Cover feature

Goulding & Wood Organ Builders, Inc., Indianapolis, Indiana

Opus 50

The Episcopal Church of the Good Shepherd, Lexington, Kentucky

 

From the organbuilder

“Worship the LORD in the beauty of holiness” could well serve as the motto for the organ project at the Episcopal Church of the Good Shepherd in Lexington, Kentucky. The Gothic revival building holds a wealth of architectural and design detail, culminating in an extravagance of carved furnishings in the chancel. Wainscot paneling in the sanctuary depicts scenes from the life of Christ, and the reredos displays a large tableau of the Last Supper. 

Liturgical worship in the parish matches the opulence of the setting, with an unusually well-developed choral program encompassing all ages. Over the past twelve years, organist and choirmaster John Linker has built a music department known throughout the area for excellence. The Good Shepherd choirs have held residencies in English cathedrals and this summer made their first concert tour of continental Europe.

Throughout this period of musical expansion, the congregation has been served by a 1970s neo-Baroque organ of modest resources. Although the instrument was a fine example of its aesthetic approach and served the parish well for forty years, the organ was inadequate for the scope of the music program as it has evolved. It contained only one manual reed and no celeste rank. In short, the organ struggled to keep up with the demands of accompanying Anglican chant psalmody and the choral music of Stanford and Howells. 

Conversation about replacing the organ began nearly a decade ago, yet while the need was never in dispute, external forces seemed to derail the discussion at every turn. Building on the foundation laid by Fr. Robert Sessum, interim rector Fr. Ron Pogue seized the opportunity during the time of transition in leadership to force the issue. The committee moved quickly under the focused leadership of chair Joseph Jones, and a contract was signed after a brief flurry of activity.

The organ is thus designed primarily as a handmaiden for musical liturgy in the Anglican tradition as it has been received by the American church. The instrument’s resources are uniquely tailored to the setting it serves in every regard. Recognizing the value of a wide tonal palette, the chancel instrument is double the size of the previous organ, gaining variety in tone rather than increase in volume. A new chamber was created by renovating a second-story storage room, allowing organ on both sides of the chancel for the first time. The existing chamber, formerly housing the Swell, now holds the Choir in intimate proximity to the voices it accompanies. The Swell resides within the new chamber, high in the chancel where its robust voice can speak freely into the room. The Great is divided in twin cantilevered cases facing each other, with the plenum stops on the cantoris side and color stops on the decani. Maximizing the versatility of this arrangement, the two halves of the Great can be silenced through individual Unison Off controls and coupled to the fourth manual separately. This allows, for instance, the Great principal cornet to dialogue with the Great Trumpet.

Early on, the committee determined that having a division in the back of the room would be a top priority. For all the storied choir-centric nature of the Anglican tradition, worship in America resoundingly seeks to involve the assembly in song. With the acoustically compromising arrangement of chancel chambers off the central axis of the room, an Antiphonal organ on the back wall would help unify music-making throughout the church. Whenever the issue of funding was raised, the Antiphonal division was widely recognized as the most palatable sacrifice, yet it remained a strong desire among the committee. Thanks to the efficacy of the fund-raising campaign and the generosity of the Miller and Wrigley families, the committee was able to avoid any limitations. Twin cases frame the majestic western lancet window, and the polished display pipes reflect the colorful light from the stained glass. The polished brass Festival Trumpet completes the visual effect with a regal touch.

Any student of organ design will recognize the predictable nature of stop lists from instrument to instrument across styles of organ building. The distinctive quality of tonal design lies in the careful specification of scales, mouth widths, and voicing techniques. All of these details are meticulously overseen by our head voicer, Brandon Woods, who works with each stop through design to final regulation in the room. In this he is ably assisted by David Sims, who contributes to each step of the process. This instrument features a weight in tone and variety in color consistent with the demands of accompanying voices in a sensitive, supportive manner. Each division includes an 8′ principal stop, each of varying volume and personality. The plenum choruses complement each other in combination as well as stand individually with integrity. As with many of our recent instruments, mouth widths below 1′ C on principal pipes are kept fairly narrow, allowing the upper lips of mouths to rise. This imparts a tone with generous fundamental development. With diapason chorus stops, this yields 8′ and 4′ stops with compelling and distinctive personalities. Higher-pitched stops and mixtures step back in scaling and broaden in mouth width to permit more upper partial development. Volume and speech are reserved in these stops, preventing them from dominating the texture. The result is a chorus with sheen but whose power comes from the fundamental.

The reed stops of the organ traverse a wide spectrum of musical effect. The Great Trumpet has lead resonators of generous scale and shallots with sharply tapered openings. These combine for a sound rich and heavy, blending into the principal chorus seamlessly. The Swell reed chorus features parallel openings on the shallots for a full-throated brilliance that pours from its chamber. The Choir’s Clarinet is gentle and voluptuous in the style of E. M. Skinner stops. The instrument is crowned by two solo reeds, the Choir Tuba and the Antiphonal Festival Trumpet. The Tuba is a typical high-pressure reed, in the style of Willis, with a broad, enveloping tone. The Festival Trumpet is commanding, speaking from its dramatic position, yet mild enough to use (sparingly) in chords.

Celeste ranks are of particular note in this organ. In addition to the ubiquitous strings in the Swell and Dulciana in the Choir, the Antiphonal contains a Diapason Celeste. Both unison and celeste ranks use slotted pipes to encourage the undulation, and the keen tone that derives from the slots makes for a distinctive sound. The timbre is unapologetically diapason in quality, and the vigorous sound of the two ranks together fills the room in a luxuriant wash of sound.

Windchests throughout the organ feature our unique electro-pneumatic slider and pallet design. The combination of tone channels running across stops and wholly pneumatic action enables the pipework to speak incisively yet without any harshness in attack. Further, the stops meld together as they draw wind from a common source. Arranging the mechanics and structure proved to be an extremely challenging task, particularly as the new Swell chamber’s dimensions continued to be a moving target throughout design and even construction of the organ. Staff design engineer Kurt Ryll and shop manager Mark Goulding nonetheless arrived at a layout that, if not commodious, certainly supports maintenance access to every component. Moving about the organ for routine tuning is remarkably simple, belying the complexity of the design necessary to achieve this.

The cabinetry of the organ and console was executed by Robert Duffy and Robert Heighway, culling elements from the room, such as the Tudor roses that adorn the rood screen and ornamental bosses featured in the reredos. The console uses marquetry to separate the divisions within the stop jambs and to frame the burled central panel of the music desk. Throughout the organ, both internal and visible details are finished with an attention to detail consistent with the quality of woodworking in the church.

The sum of all these disparate parts is an instrument that truly speaks forth, carrying the people’s song and supporting the choir in their leadership. While our intention was for it to be specifically suited to the worship of this congregation, we made no attempt to embody shallow or derivative notions of English organ building. This is an American instrument embracing the gamut of organ literature, hymnody, and choral music employed by the congregation. In realizing this goal we gratefully acknowledge the contributions of organist and choirmaster John Linker and committee chair Joseph Jones. We also recognize the steady leadership of the rector, Fr. Brian Cole, who inherited a project already underway and oversaw the completion with a dedication and enthusiasm as if it were his own. We look forward to sharing with the congregation in the upkeep of the organ, watching as it enlivens the worship at Church of the Good Shepherd and enriches the musical life of Lexington.

—Jason Overall

Goulding & Wood, Inc.

Indianapolis, Indiana

 

Robert Duffy, casework, cabinetry, and wood carvings

John Goulding, reed racking

Mark Goulding, shop foreman, general shop construction

Chris Gray, general shop construction

Robert Heighway, console cabinetry, casework cabinetry, and slider chests

Jerin Kelly, wind chests, general shop construction

Phil Lehman, office manager

Tyler MacDonald, wind chests

Jason Overall, office support and tonal design

Kurt Ryll, case design and engineering

David Sims, system wiring, tonal finishing

Michael Vores, structure, expression boxes, general shop construction

Brandon Woods, tonal design, voicing, and finishing.

 

From the organist & choirmaster

Goulding & Wood Opus 50 (named “The Miller and Wrigley Organ”) is the physical manifestation of many years of consideration, consultation, site visits, fundraising, and, of course, prayer. On my appointment to the Church of the Good Shepherd in 2001, it was immediately apparent that the previous neo-Baroque instrument had limited resources for accompanying the Anglican liturgy. As more and more electro-magnets and memory capture components failed, it was decided to replace the instrument with an organ more suitable to the fine Gothic architecture of Good Shepherd, and having a more diverse tonal palette, rather than to restore the previous instrument.

Upon his retirement in 2009, former rector Fr. Robert Sessum suggested to the congregation that the next project in the immediate future of Good Shepherd should be to replace the organ. The congregation heeded the advice of Fr. Sessum, and over the next two years an organ committee and organ capital campaign committee were formed under the guidance of the interim rector, Fr. Ron Pogue. Our new rector, Fr. Brian Cole, oversaw installation of the new instrument. It is a privilege to have worked with these three clergymen in seeing the dream of a new instrument for Good Shepherd come true.

In selecting a builder, the committee had their work cut out for them. My personal preference favors mechanical action, as I have found tracker instruments to be superior tools of artistic expression. Early on in the process, however, our committee had to dismiss this as an option due to Good Shepherd’s architecture and our desire to have symmetrically balanced cases on both sides of the chancel, as well as an Antiphonal division at the west end to better support hymn singing. After reviewing numerous designs, specifications, and participating in site visits, the committee unanimously chose Goulding & Wood.

Over many months we worked closely with Goulding & Wood president Jason Overall and head voicer Brandon Woods on a specification that would meet Good Shepherd’s liturgical needs and be unique. We agreed to reuse some of the finest pipework from the old instrument in the new organ. The former Great 8′ Principal and 4′ Octave were revoiced and now reside in the Choir as 8′ Open Diapason and the 4′ Principal. The former 16′ Subbass (which was, in fact, from the parish’s Pilcher organ from the 1920s) was revoiced and at home again in Good Shepherd. The Pedal 4′ Schalmey as well as the Zimbelstern were also worthy of recycling.  

As its primary function is to accompany the Anglican liturgy, a complete and powerful Swell division is a must. The new Swell boasts a complete principal chorus, luscious strings, and harmonic flutes at 4′ and 2′ pitches, as well as a full complement of 16′ through 4′ reeds. While the Swell, Choir, and Pedal divisions appear fairly standard in specification, it is the Great and Antiphonal divisions that have the most innovative design and function. The Great is divided on both sides of the quire, and as such, each side can be coupled separately to the fourth manual to solo out melodies of hymns or other innovative uses. In addition to having a complete principal chorus, the Antiphonal also boasts a “Diapason Celeste.” While a Voce Umana or a Fiffaro might be common in Italian organs, a stop such as this is rarely found on English-inspired American organs. Furthermore, this stop is indeed an open, full-bodied, English-style Diapason. Though its use in repertoire is extremely rare (it is likely not the sound Frescobaldi had in mind!), it is incredibly useful in improvisations. The sound of this celeste is rich and embodying. Indeed, the entire instrument draws a new level of musicality and creativity from those fortunate to play it, and it is the prayerful congregant who receives the greatest benefit.

The people of Good Shepherd take great pride in our choir program, which has attained a high degree of international recognition over the past decade. Attention to and participation in congregational hymn singing is now at an all-time high for this parish. Now that this glorious instrument is in place, matching the beauty of the choir, the architectural environment, and the mighty singing of the congregation, we eagerly anticipate reaching new heights in our spiritual and musical journeys, and discovering new ways in which we are all able to see glimpses of heaven right here on earth.

—John Linker

 

From the organ committee

The organ committee consisted of a cross-section of the congregation, Dr. Schuyler W. Robinson, professor of organ at the University of Kentucky, and our church organist/choirmaster. The committee’s charge was to determine the type, size, and placement of the future instrument, and to set the budget. Its most important task was to find the perfect fit between the church and the company selected to build the instrument. The committee hired a consultant to help it identify the best North American organ builders, and we invited five of them to Lexington to present preliminary designs and cost estimates for the project. The committee then sent our two organists to play instruments representative of each builder. 

After careful deliberation, we chose Goulding & Wood of Indianapolis. Their plan was exciting and seemed to fit our needs perfectly. When the instrument was ready for installation, Goulding & Wood issued an invitation to the congregation to come to their workshop in Indianapolis to hear the organ before their team dismantled it and began to transfer it to Lexington. A few weeks later, the first pipes arrived and were paraded into the nave of the church, led by our bagpiper, and were blessed during a short service. The new and exciting musical voice of the Church of the Good Shepherd is a dream come true.

—J. R. Jones

Organ Committee Chair

 

From the rector

One of the real gifts of the Episcopal/Anglican tradition is the ability to keep a healthy tension between tradition and change. At Good Shepherd, the arrival of Goulding & Wood Opus 50 (the “Miller and Wrigley Organ”) is a fine example of that gift. 

The builders from Goulding & Wood were very sensitive to the change that takes place when an instrument like this is placed in an historic space. Throughout the weeks of building on site, we welcomed parishioners and community members to visit our church during construction. Numerous photographs and videos, both formal and informal, were taken to record the work. Even though the builders were guests to our space, they served as good hosts, as long-time members and newcomers asked questions while the installation process unfolded. 

Now that it is in place, the organ appears to have always been in our liturgical space. The antiphonal division now frames the glorious Abbott Window in the rear of the church and accentuates the colors of the stained glass. The new organ has also already been a catalyst for more vigorous congregational singing. The old organ console has been refashioned to make a smaller altar for our Sunday evening Eucharist. 

We are all blessed to be a part of Good Shepherd’s story at this time. The Miller and Wrigley Organ, while new, affirms the great strengths of traditional Anglican worship. Because of its incredible versatility, this instrument will serve as an anchor as we expand the musical life of the parish in arts offerings to the Lexington community. 

—The Rev’d Brian Cole

John Bishop

 

Blest be the tie that binds

Our hearts in Christian love;

The fellowship of kindred minds

Is like to that above.

 

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

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

 

Writing a limerick’s absurd,

Line one and line five rhyme in word,

And just as you’ve reckoned, 

Both rhyme with the second;

The fourth line must rhyme with the third.

 

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

 

There once was a fellow named Beebe,

Planned to marry a woman named Phoebe,

He said, “I must see 

What the minister’s fee be,

Before Phoebe be Phoebe Beebe.”

§

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

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

 

Some people I hang with are jocks

With an aura of dirty white socks.

When they ask me to play

I say, “Maybe some day.

But my principal passion is rocks.”

§

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

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

 

We’re gathered to talk about boats.

At our meetings, we never take notes.

We organize races

In watery places,

And officers win with most votes.

§

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

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

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

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

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

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

Feel free to continue with new categories!

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

Jennifer’s article concluded:

 

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

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

 

Everybody sing (add another syllable!):

 

We’re glad to have all that publicity.

Helps preserving works of historicity.

She wrote in the paper

’Bout that tricky caper;

By writing, she joined in complicity.  

§

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

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

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

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

Everybody sing:

 

The choirboys all had to stand,

At a wave of the organist’s hand.

But Charlie had noted

And later he wroted

That dear Mr. Biggs had been canned.

§

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

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

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

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

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

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

§

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

 

The limerick packs laughs anatomical

In a space that is most economical.

But the good ones I’ve seen 

So seldom are clean, 

And the clean ones so seldom are comical!

The limerick is furtive and mean.

You must keep her in close quarantine.

Or she sneaks to the slums

And promptly becomes

Disorderly, drunk, and obscene.

 

(Modulate up a step, kindred minds.)

 

The next time we’re sitting at table,

And finish the sharing of fable,

We’ll pour from the jugs

And hoist up our mugs,

Sharing limericks as rude as we’re able.

Spreckels Outdoor Organ at 100 years

In summer 2001, I had just finished my doctorate at the Manhattan School of Music and was living in New York City when I read about an open position in San Diego as civic organist. I applied along with a hundred other organists. I love all kinds of music and just knew this was the job for me because that is just what the Spreckels Organ venue is about: music for all people of the world.

I was appointed Civic Organist and Artistic Director of the Spreckels Organ Society in October 2001. This venue demands a versatile music program every Sunday or the seats become empty. Little did I know that I was in for a roller-coaster ride of hard work. I soon found my footing as a self-appointed ambassador of the Spreckels Organ. As a concertizing organist, I encourage people to engage in the salubrious sounds of the pipe organ, and in doing so, hopefully gain a larger audience. We have always been blessed with appreciation and support from the people of San Diego and all those that visit from around the world.

As the seventh civic organist of San Diego, another position I hold is to work with the Spreckels Organ Society in producing their International Summer Organ Festival each year from June through September. Since this organ was given to San Diego under the condition that they cannot charge admission, the Spreckels Organ Society was formed to preserve, promote, and program this organ. The society has transformed this civic organ with their volunteer efforts, raising money for a new console, additional ranks, and the continued maintenance; the organ has become a world-class instrument.

With the celebrations of the 100th anniversary of the organ, I wish to inform the reader of what has happened with the instrument and people who surround this venue.

When I began my tenure, I decided to have printed programs for every Sunday’s concert. The programs are always posted on the website the week before each performance, at www.spreckelsorgan.org. 

I truly believe that when this instrument was given by the Spreckels brothers, they intended to enrich the community—not just through organ concerts, but also by using the great organ to help others. On these lines, I decided a series of benefit concerts would be a worthy way to give back to the community.

With my love of animals, I started “Bark in Balboa Park,” and all the donations for that Sunday concert have gone to the Humane Society of San Diego. They always bring animals and boutique items and this has turned into a family event. In 2015 we will have our tenth anniversary of this event.

Every January 1—whatever day of the week it falls on—we do an extra 2 p.m. concert, and this event will benefit a worthy charity in the San Diego area.

This year, I will do my second 12-hour organ marathon to raise money for our wounded vets. All donations will go to CAF’s Operation Rebound—a fantastic organization in San Diego. 

We are now live streaming the Sunday and Monday concerts. This was a dream I had a while ago, and I must thank the Spreckels team for making this happen.

If you have never visited this venue, then may I suggest you add the place to your “bucket list?” San Diego is a beautiful city and Balboa Park is the heart of the environment.

I have made wonderful friends with my predecessors. Here are some thoughts from key people around the organ.

Dr. Carol Williams, melcot.com 

San Diego Civic Organist 

Artistic Director, Spreckels Organ Society 

 

A history of the venue and its people

The Spreckels Outdoor Organ and Pavilion was a most remarkable gift to the City of San Diego. It was a daring and courageous concept to think that a pipe organ could sound into the open air and that programs could be played throughout the year. That it is in outstanding use and condition for a full one hundred years is truly extraordinary. Seven Official Civic Organists (the correct title for the post) have served in all kinds of weather and performed all kinds of music, transcriptions, classical, and theatrical, and given to the general public the joy of a municipal organ. This writer has heard all seven of these musicians play and would like to express a few thoughts on each of these fine persons.

Humphrey John Stewart came to play as the 1915 Panama-California Exposition Organist, and then again in 1916 when the Exposition became International, and continued as the Official City Organist until his death on the 28th of December 1932. During the more than nine thousand concerts played almost daily by Dr. Stewart, he used colorful registrations and often concluded with a grand improvisation. The writer’s mother took her son to his programs! 

Royal Albert Brown had assisted Dr. Stewart and was appointed as the “Civic” organist in 1933. Except during the years of the Second World War, he played four times each week and all public holidays until his passing on October 28, 1954. 

Charles Rollin Shatto served from fall 1954 until late summer of 1957 and introduced many contemporary French organ composers. 

Douglas Ian Duncan had grown up hearing the park organ; when faced with its possible closure, he returned the programming to a lighter fare in the style of Mr. Brown. 

Jared Jacobsen became the Fifth Official Civic Organist in 1978 and is remembered for his brilliant playing and insightful historic comments. He served until 1984. 

Robert Plimpton became the sixth to serve the post, playing for well over sixteen years. His extensive musical background, having served in very important church positions, brought to Balboa Park a most extensive repertory. 

The seventh and current artist is Carol Anne Williams, the first woman to serve as a municipal organist. She has built on the past devotion of those who served before her and has carried the concerts to new heights.

The gift of John D. and Adolph B. Spreckels resounds loud and clear, in rain and cold, fair and warm days, giving its hometown a rich century of musical enjoyment and treasure. 

Douglas Ian Duncan 

Fourth Official Civic Organist

(1957–78, Retired)

 

Reflections on the Spreckels Organ, 1978–1984

My first encounter with the remarkable outdoor organ in the heart of Balboa Park was early in 1978. I had moved to San Diego eighteen months earlier, fresh out of graduate school, to serve an Episcopal parish in La Jolla that had just installed a new and very nice Austin organ; its curator, Lyle Blackinton, also took care of the 1915 Spreckels instrument. When it became apparent that the civic organist position might be opening up there, Lyle arranged for me to have some hands-on time.

I distinctly remember the hiss of sprinklers nourishing morning-sun-dappled grass as I parked my car behind the organ pavilion that first time (a sound that has welcomed me back every time in the ensuing thirty-six years). From the moment I sat at the Spreckels console, I felt at home there, and just a few months later, after an extensive audition process, I was named the Fifth Civic Organist of the City of San Diego, a post I was privileged to hold for the next seven years. It was my, and our city’s, great good fortune that my predecessor Douglas Ian Duncan had stubbornly refused to allow both the instrument and civic position to fade away during an especially stressful time in its history, enabling me to continue his stewardship and to continue building attendance and enthusiasm.

Shortly after I began my tenure two major arson fires were set within a month of each other, in the Aerospace Museum and the historic Old Globe Theatre, both near the Organ Pavilion. In the aftermath of these fires great interest began building to assess and then preserve the unique heritage of all of the buildings from the world’s fair for which the park was created in 1915. (Only the Spreckels Organ Pavilion and the nearby Museum of Man were originally intended to be permanent; San Diego’s benign climate had assisted in preserving all of the rest.) A citizens’ group called The Committee of 100 stepped forward with the intention of preserving this heritage, and one of their first projects was the refurbishment of the Organ Pavilion, including the replacement of the existing organ console which, while not quite “at death’s door,” was nonetheless showing its age. The Austin firm was commissioned to build this replacement, which then served us ably until 2010. After much lively discussion, Lyle Blackinton and I seized the opportunity to make preparations on the 1980 console for some judicious tonal additions—not to alter the original grand sound of the instrument, but to enhance its tonal palette. These additions were eventually realized through the efforts of the Spreckels Organ Society, a grass-roots enthusiast group chartered in 1987 to support the original vision of the Spreckels brothers in ways unable to be accomplished by the City of San Diego.

So what is it like to play the Spreckels Organ? Playing a vast variety of organ literature while directly enjoying San Diego’s renowned year-round climate is fantastic. And the occasional frustration of presenting music with no traditional supporting acoustic is more than balanced by the daily opportunity to bring new listeners to the pipe organ. (Balboa Park is a vast public space in the center of a great metropolitan area; every time you fire up the organ, even in the wee hours of the morning, a hundred listeners will materialize out of the trees to cheer you on!) The core instrument from 1915 retains its original visceral thrill, with the oh-so-carefully-chosen later additions lending extra purr and growl, whimsy and fireworks as desired. After 99-plus years, the unique and historic Spreckels Outdoor Organ continues to be a favorite venue for all who encounter it.

Jared Jacobsen

Fifth Official Civic Organist (1978–84)

 

The formation of the Spreckels Organ Society

I began my relationship with the Spreckels organ in June 1984 when Civic Organist Jared Jacobsen resigned to take a church music position in the San Francisco Bay area. As an east coast classical organist, I admit to being not much interested in a 1915 outdoor orchestral organ designed to entertain Sunday audiences in a city park. But I reluctantly agreed to fill in as interim while the city sought a successor.

The civic organist was an independent contractor with a purchase order from the city for 52 Sunday concerts. I had barely begun when curator Lyle Blackinton mentioned that there was a tradition of not having Sunday concerts in February and using those on four Monday evenings in August. My second full month in the job found me playing eight totally different programs on four Sunday afternoons and four Monday evenings. The difference between Sunday afternoon and Monday evening was huge: Monday evening audiences were much more intentional; a greater dynamic range of the organ could be used in the cooler evening air, inviting more serious repertoire.

Jared Jacobsen had built a loyal following of organ fans who began asking why we couldn’t do “more.” The City of San Diego offers a special use permit to organizations to develop programming for the benefit of the public, using the city facilities without charge. It was obvious that such an organization was needed to expand the use of the Spreckels Organ. I phoned the people who expressed an interest in the organ and invited long-time friend Vivian Evenson to chair the effort. We met in February 1988, adopting the name Spreckels Organ Society, naming Vivian Evenson Founding President and the others Founding Trustees. We immediately wrote our bylaws and established ourselves as a non-profit charity with the IRS and the State of California. We were an official arm of the San Diego Park and Recreation Department. 

Our initial projects were to expand the number of summer Monday evening concerts, restore the February Sunday afternoon concerts, design publicity cards to be distributed in hotel tourist racks, work with the San Diego public schools to present a 45-minute concert every Friday to fifth-graders participating in a week-long Balboa Park program, establish a membership base, and actively recruit financial support. We defined our mission: “to preserve, program and promote the Spreckels Organ as a world-treasure for all people.”

In the beginning we barely paid more than the city’s budgeted $100 per concert. As support grew we were gradually able to pay better fees and enhance the position of Civic Organist/Artistic Director. Within a few years our International Summer Organ Festival became a major part of San Diego’s cultural life, attracting audiences of 2,000 or more each week. Performers and repertoire were chosen to represent the widest possible cultural diversity. We commissioned new music and collaborated with other performing arts groups. I am honored to have had a small part in fulfilling the vision of the donor John D. Spreckels, who gave this organ “for the free use and enjoyment…of the people of all the world.” I thank all who have worked to expand this vision.

Robert Plimpton

Sixth Official Civic Organist (1984–2000) 

 

From the Curator

The Spreckels Organ has played an important part in my life, as it was this instrument that captured my interest in the “King of Instruments” when I first heard it as an eleven-year-old in 1948. I began working as an apprentice to the previous curator Leonard Dowling in 1954 and took over the position in 1974. 

During these past sixty years I have had the privilege to hear all of the civic organists, except for the first, Humphrey Stuart. Each of these artists played an important part in the organ reaching its centennial year.

The City of San Diego also must be commended for its one hundred years of support for the position of Civic Organist and for the on-going maintenance of the organ and pavilion. Many municipalities have let famous instruments slip into disrepair and have ultimately been abandoned. 

The organ has also benefited from the generosity of local support groups such as The Committee of 100 and the Spreckels Organ Society who have partnered with the City to preserve and program this great instrument.

During my tenure as curator, it has been my goal to preserve the historic integrity of the original symphonic organ and also ensure that the subsequent additions made be done in a seamless manner that enhances this grand instrument. As the Spreckels Organ celebrates its centennial anniversary, it seems appropriate that after forty years as the curator of the organ that it is now time pass the position to my long-time associate, Dale Sorenson, who also shares a great passion for the instrument.

Lyle Blackinton

Curator, Spreckels Organ, 1974–2014

 

The Spreckels Organ Society comes of age in time for the Centennial Celebration.

The great Spreckels Organ and Pavilion have been at the heart of Balboa Park and San Diego, California, ever since brothers John D. and Adolph Spreckels gave the “citizens of San Diego and the world” this wonderful gift on December 31, 1914. The organ has been in almost continuous use since that time. Its programming and maintenance were entirely the responsibility of the City of San Diego until 1988, when the civic organist, Robert Plimpton, and a small group of enthusiastic supporters of the organ organized the Spreckels Organ Society (SOS), “to preserve, program and promote the Spreckels Organ.”

SOS started with a small, dedicated Board of Trustees, some basic bylaws, and a big vision. We wanted more and more people to hear the organ, appreciate its vast capacity to produce a broad range of sonic experiences, and educate our children on the joys of music in general and the sounds achievable through the unamplified workings of this fabulous instrument. Our first summer, in addition to the regular Sunday afternoon free concerts, we programmed four Monday evening free concerts—showcasing artists from outside San Diego, with national and international reputations.

Through the years since 1988, SOS has grown steadily, in membership, budget, and in outreach. The International Summer Organ Festival features at least ten separate concerts, and the very best organists from around the world take the stage under the warm skies of Balboa Park every summer and thrill our ever growing audiences. The Spreckels Organ itself has grown with the addition of new ranks and new percussion. Our beloved civic organist, Dr. Carol Williams, performs, composes, and supervises the programming. The Centennial Celebration Concert was a once-in-a-lifetime event recalling our rich history and celebrating a revitalized, expanded organ, soon to be the World’s Largest Outdoor Pipe Organ once again.

As the Spreckels Organ turns 100, the Spreckels Organ Society reaches a new level of maturity. Through steady support of our trustees, our patrons, our volunteers, and our generous audience members, SOS is able to hire a full-time Executive Director, who has the happy task, with an enthusiastic Board of Trustees, of guiding SOS into the second 100 years. As we like to say, “Together we made it happen.”

George Hardy 

President, Spreckels Organ Society

 

Cover photo: Representing the Spreckels Organ Society is George Hardy, president of the Spreckels Organ Society, and representing the City of San Diego is San Diego Civic Organist Carol Williams (photo credit: Robert E. Lang, Spreckels Organ Society).

Article arranged and compiled by Kerry Bell.

John Bishop

The secret of life

Donald Hall is an American writer. Because he’s Wendy’s client, I’ve met him several times. He was born in 1928 and last saw a barber or handled a razor at least ten years ago. He published an essay in the June 12, 2013, issue of The New Yorker with the title “Three Beards,” in which he chronicled his long relationship with facial hair. It begins:

 

In my life I have grown three beards, covering many of my adult faces. My present beard is monumental, and I intend to carry it to my grave. (I must avoid chemotherapy.)

 

It concludes: 

 

As I decline more swiftly toward the grave I have made certain that everyone knows—my children know, Linda knows, my undertaker knows—that no posthumous razor may scrape my blue face.

 

In 2011, Wendy accompanied Hall to the White House, where President Obama awarded him the National Medal of Arts. (That’s the same day she chatted with Van Cliburn, as noted in the May 2014 installment of this column.) The neatly trimmed and dapper President met the self-styled Methuselah. 

Donald Hall lives in the New Hampshire farmhouse that was built by his grandfather, whom he helped harvesting hay. Today, hay is harvested by powerful and intricate machines that spit out neatly tied bales in the wake of a tractor. (Hay bales are legitimately held together with baling wire.) Donald Hall, then a child, and his grandfather did it with scythes, pitchforks, and horse-drawn carts. And that’s the way he writes—the old-fashioned way.

He has published dozens of books of poetry, and dozens more of non-fiction, memoirs, and collections of essays. He has written hundreds of articles of literary criticism and countless essays for many publications. And his lifelong collection of thousands of letters to and from other literary and artistic giants will be the grist of many future dissertations. He writes in longhand and dictates into a tape recorder, and leaves a briefcase on his front porch every morning for his typist who lives across the road, who in turn leaves a corresponding case of typed manuscripts.

When we were first dating, Wendy shared Donald Hall’s memoir Life Work with me (Beacon Press, 1993). At 124 pages, it’s an easy read, but when he describes his process, you feel obligated to read it again, and then again. He writes drafts. There were fifty-five drafts of that essay about beards, and there are hundreds of drafts for some of his poems. He started working on his poem Another Elegy in 1982, and put it away, disgusted, in 1988 after more than five hundred drafts. He numbers the drafts. In 1992, he picked it up again, wrote thirty more drafts, then showed it to his wife, the poet Jane Kenyon, “who remembered the old one; her response encouraged me.” As he brought it toward conclusion, he woke many days before the alarm, jumping out of bed to start writing, but reminding himself that “You felt like this, about this same poem, a hundred times between 1982 and 1988.”

In Life Work, Donald Hall writes about his grandparents’ work ethics, about baseball players’ dedication to their work, and of course about his own routine, but he makes it clear that hates the phrase “work ethic.” Shortly after leaving the security of a professorship at the University of Michigan to move to the farm with Jane to support himself with his own writing, he attended his Harvard class (1951) reunion where he found himself complimented over and over about his self-discipline. He responded, “If I loved chocolate to distraction, would you call me self-disciplined for eating a pound of Hershey’s Kisses before breakfast?” He simply loves the process of moving words about, mining the English language, dog-earing his beloved Oxford English Dictionary—no matter what it takes to get it right to his own ears.

One of the principal characters in Life Work is the British sculptor Henry Moore. They met in 1959 when Hall was commissioned to write a magazine piece about Moore, and Hall was moved and inspired by Moore’s approach to his work. There was always a sketchpad at hand, there were studios scattered about the property allowing work at different stages to proceed concurrently, and when in his seventies, Moore built a new studio next to the house allowing him to spend another hour at work after dinner. The last time they were together, when Moore was eighty, Hall asked him, “What is the secret of life?” Moore’s response:

“The secret of life is to have a task, something you devote your entire life to, something you bring everything to, every minute of the day for your entire life. And the most important thing is—it must be something you cannot possibly do!”

 

Wrapped around a monument

Last week, the Parisian organist Daniel Roth played a recital at Church of the Resurrection in New York where a couple years ago, the Organ Clearing House renovated, expanded, and installed a Casavant organ built in 1915. It was a treat and a thrill to be around him for a couple days as he prepared and presented his program, and I particularly enjoyed a conversation in which he gave some deeper insight into the heritage of the magnificent Cavaillé-Coll organ at St. Sulpice in Paris, where he has been titulaire since 1985. His three immediate predecessors were Jean-Jacques Grunenwald, Marcel Dupré, and Charles-Marie Widor—four tenures that span nearly a hundred-fifty years. 

Those four organists are identified by their relationships with that organ. Their improvisations and compositions have been inspired by its beautiful tones and enabled by the ingenious mechanical registration devices built in 1862, maintained to this day in their original condition. Roth confirmed the legend that Widor’s original appointment was temporary, and though it was never officially renewed or confirmed, he held the position for sixty-seven years. I’ve known this tidbit for years, but Daniel Roth shared some skinny.

Aristide Cavaillé-Coll was a tireless champion of his own work. He was disappointed in the general level of organ playing in Paris in the late 1860s, but was enthralled by performances by Jacques-Nicolas Lemmens, the professor of organ at the Royal Conservatory of Brussels, who first played recitals in Paris during a tour in 1850. Widor was born in Lyon into a family of organbuilders and Cavaillé-Coll was a family friend. It was he who arranged for Widor to study with Lemmens, and the twenty-five year old Widor was Cavaillé-Coll’s candidate for the vacant position at St. Sulpice.

As a reflection of the political and even racial tensions leading up to the Franco-Prussian War (1870–1871), Widor’s detractors competing for the important position claimed he played like a German! (Quelle horreur!) The rector compromised by appointing Widor for one year.

Hundreds of American organists have been treated to Daniel Roth’s hospitality at the console of that landmark organ, hearing his improvisations and compositions, and his interpretations of the immense body of music produced by his predecessors. My conversations with him last week reminded me of that quote from Henry Moore. When a great musician spends a lifetime with a great organ, does that qualify as something to which you devote your life, but cannot possibly do?

Opera vitae

The mid-twentieth century renaissance in American organbuilding has given us a bevy of small companies building organs under the name of their founders. Among these, C. B. Fisk, Inc. is notable, in that the legendary Charlie Fisk passed away relatively young, and the work of his company has been continued by his co-workers—dare I say disciples? But when I think of names like Wolff, Wilhelm, Noack, Brombaugh, and the double-teaming Taylor & Boody, I think of these men, now elderly, retired, or deceased, who have had long careers personally producing many instruments with the help of their small and talented staffs. I think Fritz Noack is in the lead. His company was founded in 1960 and has completed nearly 160 organs. Nice work, Fritz, quite a fleet. Imagine seeing them all in a row. 

Considering all the effort and expertise involved in selling, planning, designing, building, and installing a pipe organ, I marvel at what Fritz and his colleagues have accomplished personally, with a lot of help from their friends. That’s work to which you devote your life, but cannot possibly do.

 

What was the question?

An old family friend is an expert in “heat transfer”—how heat moves from one mass to another, from a mass to a gas, or any other way heat moves around. One evening sitting with drinks in my parents’ living room and staring at the burning fireplace, I asked him, “Just what is fire?” He told me that it’s a chemical reaction. Yes, but what is it? I never did get an answer I could understand. I think he thought I was a bit of a prig, and I think I was asking a question that couldn’t be answered.

The more you know about the organbuilding trade, the more you realize you don’t know. Building pipe organs is a profession that remains mysterious to its most experienced practitioners. How does that air get from one place to another inside the organ? How does that thin sheet of pressurized air passing through the mouth of an organ pipe turn into musical tone? And how do those tones blend so beautifully with each other? How do we move such volumes of air silently? We have answers that refer to the laws of physics, but like my question about fire, they seem unanswerable. I’ve come to think that all you can do is know the questions and keep working to achieve better understanding of how to answer them. It’s work to which you devote your life, but cannot possibly do.

 

Go Daddy, go.

My father passed away at home on April 8, about six weeks shy of his ninetieth birthday. He was born four years before Donald Hall. He had a stroke a few months before from which he had largely recovered, although the gorgeous handwriting for which he was well known was gone. A vicious headache, which may have been another stroke, was our signal that the end was near. His doctor helped us establish home hospice care, and after about a week of comforting medication and declining consciousness he was gone. My three siblings and I, and our spouses, managed to gather during that week along with lots of the grandchildren. My brother Mark and his wife Sarah, my wife Wendy, and my mother Betsy were with Dad at his moment of death. Coincidentally, I was at work in St. Paul’s Cathedral in Boston, where my parents were married almost fifty-nine years ago.

The Rev. John J. Bishop was ordained an Episcopal priest in the Diocese of Massachusetts in 1952, and all the parishes he served were in that diocese. Everyone called him Jack. He served as rector of churches in Somerville and Westwood before he was called to be rector of the Parish of the Epiphany in Winchester, where he served from 1966 until his retirement in 1989. That was when my parents moved to the newly renovated and expanded family summer home on Cape Cod. After that retirement, he served as interim rector at churches in Dedham, Woods Hole, Falmouth, Provincetown, and Belmont. In December of 2012, the Parish of the Epiphany hosted a celebratory Eucharist honoring the sixtieth anniversary of his ordination.

My father grew up in Cincinnati, Ohio, as a member of Christ Church, which is now the Cathedral of the Diocese of Southern Ohio. Our grand colleague and mentor Gerre Hancock was organist and choirmaster there in the 1960s. Dad had recordings of that church’s Boar’s Head Festival led by Gerre Hancock—the first improvisations I ever heard. As he grew up in Ohio in the 1920s and ’30s, some of the liberal causes for which he was later known hadn’t been contemplated, but before he was finished, my father had championed civil rights, social justice, the ordination of women, and
same-sex marriages.

The Rev. Jeanne Sprout was the first woman to be ordained in the Diocese of Massachusetts. Her ordination in 1977 happened at the Parish of the Epiphany in Winchester as she joined the staff there. And Dad chaired the steering committee that nominated Barbara Harris as the first female bishop in the Anglican Communion. As interim rector in Provincetown, he blessed same-sex unions many years before the ruling of the Massachusetts Supreme Judicial Court that made them legal as marriages ten years ago. During his adolescence in Ohio and while serving in the United States Army during World War II, he would never have imagined such a thing.

At the height of the Vietnam War, the parish’s associate rector Michael Jupin participated in a widely reported protest on the steps of Boston’s Arlington Street Church, placing his draft card in an offering plate in the hands of William Sloane Coffin, pastor of New York’s Riverside Church, and activist and pediatrician Benjamin Spock. This created a firestorm in the then conservative parish (Winchester was cited as the town where the politics met the zip code: Zero-1890). The wardens approached my father, demanding to know “how to get rid of Jupin,” as important pledge-units left the parish in droves. Dad’s immediate answer was, “you get rid of the rector.” He told us later about that crisis in his career and the life of that church, how he sat alone in his car weeping, wondering what to do, and how he sought the council of his bishop, who encouraged him to “stand in the midst of those people and lead.”

Through all of that, Dad remained devoted to the traditions and liturgy of the Anglican Communion. He was a strong supporter of the music of the church, and during his tenures, the parishes in Westwood and Winchester both purchased organs from Charles Fisk. I remember the thrill of using my newly acquired adult voice, singing in harmony accompanied by orchestra as the adult choir presented Bach’s Cantata 140, Wachet auf, ruft uns die Stimme. 

Dad understood the importance of the “theater” of liturgy. My childhood friends who were acolytes laugh today about how they were terrified of “blowing it” around Rev. Bishop. He needed it to be right. He led worship and celebrated the Eucharist with enthusiasm and joy—his “church voice” was nothing like his everyday voice. The crisp cadence and musical intonation of his delivery of the Prayers of Consecration are still in my ears, and remain my ideal. He really celebrated communion.

I’ve spent many days working as an organbuilder in churches of the Episcopal Diocese of Massachusetts. Often, when I’m introduced to a rector, I’ve heard, “There’s a priest in this diocese with that name,” followed by unsolicited tributes. It’s been wonderful to hear accounts of my father’s work from so many different sources. I’m grateful for Dad’s encouragement and inspiration.

 

What a weekend.

Today is Monday. Dad’s memorial service was Saturday. There were four bishops and twenty priests in robes up front and the pews were full of family, friends, and parishioners from across the diocese and around the world, and plenty more priests. In a piece included in the leaflet for Dad’s memorial service, I wrote, “The definition is ‘Great excitement for or interest in a cause.’ It’s from the Greek root, enthousiasmos, which came from the adjective entheos, ‘having God within.’ Enthusiasm.” That is the way he lived his life, inspiring people, encouraging them to think and grow, and sharing his love for the church, for better or for worse.

That’s work to which you devote your life, but cannot possibly do.

Of course I’m sad. Of course I miss him. But when a man lives such a long and productive life, has nearly sixty years of marriage, sees four children grow up, knows ten adult grandchildren, and with our grandson Ben, knew his first great-grandchild, we can only be grateful.

Yesterday, we interred Dad’s ashes. There were about thirty of us at the end of the boardwalk over the marshes that led to Dad’s favorite Cape Cod swimming hole. As the last of the ashes sprinkled into the water I blurted out, “Go daddy, go.” ν

John Bishop

Once you’ve seen the best, there’s only the rest.

So many things, so many concepts, so many ideas today are labeled “the best” or “the greatest” that I sometimes wonder if we can still recognize real greatness. We speak in superlatives as if there was no other class. “This is the best cheese I’ve ever tasted,” lasts only until tomorrow when I get lucky enough to have a bite of something different. “Oh my God, it was the best movie ever.” And get the emphasis of punctuation: “Oh. My. God.” You set yourself up as the authority, as if no other opinion has value. Invoking the Deity is a tactic for substantiating overstatement.

“Of all time” is a common lead-in for overstatement. “He was the best quarterback of all time.” “She was the best actress of all time.” Maybe, but most of the time, I doubt it. You could make a perfectly legitimate claim a little less sweeping by starting with “I think,” as in, “I think that was a great play.” Fair enough; I’ll buy that. I think it was a great play, too, but neither of us are qualified to continue with “of all time.” “I really enjoyed that play,” isn’t forceful enough, somehow.

The search for “the best” or “the most” is a universal mantra, accompanied on television by triumphant music and the forceful voice of a male announcer. Anthony Bourdain travels the world looking for the most unusual meal. ABC Sports searches for the most dangerous ski slope. Sports Illustrated searches for the best swimsuit model. Stand them next to each other and they all look just fine.

Having worked as an organbuilder and an organist for more than forty years, I understand how people unfamiliar with the field are surprised and even baffled when they encounter it. The third or fourth exchange when you’re meeting someone for the first time at a party is “What do you do for a living?” “I’m a pipe organ builder.” “A pipe organ builder? I didn’t know there were any of you left.”

Once we get past a few pleasantries, an inevitable question is, “What’s the best organ in the world?” That’s a better question than asking after the biggest organ, which is easier to answer but usually leads to sniggering.

§

Wow! What is the best organ in the world? How in the world can I answer? Is it up to me to judge? What are the criteria? What are the variables? Can I break it into subsets like the best German organ, the best French organ, the best tracker-action organ? Do we need to know the best, or can we be happy with a list of “great” organs?

 

To be the best, must it be the biggest?

The Wanamaker Grand Court Organ is the largest “fully operational” organ in the world. According to the website of the Friends of the Wanamaker Organ, it has six manuals, 463 ranks, and 28,677 pipes. This compares to the Boardwalk Hall Auditorium Organ in Atlantic City (not fully operational, but restoration work is under way), with seven manuals, 449 ranks, and 33,114 pipes. So if you’re counting by ranks, Wanamaker wins by 14, and if you’re counting by pipes, Atlantic City wins by 4,437 (the size of an organ with more than 70 ranks!).

When I was a naïve and budding organ-guy, deep in the thrall of the tracker-action revival in Boston in the 1970s, I knew vaguely about the Wanamaker organ, touted as the largest organ in the world. I understood that it was in poor condition—that a lot of it was unplayable. Hmmph, I thought in my infancy. What can being the largest have to do with being any good? It would be years before I actually saw, heard, and experienced the Wanamaker. By the time I made its acquaintance, enormous effort had been put toward bringing that massive instrument into good condition. And now I marvel at its artistic content every time I visit, which is ever more often.

I don’t know if it’s the best, but it sure is wonderful. A tour with curator Curt Mangel is a privileged walk through countless rooms crammed with pipes. Any tuner would quail at the parades of reeds and dozens of pairs of celestes. What a responsibility. And to witness Grand Court Organist Peter Richard Conte doing his thing (you really have to see it to believe what you’re hearing) is to witness a marriage of man and machine unparalleled in the human experience. Oops, I guess unparalleled is a superlative.

 

…Oldest?

Am I up to date? Is the little abbey organ built around 1390 in Sion, Switzerland, really the oldest in the world? E. Power Biggs taught me that with his 1967 recording, Historic Organs of Switzerland. I still have those bold tones and archaic tuning in my ears. Geoffrey Chaucer (1343–1400) wrote The Canterbury Tales around 1390. In one of those delightful narratives, The Nun’s Priest’s Tale, the main character was

 

A widow, poor and somewhat advanced in years, [who] dwelt once in a little cottage . . . By managing carefully what God sent, she provided for herself and her three daughters . . . her only treatment was a temperate diet, with exercise and heart’s content. The gout never kept her from dancing, nor did the apoplexy bother her head . . . She had a yard enclosed all around with sticks and a dry ditch, and in it she had a cock called Chanticleer. In all the land there was no match for his crowing; his voice was merrier than the merry organ that goes in the church on mass-days . . . *

 

Remember the wonderful carol with the refrain “O the rising of the sun, and the running of the deer, the playing of the merry organ, sweet singing in the Kwah!” Chaucer must have been referring to contemporary British organs, so we can assume a burgeoning pipe organ industry as Europe shook itself free of the Dark Ages. An organ built in 1390 that we can still play today? What a fabulous icon of human history. It has been rebuilt and expanded several times—its history seems to read “every hundred years or so, whether it needs it or not . . . ” What a treat to play on a musical instrument that’s 624 years old! Who cares if it’s any good?

 

…Most majestic?

One of the most familiar images of the pipe organ world is the lion-topped façade of the 1738 organ built by Christian Müller in St. Bavo Church in Haarlem, the Netherlands. The top of the case is nearly a hundred feet above the floor of the church, and the sounds of the organ are as vital, energetic, and expressive as any modern instrument. There’s a legend saying that Mozart played on this organ, and there are dozens of modern recordings available. The instrument is the centerpiece of the International Summer Academy for Organists, founded in 1955, and continuing today as a seminal educational experience for hundreds of musicians.

With just over 5,000 pipes, the Haarlem organ must have been one of the largest in the world when it was built, but today it represents only the difference in size between the Wanamaker and Atlantic City organs!

Studying the intricate details of the design and construction of this organ, it’s hard to believe that such a thing could have been built using available technology from the early eighteenth century. Think of the state of high culture in America at that time—what the fanciest colonial architecture was like. This organ is high on the list of doozies in the organ world. Does that make it best?

 

…Most influential?

Aristide Cavaillé-Coll completed the rebuilding and expansion of the organ at St. Sulpice in Paris in 1862. With five manuals and a hundred stops it was one of the largest organs in the world at that time. And with its myriad complex mechanical innovations, it was an eloquent statement of technology of the day. Charles-Marie Widor and Marcel Dupré combined their careers to serve this church for 101 years. The organ alone as a mechanical entity must be considered among the most elegant, expressive, and fiery instruments ever built. But when combined with its illustrious players—including present organists Daniel Roth and Sophie-Véronique Cauchefer-Choplin—it’s hard to imagine another church balcony that has housed and launched more extraordinary music. 

Widor (1844–1937) was born to a family of organbuilders. Cavaillé-Coll was a family friend who arranged for Widor to study with Jacques Nicolas Lemmens in Brussels. How many of us have played Lemmens’ Fanfare how many times? Maybe it’s unfair to use one piece to stand for a musician’s life work, but it’s a long way in sophistication from that Fanfare to Widor’s Symphonie Gothique or Symphonie Romane. Along with his organ symphonies, Widor produced dozens of orchestral works including symphonies and piano concertos, chamber music, piano music, and choral works. He was a prolific teacher whose students included Charles Tournemire, Louis Vierne, Darius Milhaud, and Alexander Schreiner. Widor’s lifelong relationship with the St. Sulpice organ must be one of the most important between musician and instrument in the history of music. 

Marcel Dupré (1886–1971) was also deeply influenced by Cavaillé-Coll’s masterpiece, and how many modern organists still living can claim to be his students and therefore students of that organ, whether in private lessons or master class. He died when I was in high school, and I never met him or heard him play. But I know he taught Jehan and Marie-Claire Alain, Jeanne Demessieux, Jean Guillou, Jean Langlais, and Olivier Messiaen. His weekly organ improvisations were legendary, raising the church of St. Sulpice to the level of organists’ pilgrimage—a tradition that remains more than forty years after his death. To this day, a knowing worshipper can quickly pick out the visiting organists, quivering and weeping in their seats.

 

…Most melodious?

Charles Brenton Fisk, aka Charlie, was a pioneer in the mid-twentieth century renaissance of classical styles of organ building. I was fortunate as a teenager growing up in Winchester, Massachusetts, to live within two blocks in opposite directions of two new Fisk organs. And I was fortunate to know Charlie at least a little. Charlie Fisk’s organs are lively and interesting. Many are controversial, especially because of their sonic power. His thrilling Opus 82, installed in Christ United Methodist Church in Greensborough, North Carolina, must be one of the most powerful organs ever built, stop-for-stop.

Fisk’s Opus 55 is a modest three-manual organ of twenty-nine stops, built in 1971. It has a lovely case that includes architectural elements from a much older case by Boston organbuilder Thomas Appleton. It’s housed in a stately 1806 building in Boston’s West End. While its size, scope, and surroundings are nice enough, it would be an unremarkable organ except that it’s widely considered to be one of the finest organs in the world. Its solo voices and choruses combine proud fundamental tone with limpid harmonic structure to produce strikingly beautiful organ tone. 

Yuko Hayashi, the brilliant twentieth-century teacher of hundreds of important modern organists, became organist at Old West in 1973, at the suggestion of Charles Fisk. Yuko had been teaching organ at the New England Conservatory of Music since 1960 and was well known for her lyrical playing. Shortly after she started playing there, she brought the NEC organ class there for lessons, and from then until her retirement in 2001 many hundreds of our finest organists studied with Yuko on the organ at Old West Church. Since it was built, it has been one of the most heavily used organs in the country. Yuko once told me she believed that the organ sounded better the more it was played—that the passage of air through the pipes makes the pipes sound better. How’s that for spiritual?

 

…Most incensed?

According to Google Maps, the Church of the Advent in Boston is six-tenths of a mile from Old West Church. The Aeolian-Skinner organ at Church of the Advent, a product of the firm’s G. Donald Harrison era, is just as modest and ordinary on paper as the Fisk at Old West. It has fifty-seven stops on three manuals, and is installed in a chamber above the chancel that also speaks into the nave. Modest and ordinary, maybe, but there’s just something about it. Worshipping there with the inspired musical leadership that has always been a hallmark of the place is a Magical Mystery Tour. It would be a challenge to find another organ of this scale that could equal the seamless crescendos and decrescendos that accompany the singing of the choir. It would be a challenge to find another organ of this scale that could play so much of the organ repertory so effectively. In the intense and incensed smoke-filled room that is the Advent’s sanctuary, the architectural borders between instrument and building are as elusive as the musical borders between organ pipes and acoustics. It’s otherworldly.

If Old West Church is a mecca for beautiful organ tone, Church of the Advent is a mecca for the effect of a pipe organ on deep and sophisticated liturgically grounded worship. And you can walk from one to the other in just fifteen minutes.

 

…Most seminal?

I’m stuck in a rut along the Charles River in Boston, which is just a long block from Church of the Advent. (By the way, the home of Joseph Whiteford, president of Aeolian-Skinner from 1956 until 1965, faces the Charles from one of the little neighborhoods near “The Advent.” It’s the one with the tapered front door!) From there it would take about an hour and a half to walk, but only ten minutes to drive to Adolphus Busch Hall, formerly known as the Busch-Reisinger Museum, and familiarly known to generations of organists and Harvard students as “The Busch.” Aeolian-Skinner had installed an experimental organ there in 1937, one that included classically inspired principal choruses, from which E. Power Biggs played many live radio broadcasts. Mr. Biggs commissioned the landmark Flentrop organ with his own money in 1958 and placed it on loan to Harvard University. He paid personally for its tuning and maintenance for the rest of his life and bequeathed the organ to the university after his death.

Like the organs at “Old West” and “The Advent,” the Flentrop in “The Busch” is of modest proportions—three manuals and twenty-seven stops. But simply to mention the extraordinary series of recordings Biggs made on that organ, E. Power Biggs Plays Bach Organ Favorites, is to acknowledge its importance. It still stands as the best-selling series of solo classical music recordings, an accurate and indisputable superlative. And while those performances are still controversial icons of the “organ wars,” his snappy and peppy readings of those classic pieces brought excellent playing of excellent organ music to the ears of millions around the world. Many of us were hearing “chiff” for the first time. To some it was clear and rhythmic, to others it sounded like hitting xylophone bars. Bach’s Jig Fugue brings popping popcorn to mind. The organ is fifty-six years old, and I love taking visiting friends to see it. They melt in its presence. 

 

…Most nostalgic?

I think that all of us who care about playing the organ have a favorite or two, and I, for one, have a list of organs I’ve loved since I was a kid. There are a couple in Yarmouthport on Cape Cod that I played (and practiced on) for hundreds of teenage summertime hours. There are a couple beauties by
E. & G.G. Hook that were within walking distance of my youthful home. And there are some, even those that fail to stand out as excellent examples of the art, where I had important experiences both personal and musical, where I heard great musicians play for the first time, where important milestones of my personal life and professional career are marked.

In fact, some of the worst organs I’ve seen have had the most impact on me, helping me understand in their negativity why excellence is so important.

Please don’t ask me to name the best organ in the world. If I’m lucky, I haven’t heard about it yet. And the organ to die for? It will be played at my funeral. Any takers? ν

 

Postscript:

While I’m always interested in good organs anywhere, in this writing I’ve focused on instruments that I think have served as more than just good organs. Each has had a special and wide influence on many musicians, and each has played a particular role in the history of our instrument. Organists go out of their way to experience them. When we think of the modern pipe organ, we can picture dozens, if not hundreds, of various forms, and each of these pivotal organs have played a part in that development. I’ve written this off the top of my head without research, so the list is in no way complete. I’m interested to hear from readers their suggestions of additions to this list. Please write me at [email protected] to share your thoughts.

Thank you for reading.

* Geoffrey Chaucer, The Nun’s Priest’s Tale. Translation by Gerard NeCastro, published as “eChaucer” by the University of Maine at Machias: http://machias.edu/faculty/necastro/chaucer/translation/ct/21npt.html.

Photo credits: William T. Van Pelt, except as noted. 

Matthew Power

Dobson Pipe Organ Builders, Lake City, Iowa

Opus 91, 2013

Merton College Chapel

Merton College

The University of Oxford, U.K.

 

by Matthew Power 

“That sweet city with her dreaming spires,” the words from Matthew Arnold’s elegy Thyrsis, are synonymous with Oxford. So too is its renowned university, the most ancient in the English-speaking world, first mentioned in records of the 11th century. The university has 38 self-governing and financially independent colleges plus six permanent private halls of Christian foundation. Founded in 1264 by Walter de Merton, sometime Chancellor of England and later Bishop of Rochester, Merton College was the first of Oxford University’s colleges to be fully self-governing; it contains the oldest quadrangle in the university, and now, the newest pipe organ, built by Dobson Pipe Organ Builders, Ltd. of Lake City, Iowa, and inaugurated in April 2014 as part of a year-long organ festival marking the college’s 750th anniversary. 

Benjamin Nicholas became joint director of music in 2008 alongside Peter Phillips, taking up the full-time position as Reed Rubin Organist and Director of Music in 2012. The dream of commissioning a new organ soon became a reality. Nicholas explains: 

 

In 2008 the choral scholarships were launched and it became clear that the existing J.W. Walker organ was either in need of a lot of work or replacement. The specification was good for the performance of baroque organ music but not much else, and we needed an organ capable of accompanying all the repertoire that a college choir needs to sing. The other inspiration came from the approaching 750th anniversary of the college. 

Once the decision had been made, a search began. A short-list of four builders emerged, with one firm each from England, Canada, Switzerland, and the United States. They all visited the college and submitted designs for instruments; it was Dobson’s overall concept and understanding of the space in the chapel, which enabled them to win the contract.

Ben Nicholas was joined by the Rev. Dr. Simon Jones, Merton College Chaplain, on a tour of eight Dobson instruments in the States, ranging from a modest church instrument to the large concert organ in the Kimmel Center, Philadelphia. “I loved the sound-world of all those instruments,” recalls Nicholas, “the warmth of their voicing and the way that Lynn Dobson had responded to whatever size room he was building for.” And the result? “The new organ has made a whole new repertoire possible—like the Parry Blest Pair of Sirens, sung at the dedication Evensong for the first time.”

Working overseas did not present a problem for the Dobson team, but the narrow cobbled streets of Oxford, and in particular Merton Street, did pose a challenge. The organ was delivered in a number of metal shipping containers and maneuvering these around corners involved the help of many people including the highways authority and the Oxford police! 

John Panning is tonal director at Dobson’s. I asked him how the organ’s position in the chapel affected the design of the instrument. “With an organ of much greater size than the previous one, there was concern that it shouldn’t have an overbearing presence in the ante chapel.” The organ stands in front of the west wall of the building facing into the quire, the other side of a screen designed in the 17th century by Sir Christopher Wren. 

 

There was an interest in revealing the ancient west window, some panes of which date from the 15th century. So we wanted to keep the organ as far west as possible, the case as low as we could, and the shape of the organ case was born out of these constraints. The casework could be described as “gothic style,” but of course no gothic organs of that size were built, so we had to invent a new grammar.

 

The casework has an elegant profile and a complex texture that invites viewing from many different angles. Unusual are the rows of painted wooden pipes set on the sides of the case, and appearing not unlike an English Tudor organ might have been. These are the basses of the Great 16-foot Bourdon, placed there to save space within, and to provide visual stimulation to, people entering the chapel. The casework is entirely the work of president and artistic director Lynn Dobson, from the initial designs to the ornate decoration. “The chapel itself reflects several periods of decoration,” says Panning, “from its gothic origins, to its classical screen and its 19th-century Victorian woodwork, and the organ case contains all these elements.”

Tonally the organ invites exploration of its stops in both their solo capacity, where distinctive characters emerge, and in ensemble where the blend is successful too. A danger that so-called “eclectic” organs risk is the ability to play any repertoire with only moderate success. The Dobson instrument must convince in all solo literature and its daily purpose is to accompany the chapel choir. What was the philosophy behind its tonal design? Panning explains: 

 

From the beginning an objective was to approach the organ as the servant of the choir. So many instruments of the last half-century were designed to interpret particular bodies of solo literature, and organs designed to accompany the liturgy were mainly overlooked. I find it remarkable that in Oxford there are very few organs that really could play a proper service. It is ironic though that what we [as American organ builders] consider to be our bread-and-butter work [building organs to accompany the liturgy] is hardly to be found even in the City of Oxford!

 

Of the instruments he has heard in the city, he reckons the organ in Wadham College Chapel, a relatively untouched “Father” Willis, achieves that best. Also, Kenneth Tickell’s recent instrument at Keble is in a similar vein to the Dobson at Merton in being able to adapt to all styles of music convincingly. 

 

This organ is built on a classical framework—the choruses of each division relate to one another; then it is enriched in a 19th-century fashion with colorful flutes, and reeds that have a more specific tonal direction. While there are some French reeds, there are also some closed shallots in stops where a French sound would overwhelm. The beautiful acoustic of the chapel made the voicer’s work very enjoyable.

 

When the chapel is not full, with perhaps 60 people present, the organ projects into the quire very much in the manner of an English cathedral instrument in scale and in how it supports the singing. Individual voices reveal a variety of characters, yet coalesce within the chorus with equal success. The Great division’s Harmonic Flute is a case in point; its generous soaring solo voice returns among the other foundation stops without obtruding. 

This tonal style seems to be what attracted Ben Nicholas and Simon Jones as they explored a variety of Dobson organs in the United States. What does Panning think they found? 

 

I think for them the aggregate was that these instruments were agreeable to play, with a tonal congeniality and you could imagine them accompanying choirs—that was the prime goal. The common thread found in all these instruments was of a “servant” rather than a “solo” organ.

 

Besides the new organ, an ambitious collection of new choral music has been commissioned and collected to form the Merton Choirbook. The idea was that of Michael Emery, a former organ scholar at Merton and senior producer of the BBC Singers, in conversation with Peter Phillips (known internationally as director of The Tallis Scholars, and appointed joint director of music alongside Ben Nicholas in 2008); Phillips retains his part-time post, conducting four services per term. Emery’s idea was to form a collection of new music to celebrate the 750th anniversary along the lines of the Eton Choirbook, including music by the finest composers of the day, mainly from Britain. For reasons of practicality the 50 pieces are all published individually by the composers’ respective publishers, and a single bound volume of the collection will be kept in Merton College Library. Premieres of all the works, mainly at Merton but elsewhere too, continue into 2015. 

The organ dedication concert was given on April 26 by John Scott (formerly director of music at St. Paul’s Cathedral, London, and now in his tenth year at St. Thomas Church Fifth Avenue, New York). Scott used a cleverly devised program to explore the facets of the Dobson organ as a solo instrument. A capacity audience packed every inch of the quire and spilled into the ante chapel. 

The program began with Modus Pleno Organo, a majestic treatment of the “Benedicamus Domino” plainchant and with unusual use of double pedal, implying gravitas from the outset. Sweelinck’s Fantasia Chromatica opened with the tone of what could have been a restrained English principal, with clear articulation and warm speech. This steadily lengthy fantasia was made continually interesting through Scott’s phrasing and pacing. Buxtehude’s D-minor Passacaglia was made to sound later in style with larger-scale fluework, the entrance of an 8-foot Pedal reed in the central section, and finishing with 8-foot and 4-foot flutes of fine clarity.

After tricky minimalistic palate-cleansing provided by Ad Wammes’s Toccata Chromatica (Echoes of Sweelinck), Scott delivered a flawless and compelling reading of J. S. Bach’s G-minor Fantasia and Fugue, revealing well-balanced independent parts. Scholars now think that the two movements only became the pair we know today much later (as with many of Bach’s preludes and fugues); reflecting this, Scott imaginatively interpolated the expressive Orgelbüchlein chorale prelude “Wenn wir in höchsten Nöthen sein.” 

The program changed tack with Franck’s third Choral, depicting a thick and powerful wall of sound from 8-foot reeds and fonds, and the very effective swell shutters came into their own. Peter Racine Fricker’s Pastorale exhibited the smaller reeds and tremulant, and its undulating textures benefited from Scott’s attention to detail and fine judgment in the long, perfectly balanced diminuendo at the end. A demanding syncopated Toccata by Simon Preston—who delighted the audience by emerging and taking a bow—contained scurrying pedal writing, which demonstrated quick speech. The program ended with a masterful rendition of Dupré’s Variations sur un Noël. Again, a perfectly good French timbre ensued, the large and characterful Harmonic Flute climbing high, and a final flourish was brought about by the celebratory Zimbelstern. 

The following day, a recital of baroque organ music, played by Benjamin Nicholas and organ scholars Anna Steppler (who graduated in 2013), Charles Warren, and Peter Shepherd, had a decent but by no means large audience. This gave the organ a chance to speak into the room as it will each day in term time accompanying Choral Evensong, its principal raison d’être. The tonal egress was certainly more substantial, the acoustical effect now of a cathedral rather than a chapel. The ubiquitous Toccata and Fugue in D Minor BWV 565 (attributed to J.S. Bach) was given a vibrant interpretation by Nicholas, especially in its imitative echo passages, and his rapid tempo still left room for some rhetorical surprises. Of particular note was the superb fluency and delivery of Anna Steppler’s Voluntary for a Double Organ (Purcell) and her musical phrasing in the Buxtehude Te Deum, which caused the work to sing. 

That Sunday evening, the Bishop of Oxford dedicated the instrument at Choral Evensong; the chapel was filled, with some members of the Dobson Pipe Organ Builders and their families in attendance. Canon Peter Moger, Precentor of York Minster, was the preacher, and the choir sang the Canticles in G (Howells), Blest Pair of Sirens (Parry), and the voluntary was Flourish for an Occasion (Harris). 

I ask John Panning what he and the Dobson team will take away from their encounter with Oxford. 

 

The opportunity to work in a space like Merton College Chapel is probably a once in a lifetime experience. It was an ideal situation; the college was extremely supportive, Paul Hale was an excellent organ advisor, understanding the technicalities and providing a bridge to the musicians at the college; he asked the right questions, not necessarily prescribing the answers. Ben Nicholas was very supportive and helped with suggestions during our work. The whole experience of building an organ at Oxford, and in a chapel with such beautiful acoustics—something that is rare for us to find in the States—was unforgettable. The inaugural weekend of concerts and services, especially John Scott’s recital and hearing the organ accompany the services, made for a very satisfying and emotional weekend.

 

Matthew Power gained an honors degree in music at London University and won the improvisation and composition competitions at Trinity College of Music, graduating with the Recital Diploma. He was Editor of Choir & Organ magazine for nine years, and works in London as a musician and writer.

Photo credits: Colin Dunn