Cover Feature

John Bishop takes on Facebook and wonders how it applies to organists

John Bishop

Facebooking the music

Fifty years ago when television was a fledgling technology, it was touted as a great educational tool. That has proven true to some extent, but I wonder how many of us think that education is the primary function of television. If you took away all the sports, movies, crime dramas, sitcoms, reality shows, and talk shows, you’d be left with the Home Shopping Network and children’s television. Children’s television, carefully filtered, is not far from the only programming that’s specifically intended as educational. Even PBS nature programming has evolved into “blood and guts” television. What used to be beautifully photographed documentaries about tree frogs has become action-terror shows about sharks, crocodiles, and volcanoes with that macho-tension-danger tone of narration. What if some future inter-stellar traveler used a week of television programming to sum up modern American civilization? He would miss the pipe organ altogether.

The origins of Facebook are pretty fuzzy, especially because there are ongoing disputes about who actually came up with the idea and who stole what from whom. But it’s clear enough that one of the early iterations called Facesmash included a trick where photos of two Harvard students showed on your screen and you would vote for which was more attractive. I think I read that Facesmash founder Mark Zuckerberg set this up because he was annoyed when a girl jilted him. This did not fly well at politically correct Harvard University and Zuckerberg was called up in front of the disciplinary board. 

All this implies that Facebook wasn’t founded on high moral principles, but it sure is a medium that is missing its potential by a wide margin. When Facebook started getting popular, I was aware that members of my family were making posts about having the sniffles, or changing brands of toothpaste, and I was easily able to stay clear. But once while I was out of town sharing a nice dinner with a colleague, he talked at some length about how much he enjoyed keeping in touch with what’s going on in the organ business by “Facebooking” with his friends. He showed me how friends were sharing ideas, posting photos of organ installations, and generally carrying on the kind of trade chatter that I love.

I joined. I made it clear to family members that I intended to keep my presence on Facebook professional, and now I have about eight hundred friends, most of whom are organ professionals. Even so, you’ll not be surprised to hear that plenty of my professional friends make unprofessional posts. One guy who posts frequently seems to have nothing to say other than, “Good morning. Got my coffee.” Another friend posts photos of his cats virtually every day. Nice cats, but I get it already. And really, friends, photos of fancy cocktails and beautiful restaurant meals have a way of looking alike. I wonder how long it will take Internet engineers to develop the ability to transmit smells?

Here’s a little lecture, for what it’s worth. When you post something on Facebook, remember that anyone can read it. So choir directors, never post yourself whining about volunteer choir members. Your success as a church musician depends on your ability to recruit, nurture, and maintain volunteer singers. Imagine how dear Mabel, who sings so loud and so flat, is going to feel if she reads you complaining about having to work with her. You’re being paid to do that work. She is giving of her discretionary time for the privilege of singing under your direction as part of her worship experience. Accept that as flattery and work it out.

And organbuilders, never post yourself whining about your clients. If you care at all about your professional future, remind yourself how precious is the client that chooses a pipe organ when so many alternatives are available. We used to take them granted—there would always be organs to build. That’s not the case anymore, and we must recruit, nurture, and maintain our clients. If you feel you have to complain, do it in private.

Why are we doing this, anyway?

Several of my (Facebook) friends stand out because their posts are so constructive, informative, and celebratory. Neal Campbell is director of music and organist at St. Luke’s Episcopal Church in Darien, Connecticut, and is editor of the newsletter of the New York City Chapter of the American Guild of Organists. He is a wonderful historian, especially regarding church music in New York. He posts frequently on Facebook, sharing photos and information about those organists whose names we all know, and about whom we know nothing. He also sets a standard for how to post about a volunteer choir—sharing his pleasure with the choristers he works with. Neal’s posts are thoughtful, charming, informative, and encouraging. If I were a parishioner at St. Luke’s, Neal’s tone on Facebook might just inspire me to join the choir. It’s obviously the place to be.

Walden Moore is another Connecticut Episcopal organist who uses Facebook wonderfully. He has served Trinity Church on the Green in New Haven for nearly thirty years. He has a long history of mentoring distinguished assistant organists and organ scholars (I suppose I would too if my neighbor were the Yale Institute of Sacred Music—quite a talent pool!), and he leads three wonderful choirs in a beautiful building with a marvelous organ. Walden is a regular on my Facebook page, and his posts reflect the joy of playing the organ, working with choirs, and working with a raft of brilliant musicians. Plenty of the photos he posts show restaurant tables, but it’s not primarily about the food. What stands out is that everyone in each photo is smiling or laughing. Now that’s church music!

Yesterday I saw this post from the mother of boys who sing under Walden’s direction: 

‘Believe in yourself. Believe in yourself as much as I believe in you.’—Mr. Moore to his choirboys at rehearsal tonight as they wrestled with a rhythmically thorny passage in a Distler piece. This is why my boys sing in choirs; would that every child could have this opportunity.

You go, Walden. More of that kind of thinking, and choir practice will take precedence over soccer. If everyone used Facebook like that, the world would be a better place.

It’s not just any wind

Recently, Walden posted photos of the two organ blowers in Marquand Chapel at Yale—one for the Skinner organ, the other for Taylor & Boody. Here’s what he said to accompany those photos:

Looking forward to the first class meeting of Liturgical Keyboard Skills tomorrow. Here are two almost never-seen views of the blowers for Marquand’s two equally fine and beautiful organs, built by Ernest M. Skinner and Taylor & Boody. The two blowers pictured, just like the organs, are as different as they could be, but the difference in the wind provided is not reflected by the impact of the two organs in the chapel space. Both lead in the way in which they were designed, and each is a fine representation of the builder’s art.

A tidbit like this is food for thought. Look at these two photos and note the differences between the two machines. One is modern, sleek, and compact, and ironically enough, provides the wind for a new organ based on ancient principles. The other is a “Spencer Orgoblo,” the workhorse of the twentieth-century electro-pneumatic organ. You can easily find the specifications of the two organs online. They are similar in size, at least in number of stops. The Taylor & Boody organ has more pipes, but I bet the Skinner weighs more!

One organ has sub-semitones on all three keyboards. One has two separate expression enclosures. One has lots of pistons, one has three big wedge-shaped reservoirs that can be pumped by foot power. One is in a chamber with curtains and a discreet façade, the other is in a free-standing case built of hardwood, opulently decorated with carvings and gold leaf. In tonal structure, philosophy, intent, and mechanical systems, the two instruments could hardly be more different, but they are both pipe organs, and they share the same air space. And that same air runs through the two blowers into the wildly different mechanical entities, producing as wide a variety of tone colors as you’ll ever hear on six keyboards. (Curt Mangel and Peter Conte, you stay out of it!)

I love wind. I’ve written about it frequently in these pages. I chose the title of this column because of the organ’s dependency on wind, and because, as Bob Dylan told us in his 1962 song, “The answer is blowing in the wind” is an enigmatic phrase that means either the answer is so obvious that you’re a fool if you don’t get it, or it’s as free-flowing and omni-directional as the wind. “In the wind” is the equivalent of “the grapevine”—a vehicle for the exchange of ideas and/or the proliferation of gossip.

By the way, “Blowin’ in the Wind” is number 14, and “Heard It through the Grapevine” is number 80 in Rolling Stone magazine’s list of 500 Greatest Songs of All Time. Funny, I looked up the list and didn’t find a single one of Schubert’s 600. Surely “Der Erlkönig” should have made it. And what about “I Got Rhythm?” All time greatest? How are we defining a song? Dylan gets all the way through his song singing only eight different notes. And I could name that tune in one note.

I think of wind in two different ways. There is the wind I know I cannot control, and the wind I think I can control. We live on a tidal shore and the “sea breeze” is a favorite of mine. This is not just a wind that blows by the sea. It’s a specific phenomenon caused by the warm afternoon sun heating up the land mass faster than the ocean’s surface. The warm air rises off the land, and the cooler air rushes in off the ocean to take its place. It blows up the river and right through our house, and it’s the most refreshing atmosphere ever. The only way I can control that wind is by opening and closing certain doors, causing it to turn at the end of the back hall and blow into the garage, which is my workshop. Wonderful.

In that workshop, I do all kinds of things that make me think I can control wind. I build windlines, releather windchests, and replace gaskets. I releather reservoirs—those ingenious devices that receive and store air pressure generated by the organ blower, regulate it to a specific intentional level of pressure, and then distribute it to the organ’s pipes as the player demands air by playing notes that open valves. I can claim to be in control of that wind, but it’s pretty crafty, always trying to escape and rejoin the rest of its free-spinning family. We call that “wind leaks.”

Here’s a tiny organ blower that’s been on a shelf in my workshop for several years. In the trade, we call this a “pancake” blower because of its horizontal orientation. It’s what you might find in a portable continuo organ, and it would be adequate for a gentle Positiv organ of six stops or less. But it would not provide enough pressure and volume of air for even one Skinner Diapason.

And here is the huge blowing plant for the mighty organ at Woolsey Hall at Yale University, training ground for all those organ scholars at Trinity Church on the Green. These beautiful specialized machines provide all the wind pressure for nearly two hundred ranks of heavy-duty Skinner pipes, including a fleet of thirty-twos. These two machines are redundant—if one quits, the other takes up the charge. They are each 20-horsepower motors that run on 440 volts of direct current. They have two pressure outputs regulated to 12 inches and 27 inches of wind pressure. Joe Dzeda, one of the curators of this wonderful organ, tells me that they run at 900 rpm, were built in 1915 and 1916, and are among the oldest electric motors in the State of Connecticut. Anyone who has been around the students at Yale knows this is a workhorse organ—the blowers are running between 40 and 50 hours each week!

The look of the sound

Look across a modern symphony orchestra and see how many different ways moving pressurized air can be turned into musical tone. The trumpet and the bass tuba are similar in tone production even though their physical sizes are so different. Because the tone is produced by physical “mechanical” vibration (the players’ bi-labial fricative), they are roughly analogous to the reed voices in a pipe organ. The double reeds (oboe, bassoon, English horn) all act the same way, as do the single reeds (clarinet, basset horn, and saxophone). In the orchestra, the only wind instruments that do not have a physical moving part to create the tone are the flutes and piccolos. There, the player directs a carefully produced and aimed column of air across a tiny hole.

Over centuries of experimentation and development, organ builders have created a wide range of tonal colors by manipulating wind through vessels of different sizes, shapes, and construction. Assume an open organ pipe two feet long, which is middle C of an eight-foot stop. It might be the diameter of my thumb (a narrow-scale string like Viole d’Orchestre) or the diameter of a thistle-seed birdfeeder (a broad diapason). It might be made of wood or metal. It might have a narrow mouth (2/9 of the circumference)—imagine the embouchure of the flautist—or it might have a wide mouth. Years ago, a mentor gave me the clear image of air as fuel. In your car, stepping on the throttle (gas pedal) sends more fuel to the engine’s cylinders. In an organ, a wider mouth, a deeper windway, a larger toe-hole all send more fuel to the pipe’s “engine”—the upper lip of the mouth that splits the windsheet creating the vibration that generates the tone. Choosing which of these functions should send more air is at the discretion of the tonal designer or the voicer.

An organ pipe can be tapered, wider at the mouth, narrow at the top (Spitz Flute, Gemshorn) or tapered the other way, wider at the top (Dolcan—an unusual stop). And then—put a stopper in the pipe, cut its length in half, and you have the wide world of Gedeckts, Stopped Diapasons, and Bourdons. In these, a one-foot pipe gives you middle C of that eight-foot stop, and they can be either metal or wood. Drill a hole in the cap of a metal Gedeckt, solder a little tube to it and you have a Chimney Flute or Rohrflöte. I like to think that drilling that hole sets the quint free (22⁄3′ harmonic)—that’s what gives the lyrical brightness to a Chimney Flute.

I think an important test of the tonal content of an organ is to compare eight-foot flutes. A big organ might have five or six of them. Sort out which are stopped flutes and which are open, and play the same passage on each. If they are all different, individual voices, the tonal designer and voicer have done their jobs. It’s surprising how all the flutes sound alike in some large, and otherwise good organs. The wonderful Hook & Hastings organ at the Church of the Immaculate Conception in Boston, now dismantled and stored because the church closed, stood out for me as an instrument with a wide—even wild—variety of flute tone.

Let’s go back to those two blowers at Marquand Chapel. Any organbuilder would be able to tell which blower belongs to which organ by listening to a couple measures played on each instrument, or simply by looking at photos of the organs and the blowers. The type and style of the blower is analogous to the type and style of the organ. And any organbuilder could compare photos of ranks of pipes with their sounds. If you look at a Gedeckt pipe and choose the sound of a Diapason, you’re
no organbuilder!

The wide variety of shapes and types of organ pipes means that one blower can draw air from its surroundings, blow it into the organ, and allow the organist to blend sounds like the old-master painter chose and blended colors. I suppose when you were starting out with organ lessons your teacher may have given you rules about how to choose stops. Here’s one I remember, don’t put a four-foot Flute above an eight-foot Principal. Almost fifty years later I ask, why not? If it sounds good to me, maybe the listeners will like it too.

Or will I read a Facebook whine that says, “I heard Bishop play last night and wouldn’t you know, he used a four-foot Flute above an eight-foot Principal.”

By the way, if you’re lurking about on Facebook, take a look at Andrew Gingery’s page. Andrew is a longtime member of the staff at C. B. Fisk, Inc. They’re installing a new blue organ in Japan. And while you’re at it, visit John Pike Mander of Mander Organs in the UK—he’s installing a new organ at the Anglican Cathedral in Kobe, Japan. Take their cues about what Facebook can be, and stop whining. Wonderful. 

Abstract 

Whether mechanical organ actions allow organists to control the way in which they move the key and thus influence the transients has been discussed for many decades, and this is often given as their main advantage. However, some physical characteristics of mechanical actions, notably pluck, make it difficult for the player to control the key movement and thus vary the transient. This project looks primarily at how organists use rhythm and timing to play expressively, but also provides some evidence about whether transient variation is significant. Rhythmic variation can be through the use of deliberate “figures”, or the player may be unaware that they are making such variations. These variations in style lead to clear groupings of the pressure rise profile under the pipe and thus limit the amount of transient control possible. This is supported by informal listening tests. It also considers other factors that might lead to transient variation that are outside the player’s direct control.

Introduction 

This paper presents results from a project funded by the UK Arts and Humanities Research Council at the University of Edinburgh and is based on papers presented at ISMA 2010 (International Symposium on Musical Acoustics) in Australia¹ and Acoustics 2012 in Nantes.²  The organ has been described as a “dangerously inexpressive” musical instrument.³ The project set out to investigate the extent to which organists use rhythm and timing to achieve expression on mechanical action pipe organs rather than varying the transient by the way in which they move the key, although it inevitably also considered the latter. Transient control is widely considered a basic factor of organ playing but this is not universal, and a number of prominent organists and builders, such as Robert Noehren,⁴ disagree. However, there is little published research about this or whether other mechanisms may be important for expressive organ playing. 

This project originally started because  of the construction of a number of large organs in the UK that have dual mechanical and electric actions. The curators of these organs reported that the mechanical consoles were hardly ever used, suggesting that any advantage was not overwhelming. It also implied that there may be significant unnecessary expenditure and also the possibility that either or both of the actions were compromised. 

The PhD work that preceded this project concluded that players did not vary the way in which they moved the key to the extent that they thought they did.⁵

Background 

The bar (groove) and slider windchest has existed more or less unchanged for some 600 years even down to the materials generally used. 

The one characteristic that defines the nature of the touch of a mechanical pipe organ action is pluck (being analogous with the feel of the plectrum plucking the string of a harpsichord. It is also called “top resistance”). Pluck is caused by the pressure difference across the closed pallet (H) in Figure 1, which is a modification of an illustration by Audsley of a cross section of a bar and slider windchest.⁶ The bar is the channel on which all the pipes for one note are planted. The sliders (S) are movable strips, traditionally of wood, that determine which ranks of pipes receive air from the groove, by lining up holes in the slider with corresponding holes on the top of the groove. They move perpendicularly to the plane of the diagram. With the pallet closed, the pallet box (ABDH) contains pressurized air whereas the groove contains air at atmospheric pressure. The net force of the pressurized air on the bottom of the pallet has to be overcome in order for the pallet to start opening. As soon as the pallet starts opening as the tracker (attached to N) moves downwards, the pressures on either side of the pallet start to equalize and the additional force reduces very quickly (Figure 3). The feeling has been likened to pushing a finger through a thin layer of ice. 

When a note is not sounding, the pallet is kept closed by the force exerted by the pallet spring (G) and the air pressure  against its lower surface. As a force is applied to the key, the various action components bend (key levers, backfalls), twist (rollers), stretch (trackers) and compress (cloth bushes), etc., until sufficient energy is stored to overcome the force keeping the pallet shut. Figure 2 shows a 200g key weight on a key of the model organ in Edinburgh just before the pluck point, with the pallet still closed. The key is depressed by about 40% of its total travel. Any further movement will result in the pallet immediately opening by a similar amount before the key has moved significantly further—the pallet “catches up” with the rest of the action. 

The need to keep the playing force and repetition rate within acceptable limits means that the action can never be made completely rigid, and it will always act like a spring to some extent. The basic characteristics of the movement of a key through to the sounding of the pipe are illustrated graphically in Figure 3. 

The low frequency variation in the pressure at the beginning of the note is due to the delay of the pressure regulator, described more fully later, and the high-frequency component throughout is due to the pipe feeding back into the groove. The most important features of Figure 3 are: 

• The key moves a significant distance before the pallet starts to open and catches up with the rest of the action ~ 40% 

• The key slows down due to the increasing resistance as the action flexes (rollers twisting, washers compressing, levers bending, etc.) 

• As the resistance due to pluck is overcome, the key increases in speed of movement, as it is not possible to reduce the force being applied by the finger in the time available 

• The air pressure in the groove starts to rise at the same time as the pallet starts to open 

• The force applied to the key increases until just after the pluck point, when it reduces, although not suddenly. This is probably due to the airflow through the pallet opening applying a closing force to the pallet 

• The force increases suddenly as the key hits the key bed 

• The air pressure reaches a peak early  in the pallet movement (after about 45% pallet travel) 

• The pallet starts to open at about 40% of key travel and the pressure in the groove reaches a maximum at about 57% key travel. This is the only part of the key movement that could affect the transient, but during this movement the  pallet is out of control of the key because  it is still catching up with it 

• There is a delay before the pipe starts to speak 

• The key is on the key bed and the pallet is fully open before the pipe has reached stable speech 

• There is a delay before the pallet starts to close when the key is released (probably due to friction) 

• Later in the release movement the pallet starts to close in advance of the key movement (due to air pressure) 

• The pallet is firmly seated before the key has returned to its rest position (in this case the key has 23% travel to go) 

• The sound envelope does not start to diminish until the point at which the pallet closes 

• During the key release, the force is gradually reduced but the key does not start returning until the force due to the  pallet spring is greater than the force applied by the finger 

• There is slight increase in force as the pallet “snaps” shut due to the flow of air through the opening. This helps to reduce leaks around the closed pallet, but would also make it very difficult to control the pallet in the final stage
of travel. 

The time of travel of the pallet from starting to open to fully open is typically  around 30ms (0.03 seconds). Reaction times in sporting events are generally around a best of 100ms.⁷ This implies that the player is unlikely to be able to respond to pluck and reduce the force being applied by the finger. 

These effects were noted in every organ measured, to a greater or lesser extent, depending on the size and rigidity of the action and the magnitude of pluck, and even on a light, suspended action the effect is significant. 

Initial work

Some tests were carried out with the University of Edinburgh organist, Dr. John Kitchen, playing the 1978 Ahrend organ in the Reid Concert Hall. This has a very “light” suspended action (50g key force, 50g pluck, Hauptwerk, middle C Principal). In the first exercise he played an improvised theme and was then asked to repeat it, varying nothing but the speed of key movement. The measurements of the key movements are shown in Figure 4, in which the curves are superimposed on the main part of the key movement rather than the pluck point.⁸ Kitchen felt that he had moved the key “five times faster” the second time (black curve) and changed nothing else. In fact, the time from the key starting to move to hitting the key bed in the fast note was about half the length of the slow note, with all of the difference at the beginning. Figure 4 does not show that the overall tempo was also faster with the fast key movement, but it can clearly be seen that the fast attack has resulted in a significantly shorter note. Even on this relatively rigid action, the effect of pluck is apparent at the beginning of the key movement at about 0.8mm key travel. 

In the next exercise Kitchen tried to accent a note by “hitting it harder.” Figure 5 shows that again with the non-accented movement the effect of the flexibility of the action is apparent, but the majority of the movement is very similar in both cases. 

In the two previous examples, the main part of the key movement has been superimposed. Since the relative timing of the pluck point varies, a further test was designed to indicate the point at which the player perceived the note to start. He was asked to play in the two manners from Figure 4 one octave apart simultaneously. Figure 6 shows the two notes to the same time reference and indicates that the player perceived the start of the note to be the point at which the key started to move. This introduces a timing difference between the two notes of approximately 30ms as the pipes will not start to speak until after the pluck point at a displacement of approximately 10% of travel. The “slow” note will sound after the “fast” note and is also slightly longer by about 10ms. The differences between the shapes of the beginnings of the key movements are discussed later. It is interesting that the notes do not end simultaneously. 

A further exercise was carried out at the Canongate Kirk in Edinburgh (Frobenius 1998, IIP20). A simple visual examination (confirmed by informal listening tests) shows that distinctly different key movements are not reflected in the sound profiles. Figure 7 represents a “fast” attack and Figure 8 represents a “slow” attack as perceived by the player. As observed throughout, the “slow” attack also resulted in a longer note. 

Rhetorical figures 

A frequent comment by organists was that even if it were possible to vary the way that they moved the key at the start of a piece of music, it was not possible to maintain these variations throughout a piece. Dr. Joel Speerstra is studying rhetorical figures at the University of Göteborg, based on his research into clavichord technique. These are physical gestures that can be maintained throughout a performance and are based on rhetorical figures in German baroque music described by Dietrich Bartel.⁹ 

Examples of Speerstra’s figures are listed below with his descriptions,¹⁰ along with graphs of some of these showing the key movements, pallet movements, pressure rise in the groove, and sound recordings. The measurements taken showed that phrasings closely followed the descriptions given, and some examples are shown below. 

Transitus (Figure 9) 

“You are standing a certain amount of the weight of your arm on a stiffened finger with a relaxed elbow, and moving from the first finger to the second without completely engaging the muscles of your arm that would lift it off the keyboard. This technique makes it easy to control heavy actions, and you would expect this kind of paired fingering to have fast attacks for both notes and a longer first and third note a shorter second and fourth note and, hopefully, as slow a release as possible after the second and fourth note.” 

The releases of the second and fourth notes are not significantly different from the others. 

Suspiratio (Figure 10) 

“It is a figure that starts with a rest followed by three notes, so the first note is now an upbeat, and I would expect that there is a faster release after the first note, and the second and third would form a pair much like the first and second in the transitus example.” 

Portato (Figure 11) 

“Portato [uses] separated notes but with slower attacks and releases.” 

To these can be added more familiar styles such as legato and staccato, although these may benefit from being more clearly defined. Whenever players were asked to play fast attacks, they also played shorter notes. 

Measurements were made of Speerstra playing in these styles on the North German organ in the Örgryte Church in Göteborg (built in the style of Arp Schnitger by the Göteborg Organ Art Centre [GOArt] as a research instrument). The key movement (middle C, D, E, F), pallet movement (C, D) and pressure in the groove of middle C (measured by removing the Principal 8′ pipe) were measured, as well as sound recordings being made. All magnitudes are to an arbitrary scale. 

Figure 12 shows all of the key movements and pressure profiles for the rhetorical figures described above. Despite the low number of data points, it can be seen that there are two groups of key movements and two very close groups of pressure rise profiles. The graph has been produced to show the two groups superimposed within the group but separated between the groups. If the player perceives the note starting at the point at which the key starts moving, there will also be time differences between the start of the notes as in Figure 6 above. There is an initial pressure drop in the “faster” group. Full listening tests have not been carried out, but initial tests across a wide range of musical levels did not indicate consistent differences in flue pipe transient between styles, although highly trained ears will detect subtle changes that others may not be able to. Reed pipes were not included in this study, although clear control of the final transient of some of the solo reeds was apparent when played in isolation. 

This organ is unbushed and there is a considerable range of noise response from the action—from almost silent to distinctly audible in the church, depending on the performer’s technique. This noise can mask the attack transient of the pipe, particularly close to the console. This issue was also encountered later in Rochester, and Speerstra considers that playing in a way that causes excessive noise is both undesirable and avoidable. John Kitchen also stated that he played in a style that minimizes the action noise on the Ahrend organ in Edinburgh. This avoidance of excessive action noise may limit variations in key and thus pallet movements. Excessive noise on key release may also mask the release transient. 

An example from each group is shown in the following graphs. Figure 13 illustrates an example from Group 1 and shows a relatively gradual start of the key movement, the first in the sequence. The accent is on the second note of the sequence.

Figure 14 shows a comparable note from Group 2. The key initially accelerates quickly and shows a distinctly different form of movement from Figure 13. The accent is on this note. 

The initial movement of the key is fundamentally different, and tests on the model at Edinburgh indicate that in the case of the portato playing style, the finger was in contact with the key at the start of the movement, whereas in the transitus example, the finger started its movement from above the key and thus was moving with significant speed when it contacted the key, causing a much greater acceleration of the key. 

Measurements were also made on the copy of the Casparini organ of 1776 from Vilnius, Lithuania, built by GOArt in Christ Church, Rochester, New York, for the Eastman School of Music (ESM). A number of doctoral organ students played in styles of their choice that they considered resulted in variations of expression, including different transients. They used their own descriptions of these styles; some of these were long and descriptive and cannot be incorporated onto the graphs. The pressure was measured directly under the pipe foot using a device made by the ESM organ technician Rob Kerner, and is not directly comparable with the previous example. The groupings of pressure rise profile have again been superimposed to highlight the similarities, and the time scale does not represent a constant start point of the note. All recordings are of the same theme used in the previous exercise.

Figure 15 shows the measurements from the first student, CP. There appear to be three distinct groups. The initial gradient of the first group shows some variation, but again, initial listening tests did not consistently identify differences even between the two extremes. The other two groups are more closely matched. It is not clear why there is a pressure reversal in group 2. Note again the initial pressure drop in group 3 and the extreme pressure variation. It is not yet clear what differentiates group 3 from the others. There were significant variations in the overall tempo, length of individual notes, relative lengths of adjacent notes, and overlap of notes.

The student’s description of each of the styles is shown in the following tables:

Table 1. Descriptions of playing styles in Group One, Figure 15. Student CP

259	Classical Mendelssohn
260	Romantic pp
262	Romantic pp
265	Baroque, two beats per measure
269	Bach 1st inversion suspiratio
270	Legato

Table 2. Descriptions of playing styles in Group Two, Figure 15. Student CP

256	One accent per measure
257	One accent per measure
258	Classical Mendelssohn
267	Baroque, one beat per measure
268	Baroque, two beats per measure
271	Harmonized

Table 3. Descriptions of playing styles in Group Three, Figure 15. Student CP

263	Virtuosic light ff
264	Virtuosic light ff

Two styles, 265 and 268—Baroque two beats per measure, and 258 and 259—Classical Mendelssohn, fall into both groups one and two, implying a fundamental difference between the two finger movements.

The key movements of the two extreme styles, Romantic pp and Virtuosic light ff, are shown on page 26. Figure 16 shows Romantic pp (262).

Figure 17 shows “Virtuosic Light ff” (263) to the same scale. It is unnecessary to state that the overall tempo is different.

Figure 18 shows the measurements of the first note in each sequence from student LG. Here there are two groups for the Principal 8′ alone, corresponding with groups one and two of CP’s playing. The measurements from the plenum are not readily distinguishable from the Principal alone. 

The descriptions of the styles are:

Table 4. Descriptions of playing styles in Group One, Figure 18. Student LG

274	Normal
277	Weight on 2nd
278	Weight on 2nd
283	Plenum equal accents
284	Plenum accent on 1st of pair
285	Plenum accent on 1st of pair
286	As 285 but faster tempo

Three of these are played on the plenum and not a single stop as with the others.

Table 5. Descriptions of playing styles in Group Two, Figure 18. Student LG

273	Normal
275	Paired notes with more weight on 1st
276	As 275
280	Weight on 2nd, 3rd and 4th finger
281	As 280
287	Fast, stronger on 1st

All of the pallet movements are shown in Figure 19. There is little difference in the initial movement, even though there were much wider variations in the key movements (Figures 20–22). There is very little difference in the key releases, but with two exceptions. In the case of examples 277 and 278, “Weight on 2nd” (marked with X on graph 17), there was a distinct elongation of the pre-pluck part of the key movement and the key, and thus the pallet did not reach full travel. As the pallet stopped at exactly the same point in each case (the key stopped at very slightly different points), it seems probable that there was high friction at this point. The attacks of these two key movements produced a shallower gradient at the start of the pressure rise, although informal listening tests did not indicate that this variation was sufficient to produce an audible difference with the single stop used in this test. The key and pallet movements for one of these are shown in Figure 20. The two “Normal” playings are split between the two groups, which again suggests a very distinct difference between them.

The curves are in sequence of time of closing and are from left to right, using the numbers in Tables 4 and 5, 278, 277, 287, 280, 274, 273, 286, 276, 281, 284, 285, 283. The consistency in speed of closure is worthy of note. The two curves at P are for the plenum and not a single pipe. It is possible that two non-accented notes marked with X would have closed similarly to the others had the pallet not stopped part way. There is a wide variation in the length of the notes and the overlap with following notes.

Two of the plenum notes in Figure 19 are marked with P at the point at which they cross. One of them shows a slower release of the pallet, whereas the other is similar to the rest of the movements. The key and pallet movements of the slower release are shown in Figure 21. This clearly shows that the pallet shuts before the key is fully released as shown in Figure 3. The key movement slows down when the pallet is no longer being pulled shut by the airflow round it.

Figure 22 is an example of a typical key and pallet movement, no. 275 “Paired notes with more weight on 1st.” Note that in all of Figures 20–22 the pallet does not start closing until after the key has started moving, indicating a degree of friction in the action.

Comparing Figure 20 with Figure 22, the weak note in Figure 20 has resulted in an extended pre-pluck movement of the key compared with the strong note in Figure 22. This is not reflected in the pallet movements to the same extent and, as discussed above, may result in timing differences in the sounding of the pipe if the player perceives the note as starting when the key starts to move.

All of the six student subjects demonstrated significant groupings of pressure along the lines of the examples shown above.

Key release 

Throughout this project, players have stated that even if there may be reasons why the attack may be difficult to control, it is possible to control the release accurately. There seems little evidence that this is actually the case.

While it is possible to control the initial movement of the key during the release stage because there are no similar effects to pluck, this does not necessarily allow for control of the ending transient. In the same way that the pressure in the pipe foot reaches its peak very early in the pallet opening it starts to reduce very late in the pallet closure. The corollary of pluck is felt as the airflow around the nearly closed pallet starts to “suck” it shut. Due to the flexibility in the action, the pallet closes before the key has returned to its rest position. Also, because the key force reduces due to this effect it is very difficult for the player to control the last part of the key release.

Some key releases were recorded at Göteborg. A fast release is shown in Figure 23 and a slow release in Figure 24. The blue line is the key movement and the pink line the sound recording.

By editing the steady part of the slow movement out to make the notes the same length just leaving the transients, informal listening teats confirmed that there is no difference in the sound of the transients. The difference between the notes is that the slow release results in a longer note.

Pressure changes in the wind system

In most organs the pressure regulator is remote from the windchest. Any variation in the air supply, such as when a note is sounded, will not be immediately compensated for. There will therefore be an overall pressure reduction when a note is started and a pressure increase when it is released. This was investigated by Arvidsson and Bergsten at GOArt in 2009.¹¹ This has been extended at Edinburgh to consider how these pressure waves in the wind system might affect pipe speech. Figure 25 shows a single note being played, and it can clearly be seen that the pressure in the pallet box reduces as the pallet opens, oscillates for a few cycles, and then steadies. This is reflected in the pressure measured under the pipe foot and also in the sound envelope of the pipe speech. When the pallet closes there is a corresponding increase in pressure. The variations shown here are around 35% of the steady pressure. These measurements were made on the model organ in Edinburgh and, while the effect will occur in any organ, the magnitude of these effects may be greater than normally encountered. A schwimmer system will reduce these effects.

Figure 26 shows the effect of playing a note before the note being measured. The pipe of the first note, E, was removed so that its sound did not interfere with that of the pipe being investigated. It can be seen that the effect of the release of the first note and of the attack of the second, F, have resulted in an even greater variation in the pressure throughout the wind system, and this is reflected in the outline of the sound recording. Listening tests have not been carried out, but this may lead to an audible difference in the transient of the second pipe.

Many notes being played together will produce large and random pressure variations in the wind system. These effects are also apparent with electric actions.¹²

It should also be noted that since pluck is directly related to the pressure in the pallet box, it will vary in proportion to it. It is thus possible that a momentary change in the magnitude of pluck could influence the time at which a key is depressed—especially if the player is already applying some force to the key.

Length of transient

In Figures 27 and 28, played on the ca. 1770 Italian organ in the Museum of Art, Rochester, New York, the pipe is slow to speak and starts at the octave and then breaks back to the fundamental. 

If a short note is played, as when the player is asked to make a “fast” attack, most of the pipe speech will be at the octave and that is what the listener perceives as the pitch of the note.  If a longer note is played, most of the pipe speech will be at the fundamental, and that is what the listener will hear. If the player is expecting a variation in transient, he may associate the different perceived sounds with what he believes are different key movements. In Figure 27, there is also evidence of initial mechanical noise. Note again that the nature of the attack has been reflected in the length of the note.

Conclusion

There is clear evidence that rhythm and timing are critical aspects of organ playing. In some cases they are the result of deliberate and systematic efforts by the player, as in the use of rhetorical figures, and in others the players may be unaware that they are making variations. Analysis of the various performances of the same sequence of notes showed wide variations in overall tempo, relative lengths of notes, and degree of overlap of notes, all of which will affect how it sounds to the listener. These and some other effects like variations of pressure in the wind system are independent of the type of action.

There is some evidence that transient control is difficult to achieve by the inherent design of the mechanical bar and slider windchest. Variations in key and thus, to some extent, pallet movement cause the pressure rise in the pipe foot to fall into distinct groups, the reason for which is still under investigation but would appear to be due to whether the finger starts in contact with the key or is already moving from above the key when it starts the note. Whether these differences result in audible changes is not clear and is likely to vary from organ to organ, and it is necessary to carry out properly controlled listening tests. Action noise may be a factor in informal listening tests. The player cannot react to pluck and any variations in key movement are predetermined.

Many of the characteristics of the bar and slider windchest work against transient control and this may have been one of its advantages—the aiding of clean consistent attacks due to the rapid opening of the pallet when pluck is overcome, but there is clear empirical evidence that players like mechanical actions. The immediate reason for this may be that it provides good tactile feedback. The organist can apply a certain force to the key in the certain knowledge that the note will not sound, but the force reduces to a comfortable level when the key has been depressed. It may also help reduce the risk of accidentally sounding a note if an adjacent key is brushed. 

It is unlikely that the original builders of the first windchests applied theoretical fluid dynamics to the design, and other reasons for its endurance may include:

• Ease of construction

• Reliability

• Ease of repair

• Snap closing of the pallet to give a good seal.

Every organ is different and this project has been limited by the instruments available. While this work may suggest that direct transient control is difficult, this may not be the case on instruments with different characteristics. There are, however, other mechanisms in play that may explain different perceptions of the sound.

This project is continuing and, with the cooperation of our colleagues around the world, it is expected that a clearer understanding of these important issues will emerge. 

Acknowledgements

My thanks to the Arts and Humanities Research Council, Professor Murray Campbell and Dr. John Kitchen at Edinburgh, the staff and students of GOArt and the Eastman School of Music, Joel Speerstra for his very helpful review of this article, Dr. Judit Angster and Professor Andras Miklos, Laurence Libin, John Bailey of Bishop and Sons in Ipswich, David Wylde of Henry Willis and Sons in Liverpool, and many others.

Notes

1. Alan Woolley, Mechanical Pipe Organ Actions and why Expression is Achieved with Rhythmic Variation Rather than Transient Control (Proceedings of ISMA, Sydney and Katoomba, 2010), paper number 2.

2. Alan Woolley, How Mechanical Pipe Organ Actions Work Against Transient Control (Proceedings of Acoustics 2012, SFA, Nantes, 2012), paper number 410, pp. 1969–1974.

3. Stephen Bicknell, “Raising the Tone,” Choir and Organ (March/April 1997), pp. 14–15.

4. Robert Noehren, An Organist’s Reader (Michigan: Harmonie Park Press, 1999), p. 161.

5. Alan Woolley, The Physical Characteristics of Mechanical Pipe Organ Actions and how they Affect Musical Performance (PhD Thesis, University of Edinburgh 2006).

6. George Ashdown Audsley, The Art of Organ Building (Mineola: Dover, 1965 republication of 1905 edition, Dodd, Mead & Co.), p. 215.

7. International Amateur Athletic Association, Rulebook, Chapter 5, Rule 161.2.

8. Alan Woolley, “Can the Organist Control Pallet Movement in a Mechanical Action?” (Journal of American Organbuilding, December 2006), pp. 4–8. 

9. Dietrich Bartel, Musica Poetica: Musical-Rhetorical Figures In German Baroque Music (University of Nebraska Press, 1997), pp. 57–89.

10. Discussion with author.

11. Mats Arvidsson and Carl Johan Bergsten, Wind system measurements in the Craighead Saunders organ (GOArt 2009), unpublished.

12. Alan Woolley, Transient variation in mechanical and electric action pipe organs (Proceedings of Meetings on Acoustics, Acoustical Society of America, Montreal June 2013, Volume 19), Paper no 4aMU3.

 

John-Paul Buzard Pipe Organ Builders, Champaign, Illinois

Opus 42, St. Bridget Catholic Church, Richmond, Virginia

From the builder

The new organ at St. Bridget Catholic Church in Richmond, Virginia, is the 42nd new organ to come from the workshop of John-Paul Buzard Pipe Organ Builders in Champaign, Illinois. It was completed on October 1, 2013, and inaugurated by Ken Cowan in concert on November 15.

The organ’s visual design was guided by the parish’s desire to reclaim a large stained glass window, which the former organ completely blocked. Pastor Monsignor William Carr, who began his clerical career at St. Bridget as the assistant pastor in the 1970s, remembered the beauty of the occluded window and began discussions with John-Paul Buzard in 2005 about the possibilities. The deteriorating mechanical condition and musical limitations of the previous instrument hastened the desire to proceed. The Great Recession delayed the start of the project until the parish raised all the funds to purchase the organ, as their bishop required. 

The gallery’s floor space is quite limited and the window is large. But, the church’s acoustical volume and musical needs required an instrument of a larger tonal size than that which would have been possible with a traditional design. This required some outside-the-box creative thinking, and resulted in our recommendation that the Great division be suspended over the gallery rail, and that the enclosed divisions be thought of as more a divided Swell than independent Swell and Choir divisions. Area organist Grant Hellmers was invited to consult, and enthusiastically agreed that the design met both musical and architectural requirements. The Great’s profile is kept low in order to keep this portion of the organ below the field of glass. The former heavy wood railing was replaced with a more transparent wrought-iron rail. The two enclosed divisions are located in matching cases on either side of the window. The cases’ designs utilize shapes and details found elsewhere in the Tudor-revival building. The result is that the organ cherishes the window, and the gallery and organ are architecturally integrated into the entire worship space rather than being set apart.

Executive Vice-President and Chief Engineer Charles Eames created an instrument whose physical essence truly flows from the building, therein creating room for a larger instrument than the space would have otherwise held. With the new organ in place, the gallery has an additional 100 square feet of usable floor space for the choir and other musicians, which it did not have previously.

This is indeed a three-manual organ. The three-division design evolved from the original two-manual divided Swell concept. The introduction of the 8′ Claribel Flute into what became a somewhat untraditional Choir division allowed the instrument to take on its three-manual identity. The organ exhibits a far greater variety of tone colors and pitch ranges than is typical of many instruments of its size. And it has the uncanny ability to take on the appropriate tonal characteristics of various historical and national styles to fit the character of the musical composition. All of history informs and directs us in the evolution of our singular “Classically Symphonic” tonal style.

The engineering, mechanical systems, and pipe-making all support the artistic end result. The main manual windchests are all electrically operated slider and pallet chests. The chests for the unit stops have expansion chambers built into the very thick toe-boards, to replicate the winding characteristics of the slider chests. All of the pipes are made of high tin content pipe metal, even in the bass, rather than zinc. The large pipes play promptly without having to use beards. The result is fullness and warmth without any hardness or inelegance of tone quality, all the way to the bottom of the compass.

The church’s acoustics change drastically when the room is filled with people, and the church is nearly full every time the organ is used. Tonal Director Brian Davis ably met the challenges that this condition presents by scaling and voicing the instrument for optimal performance when the room is full. The result is that the organ is never too loud, but it fills the room with sound even when played softly. An entire congregation can be supported in its singing with a single 8′ Diapason; the strings are voluptuous and shimmering; the haunting Flute Cœlestis provides an air of mystery; the Choir reeds provide some of the most beautiful cantabile colors imaginable; the smooth and stately Tuba soars above full organ. Nearly every stop can be used with any other to create a new musical color.

Superior tonal design, sensitive voicing, and painstaking tonal finishing result in the exquisite blend and balance of the individual stops and their choruses, relating to both themselves and to the room. And, as Ken Cowan demonstrated to the delight of his audience, there are many ways that this instrument can render seamless dynamic changes. As is the case with all Buzard organs, symphonic color and romantic warmth never sacrifice sprightly clarity and transparency of tone for rendering polyphonic music. 

The church’s growing music program is under the direction of Allen Bean. The children’s program, which Bean instituted and includes both boy and girl choirs, has performed at the Kennedy Center in Washington, D.C., and Alice Tully Hall in New York City.

Thanks to the staff of Buzard Pipe Organ Builders whose professionalism shines forth in all the work we undertake!

John-Paul Buzard, Artistic Director

Brian K. Davis, Tonal Director

Charles Eames, Vice President and Chief Engineer

Keith Williams, Director, Service Department

Shane Rhoades, Foreman, Production Department and Cabinetmaker

David Brown, Foreman, Service Department

Christopher Goodnight, Master Cabinetmaker

John Jordan, Service Technician

Michael Meyer, Cabinetmaker

Dennis Northway, Chicago area representative and Service Technician

Jay Salmon, Office Manager

Stuart Weber, Senior Service Technician

John Wiegand, Service Technician

Ray Wiggs, Console and Windchest specialist

Jonathan Young, Tonal Department Associate

—John-Paul Buzard

As a first-time voicer on any project, let alone one of this size, the installation of the St. Bridget’s organ was an eye-opening experience for me. The tonal design of the instrument was set before I was brought onto the Buzard team, but I had the opportunity to voice several stops under the tutelage of Tonal Director Brian Davis. Because of the acoustical characteristics of the room, the organ had to have plenty of treble ascendancy while still maintaining warm foundations and good blend. Thus, the higher pitches “sang out” a bit in the voicing room, but the effect in the church is a lively sound, not at all top-heavy but not dark or muffled.

The organ proved an overwhelming success—clear choruses and the proximity of the Great case to the seating area mean contrapuntal music can be rendered quite effectively; the variety of reed colors available lend themselves to solo work as well as forming a striking Swell reed chorus; two contrasting strings in separate boxes add variety to the foundations; and the presence of two cornets, one in the Great, enables the organ to reproduce French Classical music particularly well. However, it is equally adept at handling more modern literature and orchestral transcriptions, as was demonstrated by Ken Cowan at the inaugural recital. 

Throughout the process of voicing and tonal finishing, I was struck by how each installed stop expanded the ability of the organ as a vehicle for improvisation and interpretation of literature. The body of music this instrument will render is indeed large, and with that in mind I went back to Richmond at the beginning of November to record enough music to demonstrate some of its capabilities, including pieces by Guilmant, Langlais, de Grigny, and several major Bach works. All came off admirably, a testament to the versatility of the instrument and the integration of colors not usually found on American organs, such as the large Pedal 4′ open flute.

The St. Bridget’s organ represents a tremendous outlay of time, energy, and planning in pursuit of an instrument that will handle repertoire of any period with a clear but rich sound, and one which I hope the congregation will treasure for years to come.

—Jonathan Young, Tonal Associate

Buzard Pipe Organ Builders

From the director of music

St. Bridget Parish, a Roman Catholic parish of about 7,000 registered members, is among the largest in the Catholic Diocese of Richmond. Established in 1949, with the building completed and consecrated in 1950, the parish has thrived since its inception. 

The church building is Tudor style with Gothic elements. Seating only 500, the church provides five regular Masses every weekend to accommodate parishioners. Four Masses are led by organ and cantor, with assistance from choral ensembles. The Sunday evening Mass is led by piano, guitars, and a contemporary choir.

I became Music Minister at St. Bridget in October 2005. The primary accompanying instruments at that time were a transplanted E. M. Skinner organ, which was ¼-step flat and in need of restoration, and a mid-1920s Steinway M, also in poor condition. The Parish Adult Choir of about 20 singers sang for one Mass on Sunday morning, and the other Masses were led by volunteer cantors.

Since then, the music ministry has grown. The Parish Adult Choir has grown to 35 voices, and choirs for children (absent from the music ministry for more than 30 years) include a Boy Choir of 11 singers, and a Girl Choir of nearly 30 choristers. The Boy and Girl Choirs, using the RSCM Voice for Life Program, have established themselves as important and valued ensembles, and distinguished themselves in performances at the Kennedy Center in Washington, D.C. and Alice Tully Hall in New York City.

As the parish’s music ministry has grown, so has the need for an organ that could accompany an ever increasingly diverse music ministry, in a church whose acoustics change dramatically depending on the number of worshippers in the church.

The installation of our new instrument evolved out of conversation between Monsignor Carr and me in August 2005. The 1920s E. M. Skinner organ that so nobly served this parish since the 1970s, brought here from the now deconsecrated Monumental Church in downtown Richmond, was in need of restoration. Conversation quickly turned to action. Within a few months we had explored restoring and enlarging the Skinner organ, with additions that would give it the flexibility required for our growing program. We also received from John-Paul Buzard a proposal for a new instrument, one that would be tonally designed for our acoustical space, give us the flexibility we need to support choirs, cantors, and congregation, and uncover a great west window that is an architectural feature of the church.

The original design proposed by Mr. Buzard underwent several modifications over the following months. The stoplist was refined, as the organ became slightly smaller in scope than we originally envisioned, yet considerably more flexible. Mechanical components were also addressed in this process (another nod to flexibility), including independent swell shades on two sides of each enclosed division. The design process of this instrument was a delight for me as parish musician. The parish is forever grateful for the work of our Organ Project Consultant, Grant Hellmers, whose wisdom and experience helped define the parish’s needs in an instrument, and brought clarity to the process as St. Bridget personnel and I worked with the Buzard shop in the design phase.

Once the design was finalized, the Buzard shop began to plan the physical design of the instrument, and, under the direction of Tonal Director Brian Davis, began to envision the tonal color of each and every stop in the instrument. Mr. Davis’s ability to take the numbers that represented the (ever-changing) acoustical properties of the church, and to determine scale and timbre of each of more than 2,000 pipes in 38 ranks, producing more than 48 stops, proved to be remarkable. Charles Eames also worked magic, engineering the organ that John-Paul and Brian envisioned to fit into a relatively small space.

Several weeks of voicing accomplished by John-Paul Buzard, Brian Davis, and Jonathan Young brought St. Bridget Parish’s organ to completion. The instrument’s design, its pipes, its mechanicals, the construction of the instrument’s beautiful casework, its installation, its voicing, the work of St. Bridget Church’s own organ project committee, building committee, and staff, altogether required more than 20,000 hours of labor. I believe that even when it was labor bought and paid for, it was a labor of love, and that the Buzard shop always acted with a sense of vocation.

St. Bridget parishioners gave freely of their time to make sure the church was ready to receive the instrument. John McCulla coordinated our efforts with the Buzard shop. Richard Lewis designed the mechanical and electrical components the church provided. Terrence Kerner arranged for the addition of HVAC for the organ gallery. Patrick Ross and the St. Bridget maintenance staff were always on hand to help subcontractors and the Buzard crew with whatever they needed. These parishioners have remained involved even after the organ’s completion to assure the project is truly complete and in keeping with the church’s beautiful architecture.

Several enabling gifts allowed this project to move forward. In all, some 265 parishioners, a relatively small number of our many parishioners, made this instrument a gift to the parish. Additionally, still more parishioners have contributed to the Friends of Music Fund at St. Bridget, to enable an inaugural concert series, so that we can make it a gift to the Richmond community.

Because this platform is here for me to do so, I want to express my special gratitude to our Pastor, Monsignor Carr, who began this conversation more than eight years ago. He envisioned a pipe organ for St. Bridget Parish. He let the donors to the project know of our need. He guided Parish Council, Parish Finance Council, and all who made decisions about the organ throughout the process. And, if there is anyone who delights more in this instrument than I do, it is Monsignor Carr.

—Allen Bean

Minister of Music, St. Bridget Parish

April 27, Hamilton, Ontario, Canada

In 1980, I was appointed organist and director of music at Queen Street Baptist Church in St. Catharines, a position I held for 18 years. In 1998, I was appointed organist and director of music at Lundy’s Lane United Church in Niagara Falls. During those years, I conducted 23 organ and church tours throughout Ontario and New York State. These tours generated a lot of interest and I easily filled two buses for each fall tour and maintained a very long mailing and waiting list. 

When I was appointed as organist and director of music at St. Paul’s United Church in Oakville in 2010, I was strongly encouraged to restart these tours. In the spring of 2012, the congregation of St. Paul’s toured four major churches in downtown Toronto, an experience of sights and sounds enjoyed by all that attended. We were warmly welcomed by the clergy and organists at Metropolitan United Church, Yorkminster Park Baptist Church, Timothy Eaton Memorial United Church, and St. Clement’s Anglican Church.

On April 27, 2013, a lovely Saturday morning, one bus and twelve cars (approximately 80 people) set out for our second annual tour of Waterdown, Dundas, and Hamilton. This was made possible by the terrific support of members of the Hamilton RCCO who played in these churches. 

The School Sisters of Notre Dame Chapel (built in 1956) is in Waterdown, in a beautiful countryside setting hidden away. The Yvonne Willliams stained glass windows were beautiful as the morning sunlight came through. Organists and organ students had an opportunity to play the fine Casavant organ (Opus 2507—three manuals, 30 stops, 29 ranks, installed in 1959) in the gallery.

We then arrived at St. James’ Anglican Church in Dundas. Our hosts were Chris Dawes, Alan and Dorothy Gregson, and Richard Birney-Smith. The new Leslie Smith pipe organ was demonstrated by Richard—indeed a wonderful sound in this worship space. St. James was built in 1925 and the cornerstone was laid by the Bishop of Niagara at that time. The church was totally destroyed by fire in January 1978 and re-opened and dedicated in April 1980. An electronic organ had served the congregation up to the time of the arrival of the new organ. The new Leslie Smith organ (Opus 6) was installed at the front of the church in 2008, consisting of three manuals, 31 stops, and a total of 2,297 pipes. This organ originated as a 1913 Karn-Warren in the sanctuary of the now closed Church of St. James-the-Apostle in Hamilton. Although eleven of its voices are authentic to the original organ, and its matching Arts and Crafts style cases now house the Great and Solo divisions at the baptistery end of the church, with the exception of one pedal chest the entire mechanism is new and custom built for St. James. The pre-existing Karn voices have been augmented by the addition of both new and vintage pipework, including a rare free-reed Cor Anglais. The unusual characteristic of the organ, inspired by St. James’ famous acoustics, is its placement in four cases around the sanctuary: two at the baptistery (south end) and two at the chancel (north end).

Our next stop was the Cathedral of Christ the King, where our group was welcomed by Robert Corso, director of music, who gave us a guided tour. We were given an extensive and most interesting tour of the cathedral to appreciate the architecture and windows, and also a demonstration and short recital at the great Steinmeyer organ in the gallery. This organ (Opus 1570) was installed after the cathedral was completed in 1933. Built in Öttingen, Bavaria, it contains 85 ranks, 67 stops, and approximately 5,000 pipes. In 1990, a new four-manual console was installed by R. A. Denton & Son of Hamilton, Ontario, built by R. A. Colby, Johnson City, Tennessee (temporarily used by the Mormon Tabernacle in Salt Lake City, Utah during their organ console rebuild in the late 1980s).

Central Presbyterian Church in downtown Hamilton is the largest Presbyterian church in the region. The church was built in 1908, and on June 14 that year, when it opened, Casavant Opus 321 organ was already installed. The Echo division was added by Casavant in 1917, a new console in 1950, and the organ was tonally revised and overhauled in 1982 and 1999 by Alan T. Jackson, Toronto, for Casavant Frères. In 2008, the console underwent solid-state conversion by Robert Hiller for Alan T. Jackson. In 2010, the Echo division was revised and cleaned by Robert Hiller for Alan T. Jackson. Paul Grimwood, director of music at Central, was  host for our lunch break, followed by a mini-recital and organ demonstration.

Our tour group marveled at the array of beautiful stained glass windows at Melrose United Church. Rev. Liz Mackenzie welcomed everyone warmly. After a brief talk about the history of the church, some of the organists had a chance to play the fine Casavant organ (Opus 1360) in the chancel. This instrument consists of 38 stops, 42 ranks and 3,017 pipes. There were some alterations to the organ in 1978 by the Keates Organ Company of Acton, Ontario. At this point, our group sang that wonderful evening hymn, “The Day Thou Gavest, Lord, Is Ended,” with Andrew Adair at the organ. We thank David Buckley, director of music at Melrose, for allowing us the chance to see and play the organ.

Our day ended at Christ’s Church Cathedral, with Michael Bloss as host. A thrilling performance of Bach’s “Jig Fugue” filled the chancel and nave from the console of this fine Casavant organ (Opus 1048).

Originally a Johnson organ, this Casavant was installed in 1924 with three manuals. It was rebuilt by the Dubay Organ Company of Burlington, Ontario, in 1962, and again in 1998 by Alan T. Jackson of Toronto. At that time a new principal chorus and mixtures were added to the Choir division. The organ now has 59 stops, 65 ranks, with 3,898 pipes. One of the members of the cathedral staff spoke about the history of the cathedral and the stained glass windows. We thank them both for their time and warm welcome.  

Future tours are planned for the Niagara area in 2014, as well as tours to London, Buffalo, New York, Guelph-Elora, and Rochester, New York. 

John Bishop

The high cost of beauty

When the tomb of Pharaoh Tutankhamun was discovered in 1922, the world went agog over the dazzling beauty of the artifacts that had been hidden since his death some 3,300 years earlier. There were large pieces of gilded furniture, ornate masks, jewelry, and lots of hieroglyphics and paintings. The level of craftsmanship was bewildering, given the degree of antiquity. Other members of Egyptian royalty were buried in similarly grand circumstances, in tombs located under the great pyramids. And who built the pyramids? Slaves.

Big-time personal money always has and always will be part of the arts world. If there had been no Medici dynasty, we wouldn’t have had Michelangelo, Leonardo, Brunelleschi, and Donatello, to name just a few. How did the Medici make their money? They were bankers, the wealthiest family in Europe. They parlayed their wealth into political influence, and many family members became important politicians. The family even produced four popes in the sixteenth century. If that implies it was possible to purchase a papacy, I’m surprised that Silvio Berlusconi didn’t try it. A family tree I found online shows more than twenty generations of Medici between 1360 and about 1725. 

We’ve learned a lot about the ethics of banking and investment in recent years, where executives use their clients’ money to leverage their own fortunes, bring down institutions, and go home with bonuses that equal the annual wages of hundreds of normal workers. I’m not setting about a researched dissertation on the source of the Medici’s money, but I’m willing to bet that much of it came at the expense of others.

Heavy metal

The Carnegie Steel Company was one of the country’s first major producers of steel, and in the late 1880s and early 1890s, it developed important improvements in the manufacturing process, including open-hearth smelting and installation of advanced material handling systems like overhead cranes and hoists. The result was higher production levels using increasingly less skilled labor, and the Amalgamated Association of Iron and Steel Workers struck against the Homestead Steel Works. There were various waves of strikes, and at first the union prevailed. 

Henry Clay Frick ran the Carnegie Steel Company for his eponymous partner. He announced on April 30, 1892, that he would keep negotiations open with the union for thirty days, and on June 29, he locked down the plant and the union announced a strike. Frick engaged the Pinkerton National Detective Agency to provide security, and more than three hundred armed Pinkerton agents were involved in bloody battles with striking workers. The Pinkerton force surrendered, and the governor sent in the State Militia and declared martial law. There was a failed assassination attempt against Frick. The union was broken and collapsed about ten years later. 

It was important to Andrew Carnegie and Henry Clay Frick to beat down the union because they had their lifestyles to maintain. Carnegie built a majestic home on Fifth Avenue at 91st Street in New York (now the Cooper-Hewitt National Design Museum) in which he installed a large Aeolian pipe organ. He paid about $65,000 for the organ at the time when workers in the Aeolian factory earned about $600 a year. Hmmm. The organ cost as much as the annual wages of more than a hundred workers. Not as bad as King Tut, but sounds about right.

Henry Clay Frick installed a large Aeolian in his gracious home on Fifth Avenue at 70th Street (now housing the Frick Collection, commonly known as “The Frick”). These guys really knew how to build houses. Hank and Andy must have warmed each other’s hearts living just twenty blocks apart—an easy twenty-minute walk, just long enough to smoke a hundred-dollar cigar (six weeks for that Aeolian worker). Frick also built a tremendous Aeolian in his summer home at Manchester-by-the-Sea in Massachusetts and gave a four-manual job to Princeton University. That’s four big pipe organs built on the backs of striking steel workers.

Three years before the Homestead Strike, Andrew Carnegie paid about $1,000,000 to buy the land and construct the venerable Manhattan concert hall that bears his name. The place was owned by the Carnegie family until 1925 when they sold it to a real estate developer.

I’m giving Mr. Carnegie a hard time, because at least some of his business practices were mighty ruthless, and the mind-boggling wealth that he accumulated was not a reflection on his largess. But it’s important to remember that he was also an important philanthropist and the foundation that was founded on his fortune is still a major source of grants for all sorts of educational programs, scientific research, and artistic endeavors. Visit the website at www.carnegie.org.

I served a church in Cleveland as music director for about ten years, where a four-manual Austin was installed as a gift from the Carnegie Foundation in 1917. The Bach scholar Albert Riemenschneider of Baldwin-Wallace College was organist there when the instrument was installed—the perfect organ for a performance of Bach’s Orgelbüchlein.

Among many other projects, Andrew Carnegie and the Carnegie Foundation installed more than 8,800 pipe organs in America’s churches and founded more than 2,500 public libraries. That’s important.

Moving musical chairs.

On Thursday, October 3, 2013, Wendy and I attended a concert of the American Symphony Orchestra at Carnegie Hall to hear Stephen Tharp play the Symphony for Organ and Orchestra of Aaron Copland. Until about three o’clock that afternoon it was doubtful that the concert would happen because Carnegie Hall’s stagehands had struck the night before, causing the cancellation of the concert on October 2. They were striking over the rules for soon-to-be-opened educational spaces above the hall, claiming that they should have the same jurisdiction as in the great hall itself. Carnegie Hall’s management took the position that as it would be an educational venue, Local 1 of the International Alliance of Theatrical Stage Employees should not have such control. It’s probably not this simple, but should Theatrical Stage people control educational spaces?

The New York Times reported that Carnegie Hall employs five full-time stagehands with average annual compensations of more than $400,000 a year, with additional part-time union members brought in as needed. I know a lot of organbuilders who would make great stagehands, and Wendy was quick to say that I missed my calling.

The strike was settled in time for us to hear Stephen play with the American Symphony Orchestra. The New York Times reported that the union backed off, as it seemed ridiculous to almost anyone that a teenaged music student would not be allowed to move a music stand. You can read about that strike in the New York Times at: www.nytimes.com/2013/10/05/arts/music/carnegie-hall-and-stagehands-sett….

It’s an exquisite irony that the October 2 concert cancelled because of the strike was to be a gala celebratory fundraiser for the Philadelphia Orchestra, recently revitalized after years of labor disputes. Yannick Nézet-Séguin was to open his second season as music director in what was billed as the triumphant return of that great orchestra to its role as a national leader.

Vänskä-daddle

On October 3, 2013, the Minneapolis Star Tribune reported that Osmo Vänskä had resigned from his position as music director of the Minneapolis Symphony Orchestra. His action was anticipated. The musicians had been locked out by the Board of Directors for more than a year in a dispute that pitted the player’s requests for salary increases against the board’s decision to spend $52,000,000 renovating the concert hall while claiming there were no funds to increase salaries.

The orchestra had long planned to play a series of concerts at Carnegie Hall in New York during the fall of 2013. Ironically, Vänskä was widely celebrated for having brought the MSO into new prominence with several seasons of brilliant performances and celebrated recordings, and the Carnegie Hall concerts were to celebrate the MSO’s bursting into the upper echelons of American symphony orchestras. Vänskä had announced that the dispute must be settled so rehearsals for those concerts could begin on September 30. If not, he would resign. It wasn’t, and he did. Former Senator George Mitchell, famous for negotiating settlements of disputes in Northern Ireland and steroid use in Major League Baseball, had been enlisted to help with the MSO negotiations—turned out that Northern Ireland had nothing on the MSO.

In the past several years, a number of important orchestras have suffered serious financial stress leading to labor disputes, including the orchestras in Philadelphia, Atlanta, San Francisco, Indianapolis, St. Louis, and Chicago. 

Eerily, on September 30, 2013, the same drop-dead-date for Väskä’s resignation, Norman Ebrecht of ArtsJournalBlogs reported that players in one hundred German orchestras struck simultaneously to draw attention to the increasing number of orchestras closing because of dwindling government support. There were 168 orchestras in Germany at the time of reunification in 1991, and there are 131 today. It’s a big deal to lose nearly forty orchestras in twenty years.

Do the numbers.

I love to do goofy math. In the 1970s when I lived on a farm outside Oberlin, Ohio, I wondered how much corn might grow in a day. I measured a couple dozen plants in the morning, then again in the evening, and came up with an average amount of growth. I measured and multiplied to get the number of plants in an acre, then again by the number of acres on the farm. Of course I can’t remember the numbers, but I know it added up to many miles of growth in a day. You could almost hear it while lying in bed at night.

I did that recently with the economics of a symphony orchestra. I found a list online of American orchestras with the largest operating budgets. Los Angeles tops that list at $97,000,000. Boston is second at $84,000,000. I stuck with Boston because it’s home, and I got the rest of the information I needed. The BSO plays about a hundred concerts a year—that’s $840,000 each. Symphony Hall seats about 2,600 people. The average ticket price is around $75, so ticket revenue for a full house is about $195,000. That’s a shortfall of $645,000 per concert that must be made up by private and corporate donations, campaigns, bar and restaurant revenues, and heaven knows what else—if they sell out each concert. Read the program booklet of the BSO and you’ll be surprised how many of the orchestra’s chairs are “fully funded in perpetuity,” named for their donors. Three cheers for them.

I know very well that this is bogus math. There are many variables that I’ve overlooked, and doubtless many of which I am not aware—but I think it’s a reasonable off-the-cuff illustration of the challenges of large-scale music-making in modern society. You can buy a pretty snazzy new pipe organ for the $645,000 that’s missing for each BSO concert after ticket sales.

While I was surfing about looking for those numbers, I learned that the starting salary for a musician in the Boston Symphony Orchestra is about $135,000. That’s pretty good when compared to the Alabama Symphony Orchestra where the starting salary is more like $48,000. I suppose that senior members of the BSO must earn over $200,000. In the business world, concertmaster Malcolm Lowe would qualify as an Executive Vice President and head of a department—worth $250,000 or $300,000, I’d say. But not as much as a stagehand. 

I guess I’m laboring under an old-fashioned concept that the artistic content should be worth more than the support staff. Big-time stagehands are hardworking people with important jobs. It’s not just anyone who can be trusted to fling high-end harps around a stage. But how many church choir directors would like to have someone else available to set up the chairs?

If the cost of operating a symphony orchestra seems high, get a load of the Metropolitan Opera. I found an article in the New York Times published on October 1, 2011, that put the Met’s annual budget at $325,000,000, of which $182,000,000 is from private donations. The Met had just passed New York’s Metropolitan Museum of Art as the arts organization with the largest budget. (Counting baseball, New York City has three Mets.)

I found a page on the Met (opera) website that listed the administrative staff, which includes the General Manager (Peter Gelb), Musical Director (James Levine), and Principal Conductor (Fabio Luisi), along with twenty-five assistant general managers, artistic management, design, production, finance, development, human resources, house management, stage directors, stage management, carpenters, electricians—a total of more than three hundred administrative employees. Add a symphony orchestra, costumes, make-up, custodians, ticket sellers, and—oh yes—singers, and you wind up with a whopping payroll.

Since I’m not a stagehand, I pretended I was going to buy one ticket online. I chose a performance of La Bohème on Saturday, March 22, 2014, at 8:00 p.m. I couldn’t choose between a seat in Row B of the Orchestra (down front, near the stage) for $300, or one in Orchestra Row U for $250. And nearly half of the operating budget is funded by donations. If you take a date and have a nice dinner and a glass of wine at intermission, that’s pretty much a thousand-dollar night, something stagehands could afford if they could get the night off.

§

The source of much of the money that has funded the arts over many centuries is questionable, and it’s especially difficult to accept how much of has been the product of slavery. But scary as that is, I’m sure glad we had the Medicis and hundreds of others like them. It would be a barren world without the art and architecture that they funded. I have to admit that when I’m standing in a museum looking at a work of art, I’m not fretting about the suffering involved in its production.

Today’s system seems more just—concert-goers buy tickets, and corporate and individual sponsors theoretically make up the rest. That works as long as costs are reasonably controlled, and donors can be kept happy. The problem with that is how it can affect programming. 

If you listen regularly to a commercial classical radio station anywhere in the country, you would be able to list society’s favorite pieces of music: Vivaldi’s Four Seasons, Beethoven’s 3rd, 5th, 6th, and 9th, Mozart’s 40th Symphony and 23rd Piano Concerto, Respighi’s Ancient Airs and Dances—you get the idea. Organists know how hard it is to get a bride to choose something other than the Taco-Bell Canon, or Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring.

Lots of serious classical music ensembles, from local choruses to major symphony orchestras, adjust their programming to please their patrons. The box office at Boston Symphony Hall has a long-standing tradition allowing people to pass on their subscription seats to friends. When James Levine came to town as music director of the Boston Symphony Orchestra, he increased dramatically the amount of contemporary music on the programs, and friends of ours who had long held great seats on the balcony above the stage asked if we wanted to take them over because they couldn’t take all the modern music. We did.

And, in a related matter, the players of the BSO made public the extra workload brought on by Levine’s energetic and imaginative programming. On March 17, 2005, the Boston Globe reported that orchestra players were concerned about longer concerts, extra rehearsals, and programming of exceptionally difficult music. You can read it online at www.boston.com/news/globe/living/articles/2005/03/17/levines_pace_prove…. They cited aggravation of injuries and increased stress and negotiated with Levine to alter some of the planned programs. And the BSO Trustees created a special fund to support the cost of the extra rehearsal time. But smaller institutions with limited resources would not be able to do the same. So it’s back to the crowd-pleasing favorites at the cost of innovation.

I’ve often repeated a story about an experience Wendy and I had with artistic patronage. An exceptionally wealthy friend, now deceased, was well known in his community as a generous supporter of the arts. He lived in a city that is home to a nationally prominent repertory theater company that was mounting the premiere production of Paula Vogel’s The Long Christmas Ride Home. The play tells the story of a family’s gay son contracting AIDS, with the main dialogue happening in the family car driving home from a holiday celebration. The production was to include larger-than-life bunraku puppets that would provide the action less suited for the stage, conceived by the playwright, to be constructed by a New York-based puppeteer. Our friend was asked to fund the puppets, which were to cost nearly a hundred thousand dollars. He told us the story over dinner, saying that he hated the idea, was uncomfortable with the subject, but thought he should provide the funds because he knew it was important.

§

Recently organist David Enlow and harpist Grace Cloutier performed a recital at David’s home church, Church of the Resurrection in Manhattan, where the Organ Clearing House installed an instrument a couple years ago. At dinner after the concert, we were discussing the instruments we play, and I noted that with the exception of pianos and high-end violins, the harp is probably one of the most expensive instruments that musicians typically own privately. Organists have to rely on the institutions for which they work to provide them with an instrument to play. And they sure have gotten expensive.

I’ve always felt that a three-manual organ with forty or fifty stops is just about right for a prominent suburban church with a sanctuary seating five hundred people or more. But a first quality organ of that size will push, and easily exceed, $1,000,000. It’s pretty hard for many parishes to justify such a whopping expenditure. I grew up in the era when it was all the rage for churches to replace fifty-year-old electro-pneumatic organs with new trackers, and many organists fell into the habit of getting what they asked for. Those days are largely over, because now that we really know how to build good organs of any description, we also know what they cost! We have to remember what a big deal it is for a church to order a new instrument.

§

I’m troubled by the striking stagehands. I believe in the concept of the labor union. They were formed to confront real injustice, and in the strange and shaky state of our economy, injustices are still firmly in place. But this is a time when they’ve gone too far. That kind of labor organizing can threaten the future of live music in concert halls.

The Organ Clearing House uses Bank of America because we work all across the country, and it’s convenient to be able to get to a bank pretty much anywhere we go. But we were not bursting with pride when Time magazine reported on November 9, 2013, that the bank was to be fined $865,000,000 for mortgage fraud related to the Countrywide Financial scandal. At the same time, our bank is a Global Sponsor of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, Alvin Ailey Dancers, and the Metropolitan Opera HD Broadcasts in public schools. We thank them for all that.

Bank of America is also a “Season Sponsor” for Carnegie Hall, supporting the Hall’s mission “to present extraordinary music and musicians on the three stages of the legendary hall, to bring the transformative power of music to the widest possible audience, to provide visionary education programs, and to foster the future of music through the cultivation of new works, artists, and audiences,” as stated on Carnegie Hall’s website.

So the concert hall that was built on the backs of striking steel workers, whose schedule was recently interrupted by striking six-figure stagehands, is now supported largely by a bank guilty of major mortgage fraud. 

May the music keep playing. Sure hope it does. The stakes are high. 

John Bishop

The start of a century

At 10:24 a.m. on October 15, 1947, Air Force test pilot Chuck Yeager flew the X-1 experimental aircraft faster than the speed of sound. That’s 761.2 miles per hour at 59-degrees Fahrenheit. It was quite a technological achievement. You have to generate a lot of power to move a machine that fast. But there was a spiritual and metaphysical aspect to that feat. Engineers were confident that they could produce sufficient power, but they were not sure that a machine would survive the shock wave generated by a machine outrunning its own noise. They supposed that the plane would vaporize, or at least shatter, scattering Yeager-dust across the landscape.

In his swaggering ghost-written autobiography, Yeager, he casually mentions that he had broken ribs (probably garnered in a barroom brawl) and had to rig a broomstick to close the cockpit hatch. He took off, flew the daylights out of the thing, and landed, pretty much just like any other flight. By the noise, and by the cockpit instruments, he knew he had broken the sound barrier, but to Yeager’s undoubted pleasure and later comfort, the worries of the skeptics proved untrue.

 

Invisible barriers

Remember Y2K? As the final weeks of 1999 ticked by, residents of the world wondered if we would survive the magical, mystical moment between December 31, 1999, and January 1, 2000. Of course, the world has survived some twenty-five changes of millennia since we started to count time, but this would be the first time with computers. The myth that computers would not be able to count to 2000 had us hyperventilating as we ran to ATMs to grab as much cash as we could. People refused to make plans that would have them aloft in airplanes at that horrible moment, supposing that cockpit computers would fail and planes would fall from the sky. The collapse of the world’s economy was predicted. Public utilities would cease to function. Nuclear power plants would overheat, and soufflés would fall.

As the clock ticked closer to midnight on New Year’s Eve, we waited breathlessly. Fifteen, fourteen, thirteen…sometimes it causes me to tremble…eleven, ten, nine, eight, seven…all good children go to heaven…four, three, two, one…

Humpf.

I have no idea how the venerable astronomers settled on how to organize the calendar and define our concept of time. I imagine a committee of bearded and wizened wise men gathered in a pub, throwing darts at a drawing of a clock. However they did it, they didn’t fool us. Cell phones, ATMs, airplanes, power plants, railroads, and thank goodness, icemakers just kept on running. However accurately that moment was defined, it was meaningless—a randomly identified milestone amongst the multitude.

Then we worried about what we call those years. The oughts? The Ohs? Shifting from ninety-seven, ninety-eight, ninety-nine to oh-one, oh-two, oh-three seemed impossible. I managed, and so did you.

 

Centennials

The twentieth century started without the computer-induced hoopla, but I suppose that our heroes—Widor, Puccini, Saint-Saëns, Dvorák, and Thomas Edison—watched in suspense as the clock ticked past the witching hour. The real upheaval happened more than thirteen years later. On May 29, 1913, Ballets Russe danced the premiere of Igor Stravinsky’s The Rite of Spring at Théâtre des Champs-Élysées. Stravinsky had used traditional and familiar instruments and all the same notes that people were used to, but the way he arranged the tonalities, the maniacal organization of rhythms, the angular melodies, and the radical orchestration set the place in an uproar. The bassoon that played those haunting melismatic opening solos could have been used to play continuo in a Bach cantata the same day. Legend has it that the audience couldn’t contain itself and there was wild disturbance. How wonderful for a serious musical composition to stir people up like that. I haven’t seen people so worked up since the Boston Bruins failed to win the Stanley Cup.

 

Everything’s up to date in Kansas City

About five weeks before Stravinsky tried to ruin the theater in Paris, the Woolworth Building designed by Cass Gilbert was opened on Lower Broadway in New York, April 24, 1913. Like Stravinsky, Cass Gilbert used a traditional vocabulary—the prickles and arches given us by the Gothic cathedrals. But Rodgers & Hammerstein’s “gone and built a skyscraper seven stories high” was not as high as a building ought to go. Cass Gilbert went fifty-seven stories—792 feet; the building remained the tallest in the world until 1930. Gilbert hung those classic Gothic features on a high-tech structure and startled the world of architecture and commerce.

Besides the technical achievement of supporting a massive structure that tall, the building had thirty-four newfangled elevators. The engineers executing Gilbert’s design had to figure out how to get water more than 700 feet up. Just think of that: pulling up to the curb in a shiny new 1913 Chalmers Touring Car, and stepping in an elevator to go up fifty-seven stories. Those folks in Kansas City would have flipped their wigs.

The Woolworth building is still there a hundred years later. Like The Rite of Spring, it’s a staple in our lives, and it seems a little less radical than it did a century ago. After all, a few blocks away at 8 Spruce Street, by the foot of the Brooklyn Bridge, the new tallest residential building in the Americas (seventy-six stories and 876 feet), designed by Frank Gehry, towers like a maniacal grove of polished corkscrews. Gehry took the functional aesthetic of the glass-and-steel Seagram Building (375 Park Avenue, designed by Mies van der Rohe and Philip Johnson, built in 1958), and gave it a Cubist ethic by twisting the surfaces to create the signature rippling effects.

How poetic that the Woolworth Building and 8 Spruce Street, opened almost exactly a century apart, stand just a few blocks apart, trying to out-loom each other. I took these photos of them while standing in the same spot on City Hall Plaza.

Frank Woolworth made a fortune in retail, the Sam Walton of his day. F. W. Woolworth stores dotted the country, making goods of reasonable quality available to residents of small towns. However, I doubt that anything sold in his stores would have been found in his houses. His principal residence, also designed by Cass Gilbert, was at the corner of Fifth Avenue and 80th Street in Manhattan, across the street from the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Among dozens of priceless artifacts was a large three-manual Aeolian organ. Woolworth was one of Aeolian’s prime customers, and, rare among that heady clientele, he could play the organ. 

His estate Winfield (the “W” of F. W. Woolworth) on Long Island boasted the first full-length 32-foot Double Open Diapason to be built for a residence organ. Now that would shake your champagne glasses.

Woolworth’s funeral was held in the Fifth Avenue mansion. Frank Taft, artistic director of the Aeolian Company, was on the organ bench.

 

The twenty-first-century pipe organ

There’s a lot going on here in lower Manhattan. South of Union Square at 14th Street, Broadway stops its disruptive diagonal path across the city, and assumes a more reliable north-south orientation, forming the border between Greenwich East Village and Greenwich West Village. On the corner of 10th and Broadway stands Grace Church (Episcopal). Three blocks west on the corner of 10th and Fifth Avenue stands Church of the Ascension (Episcopal). Both are “Gothicky” buildings—Grace is whitish with a tall pointed spire, while Ascension is brownish with a stolid square tower with finials. Both have pretty urban gardens. Both are prosperous, active places. And both have radical new 21st-century organs.

Taylor & Boody of Staunton, Virginia, is coming toward completion of the installation of their Opus 65 at Grace Church, where Patrick Allen is the Organist and Master of the Choristers. In 2011, Pascal Quoirin of Saint-Didier, Provence, France, completed installation of a marvelous instrument at Church of the Ascension, where Dennis Keene is Organist and Choirmaster.

Both of these organs have as their cores large tracker-action organs based on historic principles—and Principals. And both have large romantic divisions inspired by nineteenth- and twentieth-century ideals. Both are exquisite pieces of architecture and furniture, and both have been built by blending the highest levels of traditional craftsmanship with modern materials and methods.

At Church of the Ascension you can play the core organ from a three-manual mechanical keydesk, and the entire instrument from a separate four-manual electric console. At Grace Church, the whole organ plays from a four-manual detached mechanical console, and contacts under the keyboards allow access to electric couplers and the few high-pressure windchests that operate on electric action.

A more detailed account of the organ at Church of the Ascension has been published (see The Diapason, November 2011) and no doubt, we can expect one about the Grace Church organ—so I’ll limit myself to general observations, and let the organbuilders and musicians involved speak for themselves. I admire the courage and inventiveness exhibited in the creation of these two remarkable instruments.

I expect that purists from both ends of the spectrum will be critical, or at least skeptical of these efforts to bridge the abyss. But I raise the question of whether purism or conservative attitudes are the best things for the future of our instrument. We study history, measure pipes, analyze metal compositions, and study the relationships between ancient instruments and the music written for them. We have to do that, and we must do that. 

After finishing the restoration and relocation of a beautiful organ built by
E. & G. G. Hook (Opus 466, 1868) for the Follen Community Church in Lexington, Massachusetts, I wrote an essay in the dedication book under the title, The Past Becomes the Future. In it I wrote about the experience of working on such a fine instrument, marveling at the precision of the workers’ pencil lines, and the vision of conceiving an instrument that would be vital and exciting 140 years later. I saw that project as a metaphor for a combination of eras. And I intended the double meaning for the word becomes. The past not only transfers to the future, but it enhances the future. I could carry the play on words further by misquoting the title of a popular movie, Prada Becomes the Devil! 

Another tense of that use of the word become is familiar to us from Dupré’s Fifteen Antiphons: I am black but comely, O ye daughters of Jerusalem. We don’t typically use the word that way in conversation, but if you read in a Victorian poem, “she of comely leg,” you’d know exactly what it meant!

 

Speaking of the ballet…

Recently, renowned organist Diane Belcher mentioned on Facebook that the recording she made in 1999 (JAV 115) on the Rosales/Glatter-Götz organ in the Claremont United Church of Christ, Claremont, California, has been released on iTunes. Buy it. This is a smashing recording of wonderful playing on a really thrilling organ. It’s a big, three-manual instrument with mechanical action and a wide variety of tone color. The recording has long been a favorite of mine—I transferred it from the original CD to my iPhone and listen to it in the car frequently.

The first piece on the recording, Tiento de Batalla sobre la Balletto del Granduca by Timothy Tikker, was commissioned by the organbuilder to showcase the organ’s extraordinary collection of reed voices. The piece opens with a statement of a measured dance, familiar to organists who grew up listening to the recording of E. Power Biggs, and proceeds in a dignified fashion from verse to verse. I picture a large stone hall lit by torches, with heavily costumed people in parade. But about three minutes in, things start to go wrong. It’s as though someone threw funky mushrooms into one of the torches. An odd note pokes through the stately procession—you can forgive it because you hardly notice it. But oops, there’s another—and another—and pretty soon the thing has morphed into a series of maniacal leaps and swoops as the reeds get more and more bawdy. Tikker established a traditional frame on which he hung a thrilling, sometimes terrifying essay on the power of those Rosales reeds.

 

New threads on old bones

• Igor Stravinsky used an ancient vocabulary of notes and sounds to create revolutionary sounds. The same old sharps and flats, rhythmic symbols, and every-good-boy-deserves-fudge were rejigged to start a revolution.

• Cass Gilbert used 500-year-old iconography to decorate a technological wonder.

• Frank Gehry gave the familiar skyscraper a new twist.

• Taylor & Boody and Pascal Quoirin have morphed seventeenth- and eighteenth-century languages into twenty-first-century marvels.

• Timothy Tikker painted for us a portrait of the march of time.

 

Organists are very good at lamenting the passage of the old ways. Each new translation of the bible or the Book of Common Prayer is cause for mourning. I won’t mention the introduction of new hymnals. (Oops!)

We recite stoplists as if they were the essence of the pipe organ. We draw the same five stops every time we play the same piece on a different organ. And we criticize our colleagues for starting a trill on the wrong note. 

I don’t think Igor Stravinsky cared a whit about which note should start a trill.

 

The end of the world as we know it

Together we have witnessed many doomsday predictions. I’ve not paid close attention to the science of it, but it seems to me that the Mayan calendar has come and gone in the news several times in the last few years. A predicted doomsday passes quietly and someone takes another look at the calendar and announces a miscalculation. Maybe the world will end. If it does, I suppose it will end for all of us so the playing field will remain equal.

But we can apply this phrase, the end of the world as we know it, to positive developments in our art and craft as the twenty-first century matures. Your denomination introduces a new hymnal—the end of the world as you know it. So, learn the new hymnal, decide for yourself what are the strong and weak points, and get on with it.

Chuck Yeager broke the sound barrier, and kept flying faster and faster. On October 15, 2012, at the age of 89, Chuck Yeager reenacted the feat, flying in a brand new F-15 accompanied by a Navy captain. But imagine this: it was the same day that Austrian Felix Baumgartner became the first person to break the sound barrier without at airplane! He jumped from a helium balloon at an altitude of twenty-four miles, and achieved a speed of 843.6 miles per hour as he fell before deploying his parachute. Both men lived to see another day.

A Taylor & Boody organ with multiple pressures and expressions, powerful voices on electric actions, and seething symphonic strings—the end of the world as we know it. Embrace the thoughtfulness and creativity that begat it. And for goodness’ sake, stop using archaic words like comely and begat. ν