Carillon News

Kansas Congress Report

In the spring of 1854 the Massachusetts legislature chartered the New England Emigrant Aid Company, whose mission was to promote the settlement of Kansas by people who opposed slavery. Among the towns founded under its direction was Lawrence, and it was there that the University of Kansas was established. Central to its lovely campus, located on Mount Oread, is the World War II Memorial Campanile with its carillon.

Hosted by University Carillonneur Albert Gerken and the University's Department of Music and Dance, 132 individuals participated in the 55th Congress of the Guild of Carillonneurs in North America, June 3-7, 1997, which celebrated the instrument's restoration and with it the lives and contributions of four individuals whose careers as composers are inextricably linked to the carillon and to the University. Honored were Ronald Barnes, Roy Hamlin Johnson, John Pozdro and Gary White, who took inspiration from the magnificent Taylor carillon and contributed to the profession beyond words. Through recitals and presentations, the delegates, representing Australia, Belgium, Canada, England, The Netherlands and The United States of America, witnessed in glorious measure the significance of those contributions and of the instrument that inspired them.

John Gouwens played the opening recital, which included two compositions commissioned by the GCNA: Figments (1982) by Gary White, and Easter Dawning (1992) by George Crumb. Albert Gerken, like Gouwens, featured each of the four composers being honored, and premiered two works: Roy Hamlin Johnson's Winter Fanfares (1996), commissioned by the Department of Music and Dance and dedicated to Gerken, and Winds of Autumn, by John Pozdro. Other recitalists were Robert Byrnes, Don Cook, Bill De Turk, David Hunsberger, Karel Keldermans, Brian Swager, and Sally Slade Warner.

Six individuals were accorded Carillonneur status by vote of the Guild after playing successful examination recitals: Elaine Brewer, a Lawrence, Kansas freelance harpist; Helen Hawley, Organist/Choir Director at Plymouth Congregational Church, Lawrence; Rosemary Laing of Victoria, British Columbia, who is Carillonneur of the Netherlands Centennial Carillon, Organist at First Church of Christ, Scientist, and Music Specialist at the University of Victoria; Patrick Macoska, Organist/Choirmaster at St. Mary's of Redford, Detroit, Michigan; Suzanne Magassy, Carillonneur at the National Carillon, Canberra, Australia, and the only person outside of North America  to have become a Carillonneur member of the GCNA; and Gloria Werblow, Carillonneur at the Rainbow Tower Carillon, Niagara Falls, Ontario, and Carillonneur/Handbell Director at Calvary Episcopal Church, Williamsville, New York.

Presentations were enlightening and enjoyable. Mark Holmberg provided a historical overview of the KU carillon. Don Cook conducted a presentation/discussion on carillon music that meets pedagogical needs. Karel Keldermans described Gillett and Johnston's impact on carillon design in North America, focusing on the Rockefeller Chapel instrument at the University of Chicago. Brian Swager continued his description, begun in a Cohasset presentation, of baroque performance practice for carillonneurs, while Bill De Turk, anticipating his own recital, discussed the work of Samuel Barber, Gian-Carlo Menotti and Nino Rota while composers-in-residence at Bok Tower. In a session on Russian campanology, Edward Williams reviewed some of the more spectacular projects of Russian bellfounders.

George Gregory, joined in performance by Guild volunteers and KU music faculty, demonstrated the use of cup-shaped bells. John Pozdro led a session on composing, Andrea McCrady offered suggestions on how to play the carillon so as to avoid injury, and Roy Hamlin Johnson recalled his early efforts to learn how to compose for the carillon. Two new instruments were highlighted in illustrated presentations:  Margo Halsted introduced the Lurie Carillon, located on the north campus of the University of Michigan, Ann Arbor; and Beverly Buchanan described the Carillon Beach instrument, located at Panama City, Florida. Milford Myhre and Ronald Barnes gave a master class. There were tours of the Reuter Organ Company, and two KU students performed on the recently completed Wolff organ in the new Bales Recital Hall. John Agraz, Arla Jo Anderton, and John Courter were elected board members at-large.

Meeks and Watson hosted a welcoming reception, and Schulmerich hosted a closing ice cream social at the Campanile. The John Taylor Bellfounders hosted a candlelight buffet at the Dyche Natural History Museum. The Verdin Company hosted the annual pizza party at historic Liberty Hall, with entertainment by the Chuck Berg Quartet. The Royal Eijsbouts Bellfounders hosted the Congress banquet at KU's Adams Alumni Center, after which Bert Gerken formally introduced and thanked Ron Barnes, Roy Johnson, John Pozdro, and Gary White.

Profile: University of Kansas

The World War II Memorial Carillon and Campanile, inspired by the memories of classmates, teachers, friends, and relatives, stands as the most outstanding visual symbol of the University of Kansas.

In 1945, Kansas Supreme Court Justice Hugo T. "Dutch" Wedell, secretary of the Kansas Alumni Association Fred Ellsworth, Chancellor Deane W. Malott, and their tireless volunteers began a campaign which would raise $343,000 from 8,000 individuals to build KU's memorial to its war dead, the 276 students and faculty whose names appear in the Memorial Room of the Campanile, and to additional individuals in whose memory bells and donations were given. Through many people's efforts, the World War II Memorial Carillon and Campanile was constructed. The Belgian Anton Brees, then carillonneur at Lake Wales, Florida, and Duke University, played the dedicatory recital to over 7000 listeners on May 27, 1951. Thus, KU became one of the first universities in the nation to complete a major World War II memorial. An inscription in the Memorial Room at the base of the tower reads: "Free government does not bestow repose upon its citizens, but sets them in the vanguard of battle to defend the liberty of every man."

The Campanile is 120 feet tall and made of native Kansas limestone quarried in Cottonwood Falls and Junction City. It was inspired by a plan by Olin Templin and designed by Kansas City architects Homer F. Neville (class of '22) and Edward B. Delk. The fifty-three bronze bells were cast by the John Taylor Foundry in 1950 and range in weight from 12 pounds to 13,490 pounds. The bourdon is keyed to G and sounds F-sharp. Frank Godfrey supervised the design, casting, and installation of the KU bells.

State of Kansas funds provided for maintenance of the Campanile structure itself, but there was never a maintenance fund for the musical instrument inside. Because the carillon received only minimal maintenance after the day of its dedication in 1951, use and time took their toll. By 1991 the carillon had fallen into disrepair, with no funds available for restoration. Deterioration was so extensive that the cost for repair had risen to $425,000. It needed new playing and practice consoles, new bell clappers and hardware, an entire new mechanical action, and a bell frame.

Fortunately for the beloved campus landmark and everyone who cherished it, Keith and Joan Bunnel, of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, contributed the entire $425,000, because they cared deeply about the carillon and those to whom it was dedicated.

The bells were silenced in 1993 to begin renovation. The Verdin Company of Cincinnati performed the work, and the new consoles were supplied by Meeks, Watson, & Company. That same year, former Chancellor Deane Malott of Ithaca, New York, agreed to lead a campaign to establish a $200,000 endowed maintenance fund that will provide annual inspection and upkeep of the carillon, in order to avoid the same deterioration that occurred in the first forty years. With Malott's leadership and the inspiration of the Keith and Joan Bunnel gift, nearly one thousand alumni responded to the call, exceeding the campaign's goal and ensuring that the KU carillon remains in perfect condition forevermore.

Ronald Barnes was University Carillonneur from 1951 to 1963 during which period the instrument was influential in the development of a North American school of carillon composition. Primary in this movement were KU composers Roy Hamlin Johnson, John Pozdro, and Gary White.

The University Carillonneur since 1963 has been Professor Albert Gerken of the KU Department of Music and Dance in the School of Fine Arts. Gerken supervised the entire carillon renovation and played the rededication on April 26, 1996.

Jason Overall works with the pipe organ builder Goulding & Wood, Inc., in tonal design and project development. He graduated from Furman University of Greenville, South Carolina with a degree in music theory, studying organ with Charles Tompkins and composition with Mark Kilstofte. From there he went on to study composition with John Boda at Florida State University, also studying organ with Michael Corzine. In addition to his work with Goulding & Wood, Mr. Overall is an active church musician in the Episcopal Diocese of Indianapolis.

Robert J. Powell is one of the most recognized names in contemporary church music. He has a countless number of publications in every genre and has led sessions in conferences across the country. Since 1968, Mr. Powell has been organist-choirmaster at Christ Church, Greenville, one of South Carolina's oldest and largest Episcopal churches. During his nearly thirty-five year tenure, Mr. Powell has taken the program from a single children's choir that led the 9:00 am Morning Prayer service to a comprehensive array of adult and children choirs, instrumental ensembles and a thriving concert series. Prior to his position at Christ Church, Robert Powell served the Cathedral of Saint John the Divine, New York as assistant organist and Saint Paul's Episcopal Church, Meridian, Mississippi as organist-choirmaster. Yet it is his compositions that have done the most to secure his reputation.

Mr. Powell has written well over 1,000 anthems and service music for the Episcopal church. His setting of the Gloria in excelsis is thought to be "The One True Gloria" by many people in the pew. Nearly every church musician has come to rely on the dependable, accessible music of Robert Powell, and with such an encyclopedic output, it is easy to find the perfect piece for even the most difficult situations.

If Bob's reputation is earned through his composition, it is his generosity of spirit that most touches those who know him. His warmth and genuine Christian spirit provide the basis of his career, his music-making and his composition. In his music, Bob weaves together a sensitive spirituality, no-nonsense practicality and a liberal dose of good humor.

At the end of 2002, Mr. Powell will retire from Christ Church, leaving behind a flourishing music program. He makes it clear, however, that he isn't retiring. Bob says that he is looking forward to spending even more time composing and the opportunity to try his hand at substitute playing.  In May, I was able to ask Bob about his career and experiences. Following is a portion of our conversation.

Who are some of the composers or teachers that inspired you?

Well, of course Alec Wyton was my mentor and he always encouraged me. He is a wonderful person, and he was always a great inspiration. In fact, when Abingdon Press was first starting their music publishing business, they asked Alec to send them an anthem. He said he didn't want to at that time, but that he had a young student--meaning me--that would send them one, and I did. They took "Ancient of Days" or some anthem that's out of print, so I sent them another. Pretty soon I sent them twelve at once, and they took about ten of them. Finally Earl Copes, who was one of the editors at that time, called up and asked, "How fast does (and he named an anthem) go?" By that time I had written fifteen others, and I didn't even remember it. He had to sing to me over the phone to show me how it goes. I never put [tempo markings] on pieces because speeds don't mean anything to me. I don't play the same speed anyway each time. If you ever see a piece of mine with a metronome indication, it is usually because publishers want it.

Who else besides Alec Wyton?

This will be a surprise: I came up in rural Mississippi playing in what was called a Union church. That is, it was Baptist two Sundays a month and Presbyterian, which I was, one Sunday a month, and Methodist the other Sunday with circuit riding preachers. It was wonderful, and of course all of the congregation came to all of the services, whether it was Baptist or Presbyterian or whatever. So I came up playing the Sunday School piano, like everybody does, it seems. They bought a Hammond organ and said "You can play the thing: it's got a keyboard!" I'd been taking piano lessons, but I said, "I can't play this thing." So I went to a town near us, Greenville, Mississippi, and found an organ teacher. He played at St. James Episcopal on an old two-manual Estey, and I learned how to play on that. He was a wonderful person who was also a band director and a good organist. His name was Walter E. Parks. I would go in for my organ lesson and do the usual things: Eight Little Preludes and Fugues and all of that. Then he'd say, "Now it's time for our composition lesson." And for the same price I'd have another three hours. We did Preston Ware Orem's book and the Prout books, the Percy Goetschius book of composition. It was wonderful fun for me. He was a great influence.

Did you keep up with him?

He died at the keyboard after I left high school. I went to Louisiana State University, and I ended up with Frank Page, the organist at the Catholic student center and a great teacher. He would give us assignments, like harmonize a melody, and I would transpose it and harmonize it six different ways. I was ambitious in those days--you learn not to be after a while, I guess--but it was fun. I studied composition and organ at the school and got degrees in both of them, then I went off to the Army. I went to Atlanta first and was a junior choir director: my first experience with a junior choir. My hometown church didn't have a choir of any kind. In fact, the first choir of any kind that I ever heard was the LSU concert choir. In the army, [I was stationed] first in Atlanta, then in Japan, which was a wonderful experience. The Korean conflict was over then, and I had a choir of Japanese women who worked at the Army base and American soldiers, which sang for chapel services. It was a great experience in choir training. As far as other people who have influenced me? Publishers particularly have encouraged me; I could just go down the line. All of them are encouraging, and of course that doesn't mean they take everything you send them. I'm used to rejections, because obviously everybody can't publish every piece. I understand that. Usually if an anthem is rejected twenty-two times or so, I change it into an organ piece and send it somewhere else. So you get organ pieces out of anthems sometimes. I try to recycle things.

Who are some composers you enjoy listening to?

Amazingly enough, right at the moment I'm on a Dvorak kick. I think Dvorak was a great composer--underrated in a lot of ways. Mahler I have trouble with. Of course there's Bach. My old saying used to be "there are two categories of organ music: all the music that Bach wrote for organ and all the music that everyone else wrote for organ." Bach is always an influence, but you have to be careful with Bach because you can copy him easily and end up sounding like bad Bach. I try to listen to a variety of things, to check out all styles. I try just to sit there and listen and not do too much. I try to keep a balance. You can't do music all the time. I never take music with me on a trip or a vacation. I do not take any manuscript paper. I do not think about it.

When you're not on vacation, do you have set times for composing?

I try to get writing at about 9:00 and I go until about 11:00. Then I go out and have coffee with friends, come back around 2:00 and work a couple of hours, and that's it.

Do you compose four hours every day?

Well, it's like practicing. You lose it if you don't do it. I used to have a good time writing for junior choir when I had a junior choir to work with. Now it's difficult to write for junior choir. I do as well as I can with it, but it was much easier when I actually had one, even though we weren't singing my music, because you know what they can do. It's easy to write for SATB choir when you have one. It's more difficult when you don't. You're in a vacuum writing away.

What criteria do you look for in a text that you want to set?

It has to say something to the people who are going to be singing it and hearing it. If it's a regular anthem, something that rhymes well and makes good sense when it rhymes, and if it's a classical text, something I think I can set, I think that's basic. Also if it has some little dramatic thing in it like They Cast their Nets in Galilee, you can always make a little [motive] out of "nets." "Glory" is always a great word for me to use--"glorious" or something like that--because you can always make it soar out. So the text is very important in writing church music.

Although you have always been involved with the Episcopal Church, you've only done a couple of [settings of the] Magnificat and Nunc dimittis, one Jubilate Deo and of course the things that are in the hymnal. Was it a conscious decision to not write more canticles?

Not a conscious decision. I found that when I first started sending these canticles like "O be joyful" (the Jubilate Deo) or the Benedictus est, there were already many in the catalogs, and most of the publishers simply didn't want another one. How many "O be joyful"s can Concordia have after all?

Have you ever consciously tried to develop a Bob Powell style or a sound?

Heavens, no. I consciously try to make sounds like what the particular publishers publish. Obviously I wouldn't send a Concordia-type piece to a publisher that's used to publishing renewal music. So I have to study other composers' [pieces]--read them through and throw them away so I wouldn't be copying them, but just to get the general style of the music for a particular publisher. Also, I subscribe to a lot of these choral packets so I can see what Augsburg and Concordia or whoever is publishing, and I would write something like that.

With both the texts and with style, it seems like a very practical approach.

Yes, I write for small choirs, as you probably gathered. Choirs of twenty-five because that's what most choirs are. When you come right down to it, most choirs are not of Cathedral ability or size. I just can't write for fifty voices. I don't think in that way.

What about beyond that? Bach and Telemann and composers of their ilk weren't necessarily writing pieces that they thought would last for all eternity. They were writing music for next Sunday. Whereas people like Brahms and Beethoven were writing pieces that they intended to be around for a while.

No, I'm more on the Bach line. I know they're not going to be around forever. They'll be in print five years if you're lucky. If they don't sell, they don't sell. Then the publisher will put them out of print because they have to pay taxes on them whether they sell them or not. My pieces are all practical things and useful for specific occasions. Peace I Give to You, the Paraclete publication, is a Maundy Thursday text. I think the rector [at Christ Church] asked me to write something that we could use on Maundy Thursday, so I wrote that. Of course there are a few commissions here and there, and they want this, that and the other thing. So I say, "Sure, I'll do that." I don't know how to say no. I'm going to learn by the time I'm seventy-five. I might say no, but right now if anybody asks me to do anything I'd be glad to do it. It's fun.

How much lead time do you require to have something ready?

To write a piece? The Suite for American Folk Tunes was written in two weeks for Austin Lovelace. He said he needed something for organ and brass, and would I write him something. That was lucky. Sometimes it takes a month. The organ duet went along about six months.

What about a typical anthem?

A typical anthem is a week. I do like Searle Wright used to suggest. Just put it down quickly: everything that comes into your mind, put it down. You can always go back and fix it later.

How much editing do you do?

Very little. [laughs] Once it's in the ground there is very little revision made. It's not like Mozart where I hear it in my mind. I just keep improvising on the piano until it comes. I think John Ferguson said something like that--that you keep hitting away until it sounds right to you. And when it sounds right to you, then you go on to the next measure.

So you always compose at the piano?

Almost always. Sometimes at the organ. It's more difficult to compose organ pieces at the organ for me. It's easier to do it at the piano. All the choral pieces are done at the piano. Other people go out to the middle of a lake on a boat and write a piece, but I can't do that.

When you write organ pieces, do you ever . . .

Do I ever think of timbres? Not really. I hear a flute maybe once in a while, and maybe a reed here and there. But I never hear a timbre particularly, because it's all the notes. That's the important thing to me: the notes themselves, not the sounds. I leave it to good interpreters to decide what to make it do. They make it sound right. A good interpreter is really re-creating the music. The person that interprets it is like a composer. In fact, Walter Erich pays the same amount of royalty if you arrange a piece as if you write a piece, because an arranger is just as important as a writer and sometimes more important than the writer of the piece.

So in your view, a sensitive performer can be an arranger.

That's exactly right. I don't want them to change the notes, although, my notes are not written in stone. I have no problem with people who change a note here or there. They say, "Did you mean this?" I will usually say, "What do you want? What sounds good to you?" And they'll say whatever it is and I'll say, "That sounds good to me too, so let's just put it down." Everything is flexible in this world. That's because I'm a parish organist, and you've got to make concessions.

What is the typical process you go through in writing an anthem?

The first process is to find some kind of text. That's basic. Richard Rodgers did that, and I feel good about that. Richard Rodgers didn't think of "Oh! What a Beautiful Morning" without having the text in front of him. Then the second thing is how are you going to divide the text--will you divide it into verses, will it be a long piece that you'll have to divide into some kind of sections? You have to have breathing points, and you have to figure out where the poet meant it to come to the end of an idea. Next process is to see if the first line gives you any inspiration. Does that phrase give you a tune in mind? Then you get your tune and you have your first inspiration and then it goes from there. Then bang away, and after a while it begins to sound right and take shape. I usually write the middle part first then add the introduction after I've written everything else, because you have something to draw from then. I try to avoid clichés. It's so easy to get clichés when anthem writing, particularly in concertato writing. You just do the same thing: there's going to be brass playing an introduction and everybody's going to sing unison, then the second verse is going to be different, and the third verse will be a harmonized verse for the choir, and the last verse will be unison-descant-plus-coda. I try to avoid doing that. One great anthem is Harold Darke's Christmas anthem "In the Bleak Midwinter" which is a hymn anthem, but it's very cleverly done because you don't have this four-verses-of-the-same-thing. Each verse is very different from the others. To me it's a very good hymn anthem.

What is the balance between inspiration and craft in your composition?

Inspiration--that's a hard question. I think Rutter said at one of those conferences that once you get the first idea, the rest of it is easy. Which is quite true, but it's a whole lot better if you have a good first idea. The inspiration is the first thing you get--the first idea. If you're going to write a pastorale and you get a little pastorale theme--a measure or so, a motive--then that's the inspiration part. Then the rest of it is craftsmanship. Well, of course, all of it is inspiration, but the rest of it is extension of the idea.

I think it was Schoenberg that said composition is 5% inspiration and 95% perspiration.

That's right. Exactly.

But do you feel that the first idea is always inspired? Or do you feel like you can craft a good motive?

Oh, I think it has to be a certain amount of inspiration. It comes from God, I believe. I have no idea where these ideas come from. If I had some great well that I could put my hand in and draw one out, I'd do it. But it just comes. And sometimes you sit down at the keyboard and you say, "Okay, I'm going to be inspired now." And I wait for inspiration to come, and it does not come. I think Austin Lovelace said once that this stuff cycles. Sometimes you can really hit it right off and other times you sit there for a day or two or a week and you have no idea--no ideas. It's funny.

Do you ever receive inspiration unexpectedly? The cliché is waking up in the middle of the night with this great idea that you have to write down, but perhaps also when you are driving around town or,

[interrupting] No. Well, actually that's true. I have driven around town and gotten a good inspiration, with the radio off, of course. Sometimes driving from home to work you can get an idea and then you go in and put it down. Sometimes you play a service, and services are really quite inspiring in more ways than is normally thought. Sometimes you get an idea in the service, and I used to write them down after the service was over, at least a snippet of it. For a while I recorded some of them then tried to transcribe it, which is difficult. I like to play church services because I don't get nervous there. You have to keep going. You can't go backwards. Improvisations often turn into real pieces. I think that happened with lots of composers, not just me.

I remember coming over from Furman [University] to hear your service playing because it's so excellent. As you hear other church musicians play services--and struggle through services--do you have advice to share?

Well, in the first place I would say that relationships should be the first priority. Relationships are so important. After all the staff meetings and all the going to music conferences and all the practicing and all the choir training and all the other things, in the end the most important thing in all are the relationships. There are two ways of presenting God's word. One of them is by what the priest and the liturgy says. But equal to me is what the music says. It is an equal partner in proclaiming the word. It's another way of proclaiming Christ's gospel. Secondly, lots of people play too slowly for the church itself. Obviously if you are in a resonant building you have to play more slowly, but most churches are not resonant buildings. Some don't give the congregation a chance to breathe. Alec Wyton taught me a great thing: he said you must play with the text. So I was taught by him to play by the text itself no matter what the music does. Although I remember bad occasions when I've not done that. At St. John the Divine, when I was assistant there, [I played] 13 verses of "O come, O come Emmanuel" until people started looking at me wondering when I was going to quit. I had lost my place and wasn't playing by the text. So I learned the hard way. The other advice I have is to give the same amount of time between the verses each time. I also never ritard until the end of the last verse. I think if you ritard at the end of the introduction, you confuse the congregation. They don't know what speed it's really supposed to be.

What about larger issues in service playing? What about pacing the service, planning your registrations?

You have to be like you're on television. You have to be right with it right away. There are two [issues] there: you have to be with it when you're supposed to be with it and not have a grand pause while everybody looks for things or while you look for music, and people in general don't understand that silence is a part of music. A quarter rest is a beat of silence for example. And there are times in the services when there should be silence and not music. Silence is music in a sense.

Do you feel like there is a particular liturgical aspect that some weeks could be silent and other weeks could be musical? Or are there some times which should always be silent?

Depending on the service itself, I think there should be some moment of silence. Particularly in preludes that people play for funeral services when they want continual music or in a communion service where they want continual music. I don't want continual music in a communion service. If I were playing four pieces, there wouldn't be a modulation between numbers 1 and 2 or 3 and 4. I play one piece and put it down. You want to give people's ears a chance to breathe even though they're not singing. It comes back to participation. Participation does not always mean that people have to be yelling at the top of their voices. One form of participation is when we are all singing "Praise, my soul, the King of Heaven" and are just having a great time. We are participating--great. But if an organist is playing a great organ piece, like Bach, and we are all into it, we are also participating even though we are just sitting there. That's a form of participation.

That's something that in the liturgical world seems to divide the Roman church, which emphasizes active participation, and the Anglican world, with what you are talking about.

Yes, that's right. With Evensong, the congregation is not singing all the time, but they are involved in all kinds of ways: emotionally, spiritually we hope--every kind of way. And that's the point of these kinds of services to me anyway. That's a very difficult concept for many people. They only feel like if they are singing that they are participating in music making.

Are there ways musicians can foster that sense of visceral participation?

If they have a chance to write a little article in the bulletin or newsletter, that's always helpful. Tell it to the choir; tell it to the clergy.  The clergy listen and if they understand, the whole church ends up understanding.

How do you approach polishing a choir or your own playing but avoid it being a performance?

Automatically when the choir sings it's a performance of a sort. And of course you want the best; we all want the best of every kind of music. Every presentation of a choir or organist is a performance by the very nature of what it is, and you want it as perfect as possible. I'm not sure there is any sort of a thing as perfection in this world in this way, but anyway you want it as perfect as possible. Then you've got a good performance. But does it relate to the what's going on with the rest of the service or is it just a performance? You have to be very careful that it relates textually and that it creates the right ambiance. You must be a team player and not isolated. That's what I mean by relationships. You are related to the people who are in the service, the congregation, the clergy. You are related to proclaiming the gospel, and you are not just doing a little performance somewhere. This isn't something you can just slop around. You have to do it quite well. And hope for the best. Pray a lot.

If it is a performance, it sounds like Søren Kierkegard's idea that in a service the musicians and the clergy are just the prompters, the congregation are really the actors and the audience . . .

The audience is God. God is the audience and so you want to make sure that you do as well as you can to please God. And the congregation is involved in it too. When an anthem is sung or an organ piece is played, everybody in the church building is involved in some way. As long as you think of being involved with them and them being involved with you, then what you're doing is proclaiming God's and Christ's gospel. Then you're not doing performances. You are helping along their spiritual worship. Which is why choosing anthems is so important.

How much of your time throughout the year will be spent choosing anthems?

In my best days, I spent a long time and looked at a lot of pieces. Not only as a composer but to see what we could use--that's what I'm paid for. And it goes throughout the year. I'm kind of like the publishers in that in July I should have my Christmas music ready and at Christmas I should be at least beyond Easter, so you are always ahead of the game. You are never living in the present; you are always sort of living in the future in this business. That way if you're going to have brass you can get it arranged. You don't have to sort it out the last week, and they are out there with their stands open and no music on them.

How would you describe your technique for improvisation, and how do you prepare your improvisations for a Sunday service?

If I'm going to improvise a prelude, now this is a strange technique, I take the hymn book upside down, and the bass becomes a soprano part and improvise on that. Other times I take a part of the tune and change the keys and go into different sequences of that just like every hymn prelude you've ever seen: you do your introduction, you do your tune, you do your tune with echoes in between. There are hundreds of techniques. You just try to keep a little form so you don't keep splatting away. You just have to study books by Gerre Hancock, David Cherwien and others.

Do you consciously have to rein in your counterpoint to make sure your voice leading is good, or do you now find that natural?

I don't think about counterpoint or harmony or any other thing. The notes will lead you to another place. So you go down another path. That's the fun thing about improvisation: where the notes will lead you. As you're going along, you think, "I've got this note," you don't think, "This is B-flat and it's going to go to so and so." The note itself, the chords and the notes just kind of lead you to the next thing so you don't have to. And that's where form becomes very important, because then you don't just go wandering off anywhere. What you actually want to do is get back home sooner or later.

In your longer improvisations, is it common for you to do free improvisation not on a hymn tune?

Of course, I'll do that. You have to be sure in a longer one that you contrast things: soft and loud, fast and slow, high and low. That kind of contrast is very important. I remember I [played a service] once in Columbia, and they had an electronic organ there that only had two sounds: loud and soft. It was a long procession with all the priests in the whole Southeast it seemed like. It went on for about twenty or thirty minutes, dealing with this organ which only had loud and soft. That's all it was. And finally you get to just playing chords because you just run out of . . . [shudders]. It was one of those horrible experiences. I was glad when it was over.

In both improvisation and in composition, do you find it difficult to come up with interesting textures?

For me it is sometimes difficult to come up with interesting textures. Sometimes you have to use things that you would normally not find in a piece written for organ by Franck or somebody. Use the Vox humana not like a Vox humana is usually used, but like a snarly something. I'm pretty conservative, I'm afraid. I use strings and flutes and diapasons in a kind of normal way, but every once in a while I try to break out of it. High and low is important. Most of us play in the middle of the keyboard all of the time. Those Thalben-Ball preludes have a lot in the high register and in the low register. Obviously he was dealing with what I'm struggling with. Of course you want to use the tune in the tenor or in the bass rather than always in the soprano, and have little frills around it.

Is there anything else you want to say?

Well, I just hope we continue to get a bunch of great young organists coming along who are going to go into church music and who work as well as they can in choosing music. When you choose music you want the very best of every kind, whether it is renewal or not renewal or classical or not classical. You don't want to choose second-rate anything. As I said in a 1967 interview I was re-reading the other day, I don't think there is really any one style of church music. I certainly don't think in this day and age that there is any "Episcopal" church music as there was twenty years ago. I think the renewal is here and--I know my colleagues are not with me on this, and that's all right, I'm retiring anyway--I don't have a great objection to blended services--that is to say, [services] with some renewal music in it and classical as well. At Christ Church on Sunday at the big service, it occurs mostly in the communion sung by the choir alternating with classical hymns from the hymn book. A lot of it is played on the piano, and some of it is played on the organ. We almost never use guitars or the string bass or the recorders in the big service. There are two other renewal services in the week, where all renewal music is appearing. I don't have any problems with this because everybody doesn't like Bach. That's just a plain fact. Like all organists, I wish it were otherwise. Everything that I like--Tallis and Byrd and everybody--I wish everybody would like it as much as me, but they don't. Some of them really get a lot out of the different songs, and we think my colleagues here do it here very tastefully so the whole service blends, and I guess the word "blend" is about the right word for it. You have a service where something in it appeals to everybody. In the beginning I was resigned and thought, "Well, that's what it's going to be," but the truth is the whole service becomes an entity, a unity. Without the renewal music, that particular service isn't right. Now at the 11:00 service, which does not have any renewal type music, to put it in there would not be right. We're a big enough church that we can have five services on Sunday, so it's easy. People, like water, seek their own level; they find the service they like and go to it. In these large churches it's necessary that services have their own character--that every service doesn't sound like the last one anymore than every Episcopal church in Greenville should sound like the next one. This [individual character] is its appeal: the spiritual appeal of people. I feel that the renewal music has its place, at a certain time but not all the time. I don't mean just out at the campfire or something. I mean in a church service on a Sunday morning. I think it has an appeal and a place.

You've drawn a clear distinction about doing it tastefully and not using guitars and so on.

That might be a failing. I know of churches which use guitars and flutes and violins and everything and dress it all up very nicely. In a sense we're bringing the secular world into the sacred and in a sense we're not. Music that Vivaldi wrote, the guitar concertos and so forth, was not a lot different than the Vivaldi Gloria. It was the same style in and out of the church. That has always swung back and forth as everybody knows. I think God uses all kinds of music to proclaim His gospel and to draw people to him. So I think that secular music--that gentle secular music--is useful. Songs such as "As the deer" and so on make an appeal that deals with the spiritual side of the person. I think it is important that we acknowledge that. These pendulums swing. A lot of the stuff the Roman Catholics had in the sixties has gone away, and some of the Roman Catholic churches that I know of are now swinging back to Gregorian Chant and to their heritage that they have from that, which I think is wonderful. I think classical music, like the Brahms motets, appeals to me, and if I were going to a service, not as an organist, I would go to Church of the Advent in Boston and hear the music played and sung there. As I said, people seek their own level in music. I know there is a terrible controversy raging about it. People say, "I'm not going to do it, I'm not going to have it." Well, it's not easy to say that. I think we have to deal with it the best way we can. We have to make it useful to God's purpose--not our purposes but God's purpose as we see it.

Given that there does seem to be such controversy about it, are you still optimistic about the church?

I am. Lots of my friends are not optimistic about church or church music, but I am because I know these things cycle. The really fine [examples] of any style of music or any style of worship is going to stay. It has stayed over the years. We still sing "A mighty fortress" for example. Any church should present the classical hymns: "A mighty fortress," "O God, our help in ages past," all the Lutheran chorales, the hymns in the 1982 Hymnal and the 1940 Hymnal. These should always be in the forefront of everything that's done. Then when the other music comes in, you actually have the icing on the cake in a sense. I am optimistic about church music. There are lots of great teachers, and there are lots of great players that really are church organists as opposed to performers. All you have to remember is to work with people--the relationships--that's the main thing. That doesn't just mean the choir members. It means the clergy and the staff, the program staff, the janitorial staff, all of them. And then you find out how things get done easily.

Brian Swager is a contributing editor of The Diapason.

Nunc Dimittis

Ronald Barnes, 1927-1997

Ronald Montague Barnes was born and brought up in Lincoln, Nebraska. In 1931, at about age four, he believed that his parents took him to hear Anton Brees dedicate the Taylor carillon at First Plymouth Congregational Church. He recalled an evening along the streets in the neighborhood, with everyone's attention focused on a light high in the tower. Then, as a teenager, he began organ study with Myron Roberts, the church's organist, who one day asked Ron if he would consider learning to play the carillon as well, since Mary Guest, the woman then playing, planned to move away.

Ron ascended the tower to watch her play. She played only melodies, using only the bottom two octaves and grasping the keys chime-style. When he asked her why she did not also use the higher notes she replied that they didn't work, and, sure enough, when he tried one of the keys it would not move. A few days later he and his older brother Bryce made their way into the bell chamber for the first time (in those days a hazardous climb indeed), and he realized for the first time that each of those other notes actually had a bell attached to it.

The two young men carried twelve bushel baskets full of dead pigeons, droppings, and other dirt down the narrow stairway and out of the tower. To the best of their amateur skills, they cleaned and lubricated the playing action, disassembling some of it. On the Sunday after they finished, Ronald went up to play. He possessed no carillon music, so he simply played scales up and down the compass. Neighbors immediately began phoning, wanting to know when the church had gotten additional bells. So far as he could determine, nobody had played the small bells on that carillon since Anton Brees' dedicatory recitals more that a decade earlier!

At the end of World War II Barnes served in the US Navy in Japan during the occupation, on a destroyer tender as a specialist working with navigational instruments, and later as a helmsman on a destroyer. Afterwards he used the GI Bill to earn a Master of Arts degree in musicology at Stanford University, where for his thesis he wrote a study of the carillon preludes of Matthias van den Gheyn. He attended his first GCNA congress in 1948 at Ann Arbor, where he, Theophil Rusterholz, and Bertram Strickland played their advancement recitals.

Following the congress he spent the summer in Ottawa with Robert Donnell, which proved to be his only formal study of the carillon. He returned to Lincoln, from whence he reported in the May 1950 edition of the Bulletin that the audiences for his summer Sunday evening recitals had grown large enough to interest the operators of ice cream wagons, complete with the little bells on the truck roofs.

In 1951 he accepted an appointment at the large new Taylor carillon in Lawrence, Kansas, which he said was the finest in the world at the time. While on the University of Kansas faculty he also taught harpsichord and music history, and cared for the university's instrument collection. In 1963 he again accepted an appointment to play a brand new Taylor carillon, which he again thought the best carillon in the world, this time at the Washington Cathedral.

During the Lawrence and Washington years he wrote a good number of arrangements and several new compositions, but the flow of works from his pen grew to an impressive scale only in the late 1970s. Cathedral politics had proved destructively stressful, but the 1975 decision to abolish his position in response to a financial emergency perversely freed him to regain the measure of personal stability that could release his creative powers. In 1982 he returned to California to preside over the Class of 1928 Carillon at the University of California at Berkeley, from which he retired in 1995 after thirteen highly productive years.

The GCNA held congresses at each of his three towers, beginning in Kansas in 1956. He served as President of the Guild during part of the 1960s, and for seven years during the 1950s as editor of the Bulletin. He gave his last performance for the Guild on his first carillon, in Lincoln, at the 1993 congress. He attended his last congress, only five months before his death, at his beloved instrument in Lawrence.

I had met Ronald several times before I moved to Berkeley in 1983. When I decided to accept a place in the entering law school class, I contacted him to ask if he needed an assistant. It turned out that one of his assistants had just resigned, and he welcomed me. He became a close personal friend, as I struggled with the tensions of law school and later of law practice, providing support (and wit) of immeasurable value. He became a trusted musical confidante. Although second-rate playing and literature both annoyed him greatly, he rarely offered a performer criticism of a recital, even to the players on his personal staff, unless the performer specifically asked for it. Then, when asked, his insights into both the performance and the music continually reminded us that he possessed knowledge of things unknown to the rest of us. The teacher under whom I had taken brief formal study had given me good technical grounding that Ronald claimed not to have himself, but in our unstructured years together as performers he showed me far more than anyone else ever had about our instrument and its unique personality.

His personal encouragement gave us several of the most important composers to write for the carillon in our time, among them Roy Hamlin Johnson, John Pozdro, and Gary White. He played pivotal roles in starting and nurturing the carillon careers of some of our most distinguished players as well, including Milford Myhre, Richard Strauss, and Daniel Robbins. He wrote provocatively and with penetrating insight several times for the Bulletin, encouraging us to set new standards for quality of performance, choice of repertory, and sophistication in the design and construction of instruments. But there is no doubt in my mind that the contribution that overshadows all others was his own contribution to our instrument's musical literature.

His failing eyesight brought his performing to an end in 1994 and later interrupted his composing at a moment when he had several interesting works in draft, and doubtless many more yet unconceived. But he retained his keen ear and mind into retirement. He followed the course of the search for his successor closely, expressing great relief when he saw his Berkeley instrument pass into talented young hands.

By late spring 1997 he did not feel well. After he learned in late summer that he had leukemia, the first thing he said to me was that he hoped he could hang on long enough to attend the International Festival at Lake Wales in February, but neither he nor the festival were granted the honor. At about dawn on 3 November 1997, Ron Barnes departed his ravaged flesh to move on to the next life. He left behind a community of musicians on whose most fundamental notions of their instrument he had left his deep imprint.

--David Hunsberger

Remembering a good friend

My first experience in playing the carillon was at Central Christian Church in San Antonio, Texas, in 1958. That same year I discovered Ronald Barnes at The University of Kansas at Lawrence, so I knew Ron for about 40 years. At that time South Texas was on the edge of the carillon world, and I was desperate for help and guidance. Ron gave me carillon lessons and advice by mail.

When we first met in person during the summer of 1962 in Kansas, I was on my way to Ann Arbor to play my advancement recital and I wanted to play the program for someone. I remember very well missing every pedal on his Kansas instrument, since I was used to my carillon's Dutch standard, and this was the first carillon I had ever played that didn't have those tall black pedal keys. Ron was very understanding and encouraging to a beginner and almost a total stranger. At that time he allowed me to take home to copy whatever I wanted from his library. This was before the days of photocopying, and music had to be copied by hand. This took several months, but I finally mailed his music back to him. Ron had always been extremely generous both with his time and his music library.

My first GCNA congress was at Ann Arbor in 1962. I remember being very impressed with Ron, because he had transposed his recital for that carillon so that it would sound in the same keys in which the pieces were written. This was the congress that Percival Price had the University Choir up in the tower along with a bagpiper, and people were hitting long boards that were suspended in the tower. This congress also included the famous playing of The Bells of Hell with car horn ad lib. Ron wrote to me on 26 June 1962 concerning that congress: "I hope that you enjoyed the Congress and got something out of it. They are usually hectic, disorganized, and crazy, but also fun and frequently informative and instructive."

Ron loved to laugh. Not only was he humorous in his conversation, he reveled in telling funny stories, jokes, and actual anecdotes. We all know of Ron's fondness for organ recitals. He once wrote about a friend who was to play an organ recital at the National Shrine: "However, I don't know if I will hear him play or not. I've already heard an organ recital."

Before his carillon recital in San Antonio at Christmas 1979 he wrote in a letter: "The little 'Fanfare' you requested has turned out to be an 'Introit' instead, since I don't know how to write music that sounds like 'hay and the manger' as you requested." He had a marvelous way with words, command of language, extensive vocabulary, and an amazing quick wit.

During his playing of Serenade for Carillon at the 1978 Congress at Christ Church Cranbrook, I was aware for the first time that I was not listening to just a carillon recital, but I was listening to music that happened to be played on the carillon. Ron was one of the few people who could do this. He was a wonderful musician whose instrument of choice was the carillon.

Over the years, Ron, Tom and I took many trips to Mexico during Christmas breaks. In typical Ron fashion, he researched Mexico and knew the mountains, architecture, art, literature, history, and culture better than Tom and I did, and we live only 150 miles from the border. In reading one guide book Ron came upon a delightful saying that has entered into our language: "Wherever you go, there you are."

Over the years, Ron became one of our best friends, even though we never even lived in the same city. He was a most remarkable person. Many thanks to the carillon for bringing us together.

--George Gregory

Ronald Barnes was a true Renaissance type of person. He had expertise in so many different categories: performer, composer, teacher, graphic artist, humorist, and even philosopher. He could converse intelligently on almost any subject and could inspire others to attain levels of achievement far beyond anything they could imagine. His interest in the history of the instrument, coupled with his excellent memory for detail, gave him an enviable breadth of knowledge.

With his passing the carillon world has lost one of its greatest advocates. His interest in this strange and wonderful instrument was unlimited. It embraced all facets of playing technique, composition, bell founding, playing mechanism, tower design, and recording techniques. Nothing escaped his scrutiny, much to the delight of all who enjoyed his searing wit. His loyal friendship and generosity were models for us all. May we now honor his memory by emulating his best qualities and playing his music with great devotion and scrupulous care.

--Milford Myhre

With the passage of Ronald Barnes, the carillon world has lost a primary mover in the artistic evolution of what he often called "the world's largest recital instrument." Through his performing and composing, he asserted the value of his chosen medium as being at least equal to that of the traditional keyboard instruments in their capacity to convey expressions of the human spirit. Further, by discarding the cliches and shop-worn technical devices of Post-Romantic carillon academies, and by basing his style on his instrument's unique physical properties, he produced and encouraged fresh solutions to universal musical problems of sonority, tonality, and structure.

He helped many composers, including me, to find their "carillon voices." It is safe to say that the notes for carillon penned by these persons would not have found their way to paper, had it not been for his profound insights, continuous enthusiasm, and merciless wit.

--Roy Hamlin Johnson

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.

First Congregational Church, Los Angeles, January 12-16, 2001

"Despite the nay-sayers, the organ is very much alive and we're going to keep it that way." With that hopeful remark, Fred Swann opened the third annual Organ Alive! conference at First Congregational Church of Los Angeles. Swann started this conference when he assumed the position of organist at the church three years ago, in response to a request from the church leaders for more prominence for the organ. The previous year's conference in January 2000 had been a retrospective of the organ in the 20th century. This year focused on the future of the organ and young emerging talents who will help keep the organ profession vital, hence the subtitle, "The Organ in the 21st century--Quo vadis?"

First Congregational Church of Los Angeles, founded in 1867, is the oldest Protestant church in continuous service in Los Angeles. It is built in gothic style of reinforced concrete, with a square tower rising to a height of 157 feet. The church is a large multi-storied facility--157,000 square feet--with fellowship

/dining hall, chapel, meeting rooms, parlors, and lovely courtyards, providing a very pleasant atmosphere and ample space for the conference events. Thanks to Swann's planning and music administrator Kathie Freeman's organizational wizardry, the conference was well-planned and organized. An army of volunteers from the church gave up their weekend to serve as ushers, set tables, provide refreshments, drive the shuttle bus, give directions, and see that visitors were comfortable. 175 people from 21 states and three  foreign countries were registered for the conference (the original registration limit was 120, they increased it to 175 and still had to turn 63 people away).

After formally opening the conference, Fred Swann asked everyone to stand and launched into a "name that tune" game. He played very brief excerpts from organ literature, starting with the opening of the Bach D-minor Toccata and getting progressively more difficult. When you couldn't identify one, you had to sit down. There were prizes for the winners--great fun for all. The organ in Shatto chapel--34 stops, including seven digital voices installed by Robert Walker--proved able to suggest the characteristic sounds to help us identify the pieces from hearing only a few notes.

The Great Organs

"Like Zephyrus, Eurus, Boreas and Notus, the four winds of classical antiquity, the quartet of organs at historic First Congregational Church are awesome to contemplate, even when calm in the stillness of their vaulted home. From the gossamer evanescence of their lightest stops to the redwood-strength and majesty of their full fury unleashed, they are positively mind-altering in power and heart-stopping in passion." (--Peter Rutenberg, in the program notes for Double Organ and Chorus concert)

While some readers might be put off by the poetic effusion of Rutenberg's description, the great organs at First Congregational are magnificent indeed. Few places in the world can boast of the musical resources available in these organs. The color, contrast, and spatial distribution of the pipes make the sanctuary a very exciting place to hear organ music.

The original 58-rank organ was built in 1932 by Ernest M. Skinner, with William H. Barnes serving as consultant. The organ was greatly enlarged in 1969, but the Skinner hallmark sounds--rich diapasons, lush strings--were unaltered. A large new instrument was built in the rear gallery by the Schlicker Organ Company in 1969, adding great versatility to the church's musical resources with its 17th-century North German character. Schlicker also constructed an Italian-style continuo organ located above the south choir.  In 1984, a state trumpet was added to the chancel organ. In 1990, the church began a renovation and renewal project with three phases: replacement of the consoles with two new consoles built by Möller, new windchests and mechanical repairs for the chancel organ, and, thanks to a substantial gift, the installation of 100 additional ranks to the organs. The two new consoles are the largest drawknob consoles ever built in North America (the movable chancel console was completed shortly before the Möller company closed). All of the organs can be played from either or both of the twin five-manual consoles, one in the chancel, the other in the rear gallery. Richard F. Muench, longtime curator of the organs at First Church, undertook the second and third parts of the work until his death in 1992. William Zeiller, present organ curator, continued the project. The present renovations to the Great Organs will make them collectively one of the largest musical instruments ever built, and one of the largest and most complete organs in any church in the world. When the restoration work in progress is completed, the Great Organs will consist of more than 346 ranks, 265 stops, 233 voices, and 20,000 pipes.

Sunday morning worship

I was eager to attend the Sunday service at 11:00 am, looking forward to observing a master service player in action. I tend to dislike services put together solely to demonstrate repertoire, etc., for conference attendees (though enjoyable, they always have an ersatz feel), so I was glad to be attending a regular Sunday service at First Congregational. Upon entering the narthex, I was greeted by ushers in morning coats, and took my place to listen to Swann's extended prelude--Chorale from Symphony II, Vierne;  Choralfantasy "How Brightly Shines the Morning Star", Buxtehude; Came Three Holy Kings, Glière; and The Children of God, Messiaen. People listened in silence. Attendance was sparse, but those there exhibited enthusiasm. I looked and listened with admiration as Swann played the hymns from memory and skillfully accompanied the conference choir and the First Congregational choir.

Concerts and recitals

Sunday afternoon featured a concert given by the Los Angeles Master Chorale. The program included Kodály's Missa Brevis, Laudes Organi, and Vierne's Messe Solennelle, with organists Fred Swann and Philip Allen Smith. As concert time approached, the sanctuary was filled to capacity--people were standing in the aisles. The 60-voice Los Angeles Master Chorale, under the direction of Paul Salamunovich, is marvelous. Their sound is a seamless and rich straight tone, the altos and basses particularly strong, never outshone by the tenors and sopranos. Fred Swann knew when to keep the organ just behind the choir, and when to let it be at least equal, skillfully using the Skinner organ sounds to blend wonderfully with the voices. Kodály's festive "Laudes Organi" was premiered by Swann at the national AGO convention in Atlanta in 1966.

The Vierne "Messe Solennelle" was handled skillfully by Philip Allen Smith at the gallery organ and Swann at the chancel console. It was a treat to hear this work in an environment that shares important characteristics with the one for which it was conceived. Parry's "I Was Glad" was a thrilling close to an outstanding concert, rewarded with thunderous, extended applause.

The evening before the conference officially began, participants were invited to attend a keyboard tribute to Fred Bock at the First Presbyterian Church of Bel Air. The concert featured organists and pianists playing repertoire from two collections--"Encore, Encore" and "Bock's Best Friends," both published by Fred Bock Music Company--honoring the memory of Fred Bock, composer, music publisher, and former organist of First Presbyterian of Hollywood.

The organ at First Presbyterian of Bel Air was built by Robert Tall & Associates, blending 60 ranks of pipes salvaged from the previous Casavant organ (destroyed in the Northridge earthquake in 1994) with Rodgers digital voices to create an instrument with 151 ranks and 118 speaking stops. Although the organ's range of sounds is impressive, tuning and blend problems were evident. John West, artist in residence at First Presbyterian of Bel Air, demonstrated his expertise in effectively and tastefully handling the instrument's non-organ sound MIDI voices, while Fred Swann handled the instrument's traditional sounds with elegance in absentia (performing via MIDI playback, having been called to a rehearsal), in his own arrangement of "Great Is Thy Faithfulness." A fabulous Steinway concert grand was given equal time on the program, as pianists Jan Sanborn, Dwight Elrich, Mark Hayes, William Phemister, Michele Murray and Dick Bolks performed some lovely hymn-tune settings, several of which were arranged by the performers. These works are published in the collection "Bock's Best Friends" (Fred Bock Music, catalog number BG0967).

In keeping with the conference theme, two young artists were featured in recitals--Felix Hell and Svetlana Fiakhretdinova. The programs were well attended, the audience nearly filling the main floor of the 1000-seat sanctuary.

Felix Hell, 15-year-old organ prodigy, exudes a natural musicality and a palpable eagerness to perform. Dwarfed by the monster five-manual console, from the first notes of his performance he took command. His Bach, Buxtehude and Mendelssohn were elegantly expressive: he lingered over cadential harmonies and exuberantly freed the fantasy sections. His Bach D-major Prelude and Fugue was heroic. The fiendish Schlafes Brüder, his signature piece, sizzled, Felix negotiating its fistfuls of notes with aplomb. Felix hasn't quite grown into the expansive legato style of the Franck B-minor Choral, which also suffered from ineffective registration (though limited practice time while on tour might have been a factor). The Adagio from Widor's fifth sounded hurried, but he romped through the famous Toccata with ease. His encore was the Final from Vierne's Symphony I, and the second encore a repeat of "Schlafes Bruder."

Svetlana Fiakhretdinova, native of Moscow, Russia, was a regional winner in the AGO Young Artists Competition and is a student of John Weaver at the Curtis Institute. She played her program from memory, opening with Guillou's Toccata, demonstrating a very quiet technique. Her Vierne Adagio showed a good sense of the long lines in French music, and the stops of the Skinner organ sang warmly. Her Bach Trio Sonata, though rhythmically supple, was hindered by memory lapses, but she hit her stride with the Duruflé Suite. The Prelude flowed well and rumbled satisfyingly, the Sicilienne bubbled along gracefully at an impressive tempo, and the Toccata was electrifying yet solidly under control.

Noon organ concerts were offered on Saturday, Monday, and Tuesday by Robert Plimpton, Melody Steed, and Sean O'Neal, performers from the Los Angeles area.

Conference workshops

The conference workshops focused on two main topics--performance and organbuilding. Sessions on improvisation, repertoire, MIDI, the role of the accompanist, and organ maintenance made up the performance-related offerings of the conference.

The Los Angeles AGO Chapter, a sponsor of the Saturday events of the conference, had requested that the conference include workshops on improvisation. Two such workshops were held on Saturday afternoon: "Improvisation for the Advanced" led by Bruce Neswick, and "Improvisation for the Challenged" led by Fred Swann. Since I had heard Bruce Neswick speak before, I attended Fred Swann's session. He distributed a handout--"Basic Improvisation Suggestions for the Doodling/Noodling Challenged," which was full of great advice and guidelines, all demonstrated by Swann. The talk was interspersed with anecdotes from his experiences at Riverside Church and the Crystal Cathedral. Mark Thallender, associate organist at the Crystal Cathedral, was coaxed to the bench to demonstrate as well. These workshops were followed by an improvisation recital by Bruce Neswick.

Craig Phillips

If you haven't played anything written by Craig Phillips, call your music supplier. His works have a modern sound with somewhat modal harmony, are rhythmically interesting, and are very appealing to the listener. His oeuvre consists of organ solo and choral works as well as a smattering of works for organ with instruments and various instrumental ensembles. Craig Phillips serves as music associate at All Saints' Episcopal Church in Beverly Hills. He's a fine organist and demonstrated several works based on hymn tunes, including Torah Song, a well-crafted piece based on a tune from the Hymnal 1982. His yet unpublished Pastorale for Bassoon and Organ was lovely, and beautifully played by a bassoonist from his church. He commented that organ repertoire is inextricably linked to the development of the instrument, tied to the church, and for utilitarian purposes, with many works associated with specific instruments and churches. His influences are Buxtehude, Mendelssohn, Franck, Widor and Messiaen, and he views his work as part of a well-established continuum.

Thomas Somerville

Thomas Somerville, director of music at First Congregational, gave a workshop titled "What a Choral Director Expects of an Organist." Far from being a dry, didactic "how-to" session, Somerville's workshop was inspiring and well-planned. His affable nature and obvious respect for his colleagues communicated as much as his outline and remarks. He stressed the importance of communication--about the music and about working together. He distributed a sample of the detailed music schedule he prepares, relating how he discusses accompaniments and plans with Fred Swann and other staff members.

Somerville defines our purpose as church musicians as follows: "to point to, and glorify God as the author of goodness, the creator of beauty, the giver of artistic sensibility and talent, and focus of adoration and praise." He shared five points towards achieving our purpose as musicians in the church: choose music that embodies our purpose, prepare to perform the music to the best of our ability, commit to a musical partnership with all who will rehearse and perform the music with us, maintain an attitude of respect for all who will hear the music, do this with joy insofar as possible. Fred Swann concurrently gave a workshop on designing recital programs. A lively discussion had arisen at the end of Somerville's lecture, and Swann, having finished his workshop, poked his head in the door to tease Somerville about going a few minutes over time.

Robert Noehren

Having been an avid reader of his work and played his instruments, I was thrilled to have the opportunity to hear Robert Noehren speak after dinner on Saturday evening. This elder statesman of the organ world offered a new perspective on listening to music, noting that when you're ninety years old, you definitely live one day at a time. He asked himself two questions: "Do I listen to music simply for the pleasure of it?" "Have I missed that in my profession?" He realized he had been guilty of not truly listening to music. He believes you can't truly listen to music and do anything else, so now he sets aside time each day just to listen--behaving like an amateur, listening with curiosity. This practice has brought music to him in a refreshing new way and has virtually changed his outlook on music. Each morning he looks forward to his listening time.

He detailed some of the repertoire he listens to, and some of his experiences as performer and organbuilder, and made a parallel with food. He wants to make eating an art, to take great pleasure in it. In closing, he recommended choosing only music that you like, playing everything beautifully, and taking pleasure in doing things as well as you can. Live your life with a sense of artistic purpose. Sound advice for a world of people rushing around, often too busy to savor the substance of life. (See the text of Noehren's lecture in this issue, pages 15-16.)

Organbuilding workshops

Organbuilding workshops featured presentations by several prominent personalities from the organ world. John Wilson, organ curator at the Crystal Cathedral, gave a workshop on organ maintenance, offering advice on how the organist can help organ technicians, and what the organist should not do. He shared some anecdotes about the challenges of keeping the Crystal Cathedral organ in tune. Meanwhile, Robert Tall of Robert Tall & Associates, Inc.--a company that builds pipe and digital organs--gave a workshop, "The Magic of MIDI," demonstrating with equipment brought in for the workshop.

Manuel Rosales

Anticipation was in the air as Manuel Rosales took the podium on Monday afternoon, the audience eager to hear what this outspoken organbuilder had to say. Rosales feels it unwise to try to predict the organ's future, but prefers to look back and synthesize the ideas of the past to create something new. He seeks an organ design that allows a vast range of music to be played, not necessarily authentically, but convincingly, allowing performers to bring out the best in their own playing. In the 20th century, much of what the 19th century developed was discarded; the 21st century is now reversing that. He calls this idea the "universal" organ, citing examples from his opus list, pointing out the "restoration of the 8¢ principal in each division," something not common in tracker organs built in the second half of the 20th century.

Two of his latest projects are of particular interest--the organs for Disney Hall and the Catholic Cathedral, both in Los Angeles. The Cathedral organ will be housed in a new building, with a sanctuary seating 3500. The instrument will be built by Lynn Dobson (with electric action and a movable console), with Rosales as the consultant, overseeing the voicing of the instrument. He described the Disney Hall organ as a further development of his "universal organ" ideas. (See the article, "A Brief History of the Walt Disney Concert Hall Organ Project," by Manuel Rosales, in the July issue, pp. 12-13.) For this project, he will be collaborating with Glatter-Götz Orgelbau, a firm he has worked successfully with on two other organs. G-G is building the pipes and other components, while Rosales is overseeing the voicing. The organ's tonal design (4M, 72 stops, 107 ranks) is a traditional three-manual concept, but very grand. He described the organ's 4th manual division, the Llamarada, as "Spanish on steroids," including the Llamada (Spanish for bugle call) and Trompeta de Los Angeles, stops that are "spicy as a chili pepper." The organ will be mainly tracker action, but the big bass pipes and the Llamarada division will be on electric action, a necessity, Rosales says, in large tracker instruments. In fact, the entire organ will have redundant electric action, and a second, movable console will be provided to help the organist hear and be seen. The organ's façade was greatly influenced by the architect Frank Gehry (designer of the concert hall complex), and has been the subject of much discussion. About the design, Rosales commented, "It's something you'll never forget and people will have an opinion about it. However, its unusual design will incite people's curiosity and they'll want to hear it!"

Jeff Dexter

Jeff Dexter is tonal director of Schantz Organ Company, probably the youngest person in such a position in American organbuilding, and an organist himself. Dexter's lecture, "A Look Beyond the Stoplist," dealt with unraveling the intricacies of creating a stoplist and what goes into making it a reality. Dexter excels at presenting technical information in easily digestible form, with a personable style. His purpose was to illuminate what the stoplist reveals: the musical intent of the builder, particular musical goals, desires of the client, and a link to the past. He outlined the building blocks of tonal design: scaling (historical practice and empirical knowledge) and pipe construction (materials appropriate for desired sound), and reliable mechanism so the vision can succeed. He described tonal finishing as the ultimate realization of the tonal design, molding the sound and polishing it.

Panel discussion

Given the framework questions and the organbuilders involved, the panel discussion promised to be interesting. The discussion questions included: Is the pipe organ doomed? What are the trends? What can we do to keep it alive? What "style" will dominate? Fred Swann opened the session by saying, "There's an audience for every type of organ. The main criterion is can you make music on it?" He had invited four organbuilders representing four schools of thought to be on the panel: Gene Bedient--tracker; Jack Bethards--Romantic/symphonic, electro-pneumatic; Jeff Dexter of Schantz--tried and true middle of the road; Robert Walker--digital sounds. Each builder was invited to make an opening statement about his own work and point of view. Excerpts follow.

Gene Bedient: We at Bedient believe first and foremost in creating beautiful, acoustical sounds made by organ pipes. I'm constantly struck these days by the amount of knowledge there is in the organbuilding world--knowledge of types of sounds, of different national styles. My interest is in how we combine those exceptional sounds--and that does not mean only sounds from 16th-century Italy, but everything I've learned abroad and in this country from the early history of the organ through the present. American culture is diverse and has many facets, but the pipe organ is not inherent in our culture like it is in some cultures. It's important that we as organists, organbuilders and organ-lovers engender enthusiasm in the pipe organ among the rest of society.

Jack Bethards, Schoenstein: Our tonal philosophy is based on the romantic or symphonic tradition and it's our goal to try to carry forward this tradition into the modern age by increasing the musical expressiveness of the pipe organ through two main means--increasing its dynamic range and the range of tonal colors. This type of instrument has a solid place in the church because it is so suited to the role of accompaniment and playing a wide variety of repertoire--things that all churches want and need. It is a very musically flexible style.

I see an extremely bright future for the pipe organ in terms of quality and variety. I give a lot of credit for this to sources that may seem surprising. First,  the electronic organ. The electronic organ has now progressed to the point where pipe organ builders do not have to try to satisfy every need, every budget. It leaves pipe organ builders free to concentrate on highly specialized work for discriminating clients who really love the pipe organ. In a way, that is a real blessing. Second is the tracker organ revival. The organ reform movements have been a great boon to the whole organbuilding world in two ways. One, bringing back the idea of thorough research into organbuilding, developing knowledge of what went on before. Another, the interest in fine hand-craftsmanship. Now what we are seeing is a variety of organbuilders working in all sorts of fields, but most of them working for high quality in both mechanical and musical matters.

What about the quantity of organs being built? This is another story, and I'm very concerned about it. The real problem is the music that's being played on the organ. I would classify the music by type and quality. There is music that is organistic and music that is not organistic. What I see creeping into the church is music that is primarily based on rhythm with vanilla harmonic structure. This is a serious problem for those of us who love the great choral and organ tradition. We're being inundated with cheaply-constructed, terrible pop music. I'm concerned that we're not doing enough both as builders and players and as educators to fight this trend of cheapness. We must not back down on standards. We're not in a relativistic world. There are good things and bad things and we need to stand up and fight for the good.

Jeff Dexter, tonal director, Schantz: It was said of our firm by a very distinguished colleague of mine that the Schantz organ company has the distinct quality of building ordinary church organs. While I'm not sure that this colleague meant that as a compliment, we take that as a very, very high compliment. We unapologetically build church organs; 95% of our business is associated with building church organs. I would wholeheartedly echo the sentiments of Mr. Bethards about the quality of church music and how important that is, and how important it is that organbuilders, organists, choirmasters, and leaders of church music make sure that the quality of the music is the absolute best. We need to get young people involved in this art form. We have to be tireless in our advocacy of getting young students involved and interested in what we do and what we build.

One of the things that we're going to see in the early part of the 21st century is something that really has been evolving over the past several decades--an actual American organbuilding school, much like we think of Germanic or French or Spanish schools. I think we're going to see more and more coalescing of that which is "American," just as Willis sounds English or Cavaillé-Coll sounds French.

As organbuilders, whatever discipline we find ourselves in, I believe there is room for everybody at this table in terms of American organbuilding. There are some basic tenets that we could all agree to. First, we have to have organs that are accessible in a variety of ways. They have to be easy to play in the sense that they must be approachable. They must not put off people. They must be flexible in their ability to perform a wide variety of literature, and above all, they must be musical. If they're not musical, we've failed on a very basic level.

Robert Walker, Walker Technical Company: I look at things abstractly because I'm centered in the pipe organ business but I'm not really in it. I love the sound of a pipe organ more than anything--nothing is like it. What we're doing is imitation. It's very good and getting better, but not the same. What makes the pipe organ live for hundreds of years? The pipe organ appeals to the senses more than any other instrument. You feel it, you can feel the 32¢ sounds. The overall grandeur of the organ is going to last. You can create various moods with an organ.

One of the worst aspects of reproducing pipe sounds by digital means is that speakers project in a conical fashion, which is fine for reeds but is terrible for flues. A flue pipe is a spherical radiator. One of the reasons electronic reproduction has not been successful is its speaking system. The one thing we really love at our company is to have an enclosure because we can aim speakers in different directions at different surfaces to get all reflective sound; 80-90% of pipe organ sound is reflective energy. And it's the reflective energy that fills the building as opposed to being directed at it. The pipe organ moves the building whereas speakers move the air. So in order for us to reproduce what a pipe is doing, we need a chamber to really be able to move the chamber in addition to the air.

Walker's last comment sparked some questions regarding organs with cases or unencased and straight vs. concave radiating pedal boards. Further discussion dealt with what the aspects of an American sound are and the fight against pop-style church music. The most interesting exchanges dealt with the marriage of digital voices and pipes. The builders were asked to give their thoughts on the matter.

Walker: Digital sounds can be effective if a quality perspective is taken. All aspects must be considered--how do the sound families match? How will they be tuned? How will maintenance be undertaken and synchronized with pipe maintenance? It requires a great deal of custom work.

Bedient:  "This is one situation where divorce is justified." (great laughter from the audience)

Dexter: Schantz uses digital voices for 32¢ pedal stops and percussion sounds, but no manual stops are digital. Schantz was a founding member of the Associated Pipe Organ Builders of America, which has strict guidelines. Schantz never uses a digital sound to substitute for a real rank of pipes. Their philosophy is if it won't fit, don't do it in digital.

Bethards: Schoenstein uses digital percussion sounds and no others. "We are PIPE ORGAN builders." His concerns about the marriage were related to service and maintenance, and the need to find qualified people who can do both. Also, digital sounds tempt people to make additions to organs that shouldn't have additions. Instruments that have unity and balance can be thrown off by being able to add anything. It's a slippery slope.

At this point, Fred Swann quickly raised his hand and said, "Guilty as charged! I've had digital stops added here." But Swann knows how those sounds should be integrated with the instrument, and how to use them effectively, key concepts to grasp when traversing the "slippery slope" of the world of digital sounds.

Thank you, Fred Swann

The future of the Organ Alive! conference is uncertain due to Swann's retirement in May. In fact, the entire First Congregational music staff--Swann, Thomas Somerville and music administrator Kathie Freeman--retired at the same time. Martin Neary will assume the position of director of music at First Congregational. It is hoped that  he will be able to continue to share the great organs and ample facilities of the church as Fred Swann has with the Organ Alive! conferences.

During the conference, many peopled shared anecdotes about Fred Swann, and reminiscences of performances and of his kindnesses. I was amused by the way he often pipes in with a quip of some sort. My favorite was: "More souls have been saved by two notes on the chimes than by all the mixtures in captivity." He often uses humor to get a point across and is self-effacing. He has served the field of church music for sixty years with his excellent musicianship and inviting manner.

Expressing his appreciation for the presence of the many conference attendees, Fred Swann graciously said, "I can't thank you enough if I thank you every time I see you." No Fred, WE can't thank YOU enough if we thank you every time we see you.

Brian Swager is a contributing editor of THE DIAPASON.

Dennis Reppen, Nunc Dimittis

Dennis W. Reppen died on September 29, 1995, in St. Paul,
MN, of cancer. From 1987 to 1993, Dennis was carillonneur and assistant
organist at House of Hope Presbyterian Church, St. Paul. During this period,
the Noyes Memorial Carillon at House of Hope underwent a major renovation. This
included enlargement of the instrument to 49 bells, installation of a new
practice keyboard, and a new playing cabin. In the summer of 1992, Dennis
inaugurated a Sunday evening recital series, and continued the series in 1993.
In September 1992 he organized a highly successful carillon workshop, taught by
Todd Fair, whose participants came from across the country.

Dennis grew up in Edgerton, Wisconsin, where as a high
school sophomore he began playing organ in 1963 at Central Lutheran Church. He
continued organ study with Theo Wee at St. Olaf College, Northfield, Minnesota,
obtaining a BA in Music in 1970. For the next four years he studied organ,
church music, musicology and theology at Heidelberg University. And, at Luther seminary in St. Paul, he studied theology.

Friends and family celebrated Dennis' life at services held
in Edgerton on October 4 and at St. Mark's Lutheran Church, North St. Paul,
where he was formerly organist, on October 9.

Citizen of the year

June Somerville was given a "citizen of the year"
award for playing the Norfolk Soldiers War Memorial Carillon at Simcoe,
Ontario, for twenty years and teaching carillon classes. The presentation was
made by the mayor at Simcoe Town Hall following a reception on January 8.

Until 1992, Somerville was carillonneur at the Niagara Falls
Rainbow Tower, where she played for 16 years, and carillonneur at the Cathedral
of Christ the King in Hamilton, Ontario, 
where she served for 13 years. She continues as director of the handbell
choir at Tyerson United Church in Hamilton, and next May will celebrate 25
years as director there. June is a member of the American Guild of English
Handbell Ringers and is now honorary president of the Ontario Guild of English
Handbell Ringers. She holds both a B.M. and a B.S. degree as well as a Master's
in Education.

June's carillon recitals at Simcoe are on Sunday afternoons
from May through September. In December there are daily evening recitals for
the Christmas "Panorama of Lights" in the park.

Niederlander Carillon renovation

The following appeared in the Calvary Church Communicator in
January, 1995, when twenty-six bells were to be removed from the tower,
signaling the start of the renovation and enlargement of the Niederlander
Carillon at Calvary Episcopal Church in Williamsville, New York:

'Twas two days after New Years, and up in the tower,

Ten a.m. had arrived, the removal hour.

It was Fall '92 that the project began,

The Vestry first heard of the Carillonneur's plan.

There was a new way that was recently found,

To retune the carillon and improve the sound.

When the Vestry was told how much it would cost,

Their first inclination was, "Tell her . . . get
lost."

But cool heads prevailed, their outlook turned sunny,

We'll let our Carillonneur raise all the money.

Where will it come from everyone did ask,

To raise all that money is no easy task.

She simply agreed, and despite a few fears,

The money was raised, though it's taken two years.

What's happening in the tower, what's all the commotion?

Seven new bells from across the ocean.

Twenty will be retuned, six will be recast,

Thirty-three clappers will fit right at last.

Down F#, down Eb, now here comes the C,

The bell chamber's looking quite empty to me.

Thirty-seven were there, just eleven remain,

To get a new sound, no one should complain.

The tunes will be small from the bells that will stay,

And hopefully around the middle of May,

There will be a service of rededication,

A concert, reception and big celebration.

When the work is all finished, the last bell they'll raise,

And once again the carillon will ring out God's Praise!

And it came to pass that on April 1, (no fooling) the Verdin
truck arrived with Theo King, seven new bells cast by Petit & Fritsen,
thirty bells retuned by Richard Watson, and thirty-three new cast-iron clappers
and headpieces from the Verdin Co. Three more retuned bells followed a week
later.

Within two weeks the carillon was pronounced ready to ring.
And ring out it did! On Sunday, May 21, at 3 p.m., an outdoor service of
rededication was held. The service was followed by a recital, played by Janet
S. Dundore, which was designed to demonstrate the new range and sound of the
instrument. The day's festivities concluded with a reception in the church.
Janet was featured on a television newscast later that evening in a prerecorded
interview in the tower.

The original 15-bell chime was a gift to the community and
Calvary Church by Daniel and Grace Niederlander in 1959. In 1966, twenty-two
bells were added by Mrs. Niederlander, making the instrument a carillon. Seven
new bells were given this year as thank offerings or memorials by several
donors. The range of the instrument is now 31/2 chromatic octaves (44 bells)
from c, which weighs approximately 590 pounds, to g3 which weighs in at 20
pounds. The retuning of the original Van Bergen bells and the new cast-iron
clappers have made a great improvement in the quality of the instrument's
sound.