Dudley Buck’s Grand Sonata in E-flat: The Architecture of an American Masterpiece

June 27-July 2, 2011, Washington, D.C.

Frank Rippl holds a BM degree from Lawrence University in Appleton, Wisconsin, where he was a student of Miriam Clapp Duncan and Wolfgang Rübsam, and an MA degree from the University of Denver. He has been organist/choirmaster at All Saints Episcopal Church in Appleton since 1971, is co-founder of the Appleton Boychoir, and coordinator of the Lunchtime Organ Recital Series. Photos by Len Levasseur

In the immortal words of Charles  Dickens, “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.” Now, please don’t be alarmed by those words, because the convention itself was really wonderful: terrific organs, organists, many and varied venues displaying the remarkable depth available in and around our nation’s capital—from the National Cathedral to a former convent chapel. The hotel, the food, the displays and the well-researched Atlas were just fine and highly commendable.

The only bad thing, that “worst of times,” which nearly brought the convention to its knees, was an inept bus situation that seemed to conspire against us each day by being hours late, not showing up at all, sending buses with not enough seats, or by being utterly confused as to how to get from point A to point B. It was frustrating, and many an oath was uttered. But we still had a good time in spite of the craziness. Because of the buses, I did miss one of the recitals on the last day, and I truly apologize to the performer. But enough of that. Let’s get on to the good things and the music!

The convention headquarters was at the Holiday Inn at Reagan National Airport—not far from Crystal City and Old Town Alexandria, and near the Pentagon. Coming in for a landing at Reagan Airport gives one a stunning view of the National Mall with the Capitol, the White House, and all the famous monuments. But, for organists, it is probably the sight of the National Cathedral that causes the heart to skip a beat or two. Checking in at the hotel, greeting old friends, and visiting the displays are familiar rituals of these conventions. It made it all seem very comfortable.

Opening event 

The first event of the convention was the recital that Monday night at the National Cathedral by Nathan Laube. The buses were hopelessly late with inadequate seating, so some of us jumped into cars and raced across town to the cathedral, which stands on the city’s highest hill, Mount St. Alban, making it easy to find. It never fails to impress. I sat in the Great Choir just in front of the console and enjoyed the view in this massive Gothic church. I was surrounded by pipes on three sides. Cathedral organist Scott Dettra greeted us and introduced the performer. Laube began with Cathedrals from Vierne’s Pièces de Fantaisie, op. 55, no. 4. He plumbed the depths of the huge stone space and the massive
E. M. Skinner foundation stops in a wonderful piece well suited to the occasion. Next was Pierre Cochereau’s Berceuse à la mémoire de Louis Vierne, transcribed by Frédéric Blanc. Like the first piece, it moved through the vast room at a majestic pace—quietly at first, then bringing in the gorgeous Skinner strings. Laube slowly added the reeds, culminating in a solo on the Tuba Mirabilis. He pulled back to the strings, along with what I believe was an 8′ flute and a nazard in the right hand, and clarinet in the pedal. It was a brilliant demonstration of this organ’s huge range of orchestral color.

Laube then explored the neo-classic sounds of this instrument with Two Fantasies by Jehan Alain. He closed the first half of the program with a wild, neo-classic-style piece Dupré wrote in memory of his father—a Tutti that was astonishing in its power. Following intermission he offered salutes to two gentlemen associated with this cathedral: Leo Sowerby and Richard Wayne Dirksen. Sowerby’s Requiescat in Pace used the “subtle colors” of Skinner’s “Sowerby Swell”—lovely strings, solo stops, and chimes. The hymn was Rejoice, ye pure in heart to the tune Vineyard Haven by Richard Wayne Dirksen. Our “Hosannas” made a joyous roar that matched the organ. 

Laube ended with his own transcription of Liszt’s Les Préludes. Great salvos of sound were hurled through the arches of the cathedral. The familiar melodies, both loud and soft, fell on our ears like the voices of old and dear friends. We heard the Trumpet-en-Chamade (which is mounted above the reredos) and the 32′ Bombarde for the first time. At other times, the Harp “plucked” away. For an encore he played Messiaen’s L’Ascension: II – Alléluias sereins—a perfect end to a truly extraordinary recital.

Tuesday, June 28, 2011

The first full day of the convention dawned bright and sunny with an amazing blue sky, making the sight of our first stop in Alexandria, Virginia, even more outstanding than it might have been. Standing atop Shuter’s Hill was the George Washington Masonic Memorial—a massive, tall, white stone structure, designed to resemble the ancient lighthouse of Alexandria, Egypt. The tower, completed in 1932, is capped with a pyramid. Inside was a great semi-circular hall lined with columns behind amphitheater-style seating. A large portrait of George Washington, dressed in his Masonic apron, hangs at the back of the stage. The three-manual Möller, Opus 8540 from 1953, was designed by Ernest White and Richard O. Whitelegg. The Atlas stated that White’s contribution was a Choir division with independent mutations and a Cromorne. The console was on the floor and against the stage, while the pipes were in the ceiling, speaking through an elaborate Art Deco grille.

Charles Miller, organist at National City Christian Church in Washington, D.C., opened with Marche aux Flambeaux by Frederick Scotson Clark, complete with trumpet fanfares. Next came Introduction and Fugue in D Minor by John Zundel. The introduction had alternating ff and mp sections, and the fugue moved along with zeal. I was struck by this organ’s strong bass sounds. Then Sowerby’s Chorale Prelude on Picardy showed off the softer side of this organ, especially the lovely Möller strings and flutes, and a rather thin Cromorne. 

Miller then played Mendelssohn’s Sonata II in C Minor. He drew dark and ponderous sounds for the Grave section, and the Adagio featured many opportunities for solo stops. The Allegro maestoso was brought off with just the right amount of style, as was the fugue. Dudley Buck’s Scherzo (from the Grand Sonata in E-flat) worked very well on this organ, as did Buck’s Variations on the Star Spangled Banner. The hymn was O Beautiful for Spacious Skies, a very moving song to sing in our nation’s capital. 

We were divided into two groups because the next venues were small. My group went to Holy Trinity Episcopal Church in Collington, Maryland, where we heard Phillip L. Stimmel, an authority on Estey organs, play an Estey: Opus 655 (1908), two manuals, eight ranks, with tubular-pneumatic action. The Praeludium in A Minor by Clarence Eddy was a nice demonstration of the warm foundation stops. Ballade in D Minor by Joseph Clokey began on the Swell Stopped Diapason plus tremolo, with alternating passages on a particularly sweet Great Dulciana. An agreeable solo on the Swell reedless Oboe preceded a buildup to full organ; it then came back down to the opening sounds. In Beach’s Prelude on an Old Folk Tune, “The Fair Hills Of Eire, O,” Stimmel explored all the colors and registrations of this eight-rank organ, making it seem like a much larger instrument. Next was a favorite, Will o’ the Wisp by Gordon Balch Nevin. The hymn was O holy city, seen of John (Morning Song). Stimmel closed with Gardner Reed’s Once more, my soul, the rising day (Consolation, same tune as Morning Song), another good choice for this organ.

My group then went to St. Paul Moravian Church in Upper Marlboro, Maryland, to hear the church’s E. & G. G.
Hook & Hastings Opus 702 (1873), which has been enlarged and rebuilt by David M. Storey, Inc. between 1985 and 2010. Built for the temporary home of Trinity Episcopal Church in Boston, it was used until the present sanctuary was constructed. At some point it was moved down to the D.C. area. St. Paul’s first church was dedicated in 1972, and a second in 1985. The Hook organ was purchased in 1986. It sits in a transept of sorts to the right of the altar in this smallish modern red brick church, whose proud members welcomed us warmly.

Kevin Clemens, of Aberdeen, Maryland, opened with Tone Poem in F, op. 22, no. 1, by Niels Gade. Next was Arioso in the Ancient Style by James H. Rogers, which used the Oboe with tremolo. Then came Caprice by Cuthbert Harris, charming and well played, and Elevation from Messe Basse by Louis Vierne, in which we heard the rather nice Celeste, which was actually the former Great Dulciana. Next, The Cuckoo (Scherzino) by Powell Weaver, which featured the Oboe and the Melodia. The hymn was Sing praise to God who reigns above (Mit Freuden Zart). We were asked to sing harmony on the middle verse, but alas, our printed harmony was not what was played; we sang out with gusto, nonetheless. Clemens closed his program with Sousa’s Liberty Bell March. 

The next stop was St. John’s Episcopal Church, Broad Creek, King George Parish, Fort Washington, Maryland to hear Peter Crisafulli play the beautiful little Jacob Hilbus organ from 1819. Hilbus, born in Westphalia, Germany, was the first organbuilder in Washington. I would encourage the reader to see Michael Friesen’s excellent article in this convention’s Atlas on Hilbus’s work, and on this particular organ, as well as the fine article by convention chair Carl Schwartz. It is a lovely instrument to behold, with delicately carved pipe shades, one manual and no pedal. The sound was sweet and gentle. Crisafulli began with General Washington’s March by an anonymous composer. Cornet Voluntary by John Travers followed. We heard the Principal 4′ (played an octave lower) for the first time. Crisafulli is also an excellent composer, as we heard in his next selection: Greensleeves (from In Sweet Jubilee—A Suite of Carols for Harpsichord), played on the lovely 8′ Stopped Diapason. He next played Adagio by Mozart on the Flute 4′, which alternated with the exquisitely soft Dulciana Treble. We then heard the first Samuel Sebastian Wesley works of the convention: Choral Song—elegant, graceful music—followed by the livelier Prelude and Fugue. I enjoyed his adding the Sesquialtera in the fugue, giving a bit of bite. The hymn was From all that dwell below the skies (Old 100th). A wonderful recital on a beautiful and very historic instrument—Crisafulli did a masterful job demonstrating its many charms!

Late in the afternoon, we arrived at the Old Presbyterian Meeting House in Alexandria, Virginia, for a recital by Samuel Baker, director of the D.C. AGO Foundation. The 1849 one-manual (no pedal) Henry Erben organ stands at the front of the church behind the pulpit. In the Voluntary by William Croft, the 8′ Open Diapason alternated with a bright solo combination. Next, Festival Overture from Cutler & Johnson’s American Church Organ Voluntaries (1856). The hymn was As with gladness men of old (Dix), followed by David Dahl’s Variations on the Hymn Tune Dix. We heard a clear 4′ flute, flutes 8′ and 2′, a lovely Dulciana, a jaunty 8′ and 4′, and a fine Trumpet 8′. Stephen Schnurr presented the church with an OHS Historic Citation to encourage the preservation of this very good organ. Baker then went to this church’s other organ, which stood in the rear gallery: a Lively-Fulcher (1997) of two manuals and pedal, with mechanical key action and electric stop action. He performed Gerre Hancock’s beautiful Air (1963)—lovely sounds played with great feeling. The program ended with another hymn: Ye watchers and ye holy ones (Lasst uns Erfreuen).

The evening concert took place at Capitol Hill United Methodist Church. The building is modern in style, tall and narrow with red brick walls. It stands on the site of the birthplace of J. Edgar Hoover—the large “west end” window commemorates that historic fact. The organ, a large and sumptuous 1936 Möller, was built for Covenant-First Presbyterian Church, which later became the National Presbyterian Church. David Storey is the hero in the restoration of this priceless gem, once considered old fashioned. The organ originally had been voiced by Richard O. Whitelegg, who came to Möller from England, where he worked for Harrison & Harrison, August Gern, and Henry Willis. The Atlas states that he voiced the powerful flue stops for the Liverpool Cathedral organ. 

The organ is in the front of the church, with chambers on either side of the chancel and a smaller chamber in the left wall of the nave for the solo division. The walls of the brick nave are windowless at the clerestory level, but a large window in back has the image of the risen Christ in chunks of colored glass embedded in concrete. 

Ken Cowan began his recital with Marche héroïque by Herbert Brewer. A gutsy opening gave way to a majestic and expansive tune; at the close, the melody was played on full organ. The Soul of the Lake, op. 96, no. 1 (Pastels from the Lake of Constance) by Karg-Elert followed—a marvelously impressionistic piece, deliciously played. Next came a thundering reading of Mozart’s Fantasia in F Minor, K. 608. The hymn was Songs of thankfulness and praise (Salzburg). Cowan leads and supports in perfect proportion—ever aware of the text, the music, and the singers. The first half closed with Prelude to Act III, Parsifal, by Wagner in an arrangement by Frederic Archer. The Solo division’s French Horn stop got a workout. Cowan is a master colorist.

The second half opened with Henry Martin’s Prelude and Fugue in B Minor, a piece commissioned by Michael Barone. This was fairly tempestuous music. The fugue began in the pedal and quoted the theme of the prelude. Next was Schumann’s Canon in B Minor, Canon in A-flat Major, and Fugue on B-A-C-H. We heard the variety of reed and foundation tone on this fine organ. I especially enjoyed the A-flat Major, the end of which employed the large Tromba 8′ on the Solo, and then pulled back to the lovely Swell strings. 

We then heard Cowan’s transcription of Danse macabre by Saint-Saëns. The whole church seemed to sway back and forth to this wonderful music. Cowan made good use of the percussion on the organ: Chimes, Harp, and Celesta. He closed with Dupré’s Deux Esquisses, op. 41—totally virtuosic and muscular playing. He treated us to an encore: Roulade by Seth Bingham, a perfect bonbon to follow a concert that was like an incredibly rich and hearty meal.

Wednesday, June 29

We began the day on Capitol Hill at the towering St. Joseph R.C. Church, whose cornerstone was laid in 1868. It was intended to be used by the German-speaking Catholics of Washington, D.C., and architect Michael Stegmeier used his hometown’s cathedral (Cologne, Germany) as its model. The neo-gothic structure has a very high ceiling painted blue with gold stars. But the real gem for us was the magnificent three-manual, 29-rank Hook & Hastings organ, Opus 1491 from 1891. It has been restored/rebuilt many times, most recently by Bozeman-Gibson, Inc. in 1986. David Storey now tends to this highly regarded instrument.

George Bozeman Jr. entitled his program “Christmas in June.” He began with Reger’s Weihnachten, op. 145, no. 3, which began softly with the strings. The church’s air conditioning, though welcome, was terribly noisy, making much of the music nearly inaudible. The piece incorporated four different carols, ending with Stille Nacht. Bozeman played with a wonderful sense of feeling and sensitivity. Dudley Buck’s attractive Prelude (from The Coming of the King, Cantata for Advent and Christmas) incorporated “Silent Night” and “Adeste fideles.” The hymn was Adeste Fideles, which we sang powerfully in the resonant acoustic of this beautiful church.

Next was a wonderful Allegro by Katherine E. Lucke (1875–1962), which demonstrated the light and agile flute sounds of this fabulous organ. Bozeman closed with his own fine transcription of Four Fleeting Pieces, op. 15 by Clara Schumann. It was a good tour of the organ’s solo stops, and he played all very well; each musical line was beautifully shaped and controlled. We all enjoyed this recital and were quite smitten with this fantastic organ.

The second recital of the morning was at St. Martin of Tours R.C. Church, an attractive building completed in 1939 in the Florentine Renaissance style. A sign was tied between the two pillars on either side of the central door: WELCOME ALL SINNERS. I didn’t know what to make of that, but I certainly felt accommodated. The organ—Möller Opus 6809, three manuals, 22 ranks—stands in the rear gallery and speaks into a most favorable acoustic. There is reason to believe that Möller’s Richard O. Whitelegg worked on this organ. The Atlas states, “Most pipework was old and of unknown origin.” The Clarinet stop was terrific!

Carolyn Lamb Booth opened with a strong reading of Guilmant’s Grand Triumphal Chorus in A Major, op. 47, no. 2. The powerful sounds of this organ filled the space evenly; I liked the Trumpet. Next, Edward Bairstow’s Evening Song, registered perfectly. The hymn was “Christ, be our light.” Organ and organist led it convincingly. After that, the beautiful Elegy by George Thalben-Ball showed the many lovely solo stops and was nicely played. (I noted the Catholic Church in its current state of transition: the confessionals were used to store old kneelers.) The closing piece was Saint-Saëns’ Prelude and Fugue in E-Flat Major, op. 99, no. 3, perfectly suited to this fine organ and organist.

The final stop of the morning was at the lovely St. Gabriel’s R.C. Church in Washington, D.C., to hear its Lewis & Hitchcock, Opus 165 (1930) of two manuals and pedal, 21 ranks. It stands in a divided case on either side of the rear gallery of this English Tudor-style building, whose cornerstone was laid in 1930. We were greeted with the sound of bells—extra points! Upon entering, we encountered the smell of good incense—more extra points! Stephen J. Morris began his program with a hymn, Sing to God! Lift up your voices (Alchester). Robust OHS singing matched the organ very well in that great acoustic! 

Morris’s first selection was Mendelssohn’s War March of the Priests, which showed the strength of this organ’s sound as we enjoyed this cruciform church with its beautiful glass and elegant appointments. Next was Andante ‘Choeur de Voix humaines’, op. 122, no. 7, by Lefébure-Wély. The Great’s very beautiful Gross Flute made bubbly sounds against the Swell’s equally fine Vox Humana. Then Seth Bingham’s Rhythmic Trumpet (from Baroques, op. 41), followed by another character piece, The Squirrel by Powell Weaver—an entertaining bit of whimsey played with good humor. 

Next was Liszt, Introduction and Fugue (after Johann Sebastian Bach, from Cantata 21, Ich hatte viel Bekümmernis), played with broad authority and featuring the organ’s fine plenum. That was followed by a little composition that featured the Oboe: Allegretto in E-flat, op. 17, no. 2 by William Wolstenholme (1865–1931)—cute music. Then came the beautiful Claire de Lune from Karg-Elert’s Trois Impressions, op. 72—lovely music well chosen for organ, space, and audience. Morris played it exquisitely right down to the last ppp on the Aeoline. The recital ended with the March upon a Theme of Handel, op. 15, no. 2, by Guilmant. A fine performance and concert, which demonstrated the organ most admirably.

Following a box lunch, my group made its way to the Armed Forces Retirement Home, founded in 1851. It sits high on a hill overlooking the city of Washington. Abraham Lincoln spent a lot of time there escaping the heat of summer. The rolling grounds are extensive, tranquil, and very green with lots of trees and grass. The organ was in Stanley Hall, a facility built for recreation and entertainment, but now used a chapel. The organ, a two-manual and pedal instrument built by Stevens & Jewett (ca. 1855), is interesting for its 18-note pedalboard. The 16′ Double Open Diapason has only 12 pipes. The Atlas states: “From second C the pedals simply repeat the pipes in the bottom octave.” The instrument was acquired through the Organ Clearing House, having come from the former Universalist Church in Mechanics Falls, Maine. David Moore did the restoration. 

Rosalind Mohnsen opened her program with Allegro moderato maestoso by Mendelssohn, which had a fine majestic march feel to it. Then came John Stanley’s Voluntary in A, op. 7, no. 1, Adagio—Allegro. The Adagio was played on the Great Open Diapason—a warm and widely scaled sound. The Allegro used some lovely softer but bright stops on the Swell. Next, Gavotte Pastorale by Frederick Shackley (1868–1937). The Swell alternated with the Great Diapasons, then some of the Swell 8′ stops with tremolo—a good piece that showed some of the many colors of this organ. The hymn was, appropriately, Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord (Battle Hymn of the Republic). Mohnsen always chooses hymns and pieces with great care so that they are well suited to the instrument and place at hand. Her next selection was Abraham Lincoln’s Funeral March, op. 7 (1865), “In memory of a Country’s Martyred Father” by William Wolsieffer. Paul Marchesano hand pumped the organ. The piece showed more of the organ’s color, the fine reeds in particular. 

Next came Melodie (Homage to Grieg) by George Elbridge Whiting (1840–1923), which carefully demonstrated more solo stop combinations. Mohnsen closed with Marche militaire by Scotson Clark (1841–1883), a snappy number in which we heard more of the reeds. 

We next visited St. John’s Evangelical Lutheran Church, Riverdale, Maryland, which possesses a sweet little Jardine organ, originally built in 1853 as a one manual, and enlarged to two manuals in 1890. After several church “homes”, it had been purchased by OHS member Carolyn Fix, who sold it to St. John’s in 1988, and was rebuilt and enlarged by James Baird. It stands at the rear of this smallish cement block structure. Lawrence Young began with four selections from The Green Mountain Organ Book by Charles Callahan. In Prelude and Fugue we heard the lovely 8′ foundation stops. Rondeau used Great 8′ and 4′ in the A section, while the B sections used the Swell 4′ and 2′ with shades closed. It ended with Procession, which closed quietly. The next selection was Mendelssohn’s Prelude and Fugue in G Major, op. 37, no. 2, which started on the Great 8′ and 4′ Principals. The fugue was solidly played. Following that, Young played Daniel Pinkham’s Be Thou My Vision: Partita on Slane, a good demonstration piece. We then sang the hymn on which the partita was based. It was all very enjoyable.

For the afternoon’s last recital, our buses climbed up the hill to the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception, Crypt Church, to hear the 1987 Schudi organ (two manuals, 23 stops, 25 ranks) built in the style of Gottfried Silbermann. The organ stands in a wide transept to the right of the altar.

Peter Latona, director of music at the shrine, began with Buxtehude’s Praeludium in F-sharp minor, BuxWV 146. In that acoustic, the effect was splendid; clean, clear sound, emanating from the polished tin pipes, filled the space. It was a superb performance, full of life, grace, and vigor. Then the Andante from Bach’s Trio Sonata IV, BWV 528, using an 8′ flute on each manual and 16′ and 8′ flutes in the pedal—a warm and inviting sound. Next, O Gott, du frommer Gott, op. 122, no. 7, by Brahms, showed the rich 8′ foundation stops. Then Latona played Joseph Jongen’s Petit Prelude, soloing out the tune on the Swell Schalmey, showing more of the romantic side of this organ. 

Then came a special treat: a series of improvisations creating a Suite on Rendez a Dieu. I. Trompette en taille; II. was the hymn itself, which we all sang; III. was a trio with the Cornet in the left hand; IV. was a Grand jeux complete with a duo in the middle. Very skillful improvisation founded securely in the French Baroque style. Latona made me wish that I lived in Washington, D.C. so I could hear him play every Sunday. 

Following a most tasty buffet dinner at the Pryzbyla Center, Catholic University of America, buses took us to Immaculate Conception Church in Washington, D.C. to hear Bruce Stevens play the evening recital on the church’s 1879 Steer & Turner organ, Opus 131 (two manuals, 25 stops). The church is a large sort of Tudor Gothic with tall windows. The program opened with Festive Prelude on the Chorale ‘Lobe den Herren’ by Niels Gade (1822–1890), which started with long chords and then led into a more “festive” reading of the melody going from manual to manual. That led to the hymn, Praise ye the Lord, the almighty (Lobe den Herren). Our “Let the Amen!” in that acoustic was something to hear!

Stevens then played Partita sopra Aria della Folia da Espagna by Bernardo Pasquini (1637–1710). I was amazed at how well this very 19th-century organ could sound in this music. Next, an Allegro by João de Sousa Carvalho (1745–1798).Then Bach’s Prelude and Fugue in A Minor, BWV 543. The fugue was especially fine—masterful and profoundly musical playing! We then heard George Shearing’s setting of Amazing Grace, which was not in the program. Next was Saturnus (from The Planets: Suite of Seven Pieces for Organ) by Bent Lorentzen (b. 1935); lots of repeated chords accompanying a melodic line—wild music! 

Stevens then closed this fine program with Rheinberger’s Sonata No. 9 in B-flat Minor, op. 142. I especially enjoyed the second movement, Romanze, which was a good demonstration of the exquisite flutes on this instrument, as well as the quiet foundation stops. Movement three, Fantasie und Finale–Fuga, showed the clarity of the plenum. This is a very fine organ. The Fantasie contained Buxtehude-like runs, and the very well-conceived Fuga was performed with clear and refined style that comes with a long association with this music. It was a glorious evening!

Thursday, June 30

Lorenz Maycher began this day for us on a nearly mint-condition E. M. Skinner, Opus 744, from 1928, at the Church of the Pilgrims (Presbyterian) in Washington, D.C. It has three manuals and about 30 stops and stands in the rear gallery divided on either side of the window. Maycher is a specialist with Skinner organs. He played an entire program of music by Richard Purvis, beginning with Toccata Festiva. It was exciting music and playing—the organ filling the space nicely. The hymn was There’s a wideness in God’s mercy (In Babilone). He then played the popular Melody in Mauve, which sounded wonderful on this beautiful organ. Next was another popular piece, Les Petites Cloches, which featured the chimes and harp. Then, Idyl, with the lovely Flute Celeste II accompanying the Concert Flute, followed by the Vox Humana. 

Repentance was the next piece and showed the softer foundation stops, followed by the strings and then the larger foundation stops; the Tutti came on, but the piece ended with the softest strings. Maycher ended this lovely program with Thanksgiving, which began with the Great Tuba blasting out a fanfare in dialogue with the Swell reeds. A quiet B section, featuring the Clarinet, led us back to the beginning. Wonderful music, brilliantly played on a gorgeous American organ! 

The next stop was Epiphany R.C. Church in Georgetown to enjoy its two-manual, 11-stop Hook & Hastings, Opus 1623. Built in 1894 for a music room in Boston, it eventually found its way to this small and charming church. David M. Storey Inc. restored the organ in 2003. It stands in the rear balcony, its pipes painted in warm yet bright colors. Convention chair Carl Schwartz described this organ brilliantly in the Atlas: “This musical instrument reveals its charms in subtle ways, much like a fine wine unfolding before the senses. As with most Hook & Hastings organs of this modest type, it proves to be far more than the sum of its parts.” 

Kimberly Hess opened with Buxtehude’s Toccata in F Major, BuxWV 157, which worked very well on this 1894 organ. The hymn was I sing the mighty power of God (Mozart). She then played no. X from 23 Préludes liturgiques by Gaston Litaize. We heard the beautiful and careful voicing of the smaller sounds on this lovely organ; each stop is satisfying in every way. Then C.P.E. Bach’s Sonata in D Major, Wq 70/5, which showed refined 8′ and 4′ sounds in the Allegro di molto. In the Adagio e mesto she used the Swell Stopped Diapason with tremolo to good effect. The Allegro was cheerful and bright with good dialogue between the manuals. Hess ended her fine concert with two selections from Arthur Foote’s Seven Pieces for Organ, op. 71. Cantilena in G featured a solo on the organ’s gorgeous Oboe. The melody was spun out for us with warmth and just the right amount of flexibility. Toccata moved well in the opening A section, coming to a restful B section. It finished big, using the sub and super couplers from the Swell. First-rate playing on a first-rate organ. 

The last stop of the morning was at the sprawling and beautiful Washington Hebrew Congregation, begun in 1856. The present building was completed in 1955. The organ, a large three-manual Aeolian-Skinner, Opus 1285, was installed in 1956. The organ stands in front of the room, although the pipes (and organist) are hidden. There is beautiful tone and balance within the divisions. Two well-known organists have served this congregation: German composer and scholar Herman Berlinski, and B. Michael Parrish, a student of Herbert Howells and George Thalben-Ball. Mr. Parrish began with very soft flute sounds in Sabbath Eve by Robert Starer (1924–2001). Next a piece by one of his teachers: George Thalben-Ball’s Elegy—a great piece that built to a fine roar. Then a piece by another of his teachers: Herbert Howells’s Master Tallis’s Testament, with a beautiful solo sound from the Choir. Next was a very moving In Memoriam by Herman Berlinski (played in memory of Sina G. Berlinski). That was followed by “Rosh Hashana” from Funf Fest-Preludien, op. 37, by Louis Lewandowski, and then the hymn The God of Abraham praise (Yigdal). A very beautiful and meaning-filled program.

We then made our way to Washington’s National City Christian Church, a building designed by John Russell Pope, who also designed the National Archives, the Jefferson Memorial, and the National Gallery—so one can imagine that it is indeed an imposing structure fronted with a huge sweeping staircase. It opened circa 1929. The first organ was by the Skinner Organ Company, Opus 824 (four manuals, 55 ranks). Like many of those grand old E. M. Skinner organs, it was deemed old fashioned by mid-century, and in the 1960s it began to be greatly enlarged by the Möller Company and others until it reached its present size of five manuals and 141 ranks, including a large Antiphonal division in the rear of the church. The main organ stands in the front of this basilica-like structure behind the apse and four huge granite columns—all of this in a building smaller than several of the larger Catholic churches we had visited. It is the third largest organ in the city, but it is in a building smaller, it seemed, than of one of the National Cathedral’s transepts. Perhaps E. M. had the right idea about proportion for the space. This is a very loud organ, and too big for the church.

The legendary and brilliant organist, composer, and teacher John Weaver gave a terrific program. He opened with Bach’s Wir glauben all an einen Gott, S. 680 (Clavierübung Part III). It was a bit of a shock to hear this Möller with its 1975-era mixtures after two and a half days of more subtle mixture sound. Next was Mozart’s Adagio and Allegro in F Minor, K 594. The Adagio was lovely, but the Allegro was a bit over the top with the power and aggressiveness of the registration choices. Weaver played it very well with good attention to detail, but it was just too loud. I found myself wondering if he had trouble judging the level of the sounds as the pipes spoke over the player’s head, sending all the sound into the nave. 

Then Karg-Elert’s Five Chorale Improvisations from opus 65. 1. Wie schön leuchtet der Morgenstern used the lovely strings and soft foundation stops. 2. O Gott, du frommer Gott used several levels of foundation tone. 3. Herr Jesu Christ, dich zu uns wend was quite loud and seemed to demand Christ’s presence among us—brilliant playing with a wild pedal part! 4. Herzlich lieb hab ich dich, o Herr—gorgeous music with a gentle echo after each phrase; we heard the famous Handbells stop on this organ—interesting, but I wasn’t crazy about them. 5. Nun danket alle Gott was the well-known piece often played at weddings. It was another case, however, of over-use of the loud sounds. This organ is simply too big for this room.

Next came one of Weaver’s own compositions, Carillon (2002), which used the Handbell stop. The bells were accompanied by gurgling flutes—very nice music. The hymn was Surely the Lord is in this place to the tune Madison Avenue by Weaver. He then played a piece he wrote based on his hymn tune Meyers Park, following by the singing of the hymn. Weaver closed with his famous Toccata for Organ (1958). It was very exciting, but, with this instrument, it was painfully loud. One longed for the old E. M. Skinner organ that first graced this church.

The bus caravan deposited us at the lovely All Souls Unitarian Church in Washington, D.C. The congregation traces itself back as far as 1815, but the present church, styled after St. Martin in the Fields, London, was built in 1923. The organ was built by Rieger in 1969, a tracker of four manuals, 60 registers, and 96 ranks. It was an important instrument in its time and attracted quite a bit of attention, with a Rückpositiv and an enclosed Brustwerk that has glass shades. It also was the first, it is said, to have computerized combination action with multiple memory levels. To our ears it sounds dated, but in its day I’m sure it was a revelation. There is still much to admire in this instrument. 

Eileen Morris Guenther opened with Bach’s Prelude and Fugue in C, BWV 547 (“the 9/8”). I would have liked to hear more articulation in the playing, which seemed rushed with many dropped passing tones. All the drama in that wonderful fugue was lost. Next, Prelude for the Organ in G Major by Fanny Hensel (née Mendelssohn-Bartholdy). The mid-20th century mixtures got in the way of an otherwise good performance. Then Robert Schumann’s Sketch in D-flat, which used the 8′ foundations and flutes. Staying in the Schumann family, we heard Clara’s Prelude and Fugue for Organ, op. 16, no. 3, played very well. Two spirituals by Joe Utterback (b. 1944) followed: Swing Low, Sweet Chariot (blues for manuals) and Balm in Gilead. I enjoyed her fine performance of them, which showed the pretty soft string sounds. The hymn, a new setting of “A Mighty Fortress” by Emma Lou Diemer (Reformation), was not the easiest thing to sing. This was an instructive recital that showcased the transitional state of organ building midway through the last century.

The evening program was Solemn Evensong and Benediction of the Most Blessed Sacrament at St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, K Street in Washington. D.C. My bus got lost and we barely made it on time. Since all the pews were occupied, I got to sit in a row of chairs set up in front of the front pew—a great view of all the proceedings. The church was founded in 1866, but the present building dates from 1948. It is very traditional, with all the high church trimmings, great acoustics, and a four-manual Schoenstein & Co. organ of 52 voices and 65 ranks. The organ and choir are divided on either side of the chancel, and there is a Tuba Mirabilis mounted on the liturgical west end (the pipes stand vertically). The volunteer choir was superb in every way, led by director of music and organist Robert McCormick, and accompanied by assistant director of music John Bradford Bohl. 

The pre-service voluntary was Rhein-berger’s Introduction and Passacaglia from Sonata No. 8 in E Minor. It was marvelously played, but I could not tell by whom. The responsory was by Hancock, the preces were by Philip Radcliffe, and the psalms were sung to Anglican chants by Stanford and Thalben-Ball. The organ was perfect for the proper accompaniment of Anglican chant; amazing effects could be created by the swell boxes within swell boxes. Each line of the psalms was carefully prepared by the organist, and the choir sang with proper style and grace. 

The office hymn was All praise to thee, for thou, O King divine (Engelberg). Now, if you have never been to an OHS convention, the hymn singing is amazing. So it was with a certain amusement that I noted a few of the choir members looking out at us with widened eyes as if to say “Who are these people?” We fed each other as congregation, choir, and organ raised the song from our collective hearts to amazing heights—it was an unforgettable moment! The Magnificat and Nunc dimittis came from Evening Service No. 2 in E-flat Major by Charles Wood. It was a powerful sound—McCormick drew astonishing sounds from his forces. After the prayers, they sang the Salve Regina, and then one of my favorite anthems, Te Lucis ante terminum by Henry Balfour Gardiner. That was followed by Benediction. The closing voluntary was a stunning improvisation. It was an unforgettable evening, both musically and spiritually.

Friday, July 1

Our day began at the beautiful National Presbyterian Church in Washington, D.C. with a recital by that church’s organist, William Neil. The church was established in 1947, but has connections dating back to 1780. The present building was opened in 1969. The organ was one of the last Aeolian-Skinner organs, and has been altered many times since then. A Solo division was added in 2010 using several E. M. Skinner ranks. The organ has four manuals and seven divisions. It was featured at the AGO convention in 2010 in a concert by Nathan Laube. I was eager to hear the Skinner Solo division ranks, as they were not playing for that recital. Neil’s fine recital began with Mendelssohn’s Sonata in F Minor, op. 65, no. 1. In the first movement we heard the clear and never overwhelming plenum, with echos on an 8′ reed. The beautiful Adagio showed the lovely strings along with several excellent solo stops including the French Horn. The Andante used the Antiphonal 8′ and 4′ flutes against a reed chorus on the main organ in front. The Antiphonal is at the back of the room, while the main organ is behind a screen on the front wall. The Allegro assai vivace burst forth with extraordinary energy and power. This was one of the most exciting performances I’ve ever heard of this piece. 

In Elgar’s Nimrod (from Enigma Variations, op. 36), the organ’s gorgeous and lush strings were on full display; the clear Clarinet uttered its plaintive cry. The marvelous crescendo began building seamlessly to full organ, then tumbled gently back down to a breathless ppp—it was brilliantly achieved. Next came J. S. Bach’s Passacaglia and Fugue in C Minor. Neil began on quiet flutes. His trills were flawless, and the calm pedal was unruffled by the increasingly busy manual parts. This was a fabulous performance of one of the great monuments of western civilization. My only criticism of this concert was that there was too much loud music. Our ears needed more variety. Stunning though this performance was, we had a long day ahead of us. The hymn was O Lord, You are my God and King (Jerusalem).

We made our way through the tree-lined streets of Washington, D.C. to St. Columba’s Episcopal Church in a quiet neighborhood. A handsome church, it looks as though it would be right at home in an English village. Built in 1926–1927, its first organ was a Lewis & Hitchcock that was replaced in 1981 by the present organ, a two-manual, 25-rank Flentrop that the company enlarged in 2003, adding three stops to the pedal. It stands majestically in the liturgical north transept. 

Mark Steinbach began with Philip Glass’s Mad Rush (1981), which worked well on this organ. Next, Bruhns’s Kleine Praeludium in E Minor, played freely and skillfully. This piece provides good opportunity to vary registration—a plus at an OHS convention. There were a few inner rhythmic patterns that were hurried, but he got the big overall shape of this piece quite nicely, and the organ was lovely. Then came Buxtehude’s chorale prelude on Nun komm’ der Heiden Heiland in a beautiful demonstration of the Hoodfwerk Cornet—played with wonderful sensitivity and flexibility. Keeping with that same chorale, the hymn was Savior of the nations, come. The organ held its own leading our vigorous singing—good playing!

My teacher in college, Miriam Clapp Duncan, was Anton Heiller’s second American student. So I was eager to hear the next piece, Nun Komm’ der Heiden Heiland—Eight Variations (1972), by Anton Heiller. (Steinbach has recorded a forthcoming CD of the music of Anton Heiller’s music.) He used the full range of this organ. I especially liked the Borstwerk 4′ Roerfluit, which seemed to chirp. Steinbach closed with more Philip Glass: Satyagraha, Act III, Conclusion (1980). While it was interesting to hear, for me, at least, it soon wore out its welcome. He did build a fine crescendo. This is a very good organ, and Steinbach gave an excellent tour of it. 

The next organ was a major historic treat: a nearly intact three-manual Henry Erben organ from 1850—very rare, and very exciting for us OHS’ers. This was at Trinity United Methodist Church in McLean, Virginia. The congregation can trace its beginnings back to 1820. They built their present Georgian-style church in 1961. The organ was originally built for Monumental Episcopal Church in Richmond, Virginia. In 1926 they replaced it with a Skinner, keeping the Erben façade, which was silenced. The Erben pipes went to another church. James Baird managed to put the Erben back together between 1975 and 1997. It now stands rather proudly in the front of this sanctuary. Nearly all the pipework has been restored, with three rare Erben reed stops. The organ has a painted white case with gold trim. There are dentils adorning the tops of the towers. The capitals at the tops of the towers have carved flowers painted colorfully. The church created needlepoint kneelers using the case designs. Convention chair Carl Schwartz, in introducing the concert, called the organ “a national treasure.” 

Before the recital began, we had the annual meeting, which included the introduction of the four E. Power Biggs Fellows to this convention. The Fellows get an all-expense-paid trip to the convention. Many eventually become performers at subsequent conventions and go on to great success in the organ world. We also had a delightful preview of next summer’s convention in Chicago.

Kevin Birch began his program with Concerto in G Major, BWV 592 (after Ernst) by J. S. Bach. In the Allegro he used the Great 8′ 4′ 2′ in alternation with the Swell. The second movement, Grave, used flutes 8′ with tremolo, a beautiful sound. The Presto was played with secure rhythm and nicely shaped phrases. Next, William Boyce’s Voluntary I in D. The Larghetto featured the very attractive 8′ Open Diapason; the Vivace featured the delicious Great Trumpet; I loved that sound—full bodied and true. Next, Muffat’s Aria sub elevazione (aria, three variations, aria), which worked quite well on this organ. Then, Mendelssohn’s Sonata No. 1 in F, op. 65. I especially enjoyed the fourth movement, when he added the thrilling 16′ Trombone in the Pedal. It was all good, solid playing on a really fine and certainly historic instrument! 

The hymn was Ye servants of God (Hanover). Guilmant’s Prière et Berceuse followed the hymn, beginning on a very quiet string. The Berceuse began with a solo on the Oboe. It was a gorgeous call from the past that made one long for the many organs that are lost. Thanks be that this one has come down to us virtually intact. The piece ended with the sweet sound of the Swell Dulciana and tremolo. Birch ended this marvelous recital with Grand Choeur in G Major by Théodore Solomon. After a sturdy beginning, a fugue started, using 8′ foundations and the Oboe, sounding very French. The Mixture came on with full organ, bringing the piece to an end—very good playing on a remarkably versatile organ!

And so we came to the final evening recital of the convention. Following a delicious meal at the American Indian Museum, we walked to St. Dominic’s R.C. Church, just a few blocks off the National Mall. It is a large gray granite church completed in 1875. It has seen several fires in its history. The church’s Hilborne Roosevelt Opus 290 dates from 1885: three manuals and 47 ranks. Originally a tracker, after various fires and rebuilds it is now on electro-pneumatic action. It enjoys a fantastic acoustic, is just the right size for the building, and stands in the rear gallery. 

Thomas Murray began with Rheinberger’s Sonata in G, op. 88, no. 3. The first part featured the fine plenum. Later we heard the beautiful Cornopean on the Swell. The closing movement was all fire and bravura. Then, Bossi’s Ave Maria, showing the lovely strings and flutes with tremolo, and Bossi’s Divertimento en forma de Giga—immaculate playing. Next, Guilmant’s Communion on Ecce panis angelorum on quiet 8′ and 4′ flutes, then the soft 8′ foundations. Guilmant’s Caprice in B-flat was a nice contrasting bit of whimsey, with chords tossed out into the great nave of this church—a charming sense of fun. Then, Grand Choeur on “Benedicamus Domino” (1934) by Guy Weitz. The Great and Swell reeds called back and forth. A fugue followed on the very good plenum—all very lively and yet grand. The hymn was There’s a wideness in God’s mercy (Blaenwern). 

Following intermission, Murray played Alfred Hollins’s Concert Overture in C Minor (1899). Bold, strong, and large chords were flung through the nave. The Swell reeds had a solo or two before returning to the Great. The piece gave voice to several solo stops and a fugue before returning to the opening material. Liszt’s Epilogue (from Années de Pèlerinage, Suisse) worked very well on the organ. Murray closed with Dupré’s Prelude and Fugue in G Minor, op. 7, no. 3, which made one want to get up and dance. It was a brilliant performance! 

Saturday, July 2

This was an “extra” day, with just three recitals. About half the convention attendees chose to go home following the Friday night recital. A few elected to stay, wanting to hear the Pomplitz organ that was on the schedule. However, the buses confounded our best intentions. The company only sent one bus, but we needed two. We all lined up in the usual manner behind the hotel. The first ones in line got on that bus. The rest of us waited for nearly two hours. It really was frustrating. But finally one came after several frantic phone calls. We missed the recital at St. Patrick’s in the City R.C. Church with its large three-manual 1994 Lively-Fulcher organ built in a French manner. The recitalist was Ronald Stolk. My apologies to all concerned that I was unable to review that recital. 

We did get to hear the August Pomplitz organ, No. 140, built in 1869 for Grace Episcopal Church in Alexandria. The organ was believed to have come to St. Vincent de Paul R.C. Church in Washington, D.C. about 1905—two manuals, 16 ranks with mechanical key and stop action. Carl Schwartz called it “a lovely instrument and a survivor.” It stands in the rear gallery of this little church. Philip T.D. Cooper started with Voluntary VII in G Major (from Ten Organ Voluntaries, op. 6) by John Stanley. Next, Flute Piece in F by William Hine. The flutes on this organ possess a rare beauty. Cooper handled the sounds with deftness and clarity. In Voluntary in A Minor by Lucien H. Southard (1827–1881), we heard the foundation stops, which ended in a fine fugal section.

Cooper’s own Fuga I tertii tone was a hit with the audience. The hymn was Jerusalem, my happy home, sung to Cooper’s tune, Kenny Dawson’s Mighty Hymn. We then heard this organ’s elegant strings in Tantum Ergo by John Henry Wilcox. The program closed with Postlude in A Major by George J. Webb.

The final concert of the convention was at St. Mary Mother of God R.C. Church in Washington, D.C., founded in 1845 for the German-speaking Catholics. The organ, which is in the rear balcony, is George S. Hutchings’ Opus 239 from 1891: two manuals, 27 ranks; it is nearly intact with its original tracker action. Timothy Edward Smith began with Bonnet’s Fantasy on Two Noels. A hymn followed: Sing of Mary, pure and holy (Raquel). Next, two selections from Seth Bingham’s Sixteen Carol Canons in Free Style. In Gabriel’s Salutation, which had  six canons, he demonstrated all manner of sounds small and great. Bring a Torch, Jeanette Isabelle had three canons. These were great organ demonstration pieces, with many refined colors.

Next was Myron Roberts’ Improvisation on God Rest You Merry. I loved the sweet little 8′ Dolcissimo stop on the Great. Then, Harvey Gaul’s The Christmas Pipes of County Clare. The flutes had their day in this charming and wonderful music. Get this music—your congregation will love you! A second hymn followed: Hark! the herald angels sing (Mendelssohn), then Balbastre’s Joseph is a good husband. The fine reeds on this organ were well displayed making a mighty Grands Jeux. The final piece, and the finale to the convention, was Fantasy on Two English Carols. The First Noel was nicely articulated. Good King Wenceslaus was heard on the Swell reeds, and then on the soft flues and flutes. The First Noel returned triumphantly! A grand conclusion to a grand convention.

This was another outstanding OHS convention. Carl Schwartz and his committee are all to be congratulated for an exceptional effort. The organs were in great shape, the venues were spectacular, the scholarship we saw in the Atlas, the Convention Handbook, and the Hymn Book evidenced their thoroughness and affection for the organs of the communities in which they are so blessed to live. And, of course, the beauty of our nation’s capital seemed to grace and welcome us at every turn. 

The 2012 OHS national convention takes place July 9–13 in Chicago. For information: www.organsociety.org.

Joseph E. Robinson received his B.A. from California State University at Long Beach and his M.A. from Occidental College in Los Angeles. He studied piano with Charles Shepherd, and organ with Clarence Mader, Paul Stroud, and Robert Prichard. He studied choral conducting with Frank Pooler and Howard Swan. During 1970–71 he was an organbuilding apprentice with the Schlicker Organ Co. under the direction of Herman Schlicker. He was organist at the University United Methodist Church in Buffalo, New York, and later St. James’ United Methodist Church in Pasadena, California. Now a retired business systems analyst, he is currently organist for the Mission Lake Ward, Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. His interest in pipe organs and their music was sparked years ago when, as a sixth grade student, his class was taken on a field trip to a recital on the Mormon Tabernacle Organ. He has been married 35 years to his wife Pat, who has given her support for the large pipe organ in their home. One day during construction Pat said, “You need help, and I have found just the help you need—G. Donald Harrison.” She had found a golden retriever named Harrison on a rescue site. Harrison is now a happy member of the family.

I meet Herman Schlicker  

After completing a master’s degree, I talked over options with my teacher, Robert Prichard. Since I was very interested in all things related to pipe organs, a career in organbuilding looked promising. Mr. Prichard was well acquainted with Herman Schlicker, and broached the subject of my joining his firm as an apprentice. Schlicker was not interested. He said that the best apprentices come right out of high school and he had bad luck with those who had master’s degrees.   

Herr Schlicker flew to Southern California on business, and so it was arranged that while he was here I would be his chauffeur. One stop that I remember was at what is now the Crystal Cathedral. Their first building contained a small Wicks organ, which was to be replaced with a substantial instrument. Schlicker was among the contenders. At another stop, I was disgusted with the way they treated Mr. Schlicker—didn’t they realize they were talking with a great man?

After our final stop, Schlicker said to come on to Buffalo, and I would be their newest apprentice. I drove my red Corvair across the country and rented a room from Mrs. Herbst, who had rented to many a Schlicker apprentice. She asked us to keep our stereo playing of organ music down—it reminded her of her husband’s funeral. 

The factory

The factory is described in sales literature from the late 1960s:

From a modest beginning, the company has expanded to include 65 persons at the Buffalo factory-office, as well as sales and service representatives throughout the United States. The construction of the present modern factory was begun in 1947, and since that time six additions have been made to the building, giving a total working area of over 36,000 square feet, and including a spacious erecting room. 

That there was no master plan for this expansion from the beginning was obvious. For example, there was a large room devoted to lumber, that in most respects functioned well. However, there was no loading dock, or even a door to the outside. When a lumber truck came, Herr Friedrich (foreman) would announce “LUMBER!” and we would all drop what we were doing and rush to the truck to unload the lumber piece by piece and feed them through a window in the lumber room. On a cold winter day, that was a very unpleasant task.

Factory tours

Occasionally music committees or groups of organists would tour the factory. I was among those selected to conduct the tours. At first I would meet visitors at the door and then physically take them through the building, saying this is where we do this, and this is where we do that. Then I witnessed a tour led by Manuel Rosales, who was then at Schlicker Organ Co. He started at the melting pot in the pipe shop, went step by step in the construction of an organ, ending in the erecting room. Even though there was some crisscrossing in that method, it explained the organbuilding process better, and I changed my approach accordingly.  

Organization chart

When Schlicker described the apprentice position to me, he said that I would work in all aspects of organbuilding and eventually be able to do any task. In fact, his factory was full of workers that could do any task. He was proud of that. So, organization was simple: Herman Schlicker, President; Ken List, Vice President; Herr Friedrich, Foreman; organ builders, and apprentice, with a few exceptions such as the accountant. In practice, however, people would tend to gravitate to that which they did best. Take Don Bohall, for example. In many organizations, he would be referred to as Service Manager. He could quickly diagnose and fix problems, clearly the best man to call if an organ under the ten-year warranty experienced an unexpected malfunction. I asked Don how he managed to be exempt from the lumber calls. He told me that after I had been there a few years and made myself valuable in a particular operation I could announce that I was no longer going to do lumber. But I would have to be sure I was valuable enough. Some who tried that too soon were no longer doing lumber or anything else at the firm.  

Apprentice duties

The apprentice program at Schlicker’s was more typical of the German apprentice system than what we are used to in the USA. The view at the Schlicker Organ Company was: we pay you for this time and so you do whatever we ask of you, be it sweeping, cleaning messes, painting walls, or shoveling snow! So this, I thought, is why people who have worked so hard for a master’s degree don’t like it here. I was told a story of one such, who after driving from California worked one day, got in his car and drove back home. One unhappy apprentice had given the place a nickname “Stalag 15-30” [the address was 1530 Military Road]. Stories of this nature were a kind of unofficial initiation exam. 

Information on a need-to-know basis

At graduate school, you are filled with information and encouraged to ask questions and find answers. There were many things I wanted to know. For example, on most three-manual Schlicker organs, the pedal contains a unit 16–8 principal rank, but the 16 and 8-foot stopped flutes are always separate ranks. How come? I learned that awhile before my arrival, some former employees had stolen plans, records, scalings, and materials—everything they needed to make copies of Schlicker organs. So Mr. Schlicker was now cautious in sharing information, and an apprentice is at the bottom of the totem pole in need-to-know. 

I got my lecture in Schlicker organ design in a most unexpected way. One holiday season, there was in the factory a 32′ Bombarde, which was to be placed in an organ previously finished with that stop prepared for. Schlicker had placed a small two-rank unit organ in a Buffalo bank for publicity purposes. Since I could play, I was assigned to play Christmas music on the little organ while the bank was open. One day after the bank closed, I returned to the factory, where I was greeted by Ken List. Ken said, “So how is Merry Christmas on the Gedeckt?” I responded, “Well, it’s OK, but that little organ really lacks a proper foundation. Too bad we could not have hooked up that 32′ Bombarde with it.”  

Schlicker overheard the conversation, and while I thought anyone would recognize that I was being outlandishly facetious, Schlicker thought I was serious that the third rank in an organ should be a 32′ Bombarde. “You are there representing the Schlicker Organ Company,” he said. “You know nothing. A lot has to happen in an organ before you include a 32′ Bombarde.” So I heard all about small to medium to large organs in a very informative lecture, though I could have done without the frequent “You know nothing” comments.  

A wiring error

An electro-pneumatic organ was being set up for testing. There was a testing wiring harness used for such purposes. I said, “I have never done this before; there are surely a lot of wires here.” I was told, “There is nothing to it, just start here at the end, and take each wire in sequence.” So I did, but it was the wrong end. Final result was that low C sounded from the highest note on the keyboard and vice versa. I started to play a hymn. “What on earth are you doing?” “I thought I might never again have the opportunity to hear music inverted and wanted to see what it sounds like.” “You idiot, why don’t you just broadcast to the world what a fool you are!” So I stopped abruptly. Fortunately this was the testing wiring harness and not the organ’s permanent wiring.

A bright and dim bulb

Sometimes my education was of use. When something unusual came along, such as “What the heck is an 8/9 None?,” I would know the answer. There was a fine older gentleman, whose name I unfortunately no longer remember, who was in charge of Schlicker consoles. He would review with me console layouts, controls, order of stops, etc. He said, “You know much more than those guys. You should be recognized for your knowledge and taken off the lumber run.” Obviously I liked him. On the other hand, as the wiring example shows, in construction matters I was a rookie. One day I was assigned to a task and heard rumblings, “I don’t know why they assigned HIM this task. HE doesn’t even know how to use a HAM-MER.” The speaker usually got this task. Since in this case it was an overtime task, I was robbing him of time-and-a-half pay. Welcome to the world of office politics. I did not like it, and was a rookie there as well. Fortunately for future employment I learned 1) never be cruel to someone and 2) never be the company scapegoat. 

Organ pipes

Most flue pipes were manufactured in the pipe shop. Reed pipes built to Schlicker specifications were imported from Europe. For flue pipes it was considered that for the vast majority of cases, such things as tuning scrolls, pipe slotting, and tuning collars were detrimental. Take tuning collars, for example. A tuning collar means that at the top of the pipe there is a sudden increase in scale. On bass pipes that were nearly cut to length, the effect is minimal. But on treble pipes, the distortion of pipe shape is considerable. Thus Schlicker organs had pipes cut to length and were cone tuned. This practice was one reason why Schlicker mixtures had outstanding cohesion with the principal chorus.  

The Schlicker sound

Open-toe voicing, low wind pressure, low cutups, etc. are only part of the story. It is well known that some Aeolian-Skinner contracts, such as the Mormon Tabernacle and Grace Cathedral, specified that G. Donald Harrison do the final voicing. It is the artist who does the finishing that gives an organ its distinctive sound; thus organs of the same manufacturer may sound different depending upon who does the finishing. At the Schlicker Company, we had two superb voicers who finished at least the more important instruments. Wally Guzowski voiced with a bold, fresh, exciting sound. I decided that someday I would like him to voice my residence organ when I could afford such. Louis Rothenberger Jr. had a more elegant, refined sound. [We always specified the Jr. because LR senior had also been a voicer.] 

They were aware that their styles were different, and Wally told me that they worked together to try and make a uniform result. There should be a specific sound quality associated with the brand. These men produced some instruments of distinction. As voicers, they would physically adjust pipes. As finishers in the final location, they would sit at the console, playing through a rank of pipes, pick a note and shout a command to someone like me in the pipes: “Lower the languid,” “Pull the upper lip forward,” “Narrow the windway,” “Increase the cutup,” and so forth.

Deterioration of the Schlicker sound 

As years have passed, I have noticed that some of my favorite instruments no longer have the magic they possessed when they were new. More is involved than just my ears getting older; recordings of the original instruments captured the magic. Here is what I think may have happened. Schlicker instruments were cone tuned and were very stable in tuning within themselves, but the whole instrument goes flat in winter and sharp in summer.

Take a fictitious organ service man Sam Cifodelance, for example. Sam gets a customer who has a Schlicker organ. He orders some tuning cones from a supply house. In winter, when the organ goes flat, he pounds the pipes with the pointed end of the tuning cones to bring the pitch up to A440. In summer, he pounds the pipes with the other end to bring the pipes down to A440. Over time this attention alters pipe mouth dimensions slightly, and what was an outstanding sound becomes an ordinary sound. 

This theory is an educated guess, but I do know that who does the servicing makes a huge difference, is a concern of organbuilders, and improper servicing deteriorates an organ’s sound. It saddens me that some of my favorite instruments have deteriorated. 

Schlicker’s bias

Bad for Aeolian-Skinner, but providential for Herman Schlicker was the rise in popularity of the Orgelbewegung. With his strong German accent and experience in German organbuilding, he was in an ideal place to be the foremost American builder in that style. I discussed with Schlicker a trip to Europe I was going to take. We went through the German instruments I was going to see. “Yah, you must see that,” he would say. For Holland, “There are some good things there.” For France, “A waste of time.”  

The good consultants

One of the first things you do as an apprentice is to rack pipes on a windchest. Here were some pipes that looked like a double row of little milk cans with their lids soldered on top. This experimental rank had been specified by Paul Manz. Louie Rothenberger Jr. was having a very difficult time getting the pipes to speak at all. I made the comment, “I don’t see why we need organ consultants at all. A church should just choose a builder and let their expertise do the job.” Louie responded, “You are new here. You will eventually have the opportunity to visit many organs. When you do, compare those that were built under consultants such as Paul Manz, your teacher Clarence Mader, Paul Bunjes, E. Power Biggs and so forth, with those that had no consultant. I think you will find that our best organs had consultants such as these.” He was right!

When I was at Occidental College, I played among other things French Romantic organ music that I liked. I commented to my teacher Clarence Mader how well the Schlicker played that music. He replied, “Yes, you need French reeds to play that music and I requested that Schlicker include them in the Swell One division.” I bring this up because on his own, Herman Schlicker would not have given the Swell One division a French flavor. Somehow they managed to do that and yet have it integrate beautifully with the rest of the instrument, resulting in far greater versatility. The very best instruments somehow achieved a result of being more than the sum of their parts, a joy to play and to hear. 

The not-so-good consultants

These are the ones who think they know more about organbuilding than the organbuilder, specifying scales, wind pressures, mouth widths, voicing techniques and so forth. One such organ had so many conditions that the final result did not have the distinctive Schlicker sound. Herman Schlicker summed it up thus: “It might as well have been built by ———.” [I don’t know if ——— would want to claim it either.]

In finishing an organ, Wally Guzowski explained to me, “You have to be very diplomatic with the organists. When they tell you what they want, smile and nod your head like you agree with them.  When they are gone, disregard everything they said. Organists know nothing about organ finishing.” A quite common occurrence in finishing an organ would be the arrival of the organist with some last requests for what was going to be his instrument. At that time, it is too late. A successful finishing process brings out the maximum beauty a pipe was designed to give. An organist’s request to now make a German Principal more like a French Montre, for example, robs the instrument of its potential. That decision should have been made long before.¹

Insubordination

I was given two rules, which probably came about due to prior difficulties with employees who were also organists: 1) When you are on an assignment do not play the organ, even during a break or after you are done. Customers are charged by the hour and we don’t want them to think they are paying for you to play the organ. 2) Because you may be called at any time to travel, do not accept a church organist position. It is not fair to the company, the church, or yourself. Rule 1 was difficult to manage; we worked on some beautiful instruments. But I did manage this rule in spite of working on some instruments I longed to play. 

 After arriving in Buffalo, each Sunday I visited various churches to see and hear organs and get a feeling of that particular church. One Sunday, I visited the University United Methodist Church. While certainly not the finest organ in town, the people were very friendly and when they discovered that I was from California and knew no one in town, they invited me to meals and made me feel at home and said, “You have friends here.” Shortly thereafter their organist moved away. “Do you play, Joe? Would you mind substituting for a while till we find a permanent organist?” A few Sundays later, “We want you to be our organist.” “Impossible—I can be called out of town at any time without notice.” “We can have someone fill in on the piano when that happens. Please be our organist.” It seemed like this would work; they knew I would leave without notice when Schlicker called. I would fulfill my obligation to him, and what he did not know would not hurt anyone. This happy arrangement continued for many months. 

I have a couple theories of how Ken List found out about this arrangement. “Joe, you have to tell Schlicker.” I dreaded that conversation, but I was caught, so I set up a time to meet with him. Schlicker told me he understood after all the time I had put into learning to play the organ that I would not want to just let the talent die. So he instructed me to resign and he would arrange for me to have practice time at his church, which had a very nice organ. As a naive young person, I thought as long as I can do my job, he has no business telling me what I can and can’t do on my own time. And there were many around me who encouraged that thinking. Perhaps more than the mundane tasks, this kind of thing is the reason Schlicker had trouble with master’s degree organists. In subsequent employment ‘my own time’ would be redefined by being on call 24/7 with aids such as beepers and later, cell phones. One boss would even follow me into a restroom stall. So now I see that Schlicker was at least trying to meet me half way. 

Money

Perhaps because organs are very expensive instruments, money is a problem in organbuilding. Herman Schlicker was a master of finance. We did not look forward to his daily rounds at the factory. “Robinson, why don’t you gold-plate it while you are at it?” That comment translates to the work is very good, but your progress is too slow and we can’t afford it. So I would speed up. Then, “Robinson, what is this? It will never do! The Schlicker organ is a quality instrument.” While making us employees stressed out during his rounds, he did achieve the right balance, getting us to do good work with enough production speed to be cost effective and keep the firm in business. After he died, that balance was lost and the firm eventually went bankrupt, as have far too many organbuilding firms.²

As an apprentice I made very little. One day I got an unexpected raise. Congress had just passed an increase in the minimum wage, and the salary I was making was below the new minimum. Schlicker added an extra five cents an hour because he did not want to be seen as paying minimum wage. As an apprentice, I rented a room. Most full-fledged organbuilders lived in apartments. I wanted to live in a house in the suburbs and I did not see that happening at any time in the future if I stayed on my current path. Many things I loved about organbuilding—your part in making a thing of beauty. But there were other important things to me that were either denied or out of reach. So my house in the suburbs was financed by leaving organbuilding and becoming a business systems analyst. And I am quite happy with my self-built 22-rank residence organ. Unfortunately, lack of space in my residence made it impossible for the third rank to be a 32′ Bombarde.

The author wishes to thank Justin Matters for permission to use the photographs of Schlicker organs.

Cathryn Wilkinson holds an Associate certificate from the American Guild of Organists and a Ph.D. from the University of Iowa School of Music. She has published articles on opera and hymnody of Slovakia, where she worked as a U.S. Peace Corps volunteer, and most recently on American and Slovak hymnody in Companion to the Lutheran Service Book (Concordia Publishing forthcoming). From 2004–2011, she was the organist at First United Church of Oak Park, in the 1917 building of First Congregational Church on land from the Scoville family of Oak Park.

A musical village on the edge of a metropolis

From 1920–1940, the organists at churches in Oak Park, Illinois distinguished themselves, certainly by talent, but also by hard work and a vision that went beyond playing hymns for their congregations. With the resources of Chicago just a few miles away, Oak Park might not be classified as a typical town. But recounting the contributions of a generation of Oak Park’s organists shows the extent of the opportunities that were open to professional musicians of this era. In small ways, their legacy lives on in today’s churches; in larger ways their musical accomplishments are an inspiration for our generation.  

In the mid-nineteenth century, visitors journeying across Illinois by horse and wagon often overnighted in Oak Ridge, about 15 miles from Chicago’s bustling commercial district. At this crossroads, on the site that grew into the village of Oak Park, the welcoming home of Joseph Kettelstrings had served as an impromptu tavern and hotel from the mid 1830s. Beginning in the 1840s Chicago emerged as a mecca for city dwellers, who could obtain the latest innovations from the east coast on the edge of the prairie via the city’s burgeoning freight networks. In a pattern that retraced itself all across the Midwest, the Kettlestrings family gradually divided and sold off property to new settlers. In the case of Oak Park, sales were restricted to those “people who were against saloons and for good schools and churches.”¹ By 1851, the Chicago and Rock Island Railroad line connected Chicago southwest to Joliet and soon extended on to the Mississippi River. Hospitality and convenience steadily attracted more residents with a can-do spirit to Oak Park, with the population reaching 4,600 in 1890.   

In the early years of the 20th century, Oak Park mirrored the progress that swept across the quickly industrializing North American landscape. By 1940 the village population had reached a high of 66,000, growing more than 100% in the years between the wars. The former settlement earned the nickname “The World’s Largest Village,” and it could have been, in political jurisdiction and in mindset. However, these villagers were not a common lot; among them are counted many innovative and enterprising scions: Frank Lloyd Wright, Ernest Hemingway, Doris Humphrey, and Ray Kroc. In the economic recovery after the Great Depression, a euphoria of success seemed to waft all across American society, spurring innovation and business growth. The aura of achievement was embodied in Chicago’s centennial celebration in 1933 with a hugely popular and privately financed world exposition, “A Century of Progress.”

Chicagoans formed and supported an extensive variety of professional and amateur musical organizations. Some were based on ethnic identities, such as the Chicago Welsh Male Choir, and others on business connections, such as the Illinois Bell Telephone company chorus. Organists were connected through the Chicago Choir Directors’ Guild, the local Organists’ Club, the Chicago Club of Women Organists, and the Illinois AGO chapter, founded as the Western Chapter in 1907.  

Although overshadowed by Chicago’s museums, cultural centers, performing arts, and industry, Oak Park developed a significant cultural identity in its own century of progress. The Scoville family donated land along the main thoroughfare and funds to construct a public library in 1888. William Corbett conducted a village orchestra in the 1880s, and at about that time, the Congregational Church hosted concerts by the Rubenstein Club. Dr. Methven, as president, and Mrs. Clarence Hemingway, conductor and mother of Ernest, produced concerts with the Oak Park Choral Society in 1897. Oak Park and its eastern neighbor Austin formed a local chapter to support the vision of Edward and Marian MacDowell’s newly conceived colony in Peterborough, New Hampshire. By 1935, 100 years after its settlement, Oak Park boasted a semi-professional Civic Symphony Association, the Warrington opera house, several movie theaters open even on Sundays, and a Civic Music Association organizing local concerts.   

Home to good churches

Central to Kettlestrings’s vision and the community-building ethic that shaped the village was the establishment of churches. The first makeshift church building was an unassuming 1855 frame structure known as “Temperance Hall,” shared by several dozen worshippers of varying denominations. Dora Kettlestrings, the daughter of Joseph, led a cappella singing for services in this hall. A memoir of early days recounts that Mr. Blackner ran a New England-style singing school in Oak Park and his wife played a parlor organ in Temperance Hall.² The first denominational building constructed in Oak Park was Emmanuel Lutheran Church in 1867, a German congregation. 

With the construction of the landmark stone edifices of First Congregational Church in 1873 and First United Methodist in 1874, several congregations anchored Oak Park’s central commercial district, just two blocks from the train line to Chicago. The saying went, “When you get where the saloons stop and the churches begin, you are in Oak Park.”³ Modeled on European cathedrals, these buildings accommodated several hundred worshippers and symbolized the key role that religion played in the village. By the 1930s, at least seven congregations in the village registered memberships above 1,500. Perhaps largely due to the immigrant population, which in the 1920s and 30s hovered around 50% non-natives mainly from northern Europe, a commitment to maintaining churches in the European style was unquestioned.  

Fine pipe organs were de rigueur in these churches. E. M. Skinner, Austin, and Casavant each installed large showcase instruments in Oak Park in the first decades of the 20th century. Many of these organs served well into the 1980s. The organists who played them, along with school and private music teachers, provided musical experiences for the whole village. Some of the organists were heard nightly at Oak Park’s movie theaters as well as Sundays at the church.  

Radio is king for the 

King of Instruments

Edwin Stanley Seder (1892–1935), First Congregational Church

Seder served as organist at First Congregational Church in Oak Park from 1921 to 1935. This congregation built on the site of the Scoville family’s apple orchard in 1873 and in the 1890s they hosted the MacDowell Society’s concerts. By Seder’s time, the first church had been replaced with a spacious English Gothic revival building.  

Seder held a music degree from the University of New Mexico, where he also taught before moving to the Chicago area. His musical accomplishments show him to have a broad command of organ and choral repertoire. At First Congregational, he maintained a choir skilled and balanced enough to present Bach cantatas and Messiah. He also accompanied the Chicago Bach Chorus in many Bach cantatas. With this group he performed the Christmas Oratorio at Orchestra Hall on Michigan Avenue. In one program of extreme dimensions, the Chicago Bach Chorus performed the Magnificat, five cantatas, and the Actus Tragicus, according to the Tribune’s Douglas, “both ardently and with respect.” Seder played Bach’s Prelude in E-Flat and the St. Anne Fugue at one Bach Chorus concert. For the Chicago
Singverein he accompanied Bruch’s Das Lied von der Glocke, op. 45. He frequently accompanied his wife, soprano Else Harthan Arendt, in recitals of Baroque music, both in Oak Park and throughout Chicago venues. Upon Seder’s untimely death in 1946, Arendt became the music director at the church.    

A regular feature of The American Organist in the 1920s and 1930s was a listing of service music submitted by members. There is no indication on what basis these lists were selected; many of the submissions are from the same organists on a regular basis. They worked in congregations with some of the country’s better-known music programs, such as Lynnwood Farnam at Holy Communion in New York and Ray Hastings at Temple Baptist Church in Los Angeles. From a review of several of the service music submissions, character music and opera excerpts from concert venues were quite commonly heard during worship services, and hymn-based voluntaries only on occasion.

In 1922, Seder reported having played Festival Toccata (Fletcher), Allegro in F (Guilmant), Largo from the Ninth Symphony (Dvorák), Grand Choeur Dialogué (Gigout), Sunset and Evening Bells (Federlein), and “March” from Tannhäuser (Wagner) at First Congregational Church. On Palm Sunday in 1923, he performed “The Palms” (Faure), “Jerusalem” (Parker), Prelude to Parsifal (Wagner), and “Palm Sunday” (Mailly). He performed these works on the church’s 4-manual Skinner organ (Opus 274) of 69 ranks, which was situated in the front of the nave high above the altar with the console hidden by a carved wooden screen.    

Seder played, not only behind this screen on Sundays, but also out of sight for many radio listeners. The advances in broadcasting and electronic technology in early 20th-century America strongly impacted the organ world. Chicago radio station WLS, funded by Sears, Roebuck (the World’s Largest Store), began broadcasting in 1924 and from day one employed theatre organist Ralph Waldo Emerson. Early rival WGN (the World’s Greatest Newspaper) was financed by the Chicago Tribune. The Tribune’s reviewer Elmer Douglas wrote a daily review of radio broadcasts, which were the new sensation. The public considered musical broadcasts on the airwaves just as much a performance as a live concert. Douglas was particularly enamored of the playing by organist Edwin Stanley Seder, who began playing for WGN radio broadcasts in 1924. Douglas wrote in great detail about each work—for example, singling out some of Seder’s improvisations and the beautiful Sanctus from Gounod’s St. Cecilia Mass, presumably transcribed by Seder for organ. On nearly any given day at 6:30 p.m., listeners throughout Chicago could tune in to WGN and hear a live organ recital by Seder.  

Seder performed upwards of 1,000 concert broadcasts, first on an Estey organ at the station, and later on a Lyon & Healy organ constructed specifically for the WGN live broadcast studio in Chicago in 1924. The radio organ was played in a studio designed by acousticians with walls covered in silk brocade to provide optimal tone quality. Reportedly in December 1925 Seder reached the mark of having broadcast his 1,000th piece without ever having repeated a work on the air.

His radio presence certainly brought recognition. He had gained the post of professor in the organ department at Northwestern University in Evanston in 1919 and also taught at Chicago’s Sherwood Music School. In 1934, he joined the music faculty at Wheaton College Conservatory, in the far western suburbs of Chicago, where he taught history, organ, and conducting.   

In addition to his teaching, broadcasting, and service playing, Seder earned the FAGO certificate and became president (dean) of the Chicago AGO chapter. During his tenure he led the chapter in planning for a series of weekly noonday recitals in Chicago venues. He concertized frequently in Oak Park and Chicago. He was once presented by the Chicago AGO chapter in recital at St. James Cathedral. He was invited to perform at St. Luke’s Episcopal Church in Evanston, home to a 4-manual Skinner, Opus 327, and at the dedication of the 121-rank Kimball organ at New First (Union Park) Congregational Church of Chicago in 1927. Two representative recitals at First Congregational in Oak Park reveal that much of his repertoire showed off the orchestral organ through recent character music and opera transcriptions:  

Concert Overture in B Minor (Rogers)

“Allegro” from Sonata I (Guilmant)

Danish Song (Sandby)

March of the Gnomes (Stoughton)

Serenade (Rachmaninov)

Rhapsody (Cole)

A second program opened with a repeat performance of Stoughton’s March of the Gnomes, followed by:

Overture to Der Freischütz (Weber)

Minuet (Zimmerman)

Bells of St. Anne (Russell)

Brook (Dethier)

Concert Overture (Hollins)

Seder’s concerts often featured complex works by Bach, such as Komm Gott, Schöpfer from the Leipzig chorales, which he played along with one of the few works he composed, The Chapel of San Miguel, on a program in Winnipeg in 1929.⁴  

Music for the masses

Edgar A. Nelson (1882–1959), First Presbyterian Church

Philip Maxwell of the Chicago Daily Tribune wrote often about Edgar Nelson’s many performances for very large audiences in Chicago. He mentions that one of Edgar Nelson’s favorite passages in the Bible was “Sing unto him a new song:  play skillfully with a shout of joy” (Psalm 33:3).⁵ Maxwell did not document Nelson’s shouts of joy, but Nelson’s skillful playing is well documented. His career was centered around First Presbyterian Church in Oak Park, in the “church corridor” of the city’s commercial district, but his impact went far beyond.  

Nelson was born into a musical family of Swedish heritage and followed in his father’s steps as a church musician. Beginning in 1909 and continuing for 47 years, he was music director at First Presbyterian Church, playing an organ by the Hall Company, with whom he may have consulted on the design. Hall had also installed an organ for the Bush Temple of Music, a well-known piano store in Chicago.  

While he was working at First Presbyterian in Oak Park, Nelson was also a student at the Bush Conservatory in Chicago, one of several prominent private music schools established in the early 20th century. Nelson later joined the faculty there. As church music director, he presented organ concerts and conducted musical revues, such as a musical arrangement of The Thurber Carnival. He also directed children’s and adult choirs and composed incidental music for the church’s Christmas pageants, which were remembered later by church members as being fabulous. The church music budget provided for a paid quartet of local professional singers, which Nelson conducted for Sunday services. Not until the early 1950s with new pastoral leadership was a volunteer choir and a handbell ensemble formed.  

Dr. Nelson played Sunday mornings in Oak Park for a congregation of 1,600 and then for 40 years headed into Chicago each afternoon to Orchestra Hall, where he conducted a choir of 125 voices at the Chicago Sunday Evening Club until 1956. The club was a source of pride for the greater metropolitan area and eventually drew a national audience through radio broadcasts. Every Sunday night local businessmen and travelers would fill the 2,000-seat concert hall for a nondenominational Christian service featuring prominent religious speakers such as Henry Sloane Coffin from Union Theological Seminary and W.E.B. DuBois from Atlanta University. Founded in 1908, the Chicago Sunday Evening Club still produces a weekly cable TV broadcast. “30 Good Minutes” is aired on WTTW, where production moved from Orchestra Hall in the 1960s.

The club’s leaders, who included Rev. Clifford W. Barnes, an internationally known church activist and Chicago philanthropist, offered an additional level of status to the CSEC, as did Daniel Burnham’s beautiful Orchestra Hall venue from 1904. Dr. Nelson played the Lyon & Healy organ there, Opus 164 also from 1904, which at 4 manuals and 56 ranks was reported to be the largest instrument the Chicago-based company ever built. The CSEC services included performances by the club’s own chorale, which pre-dated the Chicago Symphony Orchestra’s resident chorus by several decades.    

Dr. Nelson was respected and well known in Oak Park through his long tenure at First Presbyterian Church. Also, due to his post as conductor, and from 1938 until shortly before his death, general choral director for the annual Chicagoland Music Festival, his reputation extended much further. Beginning in 1930, the Chicago Tribune Charities sponsored this event annually for 35 years, reportedly attracting more than 10,000 singers at a time to Soldier Field. The outdoor stadium was usually home to the Chicago Bears football team, but for a few days each August, in Chicago’s sweltering summer heat, a musical crew headed by Nelson organized singing contests and performances for choral ensembles from as many as sixteen states. On one occasion, more than 80,000 people were expected in the audience, purchasing tickets at $1.50 each. Participating choirs were auditioned because the number of choirs that wished to perform was far greater than the organizers could accommodate. The festival presented not only classical choirs, but also represented Chicago’s varied ethnicities with African-American gospel choirs, accordion ensembles, and popular country vocalists as well.   

When he was only 28 years old, Nelson was honored by King Gustaf V of Sweden with the Order of Valhalla, during a tour of Scandinavia with the Swedish Choral Club of Chicago, which he directed.⁶ In 1930, he became president of Bush Conservatory of Chicago. Two years later, when the Bush Conservatory was subsumed under Chicago Musical College, Nelson continued on as president of the merged school. His legacy was such that the Chicago Conservatory of Music dedicated a concert hall in his honor after his death, naming it the Edgar A. Nelson Memorial Hall.  

In addition to his teaching and administrative roles, for 44 years Nelson conducted the 200-voice Marshall Field Chorus, associated with Chicago’s landmark department store on State Street. For more than ten years, Nelson was the accompanist for the prestigious Apollo Musical Club. This independent auditioned chorus of about 80 voices sold standing subscriptions to its concerts of oratorios, cantatas, passions, and other large choral works such as Bach’s B-Minor Mass in Orchestra Hall. A Chicago Tribune reviewer referred to Nelson’s accompanying there and for numerous vocal recitals as consistently ideal. The Apollo Musical Club’s director in the early 20th century was Harrison Wild, notably also a founding member of the American Guild of Organists in 1896 and the Chicago (originally the “Western”) chapter in 1907. When Wild retired from the Apollo Club in 1928, Nelson took on the role of conductor and held that post until 1951.  

In 1937, living in the technological age that followed the century of progress, Nelson was among the musical experts chosen by the Federal Trade Commission for a panel to review the issue of a new organ. The panel was to advise on the validity of claims by the Hammond Clock Company of Evanston, Illinois that its electronic instruments were organs. No doubt many organists saw the clock company’s invention as a threat. Nelson joined the majority opinion of the panel, which concluded that the so-called electronic organ did not meet the accepted definition of an organ. This verdict did not hold back the Hammond Clock Company, nor did it intrude on Nelson’s indefatigable musical activity or impeccable musicianship.

Casavant makes their mark 

in Oak Park

George H. Clark, Grace Episcopal Church

In the early years of the 20th century, Mrs. Linda Holdrege Kettlestrings, who married into Oak Park’s founding family, served as organist at Grace Episcopal Church. The building was a gracious English Gothic revival structure completed in 1905 on the “church corridor.” Mrs. Kettlestrings also accompanied silent movies at Oak Park’s Lamar Theater two blocks away.⁷ In 1922, just a few years after the firm of Casavant Brothers of St-Hyacinthe, Quebec celebrated their 40th anniversary, they installed Opus 940, a 65-rank, 4-manual organ for Grace Episcopal Church. Chicago was already home to a dozen organs by Casavant, but this was only their third in Oak Park, and by far the largest in this village, which The Diapason had declared to be a prominent organ center. The Chicago Tribune reported the cost of Grace’s new instrument at $50,000.⁸ In 1947, Marcel Dupré performed a solo recital to celebrate the 25th anniversary of the instrument. 

At the time of its installation, the church’s organist was George H. Clark. Born in England, Clark was raised in the English choirboy tradition of London’s smaller parishes. He studied with Joseph Bonnet—for how long and where is not known, but Clark often included works of Bonnet on his recital programs.  

Clark kept good company. He was chosen to be one of three organists performing for a festival AGO service on April 24, 1928 in celebration of the new Möller organ, Opus 5196, at nearby Austin Congregational Church. The other performers were William H. Barnes, the noted author, organ designer, and past dean of the Chicago AGO chapter, and Harold B. Simonds, organist of St. Chrysostom’s Church in Chicago.  

Clark had a 2-manual organ installed in his Oak Park home in 1926. Opus 1162 was the fourth Casavant organ in Oak Park and featured a 16′ Bourdon in the pedal division. Whether Clark was duly impressed with Casavant’s work or due to some other circumstance, he became Casavant’s Chicago sales representative in 1932. His first instrument was purchased by Saint Catherine of Siena Roman Catholic Church in Oak Park. This was Opus 1467, a 3-manual instrument of 24 ranks. Clark played the inaugural organ recital featuring repertoire that frequently appeared on concert listings of the period: an excerpt from
Tannhäuser, Borodin’s “At the Convent,” an unnamed work by Guilmant, and a transcription of the “Hallelujah” chorus. 

A dean and director from 

Chicagoland’s best  

Raymond Allyn Smith and Theodore Kratt, First Baptist Church

Just two blocks from the principal church corridor of Lake Street stand the First Baptist and First United Methodist churches. The Methodist congregation was Oak Park’s first, formally organized in 1872 as the First Methodist Episcopal Church. In 1925 the present building, designed by noted Oak Park architect E. E. Richards, was completed and the Skinner organ company installed a pipe organ in the same year. This was Oak Park’s third Skinner, Opus 528, with four manuals and 43 ranks—all three organs within three blocks of one another.  

The nearby First Baptist congregation housed the second Skinner in the village, a 4-manual organ of 38 ranks, Opus 358, dedicated on April 25, 1923. This organ replaced the small pump organ that had been donated to the Baptist church by the pastor in 1882. In 1922, the congregation, which had grown to a membership of nearly 1,600, called Raymond Allyn Smith as organist. Smith was a graduate of the University of Chicago and conductor of glee clubs at both Beloit College and the University of Chicago. A native of Ohio, he studied organ, piano, and composition, first at Oberlin College and then with organist Robert W. Stevens in Chicago.⁹ Smith most likely would have been close to the installation of Skinner’s gargantuan 110-rank organ in Rockefeller Chapel on the University of Chicago campus. He consulted with William H. Shuey, who had preceded Edwin Stanley Seder as organist at First Congregational Church and knew its 1917 Skinner organ well, on the specifications for First Baptist in Oak Park.  

According to the account of the organ’s installation in The American Organist, First Baptist Church completed its red brick building with English Gothic features, purchased the organ, and installed ten tower chimes, all without carrying forward any debt.¹⁰ The chimes were a memorial in honor of George H. Shorney, some of whose descendants are still active in this congregation today. Smith planned a series of recitals and choral events throughout the year to celebrate the acquisition of the new organ. He collaborated with Theodore W. Kratt, the church’s music director. Kratt had graduated from the Chicago Musical College in 1921, later joining the faculty at Maine Township High School, and serving First Baptist Church until 1928. He conducted a Sunday choir of sixty voices at First Baptist. He founded an Oak Park choral society of 100 augmented with approximately fifty singers from a junior choral society for special concerts, given in the sanctuary that seated nearly 1,000.¹¹ The choir’s repertoire included cantatas and oratorios, one example being Elijah by Mendelssohn.  

A celebratory program one month after the organ’s installation, most likely with Kratt conducting and Smith accompanying, included a mix of vocal, choral, and piano repertoire by contemporary composers (Amy Cheney Beach, Sergei Rachmaninov, Camille Saint-Säens), chorus excerpts by Gounod and Sullivan, an organ work by the ever-popular Pietro Yon, and the “Hallelujah Chorus,” which frequently appeared on concerts during this era. The final work was an organ transcription of the March from Verdi’s Aida.  

Smith not only performed in the Chicago area; he was invited elsewhere as a soloist. His program in 1923 for the ongoing recital series at the University of Illinois, home to a 4-manual, 59-rank Casavant, follows:

Toccata and Fugue in D Minor (Bach)

Sonata No. 4 in D Minor (Guilmant)

Echoes of Spring (Friml)

Notturno (Mendelssohn)

Am Meer (Schubert)

Au Convent (Borodin)

Toccata from Symphony No. 5 (Widor)¹²

Smith’s colleague and music director at First Baptist, Theodore Kratt, completed his Mus.D. at the Chicago Musical College in 1932. He moved on to other positions, first as orchestra conductor at Miami University of Ohio, incidentally a position organist Joseph W. Clokey had formerly held, and then as Dean of the School of Music at the University of Oregon. Later music directors at First Baptist of Oak Park were Herbert Nutt (1930–34) and Robert MacDonald (1935–39).  

Let the organist do it!

Miss Etta Code (d. 1953), St. Edmund’s Catholic Church 

This Catholic parish, one of two established in 1907 in Oak Park, was served for 49 years by its founding priest, Monsignor John Code, with the help of his sister Etta Margaret, who played the organ. Miss Code, after 46 years as organist, was remembered at her funeral for her love of God and her zeal for His church. She is quoted on her guiding philosophy as having said, “The purpose of church music is to pray in song, not to entertain. It is an office once entrusted to priests. To make it an occasion for mere artistic display is to insult the God who is on the altar.”¹³ 

As a child, Etta grew up with John and five other brothers in a musical family in Chicago’s St. Columbkille parish, one of many Irish enclaves that yielded generations of successful Americans. The matriarch of the family was Mary Code. With her children, she formed a family ensemble in the home, playing mandolins, harps, and guitars for the neighborhood.  

Miss Etta Code studied piano, harp, and organ at the Chicago Musical College. After graduating, she moved to Oak Park in 1907 to help her brother John nurse along the new Catholic parish in the village’s commercial district. The congregation first met in a barn on the old Scoville property in the center of town and then in 1910 moved into a stately English Gothic building about three blocks from Oak Park’s “church corridor.” Miss Code’s duties included managing the parish office, teaching at Chicago’s historic Ogden School, directing the catechism classes for the parish school, and helping the needy callers who appeared at the rectory. In a more unusual role, at an outdoor parish fundraiser on the lawn of one of Oak Park’s baron-era mansions, Miss Code was described as one of the “Oak Park beauties” who set up the “cigar booth” for entertainment on the lawn.  

The parish Mass schedule found Miss Code at least once a day in the organ loft, playing for the liturgy and singing the solo parts while accompanying herself on the church’s Casavant organ, and sometimes on harp. The size of the parish, which grew beyond 2,000 in the 1930s, dictated that there would be frequent named Masses and on many weekdays the organist had to accompany as many as three of them. When the church acquired a 16-rank Casavant pipe organ in 1913, Miss Code most likely consulted on this project. That year the church made a partial payment of $1,155 on the instrument. Casavant installed two instruments in Oak Park in 1913. The other, at 53 ranks, was built for the First Congregational Church but sadly lost when lightning struck the church’s steeple four years later. St. Edmund’s Casavant, now the oldest remaining in Oak Park, was refurbished in 1952, just one year before Etta Code’s death.

Miss Code organized a number of ambitious musical celebrations to commemorate events in the parish’s life. She was frequently noted as an accompanist and organ soloist outside of regular Masses. In honor of a parish member who donated extensive decorations for the building’s interior in 1920, she arranged a sacred concert, featuring William Rogerson and Vittorio Arimondi, soloists from the Grand Opera Company (later the Chicago Lyric Opera). Other performers came from the Theodore Thomas Orchestra in Chicago (later the Chicago Symphony Orchestra) and St. Edmund’s choir of 34 voices. Miss Code accompanied and played a “Finale” by Guilmant, presumably from an organ sonata. The male chorus of the Catholic Casino Club sang sacred excerpts in Latin by Gerasch and Kreutzer. The repertoire spanned from Mozart and Haydn to Gounod. A reviewer in the local Oak Leaves reported that the church was packed that evening, and “not the least convincing contribution was Miss Etta Code’s organ accompaniment of the intricate and exacting scores and her rich and voluminous interpretation of Guilmant’s organ recessional.”  

Miss Code seemed to show an affinity for opera, having directed at the Warrington Opera House in Oak Park, where there was a resident orchestra. The Warrington billed itself as “the only legitimate theater outside of the Chicago Loop” and it was large enough to seat 1,500 people. The following year, since the first sacred concert was so well received, Miss Code organized a repeat performance, again with Messrs. Rogerson and Arimondi of the Chicago Grand Opera Company, and noted Chicago organist Adalbert Hugelot. Hugelot played Gesu Bambino by Pietro Yon, many of whose works are frequently found on recital programs of this era. Several vocal solos from Handel (“Where’er You Walk”) to Verdi (Ave Maria) contrasted with Grieg and Tchaikovsky transcriptions played by a string quartet from the Chicago Symphony Orchestra.  

The sacred concerts did not continue on this scale in future years. The church’s annual expense for parish music was $415 in 1921, on a par with the amounts given for European sufferers and Irish relief. This was sufficient to sustain a choir, which met regularly every Friday night, even throughout Oak Park’s hot summers. During the school year, students at the parish school presented musical plays and concerts by the student band. Miss Code served both students at the school and friends throughout the parish and the village. Father Code referred to her as his “first assistant” at St. Edmund’s. At her death, 95 parishioners and local church and community groups requested memorial masses for her. 

Value added

The careers of Edwin Stanley Seder, Dr. Edgar Nelson, George Clark, Raymond Smith, Theodore Kratt, and Miss Etta Code spanned an era in which the organ’s standing was as solid as the pillars surrounding their churches. In spite of economic hardships and the staggering scale and speed of world events from 1920–1940, these musicians held on to a constant discipline of planning, practice, and performing that enriched their communities with live music. They may have worked in a village, but they worked at a level that rivaled larger urban centers like Chicago. Their legacy shows that the society that heralded the era of radio, streetcars, Gershwin, and Guthrie also valued the centuries-old tradition of organ-playing in its churches.

Gavin Black is director of the Princeton Early Keyboard Center

Hard pieces and 

recalcitrant passages

This month I am writing about the phenomenon of pieces being difficult and the related phenomenon of specific passages being hard to learn: either difficult by any standard or surprisingly difficult—for reasons that may seem elusive—for a particular student. This is not a very systematic or methodological discussion: just a few ideas—almost just random thoughts—that I think are interesting or that may help some students or teachers. 

We all believe that some pieces are harder to learn or to perform than other pieces. This—just as a basic fact—is probably as close to uncontroversial as anything gets in the field of music and music teaching in general, or of organ-playing and organ teaching in particular. We don’t necessarily all agree as to which pieces are more difficult and which less so. Most of us, from our own experiences as players and from what we have seen with our own students or other performers, know that different pieces or sorts of pieces are more or less difficult for different players, and at different times in one player’s career.

Repertoire in order of difficulty

When I first acquired copies of one or two volumes of the Peters edition of the Bach organ music—in about 1971, at the age of about fourteen—I noticed that the separately bound Preface included a listing of all of the (non-chorale based) pieces arranged according to difficulty. I was excited about this, since it seemed both useful and authoritative. I allowed it to influence what pieces I chose to work on—though not in a logical or consistent way. Sometimes I would choose a piece because I thought it was easy enough to be within my grasp, sometimes I would spurn and reject pieces that were described as being “easy,” because I thought that working on them would be sort of embarrassing, classifying me as “not very good.” Needless to say, this was all rather silly. 

I did continue for a long time—after my studying had become at least a bit more systematic and effective—to cast sneaky glances at the list out of the corner of my eye. I would pat myself on the back just a little a bit whenever I put in some work on a piece in the top half or so of the difficulty scale. I pretty much stopped doing this when Eugene Roan, with whom I had by then started taking lessons, mentioned casually to me one day that an eminent recitalist he know thought that piece x was much more difficult than piece y—the opposite order from the Peters list. This introduced me to the idea that this whole difficulty thing could be relative, though at that point in my career I couldn’t have said how or why this might be so. 

Reger and Straube

Another way that the concept of difficulty as a kind of independent variable in pieces of music came to my attention when I was first getting interested in organ was through hearing the story of Max Reger and Karl Straube. The idea was that Reger had made his organ pieces more and more difficult in the hope of writing something that Straube, his good friend who was also the leading German organ virtuoso of the time, would be unable to play. It was also said that he never succeeded: that Straube “won.” There are a couple of interesting things about this. One is that, of course, it is trivially easy to write a piece that is unplayable, if that is really all that you want to do. All that you need to do is to write notes that are too far apart in compass to reach.  The music does not have to be particularly complex or intricate or fast. However, a piece that is really unplayable will, in fact, not be played. That is never in any composer’s interest. Not surprisingly, composers—whether they are writing for Karl Straube or not—tend to approach daringly close to that “unplayable” line, and then to decide not to cross it. This is as true of a composer like Beethoven, who stated bluntly that he didn’t care what performers could or couldn’t do, as it is of composers like Bach or Franck, whose keyboard compositions arose out of their own work as performers and improvisers. 

It is also interesting that Straube—as a student, before he had met Reger in person—was in fact drawn to Reger’s music in part because it was first presented to him as being too difficult to play. Straube’s teacher Heinrich Reimann showed him Reger’s then very recently published Suite in E Minor, op. 16, telling him that it was unplayable. This seems to have motivated Straube to learn it, which may or may not have been Reimann’s intention all along. I myself, when I was still more-or-less a student, occasionally started to work on a piece because someone had said to me that I could not learn it. (This was never, in my case, one of my own teachers.) I always learned something valuable from the attempt, although it did not necessarily result in my mastering the piece in question at that time.

Aspects of difficulty 

When we talk about a piece’s being very difficult, we are almost always talking about the learning and reliable playing of the notes: the right notes, in the right order, at a suitable tempo. That is not to say that anyone denies that other aspects of playing a piece can be difficult. In fact, performing even a simple piece in such a way that it is extraordinarily compelling, beautiful, interesting, thought-provoking, disturbing, whatever we want it to be, is probably as hard and (at least) as rarely achieved as playing a difficult piece competently. However, that is indeed a different thing. When students ask whether the Goldberg Variations or the Dupré Prelude and Fugue in G Minor is too hard for them, they are rarely inquiring about whether the teacher thinks that they can project the deepest meaning of the piece effectively. Of course, there is always this relationship between what might for the sake of simplicity be called the two types of difficulty: that the better-learned the notes of a piece can become for a given player—the closer the piece can come to feeling easy once it has been learned—the more of a chance there is that a performance can also be musically effective.

The piece that I happen to have been practicing the most in the week or so before I sat down to write this column is the “In Nomine” by John Bull that is found in volume 1 of The Fitzwilliam Virginal Book. The makers of a list like the Peters Bach organ repertoire list would probably put this piece at the easy end of “moderate” or the somewhat high end of “easy.” It is in three voices throughout, but none of the voices is very busy or intricate. For much of the piece the middle voice lies in such a way that it could be taken by either hand, so there is a fair amount of fingering flexibility. It is (though this is obviously subjective) not a piece that many people would think should go very fast: certainly not fast enough to make playing it into an athletic challenge—which some of Bull’s pieces are. This is a piece that I used to play a lot and, as best I can remember, I did indeed initially choose it because it was not too athletic. Bull’s Walsingham or King’s Hunt would have seemed beyond me many years ago. However, it occurs to me that this piece is a good illustration of the relationship between note-learning difficulty and tempo. There is—literally—a set of tempos at which this short Bull piece would be harder to play than the Reger Opus 16: that is, a mind-bendingly fast tempo for the Bull and a glacial tempo for the Reger. In order to achieve my inverting of the difficulty of these two pieces, the tempos would have to be so extreme that they would both be well outside what anyone would ever do. However, within a more realistic range of performance tempos, the Bull can become a virtuoso challenge of its own, and the Reger can move from the “impossible” all the way down to the “very hard.”

Difficult passages

Many pieces that have a reputation for being very hard are as difficult as their reputations suggest only in spots. For example, the Bach F-major Toccata is considered one of his hardest organ pieces. It earned a very high place on “the list”—maybe at the very top, certainly close. However, long stretches of the piece are really not hard at all. The opening has nothing going on in the pedal, and the two manual lines are somewhat intricate, but not remotely beyond the bounds of the “intermediate” for anyone. Then there is a pedal solo, which is also quite learnable. The following two pages are essentially a recap of this opening: carefully designed by the always pedagogically aware composer to be a bit longer and a bit trickier than the opening itself, but similar in nature. Then, beginning at about the fifth page, the hands and feet start moving together, and things get more complex. Still, however, the notes fall into place quite naturally. Most players I know who have worked on this piece report that this section yields nicely to practicing and is not more difficult than other Bach prelude-type pieces. It is the three brief passages that involve the return of the opening motif of the piece, this time in manuals and pedal together, that seem really hair-raising to many of those who work on the piece. This is not everyone’s experience, but it is a common one. Other very difficult pieces can be analyzed this way as well: perhaps most of them. In the Goldberg Variations, for another example, probably about eighty percent of the writing is no more difficult than the average for The Well-tempered Clavier or Handel harpsichord suites. That is not, by any standards, “easy.” But it is the remaining fifth or so of the work that gives it its reputation as “only for advanced players.”

One source of difficulty in working on pieces of music is unfamiliarity with a particular style or the technical tendencies of a particular type of music. Ralph Kirkpatrick, in his preface to his edition of sixty Scarlatti sonatas, first outlines a set of rigorous ideas about how to work on the sonatas, both as to analysis and as to practicing. Then he says that if a student approaches six sonatas this thoroughly he or she will not have to do the same with the next sonata or later ones. The particular shapes of a given kind of music become ingrained. I myself, as a player who has worked more on Baroque music than on anything else, find it much easier both to sight-read and to learn Baroque pieces—even complex and difficult ones—than music from a later era. To me this suggests patience. If a student is working on his or her first piece from a particular genre or style or time period, then that piece is going to be harder than the next one will be. That should not be surprising.

Practice strategies

If a student is interested in working on a piece that seems too hard, I am extremely committed to letting him or her do so and to making it work. The first step for me is to try to figure out whether the difficulty is found in a few spots or more or less throughout. This affects learning strategy. In the first instance, I will suggest to the student that we break the piece up and completely abandon any thought that it is one unified piece—just for the time being of course, but with a lack of impatience as to how long that time will be. Then the easier—more “normal”—parts can be practiced and learned in a “normal” way, systematically and carefully, along the lines that I have written about before. The extremely hard passages can be treated as intensive exercises: analyzed, taken apart, put back together and practiced to within an inch of their lives. 

A piece that is quite difficult—perhaps too difficult for the student—and of much the same difficulty throughout simply needs to be taken apart and practiced well. The key here is to make sure that the student understands what the process will feel like. Anyone can practice anything effectively if it is kept slow enough. In this context, the meaning of a piece’s being “too hard” is simply that working on it correctly will take a long time. Would the student rather work on this piece for a very long time, or postpone it, work on other pieces in the meantime, and wait to work on the proposed piece later? This is simply a matter of what the student prefers: either approach is fine for helping him or her to become a more accomplished player. 

In fact, it can be perfectly useful and helpful for a student to work on a challenging piece even if he or she never really learns it—assuming that the failure to learn it is of the right sort. If the goal is to perform a piece then, by definition, that piece must be practiced until it is learned and secure and ready to go. However, if the goal is to use the process of working on a piece to become a better player in the long run, then it doesn’t matter whether the time put in practicing that piece is followed by more time with that same piece (eventually leading to its being learned) or by practicing a new piece. The choice to practice a hard piece up to a certain point and then let it go is perfectly acceptable, assuming that the student is happy with it, and understands that it is a process, not a failure. And of course, that same piece will be there for the student to come back to later. In fact, the first round of work on the piece will leave that piece in very good shape to be picked up again later: it will probably even get better during any time that the student takes off from it. It will be sinking into the subconscious mind. The only technical requirement for this approach to be fruitful is that the work done on the piece—or any section of it—be accurate and technically sound, but below tempo. If the piece is put aside in this way, it should be put aside at a slow tempo but otherwise exactly as it should be.

Gavin Black is director of the Princeton Early Keyboard Center. He can be reached by e-mail at [email protected]. A selection of Gavin Black’s organ performances can now be heard on YouTube by searching on his name at the YouTube website.

The sights and sounds of Italy offer more inspiration than any score or treatise—they provide clues about the spirit of the music, where words and musical notation fall miserably short

What if I told you that there is surviving Italian organ music as splendid as Giovanni Gabrieli’s In Ecclesiis and as ethereal as Gregorio Allegri’s Miserere? A few months ago, I would not have believed it either. In fact, I was under the impression that compared to Italy’s glorious tradition of ensemble music, its organ music was of lesser importance, and its historical organs were pretty but small. On paper, every instrument looked the same—a single manual, one octave of pull-down pedals, and a stoplist consisting of a principal chorus (the Ripieno), a flute or two, and perhaps a Voce Umana.¹ Three months of studying organ in Italy with Francesco Cera radically changed my mind. I went intending to obtain a more complete picture of early organ music, having already spent time in France, Holland, and Germany. I left in love with a magnificent collection of keyboard music.  

My change of heart began not with the music but with the art and architecture of Italy. The entire country is like a giant open-air museum. Visitors can enter and experience the very places where Gabrieli, Frescobaldi, and so many others made music. That they were inspired by their surroundings is impossible to contest. These places are by definition inspiring. They were designed by the world’s greatest architects and filled with art by the greatest sculptors and painters from anonymous Roman masters to Pinturicchio, Raffaello, Michelangelo, Bernini, Tintoretto, and many others. Elaborate organ cases are among the most striking architectural features of many Italian churches and palace chapels. I began to realize that such glorious spaces where the organ had so much visual importance simply must have resounded with impressive organ playing. 

The instruments themselves also provided indisputable proof. They were far from boring. Though their stoplists were similar, their tonal character varied widely from region to region in a way that perfectly complemented the art and architecture of the area. What of the music that survived for these instruments? At first glance, it seemed simple to me, appeared not to require pedals, and certainly seemed an inappropriate choice for performance on modern instruments. Fortunately, all of this was only an illusion created by a style of musical notation that left many crucial interpretive decisions to the discretion of the performer, who would have been familiar with the contemporary musical style and performance practices. I learned why an understanding and appreciation of historical art, architecture, and instruments and a knowledge of the surviving repertoire and treatises are so crucial for today’s performer.  

Early Italian keyboard music is most successful when its interpretation is informed by historical sources and inspired by the conviction that it is the aural representation of Italy’s breathtaking visual splendor. Italy’s art, architecture, and music can be organized into regional schools based in four of Italy’s most historically important cities: Venice and Florence in the north, Rome in central Italy, and Naples in the south. Allow me to share some of the highlights of my journey to discover their art, historical organs, and keyboard music. 

Venetian Splendor 

Today, the city of Venice continues to exist mainly because of the tourists. Many of the locals have moved to the mainland. Nevertheless, the city’s colorful vibrancy and the remnants of its former grandeur are very evident. The reds, oranges, and yellows of the houses and shops, the green of the canals, the aquamarine of the lagoon, and the glistening white of the church façades are a feast for the eyes. Appropriately, Venice’s painters—Titian, Tintoretto and others—are famed for their use of color and the way that light seems to shine from within their paintings. Of the city’s 114 churches, the Basilica Cattedrale di San Marco is the most famous (Figure 1). One of the finest examples of Byzantine architecture, its exterior is covered with inlaid marble and carvings, while its interior glows with gilded mosaics. Besides its breathtaking opulence, the sheer size of the cathedral is impressive. Remarkably, at the time of Claudio Merulo (1533–1604), Andrea Gabrieli (1533–1585), and the rest of the illustrious line of musicians who worked here, San Marco was not a cathedral, but the private chapel of the Doge of Venice, and Venice was one of the richest and most important cities in the world! My impression of Venetian organ music changed completely when I examined it through the lens of Venice’s vibrant color palette and astounding splendor.

Organs of Northern Italy

The organs of northern Italy are characterized by their cantabile tone. Some also have much more colorful stoplists than organs in other parts of Italy. In 2006, Giorgio Carli completed the restoration of the 1565 Graziadio Antegnati organ of the Basilica di Santa Barbara, the private chapel of the duke of Mantua.  The organ’s case is beautiful. Its richly painted doors contrast with the white walls of the chapel. This instrument was built under the direction of organist and composer Girolamo Cavazzoni (1520–1577). Its 16′ plenum is glowing rather than brilliant, perfect for Cavazzoni’s music, which is closely related to choral polyphony. As was the norm in Italy until the 18th century, the organ is tuned in mean-tone temperament, but the keyboard has split keys (Figure 2), allowing the player to choose between D# and Eb and between G# and Ab, thus enabling one to play in many more tonalities and to better imitate the pure intonation that a vocal ensemble is able to achieve. The keyboard and pedalboard both have particularly long compasses, the keyboard from C to F5 and the pedalboard from C to A2. The music of Marc’Antonio Cavazzoni (1485–1550), Girolamo’s father, demands such a compass. This long key compass also permits the organist to play in different octaves, using the 16′ Principale at 8′ pitch, for example. The winding of this organ is a special treat. Rather than supplying an electric blower, Giorgio Carli installed an automatic bellow lifter to pump the bellows. This allows the player to experience the wonderful flexibility of playing on pumped wind without the trouble of hiring a person to pump the bellows.  

Near Mantua, in the Chiesa di San Tommaso Cantuariense in Verona, stands a well-preserved 18th-century organ built by Giuseppe Bonatti in 1716. It is a two-manual instrument with an unusually colorful stoplist and a lavish complement of special effects. The main manual controls the Grand Organo—the usual Ripieno plus a Cornetto (in two parts: 4′-22⁄3′ and 2′-13⁄5′), Trombe reali, and two flutes. An exquisitely crafted Regale with rare original parchment resonators mounted on a separate windchest like a Brustwerk is also playable from the main manual. The second manual controls the Organo Piccolo, a tiny 4′ echo division situated behind the player. Other special effects include a chorus of bird stops (Figure 3) and a Tamburo (a stop played by the lowest pedal note that imitates a drum using a cluster of bass pipes). The pedals are permanently coupled to the main manual, but this organ also includes an independent pedal reed and Contrabassi—octave of 16′ wooden pipes. The tone of the organ is sweet and elegant, thanks in part to its comparatively low wind pressure, a common feature of Italian organs. The wind pressure of this Bonatti organ is set at 53–55 mm. By contrast, the wind pressure of the comparably sized 1704 Schnitger organ in Eenum, the Netherlands, is set at 62.5 mm. The tonal variety and elegance of the Bonatti organ make it perfect for 18th-century music, including the music of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, who, incidentally, played this instrument while on tour in Italy.   

Music of the Venetian and Emilian Schools

The keyboard music of northern Italy reached its peak during the Renaissance. Its focal point was the Basilica di San Marco in Venice. The splendid polychoral tradition of the basilica profoundly influenced the organ music of the Venetian school. Composers of the Venetian school were responsible for some of the most important developments in keyboard composition of both the Renaissance and the Baroque. Marc’Antonio Cavazzoni’s collection, Recerchari, mottetti, canzoni–Libro primo, printed in Venice in 1523, is one of the most important examples of early 16th-century organ music. Cavazzoni was born in Bologna, where he probably received his musical training at the Basilica di San Petronio, and likely knew the famous 1475 Lorenzo da Prato organ there. Later he moved to Venice and was an assistant to Adriano Willaert at San Marco. Cavazzoni’s recerchari are particularly significant, because they are among the earliest free compositions for the organ. These recerchari are majestic pieces written in an improvisatory style. Like later toccatas, they investigate idiomatic keyboard figuration rather than counterpoint. While his father, Marc’Antonio, was a pioneer in developing idiomatic keyboard figuration, Girolamo Cavazzoni, organist at Santa Barbara in Mantua, was a master of imitating vocal polyphony at the keyboard. An understanding of the text of the chants, motets, and chansons on which many of his works are based is absolutely crucial for a successful interpretation.  

Claudio Merulo and Andrea Gabrieli worked together as organists at San Marco. Merulo was renowned and influential during his lifetime. Girolamo Diruta dedicated Il Transilvano, one of the most important treatises on Italian organ music, to him. Merulo’s toccatas were the first to alternate virtuosic and imitative sections, a technique that Frescobaldi and the North German organ school would use later. Also, foreshadowing the Baroque, they often use ornamental figures as motives. Merulo’s music is full of unique written-out trills and diminutions. Studying it is an excellent way to learn how to add ornaments to repertoire of the 16th and early 17th centuries. In comparison, Gabrieli’s music may seem rather subdued, but, in fact, it only lacks the profusion of notated trills. Presumably, Gabrieli would have added these in performance. His Ricercari ariosi are particularly beautiful adaptations of the polychoral style.  

Eighteenth-century Bolognese composer Giovanni Battista Martini (1706–1784) was highly esteemed during his lifetime, and attracted students from around the world. Leopold Mozart even asked his advice concerning the talents of his son. Nevertheless, his surviving compositions do not seem to justify his reputation. They are pleasant but simple pieces in galant style. Consider them in context, however, and the picture changes. The majority of these pieces survive in manuscripts written in Martini’s own hand. They are predominantly written in two-voice structure, but occasional figured bass symbols suggest that they were really sketches, and that the organist was expected to fill out the texture by adding chords. Some of Martini’s Sonate per l’Elevazione survive in both simple and elaborately ornamented forms, exemplifying how he might have actually performed them.² Playing Martini’s music as written is a little like stripping a Baroque church down to bare plaster walls. Far from being easy and uninspiring, these pieces are charming examples of Italian Rococo organ style and exciting vehicles for creativity.

Rome’s Legacy

Rome is sometimes called “the Eternal City.” It displays its long rich history in an abundance of art and architecture (Figure 4). Romans are proud of their heritage. In the past, Rome’s great noble families collected antiquities, displaying them in their palaces. The Farnese collection, now on exhibit in the Naples National Archeological Museum, is particularly impressive evidence that admiration of antiquity dates back at least to the beginning of the 16th century. Many of its more than 300 marble sculptures were unearthed in archeological excavations specifically conducted on behalf of Pope Paul III and other members of the Farnese family. These same noble families and the Roman Catholic Church employed contemporary artists as well, who left masterpieces from every historical era. The poignant perfection of High Renaissance works like Michelangelo’s Pietà in St. Peter’s Basilica, the dramatic lighting and gestures of Baroque treasures like Caravaggio’s Crucifixion of Peter in the Chiesa di Santa Maria del Popolo or Bernini’s Ecstasy of St. Theresa in the Chiesa di Santa Maria della Vittoria, and the busy ornamentation of Rococo creations like the organ case of the Werle organ in the Basilica di Sant’Eustachio are all on display. In the churches, clouds of angels surround visitors, while the palaces seek to amaze them with marvels of architecture like Bernini’s and Borromini’s staircases, which compete for attention in the Barberini palace. For me, Rome’s deep appreciation of its long tradition of artistic excellence is the key to understanding the music written there.   

Organs of Central Italy

Only a few of Rome’s Renaissance and Baroque organs survive. As in many large wealthy European cities, pipe organs were replaced as fashions changed. Nevertheless, the smaller towns and villages in central Italy are home to a wealth of unique historical organs. It is far beyond the scope of this article to describe them all—the city of Rieti, where I spent much of my Italian sojourn, alone is home to 14 historical organs in varying states of playability. Let me begin by describing one of the oldest organs in Italy. It was built in 1509 by Paolo di Pietro Paolo da Montefalco, and is located in the Chiesa di San Francesco in Trevi, Umbria (Figure 5). This instrument is priceless for many reasons including its antiquity, its proximity to the birthplace of Girolamo Diruta, the way that it documents the history of organbuilding, and certainly also its beauty. Organbuilder Andrea Pinchi told me how thrilled he was to be given the opportunity to restore this instrument in 2005, having been convinced since he was a teenager that the case in the Chiesa di San Francesco held something very special. When it was first built, the organ consisted of a five-rank Ripieno and a Flauto in ottava.³ In the 17th century, a Flauto in duodecima was added, and in the 18th century the important Umbrian organbuilder Fedeli restored the instrument and added a Voce Umana and Cornetta. Because they reflect the historical development of the organ, these stops were all preserved in the restoration. The sound of this organ is bright and brilliant. The small Ripieno easily fills the sizable Gothic church. Like the Antegnati organ in Mantua, this was an instrument designed to imitate vocal music. Its extremely sensitive key action allows the player to create subtle text-like inflections by varying attacks and releases.

The organs that Frescobaldi played at St. Peter’s have long disappeared, but a splendid 17th-century Roman organ does survive to transport Frescobaldi’s sound world to the present day. The 1612 Giovanni Guglielmi organ in the Chiesa di Santa Maria in Vallicella (Figure 6) was restored by Ruffatti in the year 2000, but it continues to lack the international attention that it deserves. It is a large instrument based on 16′ pitch. The grandeur of the Ripieno is enhanced by many doubled ranks and by a trumpet. I was surprised to learn that a trumpet stop was a common feature of large Roman organs. The 1597 Luca Blasi organ of the Basilica di San Giovanni in Laterano, for example, also includes a trumpet. Perhaps the most eye-opening aspect of the Guglielmi organ is its narrow pipe scaling. The organ’s sound is bright, almost nasal, but crystal clear. It is simply impossible to cover up passagework even with the densest chordal accompaniment. The spectacular case of this instrument is also noteworthy. It is, as it were, created using ornamentation, including two giant sculptures of angels, and the entire case is sumptuously overlaid with gold.⁴ The matching case in the other transept of the church now contains an 1895 Morettini organ, which also merits a visit.

Music of the Roman School

Girolamo Frescobaldi (1583–1643) grew up in Ferrara, home of the great d’Este family. While Frescobaldi was young, many notable composers—including Claudio Monteverdi, Orlando di Lasso, Claudio Merulo, and Carlo Gesualdo—visited court. As a child prodigy studying with court organist Luzzasco Luzzaschi, Frescobaldi absorbed these diverse influences. In his early twenties, he decided to seek his fortune in Rome, and proceeded to write and publish some of the most important music of the 17th century and to pass on his skill to talented students from all over Europe.  

Frescobaldi’s music is like the city of Rome. It glories in tradition while being unafraid of innovation. Walking in the footsteps of Lasso and Palestrina, Frescobaldi composes masterful counterpoint, but juxtaposes it with flamboyant baroque figuration, skillfully incorporating affect figures. In his performance instructions that preface Il primo libro di capricci of 1624,⁵ he explains that in his music the metrical relationships that were so important in Renaissance music are now governed by the mood of the music. His sacred music, including the three Masses of Fiori musicali and the two extended elevation toccatas from his Secondo libro di toccate, is deeply spiritual. Frescobaldi masterfully communicates the meaning of the Mass liturgy into his settings. His elevation toccatas take the listener on a journey through contemplation, sympathy, and ecstasy. Though at first glance Fiori musicali seems like just another book of short pieces, when these pieces are considered together they form imposing Mass settings, and it becomes clear that this collection shares the monumentality of other early Roman Baroque sacred art like the baldacchino that Bernini designed for St. Peter’s Basilica (Figure 7).

Similarly, Bernardo Pasquini’s (1637–1710) music demonstrates both his admiration for the past as well as contemporary tastes. His output is extensive and varied, ranging from works like the Fantasia la mi fa fa and the Capriccio in G, which recall Frescobaldi’s contrapuntal works, to figured bass sonatas and versets, to variations, toccatas, and suites in a style similar to that of his friend and colleague Arcangelo Corelli, and foreshadowing the keyboard writing of his most famous pupil, Domenico Scarlatti.  

Michelangelo Rossi’s (1601–1656) music shows the other face of the Roman Baroque—the face that seeks to shock and amaze, especially by breaking the rules. During his lifetime, Rossi was best known as a virtuoso violinist. He also composed at least two operas and spent most of his life working as a court rather than a church musician. His ten keyboard toccatas are formally similar to Frescobaldi’s toccatas, but are full of startling effects and chromaticism that borders on the grotesque. In them, extreme virtuosity makes up for contrapuntal simplicity.  

Neapolitan Daring

Drama and audacity are a key part of Neapolitan art. For twenty-five centuries, Naples has brazenly lain in the shadow of Mount Vesuvius. It is a city of daring and a city of extremes. Emerging from the strange semi-darkness of the old city’s narrow streets, for example, one finds oneself confronted by the glittering brilliance of the bay. Neapolitan art and architecture express this too. Naples is famous for its seemingly quaint hand-crafted nativity scenes. Take a closer look, and you will find them full of drama enacted by humorous and grotesque characters. Behind a most forbidding fortress-like block façade, soars the opulent Baroque interior of the Chiesa del Gesù Nuovo, with its profusion of colorful frescoes, inlaid marbles, and priceless treasures. Similarly, the famous sculptures of the Cappella Sansevero, including Giuseppe Sanmartino’s The Veiled Christ, combine absolute technical perfection with gestures and facial expressions so full of pathos that they do not just invite an emotional response from their viewer, they force one. 

Organs of Southern Italy

My most memorable experience with southern Italian organs occurred during a trip to the town of Teggiano in the region of Campania. The south of Italy is full of secluded towns and villages and many undiscovered artistic treasures. Teggiano is home to several historical instruments, but the two most interesting were built around the turn of the 17th century—one in 1595 (Figure 8) and one in 1619 (Figure 9), only four years after the publication of Giovanni Maria Trabaci’s Secondo Libro de Ricercate et altri varij Capricci. Neapolitan-style instruments from this time period are extremely rare. Neither instrument is playable at this time.⁶ The restoration of the 1595 instrument is nearly complete, but has been suspended because of a lack of funding. The 1619 instrument, though magnificent, is still a ruin. Nevertheless, they still reveal much about Neapolitan organ music from the late Renaissance time. The pipe scaling used in these instruments is extremely narrow and would produce a sound as brilliant and arresting as the glaring Neapolitan sun. In addition, both instruments have very narrow cases that would act only as soundboards, and would not mix or soften the sound at all (Figure 10). 

The Neapolitan area was also home to talented 18th-century organbuilders, including Silverio Carelli. In 1784, Carelli built a beautiful instrument as a gift for the cathedral of his hometown of Vallo della Lucania. Its tone is sweet and full; several ranks including the Principale 8′ are doubled. Its keyboard and pedalboard are both fully chromatic, also in the lowest octave. The case is magnificent (Figure 11). Carelli spared no expense in building this instrument. He even included bagpipes, which could be used to play pastorali at Christmas time—so fitting in an area famous for its hand-crafted pastoral scenes.         

Music of the Neapolitan School

Like the Venetian school of keyboard music, the Neapolitan school flourished during the late Renaissance. Its leader was the Franco-Flemish composer Giovanni de Macque (1550–1614). He worked for the Gesualdo household and later as maestro di cappella for the Spanish viceroy. Giovanni Maria Trabaci (1575–1647) and Ascanio Mayone (1565–1627) served under De Macque as organists of the royal chapel. Their music is radical. De Macque’s in particular is full of daring harmonies and forbidden intervals. How it must have appalled proponents of strict Renaissance counterpoint! But then, it was written in Naples, not in Rome. As was the Neapolitan tradition, the music of De Macque, Trabaci, and Mayone is suitable for performance on keyboard instruments as well as on harp. It stands to reason that the composers assumed that the performer would make adjustments idiomatic to the instruments on which they chose to perform, adding a pedal part on the organ, arpeggiating chords on the harpsichord, and so on. Unlike Frescobaldi, none of the Neapolitan composers wrote prefaces including detailed performance practice instructions, but Trabaci does include an important word of warning in the preface to his Libro primo (1603).⁷ He writes that his music is carefully composed, but that study is necessary to discern the spirit of the music. Should the performer neglect to do this study, it will be their own fault if they did not succeed in realizing his intentions. Of course, it is impossible to know today exactly what Trabaci meant by this statement, but one thing is sure: in order to perform this Neapolitan music convincingly, it is crucial to study, determine the affect that the composer sought to convey, and then to do everything possible to communicate it as intensely as possible.

Conclusions

In conclusion, allow me to offer a few practical suggestions regarding interpreting the notation of early Italian organ music. Musical notation developed over the centuries to include more and more performance information. At first, however, it was simply a memory aid in a musical tradition that was transmitted orally. Early Italian notation of keyboard music gives no information about dynamics or registration, and little information about tempo or the use of pedal. Some composers, like Merulo, for example, notate trills and other ornaments, while others notate only the minimum of ornaments, and still others like Martini provide only a skeleton of their composition. Both the typesetting of modern editions as well as the moveable type in use in the 16th and early 17th centuries make this music appear rigid. Further, the time signatures and note values common at this time tend to be much larger than we are accustomed to today. Quarter notes in the music, for example, are often the same speed as what we would notate as eighth or even sixteenth notes today. As a result, this music can appear simple and boring at first glance. Performed with a good dose of imagination—and, as Trabaci reminds us, sufficient study—however, this music is completely captivating, and its exuberance is sure to attract music connoisseurs and first-time concertgoers alike.  

Diruta’s Il Transilvano (1593), Antegnati’s L’arte organica (1608), and Adriano Banchieri’s L’organo suonarino (1605), along with a good ear, are the best guides for choosing registration. In Renaissance music, a slow tactus permeates the music, and the relationships among meters help to establish a tempo. In Baroque music, the tempo is more flexible and governed by the affect of the music, as Frescobaldi discusses in the prefaces to his Libro primo di capricci and his two Libri di toccate. Historical Italian organs are the best source of information regarding pedaling. With the exception of some 18th-century organs, Italian organs have pull-down pedals with no independent stops, but they are very effective for reinforcing a cadence, harmonic sequences, or a cantus firmus. As Frescobaldi demonstrates in his two toccate sopra i pedali, the pedals can also be used to sustain pedal points. Most composers did not notate these pedal points, though their toccatas often feature extended passages decorating a single harmony. Adding a pedal point in these passages makes the organ sound much fuller and more impressive. Studying written-out ornaments and examples of diminutions in treatises like Silvestro Ganassi’s Opera intitulata Fontegara (1535) will help a performer to develop a repertory of ornaments. Playing from facsimiles of music that were published using beautiful copper engraving, like the toccatas of Frescobaldi and Rossi, allows one to avoid the uninspiring straightness of modern notation. As Frescobaldi counsels in the preface to his Fiori musicali, contrapuntal music should be studied in its original open score format. This is guaranteed to deliver much more coherent counterpoint.⁸   

Now is the perfect time to restore early Italian organ music from its relative neglect. Much music that was unavailable outside Italy has recently been released in excellent modern or facsimile editions, formerly unplayable instruments are being restored, research has uncovered helpful performance practice information, and new recordings of ancient instruments are allowing people around the world to experience their beauty for the first time.⁹ But, in my opinion, the sights and sounds of Italy offer more inspiration than any score or treatise. They provide clues about the spirit of the music, where words and musical notation fall miserably short.

The author thanks Francesco Cera for his assistance in preparing this article.  

A. David Moore, Inc., 

North Pomfret, Vermont

All Hallows’ Parish, Davidsonville, Maryland

From the builder

Designing an organ for All Hallows’ Church involved some unique challenges for its builder. The small brick building dates to 1734, and was gutted by fire in 1940. Rebuilt much as it was (without the Victorian alterations), the original walls and brick floor were retained. It seems that until 2010, the parish never owned a pipe organ.

The decision to place the organ on the left side of the chancel included the requests that the casework be no taller than the altar window, that the instrument be no larger than the sacristy in the opposite corner, and that the case was to “fit” the furnishings of the room. Thus, the back and left sides of the organ are against the walls, and maintenance can be done only through the front and right side of the main case. The detached console and Positiv division are one unit, adjacent to the case front, and facing the choir on the other side of the nave. Three flats of Open Diapason and Principal basses face the congregation, and the side contains two flats of Open Diapason basses, one of which is in a door that can be opened for Great and Pedal tuning. Those offset basses are operated by a remote assisting mechanism in which a small amount of air travels down a 5/16″ diameter tube that feeds a small wedge bellows and valve below each pipe.

The Great is on a C and C# chest, with the smallest pipes in the middle. The Positiv is played from the upper keyboard; the chromatic chest is at floor level; and the pipes are tuned by removing a grille on the top of the case. The manual keys are suspended, with a backfall system that pulls up the Positiv pallets; angled trackers and a rollerboard operate the Great pallets. The Positiv stop knobs are in the console and the Great knobs project from the main case on the organist’s left. The basswood tables of the chests will not split; the sliders are of quarter-sawn maple; the slider seals are of Neoprene; there is no plywood in the organ; the wind pressure is almost two inches; and the temperament is Kirnberger III.

Though the acoustics are quite good and the sound of the organ is focused by a curved ceiling, there is a slight “flutter echo” heard by a listener in the center of the room. The maple case is of wood harvested on the Moore farm in North Pomfret, Vermont, and sawn on location by a Wood-mizer band sawmill. There are no carvings on the case, but some subtle ornamentation appears at the tops of the pipe flats. The cornice of the case was copied from the 18th-century American case in Old North Church, Boston, and the All Hallows’ sacristy cornice was changed to match it.  

In the Great, the metal pipes are 28% tin and 72% lead, with small amounts of copper, antimony, and bismuth; the metal was cast from old organ pipes. The 8′, 4′, 22⁄3′, 2′, and 13⁄5′ ranks are close to Hook pipe scales, and have fairly low cutups and moderate nicking. The Holpipe is a metal chimney flute, and has 12 stopped wood basses; a new Haskell bass serves the Viol; and the Hautboy is an exact copy of a Hook stop. The Positiv Stop’d Diapason is of wood, small in scale but with a good fundamental tone, and is copied from a Geo. S. Hutchings stop; the Flute is of stopped and open wood and has metal trebles; the Fifteenth has 24 Claribel-style open wood basses and metal trebles. The German scales for the Dulcian are a composite, and there are half-length resonators in the lowest octave. The basses have wood blocks and shallots made in one piece, and the dimensions for the shallot openings, bores, tapers, and inside resonator diameters are close to 18th-century North European practice. The use of wood for a shallot avoids the need for lead or leather facings. In terms of hardness, the wood is somewhere between lead or brass and a leathered surface, and the brass tongues are fairly wide and thick. Long tuning wires are labeled on the tops and are easily reached.

The installation of A. D. Moore’s Opus 34 was enjoyable, and there were many trips to Davidsonville for installation, final voicing, and tuning. The crew of builders—A. David Moore, Tom Bowen, John Atwood, and Lubbert Gnodde—stayed with Jan and Mike Power. Mike Menne is the organist at All Hallows’, and collaborated on the organ’s specification. Mr. Gnodde played the dedicatory recital on November 7, 2010, which included works by Alain, Bach, Sweelinck, Scheidemann, Buxtehude, Mendelssohn, Couperin, Langlais, and the “Flower Duet” from Lakmé by Léo Delibes, featuring Sharon Potts and Laurie Hays, sopranos.

—E. A. Boadway and A. David Moore

From the organist

All Hallows’ Parish, also known as South River Parish, is one of the original parishes established by Act of the General Assembly of the Province of Maryland in 1692. As a worshiping community, it existed as early as 1650, with its first written record that of the birth of Thomas Chaney on 1 March 1669. The original church building, now lost, was probably of timber construction, and either burned or deteriorated to the extent that a new building, at a new site, was constructed, with the aid of a levy of 20,000 pounds of tobacco, around 1727–1730. The church bell, in a separate wooden tower, bears the inscription “Belonging to St. All Hallows’ Church 1727” and was probably provided by Queen Anne’s Bounty. 

The 1727 building, still in use, is a modest brick, hipped-roof building, just under 30 by 60 feet. There are no records extant that show the original seating plan of the building, but in the 19th century a small balcony was taken down (probably originally for the use of some of the 200 slaves who had been baptized by the second rector), and at least twice remodeled in the Victorian taste of the times, with heavy dark wood furnishings, stained glass, and slip pews.

The church was nearly lost on 11 February 1940 when a disastrous fire broke out about an hour after a service, destroying everything but the brick walls. For the rebuilding, it was decided to return the building to the look and feel of the early 18th century with white walls, white box pews, and clear glass windows. 

There is no record of any pipe organ during the building’s first 280 years, so any description of musical accompaniment before the fire is purely conjectural. After the restoration, a series of electronic instruments was installed in the front of the room. When a new rector arrived in 2000, he hired his friend James Weaver, Curator of the Division of Musical Instruments at the Smithsonian and co-founder of the Smithsonian Chamber Players, to come to the parish and revive a flagging music program and small choir of willing and enthusiastic singers. During his tenure, Weaver established a high level of musical expectation but hesitated to begin a project to replace the dreary electronic. When he left to pursue other projects and I arrived, enthusiasm to begin an organ project was high and the process began.

Early on, it was determined that (1) the organ would have mechanical action, (2) it would be tonally appropriate to the age of the building, (3) it would be visually designed so as not to overwhelm the scale and balance of the architecture, and (4) the primary visual focus at the front of the room would continue to be the triple window behind the altar. The restoration of the early 1940s had created two large closets in the front corners of the building. One was used as a tiny sacristy, the other as storage and placement for the bass speaker cabinets of the organ. It was determined that the organ would be placed where the sacristy had been, and the sacristy moved to the other side. The Altar Guild was quite pleased, as they had improved facilities and more extensive storage. 

A number of organbuilders were consulted, both from the U.S. and abroad, in our search for a builder. Almost every builder proposed an instrument that would be the dominant visual focus in the room. Some of them were tonally based on no more than an 8′ flute. David Moore, recommended by St. Margaret’s Convent in Boston and United Church on the Green, New Haven, was the only one who demonstrated an enthusiasm to work within our constraints.

As the organ and case design progressed, David proposed a novel solution: place the console at right angles to the main case and put the second manual pipes in the console in the manner of a continuo. In that manner, the main case could be lowered to match the sacristy on the other side, maintaining the Georgian balance of the church interior, while providing the tonal resources we needed. It also made it possible for the organist to face the choir directly across the chancel, with excellent sight lines.

The tonal design had three major objectives: (1) to provide leadership for congregational singing, (2) to accompany a wide variety of choral music, and (3) within its modest resources, to play as wide a spectrum of organ music as possible. 

Early in the planning stages, it was determined that the foundation would be an 8′ Principal, with both an 8′ flute and string to provide solid unison tone. A full diapason chorus, including 22⁄3, would be included, but the modest size of the building made the inclusion of a mixture unnecessary. The suggestion of a Hook-style Oboe as the Great reed was inspired! We insisted on a Tierce as well, for both solo color and ensemble brilliance. Having used a continuo for a year and a half before the instrument was installed, a similar tonal scheme of 8′, 4′, and 2′ for the second manual seemed natural. David suggested a Dulcian to round out the resources of that manual, adding significantly to the color possibilities of the instrument.

The organ has proved a tremendous success. Visually, it slips effortlessly into its corner of the building. The three pipe flats of the case front echo the semi-circular arches of the tripartite east window, repeated in pipe flats on the case side. The most oft-repeated comment from parishioners was “It looks like it’s always been there!” It was decided to use the natural darker grey of lead/tin pipe metal in the display pipes rather than shiny tin to minimize visual distraction from the altar. The wood façade pipes of the 8′ flute of the second manual are painted white to match the case. Many people don’t realize they are pipes at all until they see the mouths near the floor! The use of removable slatted grilles at the top of the second manual case allows for both good tonal egress and tuning ease. 

Musically the organ has been a huge success. The modest stoplist of 13 registers, with two reeds, two mutations, and four unison flue ranks lends itself to performing a wide spectrum of music. Though much of the instrument is inspired by 19th-century American organbuilding, early music sounds extremely convincing. Bach sounds very convincing, Sweelinck variations show off varieties of tonal color, the Dulcian can sound like a Renaissance consort when used by itself but becomes a chameleon when combined with one or both of the Positiv flutes. The Hautboy functions as a ‘petit trompette’, smooth in the treble and bolder in the bass. It serves as a very attractive solo stop, but when combined with the principals, becomes bold and assertive. Add the Twelfth and Tierce and it becomes a fiery French Grand Jeu. The solid foundation tone makes the instrument an excellent vehicle for Mendelssohn, and the Viol, both alone and with the Holpipe, provides softer sounds. There is sufficient tonal variety for stirring hymn singing as well as accompaniment of Anglican choral music. 

In addition to a performance by the young Dutchman from David Moore’s shop, Lubbert Gnodde, further recitals in the inaugural series were presented by Mark Brombaugh, Bryan Mock, and myself, with repertoire ranging from late Medieval to William Albright. 

The instrument continues to serve as proof that a real pipe organ is within the realm of possibility for a small parish, and that it can provide more musical satisfaction than an electronic with a plethora of digital gadgets and twice as many stops.

—Michael Menne

Cover photo: Sabine Joyce

GREAT (I) 56 keys, CCРg3

8′ Open Diapason

8′ Holpipe

8′ Viol

4′ Principal

22⁄3′ Twelfth

2′ Fifteenth

13⁄5′ Tierce

8′ Hautboy

POSITIV (II) 56 keys, CCРg3

8′ Stop’d Diapason

4′ Flute

2′ Fifteenth

8′ Dulcian

PEDAL 30 keys, CCРg3

16′ Bourdon

Couplers

I–P

II–P

II–I