Skip to main content

Carillon News

by Brian Swager
Default

Travelogue III

This is the third and final installment of my travel journal with candid reflections on a 10-week carillon and organ recital tour through Europe.

Last month's journal left off on a Saturday afternoon following my recital in Almere-Haven, near Amsterdam. From there I make my way back to my pied-a-terre in Mechelen. On Sunday morning the entire family assembles for breakfast and the family portrait. On my first visit to Belgium I started the tradition of making a photo of the family gathered around the display case in the bell shop. Now they want me to dig out all the photos and frame the series. The boys, age 8 & 10 in the first photo, now both have partners and are roughly the same age that I was when I first set foot in Belgium. After the photo, the two young couples and I drive to Brussels. It is the final day of the bloementapijt, a "carpet of flowers" that covers the huge market square. We have a bite to eat, and I catch a train to Ieper in West Flanders.

The Hallentoren--the belfry--is part of the Cloth Hall which was destroyed in World War I and rebuilt in the original style. Inside the Cloth Hall, the In Flanders Fields Museum is an impressive interactive museum devoted to The Great War 1914-1918. The recital is at 4:00 pm on what feels like the hottest, most humid day of the summer. The carillon is heavy; the action is cumbersome; the console is that detestable old Denyn standard for short people. I hope that someone is enjoying this music in spite of my suffering. Fortunately, I am alone in the bell chamber. Except for shoes and socks on my feet, and bandages and leather protectors on my pinkies, I play buck naked, leaving huge puddles of perspiration on the bench and floor. As much as I'd like some air circulation, the sound in the glass-enclosed playing cabin is excruciatingly loud with the door open, so to avoid going deaf, I keep the door closed. Between each number I go out into the bell chamber to cool off a bit in the breeze and to drink some water. Afterwards, I dry off, cool off, don my dry clothes and go downstairs to discover that Charles Wilson, a retired major general from the US Air Force, was in the audience with his lovely Belgian wife, and they were waiting to greet me. Together with Geert, the municipal carillonneur, we all go to an outdoor café for drinks and lively conversation, eventually ordering dinner. Suddenly a fierce wind comes out of nowhere and showers us with rain. So much for dry clothes.

Geert drives me to nearby Kortrijk where I stay for three nights in a bed and breakfast in the restored Begijnhof. Begijnhofs--or béguinages--were self-contained lay sisterhoods devoting themselves largely to charitable work. It is virtually only in Flemish Belgium that begijnhofs survive today, although most are no longer inhabited by religious communities.

On Monday evening I play at the St. Maartens Church in Kortrijk on another of the dreaded Denyn playing consoles. The carillonneur warns me in advance of the atrocious tuning of the bells, but I am still shocked when I play, constantly glancing in a panic at my feet to ascertain that I really am playing the right pedal keys. I find it a fascinating historical phenomenon that it is just this sort of carillon that once made Flanders famous for its singing towers--then quite a marvel. But now, these instruments make some of the Flemings somewhat infamous for their reluctance to move forward with the times now that the art of tuning bells and building quiet, responsive, ergonomically de-signed playing consoles and action nearly has been perfected. In fact, I was astonished to hear one prominent carillonneur from West Flanders proclaim, with reference to another old carillon with abominable action, console, and tuning, that he really liked playing that instrument. Fortunately, the younger generations studying at the Belgian Carillon School in Mechelen are being instilled with a more musically responsible aesthetic. Back to Kortrijk. The large audience is appreciative nonetheless: they hear the music despite the tuning and timbre, and forgive the inadequacies of the instrument if they are aware of them.

Tuesday's recital is in nearby Menen, still in the province of West Flanders, right on the border with France. Most of the bells are modern, relatively speaking (only 40 years old), and the playing console is brand new, so playing is not such a chore, and the musical experience is more fulfilling.

Wednesday morning I board a train back to the south of France. This summer's schedule has made me zigzag across Europe more than usual, but I take advantage of the time on the train to read. Since one of my minors during my doctorate at Indiana University was French literature, I'm always delighted when I find time to read another novel. I've also been fascinated by comparing the styles of French, Dutch, German, and Belgian newspapers. They view the world from a different perspective than the American press.

My host Elizabeth picks me up at the train station in Perpignan and informs me that we are invited to a paella dinner party at a friend's home in the foothills of the Pyrenees. Remembering the disastrous paella in Barcelona, my stomach started churning immediately, but as luck would have it, this was the best paella I've ever eaten, complemented by several delicious wines and cheeses.

On Thursday morning after coffee, croissants, and pain au chocolat, we head for the cathedral Saint-Jean-Baptiste so that I can practice on the carillon. It is another oddball instrument. The bells were made by the19th-century French foundry Bollée. The compass is a standard four octaves with a few exceptions. Although it is not unusual to leave C-sharp out of the lowest octave, the G-sharp is also missing in this instrument, which is most annoying. Also, in that Bollée and Perpignan are so far from Flanders and The Netherlands, the real cradle of the carillon art, the playing console has a most unusual design: the pedalboard is only one octave and is displaced quite a ways to the left, creating a challenge especially when playing pedal notes along with the top octave of manual keys. Then there is the highest "A" which I discover is not an "A" at all, so I must remember always to play something else in its place. Adaptation is the name of the game here. Fortunately I brought a copy of the version in C of Courter's In memoriam which, with some adaptation, is playable here.

Laurent and Louis, the other two Perpignan carillonneurs, come to meet me, and they treat me to a lovely dinner at the restaurant terrace under the tower, actually the parvis of the cathedral. After a brief siesta at home, we head back to the cathedral where they've arranged for me to have a few hours to play the four-manual Cavaillé-Coll organ. They had to drag me away in time to get upstairs for the carillon recital. Now, Louis is in the tower communicating via walkie-talkie with Laurent on the ground who is giving verbal program notes to the large audience. Despite the challenges of the instrument, I manage to produce an exciting and musical program, and they are happy that I've come to end their summer series "with a bang."

In the morning Laurent offers me his computer and Internet connection long enough for me to type up my travelogue #2 for The Diapason and send it to Jerome. Laurent, Elizabeth, her children and I have lunch, and I catch my train to nearby Agde. Now I have vacation at a naturist resort on a beach on the Mediterranean. The week goes by much too quickly, and I wish I had planned for two weeks here, but alas, there are more bells to ring. The train takes me to the other end of France: the Alps between the Mont Blanc and Geneva.

Taninges is a small village of about 4000 inhabitants where there is great enthusiasm for their two-and-one-half octave carillon. Shortly after arrival we head to the home of one of the local carillonneurs for a dinner party. Monique, being of Swiss origin, prepares a delicious cheese fondue. She remembers that two years ago at a reception in Taninges I was so taken by one of their dishes that I demanded the recipe on the spot. So, after some champagne, she invited me into the kitchen to share her ingredients and techniques with me.

In the morning I practice on the carillon--another "exceptional" instrument. Here again there is only one octave of pedals, but the range is from B to B instead of C to C. I am perplexed. Why would anyone do this? But I've learned that when I'm in France and start taking these things too seriously, it's time to dine with a good glass of wine, and so we did. Then we went up into the mountains for a hike. We passed a bunch of cows wearing large bells around their necks. I called them the mobile carillon of the Haute-Savoie. After a short siesta at home, we head for a community hall under the tower where the members of the carillon committee meet for a meal. Their practice console is here in the hall, so I review a few of my "adaptations" before we eat.

Another unique facet of the tower in Taninges is the seating area with bleachers inside the tower. It is rare that so many people can come inside and watch the carillonneur play. It is a very intimate setting, and the audience was most appreciative that I gave commentary on the program between each of the pieces. A champagne reception followed the recital. In the morning there was time for a trip to the boulangerie and a walk in the botanical garden in Samoëns before catching my train in Cluses.

Back at home in Mechelen, I spend Monday morning helping Luc to prepare the cellar for the evening reception. Their home dates from the 17th century and is a registered historical landmark. In return for the government subsidies that they received to help defray the costs of restoration, they open the home to the public in some way on special occasions. This evening, the cellar with its low vaulted ceiling will be the site for a candlelight reception following the carillon recital in the St. Rombouts Tower, presented in the framework of the Festival of Flanders.

In the afternoon I head for Zaventem to greet my friend John who arrives from San Francisco to travel along for my final two weeks. We spend the rest of the week sightseeing in Belgium and Amsterdam, with a visit to Haarlem on Thursday afternoon for Jos van der Kooy's recital at the St. Bavo Church.

My final two of the summer's 28 recitals are on Sunday in Wavre, Belgium, where there is a two-day Carillon Festival as part of Open Monument Day in Belgium. My host forgot to pick us up at the train station in Ottignies, so by the time we figure this out, wait for the next train to Wavre, and walk to the church, all of my time for practicing on the organ is gone, and I must go directly to the carillon and begin the recital. On the way, I run into Major Wilson and his wife who I had met in Ieper.  A torrential rainstorm lets loose about 40 minutes into the program, and the chief insists that I stop playing and go to the organ. I suggest lunch, as I am famished and feeling faint by this time. Then I am informed that they have changed the original schedule and have sent the audience into the church to stay dry and to hear my organ recital--so I must sit down and play with no preparation. The two-octave pedalboard (completely chromatic, thank goodness, but I could use a few more notes) has no independent stops; it pulls down the great keys. So, if you want the 16-foot stop to sound in the pedal, you have it on the great as well. Some ranks were discant-only stops or were divided into separate discant and bass registers. Some but not all of this was evident from looking at the stop knobs. The first thing I did wrong was to begin the recital on the wrong manual, but since I had drawn no stops on that manual, and since there were no pedal notes involved, no one knew except my page turner. The recital went surprisingly well, as I had no time at all to get nervous or to think about anything besides making music out of this mess. Major Wilson, by the way, later accused me of shaking up the heavens and causing a deluge every time I play the carillon. I suggested that if the carillons in Belgium were all in tune, the heavens might be less troubled, and the sun would shine there more often.

On Monday the Thalys whisks us to Paris for a delightful vacation until Friday when we fly to Southampton and sail to New York on the Queen Elizabeth 2. The End.

Related Content

Carillon News

by Brian Swager

Brian Swager is a contributing editor of The Diapason.

Default

Travelogue, Part II

This second installment of my travel journal begins in Peer, Belgium, where I left off in last month's column.

On Monday morning I awaken to a shaking bed: an earthquake! My host seems to be doing everything he can to make this San Franciscan feel right at home. After the midday meal he drives me back to Mechelen where I spend the rest of the day practicing at the carillon school and doing laundry. In the evening I attend the carillon recital at the St. Rombouts tower performed by Marina Nevskaya, a Russian pianist/ composer/organist who has just received her final diploma from the school. After the recital I greet several old friends.

When I return to the school in the morning, Jo Haazen, the director of the school and my former teacher, is there.  Jo leaves the office door open and listens while I practice some German dances of Mozart. He interrupts me several times with suggestions on how I can better adapt these transcriptions to a heavy carillon. He reminds me that the man who made these transcriptions plays carillons with bass bells that are much less resonant and lighter than those in the Mechelen carillon.

Later I catch a train to The Netherlands. It rains during my recital in Barneveld, but a few devoted listeners with umbrellas greet me at the tower door when I emerge. The next morning, my host Henry Groen takes me to Wageningen where he must play the carillon during the weekly farmers' market. Since there is no guest recital series in Wageningen, Henry has never heard the carillon from the street, so he asks me to play so that he can go outside and listen. In the evening I play in Ede where a closed circuit video installation enables the listeners to watch me play. One of the advantages of being alone in a tower is that I can take off as many clothes as I want. An hour of vigorous playing on a warm summer evening usually leaves me drenched in sweat. But tonight I stay dressed. They send me off with a bottle of wine in addition to my honorarium.

On Thursday I play in Venlo where for all I can tell there is no captive audience except for Ton, the man who opened the front door of the church for me and pointed me in the right direction. Since practice time on a real carillon has been extremely limited, I seize the opportunity to substitute several of the pieces from my alternate program. Ton didn't have a printed program, so he never knew the difference. We had coffee at an outdoor café on the town square, and then I caught a train to Amsterdam. I visit one of my favorite watering holes, sleep in the next morning, head for Schiphol, and fly to Copenhagen.

Ulla picks me up, we have dinner, I practice a bit on her carillon, and we head for her garden cottage on the outskirts of Copenhagen which will be my home for the next few days. In the morning Ulla takes me to Brøndby Strand, a suburb of Copenhagen, for my noon recital. The Brøndby carillonneur's husband rides up on his bicycle, kicking his feet in the air to display his American flag socks. The Danes love flags. Today I play my new program. It includes John Courter's In Memoriam September 11 which is appreciated everywhere I play it. Lunch is served after the recital, and then we head for the office where Annelise and Ulla make photocopies of my arrangements. Ulla and I head back to the city and I play at Our Savior's Church at 5:00. The tower is stunning and I go up early to soak up the view from the spiral staircase that winds around the outside of the gilded spire.

Sunday is a free day. Ulla is off to Ireland, so I have the day to myself at the cottage. The cottage has no running water, but it does have an electric piano. So, after practicing yoga in the garden, I start composing and arranging music for an upcoming recital. I had very little repertoire for a two-octave instrument, so when I had to send in a program for Cuijk, I said that I would play pieces such as "Three German Dances" and "Chant du Soir" by Brian Swager--pieces that didn't exist until today.

On Monday I fly back to Amsterdam and meet friends for dinner. On Tuesday the weather is hot, so I head for Zandvoort for a few hours to walk on the beach and frolic in the North Sea.  Going back to my room in Amsterdam for a shower turned out to be a waste of time, as there is no air conditioning on the train to Enkhuizen. It is a beautiful little port town, the harbor is bustling, and many people are sitting out on the decks of their boats. The carillon is audible from here when the wind is right. But the weather begins changing quickly. A mighty wind off the Ijsselmeer kicks up as I climb the tower. It is an "open lantern" type of tower which means that the top part of the tower containing the bells is exposed to the elements, and I had to scale a few ladders to reach the playing cabin. The rain hit just as I got inside the cabin. The storm blew over as quickly as it had come. The instrument is regal, a lovely historic Hemony carillon. After a drink with devoted, raingear-clad listeners, I caught a train back to Amsterdam.

On Wednesday I headed back to Mechelen and had my first practice session on the great carillon in the St. Rombouts tower. On Thursday I play in Genk where my gift after the recital is a clay bell filled with genever--a locally produced sort of gin. I can't help but sample it on the slow train ride home.

Friday's recital is on the two-octave carillon in Cuijk, The Netherlands, and is the debut of those little ditties that I wrote in Copenhagen. On Saturday I watch the gay pride parade on the canals of Amsterdam. These floats literally float! On Sunday I head back to Belgium, stopping in Mechelen to practice in the school before going on to Nivelles for a 4:00 recital. A television crew is there to film the recital and interview me afterwards. I had a surprise reunion with Guido, a colleague of my best friend in Mechelen, and his partner Francis. They came to the champagne reception, and I ended up having dinner with them. Guido took me to the train station in time to miss the last train home by the blow of a whistle accompanied by the evil grimace of the conductor. I've learned to maintain an intrepid, adventurous spirit. Guido graciously lodged me in Brussels, and I was back in Mechelen in the morning in time for a shower and my 11:30 rehearsal at St. Rombouts. Then I made my way quickly to Louvain where I played a program of 20th-century carillon music during an International Congress of Musicologists. The carillon in the University Library--having English bells--is an anomaly in Belgium. Wtih 32 bells from the original instrument cast in 1928 by the Gillett and Johnston foundry of Croydon, it is now a five-octave instrument, enlarged in 1983 with 31 new Eijsbouts bells. It is a heavy instrument, the second largest in Belgium, and the G&J bells give it a warm character. The action seems rather stiff at first, but by the end of the first piece I feel like I've figured out what I need to do to get the expressive effects that I want.

Back in Mechelen, I have a nap before my evening recital there. Playing in Mechelen is usually the high point of my summer recital tour. Mechelen is known as the mecca of the carillon art. The serious listeners sit quietly in the courtyard of the cultural center. The Monday evening summer recital series is a tradition that started here in 1896. The carillon is very heavy; the Eijsbouts bells are perfectly tuned in equal temperament; the classic enclosed bell chamber has vaulted ceilings and louvered openings projecting a homogenous sound; the awesome tower is high (about 450 steps to the playing cabin) and majestic; the sound is rich and resonant. Every carillon effect, except the tinkling sound of really small music box-like bells, is possible here: from thunderous fortissimo to cantabile to a whispering pianissimo. My program includes the Passacaglia of Jos Lerinckx, a masterpiece for carillon that sounds best with this wide range of effects. Lerinckx was a Mechelen resident and died just last year. I played his Variations on "There Were Two King's Children" on my examination recital at the carillon school in 1986. On subsequent visits to Mechelen, Jos often gave me scores of his organ and carillon music, and then he would talk my ear off in a most delightful way. I was sad that Jos was not at the base of the tower after my recital to greet me as usual, but the other "Mechelaars" were most appreciative of my performance--especially the Passacaglia--and assured me that Jos was indeed there. Another audience was assembled in a neighboring courtyard for an elegant birthday celebration. When the recital began, the partying stopped, and they sat quietly to listen. Amazing! I was invited to join them afterwards.

It has been a busy month, and I'm ready for a little vacation, so in the morning I catch a train to Paris where I spend the day before boarding a night train to Barcelona. Here I have a week to explore the city, view the famous art nouveau architecture of the likes of Antoni Gaudí and Montaner, get food poisoning from a rotten paella, and recover on the beach in nearby Sitges.

The playing resumes in Hannover, Germany. The sisters of the Henriettenstiftung, on the 100th anniversary of their order, installed a carillon in the courtyard of a hospital and home for the elderly. Cast by the F. Schilling bellfoundry of Heidelberg in 1940, the 49 bells hang in a very low tower, just above the playing console which is on ground level. The bells have a particularly sweet, round, resonant tone. About 100 people show up for the recital, and the sisters remind me that many others are enjoying the program from their rooms. I spend an extra day in Hannover as guests of the sisters, eating hearty meals, getting plenty of rest, practicing many hours on their organ, and making some carillon arrangements. The press was in attendance and promised to post a report on <www.citypix.de&gt; from the recital on 14.08.02.

Saturday afternoon's recital is in Almere-Haven near Amsterdam. The Dutch being masterful at holding back the sea have created a new city where there once was water and marsh. So, everything in Almere is very new, relatively speaking, in stark contrast to the historic architecture in most cities here. The carillon in the Harbor area of the city that I'm playing this year dates from 1979, whereas the city center carillon dates from 1985. The city is happy to support the carillons as part of its effort to build culture and community in Almere. The action is very light and sensitive, making one think of a harpsichord. I am taken by the contrast between the delicate nature of this instrument and the large movements that my fists must make to get from key to key and press them all the way down. On some instruments you can fling the keys down with the flick of a wrist, but to play this one sensitively, I must dpress the keys most of the way, feel the weight of the clapper, and then play. I conclude that even more control and virtuosity would be possible if the keyfall were significantly reduced, eliminating a lot of wasted motion. Nonetheless, it is a delight to play. Some people from the audience and the local carillon committee join municipal carillonneur Frits and me for a beer. Frits and I stay for dinner, and I enjoy the opportunity to talk shop with a colleague whom I haven't seen for several years.

To be continued.

Carillon News

by Brian Swager
Default

Travelogue

 

 

From Philadelphia immediately following the national AGO convention, I hopped on a plane to Belgium to begin a two-month recital tour in Europe. Here follows an assortment of reflections as I proceed along my way, to be continued next month.

 

The intense six-month period of preparation was a challenge: a myriad of details to arrange for the 26 carillon and two organ recitals, dates, programs, lodging, travel, etc.; preparations for being away from home and work for 12 weeks; selecting music that will actually work on most of the varied instruments that I'll be playing--and learn it all!

 

Dear friends from my Fulbright years (1984-86) at the Belgian Carillon School meet me at the airport in Brussels and whisk me off to their home in Mechelen--it will be my pied-à-terre for the next few months. After dinner it was time to visit the carillon school for a session on the practice console. The dimensions of the standard European playing console differ significantly from the more ergonomically-conscious American consoles. Instead of our standard two-octave pedalboard, Belgian and Dutch carillons normally have a 11/2-octave pedalboard which is shifted quite a bit to the right in relationship to the manual keyboard. The distance between keys in both the manual and pedal keyboards differs, as does the keyfall.

 

A good dose of melatonin seems to have helped me get a good night's sleep and to minimize the effects of any jet lag. On Monday I return to the carillon school to practice on the lightweight carillon in the tower of the Hof van Busleyden adjacent to the school. Alas, there is no opportunity to rehearse on the carillon in Turnhout before this evening's recital. This is a bit distressing, as the console is rather uncomfortable for tall carillonneurs like me, predating the European standard. I must remember here, when playing chromatic ("black") pedal notes, to shift my knees off to the side lest they block the manual keys. The bells are enchanting, however, made some 230 years ago by the Belgian founder Vanden Gheyn.

 

Tuesday is a work day: more practice at the carillon school, including organ music on the piano, plus typing the text of the Flemish Carillon Guild's website (www.beiaard.org) which I had translated into English during my "spare time" during the AGO convention last week.

 

On Wednesday I validate my Eurailpass and take the train to Nivelles, south of Brussels in the French speaking part of Belgium. After the short walk to the Collégiale Ste. Gertrude, the organist Robert greets me. I am eager to practice for my Sunday recital. The 38-stop organ was built in the French classic style by Patrick Collon of Brussels. I set to work. The positif is a bit stiff, but the grand orgue plays like butter. Over the course of my practice sessions here I notice my technique adapting to the action. The tension that plagues my hands from practicing at home on an organ with horrible action begins to melt away. I draw the grands jeux and slide the G.O. manual towards me to engage the coupler: a treat for my ears, yet more work for my fingers. At one point while playing, the manual inches forward a bit, and excruciating sounds emanate from the organ. Yikes! I must now also concentrate on "pulling" the keys toward me so as not to disengage the coupler during performance. But it is worth the effort. DeGrigny is coming alive for me. As an undergraduate and master's student I could never get excited about French baroque organ music. Give me a Skinner with a 32' bourdon purring under some lush strings and a vox humana, or a fiery swell box and a 32' bombarde, and I was in seventh heaven. Who wanted to play Couperin with a wimpy American cornet? But then I went to France, and Monsieur Clicquot taught me a lesson or two, and now the sounds and the feel of this instrument are reminding me, teaching me more. I have the uncanny feeling that this instrument has a soul, that it is alive, that it is communicating with me when I listen carefully.

 

On Thursday the train takes me to Goes, a small but lively town in The Netherlands. Sjoerd, the resident carillonneur, leads the way up to the carillon cabin, and at one point we traverse a gangplank over the vaulted ceiling of the church below. We hear the organist practicing on the Marcussen. Once I've climbed the final ladder and squeezed by a huge wooden beam, there is just enough time to position the bench, set out my scores, and adjust the carillon: an adjuster above each key brings the clapper to the desired position. Since the connecting wires expand and contract with temperature changes, this adjustment is usually necessary before each recital. With the key fully depressed, I prefer that the clapper be as close as possible to the side of the bell without actually touching. This prevents the clapper from grinding into the bell (not a pretty sound) and ensures that the lightest of strokes will actually make a sound. The playing console here in Goes is old and rickety, and again the pedals are much too close to the manual, but by now I'm accustomed to moving my knees out of the way without missing the pedals. Sjoerd was enthusiastic about my playing, and with the president of the local "friends of the carillon" we went to his home on the canal for a few beers before I had to catch the last train back to Mechelen. Trains are off schedule tonight: I miss my connection in Antwerp, wait 90 minutes for the next one, land in bed at 1:45 am.

 

Friday: The 8:42 train takes me back to Nivelles where I have the luxury of practicing from 10 until 3. I am amazed at how focused my work is today. Perhaps because the pressure is on? Perhaps because I don't always have the opportunity to play such a fine instrument? Back in Mechelen, Koen picks me up again and drives me to Louvain. After a light meal, we head for St. Pieter's Church across from the impressive city hall. As we enter, Koen warns me to duck my head--which has bumped into something once or twice a day so far. I conclude that Europe was not built for tall people. Koen mentioned that a tall Dutchman had gashed his head there last year; sure enough, the concrete floor was still stained by huge drops of blood.

 

On Saturday I practice again in Nivelles and have dinner with friends in Mechelen. The recital goes well on Sunday, and Robert and I celebrate with the local beer of choice: "Jean de Nivelles," named after the jacquemart that is perched atop one of the towers of the Collégiale, poised to strike the hour bell. Monday is free for chores like laundry, making a bunch of train reservations, practicing the alternate carillon recital program, and having dinner with Mimi. I rented a room in Mimi's home for a year when I was a student at the carillon school. Back then I dropped out of the local Dutch language course after the first meeting, much preferring my evening chats with Mimi. Learning with her, and my other Flemish friends, was faster and more enjoyable. On Tuesday I took advantage of my Eurailpass and hopped on a train to Amsterdam for the afternoon and on to Haarlem to hear Wolfgang Zerer's recital in the St. Bavo Church as part of the summer organ academy. I ran into Marianne of Dresden whom I had met while studying at the academy two years ago, so we headed to the Carillon Café to catch up. A few hours and a few bottles of Westmalle (delicious Belgian Trappist beer) later I headed back to my room in Amsterdam.

 

Riding first class on two TGVs to Chambéry in the Savoy region of France made the long train rides more tolerable, although having to get off in Paris at the North station and traipse down to the Gare de Lyon was annoying. Chambéry carillonneur Jean-Pierre Vittot calls his instrument the "Cavaillé-Coll" of carillons. It is a "grand carillon" in the American tradition with the extended bass range to G, and 21/2 octaves of pedals. The Paccard bells sing gloriously from the chapel tower of the Château of the Dukes of Savoy. In my opinion it is one of the most beautiful sounding carillons in the world. Unfortunately, rather than serving the performer, the key action is more of an obstacle. It did not take kindly to the rapidly repeated notes in my rendition of the "Preludio" from Bach's Partita for solo violin (S.1006). I had transposed it from E up to A, a lighter range, and took a slower than usual tempo, hoping that the action could keep up with me. But alas, a C-sharp gave way early on, so I stopped. Jean-Pierre insisted that I continue, but I figured that I needed that C-sharp about 100 times in the Bach Prelude alone, so I pleaded for repairing the carillon. It wouldn't have been the first time that I had crawled up amidst the bells to fix something during a recital. It looked to me as if a screw had merely come loose. Jean-Pierre went to retrieve the bolt, knocked his head on a rather large bell, returned with the bolt and another mysterious-looking part, and promptly declared that it was broken. So I played the rest of the program, without the Bach, and without the C-sharp.

 

This was the first of five recitals in the festival week "Campanaires Chambéry." A camera crew was in the playing cabin, with several bright, hot, lights, filming the performances which were to be projected onto a large screen adjacent to the Château. Unfortunately the threat of rain prevented the unfurling of the screen, although the filming and bright lights continued. From the playing cabin sound system, Jean-Pierre announced each piece on the program with brief program notes. A wonderful dinner of Savoyard specialties and Chignin Bergeron wine completed the evening.

 

Another long train ride on Thursday took me back to The Netherlands. Changing trains and train stations again in Paris, I had just enough time to get some fresh air, sunshine, and a baguette sandwich on a short walk from the north station past the Place Franz Liszt, the Church of St. Vincent de Paul, and the Square Cavaillé-Coll. Once in Roermond, my host's nephew Wouter meets me at the train station and escorts me to the city hall to check out the carillon: light, bright, easy to play. Whew! After dinner we meet up with my e-mail pen pal Inge and her daughter Sonja who come upstairs to watch me play and then take me home to Gelsenkirchen. Inge and I have been practicing German and English together for a few years now. Friday is free to spend with their family, and we attend an exciting flamenco performance in the evening. Inge brings me to Oirschot for my Saturday afternoon recital. It is a very nice medium-weight carillon with good action. After a few Duvals (devilishly strong Belgian beer) with the carillonneur and the mayor of Oirschot, my next host Erik takes me to Peer where I will play on Sunday evening. The Peer carillon is now one of the nicest in Belgium. The transmission system is well done and the recently installed playing console is the American standard--unique in Belgium. It is comfortable to play and very responsive. The American pedal range plus the extra treble bells here enable me to play my original transcription of Francisco Tárrega's Recuerdos de la Alhambra rather than the compromised "Euro" version that I've had to play in most venues. The warm Petit & Fritsen bells sing well from this tower, making the tremolando style of playing live up to its Flemish monicker, gebonden zang (legato melody).

 

Here is the program that I've been playing in most places:

 

Prelude III, Matthias van den Gheyn; Evocation, John Courter; Preludio (Partita for Violin, S.1006), J.S. Bach; Variations on a Slavonic Theme, John Pozdro; Klinget, Glöckchen, klinget (from The Magic Flute), Laudate Dominum (from Vesperae Solemnes de Confessore), Four German Dances, W.A. Mozart; Sweelinck Fantasy, Albert de Klerk; Burlesca, John Ellis; Recuerdos de la Alhambra, Francisco Tárrega; Variations on "Ode to Joy," Brian Swager.

Carillon News

by Brian Swager
Default

Historical Carillon Recording

 

Historische Beiaardopnamen - Volume 1 - 1925-1950. Vlaamse Beiaardvereniging, 2000.

The Flemish Carillon Guild has begun a compact disc series featuring historical carillon recordings. The first CD documents the carillon art in Flanders during the period between 1925 and 1950. The recordings, taken from the archives of the Flemish Radio & Television and from the archives of the Royal Carillon School "Jef Denyn," are invaluable sources of information.

Several carillons are heard in conditions which no longer exist: either they were completely retuned (Ghent), completely or partially destroyed during World War II (Nivelles), or recently replaced by new instruments (Oudenaarde). These recordings are our only link to the former sound of these instruments. They demonstrate that some carillons had a surprisingly warm timbre, but that the majority were quite out of tune.

Another revealing aspect of the CD is the interpretation of the performers:  Jef Denyn, founding director of the Belgian Carillon School, his celebrated colleagues Staf Nees and Léon Henry, as well as seven less well known carillonneurs. Their manner of playing often reveals the technical condition of the instrument:  a stiff connection between the keys and clappers was inherent to nearly every carillon. That they succeeded nonetheless in virtuosic and finely nuanced performances is a testament to the talent of carillonneurs such as Jef Denyn.  His legendary musicality is substantiated, for example, in the sublime interpretation of his own Prelude in B-flat--and this at age 76!

The CD is divided into two parts.  The first features Jef Denyn and Staf Nees, the first two directors of the Belgian Carillon School, performing primarily their own compositions. Additional tracks include Jef Denyn speaking about the Carillon School, and an interview of Staf Nees by Karel Albert Goris (Marnix Gijsen) which includes comments on the influence of Jef Denyn.  The second part is a series of sound documents in which the focus is on the sound of the instrument itself rather than the interpretation. This part includes the Hemony carillon of Ghent and the Du Mery carillon of Brugge before they were retuned. One piece is played on the Mechelen World Exposition carillon (1938) which was installed at Stanford University in 1941.

The cover photo shows the playing console in the St. Rombout's Tower in Mechelen--a vivid example of a bygone era. For a genuine impression of the state of affairs during the period in question, this CD is indispensable. Any filtering which would have altered the timbre and adversely affected the authenticity of the recordings was avoided in the editing process. The primitive recording equipment with which the original recordings were made provides for a nostalgic character such as it would have sounded on an old phonograph.

One track features Jef Denyn speaking in 1937 (translated from Flemish):  "The Carillon School was founded in Mechelen in August, 1922, in commemoration of my 35 years as carillonneur.  Its purpose is to train excellent carillonneurs to play the instrument artistically and sensitively. The curriculum consists of playing both manual and pedal; secondly:  the automatic carillon, theory, adapting accompaniments, knowledge of the notes and names. Applied:  arranging music, programming the automatic carillon, carillon construction."

Interview of Staf Nees by Karel Albert Goris (Marnix Gijsen)

Mr. Nees, what do you think was the significance of your great predecessor?

Above all I believe that Jef Denyn is the one who revived the carillon art which in general had waned by the end of the previous century. I must say, however, that Mechelen kept the tradition going, a tradition that Denyn perpetuated by founding the Carillon School in 1922.

The work of our great master carillonneur is significant in that, beginning in Mechelen, he resurrected the carillon art by renovating neglected or poorly installed carillons, by building new instruments, by having other cities organize evening concerts in the Mechelen tradition, and last but not least by creating and promoting a carillon repertory that had been virtually nonexistent and is now known both here and abroad.

 

And of course I must ask you Mr. Nees, how many carillonneurs has the school in Mechelen trained so far?

Well, we can't say exactly, but there have been approximately 250, and note that these were students from fifteen different countries. The best of these students are now working not just in Belgium but all over the world. Under Mechelen's impulse, a new carillon school has been established in The Netherlands that helps to promote the carillon art. Our former students are also active in countries such as France, England, Ireland, Denmark, the United States, Canada, New Zealand, South Africa, etc.

 

So you're saying that it is thanks to Jef Denyn that the carillon art is thriving once again?

Absolutely. We owe everything to Jef Denyn and the traditions maintained in Mechelen. His influence continues to have an impact and to grow. Take for example the ever increasing number of new carillons here and elsewhere. In this respect, we can easily compare our time with the carillon art's most flourishing period in the 17th century.

 

Even a layman such as myself can tell that Mechelen is without rival as the center of the carillon art.

Of course! Let me add that not only does our carillon school continue to thrive, it is held in high regard all over the world as the central source of carillon art. Former students eagerly return to Mechelen to reunite in their efforts to spread the Mechelen tradition abroad. So you see, it is above all Mechelen that plays a guiding role for carillonneurs throughout the world.

Good music for the carillon is either music written specifically for the instrument or good arrangements of existing music. Our primary concern is that it is simple and clear, not too complex harmonically or contrapuntally. Excellent pieces for the carillon repertory can be drawn from the music of the early Flemish harpsichordists: Fiocco, Krafft, Boutmy, Vanden Gheyn--who was an exceptional organist and carillonneur and wrote several excellent works for carillon--and composers from earlier times such as Couperin, Rameau, Purcell and others.

Works written specifically for carillon are especially important. We heartily urge all composers--especially our own Flemish composers--to take an interest in our instrument. We encourage them to consult with a proficient carillonneur and by all means to take inspiration from our beautiful old Flemish songs that are so simple but sound uncommonly good on the carillon.

 

 

With this CD, Historical Carillon Recordings I (1925-1950), the Flemish Carillon Guild is making a significant contribution to the preservation of our cultural heritage.  The Guild hopes to present the second volume (1950-1975) in the near future.

Carillon News

by Brian Swager
Default

Profile: McDonogh School

The McDonogh School is an independent, endowed, non-denominational, college preparatory school for boys and girls. The spacious 775-acre country campus with colonial and contemporary brick buildings lies to the northwest of Baltimore, Maryland. Established in 1873, John McDonogh had provided for this school for promising boys who would not otherwise have been able to obtain an education. Paying students were admitted for the first time in 1922, and in 1975 the school became coeducational.

The McDonogh Carillon was given by Mr. H. Beale Rollins (class of 1915) and his wife in 1978. The 48 bells were cast by the Petit and Fritsen Bellfoundry of Aarle-Rixtel, The Netherlands. The bourdon weighs 3,300 pounds, sounds D, and is connected to C on the keyboard. The carillon hangs in the tower of the Tagart Memorial Chapel. A chime of ten bells, crafted at Baltimore's McShane Bellfoundry for the new chapel in 1898, was in use until 1978.

William S. Lyon-Vaiden has been the McDonogh Carillonneur since the instrument's installation. A special series of summer recitals on Friday evenings at 7:00 during July and August features guest recitalists from the U.S. and abroad.

Profile: Holland, Pennsylvania

Trinity United Church of Christ in Holland, Pennsylvania--near Philadelphia--is home to a unique carillon installation. The first 25 bells for the Schneider Memorial Carillon were a gift of Mr. and Mrs. Henry Schneider. Cast in 1929 by the Meneely Bell Foundry in Watervliet, New York, the original two-octave instrument was dedicated by Melvin Corbett in 1930. It was one of few American-made carillons. A third octave was realized in 1954/55 with the addition of twelve Petit & Fritsen bells. In September 1968, the carillon was removed from the tower at Broad and Venango Streets in Philadelphia and taken to the Verdin Company in Cincinnati for storage and renewal of some of the mechanism. Upon completion of the new church building, it was installed at its present location in 1970. On the occasion of the nation's Bicentennial, twelve more Petit & Fritsen bells completed the fourth octave. The 3000-pound bourdon sounds E-flat and is keyed to C, hence the instrument transposes up a minor third. In contrast with most tower installations, the playing cabin of the Schneider carillon is on ground level, and the bells hang from an open steel frame that sits atop the cabin.

Lisa Lonie, carillonneur of Trinity Church, plays for regular church services. A special series of summer recitals on Thursday evenings at 7:30 during July and August features Lonie, other Philadelphia-area carillonneurs, and guest recitalists from the U.S. and abroad.

Profile: Roeselare, Belgium

Each of the 13 stories of St. Michael's Church in Roeselare, Belgium, has a story to tell. Rebuilt following a fire that leveled the city in 1488, the Sint-Michielskerk lost its 300-foot spire to a storm in 1735, and the current campanile was erected in the middle of the 18th century. Four swinging bells hang in the attic from a large frame that supports their total weight of seven tons. A mechanical tower clock from the city hall is preserved in the tower of St. Michael's. Tourists can read a series of didactic texts on the walls that chronicle the history of several centuries of bell ringing traditions in this old Flemish city. In fact, the Roeselare bell ringers guild claims that theirs is the only place in Flanders where the tradition of tolling bells manually is preserved.

During the 19th century, the Roeselare carillon was composed of a hodgepodge of 38 bells that were played by a pneumatic system from an ivory type keyboard devised by the Ghent organbuilder Lovaert. The bells were played by the church organist until the system fell into an unplayable state of disrepair. In 1893 a new carillon was cast by Severinus van Aerschodt of Louvain and connected to a Mechelen/Denyn-standard console fabricated by Desiré Somers. In 1917, during the first World War, these bells were plundered by the Germans. Marcel Michiels of Doornik cast 35 bells (bourdon of 1,332 pounds) for Roeselare  in 1921. The bells were recast in Doornik in 1939 and returned to the tower. The bourdon had grown to 1,378 pounds. Twelve Eijsbouts bells were added in 1988, and in 1992 the old bells were returned, a new bass bell was added, and a new playing console was installed. The lightweight instrument now comprises 49 bells from a 1,962-pound bourdon which sounds F and is keyed to B-flat; hence the instrument transposes up a fifth. Koen Cosaert is municipal carillonneur of Roeselare, Izegem, and Harelbeke, an organist in Kortrijk, and an instructor at the Royal Belgian Carillon School in Mechelen. The carillon is played every Tuesday morning and every other Saturday at noon. A special series of evening recitals is organized each year from June through September. Guided tours of the tower are available from June through September; phone (051)207-843 for group reservations.

An interview with Marilyn Mason

50 years of teaching at The University of Michigan, Part 2

by Dennis Schmidt
Default

Part 1 of this interview appeared in the October issue of The Diapason, pp. 16-21.

Q: I just wonder how you get all your energy.

A: Well, maybe it's because I'm from Oklahoma. I do exercise a lot. I walk quite a bit and I used to bike a lot, too.

Q: Does everybody in Oklahoma have energy like that?

A: It depends on the genes. They're always friendly, I know that.

Q: What suggestions do you have for young organists?

A: There might be some suggestions which are based on my own experience. One of them is the Boy Scout motto: "Be prepared," because as I look back the break that I had was in 1950 when the Boston AGO called me to say "Robert Ellis was to play and he cannot play. Will you play the Schoenberg 'Variations' for us?" I had less than two weeks to prepare this piece. But fortunately I had been prepared. I'd had my lessons with Schoenberg. I'd been preparing the piece and playing it for some time. I had it memorized.

The second thing is to be flexible. That is, if someone asks you to play, don't say, "I won't play because we don't have four manuals." Don't say, "I can't play because there's only two manuals."  Roll with the punches, be willing to fit into the situation. It's better to be playing a recital and have to make a few compromises than not be playing at all.

The third thing, very important, is be dependable. If you say you will be there, if you say you will do such and such, be there, do it. Be known for your dependability and your accountability.

Don't procrastinate. That comes along with being dependable. Don't put things off. I have a very fine colleague in the organ department--James Kibbie. He is the splendid example of this. He never procrastinates. If I suggest something or if I ask him to do something, he does it immediately. I think that's an important aspect of our work. If for any reason I might have to put off something, it's because my inner sense of the whole situation says "wait." We all know of situations where if you had waited a little bit things would have worked out a little better than if you had gone ahead immediately. So I say procrastination with a grain of salt--using your own judgment.

These four things matter: to be prepared, to be flexible, to be dependable, and not to procrastinate.

Q: Please tell about the Fisk organ here which is named "The Marilyn Mason Organ."

A: The organ which stands in the Blanche Anderson Moore Hall in the School of Music is a result of a lot of thinking and consulting and wondering what was going to happen next with our department. Robert Clark was teaching with us at the time we were thinking and trying to decide. He had just made his first trip to what was formerly East Germany. We knew that we were going to have this fund started by Judith Barnett Metz. She told me, "I would like to do something in your honor. Would you like a Marilyn Mason scholarship?" I said, "Well, we need an organ more than anything." So she gave Michigan the initial funds. Bob Clark said, "We should have a copy of one of those beautiful Silbermanns because we don't have anything like that." At that time, about 1979-80, there was nothing like that in the States. So he was the one who gave us that marvelous idea, and the whole faculty--Robert Glasgow, James Kibbie & Michele Johns--thought it was the right thing to do. So, that's what we did. The interesting thing is how it came about. I went to our Dean, Paul Boylan (and he had just become the Dean in 1979). I said, "We're going to have this money for an organ, but we can't have an organ without a place to house it." He said, "I want to have a rehearsal/concert hall for musical theater, because we're expanding that wonderfully." Then he said, "Can't we think about combining the two?" which is of course what we did. So we arranged to visit President Shapiro (this was during his very early days in office) and called on him together with this proposal. He said, "I'll be glad to help you and I think it a good idea." So he was very helpful in getting us funds from the legislature. Then there was other money which helped us get the Palmer Christian Lobby. People donated for that. The Earl V. Moore people donated for that. Bill Doty, Mildred Andrews and Franklin Mitchell also donated to the lobby. The hall is named for Blanche Anderson Moore (wife of Earl V. Moore) who was a very devoted patron of the arts. She came to many organ recitals. I remember seeing her at Hill Auditorium when some of us were playing. And so we named this hall in her honor. The organ contract was signed in 1980 with Charlie Fisk, who said, "I won't have the organ for you until 1985." We said, "Oh, it will never come." He said, "It will be here quicker than you can realize." That was really the truth--it was here very quickly. We dedicated the organ on October 4, 1985, and it was a special occasion.

Q: Was the organ named for you at that time?

A: No, that was a few years later. Dean Boylan said that it should be named for me because the initial funds had been given by Judith Barnett Metz in my honor. This was a very nice gesture, and I appreciate it very much.

The organ is modeled after a Silbermann, but there is no specific organ which it copies. We would not want, and  we could not make a perfect copy simply because the hall is different and the time is different. We're no longer in the 18th century. In most of the churches where the Silbermanns stand the organ is in the west gallery, while this one is in the front. We have a very nice situation the way the hall is built. There are tiers of steps that go up to the organ. Last night, as part of our Institute, there was a choral concert with James Abbington, conductor. The singers were standing on these different steps, and it was nice for the 20 singers to be heard that way in  acoustics quite sympathetic for the voices.

Q: The Fisk organ has provided the students there with an opportunity to encounter historic organ building principles that they wouldn't have in other places.

A: Exactly. It's been a big impetus for us. I am especially glad that we could provide the original type winding: the bellows may be hand pumped and a recital could go on despite an electrical storm, and Michigan has them. With this organ, our teaching organs and the organ at Hill Auditorium, we feel very blessed. We have 16 practice organs plus 3 teaching organs and 2 performance organs. We have the magic number of Bach--21.

Q: Would you talk about your family?

A: My first husband was Professor Richard K. Brown. Many of my students knew him. He was a true gentleman, a wonderful engineer and teacher, a man whom I had first met in 1945. We were married in 1949 (long enough time for him to see me in action, so to speak, and he knew what he was getting). He continued teaching at the University of Michigan until he retired in 1987.

We have two sons. The first is Merritt Christian Brown (named after my father and Palmer Christian), born in 1955. He's a scientist who earned his Ph.D. here at Michigan. He took classes with his father in engineering. He would come home and tell his father, "You could make that course even more strict. You have some very gifted students in there." Richard would say, "But I'm aiming for the middle students as well as the gifted ones." Then he would say to his son, "Please, don't go into engineering." Our son played the violin just wonderfully, studying with Gustave Rosseels at Michigan. When he would finish practicing, I would say, "Oh, Chris, you play so beautifully, but please don't go into music." So, here was this young man with opposing directives, so he chose acoustics. After earning the Ph.D., he continued research in the Kresge Hearing Laboratory. Later, he read a paper at an acoustical conference in Los Angeles. An engineer who heard him there said, "We would be very interested in having you join our research at Massachusetts General Hospital." Chris was intrigued with the work they were doing, so he joined that research group. His mentor there was Nelson Kiang. Dr. Kiang later invited him to teach at Harvard. He is Associate Professor at the Harvard Medical School where he teaches physiology. His specialty has been the inner ear. His music and his engineering led him into this.

To me, that's a lesson that young people must know. You must explore the options, and how better to explore the options than to go to school. If you're a freshman or sophomore in school and not happy with what you're doing, it may be that the Lord in telling you to go in a different direction.

I had a wonderful student, Weston Brown. After his sophomore year, he said, "You may be mad at me, but I think I want to change my major." I said, "No, I want you to do what you want to do." He said, "I am making straight A's in German and I am making a B in music history." I said, "The Lord is trying to tell you something." He said, "I love German." He earned the Bachelor's and Master's and later a Ph.D. from Columbia in German and musicology. That's a fine example of how you can find options if you keep watching. The best advice is to watch for the options and hope to find something that you enjoy doing. Try not to think about money. If you think only about the money you will make, you may end up doing something that you don't enjoy .

Our second son is Edward Brown, a wonderful young man who's a free-lance photographer. He lives in California. He likes California because the light is always wonderful there. But I think he loves it because there's no snow, fog or ice.

Q: Did either son have an urge to play the organ?

A: Not really, probably because they heard so much playing. It didn't turn them off, but they probably thought one organist was enough. I practice the piano a lot a home. Once one of our neighbors, Mary Sinnott, said to our son Edward, aged 10, "What's your mother doing?" He said, "She's playing the piano." The next day, Mrs Sinnott said, "What's she doing now?" He said, "She's still playing the piano." They got used to that.

When they were younger, I put them to bed with organ music on the house organ which my husband and I assembled in 1955. I gave that organ to two doctoral students, Howard & Marie Mehler. We purchased a small Walker tracker for practicing. My family has always been very supportive but also understanding with my schedule. The dishes may not get done or the beds made if I have to practice.

In 1991 my husband had enjoyed four years of retirement. Gardening was one of his interests and his beautiful rhododendrons still bloom. He suffered a stroke on May 7, 1991. We had to take him to the hospital. We thought he would recover from this, but on July 23 he slipped away. Both of our sons were extremely supportive of me at that time. Even though I had this great loss, I still had my teaching which was a comfort to me. I had become organist of the First Congregational Church in 1984. There, Tom Marshall had been my trusty assistant. I had the inspiration of the Wilhelm organ at the church and we had the Fisk here.

In the autumn of 1991, I felt more settled. Music was a great support to me. One of our good friends, Jim O'Neill, formerly chairman of the French department, called. "We have a dear friend and he would like for you to play a memorial service for his wife who died some time ago." Other friends, Mary and Bill Palmer, arranged dinner where I met William Steinhoff. Later, he came to the house to discuss music he wanted--mostly Bach and Mozart. I played for that service in January of 1992. After that, we had lunches and dinners. It was satisfying to spend time with someone who was not in music and yet who was very supportive. It's important to have a sympathetic person near you, someone who understands you. He is an emeritus Professor of English Literature at Michigan. Although he had taught here for 30 years, I had never met him. We were married on May 8, 1993. Someone said, "What did you do about music?" I said, "I played for my wedding!" We were to be at the church Saturday morning at 11:00. My sons were there along with Bill's nephew and niece. No one else was present. I said, "Well, I'm just going to play the prelude." So I played the Guilmant March on a Theme of Handel. Bill came in, saying, "Am I late?" So, Terry Smith performed the service for us. Then I moved to the organ and played the Widor "Toccata." That was a fine ending for our wedding service.

Q: Do you have brothers and sisters who are musical?

A: My brother James Clark Mason was musical. He was a wonderful family man, and loved his four children and wife. He died two years ago. My sister, Carolyn Mason Weinmeister, is active in computers and computer programming.   She enjoys music and sports. She lives in Oklahoma City and has one daughter and son.

Q: How do you keep your positive attitude?

A: A lot of this is based on the loving care that we had as children. Both our mother and father were supportive of us. My mother always did the cooking and dishes so that I could practice the piano or go to the church and practice the organ. A loving home, to be surrounded by such love, and a religious home, to be surrounded by Presbyterian Protestantism--these things are what you cannot take away but also what you can't buy. Parents must be aware of this when raising children. That religious upbringing that I was given is something that no one can ever take away and I hope I never forget.

Q: You continue to be a church organist, and you've been a church organist for a long time along with your teaching. Have you been an organist at several churches in Ann Arbor?

A: I was a substitute organist at the Presbyterian Church where we belonged for many years. When Zion Lutheran needed an organist, the music committee invited me to play there. I was the organist for many years in the early sixties. John Merrill was the choral conductor. I enjoyed the liturgical service and the Lutherans. I enjoy being a church organist and I like to play hymns.  I sometimes remind the students that if they are church musicians the title "church" comes first, with the flexibility and dependability that I mentioned earlier. And, after all, that is usually where the best organs are!

We were out at our lake cottage one Labor Day weekend, and I had to return for church on Sunday at Zion Lutheran. I went to the Schantz organ, saw the bulletin and #15 for the processional hymn. I opened the hymnal and found "Joy to the World." This was on Labor Day weekend! I thought--these Lutherans, if they want "Joy to the World" they're going to have it! I really gave it the full treatment. The choir came down the aisle with their books under their arms. Not a person was singing. When they arrived in the chancel the minister announced, "And now we'll have the opening hymn, number such-and-such." I had misread it and the "15" was the page number for the order of service. Regardless, I enjoyed the Lutheran service very much.

In 1963, I had a fine student, Donald Williams, who was just graduating. I recommended that he take over and he was invited. Dr. Williams was the organist/choirmaster at Zion Lutheran for over 30 years.

We need not frown on church and service music. As I said, that's where the good organs will be. We have at First Congregational a wonderful conductor, Willis Patterson, who inspires us all. My assistant, James Nissen, is Associate Director of Music. He is so versatile that he can play if I am gone or conduct if Willis is gone. That is good.

Q: The fact that you keep active in church music is a testimony to your own students and a good way that you can tell your students what they are going to experience when they go out to church jobs as well, because you know just what they will encounter. I think a lot of organ teachers in colleges are detached from that.

A: I don't want to ask my students to go into church music without experiencing it myself. We must not be detached from church music. We must be right in the swing.

One thing I do tell my students who move into church positions: You're a new organist and choir director in a church. If you don't hear anything, you're terrific. Keep telling yourself that. You'll always hear when somebody doesn't like it. When they don't like it, you must smile and try to agree. Don't be defensive. They may have a reason for saying so.

Q: I'd like to know when the cooking requirement came into the DMA program.

A: All my students, even Master's degree students, are invited to cook a meal for us. That idea came in the '50s. One of the nice meals that was prepared was by John McCreary and Phil Steinhaus. They knew that Jean Langlais was coming. They said, "We'll prepare a Master's dinner." So they prepared a wonderful dinner for us. It's referred to on page 15 of the book, Hommage à Langlais, in Langlais' diary, where he says, "We've had a dinner with the students and Marilyn Mason and her husband." That dinner was memorable because there was a pot roast which was luscious. The flavoring on the meat, the carrots and onions were delicious, but the potatoes had been added too late and they were hard. Langlais was trying to eat them with his knife and fork and said, "Is this some new vegetable in the United States that we don't know about?" Poor John was so chagrined. Those potatoes will always be remembered as the ones that didn't make it. That was the beginning of that requirement. And I am now so proud of Phil, his wonderful career as organist/choirmaster and his work with Aeolian-Skinner, and with John, too, 30 years in the Cathedral in Honolulu as Organist/ Choirmaster! I do feel we had that cooking requirement especially for the men, but we must all learn to cook.

Q: You're certainly well known for your jokes. For many years you had a joke book that you lost along the way.

A: No--it was stolen at Riverside Church. I was playing a recital there. The organ console had two large mirrors so the audience could see while you play. I thought I would put my purse right behind me. That purse had my joke book and some jewelry. Someone reached in behind and took the whole thing. Someone said, "What nicer way to lose it than to have it stolen from Riverside Church." But I've kept a lot of stories in my head. Along with flexibility comes a sense of humor--mostly to be willing to laugh at yourself. If we can have the light touch as we go along, I think that helps.

Q: Along with that, can you think of some humorous incidents in your travels that would be interesting?

A: I can think of some humorous things that happened here in Ann Arbor. I was playing for freshman convocation in the first week in September for about 4,000 new students. I had played the prelude, but they asked me to play a special piece. I chose the Haines "Toccata," which is something that I enjoy playing and can play without too much extra practice. The Dean of the Faculty, Charles Odegaard, looked over at me and said, "And now our organist will play --Miss Marilyn Monroe." All of these students just howled, and he was so embarrassed. He said, "Oh, I'm sure Miss Mason will do just as well." Then I did play and it was fun.

Another thing that happened at Hill Auditorium occurred in 1985. I had scheduled a series of 16 recitals of the music of Bach (1985 was 300th anniversary of Bach's birth). So I was doing that series here at the Fisk organ every Sunday afternoon at 4:00. But I was also supposed to play for a graduation ceremony at Hill Auditorium at 2:30. So I said to my colleague Sam Koontz (our organ technician at Hill Auditorium who knew the organ like the back of his hand and who had been one of my Master's students), "Will you please play the final hymn, which is the Michigan hymn, and then a postlude?" Sam said, "I'll be glad to." I played the opening prelude, the processional and "The Star-Spangled Banner." The console was in the corner on the far stage left. By this time it was about 3:00 and I needed to leave. So I left, and Sam was on the bench. I got to the Fisk on time and played the Bach recital in the afternoon. But I heard afterwards, the Vice President of the University, Richard Kennedy, had said at Hill (which he had never done before) "We're so happy to have our organist today--please thank Marilyn Mason." He looked back at the console. Sam threw up his hands in dismay, because I wasn't there. After that, when I was thanked for these occasions, Mr. Kennedy always looked back to see me.

Q: You mentioned that there have been 111 doctoral students. Do you have any idea of the total number of students you have taught?

A: No, I don't. But in over 50 years there were a lot of students. I wish I'd kept track, but at the time that is not the most important thing. Actually, we have graduated 600 organists in the Bachelor's and Master's programs since the first ones in 1932.

Q: I remember seeing the sea of people at your recognition dinner in 1986. All those people had been touched by your life, and also by the blue pencils that were given to each one.

A: I got the idea of the blue pencil from Palmer Christian. It's such a good way to mark music and it's easy on the eyes. It's a very important thing to mark fingering and how you're going to do things--not to have a Monday way, a Wednesday way, and a Thursday way. I have a student, Robert Jones, in Houston, who's fanatic about that. The strategy in the hand helps us to play. There are many people who say they're far too "creative" to mark their fingering. These are very often the ones who don't play as well as the ones who know where they're going.

The next thing is making the goals in your study. If you have a piece you want to learn, divide it into sections rather than trying to learn the whole thing all at once. Young people should have goals to learn certain music. In the semester system, we have juries for the music the student has learned. I don't know but that all of us don't waste time by being rather aimless. We waste time by not having an objective. That's why I've enjoyed teaching, because the goal is to be there and to have a plan.

Another goal I've had over the last five years is recording all the works of Pachelbel. He's such an imaginative composer. He doesn't have the rhetoric of the North Germans. He has a sweetness, placidity and strength in his music, and it has been a great joy to learn and play his music. These are recorded in the Musical Heritage Series. I began the series with the freely composed works, but then there were enough chorale preludes for three disks. The chorale preludes were written for services or as interludes for hymns. So we decided that the chorale would be sung first. A gifted tenor in the doctoral program, Robert Breault, sang the melodies. After  recording the chorales, we came to the Magnificats. I asked a Benedictine monk, Irwin West, to sing the alternation. There are more Magnificats written for the first tone than for any other. Dr. Tom Strode and his Boychoir sang the alternation for Volumes 7 and 8.

Q: Have you done some additional teaching elsewhere in addition to your teaching at Michigan?

A: I did some  teaching at Columbia University during summers while I was in doctoral studies. I taught at St. Paul's Chapel at Columbia, where Searle Wright was the organist. I also taught at Pomona College in Claremont and at the school in Brazil. But I love Michigan a lot. What's wonderful about teaching is that the clientele changes. I have had students for as many as four or five years. I have recommended that some of my students study with my other colleagues in the department. Prof. Glasgow, Dr. Kibbie, and Dr. Johns each have their own special things to offer.

Robert Glasgow excels in the nineteenth-century interpretations, while Dr. Kibbie enjoys the baroque and contemporary. Michele Johns with her expertise and experience has brought  much to our curriculum in church music practices. Her position as organist/choirmaster at Our Lady of Good Counsel, Plymouth, has given "hands-on" experience to so many of our students.

Q: Was there ever a thought that you would go anywhere else to teach?

A: I had a wonderful offer from USC  and Raymond Kendall in the '50s. But I talked to my husband and to Dean Moore and decided to stay here.

Q: In a job interview, someone once asked me what I would like written on my tombstone. What would you like to be remembered for?

A: You would like to think that the things you have done have been a blessing to other people and that you were kind. We all have our own opportunity to serve. So, for the stone, I have two suggestions: "She served and enjoyed" or "S. D. G."

Q: Thank you, Marilyn, for your 50 years of teaching at the University of Michigan and for the positive influence you have had on so many lives!

The Trials,Tribulations and Joys of an Organist on Tour

by Charles Beck
Default

During July, 1997, Janice Beck was scheduled to play nine organ recitals in four different European countries, a recital every three days.  In fact, she played eight recitals in three countries.  This account is a detailed description of that tour, its trials, tribulations and joys.

Peterborough, England

On June 26 we left Detroit Metropolitan Airport, two hours late because of a faulty toilet that had to be repaired, arriving at Gatwick Airport, London at 10:00 a.m. the following morning.  After going through Immigration and Customs, we picked up our Britrail passes, and caught a train to Kings Cross Station in London. At 1:10 p.m. we departed for Peterborough, arriving about 2:00. Although we had specific directions to our lodging in the Cathedral Precincts, the taxi driver had no idea how to get there, so he simply dropped us off, in the rain, somewhere in the vicinity of the Cathedral. After inquiring of several helpful pedestrians, we found the bed and breakfast operated by the wife of a canon on the cathedral staff. For the next four nights we enjoyed staying in their lovely old home, part of which dates from the 15th century. Although Janice's first recital, in the Peterborough Cathedral Festival, was not until July 1st, we had arrived early in order to recover from jet-lag prior to the recital.

After a pleasant chat and tea with our hostess, we took a much needed nap followed by a good, but very expensive meal in a nearby hotel. Needless to say, we went to bed early. We awoke to a dreary morning, but feeling somewhat refreshed after a good night's sleep. The weather was, to say the least, miserable with low clouds, rain and wind, and a temperature in the 50s. Unfortunately this weather was predicted to last for a week, and it did. Following breakfast, (and what a breakfast it was: grapefruit, eggs sunny side up, ham, sausage, baked tomato, mushrooms, toast, jams and tea), we walked a few hundred yards and entered the great cathedral for the first time. Although one of the largest and most beautiful of English cathedrals, Peterborough is less well known than some others. Dating from the 14th century, it is famous for the longest painted wooden ceiling in Britain.

Janice had been promised six hours practice time, but we had hoped to arrange additional time. Although it was apparent that the cathedral was vacant each day early in the morning, the festival administrator was unable to arrange additional practice time on the cathedral instrument. He did, however, allow Janice to practice on an ancient two-manual tracker instrument in another church of which he was organist about a mile from the cathedral. So for the next two days we walked in a cold rain to All Saints Church for practice. The All Saints organ, built by Forster and Andrews of Hull in 1908, and apparently in its original state, is characterized by lovely flues and reeds, and strings of remarkably French-sounding tonal qualities. It has, however, two drawbacks: 1) The pedals are very close together, the pedal board being 6 inches narrower than typical modern pedal boards, and 2) as one might expect of a tracker instrument of this vintage, it has a heavy action. But its beautiful tonal qualities in the marvelous acoustical milieu of All Saints Church compensated handsomely for these deficiencies. Whereas the opportunity for Janice to practice in All Saints allowed her, in some ways, to maintain her program in top form, it did nothing to prepare her to use the Cathedral console, and practicing on such an unconventional pedal board may well have been a disadvantage.

On Sunday morning our hostess escorted us to the 10:30 service in the cathedral. We sat in the choir just beneath the organ which we heard for the first time. The service was beautiful. The excellent men and boys choir sang a Schubert Mass with various movements interpsersed throughout the service. The organ, a Hill, Norman and Beard, renovated in the '80s by Harrison and Harrison is an excellent service instrument, but as we knew from the specification, not a very large instrument, and equipped with only 8 generals (not duplicated by toe studs) and a capture-type combination action.

Since the theme of the Cathedral Festival was "The French Connection," Janice had been asked to play a program with an emphasis on French compositions. Whereas she had planned to play the "Communion" and "Sortie" from Messiaen's Pentecost Mass and some short works of Vierne in her tour program, she felt compelled to add another French work to this program, and she chose the Franck Choral No. 3 in A Minor.

Finally on the night before the concert, we gained access to the cathedral instrument with only four hours to register a full-length recital, and to become accustomed to the console in any time that might have been left. With only 8 generals available, registering the program became a nightmare, but by using divisional pistons and assigning me the task of some manual stop-pulling during both the Franck and Messiaen, the job was accomplished. There was no time for practice, however, that being relegated to a brief period the following day.

After the 1:00 p.m. recital we were to catch the 15:37 to London which gave us very little time to retrieve our luggage from the B & B and get to the train station. Consequently, we did not tarry long after the concert. We had expected the festival administrator to present us with the agreed-upon artist's fee, but he was nowhere to be found, much to the consternation of our B & B hosts and the cathedral organist. We received a check two months later.

We arrived at London Kings Cross station just in time for the afternoon rush hour, took the Underground to Waterloo Station, arriving into a throbbing mass of humanity, all, like us, trying to get to the proper platform for their respective trains for home or, in our case, for Windsor.  With two large suitcases, a large brief case containing scores, and a mid-sized carry-on, we finally made our way to the proper platform, boarded the 17:42 for Windsor, collapsed, exhausted, in our seats, and arrived one hour later. Our "overnight" stay in a B&B turned out to be a half-night's stay, only, since we were required to appear at Heathrow Airport two hours prior to our 6:50 departure for Copenhagen. So we pulled ourselves out of bed at 3:45 a.m., dressed, had some tea and ate a soggy sandwich. The taxi arrived on time at 4:30 for the 20 minute drive to Heathrow.

Poland

The flight to Copenhagen was excellent, with an efficient and very polite crew, and a delicious breakfast. We arrived in Copenhagen at 10:00 a.m., changed planes and left at 11:00 for Szczecin, Poland, a city of about 500,000 population. As we approached the Szczecin airport we were surprised at the lack of activity and any evidence of commercial development in the vicinity. Upon landing it became apparent that our plane was the only one there except for a few derelict World War II fighter planes parked alongside a taxi strip. And no other planes arrived during the time it took to go through customs and immigration. The small, antiquated terminal building, probably dating from the 1940s, had obviously not been improved or expanded since it was built. We had just had our first glimpse of the legacy of communist domination in Poland for over 40 years.

After being frisked with metal detection devices, we were interrogated by an official who spoke only halting English. We were taken aback when he asked, "You go to Santa Monica?" After a pause, Janice replied, "We have been to Santa Monica in California." He seemed as surprised by that reply as we were by his question. But after a few seconds and a quizzical look, he waved us on.

Kamien

We joined our hosts, Bogdan and Laura Marcinkowski, who drove us to Kamien Pomorski, about 60 kilometers away. As we approached a park-like area of the town we drove under an arch that bore in large letters, in English, the name, Santa Monica Institute. We soon learned that our lodging was a hospice where persons, many from Scandinavian countries, went to rest and recuperate from serious illnesses, or to spend their last days! Perhaps, because of our lack of sleep the previous night, we appeared terminally ill to the immigration official at the Szczecin airport. Although our room was immaculately clean, we felt somewhat uncomfortable in the Santa Monica Institute among the many ill inhabitants.

The elegant 12th-century cathedral in Kamien, built by Germans and used for many centuries by Lutherans, is characterized by an acoustical milieu of indescribable beauty. The Michael Berigel organ, of north German style dating from the latter part of the 18th century is characterized by beautiful, brilliant mixtures, glorious flues, several excellent solo stops, and reeds so terribly out of tune that their character could not be accurately assessed. The instrument was, however, very difficult to play because of a very heavy tracker action, and a flat pedal board of unusual dimensions and placement-narrow from side to side as well as from front to back, and set back at least six inches from the front of the console. To play the pedals the bench had to be placed so far from the console that it was almost impossible to reach the top manual without losing one's balance. An even greater hindrance to Janice, however, in playing the program she had planned, was the fact that, unknown to her, the entire Positiv division had been removed for renovation as had about half of the pedal pipes. With some creative registrations, however, the program was successful. And what beautiful, ethereal sounds in that marvelous acoustical environment. One would die for a Koppelflöte like that used as a solo stop in the Vierne Arabesque.

The concert in Kamien Pomorski as well as the following concert in Szczecin were part of the International Festival of Organ and Chamber Music. Each concert consisted of both organ works and works performed by a chamber group. In Kamien, the organ works alternated with works played by an excellent trombone quintet, whereas in Szczecin the organ works comprised the first half of the concert with the second half consisting of choral works by a Swedish choir. In Kamien, as well as in every other venue in Poland and Slovakia, there were large audiences, with most venues filled to capacity.

Szczecin

From Kamien, we traveled by train to Szczecin. Kamien is at the southern end of a spur, about twenty kilometers from the main rail line across northern Poland. The little train arrived about 10 minutes prior to departure time. The metal seats, without cushioning, were painted bright red. To say they were uncomfortable would be a gross understatement. The train departed on time, chugged along slowly for a few minutes and stopped at a country lane to pick up several passengers. During the next half hour the train stopped several more times for passengers who were simply standing by the track in the countryside. Once we joined the main line, however, the train continued on to Szczecin without another stop.

We were met in Szczecin by a guide from the Castle of Pomeranian Princes, driven to the castle, and escorted to our rooms--a very fine guest suite consisting of a bedroom, a sitting room and a marvelous, large and luxurious bathroom. There were no glasses, no bath mats, no telephone, and no television in our suite; and more significantly, no door key. Of these, we considered the absence of a television set an asset, but we were not prepared to leave our possessions, especially Janice's valuable scores, in an unlocked room. The concierge informed us that the last guest had failed to return the key before leaving, but since he could see the door to our suite he would keep watch on it for us. Nevertheless, we insisted, much to his consternation, on having a key. Finally, a locksmith arrived, and replaced the entire lock.

The Castle, dating from the 12th century, was the residence and site of government of the ruling princes of Pomerania until the early 17th century. By 1577 the castle had attained its present form and at that time was one of the most beautiful Renaissance castles in Europe. In 1944 it was severely damaged during air raids. Reconstructed after the second world war, it is today a center of cultural activity in Szczecin.

After lunch we visited the concert hall in the castle with its relatively new instrument built by the Kaminski firm of Warsaw. Finding someone to turn on the instrument proved most difficult, and then we had to decipher the eastern European combination action, essentially an exposed setter board consisting of four rows of different colored pins, each color representing a different division of the organ and each pin representing a stop.

This instrument is characterized by loud, raucous reeds, shrill mixtures, and tight sounding flues. The tonal characteristics of the instrument and the expressed lack of knowledge of the western organ world by the castle organist is, no doubt, a reflection of the isolation imposed on Poland under Communist domination. Other instruments that Janice played in Poland and elsewhere in eastern Europe were quite beautiful although several were in bad condition, but they had been built in the 18th, 19th or early twentieth centuries.

Tired after practicing all afternoon, we had dinner and went to bed early. As we returned from the restaurant we noticed that the courtyard of the castle had been set up with chairs and that people were filing in in great numbers. A stage backed by colorful banners occupied one end of the courtyard, and we guessed that there was to be some sort of entertainment. Shortly the entire courtyard was packed to capacity, and the concert began. From our bedroom adjacent to the courtyard the music was very audible, and we lay in bed enjoying a symphony orchestra, chorus and soloists presenting music from Mozart operas. Dead tired, we dropped off to sleep before the concert ended, and were awakened, suddenly, from a deep sleep by what sounded like a war: the loud booms and flashing lights of a spectacular fireworks display. We were treated to a repeat performance of both the concert and the fireworks the following night.

The organ recital, at twelve noon on Sunday, July 6, actually went very well, but provides examples of the unexpected with which an organist must cope. As Janice walked on stage, I as page turner trailing behind, the house lights were dimmed and very bright flood lights were turned on the organ console. These lights came from only one side of the hall, and because of the angle of the console, Janice's body cast a very dark shadow on the pedal board which, as a result, was hardly visible. Seeing the pedal board was made all the more difficult by the great contrast between the brightly illuminated score and the darkened pedal board. She played the initial work on the program, by J. S. Bach, without any problem. The second work, however, was a new, unpublished composition entitled Kairos, by Pamela Decker which contained some virtuoso pedal passages. Janice had no alternative but to ask in English that the lights be adjusted so she could see the pedal board. Fortunately, some helpful person in the audience understood, made the appropriate request to the stage hands, and the lights were duly adjusted. The performance of Kairos was going well when, unannounced, a television camera crew walked on stage and began videotaping Janice (and me) from various angles. You can imagine how distracting that could be, but Janice, undaunted, maintained her concentration and completed the performance without incident.

A lasting memory of this tour will be of the wonderful people whom we met and who in various ways assisted us. We had tried repeatedly to make several telephone calls to the United States from Kamien Pomorski without success, and in Szezecin we did not have easy access to a telephone. We informed a new Polish friend, a physician and organ buff, who had attended Janice's recitals in both Kamien and Szczecin, of our difficulties, and he most graciously invited us to have dinner in his home from which we were able to make our calls.

Gdansk

The following morning, July 7, we took a taxi to the train station to begin our journey to Gdansk. Understanding no Polish, and with no English or German directions in the railroad station, we were apprehensive about determining the platform from which to board the train. The taxi driver turned out to be another "angel" to whom we will always be in debt. Of Greek descent and speaking some English, he recognized our dilemma. Upon arriving at the station, he insisted on accompanying us into the station and onto the proper platform. Rather than leaving us there, however, he stayed with us until the train arrived, raced to the far end of the train to the correct car with Janice's luggage, took it on board, and found seats for us. Needless to say, he received a large tip from me. He also received a hug from Janice, the only time, to her knowledge, she has ever hugged an angel, or for that matter, a taxi driver.

In the Gdansk suburb of Oliwa we were housed in a seminary for priests associated with the great cathedral there. Upon arrival, a young priest escorted us to our dormitory room which, even by college dormitory standards, was spartan. We had arrived in late afternoon, and soon went to the dining hall for dinner which consisted of thin cold cuts of cheese and salami, bread and tea. We were seated at a table some distance from those occupied by the young priests, not only for this, but for all meals. None of the priests took the initiative to speak to us or to engage us in conversation. We were perplexed by this isolation and still do not know the reason. Perhaps it resulted either from a lack of knowledge of English, or a lack of confidence in speaking it by those who did know some English. We, of course, could speak no Polish, so were in no position to be critical. Furthermore, although free of Russian domination for nearly l0 years, there is still very little opportunity to interact with English-speaking people from the west. Tourism has simply not caught on, at least in Northern Poland, and we saw no evidence of any effort to encourage it. In fact during our entire stay in Poland (6 days), we saw only two or three Americans.

The following morning, breakfast consisted of cold cuts, bread and tea, identical to the previous night's supper. We were becoming discouraged, to say the least, and began to joke about what to expect for the noon meal which, fortunately, turned out to be the main meal of the day with meat, two vegetables, bread, a small dessert, and tea. But for the following supper and breakfast?: you guessed it!

Oliwa cathedral, constructed of red brick, and showing Dutch influence in its exterior architecture, is equally surprising on the interior. The long and very high nave and chancel are painted white, resulting in an unusually bright interior.

The large, 5-manual organ, dating from the last century, is contained in a dramatic case with spectacular carvings of angels holding gilded horns that can move from side to side, and two cymbelsterns. The instrument has been converted from tracker to electro-pneumatic action, and, in recent years, has been fitted with a solid-state combination action and sequencer, the only instrument we saw in eastern Europe so modernized.

The people of Gdansk are very proud of the Oliwa organ which is demonstrated every afternoon to large crowds including many children who are especially fascinated by the moving golden "trumpets" and the rotating cymbelsterns.

Janice had access to the organ only on the evening before the day of the recital and one hour on the day of the recital. Consequently, she had to take good advantage of her one evening for registration and practice time. As we arrived in the organ loft, we smelled an unusual odor. I thought it might be stale incense, but Janice demurred, saying she had never smelled incense with that "fragrance." I sat in the nave to assist with balance. After about two hours in the organ loft, Janice began to play wrong notes, and complained that she was not thinking well and was becoming dizzy. But she had to try to continue registering her program, which became progressively more difficult. We finally found the source of the odor: an unvented toilet near the organ loft from which sewer gas was escaping in large quantities. By closing the door to this lavatory and by stuffing an old, discarded flag under the door, we largely solved the problem. Unfortunately, by this time Janice was feeling quite ill, but continued to work for several more hours. By noon the following day she felt much better, and by recital time that evening she was, fortunately, back to normal.

Olomouc, Czech Republic

At 4:30 the next morning we were taken to the airport for a 6:30 flight to Prague. We arrived at the Prague airport 30 minutes early, and went directly to the train station to catch a train for Olomouc where Janice was to play a recital in St. Michael's Church. Since we had a two-hour wait, we sat in a park just outside the station and enjoyed people-watching on a beautiful, cool, sunny morning. We had purchased rail tickets in the United States. Consequently, we went directly to the platform to board our train just 15 minutes prior to departure time. The train was destined from Prague to Warsaw, via Olomouc, or so we thought. As we were looking for the coach in which we had reserved seats, I asked a member of the train crew to help us. He looked at our tickets and immediately threw up his hands and waved them back and forth excitedly as if to indicate that we could not go on that train, at the same time speaking to us in Czech which we could not understand. A train for Germany was about to depart on an adjacent track. I was literally pulled over to the conductor of the German train who said, "Der Zug fahrt nicht nach Olomouc. Olomouc liegt unter wasser." I understood, but was perplexed and obviously showed that by my puzzled expression, so the conductor repeated what he had just said, even more emphatically: "That train does not travel to Olomouc. Olomouc lies under water!" The German train left, as did the Czech train, with us standing forlornly on the platform wondering what to do.

During the entire time we had been in Poland, we had not had access to a television set, and had not purchased a paper which, of course, we could not have read. We had, therefore, heard nothing of the severe floods in southern Poland and Moravia. We eventually learned that much of Olomouc, centrally located in Moravia, was literally inundated by the flood waters, there was no electric power, and no hotels and restaurants were operating. We learned also that three railroad bridges between Prague and Olomouc had been destroyed, and thus that there was no rail service from Prague to Olomouc, or for that matter into Slovakia, the site of our next concert. If we had gotten on the train as intended, we would have gone back to Warsaw from which we had flown a few hours earlier.

Fortunately, telephones in Olomouc were still operating. We called our host there, and his wife said he had gone to Prague to meet us. Not expecting him there, we had simply walked out of the terminal without seeing him, or he us. He looked for us at the railroad station, but could not find us because we were sitting outside in the park. We found a hotel near the old city, and the following day our host again drove to Prague which required a long, circuitous route to avoid the flood waters. He thought it still possible that electricity would be restored in time for the recital. He explained the use of the Prague Metro (subway), and showed us the best way to gain accesss to the Karlovy Bridge over the Vlatava (formerly the Moldau) which leads to the Mesto (the old, central city). He also made airline reservations for a flight to Kosice, Slovakia, the nearest airport to Bardejov, our next destination. Unfortunately, the flooding became worse, power was not restored in Olomouc for many days, and the recital there had to be cancelled.

Prague

Although disappointed to miss playing in Olomouc, we were pleased to have four days in the beautiful city of Prague. The following day, after breakfast of cold cuts and yogurt, we set out to see the palace (the site of the Czech government) and St. Vitus Cathedral, nestled together on a high hill overlooking the city. The day was very hot, and we proceeded slowly up the long, steep hill to the palace and St. Vitus cathedral. Although very tired, upon entering the magnificent gothic cathedral, we knew it had been worth the climb. We rested in this stunningly beautiful church and marvelled at the golden glow of the choir and the elegant stained glass windows throughout. We bought some CDs in the Palace shop and walked back down the hill to the Malostranska Metro station. Back at the hotel, we collapsed and slept for several hours before supper, washed some clothes and went to bed.

The following day (Saturday, July 12), after finding an ATM and replenishing our funds, we visited Prague's largest music store where Janice purchased organ music by Czech composers.

Afterward, we found our way to the Mesto, the center of the old city, and what a magnificent area it is with many beautiful churches. Also thousands of tourists. Walking through the narrow streets and across the several squares, we were frequently charmed to see young people dressed in period costumes and to hear the music of Mozart floating across the area heralding a Mozart Festival. Mozart was a frequent visitor to Prague, and his opera, Don Giovanni, received its premiere here in 1787. Near the famous Tyn Church with its distinctive twin towers we had lunch in a quiet restaurant, after which we visited the beautiful baroque church of St. Nicholas across the square.

Bardejov, Slovakia

After a long day, we packed for our flight to Kosice, Slovakia, watched Bill Cosby (speaking Czech) for a few amusing minutes, and retired for the night. We arrived at the Prague Airport terminal about 9:00 a.m., picked up our tickets and were told to look for our flight number on TV monitors to determine the proper check-in desk. By 10:00 a.m. our flight number had not appeared, so becoming concerned, I enquired about the problem at an information desk. We were told to go immediately to one of the "common" check-in counters of which there were seven. All had very long lines, and we were quite apprehensive about getting to the counter in time to catch our flight. Finally, about 10 minutes before flight departure time, we were checked in and made our way as quickly as possible to the designated gate, arriving with very little time to spare.

Upon arrival in Kosice we were met by our host, grandson of Josef Gresak, the Slovak composer who is honored by the Gresak Organ Festival. A former conductor of the Slovak Symphony Orchestra in Kosice, our host now imports and distributes frozen fish. He drove us the 86 kilometers to Bardejov, located in the southern edge of the Carpathian Mountains, and only about 50 kilometers from the Ukrainian border. We thoroughly enjoyed driving through the beautiful, hilly countryside reminiscent of the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains of western Virginia.

In Bardejov we were deposited in a city-owned apartment consisting of a large living room, dining room, kitchen, three bedrooms and a bathroom. This beautiful, modern facility was made even more appealing by having a high-quality stereo sound system plus a collection of CDs and cassette tapes. Before he left, our host, suggesting that we might not have any Slovakian currency, presented us the entire promised honorarium in cash! This very gracious and thoughtful gesture was most surprising, and nothing like it was repeated elsewhere.

Our apartment was conveniently located directly across the street from St. Egidius (St. Giles) Church in which Janice was to play. This gothic building, dating from the 15th century, has a fine organ installed by the Rieger firm of Budapest in 1909. This two-manual instrument of 35 registers has an eastern European style combination action with two "free" combinations and a flat pedal board of 27 keys. The combination action of this instrument differs from those of more recent instruments in having two rows of tabs instead of colored pins by which to set individual stops. These two combinations could be activated by pistons below the lower manual. Of interest to me was the original blower switch, integrated with a huge rheostat by which the voltage was increased to obtain appropriate wind pressure. The wind supply could also be provided by two men pumping a large bellows with their feet.

As in other cities in eastern Europe, ordering food here was a real problem although the one restaurant we patronized had a menu with English translations. Nevertheless, as we soon discovered, we rarely received what we thought we had ordered! By western standards, the cost of prepared food was remarkably low. We could obtain an adequate meal for two for only about $5.00. Breakfast here was a problem, however. The only place we could find open prior to 9:00 a.m. sold only submarine sandwiches, so for three days our breakfasts consisted of submarine sandwiches.

On our first full day in Bardejov Janice worked out registrations in the morning and practiced for three hours in the afternoon. We then bought a bottle of very good Hungarian red wine, some peanuts and pretzels, had a little party before dinner and went to bed early. The following day, after practice in the morning and a long nap in the afternoon, we arrived for the 8:00 p.m. recital about 7:45. As we approached the open church door we could hear none of the expected sounds of people on the interior, and were thus shocked upon entering to find a packed church, but not a sound from the audience, not even a cough. We tip-toed up to the organ loft and began the recital throughout which there was deathly silence from the audience, almost as if the people could not speak. This eerie quiet was, to say the least, somewhat disconcerting, and I hoped that Janice was not playing to an audience of deaf mutes. At the end of the program, following the Bach St. Anne Fugue, there was still no sound for a few seconds, then enthusiastic applause. As the audience departed there was still no talking in the church. To this remarkable audience in Bardejov, the church was, apparently, a sacred place, one in which to meditate, and to hear great music without the distraction of gossip or chit-chat about mundane secular events.

Bury St. Edmunds

Wednesday, July 16: we arose at 6:30 a.m., ate a submarine sandwich for breakfast, packed and were ready to leave for London at 9:30. We were driven to Kosice where we were hosted by members of the Slovak Symphony Orchestra adminstrative staff, one of whom took us to lunch and showed us beautiful St. Elizabeth's Cathedral. We left Kosice at 4:10 p.m., changed planes in Prague and arrived in London about 8:00. Getting through the immigration maze at Heathrow airport was a nightmare, with thousands of people in long queues. When finally we made it through immigration, found our luggage, and left the terminal building, it was nearly dark. Our taxi arrived 30 minutes later and delivered us, totally exhausted, to our B & B in Windsor about 10:00 p.m.

The next day we were up by 7:00 a.m., had a good English breakfast, and left Windsor on the 9:40 for London, Waterloo Station. We went by taxi to Liverpool Street Station, grabbed some sandwiches for lunch and took the 12:00 noon train to Ipswich, changing there to the 1:55 to Bury St. Edmunds, arriving at 2:30.

In Bury we stayed at the Chantry Hotel, a very nice accommodation with moderate rates that included breakfast. Since Janice had played a recital in St. Edmundsbury Cathedral in 1995, we were familiar with the town, and a lovely town it is. We met our host in the cathedral after choir practice and worked on the instrument until 11:30 p.m. On the following day, we browsed in the cathedral shop and enjoyed perusing their book collection by which we learned something about St. Edmunds and the ancient Abbey, the ruins of which are adjacent to the cathedral. The Abbey dating from the 700s, which was sacked and destroyed in the 1500s, was larger than the present cathedral. We also visited beautiful St. Mary's Church which is the largest Parish Church in the United Kingdom, almost as large as the cathedral. Although somewhat off the beaten path, Bury St. Edmunds is a lovely and interesting town very much worth a visit.

Practice in the evening was interesting, but not entirely productive. The cathedral organist and a priest heard Janice practicing Pamela Decker's piece, Kairos, and were so impressed with the work that they ascended to the organ loft to ask about it. In addition to Kairos, Janice played for them some of Dan Locklair's suite, Rubrics, about which they were also very enthusiastic. We found most interesting their expressions of dismay that they had such difficulty learning about new American compositions for organ. Because of this pleasant "interruption" Janice practiced until 12:30 a.m.

Saturday, July 19: Following the 4:00 p.m. recital, we walked to the nearby Angel Hotel bar to celebrate. We ordered Manhattans, and after carefully explaining to the bartender how to make them, we enjoyed two delicious American-style cocktails made with (very expensive) Kentucky bourbon. Later we were joined for dinner by the cathedral organist and his friend who we learned is one of only two female organ scholars in the English cathedral system.

All Saints Collegiate Church, Maidstone

The following day, Sunday, July 20, we caught a morning train to Cambridge, changing there to a train for London, King's Cross; we then went by Underground to Victoria Station where we arrived just 7 minutes prior to departure at 1:22 for Maidstone. Arriving in Maidstone at 2:25, we were met by a warden of All Saint's Church who took us to the church, showed us how to turn on the organ, took us to tea, and finally deposited us in our very nice B & B. After resting for two hours, we walked back into the center of town, had supper and went to the church for practice from 7:30 until 10:30 p.m.

All Saints Collegiate Church, Maidstone, dating from the 13th century, is very handsome, and provides a wonderful acoustical environment for organ music. Unfortunately, the organ console has only preset divisional pistons, and no generals. Although Janice had planned originally to play "Communion" and "Sortie" from the Messiaen Pentecost Mass she realized that it would be impossible to give them meaningful performances on this instrument, so she decided to replace them with several short works by Vierne.

On July 22, following supper of sandwiches and tea provided by our landlady, we dressed for the recital. The taxi was expected at 7:30. When, by 7:40, it had not arrived we called again, and another taxi finally arrived, about 7:50. By this time we were pretty tense. We arrived at the church at 7:56. The concert started, on time, at 8:00 p.m.!

Since Janice's next recital, in Westminster Abbey, was not until the 27th, we decided to stay in Maidstone until Saturday. This 3-day respite was much needed and most enjoyable. On Wednesday, we found a laundromat, Janice had her hair cut, and we took a short, pleasant cruise on the Medway river. The Medway is navigable through several locks from the English Channel to London by way of the Thames. We passed several Dutch barges on the river and others anchored alongside wharves in Maidstone, all bedecked with flowers in hanging baskets, making a beautiful sight.

On Thursday, we went by train to Canterbury to see the famous cathedral, home of the Archbishop, head of the Anglican Church. Canterbury is a very attractive town, but on this day in July it was overrun by tourists. Like most other British cathedrals the nave and choir of Canterbury are separated by a dense "screen," and at Canterbury the nave, choir and Trinity Chapel are on successively higher levels. The organ console is out of sight on top of the screen, and the Father Willis organ in the triforium is nearly invisible.

Of the many works of art, plaques, and other memorabilia in the cathedral, one plaque was especially meaningful for us. It bore the following message: "Remember the thousands of the combined allied forces who lost their lives during the invasion of western Europe on the 6th of June 1944. The assault on Normandy was launched at Sword, Juno, Gold, Omaha & Utah beaches. Thus began the return of freedom to Europe. Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends."

One of our most enjoyable days in Britain was spent at Leeds Castle, just a few miles east of Maidstone which we reached by bus on Friday. One of the most famous and certainly one of the most beautiful of all English castles, with magnificent grounds and gardens, Leeds Castle was the home of kings and queens, including Henry the Eighth as well as Lord Culpepper who was governor of Virginia and Lord Fairfax who owned 150,000 acres of land in Virginia prior to the Revolution. It is no surprise that the town of Culpepper, and Fairfax County, Virginia were named for these illustrious early residents of the state. This Virginia connection with Leeds Castle was of particular interest to us since both Janice and I are Virginians by birth.

The castle was an early site of negotiations between Egypt and Israel that led to the Camp David Accords and the beginning of the on-going peace negotiations between Israel and the Arab nations of the Middle East.

Westminster Abbey

Saturday, 26 July: Today we travelled to London for the last recital of the tour, in Westminster Abbey. We left Maidstone by train at 10:00 a.m. and arrived in Victoria Station at 11:00. We took a taxi to Hotel 176 on Old Brompton Road in South Kensington. We were shocked to learn that there was no room reserved for us although the hotel had a record of our credit card number, and we had a fax confirming our reservation. The desk clerk was most apologetic, but re-iterated that there were no rooms available. Fortunately, the Swiss House Hotel, next door, had one double room available which we were delighted to take.

After a long nap in the afternoon, we went by Underground to Westminster Abbey for practice at 5:45. We found the organ scholar without difficulty who escorted us to the organ loft atop the screen separating the nave from the choir and showed us the organ console.

The Harrison and Harrison organ, installed in 1937, includes some re-voiced pipes from an earlier Hill organ. The instrument was restored and enlarged in 1982 and 1987 with the addition of a new console. In 1994 the combination action was expanded with the addition of a sequencer.

The five-manual console by Harrison and Harrison has several unusual features. There is a separate setter button for every general and every divisional piston. Unlike other English organs which Janice had played, the general pistons are not above the top manual, but below the manual for the solo division. Since the setter buttons for the general pistons are above the top manual, Janice had to be very careful not to push a setter button when she intended to push a general piston! We worked for the allotted 21/2 hours and made our way back to our hotel, very tired and went immediately to bed.

After sleeping late on Sunday, and a long nap in the afternoon, at about 4:00 we went to the nearby Gloucester Road Underground station to catch a train for the Abbey. Unfortunately the only reasonable route was not available because of work on the line. After deciding we did not have time to take a round-about route to the Abbey, we hailed a taxi and arrived just 15 minutes prior to recital time. We were relieved to observe that all tourists, except those who were seated for the recital, had been removed from the church; how this was accomplished we do not know. Two minutes prior to recital time, the Organist and Master of the Choristers arrived to greet us--a gracious gesture on his part, but not the most opportune time for the recitalist!

Following the recital, the sub-organist and several other organists in attendance, rushed up to the organ loft to ask about the contemporary American works on the program. As at St. Edmundsbury they were very interested in both Kairos and Rubrics.

After a pleasant dinner with friends who were in the London area on vacation, we packed for our return trip to Ann Arbor. Our flight from Gatwick to Detroit Metropolitan Airport was uneventful, and it was wonderful to be met by our daughters. It is always good to return home after a trip, but after having been away for nearly five weeks, homecoming this time was an unusual pleasure.

Current Issue