HeillerFest

January 5, 1960–November 12, 2013

Leonardo Ciampa is Maestro di Cappella Onorario of the Basilica di Sant’Ubaldo in Gubbio, Italy, and organist of St. John the Evangelist Church in Cambridge, Massachusetts.

When you see a bud growing out of the ground, you’re not sure what it is yet, so you water it and feed it, and you wait to see what it grows into. But you don’t want to step on it. And if the bud is very small, all the more important not to step on it.

—Yuko Hayashi

Yuko Hayashi is gone.

I feel unworthy of eulogizing her. I do not presume to rank among her greatest students—a very long list that includes James David Christie, Carolyn Shuster Fournier, Mamiko Iwasaki, Peter Sykes, Christa Rakich, Gregory Crowell, Mark Dwyer, Kevin Birch, Kyler Brown, Barbara Bruns, Ray Cornils, Nancy Granert, Hatsumi Miura, Tomoko Akatsu Miyamoto, Dana Robinson, Naomi Shiga, Paul Tegels, and others too numerous to name. 

I cannot describe, or comprehend, the fortune of being her student between the ages of 15 and 18—at the time, her only high school student. She was in her late 50s—still at the height of her powers, still performing internationally and recording. She brought a constant parade of heavy-hitters to Old West Church in Boston for recitals and masterclasses. During those three years alone (1986–1989), there were José Manuel Azkue, Guy Bovet, Fenner Douglass, Susan Ferré, Roberta Gary, Mireille Lagacé, Joan Lippincott, Karel Paukert, Umberto Pineschi, Peter Planyavsky, Michael Radulescu, Montserrat Torrent, Harald Vogel, and the list goes on. Yuko was something of an impresario. In the 70s, when Harald Vogel was completely unknown in America, she brought him to Old West to play his very first concert here—for $100, which she paid out of her own pocket! Guy Boet, same story—his first concert in America, for $100. In 1972, at the International Christian University (ICU) in Tokyo, Yuko organized the very first organ academy ever held in Japan, bringing both Anton Heiller and Marie-Claire Alain. In 1985, Yuko, Umberto Pineschi, and Masakata Kanazawa started the Academy of Italian Organ Music in Shirakawa. A list of her accomplishments would be long, indeed.

At the time, I knew virtually nothing about Yuko’s life or career. Meeting her was truly random. It was September of 1985 (Bach’s 300th birthday year). I was skimming the concert listings in The Boston Globe, and I happened to see that there was going to be an all-Bach organ and harpsichord concert at Old West Church, given by Peter Williams. I had never heard a “real pipe organ,” and I had never set foot in a Protestant church before. I had no idea who Peter Williams was, and I had no particular interest in the organ or harpsichord. I was a 14-year-old piano student in the New England Conservatory prep school. The craziest part of all? I had not the faintest idea that the New England Conservatory organ department held their lessons, classes, and concerts at Old West, or that the church’s organist happened to be department chair. Attending the concert was nothing more than a whim.

I was immediately grabbed, both by the sound of the Fisk’s ravishing plenum, and by Williams’s exquisite selections, all from Bach’s youth. I still remember every piece on the program, which opened with Wie schön leuchtet der Morgenstern, BWV 739. After the concert, a short but elegant Japanese woman introduced herself to me and shook my hand. I had no idea she had any affiliation with NEC. I’m not sure I even understood that she was the church’s organist.

Who could have predicted that, one year later, September 1986, I would quit the piano and become an organ student of Yuko, taking lessons on that same instrument? But even that was random. In the NEC prep school catalogue, under “Organ,” Yuko’s was the name listed. That’s the one and only reason I contacted her.

Early years in Japan

(1929–1953)

Yuko Hayashi was born in 1929 in Hiratsuka, a coastal town 24 miles from Yokohama. She was born on November 2. (She used to joke about having been born on All Souls’ Day, having missed All Saints’ Day by only one day!) Many of Yuko’s students would come to notice her unusual perceptiveness. A couple of us thought it bordered on ESP. She had the ability to reach for things even when she couldn’t see them. Case in point: why did a woman who was born in 1929, in a country that was only one percent Christian, decide that she wanted to become an organist, when she didn’t even know what an organ was?

Yuko’s father was a Japanese Anglican priest. He was the pastor of St. Andrew’s Church in Yokohama. At age five, Yuko started playing the reed organ at St. Andrew’s. (Soon enough, she became sufficiently proficient to play an entire Anglican service.) In sixth grade, her music teacher suggested she learn the piano. “Hanon: hated it. Czerny: a little better. Burgmüller: not as bad. But then, Bach Inventions! I became hooked on this music. I practiced all hours; I didn’t want to quit.”¹ She reasoned, “If Bach wrote pieces for the organ, then the organ must be a wonderful instrument.”² She knew that she wanted to play the organ, even before she had ever seen one! The only instruments she knew were the reed organ at church and a Hammond. In 2007 I asked her, “When you were young, how did you know you wanted to play the organ if you didn’t even know what an organ was?” She replied, “I knew when I met J. S. Bach.”³ In a 2009 email she wrote, “If I was not exposed to the two-part Inventions by Bach just by chance in my youth, I am positively sure that I [would] not [have been] drawn into music for so many decades since. Certainly, I would not have chosen organ as my main instrument.”⁴

Finally at age 15 she saw a pipe organ for the first time, in Tokyo. It was important to practice on a pipe organ, for she was preparing to audition for the Tokyo Ueno Conservatory (now named Tokyo University of the Arts). Imagine this 15-year-old girl, in 1944, with bombs falling around her, traveling two and a half hours to Tokyo to practice for two hours on this organ, then making the two and a half hour return trip home. (I recall that, in the 1980s, she told me that this organ was an Estey.⁵ However, other students remember her saying it was a Casavant.⁶)

She passed the audition and enrolled in the conservatory. Eight students had to share “a Yamaha and an electric-action pipe organ with a hideous sound. We each practiced for 50 minutes and then let the motor rest for ten minutes in between because it was old and cranky.”⁷ 

Study in America (1953–1960)

In the early 1950s, Yuko’s father urged her to visit America. She accepted a scholarship to attend Cottey College in Nevada, Missouri. The port of entry was faraway Seattle. The sea voyage from Yokohama to Seattle took 12 days. She arrived in Seattle on July 23, 1953. Tuition, room, and board were covered, but she had only thirty dollars in her pocket (which was all she was allowed). She stretched the thirty dollars as far as she could, though at least she had an Amtrak pass that enabled her to travel by train anywhere in the country.  

My father arranged a train trip for me around half of the country, visiting some of his friends. When I arrived in Seattle on July 23 [1953], his friend’s daughter, who was the secretary of St. Mark’s Cathedral, came to pick me up. Within two hours of setting foot on American soil, I played the organ at St. Mark’s. I think it was a Kilgen.⁸ I met Peter Hallock, and he gave me some of his compositions. From Seattle I went to San Francisco and stayed with my father’s friend there. I heard Richard Purvis play a recital in a museum, and I remember I kept looking around for the pipes, which were not visible. That was my second American organ experience. Next I stayed in Los Angeles for a few days. I didn’t see any organs there, but what I remember most was my first American picnic, a culturally foreign experience for me. Then I went to Salt Lake City, found the Mormon Tabernacle organ and went to two concerts in one day. Alexander Schreiner was there. Can you imagine? Next I visited my father’s friends in Minneapolis, and then the remainder of the summer stayed in a guesthouse at the University of Chicago. Finally, I arrived at Cottey College, and do you know what I found there? A Baldwin organ!⁹

After a year she was no longer able to stay at the school; however, she received a scholarship to go to any other school of her choice in America. Where would she go? She knew nothing about Oberlin or Eastman. Ultimately, her decision was influenced by having grown up by the sea.

At that school in Missouri, every Friday you know what we had to eat? Fish. That fish must have been dead for ten days by the time we had it. The fish was so fresh in Japan. So I knew I wanted to live near the sea. New York was too big. Washington, D.C., was too political. But Boston . . . .¹⁰

And so in 1954 she entered the New England Conservatory and studied organ with the legendary George Faxon.  

I spoke almost no English, and he didn’t say very much. So our lessons were filled with music but had long silences! One week he asked me to bring in the Vivaldi[/Bach] A-minor concerto. And I memorized it. I’d never memorized anything before. He didn’t say much. But you know what he did? He wrote on a piece of paper “Sowerby Pageant” and told me to go to Carl Fischer [Music Company] to pick up the music. When I got to the store and showed the man the piece of paper, he said, “Oh, you’re playing this?” I said, “Yes.” I had no idea what it was. Then when I opened the music! Incredibly difficult. At my next lesson Faxon wrote in the pedalings, very quickly, from beginning to end. What a technique he had. And you knew where he got it? Fernando Germani. Once Faxon took me to Brown University to see his teacher, Germani, play the Sowerby. I got to sit very close to him, so I could see Germani playing. And there he was, five-foot-three, his feet flying all over the pedalboard.¹¹

On February 6, 1956, Yuko played her bachelor’s recital in Jordan Hall, her first recital ever. In only three weeks Yuko memorized the daunting program, which included Vivaldi/Bach A-minor concerto (first movement), D’Aquin Noël X, Schumann Canon (probably B minor, op. 56, no. 5), Bach Toccata, Adagio, and Fugue, Liszt “Ad Nos” (second half), Sowerby Pageant, Titcomb Regina Caeli, Dupré Second Symphony (Intermezzo), and Messiaen L’Ascension (third movement).

In 1956, Faxon told Yuko, “This is still a secret, so you can’t tell anybody. But I’m leaving NEC and going to teach at B.U. [Boston University]” Yuko was disappointed at the news. “I wanted to follow him to B.U. I didn’t know anybody else. But he said, ‘No, don’t follow me. You studied with me two years—that’s enough. Stay at NEC.’ And then he said, ‘You must make Boston your home.’”¹²

Yuko was disheartened and considered returning to Japan. But Chester (“Chet”) Williams, beloved dean of NEC, would have none of it. Faxon’s imminent departure was still a secret. But Chet had another secret for Yuko: “There is another man coming, someone with great ideas.” That man was Donald Willing. On Chet’s advice, Yuko stayed at NEC.

Willing had been to Europe and was galvanized by the new tracker instruments being built. He immediately arranged for NEC to purchase new practice organs by Metzler and Rieger. The 1957 Metzler was voiced by Oscar Metzler himself.

As soon as I touched the instrument, I had an immediate reaction: “This is it! This is a living organism!” My teacher did not persuade me to have this reaction—I had it on my own, from touching the instrument myself. That was 1957. The next year, 1958, I got my M. M. from the conservatory. And that same year, the Flentrop was put in at Busch-Reisinger [now Adolphus Busch Hall]. That was Biggs’s instrument. He let all the students play it. We had to practice at night, when the museum was closed. And we were poor; we couldn’t afford to pay a security guard. So Peggy [Mrs. Biggs] would act as the guard. The Biggs’s were so generous to organ students.¹³

Not all the organ students were taken by these new instruments. “They would say, ‘Are you going backwards?’”¹⁴ Yuko was undeterred. She played her Artist Diploma recital on the Flentrop in 1960.

Leonhardt and Heiller (1960–1966)

In 1960, Yuko joined the faculty of the organ department of New England Conservatory. At this point she had not yet heard of Gustav Leonhardt.  

I first heard of Leonhardt from John
Fesperman. Before John went to the Smithsonian, he taught at the Conservatory. The organ faculty was Donald Willing, John
Fesperman, and I, who had just been hired. I don’t know why, but John had been to Holland already, and he said, “Leonhardt is coming; you should go study with him.” So I did. I used to go to Waltham [Massachusetts] to practice cembalo at the Harvard Shop, and once a week I went to New York to study with Leonhardt. He was young, late 20s. A whole summer [1960] I studied with him.¹⁵

Yuko so enjoyed her study with Leonhardt that she considered switching to harpsichord. Indirectly it was Leonhardt who dissuaded her.

Finally [Leonhardt] said, “You really should study organ with Anton Heiller.” And I thought, “Who is that?” So I bought records of Heiller. You know, the old LP records. [. . .] [I]t was grand playing. Already I noticed something.¹⁶

1962 marked Heiller’s first visit to America and his first ever trip on an airplane! He gave two all-Bach performances on the Flentrop at Harvard University. Yuko attended the first performance and was so impressed that she attended the second one as well.  

And you know the most wonderful thing he played? O Mensch . . . with the melody on the Principal . . . . The whole program swept me away. And I immediately said, “This is the man I want to study with.” But I was shy, so I didn’t go to him right away. [. . .] He used to come to America every three years. He had come in ’62, so in ’65 he came back, and he returned again in ’68, ’71, etc. So in ’65 he was teaching at Washington University in St. Louis. I went down there, and for the first time, I met him. [The course was] six-and-a-half weeks. Every morning, he gave four hours of classes. Bach, David, Reger, and Hindemith—on a Möller! Then, in the afternoon, private lessons on a 10-stop Walcker organ in a private studio.¹⁷

Heiller urged Yuko to enroll in the summer academy in Haarlem the following year (1961). This marked her very first visit to Europe. She went on to study with Heiller sporadically, following him wherever he happened to be playing. (She was the only Heiller student who didn’t study with him in Vienna.)

Maybe [Heiller] taught differently with other people, but with me, most of what I learned was from his playing, not from his words. [H]e played a lot [during lessons]. But I would move and he would sit on the bench. He didn’t just play over my shoulder. With him, nothing was halfway. [. . .] Funny thing: when he was just standing there, without doing anything, I played better. He felt the music inside him, and it came out. It was a weird thing. [. . .] I performed his organ concerto. Of course he wanted to hear it at a lesson. But I wasn’t ready. He only told me about it three weeks before. But again, he was standing right there. And it’s funny, I was able to play it. You see, he was so perfect, he made me feel I could play. [. . .] You know, I was so little—I’m still little. (laughter) And he was much bigger than me. But he said to me, “Don’t be afraid of the piece.”¹⁸

In 1969, Yuko became chair of the organ department of NEC. She remained until 2001, a total of 41 years on the faculty, 30 of which as chair.

First European tours (1968)

Yuko’s first concert in Europe was at the 1968 International Organ Festival in Haarlem. From there she went on to play many concerts on historic instruments in Austria, Belgium, Denmark, Germany, Holland, Italy, Spain, and Switzerland. “The wife of Hiroshi Tsuji, the Japanese organbuilder, arranged my first concert tour in Europe. [. . .] I soon discovered that I loved going to places where I didn’t know the people or the organs. I like to explore things I don’t know.”¹⁹ Here again we see Yuko’s fearlessness in reaching for things she could not see. As Nancy Granert reminisced, 

One time, Yuko and I were talking about traveling alone through Europe. I was saying that I always had a map in my purse, and that I really didn’t like being lost. She replied that she loved being lost and to find new places. She, after all, always knew where she was, right?²⁰

Old West Church (1974)

Charles Fisk built one of his most beautiful instruments, Opus 55, for Old West Church in Boston.²¹ It went on to become the main teaching instrument for the New England Conservatory organ department for decades. The organ was dedicated on Easter Sunday 1971 by Max Miller and Marian Ruhl Metson.

In 1973, Old West was conducting a search for a new organist. The organ committee consisted of the Rev. Dr. Richard Eslinger (pastor of Old West), Charles Fisk, Max Miller, and Jeanne Crowgey.²² Sneakily, but fortuitously, Eslinger and Fisk invited Yuko to attend a committee meeting in December 1973. After this meeting, they took Yuko across the street for a beer or two at a Chinese restaurant and lounge. Yuko enjoyed telling this story.

Charlie said, “Yuko, have you ever thought of becoming the organist for Old West Church?” These were absolutely unexpected words, and my answer was simply, “No.” Charlie kept a smile on his face and went on to tell me how convinced he was for me to be the organist of his organ at Old West, and that it was the right thing for me to do.

I was overwhelmed by his totally positive thoughts, and by the end of the conversation that evening I was convinced that Charlie was right and said “Yes” to him without knowing what the future would hold. [. . .] In February of 1974 I began to play for worship services (as a non-salaried organist), organized organ recitals for the season as well as the weekly lunchtime concerts that, after a decade, evolved into the Summer Evening Concerts.

As I look back [. . .] I say to myself, “How on the earth did Charlie know that I would be the appropriate one?” [. . . .] Charlie then knew that if I were caught by [the] beautiful sonorities that I could not leave them, would enjoy them, would maintain the instrument, and would let it be heard and played by all. [. . .] 

As I listened to organ students of the New England Conservatory day by day, year after year, and, of course, through my own practice, I became convinced that the 1971 Charles Fisk organ at Old West is a living organism and not just an organ with extraordinary beauty. This organ responds to the high demands of an artist as if a lively dialogue between two humans is being exchanged. I even dare say that the spirit of Charlie, an artist/organbuilder, is present when the organ is played by any organist who wishes to engage in conversation.²³

Yuko remained organist of Old West for 36 years. I was so fortunate to hear so many of her recitals there during the 1980s. I remember matchless performances of Bach’s Passacaglia, Franck’s Grand Pièce, and the Italian Baroque repertoire for which she had an incredible knack. (In fact, I never in my life heard a non-Italian play this music as well as she.²⁴) As late as 2008 (her last recital was in 2010), she gave a performance of Bach’s Pièce d’Orgue that to me remains the benchmark for all others. Few organists can play the middle gravement section without it sounding too long and too heavy. In Yuko’s hands, I was astonished by the articulation of each entrance of each of the five voices. I say without exaggeration that it sounded like a quintet of breathing musicians. I was so gripped by it that, when she got to the final section, I couldn’t believe how short the gravement had seemed.

As a teacher

Yuko made good use of her ESP. As a teacher, not only did she adapt to each individual student, but she adapted to each individual lesson with each student. Each lesson with her was a brand new experience—based solely on what she was sensing in the room at that moment. Besides her perceptiveness, she had something else: a regard for the value of each student. I can never forget something she told me many years later: “When you see a bud growing out of the ground, you’re not sure what it is yet, so you water it and feed it, and you wait to see what it grows into. But you don’t want to step on it.”²⁵ Her next sentence was even more unforgettable: “And if the bud is very small, all the more important not to step on it.” It would be hard to find a famous teacher with that level of regard for even the least talented among of her students.

Yuko’s ear was astonishing. She could have used that ear to be a critic or an adjudicator towards her students. Instead, she worked tirelessly to get them to use their own ear, to make their own decisions and judgments. In her gentle, quiet way (her voice never rose above a mezzo piano), she was relentless in making her students listen to the sound coming from the organ, in particular to be aware of the air going through the pipes. Most of all, she wanted her students to learn directly from the composer.

I will never forget playing Bach’s Allein Gott, BWV 664. The moment I stopped listening to one of the three voices, within milliseconds she started singing it. Then I would get back on track. Then, the millisecond that I stopped listening to another part, she would sing that one. That was how perceptive she was—which was both comforting and frightening! Another astonishing moment in our lessons that is worth mentioning is the one and only time I played Frescobaldi for her. In modern parlance, you could say that I was “schooled.” I was playing the Kyrie della Domenica from Fiori Musicali, which is in four voices. I played it and could tell from her facial expression that she was not pleased. She said one sentence: “You know, this music was originally written on four staves.” I played it again. This time, her face was even more displeased, and she said nothing at all. She sat down on the bench next to me and said, “OK, you play the alto and the bass, and I’ll play the soprano and the tenor.” I was floored. Her two voices breathed. They sang. She got up from the bench, without saying a word. Her point was made, and powerfully.

Later years

Yuko and I exchanged many emails in 2009. Many of them concerned administrative details of the Old West Organ Society (of which I was then a board member). However, more often the emails were simply about music.  

I remember when I first heard Mozart, in a castle outside Vienna, in [the] early 1970s. It was a big shock to me. While they were performing Mozart’s chamber music, I started to have the image about the leaves of the tree which show the front of the leaf and the back of the leaf, back and forth. Their colors are very different from each other, yet [the] only differences are front or back of the same leaf. It influenced the dynamic control as well in their performance at the castle.²⁶

During this era she always wrote to me as a friend and colleague, never as a “student.” Only once did she give something resembling “advice:”

I believe, there are only two emotions that stand out, “Love” and “Fear.” You have plenty of both, which in [an] actual sense make [a] great artist. Your potentiality is enormous! Don’t waste it, please! After all, it is the gift from God.²⁷

She was pleased, then, when not long after that email I became artistic director of organ concerts at Massachusetts Institute of Technology (home of two historic Holtkamps from 1955). In October, Yuko called me to congratulate me. She reminisced about Walter Holtkamp, Sr., whom she met in Cleveland.

He was a strong character, and rather difficult to get along with. Yet, we liked each other. Walter took me for dinner, and to his organ in the Episcopal Church in Cleveland, and I played the organ for him. He liked my playing because I played exactly as I believed.

That led to reminiscing about Melville Smith, who dedicated the larger Holtkamp in Kresge Auditorium. She even knew about Saarinen, the architect who designed both Kresge and the MIT Chapel. One thing led to another. She ended up telling me practically her whole life story. We spoke for four (!)
hours. She did almost all of the talking. There wasn’t a single dull moment. Every sentence was imbued with energy. She talked about growing up in Japan during the war, doing forced labor even as a teenager. She talked about her earliest musical experiences and about more recent organbuilding trends in Japan. She spoke at length about Marc Garnier, who built the monumental organ at the Tokyo Metropolitan Art Center. She told story after story about Guy Bovet, Harald Vogel, Peter Williams, and Karel Paukert (in whose presence she set foot in Old West Church for the very first time). She told me about the time she was in France with Michel Chapuis, and she was playing a three-voice work, and Chapuis reached over and improvised a fourth voice over what she was playing. She spoke of Heiller (which she did in most every conversation I ever had with her). She even spoke of events and feelings in her personal life. It is safe to say that it was one of the most extraordinary phone conversations that I have ever had, with anyone. The next time I saw her, in 2010, she showed signs of memory loss. Clearly this was Yuko’s instinct at work, once again: she knew that in that phone conversation in 2009, she needed to tell me her life’s story.

At the 2014 AGO national convention in Boston, there was a workshop entitled “The Organ as Teacher: The Legacy of Performance Pedagogy at Old West Church,” moderated by Margaret Angelini, with Barbara Bruns, Susan Ferré, and Anne Labounsky. Indirectly it was an event honoring Yuko. (Had it been entitled “An Event in Honor of Yuko Hayashi,” she would have strongly objected.) It was hard for Yuko’s friends to see her in this state of diminished powers—at times aware of what was going on, at other times not so much. But then came a moment, after the workshop, when Yuko was standing, chatting with Ferré and Labounsky. All of a sudden she looked at them, pointed to me, and told them, “He’s a wonderful musician.” For me, that was the equivalent of a New York Times review. I have sought no other musical validation since that moment.

Last summer Yuko’s health declined. In September I learned that her condition was so grave that her family in Japan were contacted. Her 88th birthday was to be on November 2, followed eight days later by a celebratory concert at Old West, featuring some of her greatest former students. None of us thought she was going to live until the concert—we expected it to be a memorial service. Each day I checked my iPhone compulsively, not wanting to miss the terrible news. But the news didn’t come. Now it was November 10, the night of the gala concert. Apparently she was still with us—I had not heard otherwise. I arrived at Old West on that bitter cold night. I walked out of the cold into the warm church, and I heard people saying that Yuko was there! At Old West! I didn’t fully believe it. I looked around, and then I saw it: the back of a wheelchair. I raced over, and there she was. Her eyes were as alert as I had ever seen them. This isn’t possible! How did they even get her there, on that bitter cold evening? But Barbara Bruns made it happen. Yuko took my hand in hers and kept rubbing it, looking me straight in the eye the whole time. Not a word was said.  

The entire evening Yuko had that same alertness in her eyes, start to finish. Being at Old West, among her students and friends, hearing Charles Fisk’s beloved Opus 55—the energy from all of it must have thrilled her.

A few months passed. For Epiphany weekend, January 6 and 7, 2018, as a prelude at all of my Masses, I played Bach’s Wie schön leuchtet der Morgenstern, BWV 739—the very first piece at Peter Williams’s life-changing recital at Old West so many years ago, the night I met Yuko Hayashi. Eerily, but not surprisingly, only three and a half hours after my last Mass, Yuko Hayashi left this world.

Notes

1. Phone conversation with the author,  July 25, 2007.

2. Ibid.

3. Ibid. 

4. Email to the author, October 19, 2009.

5. 1918 Estey (Opus 1598) at Rikkyo (St. Paul’s) University, Tokyo. Replaced by Beckerath in 1984.

6. 1927 Casavant (Opus 1208) at Holy Trinity Church, Tokyo. Church and organ were destroyed by a firebomb in 1945.

7. Diane Luchese, “A conversation with Yuko Hayashi,” The American Organist, September 2010, p. 57. 

8. It was a ca. 1902 Kimball (not Kilgen), with tubular-pneumatic action.

9. Luchese, op. cit., p. 57f.

10. Phone conversation with the author, July 25, 2007.

11. Ibid. 

12. Ibid.

13. Ibid.

14. Ibid.

15. From an unpublished interview between Yuko and the author, which took place in Boston on February 17, 2004. 

16. Ibid.

17. Ibid.

18. Ibid.

19. Luchese, op. cit., p. 60. 

20. Conversation with Nancy Granert, January 11, 2018.

21. Seven years previous, and 500 meters down the road, Fisk had installed his Opus 44 at King’s Chapel, the first modern American three-manual tracker organ built in the second half of the twentieth century. The organ was a gift of Amelia Peabody. Thanks to the friendship between the pastors of Old West (Dr. Wilbur C. Ziegler) and King’s Chapel (Dr. Joseph Barth), Amelia Peabody gave a grant to Old West for their new organ. The choice of Fisk was endorsed by the organists of both King’s Chapel (Daniel Pinkham) and Old West (James Busby), as well as E. Power Biggs.

22. Jeanne Crowgey was a member of Old West from 1972 to 1980. She was also an organist, who served unofficially as an interim before the selection of Yuko Hayashi. Crowgey went on to be Yuko’s invaluable assistant during the first six years of the Old West Organ Society. Crowgey did a large amount of the administrative work for the international series, the summer series, and the weekly noontime concert series. She was one of the last friends to visit Yuko before her passing.

23. From a reminiscence written by Yuko in 2004 and posted on the C. B. Fisk website (edited by L. C.).

24. Once in the 1960s she played a recital at the Piaristenkirche in Vienna, which included a piece by Frescobaldi. Heiller was in attendance and raved about how she played the Frescobaldi, a composer she had never studied with him (phone conversation with the author, year unknown).

25. Phone conversation with the author, year unknown.

26. Email to the author, June 10, 2009.

27. Email to the author, September 2, 2009.

Recitalist, teacher and recording artist, Marie-Claire Alain is one of the leading personalities in the world of organ music. Born into a family of musicians at Saint-Germain-en-Laye, she studied music at the Conservatoire National Supérieur de Paris, where she won four first prizes, soon followed by several awards in international competitions.
Marie-Claire Alain’s concert tours have led her throughout the world, including numerous trips to the United States and Canada since 1961. Critics praise the clarity of her playing, the musicality of her interpretations, the purity of her style, and her mastery of registration.
Greatly sought after as a teacher and justly famous for her lectures illustrated with musical examples, Marie-Claire Alain bases her teaching on extensive, unrelenting musicological studies in organ literature and performance practices of early music. After teaching for sixteen summers in Haarlem, The Netherlands (1956–1972), she now holds a workshop every summer in Romainmôtier, Switzerland, where the house organ from her family home in France is located. She taught for many years at the Conservatoire National de Region de Rueil-Malmaison, followed by several years at the Conservatoire Supérieur de Paris. Her discography is impressive, containing over 220 recordings, including the famous “integrales” or complete works (J. S. Bach, Couperin, de Grigny, Daquin, Franck, Handel, J. Alain, etc.), which have won her numerous Grands Prix du Disque in France and abroad. In addition, an educational DVD featuring Mme. Alain was produced by the American Guild of Organists in 2002. Marie-Claire Alain has received honorary doctorates from Colorado State University (Fort Collins), Southern Methodist University, Dallas, Texas, The Boston Conservatory of Music, McGill University, Montréal, Canada, and most recently in 2006 from the Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore, Maryland. In 1984, she was named International Performer of the Year by the New York City AGO chapter, and in 1999 was given the AGO Lifetime Achievement Award. In France, she was awarded the degree “Commandeur des Arts et Lettres.”
As an outgrowth of her great interest in the pipe organs of her own country, Mme. Alain serves on a commission of the French government for the promotion and construction of new pipe organs in France. Classic CD magazine named her one of “The Greatest Players of the Century” in 2001 in a list that included the entire classical music world. For many years, she has been an adjudicator at organ competitions all over the world. In 1999 she was president of the jury of Concours Suisse de l’orgue, and on several occasions she has presided over the juries of the Concours International de Chartres and of the Musashino International Competition in Tokyo.
—Stephen Hamilton
 

In 1965, a brilliant young student of Arthur Poister, Byron L. Blackmore, moved to my hometown of La Crosse, Wisconsin, to assume the city’s only full-time church position. I had the privilege of being his first organ student at the age of 13, and it was Byron who introduced me to the artistry of Marie-Claire Alain. He had me purchase her recordings of de Grigny, Couperin, Bach, Handel and Jehan Alain, and from these recordings my life completely changed. I immediately fell in love with her incredible musicianship, her extraordinary attention to detail, touch, ornamentation, breath, style and, above all, music-making, and I knew I wanted one day to be her student.
I met Marie-Claire for the first time at a concert she performed in Rochester, Minnesota, when I was 14 years old. She made a very ordinary electric-action organ come alive. Following the concert, we spoke at the reception in French, and she patiently coached our conversation along, helping me with my first year “command” of the language. She was so kind, warm and encouraging. She gave me her home address in L’Etang-la-Ville and told me to keep in touch. I couldn’t believe such a great artist would be so kind and take so much time with a young student. Many years later, I realized I was the same age as her only son, Benoit. She has always had a loving maternal relationship with all of her students.
Throughout my high school and early undergraduate years, I followed her around the country for masterclasses and concerts. The most memorable was her week-long seminar at Fort Collins, Colorado, in 1971. It was amazing to see her deal with so many diverse students. She had an uncanny way of meeting every student where they were and helping them change by opening their ears and minds. She received her first honorary doctorate on this occasion and, twenty years later, I had the honor of placing a doctoral hood over her head as Chair of the Organ and Harpsichord Department at the Boston Conservatory. After my junior year at Oberlin, I decided to take a year off and go to Paris to study privately with Marie-Claire. We worked mainly on classical French works, Buxtehude, and Jehan Alain. Her attention to detail, her pleas to always listen to the music, and her insistence that the organ itself was one’s best teacher changed my approach to performing and certainly influenced me greatly in my own teaching. As I was particularly interested in Buxtehude, she encouraged me to go to North Germany and play the historic organs, which I did. Because of this, I devoted the next ten years of my life to an intensive study of Buxtehude and the North German masters of the 17th century.
Marie-Claire Alain taught all her students to question, to be stylish, eclectic, open, inquisitive, ready to do research, always prepared to learn and change one’s mind, and to live as a 20th-century musician. She stressed the importance of knowing, studying and performing music of our entire heritage and to be “diversified” (she was using this term years before investment companies did!). Her performances of music including the complete classical French masters, Muffat, Bruhns, Bach, Franck, Liszt, Widor, Jehan Alain, Duruflé, Messiaen and Charles Chaynes were all equally thrilling.
The most moving day of my life was in Paris in January, 1995, when Marie-Claire invited me to move from “vous” to “tu”—but it never feels right when I do this. The respect I have for our “Mâitresse” is too great. Happy birthday, dear Marie-Claire—thank you for all you have given the world—you will live forever!
—James David Christie
Professor of Organ
Oberlin Conservatory

It is both a privilege and an honor to be invited to join with those who are contributing tributes to Marie-Claire Alain. Like many, I first became acquainted with her through her prolific recordings and writings. It was not until the 1981 organ workshop at Colorado State University, Fort Collins, that I had the opportunity to observe her as a recitalist and teacher, and to get to know her as a person. My wife Marian was at the conference with me, and we were completely captivated at how the remarkable personality of Mme. Alain showed forth in all that she did—conducting classes and performing. Her enthusiasm and love for many different styles of music, along with her attention to detail and appropriate fingering, were things that those of us who were observers could retain far into the future.
Marian and I both found Mme. Alain to be supremely generous with her musical ideas, and gracious in letting us “pick her brain”! I clearly recall Marian remarking wistfully how she wanted so much to play Franck’s E-Major Choral, but her hands were too small. The immediate response was “Oh nonsense! I’ll show you how to do it!”
Aside from music and pedagogy, Marian was quite taken with her many other interests, especially relating to her home life—her children and the roses she tended to with loving care. We couldn’t get over how, being a genius, she was so very down-to-earth!
Regarding Mme. Alain’s stature as a teacher and scholar, the two occasions that gave Marian and me the best opportunities for observation and assimilation were the Fort Collins workshop and then, sometime later, a similar week at the Eastman School of Music.
The five-day Fort Collins event included a recital, which was divided in half and played on two different organs. The first part, devoted to Bach, was played on the 3-manual Casavant (1969) at the university. The second half was at St. Luke’s Episcopal Church where the organ is a 2-manual Phelps (1974). This program included Nivers, Franck, and Alain. It was of interest to me to note the effective way in which she handled the Franck and Alain on an unenclosed instrument that was predominately North German in style.
I was also greatly interested in her class presentation of the connection between French and German organ music. There were five groups of music for illustration:
1. Music written on religious texts. (from Couperin Parish Mass, Bach Partita O Gott du frommer Gott)
2. Use of liturgical melodies (four excerpts from de Grigny Mass; Bach, four chorales from BWV 651) 3, 4. Bach’s influence through the 19th century (Bach Prelude & Fugue in a minor, Franck Choral No. 3 in a minor, Bach Passacaglia, Franck Choral No. 2 in b minor)
5. Connections of J. Alain with J. S. Bach (Bach Sonata No. 3 in d-minor, Alain Variations sur un thème de Clement Janequin, Choral Dorien, Choral Phrygien, Litanies).
Marian and I gained so much from the sessions that week that I find myself wishing I could hear them all over again!
One especial gesture of kindness that I cannot forget is the beautiful note that Mme. Alain wrote to me following Marian’s death ten years ago. This letter completes the esteem and admiration we both had for Mme. Alain for all these years—as a performer, teacher, and a wonderful person!
This is to wish her continuing great joy and success for many, many years!
—David Craighead
Professor Emeritus
Eastman School of Music

Like my friend and colleague Jim Christie, I was also a young person in Wisconsin when I first came to know of Marie-Claire Alain. Playing the organ was my first love, and it was during my senior year in high school that I went to hear her play a recital at Northwestern University. The program made such an impression on me that to this day, 35 years later, I can still remember some of the compositions that she performed.
My decision to enroll at the Lawrence University Conservatory of Music was largely based on the fact that their organ teacher, Miriam Duncan, had recently returned to the States after a year of sabbatical study in Europe. During that year she was a student of Anton Heiller, but also took some lessons from Mme. Alain, specifically to study early French music. So, having the opportunity to study with a student of Marie-Claire Alain, I soaked up information and performance practice like a sponge. All I wanted to do my freshman year was to play early French music! Quite coincidentally, in the fall of my sophomore year, I happened to win a contest in which I played Clérambault’s Second Suite. Anton Heiller was on the jury and was the first to plant the seed that perhaps I might want to study with Mme. Alain myself some day. That’s exactly what I did during my senior year. After graduate school I went back to France for two more years.
Mme. Alain’s students traveled to her home in L’Etang-la-Ville, a western suburb of Paris. (In about the mid-1970s, she affiliated herself with the conservatory at Rueil-Malmaison, and so students after me studied in a more structured conservatory environment.) It was such a relaxed environment (including her cat sitting on the window sill) that it was more an atmosphere of friends getting together than a young student in the presence of a great teacher. My lesson time was on Tuesdays at 10:15, and I was her only student of the morning. Sometimes the lessons were an hour; sometimes they stretched to 90 minutes or more.
I’ll never forget my first lesson. One can imagine what a bundle of nerves I was, yet Marie-Claire put me instantly at ease with a simple admonishment: “You’re not here to impress me with how well you play, nor to make me cry with what beautiful music you can produce. You’re here to learn.”
And so it was, for three years, countless lessons during which we covered all of the major French Baroque literature, nearly the complete works of Bach, and most of the music of Jehan Alain, Franck and other French masters, as well as a generous smattering of North German music, too. The repertoire at each lesson was totally different. Only once did I play the same piece twice.
Mme. Alain’s teaching style was similar to what I had been used to as an undergraduate. She started with the assumption that one could at least play the notes and beyond that very little was ever necessarily right or wrong. Often she would throw out a provocative question about interpretation just to quiz general knowledge of a period and style. On more than one occasion I caught her purposely stating something totally contrary just to see if I’d have the wherewithal (or nerve?) to contradict her! More than anything, Marie-Claire made a very conscious effort to allow her students the freedom to express themselves at the organ. I remember her saying “the last thing the world needs is a bunch of little Marie-Claires running around!” Since then I’ve always been of the opinion that the mark of a really great teacher is one who can teach without stifling the spirit or creativity of the student. Her students bear her imprint without being her clone.
In the 30 years that have elapsed since those days as a student in France, I have been continually impressed with Marie-Claire’s continued interest in her former students. It is often said that her students are like her children and that, while they grow up and move away, the bond remains nonetheless. When I consider the sheer number of students that she has taught over her impressive career, I wonder how she has time to do anything else except to keep up with her extended family. Recently, I’ve heard Marie-Claire play any number of times and, like Horowitz or Rubenstein, who played well into their 80s, she continues to play beautifully. Clearly you’re not ready to retire from performance, Marie-Claire! Thank you from the bottom of our hearts for your wisdom, your guidance, your inspiration, and, most of all, for your enduring and loving friendship.
—Thomas F. Froehlich
Organist, First Presbyterian Church
Dallas, Texas

One of the great pleasures for me during the past 30 years of teaching at McGill has been those numerous occasions when Marie-Claire Alain came to give masterclasses and play concerts. The most memorable of these was in November 2001 when her visit happily coincided with the Fall Convocation, and McGill was able to confer a Doctor of Music, Honoris Causa, on her. The text of the citation that I read was as follows:
“Marie-Claire Alain is one of the legendary musicians of our time. Mme. Alain was born in 1926 at Saint-Germain-en-Laye into a home full of music. Her father, Albert Alain, who had studied with Caussade, Guilmant, and Vierne, was an accomplished church musician, performer, and composer. Her brother, Jehan, killed in action in 1940, left a legacy of some of the 20th century’s finest organ music. A second brother, Olivier, became a leading musicologist. By the age of 12, Marie-Claire was already, on occasion, replacing her father in the organ loft. Her own teachers, after her father, included such illustrious musicians as Marcel Dupré, Maurice Duruflé, André Marchal, and Gaston Litaize: a goodly heritage indeed.
“As concert organist, Mme. Alain has toured worldwide and made over 200 LP recordings and more than 60 CDs, and earned numerous prizes, including multiple Grands Prix du Disque. “As a pedagogue, Mme. Alain has had a spectacular career. Students from the four corners of the globe have flocked to Paris to study with her, their names reading like a veritable Who’s Who of the organ world today. Probably no other organ teacher has produced so many prize winners at international competitions. Her courses are legendary, her teaching marked by an open questioning manner and a quest for authenticity in matters of historical performance practice.
“Mme. Alain has also been a champion of historical instruments, evidenced by the great care she takes to choose the most historically appropriate instrument for each recording project. This obviously entails exhaustive research.
“As a scholar, Mme. Alain has published numerous articles on performance practice, many of which have been widely translated. We are pleased to note frequent citation in musicological literature of one of her articles published by McGill in L’Orgue à notre époque, a collection of papers and proceedings of an organ symposium held at the University in 1981 on the occasion of the installation of the French classical organ in Redpath Hall.
“Marie-Claire Alain has been named a member of the Swedish Royal Academy of Music. The city of Lubeck granted her the Buxtehude Prize in recognition of her work promoting early German music, and the city of Budapest awarded her the Franz Liszt Prize. In France, she is a Commander of the Légion d’honneur and a member of the Ordre Nationale du Mérite and of the Ordre Nationale des Arts et Lettres.”
The 2001 visit of Marie-Claire also happily coincided with the 20th anniversary of the splendid Wolff organ in Redpath Hall. She gave masterclasses on both weekends before and after convocation and played a memorable recital. During the planning stages of this organ in the late 1970s, she was always ready and willing to answer questions, or to point us in the right direction and open doors. Needless to say, planning an historical copy in the 1970s was somewhat more nerve wracking than it might appear today. It was a great adventure, and Marie-Claire knew how to encourage us to stay the course whenever doubts set in.
There are many anecdotes that come to mind. One of the most memorable for me dates from 1969 when she invited all her students to come to Poitiers. She had just completed a recording session over the preceding two days, and there she was giving us a class on this great Clicquot. The energy and the generosity were breathtaking to say the least. And of course there was wonderful food and wine in a little restaurant sympathique!
A story that I love to tell my students, especially those having difficulty remembering where the stops are, concerns a visit to play a concert on the von Beckerath in my church in Montréal. I met her at the airport around 11 am and we proceeded to the church. She spent about half an hour trying out various registrations and asking my opinion but she never wrote anything down. Then we went off for a leisurely lunch bien arosé. After lunch she went to her hotel to rest and to study her scores. That evening she played her concert from memory and pulled all her own stops in the process. All the registrations worked magically! What métier!
There were the many occasions when she traveled for concerts and I would go along as assistant, especially during the Haarlem organ academies. Not only did I get a chance to play some incredible organs, but we drank some splendid wine.
When all the faculty were assembled to teach at the 2003 McGill Summer Organ Academy, I realized that half of the fourteen were her former students. I think that even she was a little surprised—at least momentarily—when I announced this at the opening dinner. Has there ever been an organ teacher more admired and loved by her former students than Marie-Claire Alain?
—John Grew
University Organist, Chair of Organ Area, Schulich School of Music,
McGill University
Artistic Director,
McGill Summer Organ Academy

It was in 1961, when I was a 13-year-old organ student, that the Des Moines (Iowa) Chapter of the American Guild of Organists presented Marie-Claire Alain in a concert at University Christian Church on the Walter Holtkamp pipe organ. It was impressive to hear her performing from memory, and captivating to hear Litanies for the first time.
From that moment, I became obsessed with finding all of her recordings. My quest took me to every bookstore and record shop in central Iowa, and unearthed recordings of Couperin, de Grigny, Buxtehude, Pachelbel, Franck, Alain, and Widor; Musical Heritage Society had the good sense to issue her performances of all the works of Bach.
In 1967 during my college years, Mme. Alain performed in St. Louis at the Priory on an instrument with mechanical action. I remember her playing all six of the Bach Schübler Chorales, the third Trio Sonata, the St. Anne Prelude and Fugue, and the Franck Pastorale as well as Messiaen’s Dieu Parmi Nous and both of the Jehan Alain Fantasies. The clarity and vibrancy of her rhythm coupled with her registrations made this concert an unforgettable example of personal expression and music making.
From 1972 to 1986, I taught organ and theory at a small college in Virginia that was fortunate to have a new concert hall housing a Flentrop organ. In 1973, 1978, 1982 and 1985, Marie-Claire Alain came to campus for concerts and masterclasses. It was inspiring and exciting to hear her perform and teach as well as to have the opportunity to solidify a blossoming friendship. As a pedagogue, Mme. Alain has sought out scores and documents that helped bring historical research alive and into the mainstream of today’s teaching.
In 1973, an inquiry about private study took me to Paris for the first of several such sojourns. Her enlightened teaching brought current performance practices to my inner musical ear and new expressive sensitivity to my playing especially in early French music and the music of Bach. Our lessons on her house organ or at her church at St. Germain-en-Laye shall forever remain as highlights of my career.
Since moving to New York City in 1991, it has been a joy to present Mme. Alain in concert at The Church of the Holy Trinity (Episcopal) in four special events. Her New York City appearances have been inspiring. Her preeminence as a musician has been noted in the New York Times referring to her as “the Grande Dame of the organ world” and by the New York City AGO chapter bestowing upon her its “Performer of the Year” accolade. The AGO national council presented her with a lifetime achievement award following her concert at The Church of the Holy Trinity in October 1999. The education committee of the Guild further endorsed Mme. Alain’s prominence as a teacher by filming her masterclasses at Holy Trinity and the University of Kansas for the AGO Master Series.
We all come together to honor Marie-Claire Alain on her 80th birthday as a performer, teacher, scholar and friend, and to celebrate her life, her love of music, and her lasting influence on our profession. —Stephen Hamilton
The Church of the Holy Trinity (Episcopal)
New York City

In the late 1960s, while I was an undergraduate student at St. Olaf College, my teacher, Robert Kendall, arranged for his students to travel to Minneapolis to hear a recital by Marie-Claire Alain. The recital was held in the cavernous sanctuary of Central Lutheran Church, and on that evening every seat was occupied. There was a sense of anticipation as the crowd was waiting for the first sight of the performer, and it was evident that we would be experiencing something exceptional that evening. I remember the thunderous applause when she appeared—a tiny figure facing that huge crowd—and I remember that she performed completely from memory. But even now, over 40 years later, I vividly remember being completely transported by her music making. I had no idea that organ playing could be so beautiful, could communicate so clearly. I wanted to meet her after the recital, but the crowd completely engulfed her, and we students were whisked away back to Northfield. That evening I vowed to meet her someday and thank her for that recital. Little did I know how our lives would intersect. Through the years, I heard her play many times both in North America and in Europe. I not only got to meet her, but to study with her, and she became the dominant musical force in my life. I discovered that not only can she communicate with her playing, but that as a teacher Marie-Claire is without peer. Whenever I feel my busy schedule overwhelming me, I have only to remind myself of Marie-Claire’s prodigious output as a performer, recording artist, teacher, and scholar, and I realize I’m moving in slow motion in comparison. While most of us know Marie-Claire as the recipient of numerous awards and honors, her greatest pride has been her family—both the family that she grew up in and the family that she created. Without the inspiration, love and support of her family, she could not have had the career that has brought her so many accolades. Her home is full of laughter, good food and good wine. My wife Patti and I treasure the evenings that we spent with Marie-Claire and her late husband, Jacques Gommier. I don’t think we have ever laughed more than on those occasions. The close and gregarious relationship that she enjoys with her children and grandchildren is reflected in her music making. Marie-Claire likes good food. She likes to read books; in fact, she learned English in large part by reading novels in English. She loves flowers, especially roses, and has always made room for a big garden in her yard. She finds knitting a good way to relax. She loves to drive—fast!! She has traveled more than anyone I know.
I recently reminisced with Marie-Claire about the first time I heard her play. She was pleased to know that she had achieved the goal she sets each time she performs—to communicate her love of the music. It has been my great fortune to know Marie-Claire—as a teacher, a colleague and a friend. Happy Birthday Marie-Claire!
—James Higdon
Dane and Polly Bales Professor of Organ
The University of Kansas

Some 40 years ago, I took a carload of students from Albion College (Michigan) to hear a little-known organist from Paris perform one of her first concerts in the United States. We were all dazzled by her technique, musical sensitivity, versatility of style, but above all, her ability to communicate with the audience. My friendship with this great artist, Marie-Claire Alain, began when we met and visited after her recital.
As a result of that first encounter I arranged to study with her during the early summer of 1966 at the Alain family home in St. Germain-en-Laye on the now famous “Alain Organ,” and also on the smaller house organ in her home in L’Etang-la-Ville. Later that summer I took her classes at the International Summer Academy for Organists in Haarlem, the Netherlands.
This petite young lady sat on the bench at that huge St. Bavo console, would swing around to face the various student groupings, and instantly switch from French to German to Italian to English. Amazing! She had a command of the music like no one else I had ever known. Always gracious and kind, she gently corrected and coached us with skill and authority.
A particularly memorable experience happened during that Haarlem experience. She announced to the class that she would be playing a recital on the famous Schnitger organ in Zwolle, and since I had a car I volunteered to be her chauffeur. Now if I were preparing a recital—anywhere—I’d arrive at least one day in advance. But arriving mid-afternoon on the day of the recital was apparently plenty of time for her, and that commenced only after we first took time for a beer to quench the thirst after a warm afternoon drive.
She graciously let me spend some time “trying out” the great Schnitger—a real challenge for me since its pitch was one step higher than A=440, and my ears and fingers couldn’t reconcile playing the Bach E-flat Prelude in the key of F. Obviously this was not a problem for her.
We had dinner across the town square, and when the check hadn’t arrived just minutes before the recital was to begin, I remained to settle up while she hurried across the plaza. By the time I arrived she had already begun what was to be a brilliant performance to a packed church. What an ability to concentrate!
After that wonderful summer there were many more occasions to experience our friendship, usually in conjunction with a recital. Many of those times she was a guest in our home, occasionally joined by her husband Jacques Gommier. Being a true friend, she invited us to be their guests in Paris and Maule. Marie-Claire Alain has countless friends in this country and Europe as witness the long receiving lines after every recital. Even though she may be exhausted after a demanding day of teaching and playing, she’s always warm and friendly to all who greet her, and always available for advice and counsel—and a hug.
This remarkable artist has made more friends for the organ than any one other person I know. Happy birthday, dear friend.
—John Obetz
Professor Emeritus
Conservatory of Music
University of Missouri at Kansas City Organist Emeritus, the Community of Christ World Headquarters (formerly RLDS), Independence, Missouri

Study

I first heard Marie-Claire Alain play in Detroit in 1964. The following day, she was on campus at the University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, with Marilyn Mason. Dr. Mason was driving her to Lansing for a masterclass and recital, and I was invited to accompany them. As I observed Mme. Alain’s work with students in the masterclass, I realized that she had not only an enormous wealth of knowledge to share and could immediately analyze what might help the person’s playing, but also was exceptionally kind and down to earth. Right then I began to formulate the idea of studying with her. A few weeks later when she played in Evanston, Illinois, I drove over to hear her. Afterwards I got up the nerve to ask if I might come to study with her.
I went to Paris after completing my master’s degree at Michigan. I was 22 years old, knew little French, yet felt instantly at home. As it turned out, I was her first full-time American student.
On the day of my first lesson, she picked me up at the train station in St. Germain-en-Laye and took me to the family home. In the parlor was a 4-manual organ. My lessons would be on the Alain organ! We got right to work and later that afternoon I went back to Paris with a large list of repertoire to learn. From then on, after lessons I tried to write down everything she said in a notebook as I took the return train. I still have that notebook.
Our lessons were usually two hours in length. As they progressed, I came to understand that pieces needed to be learned in their entirety for the first lesson, and “perfected” by the second. Except for large Bach works, pieces were seldom brought a third time. My repertoire grew by leaps and bounds. She would allow me to play a piece through before making comments. Good work on my part was met with generous praise; criticisms were delivered gently. She got to the important things immediately. Once in a while, for example, she might show me fingerings for a small hand. But her approach to everything was musical first and foremost; technical work came only when necessary to express the music. She was always kind, often funny, and lessons were an absolute joy. (See continuation of this article.)

Introduction

Robert Noehren will celebrate his 91st birthday on the
16th of this month. He has enjoyed an unusual musical career and is perhaps the
only serious organist in history who became an organ builder and skillful
voicer as well. This past year witnessed the release of a remastered CD of his
recordings on the large organ he built for St. John's Cathedral in Milwaukee
(The Robert Noehren Retrospective, Lyrichord LYR-CD-6005) and the book, An
Organist's Reader: Essays (Harmonie Park Press). He was for many years chairman
of the organ department and University Organist at the University of Michigan,
has made more than 40 recordings, authored numerous articles, and built more
than 20 organs throughout the United States.

Once upon a time when I was about seven or eight years old,
my father asked me if I should like to take piano lessons. I can't remember
that I was very happy with the prospect. My play hours after school with
baseball and my bicycle seemed pretty precious to me those days. My father was
a family doctor, and one of his patients was an attractive young lady, I doubt
that she was over 21 years old, who was beginning a career as a piano teacher.
She lived a long way from home, and I had to take a streetcar many miles to her
studio. Well, with much persuasion I began my lessons. After two or three
sessions it became obvious that there wasn't much rapport between my teacher
and me. She was very strict and was determined that from the beginning I would
have to maintain a hand position which was just so. I guess in most
circumstances there is nothing wrong with that, but I felt I was being put in a
strait jacket. We worked together at each hand alone, but all my efforts seemed
to trouble her even when I tried to play a very simple series of notes with one
hand alone. We struggled on, and it seemed like weeks before we tried anything
with two hands together. I had decided by this time that my coordination was
poor, and I felt very clumsy. Piano was not for me. I practiced just as little
as I could get by with. The whole year passed and, so far as my music was
concerned, it was an unhappy one. I constantly fretted about my lessons and
wanted to go back to baseball wholeheartedly.

Late in the spring I was getting off the streetcar on the
way to my lesson when I was struck by an automobile and run over. By some
miracle the wheels of the car missed any part of my body. I stood up almost
immediately and, except for some scratches, seemed to be quite unhurt. I even
continued on to my lesson. Needless to say, my parents were terribly upset when
they heard of the accident, and at this point it was not difficult for me to
persuade them that I should give up music.

The summer passed and a few weeks after school had begun
again, my father gently approached me telling me he had another patient who was
a piano teacher living very close to our home, and would I like to try again? I
must have been in a very receptive mood, for I said, "why not." This
woman was one of two maiden ladies who had a studio together. Each had her own
class of students. The one who was to be my teacher was named Clara Schwarb.
Again I began lessons, but this time it was quite a different story. Miss
Schwarb had a very attractive way with children, and I liked her at once. In
fact, she made a serious effort to interest me in music. I can no longer recall
the details of our lessons, but I do remember that she spent some time at each
lesson telling me about the great composers and assigned me little pieces which
they had written. I began to respond with enthusiasm and after only a few weeks
had passed I was playing rather difficult pieces for a beginner such as
Träumerei of Robert Schumann. Miss Schwarb was not very strict, nor was
she very critical. She did not slap my hand as had the first teacher, and did
not even try to correct wrong notes. And she had such a happy disposition. I
soon looked forward with much pleasure to my lessons and, I believe, by the end
of that year had already made up my mind to become a musician. I remember Miss
Schwarb with affection and owe a great deal of gratitude to her for her
patience and persuasion.

I have never ceased to wonder about talent. Perhaps
sometimes the teacher has more talent than the student. In any event, my
strange introduction to music may give us something to think about and perhaps
another slant at the meaning of talent.

St. John's Episcopal Church, Buffalo

During my early 20s I became organist and choirmaster of St.
John's Episcopal Church in Buffalo, the city where I had been brought up. It
was a lovely church designed by the famous architect, Bertram Goodhue, and
recently built in Tudor gothic style with fine stained glass and a ceiling
richly decorated with polychrome colors. I was there eight years, and spent
three and even four hours at the organ nearly every morning. It was a time when
I learned a great deal of repertoire from Bach to Tournemire.

In those days the church was open every day for prayer and
meditation. Occasionally someone would enter the church, unknown to me. One day
as I came to a concluding cadence, I was interrupted by an old man who came up
to the console and said, "Young man, I have been listening to your music,
and you are in a very strange mood. I see dark colors and something is
depressing you." I was taken aback and a little shocked to hear someone
remark about my mood, especially from a complete stranger, for, as I recall, I
really hadn't been concerned with how I was feeling and surprised that it would
be evident in my organ playing. For a moment I suddenly wondered for what
purposes I had been working all this time. He was a very old man, in his
eighties or nineties with a strong will. From time to time he returned and
would sit in the church listening to me practice and then tell me what he had
heard. Sometimes we would have discussions. He talked as though he were
planning to live forever, but I couldn't imagine why. Well, I was too young and
unsympathetic to appreciate his point of view. I felt sorry for him, for to me
he looked very old and I wondered if he would even live to reach the outside of
the church again.

Ernest Mitchell

A few years earlier, after high school, I had entered the
Institute of Musical Arts in New York (now the Juilliard School). During the
first weeks I explored the city and visited the fabulous Wanamaker store that
in those days had an enormous organ. Later, as I left the store I saw before me
a large and beautiful Gothic church. I entered and at once heard the organ. I
walked quietly forward toward the chancel where I could see an elegantly
dressed man sitting at a very large four-manual console. He was playing Karg-Elert's
Now Thank we all Our God. The organ sounded magnificent, and what I heard and
saw at once impressed me as a model of perfection. The organist was Ernest
Mitchell and the church was Grace Church, and both were to have a profound
influence on me.

Grace Church in those days was an enormously wealthy church.
If you approached the church on a Sunday morning you would see at least a score
of Rolls-Royces and Pierce-Arrows parked along Broadway with their respective
chauffeurs in black suits guarding the cars. When I entered the church the
small congregation, elegantly dressed, in that lovely gothic nave suggested
that here was a chapel just for millionaires. I had the feeling that I was not
supposed to be there and hesitated to remain for the service. Nevertheless, I
remained. The choir was highly paid, and it was my introduction to Mr.
Mitchell's unique boy choir. The soprano section, consisting of 20 boys, had a
most beautiful and unusual tone quality with intonation and phrasing that
seemed faultless. There were also eight men representing some of the finest
voices in town. Donald Dame, the tenor soloist, was also singing with the
Metropolitan Opera. The choir boys lived in a  very well appointed boarding school and rehearsed every day.
It was the finest boy choir I had ever heard, and even now the quality of that
wonderful choir remains in my memory. The organ in the church was enormous. It
was a double organ: the organ in the chancel had 80 stops and was built first
by Hutchins-Votey and then E.M. Skinner; the gallery organ was more recent
having been built again by E.M. Skinner, and it contained 60 stops. There were
five 32¢s in that church!

Mr. Mitchell, who had been a student of Widor in Paris,
played superbly. He was particularly interested in French music and played the
Widor and Vierne symphonies, Roger-Ducasse, Duruflé, and was the first
organist to play Tournemire in this country. He played many of the suites of
Tournemire's famous work, L'Orgue Mystique, and two of his works were dedicated
to Mr. Mitchell. I found it difficult to decide in what he excelled: his
magnificent choir or his wonderful organ playing. Several years later I was to
become his student.

Some 20 or 30 years later on a visit to New York, I again
wandered into Grace Church and discovered Mr. Mitchell practicing again at the
console of a new organ. He was now retired and apparently in his seventies. A
new organist and choirmaster had been engaged, and a new organ had replaced the
old which reflected the incumbent's baroque taste. I was surprised though that

Mr. Mitchell still continued to practice, especially on an
organ which obviously did not suit his tastes. This I could not understand. I
said to myself why doesn't this old man give up and simply enjoy his
retirement. His professional life seemed to me to be at an end, and I couldn't
imagine what in the world he was practicing for.

A different view

Well, here I am at the same gate post, and the scene looks quite
different from my point of view today. Now I realize how I had completely
misunderstood those two old men who had come into my earlier life, and I see
clearly that some of us wish to live forever and carry on the same desires and
ambitions of our youth. In fact, for me the next recital or recording is still
my zenith. The urges for artistic accomplishment are even greater than ever and
are nourished by many years of experience. Of course, at this late date I no
longer look forward or backward except as a point of reference. Now I must live
only for the moment with all its challenges and problems. Nevertheless, I must
confess, there is always the future. This can't last forever. Well, I simply
couldn't understand all this when I was a young man.

Lynnwood Farnam

I have never forgotten those two old men. They are two of
the many influential figures that came into my young life. Lynnwood Farnam was
another and probably the greatest of them all. My ambitions as an organist were
probably linked to the influence Farnam had over me. His approach to organ
playing remains unique in my memory, and he set a standard of quality in
performance that was surely unprecedented and from my perspective today
re-mains unchallenged.

Farnam was unusual; his conception of a musical work was
never confined by the limitations of the organ. He sought to realize all its
musical possibilities in spite of tonal and mechanical
style="mso-spacerun: yes">  limitations. He was of course concerned
about the quality of the instrument he had to play, as are all good performers.
He had immense enthusiasm for the organ; he understood its traditional
qualities and had a strong instinctual feeling for it.

On one occasion I remember hearing him play a Magnificat of
Titelouze and was struck by his handling of the registration and his style of
playing. He seemed to re-create the atmosphere of that period, even though the
organ was hardly appropriate for the purpose. He realized, for instance, that a
great work of Bach must finally sound as if it thoroughly belonged to the organ--it
must, after all, be completely idiomatic. Thus, by combining a rich musical
feeling with a passion for the organ, he succeeded in realizing an unusual
conception of such a work on the average organ, even a mediocre one.

He was, first of all, one of the most accurate of all
keyboardists I have ever heard. I am sure that this was not because he had
great pride in his technical ability. To the contrary, he believed that a wrong
note, no less a poor sound or a weak rhythmic figure,  spoiled the texture of the music and thus distracted from
the total impression. Accuracy was fundamental to his efforts to interpret the
music.  In the end it was this high
quality of Farnam's playing, musically and technically, which set such an
unusual standard for me to follow.

Josef Hofmann

Another of the great influences
of my life was the pianist Josef Hofmann, who was the head of the piano
department and, in fact, dean of the Curtis Institute when I was a student
there. Some say that Hofmann was the greatest pianist of the 20th century. His
chief contender in those days was Sergei Rachmaninoff, but both men were good
friends who seemed to stand in awe of each other. Like Farnam, Hofmann set the
highest possible standard; he was one of the most consistently accurate keyboard
players, and had the most remarkable mechanism of any  pianist I have ever heard. And it is interesting to know
that he was not only a great pianist but also a remarkable mechanical genius.
He had his own machine shop and had acquired several patents for devices he had
invented, including the shock absorber.

Over the years I have studied
Hofmann's technique at the piano; it was based on a system of leverage
involving the upper and lower arms. I came to understand that by using leverage
of the arms, it is possible to develop great skill and power at the piano and
still play with considerable ease. Of course, we organists do not need this
kind of power unless we are playing a large tracker organ with manuals coupled.
With this kind of technique the hands and fingers do not strike the keys. The
feeling is more like a pushing away from the keyboard.

Hofmann did little practice, and
I can understand why it is said that his technique required no maintenance. He
did most of his work mentally away from the piano. He could learn a big work
simply by studying the score, bring it to the instrument, and then play it at
once in a finished form. In the use of his technical system he developed a
unique touch with a tremendous control of dynamics. He not only played all the
right notes, but seemed to play the right notes better than other pianists. You
have to hear his playing to believe it.

Hofmann had one of the most
remarkable ears in musical history. One day when he was still a boy, he heard a
tuning fork supposed to be A-440 at the Metropolitan  Opera and said it was a shade sharp--and it was. With his
remarkable ear he could play back music correctly without ever having seen the
score. Not a week passes that I am not listening to one of the many Hofmann
recordings in my collection.

The Rev. Walter Lord

My early years of professional
life in Buffalo as organist at St. John's Church were memorable ones. The
Rector of the church, Walter Russell Lord, was a sympathetic influence in my
career. He was a personality of unusual culture with far reaching interests in
literature, the arts and music. His wife was a fine  painter who had exhibited at the famous Armory Show of 1913
in New York. They travelled constantly in England, France and Italy. Dr. Lord
and I sometimes had differences of opinion about the hymns and anthems, but he
nevertheless was a great inspiration to me, and my interest in painting and
gothic architecture began at this time.

Walter Holtkamp

Soon after I began my career at
St. John's Church in Buffalo, I became aware of an unusual organ builder in
Cleveland, Walter Holtkamp, the father of Walter Holtkamp, Jr., and grandfather
of Chris Holtkamp, who is now successfully running that company today. Walter
Holtkamp was apparently forging an unusual and even daring path which would
have a profound effect on the future of organ building in America, and I soon
became excited with what he was trying to do. I started going back and forth
between Buffalo and Cleveland to play and study his instruments. Early in the 1930s
he even had invited me to take part in a recital and reception in his shop
where he had set up one of his instruments. Holtkamp was aware of the new
movement in German organ building; he had also been reading and studying the
writings of Albert Schweitzer and had been corresponding with him. He had seen
how the modern American organ had lost almost all vestiges of its traditions.
His first interest, I believe,  was
to restructure its casework, so its speaking pipes could be brought forward
into the room and placed in an open position where they could be heard by the
listener just as all other musical instruments. He was the first builder in
this country to introduce the Rückpositiv, a division typical of North
German organ building, and his first example was installed in the original
organ built for the Cleveland Museum of Art. Holtkamp became another strong
influence in my life, and much of my feeling for the organ today goes back to
my experiences with Holtkamp.

Paul Hindemith

Toward the end of my tenure in
Buffalo it came as quite a surprise to hear that the composer, Paul Hindemith,
had been engaged to teach at the University of Buffalo, and there was a lot of
excitement in town in musical circles. My wife and I had been married for only
a year and lived in a small apartment just two blocks from the hotel where
Hindemith lived. Unfortunately, Hindemith only remained in Buffalo for several
months, mainly the spring of 1941, before he accepted a position at Yale
University. But during those 
months we saw a great deal of him. I became a student in a small class
for composition. Hindemith was very generous with his time. For a man with all
his accomplishments he had a very easy going manner and behaved as if he were
lazy and lonely. It seems he never turned down a request for his help or a
social invitation.

It so happens that I had
prepared my choir at that time for a concert which was to be held by
coincidence shortly after Hindemith's arrival. At the second or third meeting
of our class he called me aside and said that he had heard I was giving a
concert with my choir. He then added that he rarely attended concerts but that
he would like to attend the final rehearsal. What could I say?! A final
rehearsal is difficult enough under normal conditions, but for the great
Hindemith to attend my modest efforts with a volunteer choir put me in a trying
circumstance, to say the least. Well, of course he came.

The program was to open with a
short Buxtehude cantata with strings, and this was my only rehearsal with the
strings. It was the first work on the agenda, because I only needed the strings
for that one work. Here I was having to handle my choir in an already difficult
situation and then contend with the presence of one of the foremost musicians
of the day and one, moreover, who only a few weeks earlier had provoked
considerable attention by standing up against Hitler and the Nazis. You can
imagine how I felt!

Nevertheless, the rehearsal
began with the short introduction of the Buxtehude cantata which involved the
strings. We hadn't played more than eight bars when Hindemith interrupted the
rehearsal telling us he wasn't satisfied with the sound of a certain ornament.
Of course, ornaments are controversial, and it was well-known that Hindemith
had a strong interest in early music.

Moreover, it should be
remembered  that Hindemith was a
conductor who later in his life toured with and conducted many of the major
orchestras in Europe and America. He also had a special talent for playing instruments
and could play virtually all the instruments of the orchestra. He was a
virtuoso on the violin and viola.

He asked to see the score and
then suggested we begin again. After we had passed the point in question I
stopped and waited for Hindemith's appraisal. He was silent for a moment or so
and then admitted that what we had first played was, after all, the best
solution. The fact that he had nothing to offer relieved some of the tension
and made me feel somewhat more comfortable. The rehearsal proceeded and there
were no  more serious problems.

Incidentally, I had grown up
with the impression that such great men try to remain obscure in their private
lives and, in any event, do not waste a whole evening on small-town organists
and volunteer choirs. I wondered how he could afford the time for such
excursions! If he was looking for entertainment, I should think a movie might
have been more appropriate than to contribute to the nervous breakdown of a
young man still in his twenties. Nevertheless, I lived through that rehearsal and
at least had the comfort to know that he would not attend the concert.

Nevertheless, Hindemith was very
helpful to me during those months, and we also had many good times together. He
was a fascinating person. He had a dozen hobbies--gardening, model railroads,
timetables, maps, walking, etc.--in addition to his comprehensive activities in
music. He walked five miles every day, and by the time he had been with us for
two weeks, he knew Buffalo far more thoroughly than I who had
style="mso-spacerun: yes">  been born and brought up there. He
always seemed to take his time, and it is still a mystery to me how such a man
accomplished what he did and yet appeared to give one the impression he was
lazy. In fact, one day when asked about his well-being he said, "I have
just been walking around feeling stupid."

Eventually I had a lesson on how
Hindemith handles his time. One day my wife and I happened to have lunch in the
dining room of his hotel. We saw him there alone reading his book on Kepler in
preparation for an opera he was planning as he was having his lunch. We
returned home and about three o'clock received a phone call from Hindemith
announcing to us that he had just completed the score of the slow movement for
a new organ sonata. He asked if he might come over to the apartment so that we
might try it out on the piano. Of course, and we played it. I was much
impressed. He told us he had written it in 20 minutes, and, in fact, the score
was beautifully written all ready for the publisher. He wrote the first
movement the following morning and the final movement that afternoon. I
surmised that these pieces had probably been swirling around in his head during
those long daily walks and by the time he sat down at his desk, there was
little more to do than write out the scores. This then was the story of the
Third Sonata for organ. But there is still an interesting sequel to that story.

Hindemith knew that I owned a
recording machine. It was, of course, before the day of tape decks and the
proliferation of amateur recording. One had to go to some trouble to own a
recording machine of any kind those days, and my machine was a complicated
affair; the recording was made by actually cutting a disc with a needle. If it
went bad during a session, it was not so simple to try again, for it was fairly
expensive to begin again with a new disc. In any event, when Hindemith brought
me the final score he suggested we make a recording of it. I was pleased with
the idea, of course, and I agreed to do so. He asked me when we should set up a
date, for he wanted to be on hand. I looked at the sonata rather superficially
and thought to myself that learning this piece is going to require some hard
work. I brought out my little book and suggested a date about two weeks off. At
that, Hindemith exclaimed,"What! Are you going to go into hibernation and
sleep with this piece? Come on, let's do it the day after tomorrow!" Well,
I was flabbergasted, to say the least. I had never in my life tried to learn a
piece of such difficulty in so short a time, but it seemed that I had no
choice. My pride was such that I could not muster the nerve to disagree with
him. Somehow I managed to learn that sonata and make the recording according to
Hindemith's wishes. I never forgot that experience, and it taught me a lot
about how to practice. It also told me something about the handling of time and
why Hindemith was able to squeeze so much from his life.

Squire Haskin

Among my friends was a very
unusual man named Squire Haskin, who came to Buffalo as the director of music
at the First Presbyterian Church two or three years after I had become
choirmaster at St. John's Church. It didn't take me long to realize that Squire
was a musician of formidable talent, who, if I was going to react normally,
could give me some real competition. Squire had recently graduated from the
Eastman School of Music where he had been the first student in the history of
the school to do a double major, in organ and piano. In fact, for graduation he
had played both an organ recital and a piano recital from memory during the
same week. Soon after he arrived in Buffalo he played a very fine recital at
his church which included the Duruflé Toccata, the Bach Passacaglia and
a Franck Chorale all learned and memorized within a week's time.

I soon discovered that Squire
was also an amazing sight-reader; at the piano he could read at once a piece as
difficult as a Chopin Étude and, with one or two more readings, have it
memorized. Because of his musicianship and sight-reading ability he was soon in
demand as an accompanist for singers and instrumentalists around town. He was
often called back to Rochester to fill in as a last minute substitute at the
Eastman School. On such occasions, he could learn and play a Hindemith,
Bartók or Schoenberg work in a morning rehearsal with a violinist for
performance the same evening.

I didn't begin to have this kind
of talent, a formidable one, to say the least. However, I soon became aware
that Squire did not have the ambition nor did he espouse a career the equal of
his talents as pianist, organist or accompanist. Life had too many other
interests for him to settle down and concentrate on an artistic career. He was
content with his position as director of music of a large city church, and he
remained there for the rest of his life.

Over the years, as organist, he
played in recital or as voluntaries at the church services the complete works
of Bach, Franck, Vierne and Widor, and many of the works of Messiaen and
Langlais. He knew and played the piano literature as well. His quick
style="mso-spacerun: yes">  mind took to languages and he spoke
French fluently and at least some Italian. His interests embraced an extensive
awareness of painting and architecture, and he was an avid reader as well.

Squire, by his example, taught
me the art of living. He was a real gentleman and seemed to me to be a modern
example of the Renaissance man. He surrounded himself with fine books,
paintings and many other beautiful things. He listened to music and attended
concerts and galleries, intimately knowing the paintings of Buffalo's Albright
Art Gallery and many other galleries around the country.

But Squire essentially was a
modest person, not ambitious, and was never simply trying to extend his
knowledge to show off his ability. What he knew and loved was there only
because of his interest in such things. This made a strong impression on me. He
could be tough on occasion when necessary, but he never developed the arrogance
of so many college professors. He became an important influence in my life, and
we became life-long friends.

Years later I built him a large
new organ of 80 ranks for First Presbyterian Church. It brought us both a lot
of pleasure. In many ways, his life was too good to be true, and sadly he was
murdered in his own home by a thief on the eve of a celebration for 50 years of
service at the church. I had come to Buffalo to join in the celebration. It was
one of the saddest and most frustrating moments of my life, and I am still
haunted by that unfortunate occasion.

Teaching

I chose to be an organist by the
time I was 21 years old, and have been practicing and playing ever since.
During the 12-year period when I was teaching full time at the University of
Michigan, I played many recitals, including the complete organ works of Bach. I
don't remember how I did it, for my responsibilities in running the organ
department, teaching, committee meetings and the many interruptions of such a
schedule limited the hours I had for practice. Then, at the height of this
career I began organ building and a few years later gave up teaching. I had
liked teaching and I especially enjoyed the students, but I was somewhat
demanding and I am sure some of them did not entertain such an impression. But
I found teaching the most difficult work of all. To listen every day to the
great organ works played by someone who is just beginning his career, often
played well and sometimes very well, yet never quite the way one conceives
them, is not easy. Very few students at that age have reached a level with what
I call an artistic attitude, and it is very tiring to listen every day to such
playing. I doubt that the students ever stopped to think of how I felt about my
playing. After all, I was never satisfied with my own efforts. In fact, I was
so critical of myself that I didn't dare play for them seriously at lessons
when I should have. I finally had to perform at recitals, of course, and then I
tried to do the best I could. I was not one blessed with too much talent.
Technical skill did not come easily for me. I had to work, and learn to teach
myself.

Rhythm and nuance

In the performance of any
musical instrument rhythmic nuance is an indispensible means for musical
expression. The organ is the most mechanical of all musical instruments and it
tends to discourage nuance. Yet, nuance is the lifeblood of musical expression;
it is the means for making subtle distinctions with dynamics and rhythm.
Traditionally the organ has a very limited means for expression; dynamics
cannot be affected directly at the keyboard. With the invention of the swell
box, it at least became possible to control the dynamic level of one or a group
of stops by opening or closing such an enclosure by means of shutters. It is
easy enough to learn to play in a simple, equally spaced order of beats and
measures but the very nature of the organ with its rigid and uncompromising
sound seems to inhibit a serious attempt in the handling of nuance.
Nevertheless, with effort it is possible.

We organists have developed a
mode of playing which stresses one dynamic at a time and a simple approach to
rhythm by playing too much in strict time. Of course, on a baroque organ we can
have only one dynamic at a time, and thus we have found it easy to believe in a
tradition of playing concerto movements and preludes and fugues from beginning
to end with but one registration and, of course, only one dynamic, more or less
in strict time. But I am not sure that this is a kind of playing typical of
good organ playing in earlier times. Moreover, I find many people who really
enjoy music have learned to stay away from organ recitals.

With practice, I find that even
playing the simplest kind of organ, even one with tracker action built in an
old style, it is possible to become involved with a much more subtle kind of
rhythm by practicing a touch inspired by imagination for dynamic variation.
Although they cannot be altered, just the attempt to feel where dynamics occur
with the touch will affect and alter the rhythm and even suggest a variation of
dynamics. This is the kind of playing typical of a sensitive pianist. However,
because of his instrument he is able to affect both dynamics and the rhythm at
the same time. The two go together in a very natural way. Nevertheless, we
organists should be able to develop a touch which approaches this kind of
playing and which will produce subtle nuances of rhythm which in turn suggest
variation of dynamics.

I have read very much from the
18th century which suggests that performers then were far more sensitive to the
expressive quality and touch of their instruments than we now believe. For
instance, J.J. Quantz, a friend of Bach, wrote:

Good execution must be varied.
Light and shadow must be constantly maintained. No listener will be
particularly moved by someone who plays in the same colour. Thus, a continuous
alternation of forte and piano must be observed. The alternation of piano and
forte heightens some notes at one time, at another arouses tenderness.

Of course, Quantz is mainly
speaking of playing the flute or the violin, not the organ. However, I have
tried in vain to find information from that time which suggests that organists
should play in a special style which is expressionless. Organists in our time
have too easily come to the conclusion, for instance, that even registration in
its simplest use should never be changed in the performance of a prelude and
fugue. To the contrary, I am persuaded that Quantz is quite right when he says
that no listener will be pleased by someone who plays without change of color
or dynamics, and that intrigues me far more than blindly following a tradition
which offers so little and is obviously questionable. I could quote many more
passages which confirm the statement of Quantz, but I shall include one more
which suggests that some players apparently played as expressively as we do
today. This passage describes the playing of one of the foremost players of the
viola da gamba during the 17th century, Nicolas Hotman, and is found in a study
book written by Jean Rousseau in 1687:

One admired him often more when
he played tenderly some simple little song than in the most learned and
complicated pieces. The tenderness of his playing comes from those beautiful
bowings which he animated, and softened so cleverly and properly that he
charmed all those who heard him.

I go back to the 18th century
because, as organists, we play an instrument which was favored by the great
J.S. Bach, and whose organ music is the cornerstone of our whole repertoire.
The music of Bach is wonderful, and I am convinced it should be played far more
expressively that it is. None of us really knows how Bach played, and I don't
understand why we should be so determined to make his music fit all the rules
of a vague tradition probably created after Bach was gone and, in any event, so
little understood in our time. Dom Bedos, who authored a famous work on organ
building during the 18th century, wrote:

There is a manner of conceiving
music entirely different from the one taught in all the treatises upon this
art: it is founded upon the execution itself.

I agree with this. It suggests
that there is an obligation for me to study the score itself, explore it, and
using my intuition, find for myself the best possible way to make it sound.

Organ design

Finally, we need good organs to
perform expressively. The organ is a very complicated instrument, and this may
in part account for our inability as organists and organ builders to reach the
high musical standards of the pianist or the violinist. In truth, the
expressive possibilities of the organ are much greater than we seem to believe
they are.

A good pianist sits down at a
fine Steinway piano and is able to perform a Chopin Ballade or a delicate
Debussy Prelude with ease and conviction. Both the player and the instrument
are sensitive to musical and instrumental problems and understand together the
function of their instrument.

Now, I do not find this kind of
rapport true of the organ. I am rarely convinced that the player and the organ
builder are even talking to each other. Consider how organs are designed. The
procedure, it seems, tends to be haphazard. For instance, the organist will
provide a list of stops, but the builder rarely understands the musical
implications of what that list means in terms of registration. The builder
then, on his own, inadvertently proceeds to design the instrument from his
point of view and with far different motives than the organist. Both know too
little about each other's art.

I am appalled that so few
organists have more than a superficial understanding of their instrument, its
design, tone and action. The voicing of organ pipes still remains somewhat of a
mystery to organists and even some organ builders. There are apparently few
organists too who really revel in the tonal colors of their instrument.
Exploring and exploiting the various sounds of an organ requires at least a
little skill in improvisation and can be a source of inspiration.

Look again at the piano; its
casework is always the same and simply constructed to contain the elements
which produce its tone. Organ cases also are constructed to contain the
pipework and mechanism of the organ, but the organ builder is too often more
concerned for the appearance of the organ and its casework than its tone
quality. Walter Holtkamp back in the 1930s, 40s and 50s was a builder who came
the closest to such an ideal. He insisted on building a organ which first could
be placed properly within the room and then designed his cases to expose the
pipework, allowing the sound to be projected directly to the listener. Today,
it is the fashion to build cases in the style of the 17th and 18th centuries.
Much of this kind of casework is redundant, burdened with heavy woodwork, and
unnecessarily expensive.

It is also the responsibility of
the organist as well as the builder to give more serious thought to the
wind-chest and action to provide a sensitive and responsible touch for the
player, and one which will encourage nuance. The voicing of the pipes and the
construction of the action are closely related to each other. The finest
voicing favors pipes which speak promptly. The design of the chest and its
valves must be sympathetic to this kind of voicing. The voicing and the speed
and precision of the valve must work together. The valves in various types of
windchests are often too fast or too slow for the voicing, but with modern
technology it is now possible to design and adjust the opening and closing of
the valve to suit the voicing of the pipe. There is an urgent need for
discussion of this kind among organists, for it is only the organist with some
knowledge of voicing and the playing mechanism who can really understand the
kind of responsiveness he desires and translate his desires to the organ
builder. And it is he who should be responsible for the whole organization of
the instrument, one which is carefully designed to create an organ for the
finest kind of performance. The organist and the organ builder have common
interests and need to become involved more closely with each other.

The function of musical
performance is to play music for the enjoyment of music. That's the purpose of
a symphony concert, a piano recital, a performance of lieder or an organ
recital. Simply said, that is our goal. But all of these means of performance
can only be judged by the fine art of listening to music. If we go to an organ
recital simply to find out if one of our colleagues is using correct tempos or
is playing a chorale prelude in a proper style, both we and our recitalist
colleague really belong back in the classroom. Fortunately, we still enjoy a
musical culture in which there are magnificent symphony orchestras, wonderful
string quartets, pianists, violinists and, of course, some organists, where the
goal of musical performance, plain and simple, is to make beautiful music for
the listener.

During these last years I have discovered
more than ever the great joy of listening to music. It's a gold mine. I try to
set aside an hour or so each day just to listen to music. I try not to let
myself be distracted by reading or conversation. I just try to remain quiet and
relaxed without making any undue effort to concentrate, for in my life
listening to music is one of its greatest joys.

Boston, Massachusetts

Wednesday, August 16

Imagine this. A church packed to the rafters with organists
from around the country, parishioners, and Boston organ lovers. An organ in a
stunning case fills the west gallery of the church. The chairs that fill the
nave have all been turned around so the audience can sit and gaze up into the
balcony. A priest steps forward to the railing and says simply, "Good
evening. I'm Fr. Thomas Carroll, rector of this church," followed by what
can only be described as tumultuous applause, shouting, and a standing ovation!
Do this on a regular basis, and seminaries will be overflowing with candidates
for the priesthood--but of course there is a special tale to tell about this
visceral reaction, and Fr. Tom Carroll, organist and OHS member, is the
deserving symbol of a happy ending to an almost sad story. It was in 1986 that
organists and OHS members learned from the organ journals, and later from
mainstream media, that this struggling parish was preparing to make serious
changes to its church. The interior of the building would be sufficiently
reduced in size (to make way for rentable office space) that its landmark
instrument would be rendered unusable. The nave would be vastly forshortened,
leaving a small "worship center." The great space would nevermore be
seen--the great organ would never sound into its intended space again. The OHS,
and later, architectural conservation and preservation groups in the city,
managed to convince the church to reverse its plans. Three ultimately removable
office structures were indeed built in the side aisles of the west end of the
nave, but the word is that plans are afoot to remove them soon. What is left is
by no means shabby. It's a glorious place. In other good news, this parish is
now growing and thriving, with many new members to enjoy the beautiful
architectural and musical treasures left to it by earlier generations.

In part, the OHS exists to honor, protect, and present great
instruments, so perhaps it is at the Church of the Im-maculate Conception that
we see this function at its best. It is therefore fitting that the convention
began and ended with concerts on E. & G.G. Hook Opus 322 (1863) / E. &
G.G. Hook & Hastings Opus 1959 (1902), played by two great musicians who
have supported the work of the Society and been heard in many conventions over
the years. Peter Sykes began the week, which ended with Thomas Murray.

When the pandemonium settled, Fr. Carroll offered a warm
welcome, after which Jonathan Ambrosino, president of the Society (and also
editor of this year's Organ Handbook and Convention Program), officially opened
the convention and introduced Scot Huntington, this year's convention chairman.
Peter Sykes then assumed the bench, accompanied by his registrants, Michael
Murray on the right and Stuart Forster on the left.

A lovely feature of OHS convention recitals/organ
demonstrations is the inclusion of a hymn in every program. It makes perfect
sense to hear instruments doing one of the jobs for which they were designed.
Sykes's chosen tune was Helmsley to the Advent text "Lo, He comes with
clouds descending"--what a fabulous big, rich, unison sound we made in a
splendid acoustic, to a rich, varied, and totally supportive accompaniment.

The first work on the program was Mendelssohn, Prelude and
Fugue in C Minor, op. 37, no. 1. The combination of Peter Sykes, Felix
Mendelssohn, the great Hook and Hook & Hastings, and the acoustic of
"The Immaculate," conspired for a most satisfying experience. From
Annés de Pélerinage of Liszt, we heard two Sykes transcriptions,
Ave Maria von Arcadelt (which demonstrated some of the lovely sounds of this
instrument), and Sposalizio (betrothal), based on a painting of Raphael. Next,
Six Fugues on B-A-C-H, by Robert Schumann. Played together, these works become
something of a satisfying larger sonata. After intermission, Grand
Prélude (from a set of eleven dedicated to Franck) by Charles-Valentin
Alkan, and Franck's Grande Pièce Symphonique (dedicated to Charles
Alkan). Peter Sykes played this spacious and wonderful work with both breadth
and fire.

Thursday, August 17

A marathon day

The day began with a lecture, "Time, Taste, and the
Organ Case," tailored here by Matthew Bellocchio to include some of the
famous Boston organs heard at the convention.

Then on to the bus at about 10:15 to thread our way through
New York-style traffic to Most Holy Redeemer Church, East Boston. Well worth
it! Occasionally at OHS conventions, the program book says "Program to be
announced." This is never the result of indecision, disorganization, or
laziness. It's a signal that at any given moment, up to and including the first
notes of the recital, there is doubt about what will and what will not play on
the organ! In pretty bad shape, this instrument is, nonetheless, worth the
pilgrimage. Not only is it the largest remaining instrument by William Simmons
(1823-1876), but it is also the "oldest extant two-manual organ with a
detached, reversed console," quoting from the Organ Handbook. Kevin Birch
teaches at the University of Maine School of Performing Arts in Orono, and is director
of music at St. John Roman Catholic Church in Bangor, where he has developed an
important musical program, including the preservation of the church's 1860 E.
& G.G. Hook organ. For the convention, he developed a completely satisfying
program which demonstrated the capabilities of the instrument in its present
condition. The instrument is so dusty and dirty that it has not been possible
to tune it completely for a long time, so avoidance of upperwork was the order
of the day. There was lots of foundation tone, and excellent stuff it is, too.
He began with a fine performance of the Bach Pastorale, the perfect piece for
the circumstances, showing a few small but distinguished combinations of
sounds. All of the combinations were announced before he began the work. Next,
three beautiful organ pieces by Samuel Coleridge-Taylor, Arietta, Elegy, and
Melody, all from 1898. Birch found the perfect solution to the problems of the
organ's state of health by calling on a 'cellist friend, Jonathan Cortolano, to
play the melody lines, requiring that the meager functioning voices of the
organ play only accompaniment for the most part. With a really beautiful 'cello
tone, this enterprise was a great success. 

Birch had promised to demonstrate some of the notes of the
Oboe that were working, and did so charmingly with a bit of Jesu Bambino by
Pietro Yon. After this, an early 18th-century tune (Sweet Sacrament) found in
Worship III to the text "Jesus, my Lord, my God, my All." We had a
great sing, and took full advantage of a very nice harmonization. This is the
organ upon which, in 1975, Thomas Murray recorded the Mendelssohn sonatas,
recently reissued on CD. It is only through many volunteer hours by Richard
Lahaise that we were able to hear any of this marvellous but sadly neglected
instrument.

Next, on to Most Precious Blood Roman Catholic Church in
Hyde Park, to hear Stephen Roberts on the 1892 Carlton Michell instrument, much
of which was probably built by Hunter in London, and which was originally in
St. Stephen's Church in the South End of Boston. Originally tubular pneumatic,
it was electrified by Richard Lahaise when moved to Precious Blood in 1956 and
fitted with a new console. Franz Schmidt, Toccata for Organ (1924); the hymn
Ave Verum Corpus to a 14th-century plainsong tune; Everett Titcomb, Communion
Meditation on "Ave Verum Corpus." It was helpful to have sung the
entire plainsong melody before hearing Titcomb's work based upon it. The
program ended with the brilliant and brilliantly-played Allegro Vivace from the
Widor 5th Symphony.

Then, on to Christ Church Unity (Sears Chapel) in Brookline
for a fine recital by Andrew Scanlon, winner of the 1999 Boston Chapter AGO
Competition for Young Organists, and a student of Ann Labounsky at Duquesne. He
also has studied with John Walker, John Skelton, and David Craighead. Currently
organist and choir director at Emmanuel Lutheran Church in Export,
Pennsylvania, he was one of the six young organists chosen to play at the New
York National in 1996. This Sears Chapel has a rather handsome exterior and a
somewhat disappointing interior. The organ is chambered in the west gallery,
with an attractive facade with stenciled pipes, but is a smallish gem (nineteen
stops) being asked to speak down a rather long carpeted nave filled with
thickly cushioned pews. It is all a bit distant, sadly, but the instrument, E.
& G.G. Hook from 1862, is intact and well cared for, and was presented on
this occasion with the handsome OHS plaque. Bach, Prelude and Fugue in C Major
(545); Mendelssohn, Second Sonata: Grave and Adagio; Trumpet Dialogue from the
Couperin Convent Mass; Allein Gott by Dudley Buck; a Rondeau and Deo Gracias by
Joseph Wilcox Jenkins (b. 1928), lovely, modal, spirited stuff, perhaps
somewhat in the Hindemith mode.

The afternoon ended with two rather amazing events. At the
United Parish in Brookline we were all impressed by Peter Krasinski and
Aeolian-Skinner opus 885 and much more. First, we were welcomed in a recording
by Ernest Skinner himself, apparently from a welcoming speech he made to an AGO
gathering at some point very late in his life. It was loud and clear, and a
stunning opening, with no warning whatsoever! But there was more. After singing
"O God our help" from the hymnal in the pews, there was a program of
two works--not your usual organ recital. First, Peter and the Wolf, transcribed
by Peter Krasinski, narrated by a woman from the church's Board of Deacons who
had earlier graciously received an OHS Plaque for the organ. This was clearly a
new translation from the Russian, beginning more-or-less thusly: "Peter
lifted the heavy rolltop, and threw the switch, activating the great Spencer
blower." And then we had Peter being hustled inside, to escape the evil
Clarinet. And then, with Peter, we cowered in the face of "Evil hunters,
seeking unaltered Skinner organs!" It was all so perfectly done--the
narration was really dramatically delivered, and Peter Krasinski--what to say?
The transcription, the performance, the organ--it was nothing less than
fabulous--requiring a chapter of its own in any history ever written about OHS
Conventions We Have Known. For a bit more icing on an already rich cake, Peter
Krasinski's own transcription of von Suppé's Poet and Peasant Overture.

At the end of the afternoon, the astonishing, amazing--whatever--computer-driven
Boston University Symphonic Organ, hosted by its creator, Nelson Barden. The
whole thing had its genesis in a small Skinner (opus 764) instrument in a
Rockefeller mansion in Greenwich, Connecticut. When the organ was disposed of,
it was to become one of the organic wonders of the world. Further donations of
house and other organs kept the thing growing to its present size, and it now
lives in its permanent home on a great balcony overlooking a large kind of
banqueting hall. On screen, one can see what the computer operator sees on his
monitor up in the balcony: the four keyboards plus a short one for the
pedalboard laid out, surrounded by lists of all the stops available--colored
lights indicate which keys and which stops are playing. We heard a performance,
electronically recorded, of Carlo Curley playing Fiddle Faddle, Edwin Lemare
playing the Bach "Jig" Fugue, and lots of other goodies. An exciting
aspect of this is the ability to reproduce here the many performances committed
to paper rolls in Germany in the 20s and 30s, at a time when sound recording
was not yet totally viable on location, and, of course, the immense resources
of this instrument make possible just about any registrational requirement.
After the great show, most of our large party took advantage of being able to
walk right through this marvel, to see, under glass, the whole thing operating.

After dinner, off to The Mission Church to hear Julian
Wachner on Hutchings Opus 410 of 1897, sounding out of its great west gallery
case into a superb acoustical space. Bach, Pièce d'Orgue; Mendelssohn,
Prelude and Fugue in C Minor; Cantabile from Widor 6th, played on a gorgeous
Oboe; Duruflé Prelude and Fugue on ALAIN. After intermission, we were
driven hastily back to our seats by a fabulous improvised fanfare, using the
splendid, if un-Englishy, Tuba; then the Boston premiere of Les Trés
Riches Heures (An Organ Book of Hours) by Marjorie Merryman--the six movements
are entitled 1. Procession, 2. Dialogues, 3. Cycle of the Year, 4. Rebellion,
5. De Profundis, and 6. Celebrations. The evening ended with "Holy Holy
Holy" to, of course, Nicaea. After the hymn Wachner went into a pretty
wild improvisation on Nicaea.

Friday, August 18

Promenade day

Friday began with a lecture by Barbara Owen on "The
Hook Years," not an overstatement when you realize what an enormous number
of instruments that workshop turned out each year in the mid-1800s. Then the
convention traveled to Hook Country, Jamaica Plain, and the lovely yellow home
of Elias Hook. We were split into three groups at this time, so that no church
was overly crowded--this meaning, of course, that each performer had to play
three times. My group began not with a Hook, but with Central Congregational
Church's Aeolian-Skinner opus 946 of 1936, a versatile and effective 14-stop
instrument. It can do anything asked of it and today, it met just the right
player to direct it. Possibly, this organ should not really function as it
does--after all, it is stuffed into a chamber on the north side of the
chancel--but the room is welcoming, and aided by 5≤ of wind pressure and
scaling and voicing to match, it reaches every corner of the room. This should
not suggest to anyone that it is loud--it simply projects very well in all directions.
The organ is entirely enclosed in one swell box. The program by Mark Dwyer: the
chorale Freu dich sehr; Pachelbel, Partitia on "Freu dich sehr";
Sowerby, Arioso; Bach, Trio on "Herr Jesu Christ, dich zu uns wend";
Darke, Fantasy, op. 39; Dupré, Placare Christe servulis. The splendid
playing of Mark Dwyer is no surprise to those who have heard him play. This
organ, on the other hand, was a total surprise: fourteen stops, and look at the
program it played, and all beautifully and essentially authentically!

We walked through pleasant streets with lovely Victorian
houses all around, to First Baptist Church, with its essentially unaltered 1859
Hook, for a concert by Lois Regestein: Hanff, Wär' Gott nicht mit uns
diese Zeit, using a registration which Hook had set as the plenum, just through
2' on the Great, without the mixture; Pinkham, Pastorale on "The Morning
Star"; three Haydn Musical Clock pieces, Minuet, March, and Andantino,
revealing the absolutely beautiful flutes on this organ; Respighi, Prelude on a
chorale of Bach; Ciampa, Agnus Dei (with singer Dianna Daly); Telemann, Trumpet
Tune in D; Brahms, Prelude in G Minor; and a rousing performance of the hymn
"Praise, my soul, the King of Heaven."

Another pleasant walk led to First Parish, Unitarian, for a
program by Gregory Crowell, director of music at Trinity UMC in Grand Rapids
and on the faculty at Grand Valley State University. The organ is E. & G.G.
Hook Opus 171 of 1854. In 1860 Hook added the Choir organ, which was apparently
prepared for in 1854. The program began with the hymn "Spirit of God,
descend upon my heart" to the tune Morecambe, and included the Mendelssohn
Fourth Sonata.

The last venue in Jamaica Plain was St. Thomas Aquinas
Church. Scot Huntington managed to give lots of his time to trying to get this
glorious 1854 Hook (moved to this church in 1898 and somewhat rebuilt by George
Hutchings) playing--it had not been heard in 20 years! This is a major part of
the OHS Convention History--the hours or weeks of time freely given by OHS member
builders to making ill instruments well enough to be heard at conventions. The
organ was permitted to remain there (west gallery) only because it looked so
nice. (It is indeed an unusually attractive case.) The new pastor welcomed the
OHS in a really fine speech that made it clear where his sympathies lie, and he
was roundly cheered. No doubt with his encouragement many parishioners were in
attendance, some of whom had ventured into the balcony for the first time to
see what the organ really looked like. Scot Huntington demonstrated the organ,
an-nouncing registrations as he went along, and even doing a creditable
performance of the "St. Anne Prelude." He then accompanied the hymn
"O worship the King" (Hanover), and many of the attending
parishioners were overwhelmed. The building is not without resonance, and to
hear 400+ musicians filling that room was impressive.

George Bozeman is always a major presence at OHS
conventions, this sometimes taking the form of an organ he has carefully
restored, but most often in the form of an interesting and somewhat unusual
recital. Here, he fulfilled both roles, playing on an 1860 E. & G.G. Hook
(Opus 283) of 32 stops (rebuilt in 1913), which in 1992 had "tonal
re-instatements and recreations; refurbishment and restoration" at the
hands of George Bozeman--at First Congregational Church in Woburn. The program:
Bach, Prelude & Fugue in G Minor (535); C.P.E. Bach, Sonata in A; the hymn,
"Eternal Spirit of the living Christ," to a strong, unnamed, tune by F.
William Voetberg; Franck, Choral in B Minor; four exquisitely registered and
played chorale preludes of Brahms: Herzlich tut mich erfreuen, Schmücke
dich, O wie selig, and Herzlich tut mich verlangen; three selections from the
Bartok Mikrokosmos; and finally Concert Sonata No. 5 in C by Eugene Thayer.

An OHS Boston Weekend

After a fairly energetic and busy Friday, the prospect of a
somewhat more relaxed convention weekend seemed a good one. Saturday began with
Jonathan Ambrosino's lecture entitled "Ernest M. Skinner & G. Donald
Harrison, Retrospective and Review." Ambrosino is president of the
Society, bringing a distinguished background in both communications and
organbuilding, and he is making his strengths very much felt throughout the
organization.

The first concert of the day was by Richard Hill at First
Parish in Arlington, one of the truly great recitals of the convention, on one
of its very best organs--an 1870 Hook (Opus 529) of fifteen stops, moved into
First Parish's fine modern building from a church in Philadelphia. The program
began with a hymn that rather set the tone for the rest of the program,
"Stand up, stand up for Jesus," to the tune Webb. The organ is tucked
in a corner in the front of the church, and has facades on two sides, and the
whole thing resonates like one big soundboard--it really is rich and full, and
beautiful besides. The Triumphal March of Dudley Buck is the kind of spirited
stuff that can really be effective in the hands of a strong and sure player
with spirit to match--really good fun. Then, by Amy Beach, a lovely work,
Prelude on an Old Folk Tune, very Irish sounding. The next piece was the kind
of thing that would keep a congregation around for the postlude, Toccatina by
George E. Whiting (1840-1923). The beginning was a bit reminiscent of the
Lemmens Fanfare. Next, David the King, based on a theme of William Billings, by
Gardner Read--a lament on the death of Absalom. Finally, the grand finale,
Allegro comodo, from Suite in D by Arthur Foote. This work might have suffered
from a lesser performance, but there was nothing lesser about what we heard--a
great ending, to much applause and a quick stand up!

On to Follen Community Church, the oldest church in
Lexington, boasting as one of its ministers Ralph Waldo Emerson. What a
beautiful place and beautiful instrument, both to see and to hear. E. &
G.G. Hook Opus 466 of 1869 was originally in a church in Stoneham, but was
given as a gift and moved to Follen Church in 1995. Erik Suter, with degrees
from both Oberlin and Yale, is now assistant organist and choirmaster at
Washington National Cathedral. The program: Pinkham, "Festive March"
from Music for a Quiet Sunday, which was commissioned by the church to
celebrate the instrument; Mendelssohn, Third Sonata: Sweelinck, Variations on Balletto
del granduca, for which organbuilder John Bishop operated the hand pump, which
really did make a noticeable difference--the wind was rather gentle and supple.
The program ended quietly with the Paul Manz Aria, which featured the Melodia
stop, living up to its name, and toward the end of the piece, an octave up,
where it was ravishing. The final hymn: "Come down, O Love Divine"
(Down Ampney). Suter launched into a quite cathedral-like improvisation on Down
Ampney which sent everyone out very cheerfully indeed.

Sometimes food claims a place on the list of OHS convention
memories. On this Saturday evening, we had an example of this, and what an
example! At 5:30 in the beautiful evening light we boarded a large and very
fast boat for Thompson Island, the history of which is complex and off topic
here, other than to say it is a quite large, hilly, and scenic place from
which, in the right spot, one neither sees nor senses the presence of the big
city so near. I have been to one clambake in my life, a small, private affair,
memorable for wonderful seafood and for good company. This was that experience
writ large; there was no end to the wonderful food. There were various salad
things, baked beans, a wonderful piece of steak, a large pile of steamed clams
and an enormous lobster on a separate plate. We were seated in a great tent,
with some outside places for those who enjoy mosquitos. At the end
style="mso-spacerun: yes">  we hiked down to the dock through the
cool darkness, and after a bit of a wait, our boat appeared to take us back to
the mainland, giving a gorgeous moonlit ride back to Boston Harbor.

On Sunday morning the Annual Meeting of the Society was
scheduled for 8:30. There were reports from all the committees carrying on the
work of the Society, including the Historic Organs Citation Committee, the
superb OHS Archives in a new home in Princeton, the Biggs Fellowship Committee,
the Convention Committee, the Publications Committee, and so much more. At this
convention about a half-dozen plaques were presented to churches that have
recognized the historic significance and musical importance of their
instruments and have continued to maintain them properly. This recognition,
plus the very presence of several hundred musicians in their church coming to
hear the instrument, sends a strong message of support and encouragement. The
Biggs Fellowship is a great program, and its ability to assist interested
people in attending a convention when they might not otherwise be able to do
so, has been greatly enhanced by a major gift from the estate of Peggy Biggs,
the wife of E. Power, who died recently. This year the convention was enriched
by the presence of four Biggs Fellows: Daniel W. Hopkins of Lockeport, Nova
Scotia; Ted Kiefer of Franklinville, New Jersey; Tony Kupina of
Montréal, Québec; and Daniel B. Sanez of Hollywood, California. A
visit to the OHS Archives in Princeton finds one in a place where one could
happily stay for days on end, exploring the amazing riches, holdings unequaled
by any other resource anywhere in the world. Many have studied there helped by
one of the research grants available through OHS. The Archives were bursting at
the seams in the old space in the Westminster Choir College Library, and
through gifts from business and arts organizations and individuals, the sum of
$85,000 was collected to make possible the move to new and spacious quarters.
Confident in the knowledge that OHS is important to all its members, important
enough that they are willing to help the organization financially over and
above the membership fees, a new fund has been established and announced at
this year's annual meeting. This endowment fund will help stabilize the
finances of the organization and enable it to expand its work in a number of
areas where money has been a bit tight. The goal is a half-million dollars, and
amazingly, a small group of officers and close friends of the Society has
already pledged the sum of $58,000. I hope anyone reading this who is not a
member of OHS will consider now joining. Try: . By
the way, next summer's convention will be in Winston-Salem, North Carolina,
June 21-28.

On this Sunday afternoon, there were some opportunities to
visit Cambridge organs and also the astonishing beauties of Mount Auburn
Cemetery, which for American organists and organbuilders, might be a rough
equivalent to an Englishman visiting Poets' Corner in Westminster Abbey. Some
recitals were played in Cambridge, and some churches held special musical
events for conventioneers. I chose to stay close to the hotel before the great
evening event, a concert about which I almost fear to write, so controversial
was it. Catching all the buzz on the walk back to the hotel and in the exhibit
room later, there seemed to be no agreement whatsoever about the instrument,
the player, her registrations, the music she chose--even what she wore! That
Cherry Rhodes is the consummate concert artist cannot be in dispute. Nor can
one deny the historicity and significance of the enormous 1952 Aeolian-Sinner
organ, much upgraded and changed both mechanically and tonally over the years,
but still bearing the stamp of the makers, working under consultant Larry
Phelps. Beyond that, I heard those things that I thought I rather liked being
roundly condemned by some, and those things that I thought I did not like being
roundly praised by others. If nothing else, the organ is a great amusement.
There is much to gaze upon, with all manner of pipes mounted in all kinds of
arrangements. There is nothing to suggest the historic structure of The Pipe
Organ, perhaps even less so than in some of the exposed organs of Walter
style="mso-spacerun: yes">  Holtkamp, Sr. Looking at those, one
usually knew what was where. Not so here in the First Church of Christ,
Scientist, known familiarly as The Mother Church. The great heaps of pipework
are not identifiable without some sort of guidance. The exposed pipework speaks
into an enormous space, seating about eight thousand people, and amazingly, it
projects fairly well, coming to the listener's ear, I think, with the aid of
the various domed shapes in the building. It is capable of gentleness and also
of bombast, all sounding to my ears just a bit on the thin side, and looking at
the pipework, one does have the impression of thin. I am sure I will pay for
this in some way, but I have to say that at the end of the first piece, a large
plenum with tons of mixture ranks in play caused me to say that I thought it
all sounded incredibly electronic.

The program (12 pieces, only two of which I had ever heard)
began with a piece that made use of the spacious layout of the organ, a work by
Frank Ticheli (b. 1958) dedicated in its organ arrangement to Cherry Rhodes.
Pacific Fanfare (1999) began very softly and finally did build up to live up to
its name, exploring the many reeds of various volumes on this instrument. This
was followed by the Sweelinck Bergamasca, using what is called the Continuo
division of the organ; Deuxième Légende of Bonnet, a beautiful
work; from the Vierne Pièces de Fantaisie, "Impromptu";
Méditation by Gabriel Dupont (1878-1914, an organ student of Widor);
Sportive Fauns, by the Yugoslav composer, Deszö d'Antalffy-Zsiross
(1885-1945), who studied with, among others, Max Reger. After intermission, the
obligatory hymn, "I love thy way of freedom, Lord" to a Hubert Parry
tune, Heavenward. The accompaniment was unusual, being almost a gentle wash of
sound much in the manner of some English Psalm accompaniments, very much in the
background. Then Four Pieces for the Mass by José Lidón; Clarence
Mader's "The Afternoon of a Toad"; and Variations on "Victimae
Paschali," by Jiri Ropek (b. 1922 in Prague).

Whatever misgivings people might have had about the concert,
at the end of the Ropek there was a spontaneous and essentially unanimous
standing ovation, and it kept going long enough that it was clear an encore was
needed, the lovely and quiet Salve Festa Dies by Marius Walter. Hailing the
festival day was a very gentle affair, but beautiful. And thus ended Sunday and
the weekend.

Monday, August 21

The recitals this day were part of an elective involving visits
to instruments in the Newton area. The alternative was the Mount Auburn
Cemetery, also available the previous day. A third choice was to do nothing and
ride a bus later to a concert at The Korean Church in Cambridge.

First stop: Church of the Redeemer, Chestnut Hill, Newton,
something of a cookie-cutter Anglican pretend Gothic building, of which there
must be thousands around the country. It boasted pretend Gothic acoustics as
well. Heard from the third row on the south side, the Noack organ was overpowering.
I suspect that this chancel installation caused the builder to push the
instrument so it could lead those in the back row of the church. Gretchen
Longwell gave a program that one might play on a North German-oriented
mechanical-action organ in a good room in an academic environment. The audience
was made up almost completely of organists, but the recital missed one of the
features of OHS programming--showing a variety of things the organ can do. Many
thought that we could have heard some Vierne, Mendelssohn, or anything else
that might show the Romantic possibilities which probably exist in this
instrument. The program: Buxtehude, Praeludium in G Minor; Boehm, Wer nur den
lieben Gott lasst walten; the hymn 
"If thou but trust in God to guide you"; two Schübler
chorales: Meine Seele and Ach bleib bei uns, both really well played; and the
Ernst/Bach, Concerto in G.

The next recital featured a new instrument built by George
Bozeman at Eliot Church (Congregational) in Newton Corner, Newton. The instrument
has rather active or flexible wind, a bit more so than wanted, as there was
clearly no room for the main reservoir right with the instrument--it is in the
next room--and even fitted with concussion bellows, things occasionally get a
bit bouncy. But the overall effect is very good. There is an amazing wooden 16'
Pedal Trombone, tremendously round and full in sound, not loud, and perhaps a
bit slow of speech, but really fun when it opens out. The recitalist was
Kimberly Ann Hess, director of chapel music and college organist at Stonehill
College in Easton, Massachusetts. The program: de Grigny, Veni Creator, played
with glorious ornamentation and clarity on a very sympathetic organ in
Kirnberger I; Schumann, Four Sketches from Opus 58; Bach, Toccata in F (BWV
540), including the most expressive playing of that long Pedal solo I have ever
heard; and the hymn "We are your people" to Sine Nomine.

Brian Jones has been featured at OHS conventions seemingly
forever. To be sure, his playing is always wonderful, but he gives more,
steeped as he is in the history of the instrument, the OHS, and New England
itself. Léfebure-Wély, Boléro de Concert; Concerto in D by
Charles Avison (1817-1953); Jongen, Scherzetto, op. 108, no. 1. The next and
final work on the program was dedicated to Alan Laufman, director of the Organ
Clearing House, who, as a young man, first turned pages for Jones for the same
piece quite a few years back at an OHS Convention on The Cape. Jones gave a
spirited reading of the Bach Prelude and Fugue in A Minor (BWV 543); and
finally the hymn, "How shall I sing that majesty which angels do
admire," to the tune Coe Fen.

Next on the schedule was Nancy Granert at The Korean Church
(formerly Pilgrim U.C.C.) in Cambridgeport, Cambridge. The 22-stop Hutchings instrument
of 1886 was not very telling in a fully carpeted room, unfortunately, and the
program began with three early works that just did not make sense on the
instrument and in the non-intimate environment: Spanieler Tanz of Johannes Weck
(early 16th century), Mit ganzem Willen wünsch ich ihr of Paumann, and
Kochersperger Spanieler of Hans Kotter; then two Bach settings of Liebster
Jesu, the first on the really warm Open Diapason, and the second using the
Dolce Cornet for the cantus, quiet but pungent. We then sang the chorale, with
a chance to sing harmony in the middle stanza. Then George Chadwick,
Canzonetta; Frank Donahoe, Impromptu. We finally heard the (rather
underwhelming) full organ in the Arthur Foote Prelude in C. Nancy Granert is
now organist at Emmanuel Church (Boston) and Temple Sinai (Brookline), and is
on the faculty at the Boston University School for the Arts. The audience stood
all around the walls, around the altar, and in extra seats in each of the
aisles. The organ did not have a chance, but Granert put in a valiant effort,
and it was clear that she is an excellent player.

We had heard four recitals already, and it was getting on
for 5 pm, but most did not accept the proffered escape bus to the hotel,
instead opting to hear Rosalind Mohnsen at the beautiful St. Catherine of Genoa
Church in Somerville, with its fine 1894 Jardine, and decent acoustic. Mohnsen
shared her program with a wonderful, expressive soprano, Maura Lynch, who added
a great deal of interest to the program. First, three Antiphons from the
Fifteen Pieces of Dupré, "His left hand is under my head,"
"Lo, the Winter is Past," and "How Fair and Pleasant art
Thou"; the hymn "Come Holy Ghost, Creator Blest" sung to a
pleasant minor-key tune from the Pius X Hymnal--written by Theodore Marier;
then Schumann, two of the Fugues on the Name of Bach. Ms. Lynch stepped forward
to the balcony rail and sang "The Flag of Prospect Hill" by J.W.
Bailey. We then sang an interesting cantor and response sort of hymn "Now
Help Us, Lord," with Ms. Lynch serving as cantor. Next, for soprano and
organ, Der Schmetterling ist in die Rose verliebt, op. 14, no. 2 of Henry
Hadley (1871-1937). Last on the program was Henry Dunham's (1853-1929) Fantasia
and Fugue in d, op. 19. Rosalind Mohnsen is director of music at Immaculate
Conception Church in Malden, and this was her 15th OHS convention recital.

Dinner on this evening was a barbeque at the Charlestown
Navy Yard. The food really was delicious, and we were only a short walk from
St. Mary Roman Catholic Church, Charlestown, where Dana Robinson played a
stunning recital. This church was one of a number of very old, large, Catholic
churches that have been recently re-stored. This was a great evening of great
organ music suited to the grand old Woodberry and Harris Organ of 1892 in a
fine acoustic. Parker, Introduction and Fugue in E Minor; a duet version of six
Schumann Studies for Pedal Piano (Opus 56) with Paul Tegels assisting; Franck,
E-Major Chorale; the hymn "Immaculate Mary" to the Lourdes Hymn; Widor,
the complete Symphonie Gothique. Dr. Robinson teaches at the School of Music of
the University of Illinois.

Tuesday, August 22

Tuesday the 22nd began with a lecture by Pamela Fox
concerning the Hook & Hastings factory in Weston, which involves more of
interest than might meet the eye. This was an attempt at a complete
"community of labor," with workers' cottages, a company-built
recreation hall, and other facilities. The move to Weston took place in 1880.

This was it--my first chance to hear the legendary
instrument at Old West Church, and its legendary organist, Yuko Hayashi.
Perhaps the experience of the organ was a bit underwhelming (to me) because we
have all heard so many wonderful instruments in a similar style that have been
built since this pioneer Fisk organ appeared in 1971. Many of these, I think,
surpass Old West in terms of color and clarity, an excellent example of which
we heard at our next stop. The program: Buxtehude, Toccata in D Minor; Bach,
Wenn wir in höchsten Nöthen sein; Clérambault, Suite on the
Second Tone. The Basse de Cromorne was something else, given the monster
Cromorne on this instrument, full of color and character. The Récit de
nasard revealed another monster, the Nasard itself--quite big and colorful in
combination. We did sing a hymn, "Now thank we all our God," in the
strange unison version found at number 396 in the 1982 Hymnal. Had anyone
turned one more page, they would have come to the harmonization
style="mso-spacerun: yes">  by Monk, following Mendelssohn's
symphony version, which would have been infinitely more fun.

Next First Lutheran Church, where Richards, Fowkes &
Company Opus 10 was in the final stages of installation, sufficiently far along
to allow William Porter to improvise his way through many combinations of
sounds. This organ, in its hideous Piero Belluschi building, should be a
fabulous addition to the Boston organ scene.

For the next program, Frederick Jodry V gave a really
interesting performance on a 1938 Wicks instrument in a fine acoustical
environment, Most Holy Name Parish, West Roxbury, the instrument designed and
voiced by Henry Vincent Willis. Wow! Broad foundation tone! Reading through the
very detailed stoplist provided, some features stand out. The Great has no
mixture, going only to the 2' Principal. There are, however, two Open Diapasons
at 8'. The flues are on 95mm of wind, but the Great Trumpet is on 145mm. The
Choir (enclosed--73 note chest) has a French Horn with its own tremolo. It is
on 140mm of wind, while the rest of the division is on 95mm. The Swell has flues
on 100mm, a Vox Humana which automatically engages its own Tremolo, on 105mm,
with the four other reeds on 140mm. The Pedal has a 16' Open Diapason and a 16'
Bourdon. All else is either borrowed or extended from somewhere. There is a
small sanctuary organ, but it is not working, and was not made available for
inspection. The program: Woodman, Little Partita for Easter; Chadwick,
Pastorale, demonstrating a truly wonderful Harmonic Flute;
Léfebure-Wély, March; the hymn "The Strife is O'er" at
an incredibly fast clip. The program finished with a really interesting
Postlude on a Theme of Palestrina by Dudley Buck.

One of the happy-making experiences of this convention has
been seeing quite a few ornate, very old, Roman Catholic churches that have
been newly loved and spruced up with great care and taste. Saint Patrick Church
in Roxbury is not one of these, possibly lacking the enormous amount of money
required for a major fix-up. It does have rather nice stations, set in small
tabernacles, perhaps two or three feet high, and lighted indirectly from above.
The room is disfigured by ugly loudspeakers stuck all over the place. The organ
is an E. & G.G. Hook & Hastings from 1880, rebuilt by Hutchings in
1893, adding a Barker lever to the Great and its couplers. The pipework and
chests are original Hook & Hastings, but the Choir organ was added by
Hutchings. It is visually reminiscent of the Covington Holtkamp that has been
discussed on Piporg-l, with exposed pipework in a pleasing pattern--rather
remarkable for its time.

In this church, Kristin Farmer played one of those
"Program will be announced" events, again of necessity, given the
precarious condition of the organ. Kristin and her organbuilder husband John
Farmer have donated countless hours to getting this organ up and playing for
the convention. After the organ received an OHS Plaque, we heard the following
program: Langlais, Hommage; three Dupré Antiphons; Meditation from
Thaïs; and a Gigue by John Bull. The Langlais really worked on the instrument,
which is quite beautiful doing mystic bits, and also capable of some richness
as the volume rises. There is a strong and independent 16' Open on the Great.
In the Dupré "I am black but comely," the Flute had a
wonderful open sound. The John Bull Gigue was played rather full out, and the
upperwork was irritatingly out of tune, sounding for all the world like a
supercoupler forcing into play pipes that have not been noticed (or tuned) in
years--but there is no supercoupler. At the end, we sang "Glory, love, and
praise," to the pleasant tune "Benifold," by Francis Westbrook
(1903-1975).

It was getting on for tea time, and at First Parish
(Unitarian) in Roxbury the convention split into two groups: one group going to
the recital and the other to what was billed in the book as a
"reception." This meant not high tea, but various cool drinks and
cookies out under the trees in back of the church. The recital of one hour and
ten minutes (surely the longest daytime event of the convention) took place on
a rather anemic instrument in a totally dead acoustic in a quite large
building. (The building is quite beautiful, if greatly run down, but a grant
has apparently been secured and further funds are being sought for its
restoration.) Robert Barney gave another performance of the Brahms Prelude and
Fugue in G Minor, which was effective in the space, followed by another good
choice, the Hindemith Second Sonata. But nothing could overcome the effect of
the hour, the hopelessly dull acoustic and the instrument. There was a certain
amount of merriment when folks realized the hymn to come was "Sleepers
Wake! A voice astounds us." But wait, there was yet more to come. The
Reger Fantasy on Wachet Auf really did not belong in this building, on this
organ, and for that trivial matter, at this time of day. Two people were sound
asleep in my pew. We ran, not walked, to the waiting buses.

The evening venue was Holy Cross Cathedral. Anyone, in New
England at least, who receives mail at all, has probably had a mailing from Leo
Abbott concerning his ongoing effort to restore this most wonderful instrument
in a glorious space. The instrument, Hook & Hastings from 1875, is simply
enormous, with all mod cons of the period, including Barker lever to the Great
and its couplers, pneumatic stop action, eight mixtures, and imported French
reeds from Zimmerman, some with Cavaillé-Coll shallots. It was
electrified around 1929 by Laws. Henri Lahaise and Sons have been working
steadily to keep it going, while doing restoration work as time and funds permit.
Along with lots of AGO members and other members of the Boston musical
community, in addition to lots of parishioners, we were a huge audience to hear
four well-known organists in a program that became even more remarkable than we
were led to expect.

George Bozeman led off with some charming Pepping Chorale
Preludes, ones from the Kleines Orgelbüch. Julian Wachner, who had given a
full evening recital earlier in the week, offered the Bach Dorian Toccata and
Fugue. The Toccata was a bit thick for the registration and building, but the
Fugue was magical, with a hardly noticeable but very real build-up that left
one breathless at the final cadence. Next came Wachner's transcription of El
Salon Mexico of Copland. I guess there are cannon shots in the score, and Leo Abbott
was ready in the balcony with an enormous bass drum, which he struck with
immense authority. At the first blow, the whole audience rose quite visibly
just a bit off its seats. Peter Sykes began the second half with a stunning
performance of the Reger Fantasy and Fugue on BACH. This was our first chance
to hear the organ full out in a major piece of organ literature. It was totally
tremendous, and the audience response was enormous. Leo Abbott assumed his
familiar bench at his familiar reversed horseshoe theater organ console (long
story, but the thing works!), and led the hymn "The Royal Banners Forward
Go" (Agincourt Hymn), with lots of wonderful fanfares and interludes. He
then gave a magnificent improvisation on Salve Regina, which, among other things,
was a great tour through the instrument. After the last chord had died away,
there were whoops and cheers, and an audience completely on its feet. What a
night!

The final great day

Wednesday, August 23

On this last day, it was hard to
refrain from commenting on the weather. With the exception of one evening of
some rain, the days were cool, sunny, and dry. One's impressions of a
convention are somewhat tempered, I think, by whether one has or has not sat in
broiling hot churches with perspiration pouring down. We had essentially none
of that.

This day began with a lecture on
"Organ Pedagogy in Boston 1850-1900," and included a discussion of
the personalities, the publications, and institutions of the period. To attend
a Friday noon recital at Trinity, Copley Square, is to learn that this organ
culture remains very much alive today. It will be you and about 299 others in
attendance! The AGO chapter is one of the largest and most active in the
country.

For the first two concerts of
the day we were split into two groups, so today's performers each played twice.
Our group began at First Baptist Church in Framingham at 11:30 with a totally
satisfying event. The church is the oldest in the area, clearly well-loved and
well kept. Victoria Wagner gave a program of organ works and songs in which she
accompanied soprano Nancy Armstrong. The organ is gentle, the room not resonant
but small and clear. The idea of this combination organ concert and song
recital was just right. The instrument, William Simmons of 1853, 17 stops, is
lovely, but not perhaps compelling enough to carry a full program on its own.
Like the church, it has been well cared for, and was presented with an OHS
plaque before the music began. The program: Handel, Voluntary XI; two Purcell
songs, "We Sing to Him" (Harmonia Sacra) and "Tecum principium
in die virtutis" from Dixit Dominus; the hymn "Rock of Ages" to
"Toplady"; James Woodman's song, Rock of Ages. Next, the premiere of
Peter Sykes's "Arise my love" for organ and soprano, a truly lovely
addition to the repertoire for voice and organ. The perfect finish to this
lovely event was Festival March, by Christian Teilman. Victoria Wagner is
director of music at Trinitarian Congregational Church in Concord, organ
instructor at Regis College in Weston, and on the piano faculty at the Noble
& Greenough School in Dedham.

It was lunch time. If you were
in Group A, you ate at St. Andrew's Church, Wellesley, but Group B, of which I
was a member, ate at Village Congregational, also in Wellesley. There were no
concerts scheduled for these churches--only the use of their facilities for the
meal. Then onward to the Chapel at Wellesley College. The complications of the
keyboard require quite a bit of time and understanding. There are split sharps
and a "short octave," and nothing quite feels like what one is used
to at home. But the whole thing represents the kind of creative adventure,
unique, I think, to the questing and curious mind of Charles Brenton Fisk. I
need to quote a bit of history from the ever-helpful Organ Handbook: "In
1972, Wellesley College signed a contract with C. B. Fisk for a two-manual
organ based on Dutch models, c. 1620. Inaugurated in 1981, this organ and its
design underwent considerable evolution in the decade leading to its fruition.
From the beginning, it was intended that a specialized instrument, built
‘in the spirit of uncompromising authenticity' would allow students a
European experience in America." The Pedal Posaune was added in 1983, as
were carved pipeshades. Additional Pedal stops were added in 1987, and the case
was oiled and gilded in 1992. At the other (east) end is an Aeolian-Skinner
instrument which is, in fact, used for accompanying the choir and congregation
up front.

On the above-described Fisk
instrument, Margaret Irwin-Brandon gave a most elegant recital: Scheidemann,
Fantasia in C; Weckmann, Canzon in G Major; a choral prelude by Franz Tunder,
Jesus Christus, unser Heiland, der von uns, served in alternation to our
singing of the chorale in or with various harmonizations. Next, the Buxtehude G
Minor. While there is an electric blower for practice, in normal public
playing, the organ is human-pumped. One person can do it all, although there is
room for two at the pumping apparatus. One must carefully go backwards up a
short staircase, step out over a beam connected to one of the feeder bellows,
and glide down, propelled by one's own weight, on that beam until the bellows
hits bottom. At this point, one goes back up the stairs, and vigilance is
wanted to wait for the last-pumped bellows to rise almost to the top, at which
point one rides down on the other one. It's an exercise that adds a most
graceful visual component to the playing of this instrument. As you look at the
case, to the left, you see the pumper backing up the stairs, and then
ever-so-gracefully riding down quite slowly on the bellows, after which the
work is repeated. A couple of our Biggs Fellows had the honor of raising the
wind.

For various reasons I missed a
recital at St. Mary R.C. Church, Waltham, by Libor Dudas, music director and
organist at the famous Old North Church. The program included the Brahms A
Minor Prelude & Fugue, the Elgar Vesper Voluntaries, and the Franck Finale,
on an 1874 Hook & Hastings instrument, restored by Henri Lahaise and Son
during the 1990s.

The last concert of the
convention took us back to Immaculate Conception where, before an enormous
audience of conventioneers, AGO members, and Boston music lovers, Thomas Murray
gave one final fabulous musical memory. The whole program was a procession of
delights, all played in the elegant Murray manner and wonderfully registered
with great care: Guilmant, Sonata IV in D Minor; Reger, Benedictus; Schumann,
Three Studies for Pedal-Piano; Bonnet, Matin Provençale (No. 2 from Poèmes
d'Automne, 1908); Franck, Fantasy in A Major. We sang a rousing hymn,
"Praise the Lord, ye heavens adore him," to a grand Victorian tune
called "Faben," composed by the first organist of Immaculate
Conception Parish, who served until his death in 1875, John Henry Wilcox. Next,
three more of the Schumann Studies; finally, the Mulet Carillon-Sortie. And
sortie we did, back to the exhibit hall cum bar, for a last social time with
friends from far and near.

What a wonderful convention! I
hope this report might help some readers to consider making plans now to attend
next summer in North Carolina, from June 21st to the 28th.

--Malcolm Wechsler

Mander Organs, USA

The author thanks Mark Nelson,
William Van Pelt, Judy Ollikkala, and Anonymous for corrections and additions
to this article after its original Internet appearance.

Marilyn Mason celebrates her 80th birthday on June 29. She was born in Alva, Oklahoma, on June 29, 1925. Dr. Mason is University Organist, Professor of Music, and Chairman of the Organ Department at the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor. Her affiliation with Michigan began in 1944 as a pupil of Palmer Christian, and she later completed the MMus degree at Michigan. She spent time in France, where she studied under Nadia Boulanger (analysis) and Maurice Durufl? (organ), and in 1954 she earned the Doctor of Sacred Music degree at Union Theological Seminary in New York.
As an undergraduate, she was awarded the Stanley Medal, the highest award given to any music major. Later, in her teaching career, her colleagues presented her with the Distinguished Faculty Award, and music alumni awarded her the first Citation of Merit. During her time at Michigan, annual summer and fall Conferences on Organ Music have become regular highlights. She has led more than 50 historic organ tours abroad, and the Marilyn Mason Organ was created in a specifically designed recital hall in the School of Music. The organ, built by C. B. Fisk, is a replica in the spirit of the instruments of Gottfried Silbermann.Marilyn Mason has made a lasting impact in her distinguished career as concert organist, teacher, lecturer, adjudicator, consultant, recording artist, and by the nearly 75 organ works she has commissioned. Dr. Mason has performed on every continent, save Antarctica. She was the first American woman to play in Westminster Abbey, the first woman organist to play in Latin America, and the first American to play in Egypt. She has served as judge at nearly every major organ competition in the world. Her dedication to contemporary organ music is evidenced by the names of prominent composers who have written for her: Albright, Bolcom, Cook, Cowell, Creston, Diemer, Haines, Jackson, Johnson, Jordan, Krenek, Langlais, Lockwood, Near, Persichetti, Sowerby, Wyton, Young, and others. In 1987, Dr. Mason was awarded the degree Doctor of Music honoris causa from the University of Nebraska. In 1988 she was chosen as Performer of the Year by the New York City chapter of the American Guild of Organists.We join the contributors below in wishing Dr. Mason a most happy birthday.
?Jerome Butera

The gift of friendship

The time: July or August, 1957; the occasion: TheInternational Congress of Organists; the place: Westminster Abbey, London.

The Royal College of Organists hosted a meeting of organistsfrom around the world, with soloists from the American Guild of Organists, theRoyal Canadian College of Organists and the RCO. Many distinguished playerswere heard, and the recital by Marilyn Mason was greatly anticipated. Theprogram included Leo Sowerby?s Classic Concerto for organ and orchestra conducted by the composer.The stylish and polished performance by Dr. Mason, exemplary in every way, wasa highlight, her playing all the more telling as the abbey organ at that timehad only one general piston.

Later in the week at a garden party on the abbey grounds,heavy rain sent delegates running for shelter, and it was in the safety of thecloisters that I first spoke with Dr. Mason--and I was immediately awareof her warmth and interest towards a recently graduated organ student.

I had no thought of leaving England, but in the followingyear I accepted a church appointment in Canada. In 1959 Dr. Mason played aprogram at Metropolitan United Church, London, Ontario, which included theRoger-Ducasse Pastorale, a piece she hadmade her own, and the much underplayed Suite of Paul Creston that she had commissioned.Afterwards, in the line of listeners to say ?thank you,? Dr. Masonsaid, ?I remember you, where?? ?Running from the rain atWestminster Abbey.?

The University Organ Conference became a yearly fixture forme following the first in 1962 with Anton Heiller as the featured player. Whocould forget his lecture-recital on Orgelbüchlein?  Overthe years many European and North American organists made great contributionswith their lectures, demonstrations and performances.

Having played hundreds of recitals throughout the world,taught and encouraged hundreds of pupils in almost 60 years at the Universityof Michigan, Marilyn?s ability for friendship is one thing that sets herapart. Her legendary technique, her ability to get to the core of the music, isalmost superseded by her rare gift of friendship.

The 50 U-M trips to historic organs of Europe, eye and earopeners, are arranged so that members can hear the 18th-century north Germanorgan builders, those of the south, or the wonders of France from the Clicquotsto the Cavaillé-Colls. Doors are opened, organs made available, becauseof Dr. Mason?s reputation and her extensive network of players in theorgan world.

As a former student I say thank you, Marilyn, for yourinspiring teaching, the many walks through the ?Arb? (AnnArbor?s Arboretum) to the School of Music, the innumerable meals andconversations, your delightful sense of humor, your love of poetry and analmost  lifelong friendship.

Many are in awe of Dr. Mason?s musicianship,championing and commissioning of music for our instrument. I appreciate hercare and concern for all people she meets.

--Gordon Atkinson

At the time he left England, Gordon Atkinson was organist atSt. John the Baptist Church, Holland Road, Kensington, London, where among hispredecessors were Healey Willan and William Harris. A former president of theRCCO, Dr. Atkinson now lives in Melbourne, Australia.

Gospel Preludes

This past century has seen an enormous growth in challengingnew organ music, and one of the most influential virtuosi and proponents of neworgan music is Marilyn Mason. She has encouraged so much new music from so manycomposers, and I especially thank her for her extensive performances andinsightful teaching of my own music. She has commissioned several of my mostimportant organ works and has always championed them, and this is precious to acomposer--maybe the work will have a life! But no work has a life withoutthe right performance, and her doing the right performance for me and so manyothers, long dead and still living, is what makes Marilyn Mason so extremelyspecial.

--William Bolcom

Ross Lee Finney Distinguished University Professor of Music,The University of Michigan

A student for life

Once you have studied with Marilyn Mason, you study with herfor life. Yes, you may graduate, but you are never far from her constantguidance and care. During my years with her, I found that in one breath shecould correct my articulation and registration and also inquire if my checkbookwas balanced. Never overly critical, she could find ways to correct andencourage at the same time. And her analogies were priceless. Once afterplaying a particular piece, she thought for a moment and said to me,?hearing you play that piece like that reminds me of someone trying toeat peas with a knife.? Dr. Mason is a tireless teacher dedicated to theentire well-being of her students. As other students can attest, she insistedthat each of us have a church position. For her, a learning experience is notsufficient without a practical application. And you earn money. How convenient!

Dr. Mason also insisted that all of her students be able tocook. Although I never mastered the art, Saturday mornings were dedicated tobread baking in her Ann Arbor home, and her famous baguettes accompanied nearlyevery meal. Her equally famous ?green punch? was a fixture atnearly every reception or party! While not always green, the punch was seldomwithout its admirers.

Traveling remains an important part of Dr. Mason?slife. Her organ tours, numbering over fifty at this point, have exposed many tothe famous organs of the world. On each tour, a mix of music aficionados andstudents embark upon a life-changing experience. Through her generosity, manystudents are able to receive scholarships to help them defray the cost of thesetours, a benefit not lost on many. As a student, I traveled on five tours. Itis one thing to read about the organs of Spain, France, and Italy and be toldwhat they sound like. But to actually play and spend time on the instruments isquite another matter. As any tour member can tell you, Dr. Mason knows thatwherever you travel in the world, the most important person is the man with thekey! Once while in Rome, I found myself on the bench at St. Peter?s.Being told by the organist that we had only a little time, each of us rotatedon and off the bench while Dr. Mason kept the keeper of the key distracted.Playing last, I was quite prepared to finish my pieces and leave. Turning to mefrom a distance away, she told me to play ?longer and slower . . . theycan?t kick us off the bench while the music is going.?

As many of us have experienced over the years, I have foundProf. Mason to be a completely approachable and unselfish person. In constantcommunication with students and colleagues, whether through her famoustypewriter or e-mail, any problem musically or otherwise is given thoughtfulconsideration. As a ?second? mother and extension of my family, sheoften invited us into her home for holidays and special events. During times ofillness and strife, her home or studio was often filled with moments of prayeror words of encouragement. 

As Prof. Mason approaches this milestone in her life andcareer, I see no sign that she is slowing down. Indeed, following her for a daywill leave you intellectually challenged and mentally and physically exhausted.I could go on and on recounting our times together, but instead I will simplyclose with her most famous quote. ?Remember students, your performanceisn?t over until you are in the parking lot.? Dr. Mason, pleaseremember that as well, and God bless you for another eighty years.

--Phillip Burgess

Phillip Burgess holds MM and DMA degrees from the Universityof Michigan, and is currently organist/choirmaster of St. Luke?sEpiscopal Church in Salisbury, North Carolina.

Marilyn?s maxims

One is not around Marilyn Mason for long before it becomesapparent that one is in the presence of a walking ?Poor Richard?sAlmanac.? Just as Ben Franklin filled the minds and hearts of colonialAmericans with short pithy phrases that helped them cope with the practicalrealities of life on the frontier, Marilyn has helped several generations oforgan students navigate the treacheries of left hand and pedal, church musiccommittees, and the beginnings of musical careers with similar phrases for boththe particular and the universal.

When our concentration flagged during a long fugue we werereminded that, ?The performance is not over until you are in the parkinglot.? When we were pondering career options and had not put forth theeffort of sending out that additional résumé we heard, ?Youcan?t accept a position you haven?t applied for.? In themiddle of a long project, or when our devotion to duty wavered, Nadia Boulangerwas quoted: ?You must do your little bit each day.? Marilyn tellswith relish the story of an admirer who gushed in a receiving line after one ofher recitals, ?You are so lucky to play so well.? Her reply was,?Yes, the more I practice, the luckier I get!? 

Some of the sayings have universal application.?Timing is everything? works for the shaping of sonata allegro form, knowing when to make thatrecommendation call to the chairperson of a search committee, or when it istime for a joke during a tedious meeting.

Then there is the short ejaculation,  ?How convenient!? Thisphrase was quickly adopted after it was uttered by an organist demonstratinghow to change stops on a Rückpositiv where the knobs were located on thecase behind the organ bench. The organist twisted herself into a pretzel andexclaimed ?See how convenient these are.? The irony and humor werenot lost, and this two-word phrase now highlights most any situation, just asan ?Amen? can be used after a prayer of thanksgiving, supplication,or devotion.

Well, Marilyn, timing may be everything, but somehow timejust doesn?t seem to apply to you. For one thing,  time stands still when we are aroundyou. Your constant activity, love of life,  infectious enthusiasm and devotion to the world of music ingeneral and the pipe organ in particular keep us entranced. Fifteen years aftermost people retire you have just produced another recording, premiered a newwork in New York and Paris, and are preparing for another historic organ tour.This is all in addition to your normal duties as professor of organ andchairman of the department. Just as Ben urged his fellow citizens to create agreat country by improving themselves, we are reminded to do the same by yourexample, your devotion,  your loveand care for us, and all of those maxims. HOW CONVENIENT!!!

--James Hammann

James Hammann teaches organ and theory at the University ofNew Orleans. He is director of music for The Chapel of the Holy Comforter, andruns his own maintenance business for pipe organs in the New Orleans area. Heearned the DMA in organ and church music from The University of Michigan in1987, where Marilyn Mason was his primary teacher.

A lady of firsts

The first American woman to play organ in Westminster Abbey(900th anniversary of the abbey).

The first woman to play organ concerts on five continents inone year.

Her reputation for innovation, learning, and sharing throughteaching traverses the world. She refreshes the art of organ playing throughthese excellent traits. As an example to her students she is alwaysregenerating herself with new ideas and new ways to learn.

I have been privileged to study with Marilyn Mason throughtwo advanced degrees during a particularly creative and innovative time in thehistory of American organ-playing: the so-called Early Music Revival. (Severalyears earlier, I had made her acquaintance during the founding of the Ann ArborAGO chapter.) During this time of revival, Marilyn organized the University ofMichigan Summer Keyboard Institute (now celebrating its 25th year), whichfeatured the venerable Peter Williams--author, performer, and innovativethinker. Due to his great mind among us, we always left the Institute with morequestions than answers! Also at this time, Dr. Mason won for herself auniversity grant to study organ-building in Europe. Thus, Professor JamesKibbie and I, as graduate students, were privileged to be her researchassistants visiting organbuilding shops and major instruments of more than adozen builders in Germany, France, Switzerland, the Netherlands, and Denmark.During these travels we personally witnessed her seemingly limitless capacityfor learning and refreshing her thinking. This single event was the start ofthe famous Historic Organ Tours, the 50th of which she recently completed. Whata way to learn about historic organ performance practice. The instruments arethe great teachers!

Impressive accomplishments for Dr. Mason, but let?slook some decades earlier. Marilyn Mason had played many of these instrumentsin the early years after World War II. She knew the importance of studyingoriginal instruments and European musical thinking. Thus the annual U-MConference on Organ Music was born in 1960 and has flourished ever since. Theconference has always featured European artists who  performed and spoke about the music of their particularcountry. Along with these visiting artists came Lowell Riley, an American whohad spent years photographing European organs and who brought to us dazzlingslide shows of great masterpieces of organbuilding.

MARILYN MASON: fresh-thinking, Energizer-Bunny energetic,humor-filled, highly spiritual, and totally committed to teaching students ofall ages.

Innovations

* performing the Alain Trois Dances with a troupe of U-M dance majors

* performing the Dupré Chemin de la Croix with narration of the famous poem by Paul Claudel andaccompanied by a PowerPoint presentation of great works of art depicting theStations of the Cross

* performing the complete organ works of J. S. Bachthree times in 1985 accompanied by slides of the actual music being played.

Quotes

?I always love a meal that someone else hascooked!?

?Your recital isn?t over until you are in theparking lot.?

?I was once introduced as Marilyn Monroe.?

?See if you can get somewhere near the rightnotes.?

?When you study with Dr. Mason you have to learn tochop veggies.?

Seen and heard

Baking French bread, stacking it in the basket on herbicycle and riding around to give fresh bread to neighbor friends.

Attending Bible study sessions in the neighborhood.

Talking her way through customs after visiting France,trying to explain that those plastic bags in her suitcase were not marijuanabut herbes de Provence.

Her famous ?Joke Book? which was stolen atRiverside Church one day.

My all time personal favorite

Professor Kibbie and I were tape recording in a Europeanchurch and asked Marilyn to run the tape recorder. She was confused: turn thetape over and then rewind or the other way around? Things didn?t work outcorrectly and we lost some of our research. I tried to cheer her up, saying:?Dr. Mason, you were a Phi Beta Kappa, remember?? She apologizedquietly and said, ?It was a low moment. They were taking everyone!?

--Michele Johns

Dr. Michele Johns is adjunct Associate Professor of Music,the University of Michigan School of Music.

The same as ever

Recently, the University of Michigan?s cable TVchannel rebroadcast an interview with Marilyn Mason first televised in 1977.The interviewer?s long hair, wide collar and bell-bottomed trousers aredated, but Marilyn looks remarkably as she does today. She demonstrates theorgans in her studio and Hill Auditorium with masterworks of the repertoireplayed from memory and talks of her love for the instrument and its repertoire,including the new music she has commissioned.

People around the country often ask, ?How is MarilynMason?? The answer is, ?The same as ever,? as that oldvideotape demonstrates. After more than 50 years on the faculty of theUniversity of Michigan, she is still as active and engaged as ever, performing,teaching, leading organ tours, confidently spinning off new ideas, championingour students, and promoting her vision for our profession.

Birthdays can sometimes be an occasion to reminisce, butMarilyn herself doesn?t often engage in that sort of retrospection.She?s far too busy making new plans and promoting new projects. So forMarilyn?s many friends and former students, perhaps I can suggest someother appropriate ways to observe her birthday:

* Attend one of her concerts (easy to do, since sheplays almost everywhere)

* Buy another of her recordings (a new one has justbeen released)

* Play for one of her masterclasses

* Go on a U of M Historic Organ Tour

* Perform a new work for organ, or better yet,commission one

* Attend the U of M Organ Conference or SummerInstitute

* Make a donation to the Marilyn Mason ScholarshipFund at the University of Michigan

* Tell a joke

* Raise a glass.

Like many other former students of Marilyn Mason, I claimher as one of the most important people in my life. I look forward to many moreyears to enjoy her as mentor, colleague and loyal friend.

--James Kibbie

Professor of Organ

The University of Michigan School of Music

Joie de vivre

On the occasion of her 80th birthday,  all best wishes  to an energetic, enthusiastic andremarkable lady and teacher!

When I came to Ann Arbor 37 years ago to study organ,Marilyn?s sons were small enough to crawl behind the sofa when studentscame to her house. Now my grandson is crawling behind the furniture and Marilynis still entertaining students. The years have passed but her vitality andwonderful energy remain. Her jokes have changed but her joie de vivre has not.Longevity alone, if that were all there was to it, has allowed her to affectthe musical careers of hundreds of students, from the United States toSingapore!

But there is more to her endurance than longevity. Her ownprofessional development has never stopped. Marilyn has always kept up with thetimes. Her teaching reflects the traditions of Palmer Christian and JeanLanglais, but it has followed as well the trends of Bach playing through thedetaché 1980s and it has included the revived understanding of classicFrench organ style that made alternatim and Grands Jeux household words amongher students.

Presentation is everything, she has said, in music and infood. What she taught us about stage presence she modeled for us inface-to-face presence. A very few enthusiastic words in a foreign languagecoupled with her smile have opened doors of understanding with guests both hereand abroad.

Good health and a healthy appetite go hand in hand with herlove of life. For years the teacher who explained the grand manner of theFrench tradition rode to work on her bicycle. Travelers on her University ofMichigan historical organ tours will remember her legendary ability to catch ashort nap on the back seat of the bus and to rise refreshed and ready to climbto the next organ loft. The anticipation of the sound of a Cavaillé-Collorgan is always matched by the joy of savoring a great wine and a cassoulet deProvence.

Let?s see--endearing, entertaining, energetic,enthusiastic, enduring--I shouldn?t forget e-mail. Possibly herfavorite mode of communication enables her to stay in touch with students oftoday and yesterday and with traveling companions from more than 25 years ofEuropean tours. I?ll be sending a birthday greeting to her e-mail addressand I know it will be answered promptly and with  enthusiasm!

--Gale Kramer

Metropolitan Methodist Church, Detroit

New recording

For several decades, Marilyn Mason has enjoyed a singularlydistinguished and influential career as a recitalist and teacher, which hastaken her to major venues throughout the world. No other organist has been asactive as Dr. Mason in commissioning and promoting new music.

Her latest CD, Paul Freeman Introduces Marilyn Mason, consists of three 20th-century organ concertos andthe  William Bolcom?s GospelPreludes, Book Four. Assisting Dr. Mason isthe first-rate Czech National Symphony Orchestra under the able leadership ofthe American conductor Paul Freeman.

The three concertos were recently recorded in Prague?sDvorák Hall in the Rudolfinum on the 1975 Ceskoslovenske hudebninastroje organ, the first four-manual organ in the Czech Republic built withmechanical key action. The concertos include Emma Lou Diemer?s Concertoin One Movement for Organ and Chamber Orchestra (?Alaska?), which was premiered in 1996 at the Universityof Alaska with the composer as soloist. For this reviewer, the main interestlies primarily in the rhythmic vitality and divergent musical references toEskimo, Hassler and Hebrew themes.

Leo Sowerby?s Classic Concerto for Organ andStrings (1949) was played at the 1957International Congress of Organists in London at Westminster Abbey with Dr.Sowerby conducting and Dr. Mason at the Harrison & Harrison 1937instrument. (Mason, along with David Craighead and the late Robert Baker,represented the United States at the congress.) In this sprightlythree-movement work, Sowerby brings the classic form of the concertoharmonically into the 20th century, and certainly with it, romantic overtones.After a half-century it still wears well.

One of the Czech Republic?s leading composers, PetrEben, is represented by the 1982 Organ Concerto No. 2, a work in two sections. Technical demands are madeon the performer to successfully bring off this work; Dr. Mason does it withher usual aplomb.

The Bolcom Three Gospel Preludes are played on New York City?s RiversideChurch?s justifiably acclaimed 216-rank Aeolian-Skinner-Adams-Bufanoinstrument. The three preludes are based on the hymn tunes ?Sometimes IFeel Like a Motherless Child,? ?Sweet Hour of Prayer,? and?O Zion Haste? and ?How Firm a Foundation.? Theseskillfully crafted works, which are performed with great sensitivity by Mason,were recorded in 2003 and produced by Michael Barone for Minnesota PublicRadio?s Pipedreamsbroadcasts.

The CD is available for $15.98 (plus shipping) from theOrgan Historical Society; 804/353-9226;

<www.ohscatalog.org&gt;.

--Robert M. Speed

Robert M. Speed is Professor of the Humanities Emeritus,Grand View College, Des Moines, Iowa.

A tribute to a beloved icon on her 80th birthday

?Set dates come.? This was one of the manywatchwords for life that I learned from my mentor, Dr. Marilyn Mason, all thoseyears ago. On June 29 another wonderful ?set date? willarrive--her 80th birthday, and what a joyous occasion for exuberantcelebration! Of course, those of us who know and love Marilyn are keenly awarethat this legendary lady is totally and completely ageless--that at eightyshe possesses more energy and wit and mental acuity than most forty-somethingscould ever dream of having. Her incredibly successful career continues at fullthrottle. Students from around the world still flock to her door, and they arerewarded with unsurpassed educational, musical and personal experiences thatwill sustain and empower them throughout their careers and lives. Attending oneof her performances or master classes, traveling on her fabulous historic organtours or just spending an hour visiting with Marilyn Mason today is still asinspiring and energizing today as forty years ago. 

Wonderful memories engulf me as I anticipate this special?set date.? A host of Marilyn Mason axioms resurface: ?setdates come; it?s those thin pieces that are hardest; the performanceisn?t over until you?re in the parking lot; the most importantthing is how well you know the music; miss one day of practice and you cantell, two days and your friends can tell, miss three and your entire audiencecan tell; never pass up a chance to visit a restroom,? and countlessothers.

I remember prayers just before going onstage, rolls ofpeppermint Lifesavers backstage at intermission to provide an energy boost forthe second half, and her omnipresent encouragement and support. I rememberstudio classes when, if we urged persistently and strongly enough, Marilynwould sit down and whip off flawless performances of the Alain Dances, theSchoenberg Variations and the Bach D-Major, all at one sitting, by memory, withtotal ease. I remember the historic organ tours, the group recitals in Europe,the joy of being students under Marilyn?s wing again. I remember howMarilyn invited my husband and me to her home for prayers and shared tears overbreakfast when we learned that our dear friend and colleague, Carol Teti, wasdying. I remember the warm hospitality of delicious meals and cozy eveningsspent in Marilyn?s home . . . and always I remember the laughter--thenever-ending supply of wonderful jokes and hilarious true stories she hascollected during a lifetime of optimism and joyous adventure. New generationsof student scholars continue to reap this bounty every year.    

I am Marilyn Mason?s student, and I will always be herstudent; anyone who is privileged to work under Marilyn?s tutelageremains her student for life. Marilyn Mason?s musicianship isunparalleled, her scholarship and intellect are impeccable, and the breadth anddepth of her experiences are endless. However, even more priceless than allthese gifts combined is the example that she sets in every aspect of herprofessional and personal life. Every day of Marilyn?s life is aninspirational example of all that she teaches. She works harder and more energeticallythan most of her students can possibly manage; she demands even more of herselfmusically and personally than the high standards she sets for her students; sheinspires her students to do even better than their best, because she alwaysdoes her best. Marilyn is deeply religious, but instead of preaching, shedemonstrates her faith through her example of flawless ethics and morality, herselfless dedication to service and her genuine respect, tolerance and affectionfor all whose lives she touches. These long years later--after all themusical knowledge and skill, all the professional opportunities, all theteaching methods, performance techniques and tricks-of-the-trade that haveserved me so well throughout my teaching and performing career--it?sthe example that Marilyn sets that has been her greatest gift of all to me. Iam humbled and deeply grateful for the privilege of having studied with MarilynMason, for having my own students go on to earn doctoral degrees with her, andespecially for the honor of calling her my friend.

Happy 80th birthday, Marilyn! Please continue sharing yourimmeasurable gifts and boundless energy with students at The University ofMichigan and with your loyal admirers throughout the world for manyyears--through many ?set dates? to come. I hope I receive thespecial honor of being asked to write a message to you again on your 90th.

--Mary Ida Yost

Mary Ida Yost is Professor Emerita of Music at EasternMichigan University. She received the Master of Music degree at The University ofMichigan in 1964 and the Doctor of Musical Arts degree in 1970, both as astudent of Marilyn Mason.

&R?