (1570–1612). Next, Pange Lingua by Nicolas de Grigny: Plein Jeu en taille à 4, Fugue à 5, in which we heard the powerful Great Cornet V and the Swell Trompette, and finally, Récit du Chant de l’Hymne précédent, giving a good airing of the fine Swell Cornet in the tenor register with tremblant.
Next was Brahms’s O Gott, du frommer Gott, demonstrating the versatility of this organ’s foundation stops. He then played Messiaen’s Apparition de l’Eglise éternelle. I visited Messiaen’s church in Paris, Eglise de la Sainte-Trinité, one year ago. Even though I did not hear the organ, this music was in my head, and I wondered at all the glorious improvisations he must have created in that colorful space. Leslie Martin’s tempo and approach were faster and more robust than I would prefer, but in a room lacking reverberation like this one, it may have been a wise choice. He closed with the Adagio from Widor’s Symphony No. 2 in D Major, op. 13, no. 2. We heard the strings and the Great Harmonic Flute to which was added the Great Montre 8′. It was a good, rich sound! The hymn was “O Day of Peace That Dimly Shines” to Parry’s distinguished tune, Jerusalem. I like a more majestic pace for this tune, but it was good to hear it sung by the great voices of the OHS!
We were served a nice box lunch in the parish hall. On the way to the buses many of us were taking pictures of the beautiful flower gardens around the church and in the neighborhood—blue hydrangeas and giant roses of all colors!

We then crossed the attractive Lake Washington again and climbed up the steep bluff to St. John’s Episcopal Church in Kirkland to hear Derek Nickels, director of music at the Church of the Holy Comforter (Episcopal) in Kenilworth, Illinois. I recalled hearing him at the 2006 convention and was eager to hear him again. He did not disappoint—secure, solid rhythm and sensitive musicianship again were the order of the day. The organ was a 2-m, 17-stop Cole & Woodberry, Opus 225, built in Boston in 1892. The OHS Seattle 2008 Organ Atlas has two articles about this fascinating instrument. Tom Foster tells of its original home in Highland Congregational Church, Westford Street, Lowell, Massachusetts. When the church closed, the organ was put in storage, and St. John’s acquired it in 1974. Glenn White of Olympic Organ Builders, Seattle, installed it in St. John’s, and later on Richard Bond Organ Builders did major work on the action. Stephen Pinel also wrote a fascinating essay for the Atlas on William B. Goodwin, who designed the organ. The façade has three large false wood pipes followed by a row of some 27 pipes in a wide flat. Its appearance is unique! Scott Hamilton described some of the other unique features of this instrument—it really was designed to play transcriptions.
Nickels did just that. He made great use of the organ throughout the program, playing expressively in pieces like Meyerbeer’s “Coronation March” (Le Prophète) in an arrangement by Bryan Hesford, which showed contrasting sounds, and he built up to a wonderful ff. Next was John Knowles Paine’s Andante con Variazioni, op. 17. He began on a single string stop that filled the room nicely. The first variation used what sounded like the Doppelflute 8′ on the Swell—a full, rich sound; 8′ and 4′ flutes were up next. He arched the phrases nicely. The strings repeated the opening theme.
Next were two pieces by Schumann: Sketch in D-flat Major and Canon in B Minor, in which he made the most of the resources of this organ. The jolliness of the D-flat gave way to the jingle bell effect of the B-Minor. He brought his fine program to an end with Mendelssohn’s Fugue in E Minor, giving it a spirited performance. Organ and organist were well matched. He managed the wild ride that is the pedal part of this piece with great élan. His clean playing gave life to the music. A superb performance!

I was keen to get to our next church because I always enjoy Bruce Stevens’s concerts, but also because the church, St. Thomas Episcopal Church, Medina, has a 2-m and pedal, 22-stop Metzler Söhne organ, built in Dietekon, Switzerland in 1971. This would be my first Metzler, and I’m told it is the only Metzler in the United States. I have many recordings of Metzler organs, usually played by Stevens’s teacher, Anton Heiller, so I am familiar with their outstanding quality. The church is a cruciform pattern with transepts, and the altar stands at the crossing beneath a lantern tower. The organ and choir are behind the altar.
Bruce Stevens, a well-known and distinguished figure at OHS conventions, serves as organist at Second Presbyterian Church in downtown Richmond, Virginia. He is also adjunct instructor in organ at the University of Richmond, and leads OHS organ tours of Europe. I truly admire and respect his playing. He began with J. S. Bach’s Canonic Variations on “Vom Himmel hoch, da komm’ ich her,” BWV 769. After three variations, we sang the hymn “From Heaven Above to Earth I Come” (Vom Himmel hoch). The organ led us very well. Stevens then played the final two variations, delineating the parts of the canons with clarity and grace.
There followed yet another canonic piece: Schumann’s Piece in Canonic Form, op. 56, no. 5; again we had a clear idea of where the music was going. He ended with Schumann’s Fugue on the Name of B-A-C-H, op. 60, no. 6. Stevens used this wonderful organ very well, letting us hear its fine colors and refined voicing. The glorious ff finale was spine-tingling!
Our next event was a dinner cruise aboard the elegant “Spirit of Seattle.” The relaxing evening took us on a cruise of the beautiful waters of Puget Sound. The food was bountiful, the conversation was friendly and stimulating, and the scenery was magnificent. The huge skyscrapers of downtown Seattle and the graceful Space Needle slowly began to shrink as the natural landscape took center stage. A full moon appeared as mist clung to the shores of islands and peninsulas, while the Cascade Mountains rose behind. Dominating all was Mount Rainier, gazing down like an Old Testament prophet. We began the cruise in the bright sunshine of the late afternoon, returning to shore at dusk just as the lights of the downtown buildings and the Space Needle were beginning to twinkle magically. It was a perfect evening.

Thursday, July 17
Thursday began at Calvary Lutheran Church in Federal Way, Washington, with a recital by Sharon Porter Shull, minister of music at Agnus Dei Lutheran Church in Gig Harbor, Washington, on the church’s Kenneth Coulter organ, Opus 6, built in Eugene, Oregon. Its two manuals, pedal, and 19 stops stand in the rear balcony. Roger Meers’s essay in the Atlas points out that the church’s low ceiling necessitated a Rückpositive. As the church’s music program expanded, the balcony was enlarged, bringing it forward on each side of the Rückpositive.
Shull opened with the Allegro from Vivaldi’s Concerto del Sigr. Meck (sic) as arranged by Johann Gottfried Walther—a most engaging piece, which she played in a most entertaining way. The organ has very sweet tones that were evident in the next piece, Partita on “Wer nur den lieben Gott lässt walten” by Georg Böhm, which would be the hymn we would sing at the end of the program. We moved forward to the end of the 19th century for Brahms’s O Welt, ich muss dich lassen, and then heard Bach’s Herr Gott, nun schleuss den Himmel auf, BWV 617. The ornamented chorale tune was played on the organ’s Schalmei 8′, but it did not seem to be alone. She then played a gentle little Trio in C by Krebs, followed by Bach’s Liebster Jesu, wir sind hier, BWV 751, for which she used the Rückpositive Cornet with tremolo. We heard the Trumpet on Bach’s Der Tag, der ist so freudenreich, BWV 605, and she closed with Fuga in C (“The Fanfare”) attributed to Bach. Shull gave it a wonderful sense of momentum and joy—fine playing all around!
Our last stop of the morning was Kilworth Chapel at the University of Puget Sound in Tacoma, with its elegant Paul Fritts & Co. organ, Opus 8, from 1989. We had gotten ahead of schedule, however, so they gave us a brief tour of downtown Tacoma’s invitingly attractive area. Dale Chihuly’s glass workshop is there, as well as three grand old theaters that have been mercifully spared the indignities of the wrecking ball.
We soon arrived at the University of Puget Sound’s campus and its New England-style chapel. The Fritts organ stands on the stage. Its case is white with accents of gold leaf and panels of pale green. Elaborate gold pipe shades stand guard above and below the dark façade pipes, heavy with lead. The organ is essentially North German, but the Swell Oboe 8′ is a copy of a Cavaillé-Coll stop. It was the first Fritts organ to have a Swell division, and Paul Fritts is a graduate of this school.
Our recitalist was Paul Thornock, an alumnus currently serving as director of music at St. Joseph’s Cathedral, Columbus, Ohio, where he presides over a large and magnificently red 2006 Fritts organ. His personality and his playing can best be described as ebullient. Thornock opened with Buxtehude’s Praeludium in E Minor, BuxWV 142. This organ has power and a rich tone, and his playing possessed the power and richness to match it. Next, in a partita by Walther on Jesu, meine Freude, we heard a good variety of the tonal features of this fine 2-m, 34-stop organ. The Great Rohrflöte was very pleasing. The Swell 8′ Principal with tremulant accompaniment by that Great Rohrflöte was a truly beautiful effect. Next, the Cantabile from Louis Vierne’s Symphonie No. 2 demonstrated this organ’s romantic possibilities, including its Cavaillé-Coll-style Oboe.
More romantic literature followed: the brilliant Toccata and Fugue in D Minor, op. 59, nos. 5 and 6 by Max Reger. Thornock’s keen sense of proportion and architecture was evident, and he has a huge technique. The hymn was “Lo, He Comes with Clouds Descending” (Helmsley). This was another outstanding recital at this outstanding convention. And we weren’t done yet! For lunch, we were treated to a midsummer cookout on the grounds of the campus beneath the Douglas fir trees that towered over an incredibly lush green lawn.
Our first recital of the afternoon was given by Rodney Gehrke, director of music and liturgy at St. Mark’s Lutheran Church, San Francisco, and at the city’s Temple Emanu-El. He also teaches undergraduate organ at the University of California, Berkeley. He had the good fortune to be assigned the organ by John Brombaugh & Associates, Opus 22, 1979 (2-m, 23 stops) in the modern and strikingly beautiful Christ Church, Episcopal, Tacoma. David Dahl has been organist there for 38 years and told us that while the style is affectionately called “Brutalism” because it is all concrete and heavy wood, the acoustics are great and people can hear each other pray and sing. The organ resounds nicely, too!
The sun had just come out after a cloudy morning, so it was appropriate that we sang as our hymn “Now that the Daylight fills the skies” (Herr Jesu Christ, dich zu uns wend). Living as I do just four blocks from John Brombaugh’s Opus 33 (49 ranks) in the chapel at Lawrence University in Appleton, Wisconsin, I heard many familiar sounds in Gehrke’s first selection, Magnificat on the Third Tone by Lebègue. Brombaugh’s vocale voicing of the principals and flutes, and the rich and full-throated reeds were his trademarks on display. The recently added Erzähler 8′ and Celeste 8′ made for a wondrous sound in Langlais’ “Chant de Paix” from Neuf Pièces. Written at the end of WWII, we can only wonder at the relief the French felt in those days. This music takes us there, and Messrs. Gehrke, Langlais and Brombaugh transported us to that eternal song of peace with their gifts of skill, art, and grace.
The Harfenregal 8′ on the Great (a stop also on the LU organ and a favorite of mine) began Hugo Distler’s Variations on “Frisch auf, gut Gsell, laß rummer gahn” from 30 Spielstücke. It was well played and demonstrated many more of the beautiful sounds of this landmark instrument. Gehrke’s
final selection was Bach’s Partita on “Sei gegrüsset, Jesu Gütig.” The chorale, played on the Great 8′ Principal, was a thing of beauty. Each variation revealed more of this truly great organ. The final variation, with full organ, was powerful, intense, and moving.

Our next stop was the First Presbyterian Church, Tacoma, for a recital by Lorenz Maycher. Whenever I see that Maycher is playing for the OHS, I know I’m in for a treat, especially when he is seated at a big romantic organ like this large Reuter, Opus 138 from 1925 (4-m, six divisions, 80 stops, 55 ranks, 121 registers). He led off with the hymn “Over the Chaos” to a tune by Russell Jackson (b. 1962). Next was a piece by Richard Purvis, “Supplication” from Four Poems in Tone. It was inclusive of all manner of supplication from quiet to intense. Then a work by Jaromir Weinberger (1896–1994), The Way to Emmaus (A Solo Cantata for High Voice with Organ) for which he was joined by gifted soprano Anneliese von Goerken, who sang marvelously. Maycher made great use of the instrument’s many gorgeous solo stops. If you have such an organ and a good soprano, you might find this a useful piece.
I was glad to see that Maycher was playing Sowerby. He is a Sowerby expert, as anyone will tell you after listening to his recordings. Today’s offering, ending the program, was Sowerby’s Prelude on “Non Nobis, Domine,” which was played with great expression and strength.
The evening event began with a blissful late afternoon non-scheduled free hour in downtown Seattle, followed by a delicious meal in Hildebrandt Hall of Plymouth Congregational Church. We then made our way upstairs to the oval-shaped church with its white/ivory walls and small stained glass windows to attend Choral Evensong as sung by the Choir of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Seattle, Gary James, choirmaster. Thomas Foster was the conductor, and Craig Phillips was the organist. The Rev. Ralph Carskadden, from St. Mark’s Cathedral, was the officiant. It was a beautiful service. The choir did very well, the music was well chosen and conducted with grace. Craig Phillips played very well on the church’s 3-m Schlicker, with 53 stops and 63 ranks. All the pipes are behind a screen that stands in back of the altar. Phillips wrote quite a bit of the music performed at this service, including a very nice Prelude from Triptych for Organ, and Serenade for Horn and Organ, for which he was ably joined by Maxwell Burdick. Psalm 150 was sung to an Anglican chant by Charles Fisk (Menlo Park)—a nice touch! Phillips also supplied the anthem, Teach Me, My God and King, that I liked quite a lot, and the postlude, Toccata on “Hyfrydol,” which is a terrific piece.

Friday, July 18
The last day of the convention—some really fine events were coming our way, and we were eager to plunge right in. We began at the large St. Alphonsus Roman Catholic Church in Seattle, which has a fantastic organ by Fritts-Richards, Opus 4 from 1985. With 2-m, 33 stops in a fabulous acoustic, and a drop-dead gorgeous case in the rear gallery featuring a Rückpositive, it is a thing to behold. The case is of painted poplar. The carved and gilded pipe shades were made by David Dahl’s late father. This very German organ was built by two young men still in their twenties who had never been to Europe.
Our recitalist was Dana Robinson, who is on the faculty of the School of Music at the University of Illinois. Those of us fortunate enough to have been at the OHS convention in 2006 heard him give the closing recital on the amazing 19th-century organ in the Troy Savings Bank Auditorium, and will not soon forget his brilliant concert that warm night. So we looked forward to hearing him again—this time on a bright cool morning and on another amazing organ. Robinson began his program with Modus ludendi pro organo pleno by Samuel Scheidt. He used the full plenum, which has a surprisingly powerful sound. Next up were two verses of Durch Adams Fall ist ganz verderbt by Heinrich Scheidemann. The first featured the warm Principal and a quiet reed. The second utilized a 4′ flute, beautifully and expressively played. He then went back for more Scheidemann: Es ist das Heil uns kommen her (two verses)—well played and using more of the instrument.
Up next was Buxtehude’s setting of Nun bitten wir den heiligen Geist, BuxWV 209. I believe we heard the Rückpositiv Sesquialtera II playing the ornamented chorale tune against the Great Violdigamba 8′ (sic)—gorgeous, clear sounds. That was also the hymn, which followed immediately. It was quite an experience to sing this hymn with this very North German organ in the resonant space of St. Alphonsus Church. Then came Buxtehude’s Ciacona in E Minor, BuxWV 160. Robinson began with the 8′ Principal and built from there. Organ, organist, literature and room were superb. Finally, we came to Buxtehude’s great setting of Te Deum Laudamus, BuxWV 218. I especially enjoyed the Great Trommet 8′. This organ has big-scaled pedal reeds, which he used well, including a full-length 32′ Posaunen. We were given a most thoughtful demonstration of this instrument by one of America’s finest players.
After a windy ride through the city, we found ourselves in the beautiful “First Hill” neighborhood overlooking downtown Seattle. We arrived at First Baptist Church and its newly acquired 3-m, 35-rank Aeolian-Skinner from 1953, which came from First Methodist Church in Tacoma, and was meticulously restored by Bond Organ Builders. Stephen Schnurr presented the OHS Historic Organ Citation. The organ is in two chambers on either side of the altar and baptistry.
Our recitalist was Douglas Cleveland, who opened his program with Handel’s Concerto in B-flat Major, a piece played on this organ 50 years ago by David Craighead. The middle section featured what I believe was the English Horn, a lovely stop. Next was Virgil Fox’s famous arrangement of Bach’s Come Sweet Death. Cleveland played it with great tenderness and expressivity. The hymn, “O for a Thousand Tongues” to the tune Azmon, was followed by a charming Scherzetto by Joseph Jongen and the lovely Woodland Flute Call by Fannie Dillon (1881–1897), which I believe was soloed on the Great 4′ Flute Harmonique.
Cleveland closed his program with the brilliant and dashing Four Concert Etudes by David Briggs (b. 1964). Following an introduction, it charged into the toccata-like “Octaves.” The next movement, “Chordes Alternées,” featured the Choir flutes alternating chords in various octaves with a melody in the pedal. Then a “Sarabande,” featuring the lush Aeolian-Skinner strings. The final movement entitled “Tierces” uses many of the motives of the earlier movements: octaves, alternating chords, etc. Cleveland gave a first-rate performance.
We then enjoyed a tasty box lunch in the labyrinthian but cozy basement of the First Baptist Church. After lunch, we returned to the sanctuary for the OHS annual meeting. Orpha Ochse was feted for all her work on behalf of the organ and the OHS. Joseph McCabe, chairman of the 2009 convention in Cleveland, gave us a tantalizing peek at all the good things it promises.
Following the meeting, we had a choice of spending some free time at the Seattle Center, which includes the Space Needle, or attending a recital by Gregory Crowell at German United Church of Christ in Seattle. Since I had been to the Seattle Center before, I chose the recital. True to form, we were early by about a half hour. The little church, in a quiet neighborhood and with a small congregation, has a rare treasure in these parts: a 1917 Hinners organ, Opus 2324. It was built in 1917 for St. Jakobi Lutheran Church in Allison, Iowa, and, after a few moves, it wound up in the safe hands of the Organ Clearing House. Legendary OHSer Randall Jay McCarty, organist of this church, installed the organ in 1976, replacing an electronic substitute. It has one divided keyboard and pedal and is a sweet charmer. Since we were so early, our distinguished recitalist Gregory Crowell, a favorite OHS performer (this would be his sixth convention appearance), agreed to begin 30 minutes early.
It was amazing how much he managed to get out of this six-rank instrument. He began with Huit Fugues pour le Clavecin ou l’Orgue by Johann Philipp Kirnberger: Preludium I & Fuga [1], which worked quite well. The organ was hand pumped. Then, using the electric blower, Crowell played Contrapunctus I from Kunst der Fuga, BWV 1080, by Bach—something I never thought I’d hear on a 1917 Hinners. But the organ held its own, and Crowell played it very well. Next came music by Max Drischner (1891–1971): Choralvorspiele für Dorforganisten; “Wie schön leuchtet der Morgenstern” was played on the pleasing little 4′ flute; “Die Sonn’ hat sich mit ihrem Glanz gewendet” used the strings; and “In dir ist Freude” employed the full sound. These are very nice and accessible pieces.
Next was the hymn In dir ist Freude, which we sang in German. Again the organ was hand pumped. The next piece was a bonbon: Träumerei, op. 15, no. 7 by Robert Schumann, in an arrangement by Clarence Eddy. Then came a Pastorale by Bossi, which seemed to use every register on the organ—an amazing array of sound and color. Next up was a Capriccio by one A. Pedro Zuazo (fl. 1890) that he played in a cheerfully agreeable manner. Crowell closed his program with Church Sonata I, III. Allegro, by James Woodman (b. 1957). I never cease to enjoy hearing music by composers of our time on old instruments. These instruments are never out of date. This one played music from a wide spectrum and handled all of it with ease. Good organ building is timeless.
We then returned to the hotel for our elegant buffet dinner in the twelfth floor ballroom. Then it was off to St. James Roman Catholic Cathedral, which is perched dramatically on First Hill overlooking the southern end of downtown Seattle, with its mixture of industrial loading cranes for the ships of Puget Sound, office towers, and huge sports venues. We were at St. James for the closing event of the convention: a recital by the cathedral’s organist, Joseph Adam. This magnificent Romanesque church has been remodeled/restored so that the altar stands at the crossing. There is a large oculus above the altar, which, in photographs I’ve seen, sends a dramatic shaft of light into the building from the sun above—like the hand of God reaching in. At the west end, in a beautiful case, stands the historic musical treasure we had come to hear: the great Hutchings-Votey organ of 1906. It had escaped unharmed when the great dome of the cathedral collapsed under the weight of a massive snowstorm in 1916. In 1926 a Casavant sanctuary organ was installed in the east apse. While it had only 21 stops, it had a 4-m console that connected the two organs. The 4-m Hutchings-Votey organ has 48 stops. In 2000, the Casavant was replaced by a new organ by Rosales Organ Builders, retaining five ranks from the Casavant. It totals 48 ranks on four manuals. The Rosales pedal includes a Bombarde 64′, which is unlabeled. Only the BBBB sounds, but it is most impressive. The Rosales case wraps around the wall of the apse in a series of Romanesque arches. Like the Casavant, its console can play both organs.
An ancestor of the cathedral’s first organist, Franklin Sawyer Palmer, was introduced to the audience. The director of music, Clint Kraus, spoke of the last visit by the OHS to the cathedral in 1982, when an historic citation was presented. Kraus said that that presentation was the impetus to restore the Hutchings-Votey organ.
Joseph Adam opened his program on the Hutchings-Votey organ playing Bach’s Chaconne in D Minor as transcribed by Wilhelm Middelschulte. We were all transfixed by the amazing flutes on this magnificent organ. Then came the foundation stops, which were followed by the trumpets. The kaleidoscope of tones being flung into the vast reverberant space was quite wonderful. It calmed down to a pp with rapid repeated notes on the flutes. A big crescendo briefly included the 32′ reeds, followed by a lessening of tone as we heard more and more of this instrument.
The oculus let in the last light of day as we awaited the next selections, three well-known and loved pieces by Louis Vierne: Naïades, op. 55, no. 4; Claire de lune, op. 53, no. 5; and Carillon de Westminster, op. 54, no. 6. In Naïades, his fingers flew over the keys, flutes and strings seeming to race up and down the Romanesque arches of the cathedral. Claire de lune was all tranquility—our thoughts could wander slowly as they do in moonlight. This was heartfelt organ playing. Who could not love the organ hearing such a beautiful solo flute singing to us—lost in beauty, awe and wonder. He played the Carillon de Westminster brilliantly: controlling and holding the reins together until just the right moment when he allowed the music to explode. I’ve never heard it played better.
We then sang the hymn: “Of the Father’s Love Begotten” (Divinum Mysterium), followed by a piece commissioned for this convention, Divinum Mysterium: Solemn Meditation by Timothy Tikker (b. 1958). It is a lovely work, very quiet at first, almost brooding, the music leading into a surrender to faith. It soon brightened, the manuals reflecting the stepwise melody in fast notes while the pedal sounded out the theme in long notes. All the while a crescendo grew. It is a fine piece and a good addition to the repertoire.
After intermission, Adam appeared at the east end of the cathedral, and played the Rosales organ. He began with another piece by Timothy Tikker, Variations sur un vieux Noël. The Rosales organ makes sounds that complement rather than compete with the room’s elder statesman in the west end gallery. We heard bell sounds against strings, reeds creating open fifths, tierces sounding against trumpets. A fugue broke out that was quite lively and grew to full organ. I really liked this piece, and I like this organ. We then sang “Come Down, O Love Divine” (Down Ampney) to his marvelous accompaniment.
Joseph Adam closed this fantastic recital (the cathedral, by the way, was packed—we OHSers only occupied the transepts!) with Maurice Duruflé’s Suite, op. 5. The Prelude used both organs, creating a sonic spectacle that is possible in only a handful of buildings. The Sicilienne featured a solo reed that filled the church. Sweet strings and a bubbling flute lightly danced for us. Adam is an alert and wise musician—able to address composers’ thoughts and bring them to us in an astonishing array of color. Clearly, he knows and understands these remarkable organs completely.
The great and fiendishly difficult Toccata brought the Suite and convention to a dramatic conclusion. Adam’s performance was as magnificent as the organs he was playing. We were all swept away by his powerful strength and energy. The air above and around us was charged with his utter mastery of this music. With the huge 32′ stops giving us ground, it was at times almost gloriously terrifying—a fantastic experience! There was an encore: Dupre’s Prelude in G Minor, a somewhat palate-cleansing feeling to calm and give rest to our spirits. I did not want to leave this building. It was a transforming recital, one none of us will forget anytime soon.

Closing thoughts
This was an unusual OHS convention. While we heard plenty of old instruments, they were transplants from the east or elsewhere. We were witness to a new, more youthful voice on the national and international stage, the emerging influence of the modern organ world in the Pacific Northwest. Two names came up again and again: John Brombaugh and David Dahl. These two gentlemen have led this movement and deserve our admiration. Martin Pasi, Paul Fritts, Richards & Fowlkes, Taylor & Boody, and others got their start here.
I had a great time at this well-organized convention, seeing old friends, making new ones, eating good food, and getting to know the organ world in this part of the country. Much more will come from this school of organ building. Let us enjoy watching it unfold. The Organ Historical Society will be observing it all with great curiosity, and interest. See you next summer in Cleveland, July 5–10! Oh, and my horoscope was dead on!

 

An Old Mexican Organ

Edward Pepe and James Wyly

A graduate of Yale University, Edward Pepe holds master’s degrees in organ performance (New England Conservatory of Music) and photography (University of Massachusetts). He spent two years studying historic performance practice with Harald Vogel at the Norddeutsche Orgelakademie. He is co-founder of both the Westfield Center for Early Keyboard Studies in the United States of North America and the Instituto de Órganos Históricos de Oaxaca in Mexico.<br>
An organist and independent scholar living, working, and performing in Oaxaca, Mexico since 1999, he has presented talks on restoration issues in various parts of that country, and led tours to historic instruments in the States of Tlaxcala, Queretaro and Guanajuato, as well as in Mexico City for both Minnesota Public Radio and the Yale Institute of Sacred Music. He is the author of numerous articles on historic organs and viceregal music in Mexico, and is preparing a book on the subject.
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James Wyly is an artist and independent scholar of the organ. A graduate of Amherst College, he holds doctoral degrees in music (University of Missouri) and in clinical psychology (Illinois School of Professional Psychology). He has published a number of studies of Spanish organ building practices, which include his doctoral dissertation in music. As a musicologist, organist and harpsichordist, he taught music at the college level from 1964 to 1976 (Elmhurst College and Grinnell College), and subsequently practiced psychotherapy in Chicago until 2003. He currently lives in Oaxaca, Mexico.

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1. Introduction

Recent years have seen a notable increase in interest among organists and scholars in old Mexican organs. Each year congresses, tours, and study trips of various kinds bring organists, organ historians, organ builders, and general enthusiasts to Mexico from Europe as well as North and South America. As we learn more about the old Iberian and Ibero-American organ repertory, the numerous1 old Mexican instruments surviving from the eighteenth, nineteenth, and perhaps even the seventeenth centuries, built as they are in styles closely related to Iberian organs, become ever more important to our understanding. Yet for the vast majority of organists, a study trip to Mexican organs remains impractical, especially as the number of old organs in Mexico that are actually in playing condition remains small, and of these, not a few are in relatively inaccessible locations. Therefore organists interested in this area must depend heavily on recordings.

The organist who buys a compact disc in hopes of learning something about the Iberian tradition of organ music must proceed with caution, however. The history of Mexico’s organs has been just as complex as her politics, and just because an old Mexican organ is today in a state of repair sufficient for the making of a recording does not necessarily mean that the recorded sounds will have a great deal to do with either the way the organ was originally conceived or how its sound may have evolved over time. Therefore, it seems useful to describe in some detail what is presently known about one of the old Mexican organs of which some recent recordings are available.2 As will be seen, this, the organ in the village church of San Jerónimo in San Jerónimo Tlacochahuaya (also known as Tlacochahuaya de Morelos) in the state of Oaxaca, presents us with a history and a set of questions which, while they are of course specific to this particular instrument, can also be considered as generally characteristic of the kinds of issues one faces when one starts to think about how an old Mexican organ might have originally sounded and been played. As we formulate our questions we shall try to describe in some detail what is known about the history and present-day state of this instrument, which is currently one of the better-known old organs of Mexico; and this, in turn, will enable us to make a few comments about the larger picture regarding old organs in Mexico.

2. The Church Building

As is common in Mexico, we possess only fragmentary documentation concerning the Tlacochahuaya church and its organ(s). As their history is intertwined let us review what is known. Tlacochahuaya lies about 12 miles east of Oaxaca de Juárez, the capital of the state. We know that the church was originally built in the 1550s and ’60s as part of an extensive network of Dominican complexes intended to promote evange-lization in Oaxaca. The present structure conforms to the original dimensions of 11 by 45 meters. (The ratio of 1:4 is reflected in the interior, the roughly square crossing at the front, to which a shallow sanctuary is attached, and the equivalent baptistry/gallery area at the back being separated by a nave of roughly double their length.) The church’s cruciform shape is original. The present church walls are also almost certainly original3 but at least up to the 1660s they were spanned by wooden beams and a wooden roof. There are no external buttresses, which might be expected had vaulting originally been contemplated. Nevertheless, sometime between ca. 1660 and 1803 San Jerónimo was given its present brick vaults. Over apse, crossing and choir, they are domical, constructed of diminishing rings: the barrel vault of the nave is made with bricks placed on edge, set on the axis of the nave.4 It could well be that the vaults date from a major renovation during the 1730s, since in the west façade, which is not original to the church, the weather-damaged legend, se [ac]abo de renobar esta [por?]tada primero de agosto de 1737aos can still be made out above the main door. The two west towers, each of which contains stairs to the gallery (one is currently blocked off), would then seem to date from that time, as probably would the elaborate decorative painting of the interior.

This implies that the gallery at the west end of the original wooden-roofed church must have had a ceiling that was a good deal lower than the present one, especially since the walls of the choir area were raised at the time the vaulting was added (accounting for the unusual proportions of the church’s façade). The floor of the loft, likely of wood, was also lower, as is confirmed by the original bell-tower, which still stands on the south side of the nave. Halfway up its stair is a blocked-off doorway, apparently the original way to the old gallery, which would have entered the church at a level lower than the present gallery floor. Not only would this gallery have been lower, it would have been darker, for it would have lacked the present large west window. This space, by the way, must have served, until Tlacochahuaya was secularized in the eighteenth century, as a coro from which the friars sang their offices, for to this day it contains a large, four-sided lectern of the type used to hold large choir books. Perhaps it also included choir stalls, and perhaps, as in nearby Yanhuitlán, there was an indigenous choir that sang polyphony.5

It must also be noted that Oaxaca suffered a major earthquake in 1714. Perhaps there was damage to the Tlacochahuaya church that needed repair. A nearly simultaneous major rebuilding project, completed in 1733, was carried out at the largely destroyed Oaxaca cathedral6 and might have acted as an impetus towards renovations in Tlacochahuaya.

The overall layout of the Dominican complex in Tlacochahuaya is also worth mentioning here, since it tells us much about the friars’ daily routine, including musical practices. In a departure from the usual custom of placing the convent on either the south or north side of the church, the convent in Tlacochahuaya is for unknown reasons located to the east, behind the apse. As a result, it was not possible to have the usual entrance leading directly from the second floor of the convent into the choir loft,7 which gave the friars easy access to the choir area for the performance of the monastic hours. Instead, the early bell tower in Tlacochahuaya seems to have served this purpose. The two stairwells in Tlacochahuaya’s west towers,8 leading up from the main floor to the choir, can then be seen as an indication of a stronger indigenous participation in music making in the later years of Dominican control.9

3. The Organ: History

Now we may turn to what we know of the changes this organ has undergone; and while we may not possess a full record of them, it is already clear that, as with so many old organs, it may be misleading to speak of the Tlacochahuaya instrument in terms of a single date or a style that relates exclusively to one period or another. And if we are to make real use of what we know about its present state we need to know as much as we can about which parts of that state date from when, and what has happened to them over time.

We might remind ourselves that as far as the present state of the organ is concerned, we are not dealing with a “restoration” in the conservation world’s currently accepted use of the term. In fact, there is presently no organ in Mexico that can be considered to be “restored,” if restoration means that after a thorough and thoroughly documented historical study a conscious plan has been carried out to return a given organ either to its original state or to a designated moment in its history, conserving all old material, replacing irrecoverably damaged or missing old work with the best possible working reproductions of it, taking care to make all changes as close to reversible as is mechanically feasible, making available full documentation regarding the intervention, and so on.10 Rather, we are dealing with an old, working organ that has been altered many times in the process of repeatedly repairing and updating it—which is of course the way almost all work on extant organs has been carried out for hundreds of years, with the exception of a relatively few interventions in historically important organs during our own time.

Let us begin with the existing disposition of the organ. The stops are divided, those in the left column extending from C (short octave) to c1 and those in the right column from c#1 to c3 (21 and 24 notes, respectively). The names here assigned to the stops appear on paper labels from the 1990 renovation; we do not know what they were originally called. Additional information supplied by the authors appears in brackets. (See Stoplist 1 on page 25.)

The disposition exhibits a Mexican penchant for keeping pitches low. In the left hand, pitches do not rise above the twenty-second (here a 1/2'), and even that register breaks back an octave in the tenor. In the right hand, there are no pitches above the twelfth (here a 11⁄3'), and, once again, the register breaks back an octave. The absence of higher pitches may be due to the fact that the chest, and hence the phonic conception, was originally that of a 4' organ. The doublings of the Flautado and Octava in the right hand conform with a Spanish practice (as, for instance, described by Pablo Nassarre11) of strengthening pitches depending upon the acoustics of the church building. The lack of compound stops has been discussed elsewhere.12

The largest pipe of the Bardón is marked with the date 1735. This is practically the only concrete piece of evidence we have about the organ’s chronology; but even so, we cannot really be sure of what it tells us. It is often assumed that the Tlacochahuaya organ predates 1735, and that the 8' Bardón and the reed stops constitute a 1735 modification to an earlier, more compact version of the organ that perhaps sat on a table. If we start from this assumption, we will immediately note that the pipe of the Bardón rank standing on tenor c is marked with a crusader’s cross—with which Mexican builders often signified the first pipe of a rank—and we will say that the register was originally a 4' rank and that 1735 marks a moment of major change in the organ’s nature, in which its fundamental pitch dropped by an octave. It would follow that the grooved toeboard upon which the bass octave of Bardón pipes now rests, which extends out beyond the edge of the windchest, was made new at the time of the renovation. It is usually assumed that the reed stops were added at the same time, and while this certainly makes sense, there exists no external evidence in support of this idea; nor need we assume that both reeds were installed at the same time. We can say, however, that at the time(s) the Bajoncillo and Clarín were added, the present stop action was not in place and the stops were still worked by extensions of the sliders at the sides of the case, for there are slots for all the present sliders, including the reeds, plus one on the left, presumably for a now-removed Tambor (Drum), and one on the right which still holds the slider that controls the Pájaros (Birdsong). The Bajoncillo stands at the front of the chest, in the place the façade Flautado basses would have occupied had they been side by side with their treble equivalents.13

The surviving old pipework (which constitutes about half the number of flue pipes in the organ) is homogenous, and, since it coincides with the chest’s toehole spacing, there is no real reason to assume that it is anything but original, or at least contemporary with the wind-chest. The disposition previous to the hypothesized c. 1735 intervention, then, would be assumed to have been as shown in Stoplist 2.
Minus the Tapadillo, this coincides exactly with the dispositions of the table organs at San Andrés Zautla (1726) and San Pedro Mártir Yucuxaco (1740), both in the state of Oaxaca. In addition, the disposition of the organ in San Pedro Quiatoni (1729) is identical to that of Tlacochahuaya, except for the reeds.14 Indeed, Quiatoni’s Tapado also started out at 4¢ pitch and was changed at some unknown time to 8' pitch. We shall return to the implications of these and other similarities among these organs.
Nonetheless, the notion that the 1735 date marks a modification to a pre-existing table organ, rather than the date of the organ’s original conception, raises some difficult questions. As we have noted, there are miters on the sides of the case, which indicate that extensions of the sliders once passed through them and served as the stop action. While old table organs were often so arranged, this neither demonstrates that the original construction was much before 1735 (the organ in San Dionisio Ocotepec, Oaxaca, of 1721 was built with such extensions) nor that at one time it sat on a table (the Ocotepec organ’s case extends to the floor). An examination of the Tlacochahuaya case also shows that the configuration of miters constitutes an adaptation of the case, since they are cut not into the case itself, but into boards that were themselves inserted into the case. When this was done is also unclear.
The type of key action in the Tlacochahuaya organ is also relevant to our thinking both about the date and the type of the hypothesized original organ—that is, whether it was built as a table organ or as a freestanding positive. We are dealing with two possible actions here: on the one hand, the actual key action, which is a suspended action without a rollerboard (no table organ with a rollerboard is currently catalogued in Mexico); and on the other hand, a pin action.15 Essentially, a pin action allows the keyboard to be placed above the pallets, more or less at the level of the sliders, so it can be seen as a height-saving measure. Table organs with pin actions would seem to be particularly suitable to Oaxaca, then, in two regards: first because frequent earthquakes required that churches be built relatively low to the ground; and second, because in Oaxaca’s villages resources were limited, so churches and their organs were often small.

What are the odds, then, of the Tlacochahuaya organ’s originally having had a pin action? Among the eleven existing table organs in the state of Tlaxcala, six have rollerboard-less, suspended actions like Tlacochahuaya’s, and five have pin actions.16 In Oaxaca, however, the pin action definitely dominates: only one (Santa María Peñoles) of the fourteen known table organs certainly had an action like Tlacochahuaya’s. On the other hand, there are no known floor-standing organs with pin actions in Oaxaca, or anywhere else in Mexico (supporting the idea that pin actions were meant to save height). Given that the conversion of a pin action to a suspended action would have required an extensive and complicated reworking of the fundamental structure of the organ, it would seem likely that the Tlacochahuaya organ today contains the type of key action with which it was first built, and that the odds therefore do not favor its having been first built as a table organ. Here, the floor of the original choir loft being lower means that, in spite of there having been a lower choir ceiling before the 1730s renovation, a floor organ could still have fit in the space.

If we turn to the two reed stops, the notion that they were added to the organ also implies some serious work to the windchest. Indeed, an ingenious construction in Tlacochahuaya does allow the grooveboard for the Clarín to pass in front of and under that of the Flautado. But this means that if the organ had a previous incarnation without the Clarín, accommodating the new stop meant not only making a new toeboard and slider, and drilling out the table, but the grooveboard of the façade Flautado also would have had to be rebuilt. Accommodating the Bajoncillo would have been a little easier since there could easily have been empty space beside the treble pipes of the Flautado, but the table still would have had to be drilled and a slider made.

From the point of view of organ construction, then, to achieve the present version of the Tlacochahuaya organ from the hypothetical earlier one, whether table- or floor-standing, would have required some very elaborate rebuilding. But other factors also speak against an earlier version of the organ. The similarities among the Oaxacan instruments we have mentioned extend to the design of their upper cases, suggesting that they were all built in the same shop, or at least belonged to a “school” of organbuilding practices. It is quite possible that the organs are all variations on a basic “model” that was produced in quantity: indeed, various parts of the Quiatoni organ are labeled “San Pedro,” which could suggest that the builder was constructing several similar instruments at one time. Thus, even if the Tlacochahuaya organ had an earlier version, it would seem to have been originally built only a few years before its rebuilding in 1735. This is possible, though such a thoroughgoing revision of a nearly new instrument would have required unusual circumstances.

But there are other possibilities. Perhaps the Tlacochahuaya organ was rethought as it was being built, employing roughed-out components that were semi-mass-produced and kept ready to finish in the shop. Or, maybe the organ was ordered “like that in San Pedro Quiatoni, but with a Clarín in the façade and a Bajoncillo.” In either case, we could suppose that the builder made some clever adaptations using a stock model of a 4' windchest already on hand, and the organ was delivered as a new organ that already had its 8' foundation and reeds. And perhaps the organbuilder fitted the new organ into an already framed-up case that had to be raised to accommodate the façade Clarín, which might account for the inserted boards that have the slider miters, as well as for the double row of ornamental cartouches above the keyboard (unusual for an organ this size). In the end, all we can say is that there are several plausible scenarios here, and at present we lack sufficient evidence to make a firm choice among them.

It is worth pointing out that the Tlacochahuaya organ is the only one of the above-mentioned group of organs to have a basic but complete Iberian-style reed ensemble. The placement of a Bajoncillo inside the case is likewise unusual (the more common interior reed in Oaxaca—either just in the bass, or in both bass and treble—is a Trompeta Real, invariably at 8¢ pitch). We do not know enough about Mexican organ music from the period to say whether this was due to budgetary or esthetic considerations. The first documented occurrence of façade trumpets in Mexico seems to be the Jorge de Sesma organ that was built in 1689 in Madrid for the cathedral of Mexico City. Façade trumpets, then of relatively recent invention, might have taken some time to reach a place like Tlacochahuaya, in which case the right-hand reed stop would date at the earliest from shortly before 1735; but, if we assume the organ was reconstructed from a complete, reedless original, either or both reeds could have been added at any point between 1735 and the installation of the existing stop action, as well. Whenever they were installed (in an adaptation of an existing almost-new organ, as original to an organ built in 1735, or as a modification to the organ after 1735), the reeds would have marked a dramatic change in the sound of the music, and the impulse that caused them to be included represents a change in the local musical esthetic—the dating of which carries large implications for our understanding of the history of this organ and the way music of a given period was played on it.

As we have mentioned, the slots in the sides of the case suggest that the present stop action postdates the reed stops; and we have demonstrated that there existed in Oaxaca freestanding organs with a lower case that used extensions of the sliders protruding through the case as the register action. In fact, if, as is often assumed, the organ case was painted at the time the church was vaulted, then we have additional evidence that the stop action came later, for the scribe marks for the stop action’s miters are still visible—on top of the case painting.

Having been fitted into a pre-existing case, the stop action occupies insufficient space and its parts are too small to develop leverage enough to move the sliders easily. To compound the problem, the connections between the traces and the (too short) levers on the rollers are secured simply by loose-fitting nails. All of this results in so much resistance and slack in the system that changing the position of a stopknob in no way guarantees that the corresponding slider will have budged. Everything about the stop action suggests improvised workmanship, which is inconsistent with the rest of the organ, as well as with surviving eighteenth- and nineteenth-century stop actions in other Oaxacan organs.17 It would seem reasonable to assume that the stop action is a relatively recent, cosmetic addition and that it may well represent the last major alteration the organ endured before the Mexican Revolution of 1910. The nails, which are inclined to fall out at inopportune moments, could be later still.

With Mexico’s war for independence from Spain (1810–1821), political events began to exercise significant influence on the history of the organ in Mexico. Since independence, Mexican politics have been characterized by frequent periods of instability punctuated by civil wars, not to mention political and military incursions from Europe and the United States. Such an environment was hardly conducive to the culture of the organ, for which the most important single political event of the period is probably the suppression of religious orders and the nationalization of ecclesiastical property that began in 1859. For the organ in general, this meant less funding for new building as the relationship between church and state as well as the ownership of church properties remained unresolved through the third quarter of the nineteenth century as chaotic governments quickly succeeded one another. While organs of first-rate workmanship were sometimes built and older instruments were repaired after 1859, an irreversible slide had begun, fueled by political and ecclesiastical conflicts, lack of funds, shifts in spending priorities towards more secular projects, and social instability; and the coup de grâce was delivered in the form of the 1910–1920 revolution, during which many organs, reportedly including that of Tlacochahuaya, having become increasingly decrepit from lack of maintenance, were rendered unplayable by occupying armies and subsequent vandalism.18 Changes in liturgical practice since Vatican II (1962–65) have established tastes unsympathetic to the revival of older forms of ecclesiastical music, and today in the overwhelming majority of Mexican churches the organs, whether functional or not, are regarded as mere curiosities—where they are recognized as organs at all.

4. The Organ: Renovation

Such was the state of the Tlacochahuaya organ until 1990–91, when the organ was disassembled, cleaned, and thoroughly rebuilt. The project was under the direction of the North American organ builder, Susan Tattershall. The Mexican builders José Luís Falcón and Joaquín Wesslowski collaborated. We need only focus on two aspects of this work as Tattershall has published a fuller account of it.19 We need to think, however, about what happened to the pipework and the bellows.

Luckily, about half of the pipework in Tlacochahuaya is old (in the Tapado, for instance, 20 of the 45 pipes are new, and all but one of these is in the treble). The extant pipes were repaired and the ranks were completed with new work by Joaquín Wesslowski.20 The new pipework in Tlacochahuaya was finely made to replicate the old, which has not always been the case with modern-day interventions in Oaxaca’s organs. The Oaxacan habit of numbering all pipes from 1 to 45 facilitated the relocation of pipes that had been moved. Notwithstanding that pipes are sometimes reused (and lengthened or shortened) and can carry several numbers, and that the presence of breaking registers can complicate the reconstruction of an organ’s disposition, similar organs in the area confirm Tattershall’s conclusions in this regard.

Naturally the question arises as to what alterations the pipework may have endured over the years. The organs at San Andrés Zautla and San Pedro Quiatoni provide a useful comparison, for both organs are practically complete (the Quiatoni organ is unplayable), including almost all their pipework, and the Quiatoni organ gives every evidence of being largely in its original (1729) state.21 As we have noted, both are in many ways similar to the Tlacochahuaya instrument. In all three organs all the principal ranks are of almost the same scale and have mouths 1/4 of their circumference. Cutups vary and some in the Tlacochahuaya organ show signs of adjustment, but it is safe to say the originals averaged around 1/4 in the bass, increasing to 2/5 in the treble. The similarities are apparent in the following table, which compares the diameters of the 4¢ façade ranks at Tlacochahuaya, Quiatoni, and Zautla, to which, for interest’s sake, we have added the Yucuxaco organ’s 4¢ façade rank.22 The Yucuxaco organ is about two pipes narrower than the other three, though its scales follow a similar pattern; again, we wonder if all of these organs could be by the same builder.23 (See Scale chart 1.)

There is every indication that at least in terms of its grosser measurements, the Tlacochahuaya pipework reflects early practice and that pipes were not substituted after “classical” (i.e., derived from Iberian baroque practice) organ building ceased to be practiced in Oaxaca around 1900. Furthermore, the principal chorus stands substantially as it was designed, and the proportional strength among its ranks probably does not deviate far from the classic-period organbuilders’ intentions.

Not enough study of Oaxacan reed stops has yet been made to determine whether the present duckbill shallots and tongues (in both stops) reflect local 18th-century practice. Their similarity to Spanish and Mexican reeds of the time, however, suggests that they do. Admittedly, neither of the reed stops at Tlacochahuaya works very well; the quality is uneven and the pipes speak far more slowly than do 18th-century Spanish and Portuguese examples. Indeed, they speak so slowly and irregularly that playing the kind of fast passages and repeated notes called for in Iberian Tientos de clarínes, Tientos de batalla, etc., is virtually impossible.

As we have noted, the stopped 8' rank was rebuilt from a 4' one; both of the two lowest octaves are numbered as if they were the first octave, so presumably the lowest octave was added to a pre-existing stop—which just possibly could have come from another organ, or from an existing supply of pipes in the builder’s shop. (An extension was built on the topboard to hold the lowest eight pipes.) It conforms in mouth shape, scale, etc., with other similar eighteenth-century Mexican stops. The diameters of the C-pipes are compared with those of the similar stop at San Pedro Quiatoni in the following table. (See Scale chart 2.)

Tattershall describes making what was essentially a newly built bellows to replace the pre-1990 winding system, which, unless something happened after Fesperman and Kelemen photographed the organ, must have been intact, although not functional, at the time of her work; and she suggests that this older winding system had in turn replaced one that had been behind the organ. This of course assumes an altogether different earlier location for the organ, the bellows of which then would have been rebuilt when the organ was given its present location at the side of the gallery. She bases the theory that the bellows was once behind the organ on the claim that the old right-hand stops, which protruded through the side of the case, could not be reached had the bellows been at the side; but this is not true, for experimentation demonstrates that the miters on the right of the case are perfectly accessible to anyone standing at the organist’s right (the Pájaro stop is still worked this way). There is really no evidence to suggest that the bellows was ever behind the organ. Most importantly, Tattershall believes the pre-1990 bellows to have been of 19th-century construction and she did not preserve it. She describes it as “a set of internal frames, onto which an enormous hand-sewn bag of cowskin had been tacked with upholstery nails. . . . When open, it looked like an enormous smithy’s bellows, though rectangular . . . A tell-tale strip of white fuzz and old glue around the rim of the bellows covers made it clear that the cowhide arrangement was a later creation . . .”24 But later than when? For, as nobody knew in 1990, this is neither a smithy bellows nor a 19th-century type of organ bellows, but a kind of organ bellows that was in use at least from the early 16th century (a Spanish example of which was recently documented by Gerard A. C. de Graaf in a little organ from the 1520s in Salamanca Cathedral’s Capilla Dorada).25 It is not impossible that the old Tlacochahuaya bellows was revised in the 19th century, but nevertheless it represented a type of Iberian bellows with a long history and it could have been made at any time during the organ’s existence—or earlier, given that it could have been brought from another location during a revision in the Tlacochahuaya organ. As only its weights are preserved, we are unlikely ever to resolve the questions about the old bellows’ date and provenance, which are raised by de Graaf’s description of the Capilla Dorada organ. Bellows of the Capilla Dorada type survive in other locations in Oaxaca,26 however, and study of them could help to clarify the issue.

This in turn opens the question of the organ’s earlier windpressure(s). Today the organ speaks on 84mm, achieved by two 1990 wedge bellows weighted by the old but undatable weights.27 Some people have suggested this may be too high, and the organ at San Andrés Zautla, whose principal pipes are virtually identical to those at Tlacochahuaya, and which was rebuilt by Tattershall in 1998 with newly made wedge bellows, speaks on only 73mm.28 But the matter of Tlacochahuaya’s wind pressure remains speculative, for if it were lower than 84mm the reed pipes would behave even less satisfactorily than at present; so all we can say about the pre-1990 winding system is that it was of the Capilla Dorada type, its provenance is undeterminable, and it may have endured several revisions over at least the past 280 years.

Another factor influencing the organ’s sound is that the case presently has no back, and in 1990–91 the organ was voiced on the assumption that this was the way it had always been. However, most old organ cases in Oaxaca have backs, and a pre-restoration photograph of the organ by John Fesperman’s Smithsonian Institution team29 shows a panel, unfastened at the top, leaning against the wall behind the organ. At least one performer has experimented with installing temporary backs, and whether the back of the case is open or closed makes a discernible difference in the organ’s sound. The age of the panel in the Fesperman photograph is of course indeterminable.

The organ’s keyboard is evidently not original. The keys are stamped with numbers in the manner of a pre-fabricated keyboard of the 19th century. That it was not built specifically for Tlacochahuaya is made completely clear by its numbering: the lowest key begins with the number 5. The keys for C, C-sharp, D and E-flat were discarded in adapting it to the short-octave chest. Accordingly, the highest key is numbered 49. The octave span, 165mm, is characteristic of late 19th-century pianos and harmoniums.30

(please go to continuation)

When in Rome: A conversation with Francesco Cera

Joyce Johnson Robinson

Joyce Johnson Robinson is associate editor of The Diapason.

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In the 1980s I was a graduate student in Rome, doing research on oratorios in the archive adjacent to the sanctuary of the Chiesa Nuova (Santa Maria in Vallicella). That church, established by St. Philip Neri, witnessed the flourishing of the oratorio in the 18th century; more oratorio performances were held there than at any other venue in Rome. Oratorios, performed weekly from November through Lent, were written by the leading opera composers of the day.
Twice weekly (the archive was only open from 5–7 pm on Tuesdays and Fridays; this explains why my research took a while), I entered the large sanctuary and walked toward the altar on my way to the archive. Though the church still revealed its Baroque splendor, there was no splendid—i.e., in playable condition—organ. So I took no note of the instrument; lack of maintenance on an organ was not an uncommon situation in Roman churches.
Fast forward to 2003, to the office of The Diapason, where I was now on the editorial staff. A new CD had arrived,1 featuring organist Francesco Cera playing the Guglielmi organ at Santa Maria in Vallicella, the instrument having been restored by Fratelli Ruffatti.2 I was impressed by the marvelous playing and the incisive sound of the instrument. Even the temperament was revelatory; the meantone tuning gave the dissonances extra pungency and made their resolutions all the more satisfying.
Francesco Cera, born in Bologna, now resident in Rome, studied organ and harpsichord with Luigi Ferdinando Tagliavini and Gustav Leonhardt. He has appeared as a soloist in international festivals and has played historic organs in various European countries. His recordings of the complete keyboard works of Michelangelo Rossi, Tarquinio Merula, Bernardo Storace, and Antonio Valente were praised by the international press. He is currently the conductor of the Ensemble Arte Musica, which specializes in Italian vocal repertoire, from the madrigals of Gesualdo to 18th-century cantatas.3 Cera has led masterclasses and seminars at such institutions as the Accademia di Musica Italiana per Organo, Academie d’Orgue de Fribourg, the Royal Academy of Music in London, the University of Illinois, the University of Evansville, and the Eastman School of Music.
I felt it was worth a try to see if I could meet Mr. Cera in person. An e-mail was graciously answered and led to further exchanges, and my husband and I were able to meet Cera on our next trip to Rome. He was most kind and agreed to show and play the organ for us. We met at the church one December day, along with the organist of Santa Maria in Vallicella. After making our way up the curving staircase to the shallow loft, Cera fired up the instrument. He began playing some works by Rossi, but had not played for very long when the competition arrived—another organ was being played, to lead a rehearsal of children singing. We weren’t going to win this one, so we ceased and desisted and headed for the coffee bar across the street.
Time passed. Cera’s CD was given a glowing review in The Diapason.4 In October 2006 he made a tour to the United States to present concerts and masterclasses, to demonstrate Italian organ music of the 17th century. His tour included a stop in Chicago, where he played on the Flentrop organ in Holy Name Cathedral. We were able to meet up with him once again, to discuss the Guglielmi organ and its restoration in further detail.

JR: Was the Guglielmi organ in Santa Maria in Vallicella installed when the church was first built?
FC: The organ that we hear today is the second built by Giovanni Guglielmi for the church, and for centuries it was paired with a second organ, also built by Guglielmi, for the newly built church, in about 1590. The church of Santa Maria in Vallicella (called the Chiesa Nuova) was constructed at the request of St. Filippo Neri, who in the nearby oratory founded the order of the Philippine fathers; thus it is a crucial place in the history of the Catholic Church. The organ we hear was built in 1612, according to archival research.

JR: Is the Guglielmi organ typical of other Roman instruments? How does its design reflect the style of Italian organ building of the 17th century?
FC: Yes, the Guglielmi organ is a traditional type of organ quite frequently found in large Roman churches at the end of the 16th century. I would say that this organ is clearly distinct from those built in northern Italy during the same period, for example those of Antegnati and his followers. It is typically Roman because it exhibits construction characteristics that are very similar to those of organs built in Rome (such as in the 1598 Luca Blasi organ in the basilica of San Giovanni Laterano, in the small organ ca. 1600 by an unknown builder in Santa Barbara ai Librari, and later in the century in the 1673 Testa-Alari at San Giovanni dei Fiorentini). We can note these characteristics in even later instruments that have survived, and through descriptions in old contracts: a short-octave 50-key manual, C–f3 (plus five chromatic split keys for D-sharp/E-flat, and G-sharp/A-flat); a Ripieno based on a 16' Principal, an 8' Trumpet with full-length resonators (called Tromboni)5, and a pair of flutes pitched at 4' and 22⁄3'. The scales of the principals and of the Ripieno ranks are very narrow, giving much transparency to the 16' Ripieno, and a very silvery sound, full of light, to the organ. These narrow scalings produce a very clear and pungent timbre, compared to, say, Tuscan organs of the same period, which have wider scalings and tend towards a rounder sound. The Tromboni, frequently found in Roman organs, add power and color. The sound of the Guglielmi organ seems to reflect the grandeur and luminosity of Rome.

JR: The organ’s case design is something special, too.
FC
: Its golden case, redesigned in 1699, is a triumph of the Roman Baroque, clearly inspired by Bernini’s style. Gilded carvings show angels that seem to float across the façade: bas reliefs with putti, garlands of flowers, and a big shell crowning the top just behind the major pipes. Three pipes are embossed with a twisting surface, including the central one, 16' low C. The pipe mouths are also gilded with decorative patterns.

JR: Is the Guglielmi organ similar to any of the masterpieces of Italian organbuilding?
FC
: I don’t believe so. For example, the famous organs of San Petronio in Bologna (Lorenzo da Prato, 1475, and Baldassare Malamini, 1596) or the 1545 Antegnati at San Maurizio in Milan have quite a different sonority from the Guglielmi. In fact, the characteristic of Italian organbuilding of every era—from the Renaissance to full-blown Romanticism—is to conceive of nuances of sonority that are distinct in every single region (remember that Italy was divided into many small states until 1860).
At times we have stops typical of a school of organbuilding—for example, in the Venetian school, the 8' Tromboncini (a short-resonator reed); in the Lombardy school, the orchestral stops such as Corno Inglese or Flauto traversiere; or in the Tuscan school, the multi-rank Cornetti. But it is interesting to note how very many old organs having the same stoplist (for example, the most common in various parts of Italy is a Ripieno, a 4' or 22⁄3' Flauto, Voce Umana, and 16' Contrabasso in the pedal) offer quite diverse sonorities, above all in timbre (tone color), due to the scaling and type of voicing. The major organbuilders imparted a personal “character” to their instruments, and it was inevitable that a local “school” resulted. This is the great fascination of the Italian organ—the different nuances of timbre, which still needs to be better understood. The Guglielmi organ is a masterpiece of Roman organbuilding.

JR: The instrument is based on a 16' Principal—is that typical for that time?
FC
: Almost all the large Roman churches had instruments whose Ripieno was based on a 16¢ Principal. This was probably felt to be necessary due to the vastness of the churches, but certainly also for the desire for a very solemn sound. At the same time, the narrow scalings provided great luminosity and clarity.

JR: Who played the Guglielmi organ? What documents refer to the organ?
FC
: Among the famous organists who played the organ were Bernardo Pasquini, who was the organist at Vallicella from 1657–1664, and also in the 17th century Giovanni Battista Ferrini and Fabrizio Fontana (both of them, along with Pasquini, wrote organ music of high quality). Various documents about the organ and its maintenance through the centuries have been published by Arnaldo Morelli, in the musicological journal Analecta Musicologica.6

JR: When was the organ abandoned and no longer maintained?
FC
: At the end of the 19th century, a romantic-style organ was built in the right-side choir loft, and from that point the old Guglielmi, after some mediocre work, was gradually abandoned. Yet most of the 17th-century pipework was not altered—neither the mouths nor the pipe lengths. Thus, notwithstanding the negligence, it was possible to again have the original sound, without having to reinvent it, as it was necessary to do in other cases. This was a very good thing.

JR: How did organ restoration in Italy begin and evolve?
FC
: Historic restoration in Italy originated with the pioneering work of the celebrated organist Luigi Ferdinando Tagliavini and the great scholar, the late Oscar Mischiati. The first organ “saved” from restorations that had a tendency to alter and “modernize” historic organs was Graziadio Antegnati’s 1581 masterpiece in the church of San Giuseppe in Brescia, restored back in 1956. In subsequent years, following the directives of these two great experts, it became more common to respect the original features of every instrument, including the short-octave manuals and pedalboards, which previously had been “normalized” through the addition of chromatic keys. Then came the practice of reconstructing the pipes of lost ranks, with faithful copies of authentic pipes by the same maker. In the late 70s there was a return to the old temperaments, where there had been some surviving traces (meantone and its variants). All this spread at first in the north, with the help of government financing, and since the 1980s, also in central and south Italy. Today my country can claim at least ten organ builders who have specialized for a long time in restorations of the highest quality—work that is on a par with the best carried out in the rest of Europe, perhaps even characterized by a deeper historic consciousness.

JR: Who provided the funds for restoring the organ? When did this come about?
FC
: The Italian government provided funding for the restoration, and the work took place between 1998–2000. The superintendent of historic and artistic works of Rome entrusted the work to Fratelli Ruffatti of Padua, due to their experience in restoring historic organs in various regions of Italy, with the leading expert Oscar Mischiati as consultant.

JR: What work needed to be done on the organ?
FC
: The spring windchest that was found in the organ was almost destroyed by rainwater that had leaked in, but although it was probably from the 19th century it seemed inspired by 17th-century building technique—thus it was reconstructed with the same design. Also lacking was the console, but after an accurate analysis of the pipes, it appeared clearly that its compass was of 50 keys (c1 to f5, with the first “short” octave), plus five added “split” keys, for a total of 55 keys, and the stops arranged vertically.7 The keyboard and pedalboard were reconstructed according to models of the period. The surviving group of original pipes was simply put in the best possible playing condition, and the temperament reset to meantone, with the pitch being detected as A=400—quite low, but close to the documented pitch in use in Rome at that time (i.e., around A=390). Ruffatti’s work has produced a very satisfying result.

JR: What are some other important recent restorations?
FC
: Italy has the good fortune to possess very many Renaissance organs, which have had only minor modifications. Among these are the two organs at San Petronio in Bologna (to which I referred earlier), whose restoration, done by Tamburini under the supervision of Tagliavini and Mischiati, was completed in 1982. These two organs have been recorded on many CDs and have been visited by many organists from all over the world. Then there is the splendid 1556 Giovanni Cipri instrument at San Martino (also in Bologna), and the 1521 Domenico di Lorenzo at the church of the Annunziata in Florence.
Among the most important recent restorations, I would name the 1509 Pietro da Montefalco in Trevi (Umbria), restored by Pinchi-Ars Organi, the 1852 Tronci with three manuals and two small pedalboards at Gavinana (Tuscany), restored by Riccardo Lorenzini, and the 1775 Gaetano Callido at Fano (the Marches), restored by Francesco Zanin. Lastly, there is the 1565 Graziadio Antegnati organ in the church of Santa Barbara in Mantua, within the Gonzaga palace, an imposing 16¢ instrument with seven split keys for D-sharp and A-flat, restored by Giorgio Carli. I had the honor of playing the inaugural concert.

JR: Has there been much publicity about the Guglielmi organ?
FC
: Unfortunately, after the restoration, nothing was published regarding the organ, and few organists played it. Realizing its importance—a great Roman organ from the time of Frescobaldi!—I proposed to Radio France that they do a CD recording for their “Temperaments” series, and Gilles Cantagrel, artistic director and noted Bach and organ scholar, accepted right away.
The CD notably helped develop interest in this important instrument, which restores the authentic sonority of the organs that the great Frescobaldi—and also Rossi, Pasquini, and their German pupils (Froberger, Kerll, Muffat)—would have regularly played, and for which they conceived their organ works.

JR: Francesco, you have toured a few times in the United States. Do you find that American organists know much about Italian organs?
FC
: Generally, I think that it’s quite a mystery—people have only a vague idea—but all the organists that I’ve met in America are very interested to know more! For example, someone who heard the Guglielmi organ through my CD was extremely surprised by the very clear, or as they say, “stringy” sound—but also by the presence of the trumpet rank. Both these aspects are not part of their conception of the Italian organ, if their idea of the Italian organ only comes from visits they made to organs in Bologna rather than Florence. In Italy today, the Italian language is spoken with many varied accents (in the past, dialects were spoken more than they are today), and these differences are found in our old organs as well. It seems to me that the interest in Italian organ music, and the desire to explore it in all its vast scope, is growing. I have the impression that lately, after having concentrated on German Baroque works, people are looking for new repertoire, and the Italian repertory is clearly gaining popularity!

JR: Tell us something about your latest trip to the U.S.
FC
: I was surprised to be able to play two historic Italian organs! I had heard of the 18th-century organ at the Eastman School in Rochester, inaugurated last year and now at the center of a strong, thorough study of Italian organ music. Its placement within the museum is really splendid; being surrounded by Italian Renaissance and Baroque paintings, it is put in a cultural context that is so important for those who are knowledgeable as well as for American students. Equally excellent is the positive organ that I played at Cornell University in Ithaca—an instrument with a strong Neapolitan character, built by Agostino Vicedomini in the 1720s. I think that both these instrument were restored very well.
I was also delighted with the sound of the big Flentrop at Holy Name Cathedral in Chicago—faithful to the Dutch Baroque aesthetic—and also the John Brombaugh organ in Springfield, Illinois, a fine balance between historic copy and personality. I hope that soon the United States can have more organs in Italian style, maybe entrusting their construction to Italian builders so that the true Italian sonority—luminous and full of character—can be more widespread. I think that in mid-size churches with good acoustics, such an organ could be successful, or in churches where in addition to a traditional instrument there is a desire for an organ with a different sonority. Why not?

The author wishes to thank Fratelli Ruffatti, and especially Francesco Ruffatti, for their kind assistance. All translations are by the author.

Cover feature

Glück Pipe Organs,
New York, New York

St. John’s of Lattingtown Episcopal Church,
Locust Valley, New York

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An historic idyll

The hamlet of Lattingtown, a sub-enclave of Locust Valley on New York’s Long Island, is named for the locust trees that forest the terminal moraines left by receding glaciers. The land was purchased from the Algonquin-speaking tribe of the Lenape nation in 1667, and during the late nineteenth century, the region became known for its quiet serenity while enjoying proximity to New York City, where many of the area residents also kept city homes and offices for their business interests.

By the 1920s, society architects such as Delano and Aldrich; Bertram Grosvenor Goodhue; McKim, Mead, and White; Cass Gilbert; and Carrère and Hastings designed resplendent residences for privacy-seeking industrialists and financiers in the Glen Cove region, whose names may still be unfamiliar to most. The imposing estate houses were (and are) known by name rather than by street address, including attorney William Dameron Guthrie’s vast property, “Meudon,” named for Château de Meudon in the Parisian suburb where Marcel Dupré kept a house fitted up with a Mutin-Cavaillé-Coll organ.

In the bucolic Locust Valley–Glen Cove region, about a dozen houses in the “neighborhood” were furnished with pipe organs by the Aeolian Company, including the II/27 in Louis Comfort Tiffany’s “Laurelton Hall,” the IV/63 in Nicholas F. Brady’s “Inisfada,” and the colossal IV/107 in Frank W. Woolworth’s “Winfield Hall.” Yet it was the wife of sulfur baron Henry Devereux Whiton who is listed as the client for the II/13 Ernest M. Skinner organ of 1919 for their house “up the road” from St. John’s. It was this little organ, with roll-playing mechanism, which appears to have influenced the church’s choice of Skinner to build his Opus 447 when the church was reconfigured for its reopening in 1924. The church organ was a smaller affair of eleven ranks, built in Skinner’s Westfield shop. 

Neither of the small Skinner organs remains intact. Frieda Frasch Whiton divorced Henry in 1921, married Count David Augustus Constantini the following year, and upon the count’s death in 1937, married Baron Carl Gottlieb von Seidlitz, to whom she remained married until her death in 1951. The fate of the house organ appears lost to history.

 

The commission

Ten years ago, Eric Milnes, director of music, approached me about building a new organ for St. John’s, which I assumed would be a mechanical-action organ in historic style and temperament, as Mr. Milnes has earned an internationally celebrated reputation as a conductor and historical keyboard artist specializing in the historically informed performance of Baroque keyboard, instrumental, and choral music with period instruments. Yet to my delight, he envisioned a powerful, multifaceted, colorful adjunct to the Episcopal liturgy that could authentically interpret the concert repertoire. The use of electropneumatic action opened the door to a world of tonal possibilities in which the two of us could scratch our academic itches free from the strangulation of purist dogma. The challenge was not to acquiesce to bland “eclecticism,” but to devise an enchanting chameleon without spawning a generic creature devoid of character and personality.

 

The musical formula

The Latin multum in parvo, or “much in little,” often is used to assess the useful content-to-thickness ratio of short, highly informative books, whether technical or historical. It was co-opted by the speculative and operative arms of organbuilding to describe service-playing instruments of small scope and grand effect, most associated with English builders of the past 150 years, although the French have been parallel adepts. The criteria for this appellation remain nebulous, and the label has been adhered to organs of between 18 and 40 ranks, two or three manuals, French, English, or American, with mechanical or assisted action. 

In designing this 20-rank instrument for St. John’s, I chose to focus upon what the substantive literature demands of the organ. Thousands of American instruments have harbored lovely stops, but could never honor the wishes of the composers who wrote organ music. Since concert literature was written by church organists for the instruments they played in church, I always choose to work backwards from the score to create instruments with the required voices at the right pitches, properly grouped and usefully juxtaposed. Desirable elements in an organ of this limited size are an anchoring principal chorus, warmly and elegantly voiced with a clear, silvery mixture of sensible composition; a collection of flutes of diverse structure and material; a tierce combination for solo work; a pair of vibrant strings of authentically cutting, exceptional character; the three primary reed colors (Trumpet, Oboe, and Clarinet, the last of which must play in dialogue with the cornet); and a pedal division producing a very clean pitch line that can be heard moving clearly beneath and through the manual textures. No wasted space, no wasted metal.

By good fortune, the Skinner Salicional and Voix Céleste, as well as the Pedal 16 Bourdon, survived the onslaught of the Orgelbewegung, so some heritage pipework, renamed, lives on in the organ. The new metal pipes are built of a spotted alloy of 50% tin (including the hefty resonators of the Swell 16 Basset Horn). New timber pipes are poplar with walnut caps. Because this is a two-manual instrument, some solo stops are duplexed between the manuals, and some extension work is included. Of note are the variably scaled 16 Pedal extension of the Skinner string and the 24-pipe downward extension of the Great 2 Gemshorn as the Pedal 8 Spitzflöte and 4 Choral Bass. Although it is my policy to avoid unification of any manual rank at adjacent pitches, opting for a two-octave separation, the Chimney Flute appears twice in the Great department, charming at the unison, beguiling at the octave. The short-but-useful-compass 8 Herald Trumpet is voiced on the same pressure as the rest of the organ. Its distinction comes from its scaling, shallot style, and voicing, its tone warmer and rounder than its name implies.

 

Expression: upstairs, downstairs

The Great and some of the Pedal fluework are unenclosed above the impost, and the remainder of the organ’s resources are under expression, including the Herald Trumpet and four of the five 16 stops: the Violone, a downward extrapolation with a broadening scale of the 8 Viole de Gambe, with Haskell re-entrant tubes; the Bourdon, extended from the 8 Stopt Diapason; the Bombarde, an extension of the Trumpet; and the Basset Horn. This is accommodated by a two-story expression enclosure, with upper and lower banks of shutter blades. The knob engraved “Lower Shutters Off” disables and closes the shutters at the choir-loft level while permitting the entirety of the enclosed organ to speak through the controllable upper set behind the Great, using the nave’s ceiling as a sounding board. The Great 16 Double Diapason is also enclosed, yet has no pipes of its own, being derived from the Swell 4 Principal from C25 to G56, and the bass taken from the 16 Bourdon/8 Stopt Diapason unit. The addition to the ensemble is one of nobility and gravity without muddiness. The Pedal 16 Subbass provides significant punch, never shared by, or extended from, its manual brethren.

 

The organ case

The remarkable oak casework was carved by William and Alexander Clow of Edinburgh to the designs of Sir Robert Stodart Lorimer, and was the gift of Mr. and Mrs. John Pierpont Morgan. The Clow brothers had completed the carved figures in the Chapel of the Knights of the Order of the Thistle at St. Giles Cathedral, Edinburgh, in 1911 and were a perfect team to work on a small summer church of this stature. The organ case was part of a much larger decorative program by Sir Robert and financed by Morgan; the entirety of St. John’s is pavé with exuberant carving in this style. 

The case was altered to accommodate the Skinner instrument, and again in the 1970s. In the course of decades, carved panels were discarded, crockets cut down, and a brash horizontal trumpet stop installed. Carvings were desiccated and cracked, and the case had settled after structural elements were removed during the last campaign of alterations. Our mission was to structurally stabilize and restore the case to the spirit of the Skinner era, with new components respecting the aesthetic sensibility of Morgan’s gift. There could be no stylistic infelicities.

For the first time since the church was built, the organ chamber is thermally insulated, and the façade bears speaking pipes of the Great 8 Open Diapason. The original façade was composed of dumb pipes without winded toeboards, so the new façade pipes are given breath through the back of the foot via a tube of pipe metal.

 

The console

The elaborately inlaid and carved keydesk was inspired by the South German rococo work of Joseph Gabler from the second quarter of the 18th century. The morphology is his, but the console is dressed in Tudor clothing to match the exceptional work of the Clow brothers. Linenfold panels surround the entire console, including the back, and the astonishingly detailed corbels that support the key bed are just as intricately carved on their inside surfaces as they are where visible. As with all of our consoles, contrasting species of wood are used for everything from “skunktailing” the key cheeks to differentiating toe studs by function. Keyboard compasses are 56/30, accommodating the majority of the repertoire, anthem accompaniments, and robust hymnody. All measurements and relationships comply with AGO standards, and the organ is tuned in equal temperament.

The organ was dedicated and blessed during the morning service on September 7, and the inaugural recital performed by Eric Milnes on September 28.

The family of artisans at Glück Pipe Organs is grateful to have been invited to design and build this jewel in a jewel box. We appreciate the trust of the parish and their patience during the decade of study, design, construction, and finishing. Our longstanding accomplices in engineering and craftsmanship—OSI, A. R. Schopp’s Sons, Peterson Electro-Musical Products, and Harris Precision Products—continue to work with the dedicated members of the Glück team: General Manager Albert Jensen-Moulton, Joseph DiSalle, Dominic Inferrera, Peter Jensen-Moulton, Daniel Perina, and Robert Rast.

—Sebastian M. Glück

President and Artistic & Tonal Director

 

For more information about Glück pipe organs, video presentations, compact discs, workshops, and lectures, please visit gluckpipeorgans.com. 

Photo credit: All photos by Albert Jensen-Moulton

 

Regarding Sebastian Glück’s Opus 18

Upon my return from conducting Bach at the Tage für Alte Musik early music festival in Regensburg, Germany, I made the decision about a new organ for St. John’s, where I have been director of music and organist for 34 years. My career outside of the church has resided mainly in the period-instrument realm, conducting productions of Monteverdi through Mozart, and performing on historical 17th- and 18th-century keyboards and modern replicas. It was perhaps a paradoxical realization, when imagining a dream instrument for my church, that I longed for the more eclectic instruments of my youth, when I was a student of Gerre Hancock, John Weaver, and Vernon de Tar. What would make that dream a reality would be an electropneumatic instrument through which I could luxuriate in the French and German Romantic legacies, the great post-Victorian Anglican tradition, and the magnificent repertoire that has followed.

Sebastian Glück’s tonal and architectural insights and Albert Jensen-Moulton’s technical capabilities combined to fully divine my desire to return to those musical roots, and to conceive a plan that would ultimately satisfy completely. Their ability to express poetically, as well as in succinct and accessible technical terms the mysteries of concept, design, construction, and installation made the leap from imagination to implementation feel attainable. They equipped me well with the descriptive tools to guide a searching congregation through the process with assurance and anticipatory exhilaration. Their excitement about a freshly conceived instrument, their commitment to historical fealty and tonal integrity, and their respect for the mission of music in worship make for a wonderfully responsive and interactive collaboration with the church musician and the worshipers. We at St. John’s felt shepherded and fully participatory at all stages of the process as our musical dream became the longed-for voice of praise in our parish.

St. John’s chancel is a marvel of intricately embellished woodcarving in a heritage edifice preserving the extravagant preferences enjoyed by the privileged of the Gilded Age. The organ case in particular is a splendor to behold, and required the most loving care in its conservation and adaptation to a new instrument. Sebastian Glück’s distinction in the field of architectural restoration was of no small interest to the stewards of St. John’s legacy. His workshop’s treatment of the organ case, and his design of a complementary, luxurious console, have brought us transcendent joy. Albert Jensen-Moulton’s exquisite lighting plan has revealed to us the grandeur of the reimagined organ case, and we believe that the organ had not been fully illuminated since the Skinner organ was installed almost 100 years ago. Every craftsman member of the firm brought uncommon care to protect and restore the beauty for all to appreciate, present and future.

Having just celebrated the dedication and blessing of the new organ at St. John’s, the glorious sounds (first heard at this occasion) have filled us with inspiration and delight. We perceive the individual character of each exquisitely voiced rank, the kaleidoscope of a multitude of ensembles, blended, rich, warm, full, and thrilling in the unique acoustic of the sanctuary. A twenty-rank organ, conceived, built, and voiced by the caring (and compulsive!) hands of master builders, has been richly appointed to express the enormous range of a broad and diverse repertoire. Our church has received the gifts of exhilaration, inspiration, wonder, and mystery in support of praise and prayer.

Our deepest gratitude is expressed to Sebastian, Albert, and all the artisans of Glück Pipe Organs.

—Eric Milnes
Director of Music & Organist

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