New Organs

For the home that has everything

Many organists dream of having a pipe organ at home. It’s a great alternative to schlepping off to church to practice, especially if the church is far away, if it’s a busy building in which it’s hard to find quiet and privacy, or if the church is not heated during midweek and it’s simply too cold to sit in there for any length of time. Having worked with many clients as they purchase pipe organs for their homes, I’ve picked up some insight into what you might consider as you plan a purchase.

Pretty much every day I speak with someone about the cost of pipe organ projects, and I’ve found that the prices of new pianos can be a helpful comparison. I’ve downloaded an “Investment Brochure” from the website of Steinway & Sons that publishes the 2012 price of a new “Model B” (that’s the seven-footer) as $87,500, and the 2012 price of a new “Model D” (the nine-foot “concert grand”) as $137,400. If we round up a little to account for a couple additional years, we might say they’re at $90K and $140K. Not all of us can shell out that kind of money for a piano, but I think this is a good point of reference.

There are two basic and common types of residence pipe organs, two-manual tracker action “practice machines” with at least one voice for each keyboard, and two or three-manual electric or electro-pneumatic “unit” organs with a small number of ranks spread through switching to create a larger number of stops. The latter is typically less expensive, as engineering, construction, and materials are simpler and less expensive. But for the price of that Steinway “B” you can order a brand-new tracker-action practice organ with at least four independent stops. That’s enough organ for serious practice, and for “real” performances of organ music to add to your dinner parties.

I’m well aware of colleagues who have scored real bargains—hearing through the grapevine about an available instrument, and racing off in a rented truck to get it themselves. If you have basic mechanical skills, and if the organ is a good playable condition, you can be successful moving an organ yourself. There are even simple and inexpensive apps available that will help you tune your organ by watching a needle on the screen of your smart phone.

When planning to purchase a used car, many people arrange to take the car to their mechanic and ask him to assess it. You pay the usual hourly rate and receive a professional opinion as to whether it’s a good deal or not. Just because that gorgeous eighteen-year-old Jaguar looks like the car you’ve always dreamed of, you’ll be sorry if you find out the hard way that it has a fatal rust condition, or is running on only eleven cylinders.

In the same way, you can engage a professional organbuilder to give you advice about a purchase, to make suggestions about how to move it, to help you with the assembly at your home, and, I would add, ideally doing the tonal finishing and tuning for you. After all, those are specialized tasks and if you’ve never tuned an organ yourself, you’ll probably not achieve a really musical result.

What does it take?

Just this afternoon I received what I would call the most common type of inquiry regarding a residence organ: “I’ve always wanted to have an organ at home. Do you have anything that doesn’t need much work and doesn’t cost very much?”

I understand that personal budgets might be more limited than those of churches or other larger institutions. But if the price is your principal consideration, I doubt you have much chance for success. A fine pipe organ is a work of art, not a utilitarian machine. You should ask yourself what you hope to achieve. If you simply want two keyboards and pedal with sound coming from each key, you’ll be fine buying the cheapest thing out there. But consider these criteria:

1. If you’re serious about practicing, you should care about the “touch” of the keyboards. Some keyboards have simple spring actions that return the note just fine when you release, but have a dull, insensitive, mushy feel. That would hinder the development of the fine control of your technique. Your keyboards should have a precise clean feel, and if you’re going to develop your control, they must be regulated accurately, both in weight and contact point.

2. The response of windchest actions is just as important as that of the keyboards. Some electro-pneumatic and all-electric actions are sluggish, and while you might perceive that to be slow attack, it’s more common that it’s caused by slow release. A sluggish release hinders the repetition rate and produces a “gummy” feel. Also, some all-electric actions have a characteristic “bounce” on release that leads to actual repetition of a note on release. That will surely mess up your trills!

3. The stability of the wind supply is important to even playing. You may prefer winding that has some motion in it, but in tiny organs, this can be a real nuisance. If the original builder has squeezed a miniature wedge-bellows into the case, there might not be enough air to support the larger pipes. Also, in compact tracker organs, the scale of the windchest might be too small. If key channels and pallets are not adequate, the larger pipes in a stop will not get adequate wind, and you’ll be stuck waiting for them to speak. 

§

My colleague Amory Atkins and I are just back from a trip to Oregon and Idaho during which we finished the installation of two residence organs. The trip was quite an adventure for a couple of lifelong easterners, and while both locations were remote to the extreme, the two projects were very different. One of the organs is a two-manual tracker-action instrument built by Casavant in 1979, the other was built in 1964 by M. P. Möller—the nearly ubiquitous “Double Artiste.” Both organs came from churches for which they were too small, and both are now nicely ensconced in their new homes. And both clients are accomplished attorneys who elected to leave the big cities of California to live quietly in remote locations.

Chillin’ in Coolin

Robert Delsman recently completed building a beautifully appointed Craftsman-style house in Coolin, Idaho, located in the north-pointing “pan-handle” of the state, close to the border with Canada. We shipped the organ from New England in a rented truck. Roughly, the directions are to drive 2,800 miles west on Interstate 90 to Coeur d’Alene (Koor-dah-lane), Idaho, take a right, and drive north 150 miles. Once the organ was delivered, we flew back and forth from Spokane, Washington, which is less than two hours from Coolin by car. The town of Newport, Idaho, is between Spokane and Coolin, so it’s less than an hour’s drive to a real grocery store and the amenities of a mid-size town, but for real shopping, medical care, and other conveniences, Spokane is the nearest place. 

Wikipedia says that Coolin has about 210 residents. When I mentioned that to the proprietor of the Coolin Motel, he said, “Oh no, there aren’t that many people here.” Once you’re in the village, you drive twenty miles further north to get to Robert’s house. The twisting and pitching road is a nice drive in the summer time with plenty of sunlight and fragrant forest and mountain air, but when we were there last winter for the physical setup of the organ, there were two or three inches of hard ice on the road, giving us a difficult white-knuckle drive back and forth to town. Add to that excitement the large population of deer and elk, and you have a lot of chances to get in trouble. The local guys in the Moose Knuckle Bar and Grill told us that the spooky place with treacherous curves high above the surface of Priest Lake is actually the deepest place in the lake.

Robert’s house is on the shore of Priest Lake, with stunning views of forested mountains. It’s beautifully appointed inside with black walnut doors and alder paneling that would be the pride of any organbuilder, all held up by an internal timber frame complete with mortise-and-tenon joints, graceful curves, dovetails, and bow-tie shaped “keys” holding joints together. The organ is in the Great Room, with the console on a balcony facing the two-and-a-half story window overlooking the lake, and the two organ cabinets on nice perches on either side of the console. The blower, static reservoir, and power supply are located about twenty feet away in a lovely hardwood cabinet in the closet of Robert’s bedroom, with windlines laid down and cast into the cement slab that forms the second floor. It’s a beautiful installation, made classy by the skill of the architect and contractor.

The scheme of the Double Artiste is just what the name implies—two independent Möller Artistes, one for each keyboard, played from a two-manual console. Unlike most two-manual unit organs, the two divisions are discrete from each other, with the exception in this case that the Gemshorn of the Swell is also playable on the Great. The Great comprises a Diapason, Rohrflute, and a two-rank Mixture. The Gedeckt is extended to sixteen-foot pitch playable on both Great and Pedal, and each rank is playable at several pitches. The Swell comprises Gedeckt, Viola, Spitzflute, Gemshorn, and Trumpet. The Trumpet extends to 16-foot pitch playable on both Swell and Pedal and again, each rank is playable at several pitches.

Those organists toiling in the vineyards of symphonic music will benefit greatly from having two independent expression enclosures in their home practice organ.

Entering Enterprise

Stephen Adams lives in Enterprise, Oregon, the seat of Wallowa County. With over 1,900 residents, Enterprise is a much larger community than Coolin, but it’s more remote. It’s about a four-hour drive across prairie and ranch land from Spokane, and just as far from Boise, Idaho. Lewiston, Idaho, and Clarkston, Washington (get it, Lewis and Clark?) are on the Snake River just about halfway from Spokane to Enterprise, but that’s it. Leaving Lewiston on our way to Stephen’s house, we followed a nearly empty school bus on a forty-five minute route across that rugged terrain.

Stephen’s home is less than ten minutes outside town, but since the town is so remote, the place is in the middle of nowhere. It’s an old established farm/ranch with a Music House right by the gravel road, and the main house isolated by trees and landscape, up on a hillside remote from the road. The Casavant organ, with eleven stops and fourteen ranks, came from a closed Roman Catholic Church in Wyoming, Pennsylvania (near Scranton and Wilkes-Barre). It endured its own long ride on Route 90, and the ride from Lewiston to Enterprise includes a particularly challenging road from high elevations to river valleys including dramatic switchback curves and steep grades. Organ Clearing House drivers had a special challenge to “keep the shiny side up” that time.

The Music House was already home to two Steinway pianos. The Casavant organ replaces a unit organ by Balcom & Vaughan, completing the fleet for Stephen, who is, later in life, a very serious student of keyboard playing. He travels to the east coast for “binge” sessions of organ lessons, and practices many hours a day, working to satisfy a lifelong goal. He has a strong interest in the music of the Baroque era and earlier, and this fine tracker-action organ with precise, sensitive key action and sprightly voicing is just the ticket.

Be your own boss.

In 1987, I was working for Angerstein & Associates in Stoughton, Massachusetts. It was a nice place to work—a large, airy space with wood floors in an old mill building with lots of equipment. While I was there, we had a deep pit dug through the concrete floor of the large lower room, which increased the available height for erecting organs by about eight feet. It was an unusual setup in that you had to climb down to work on keydesk and ground-level action, but it was fun to “walk the plank” across from the main floor to the impost level of the organ. Loading pipes into an organ was a breeze.

We completed several fun projects in my three years there, and I have lasting friendships with co-workers, but the fun ended in 1987 when Daniel Angerstein accepted the appointment as tonal director for M. P. Möller, Inc., and decided to close the workshop. As I had been doing much of the organ maintenance work for the company, Daniel and I made a deal allowing me to continue that work as an independent organ builder. The service work continued without interruption for the clients, and I was off on my own.

§

Loyal readers of The Diapason will remember that I’m a fan of the genre of historical fiction involving the exploits of the British Navy during the Napoleonic Wars. My favorites are the epic tales by Patrick O’Brien known as the Aubrey/Maturin series comprising nineteen novels, and the eleven book series by C. S. Forrester known as the Hornblower novels. I love the accurate description of the techniques of handling and equipping those ships, and am fascinated by the deep character development possible in such extended stories.

I have all of them as audio books, and just as some people listen to the same recording of music repeatedly, I enjoy listening again, sometimes to a particular passage, sometimes through a whole series from beginning to end.

Forrester’s Captain Horatio Hornblower seems to be modeled after Lord Viscount Admiral Horatio Nelson, the heroic real-life officer responsible for Britain’s great naval victory at Trafalgar. Throughout the series, Hornblower struggles against his personal weaknesses, from seasickness (which affected Nelson horribly in real life) to fear and trepidation—all characteristics unbecoming a naval officer. As my relationship with Captain Hornblower has developed, I’ve singled out two contradictory quotations that define the responsibilities of authority, and by extension resonate deeply with me as a self-employed worker.

In one installment, Hornblower is in a French prison after his ship, The Sutherland, was defeated in a battle in which it had been outnumbered four-to-one by ships of the French navy. He imagined that he would be executed by Napoleon, and in the agony of this confinement he relives an earlier period of imprisonment that had occurred before he reached the rank of Captain: 

“In those days, too, he had never known the freedom of his own quarterdeck, and never tasted the unbounded liberty—the widest freedom on earth—of being a captain of a ship.”

At another moment in his career, he is thinking about his coxswain Brown (we never learn Brown’s first name). Hornblower admires and envies Brown for his powerful physique, his natural cheerfulness, and his unbridled courage—all attributes that Hornblower lacks. He reflects on the relative ease of the life of an ordinary sailor (tar, swab), who is subject to the absolute authority of his superiors, and “never knows the indignity of indecision.”

I’m amused and perhaps informed by the idea that serving as a naval captain, or being the owner of a business, is either an incredible freedom, or the road to ignominy. Truth is, it’s a mixture of the two, see-sawing from day to day and from project to project. What a ride. 

David Fienen is Emeritus Professor of Music at Gustavus Adolphus College, St. Peter, Minnesota. At Gustavus, he was Cantor at Christ Chapel, taught organ, music theory, chaired the music department, and served as provost and dean of the college his last two years before retirement.

Sitting under a shade tree in his backyard last summer, sipping iced tea with Charles and Birgitta Hendrickson, I asked him about his philosophy of organ building. His immediate answer was, “If I can make them [the congregation] sing, I have succeeded.” To make them sing—what a fine goal!

First a physicist

Minnesota native Charles Hendrickson grew up in Willmar, Minnesota, where his father had a law practice. During Charles’s young years, his father, Roy, was also chair of the board of trustees at Gustavus Adolphus College (Roy’s alma mater) in St. Peter, Minnesota, from 1945–53. After Roy passed away in 1954, Charles’s mother, Frances, was hired as secretary to President Edgar Carlson at Gustavus from 1955–ca. 1967. Charles had already started his college career at Gustavus, and now the rest of his family moved to St. Peter. In 1957, Charles graduated from Gustavus with a Bachelor of Arts degree in physics and mathematics. It is interesting that he is not the only organbuilder with a physics background—Charles Fisk worked for Robert Oppenheimer on the Manhattan Project before he began building organs.

After college, Hendrickson started graduate studies at the University of Minnesota for one year, then taught physics at Superior State Teachers College (now University of Wisconsin-Superior, Superior, Wisconsin) for a year. He earned his Master of Science degree in physics at the University of Arkansas while also teaching for a year at Union University in Jackson, Tennessee (and serving as head of the department!). He also taught at Northeast State University in Oklahoma before returning to Minnesota to teach physics at Mankato State College (now Minnesota State University Mankato) for a couple of years.

In 1964, Charles married Birgitta Gillberg at Gamla Uppsala Church in Sweden. Birgitta, a native of Sweden, was teaching Swedish at Gustavus at that time. She continued teaching at Gustavus until Eric was born in 1967. She then returned to her academic career in 1975, teaching Swedish and German at Minnesota State University Mankato for 30 years until her retirement.

Hendrickson Organ Company: Beginnings

Hendrickson’s interest in the pipe organ began early in his young life, in 1953, when he watched with fascination as the Möller organ was rebuilt and reinstalled at Bethel Lutheran Church in Willmar. Harry Iverson, who was the Möller representative, supervised the regulation and work at the church, and Hendrickson got involved as a “gopher.” Iverson had previously been the Kimball representative and had designed the Minneapolis Auditorium Kimball organ. During graduate school, Hendrickson followed up on this early interest by working on organs (servicing, repairing, moving, tuning) on a part-time basis.

In 1964, Charles Hendrickson was asked to rebuild and significantly enlarge the 1910 Hillgreen-Lane organ in First Lutheran Church in Winthrop, Minnesota, by the pastor of the church, who was a family friend. Pastor Lambert Engwall had talked his congregation into undertaking the project to enlarge the organ in the church, had raised the money for the project, and convinced Hendrickson to tackle this project. As it was already part way through spring semester, Hendrickson resigned his teaching position at Mankato State and thus committed himself to being an organbuilder.

Several interesting things about this instrument, Opus 1, produced by the nascent Hendrickson Organ Company, are worth noting:

• The Swell division consists of pipes from the previous instrument, with new Hauptwerk, Positief, and Pedal divisions. The casework was mostly new to house the new organ.

• The Positief division was housed in its own case cantilevered on the balcony rail—in Rückpositiv position. This was the first Rückpositiv built in Minnesota.

• Hendrickson rented space in the empty Green Giant canning plant in Winthrop to build the organ with three helpers. (This is reminiscent of how older organ builders like Schnitger operated—building on site or at least in the vicinity of the church.)

• The new pipes added to this organ came from Organ Supply.

• Composer David N. Johnson, then on the faculty of St. Olaf College, played the dedication recital in September 1965.

• In 1982, Hendrickson added two mutations and swapped out two flute ranks, bringing the instrument to 36 ranks.

At about the same time, Hendrickson was asked by his home congregation, First Lutheran Church in St. Peter, Minnesota, to build a “temporary” organ for their new sanctuary then under construction to replace the church that had been destroyed by lightning on Mother’s Day in 1962. He readily complied by assembling a two-manual, eight-rank instrument, partly from salvaged materials. The outstanding acoustics of the building helped this small instrument to be amazingly successful, and it also included a horizontal trumpet! This temporary instrument, Opus 2, installed in 1965, remained in the church longer than expected. It was not replaced until his Opus 45 was completed in 1979, a two-manual, 44-rank instrument with a third coupler keyboard.

Opus 3 was another enlargement project, this time resulting in a two-manual, 30-rank instrument at Grace Lutheran Church, Mankato, Minnesota, using some ranks, offset chests, blower, and console from the previous two-manual, nine-rank M. P. Möller organ built for Grace Lutheran’s previous building. This instrument was also subsequently expanded in 1992 by adding a new Great division, horizontal trumpet, new three-manual console, and other tonal and mechanical revisions (Opus 86, three manuals, 41 ranks).

From these beginnings of the Hendrickson Organ Company in 1964, there followed several new instruments, including Opus 6, of two manuals, eight ranks, at St. John Lutheran Church in Yankton, South Dakota, and Opus 9, of two manuals, 24 ranks, at Blessed Sacrament Catholic Church in La Crosse, Wisconsin, plus more revisions, enlargements, and rebuilds, leading up to Opus 10 in 1970. Interestingly, the Yankton instrument, a larger version of Opus 2, came about because Harold Spitznagel was the architect of both First Lutheran Church in St. Peter (which housed Hendrickson Opus 2) and of St. John Lutheran Church in Yankton (Opus 6). The Yankton instrument originally contained only eight ranks, later enlarged to 12 after a fire in the church in 2009.

It is worthwhile to look further at the early influences on Hendrickson. He is largely a self-taught organbuilder, learning by experience, by voracious reading, and from the influences of Russ Johnson (an acoustician) and Robert Noehren (an organbuilder, performer, and teacher himself). Around the time Hendrickson was starting to build his Opus 1 and Opus 2, he met Robert Noehren at the Central Lutheran Organ Symposium in Minneapolis. From Noehren he became convinced to use primarily all-electric action when building electric-action instruments. And from Noehren, he learned the concepts of judicious borrowing and duplexing to retain clarity in the resulting organ while realizing some economies of budget and space. His Opus 1 at Winthrop used electro-pneumatic chests for the Great and Swell, but all-electric for the Positief. Subsequently, he primarily (though not exclusively) used all-electric chests when building non-mechanical-action instruments.

The Hendrickson factory

The year 1970 saw a new chapter unfold. Hendrickson was contacted by William Kuhlman, professor of organ, to build a new organ for Luther College in Decorah, Iowa. Most of his work prior to this time had been accomplished in his basement, garage, rented facilities, or on site. Now, in order to have a tall erecting room, he took the plunge, purchased land in the industrial park in St. Peter, and built the first part of his organ factory, including in the center a tall room where he could set up this two-story instrument. The organ for Luther College, Opus 10, of two manuals, 35 ranks, was his first mechanical-action instrument. 

This organ was intended as a teaching, practice, and performance instrument, and was built on a movable platform like a hovercraft so it could move to a neighboring room. Subsequently, it was relocated to a permanent teaching studio on the campus, the floating mechanism disabled, and an electric-action, unified trumpet rank on the Great was reinstalled as an 8′ horizontal reed, playable from the mechanical action. Due to heavy use, the keyboards have been replaced twice on this instrument.

The original factory consisted of a tall central erecting room, with the office in the back as an upstairs room, and two flanking rooms for wood work, pipe set up, and voicing. The equipment included the voicing machine originally built by Vogelpohl & Spaeth in New Ulm, Minnesota, in the late 19th century. Over the years, a sizeable building was added behind the original shop, including an assembly room and new voicing room, with the earlier flanking rooms repurposed. Later still, another former business building was moved to adjoin the addition, becoming the office, drafting studio, and library storage for the extensive collection of books and organ journals kept close at hand. (Hendrickson has every issue of The Diapason since 1913, and of The American Organist since 1929!) A large warehouse was added next door for much-needed storage and to house the spray booth. Interestingly, after a tornado struck in 1998, both this author and the Gustavus chaplain rented space in the warehouse to store all of our furniture while our houses were being rebuilt. More recently, a disastrous fire in November 2013 engulfed the original shop building. (Andreas Hendrickson, Charles’s younger son, designed a replacement shop building, which has been recently completed.) Fortunately, the added buildings were separated enough that they were not damaged, and no organs were destroyed except for some wood pipes, machinery, and some supplies. 

With Opus 10 for Luther College, Hendrickson began building mechanical-action instruments, either with mechanical stop action or electric stop action. A significant portion of the organs built by the firm feature mechanical action. When asked, Hendrickson expressed his preference for this type of action “just because I like it.” He also indicated he felt such instruments are “very satisfying” and provide the “best possible solution.” But Hendrickson indicated that throughout his career, he particularly wanted to “satisfy a need.” This is a most salient point—he set out to provide a good musical instrument for a wide variety of situations, large and small, and while his preference would be a tracker organ, sometimes placement, finances, or other considerations necessitated using electric action. If that were the case, he set out to make it the best it could be. Not infrequently, his project working with a church to improve their musical resources would also involve redesigning either the chancel or the balcony to facilitate placement of the new instrument and the location of the choir and/or the liturgical appointments.

During the half-century so far of the Hendrickson Organ Company, the firm has been involved in a wide variety of organ projects, building large and very small instruments, restoring, rebuilding, and expanding both historic instruments and some of their own, adding single divisions and/or replacing consoles—a variety of, as Charles said, “solving problems” for particular situations and congregations. To comment on each of the many projects (opus numbers) undertaken by the Hendrickson Organ Company would occupy far more space than is possible here; instead, a summary is presented, featuring a few interesting examples. 

Mechanical-action instruments

There are 27 mechanical-action organs on the Hendrickson opus list, ranging from a practice instrument with one 8′ flute for each of two manuals and pedal (Opus 33) to his largest instrument at Wayzata Community Church in Wayzata, Minnesota (Opus 92, four manuals, 70 ranks). The Wayzata instrument is unusual in that it incorporates a large Paul Granlund bronze sculpture in the middle of the façade.

Other sizable mechanical-action organs include Opus 47, a three-manual, 43-rank organ in St. Wenceslaus Catholic Church, New Prague, Minnesota, and Opus 35, a three-manual, 59-rank instrument at Sts. Peter and Paul Catholic Church, Mankato, Minnesota. These large instruments have mechanical key and stop action. The New Prague instrument leans toward a French Classic style, though not exclusively. The later Opus 78, of three manuals, 62 ranks, at St. Joseph Cathedral in Sioux Falls, South Dakota, utilizes a multi-channel electric stop action. It was also an instrument of a more complex design because of its size and the necessity for a detached keydesk. Hendrickson also had to redesign the gallery choir risers to accommodate the new organ. All three of these instruments were placed in rear balconies, and the Mankato and New Prague installations feature Rückpositiv divisions.

While most of Hendrickson’s two-manual mechanical-action instruments contain between 12 and 29 ranks, the largest is Opus 45, a two-manual, 44-rank instrument completed in 1979 at Hendrickson’s own church, First Lutheran Church, St. Peter, Minnesota. This instrument finally replaced the “temporary” Opus 2 that he had built nearly 15 years earlier. The organ features a horizontal trumpet on the Great (as had Opus 2) but also includes a trumpet within the case for that division. For this instrument, Hendrickson used a chassis from Laukhuff, Pedal division façade pipes made of aluminum, and a third manual as a coupler manual. This instrument is housed in an excellent acoustical environment and is a particularly successful installation. Marie-Claire Alain examined the organ upon completion and played the dedication recital.

In addition to these full-size tracker organs, the company built five portative organs consisting of one manual (no pedal) with 8′ flute, 4′ flute, and 2′  principal stops. The first such instrument was built for the St. Olaf Choir (Opus 16) and was intended to be able to be transported in a regular coach bus (with a couple of seats removed). To fit that size, the instrument has a short octave in the bass (lacking C#, D#, F#, and G#) and the compass is an octave shorter in the treble than a normal 61-note compass. In addition, the keyboard folds down inside the case, thus fitting through a bus door (at least back in the early 1970s). The stops are divided between bass and treble. The blower is also enclosed in the case, which is mounted on casters and has handles for ease in lifting and moving it around. After a second version was ordered by the Rockford Kantorei in Rockford, Illinois (Opus 18), three more instruments were built—“for every board we cut, we cut three.” These instruments eventually found their way to the University of Wisconsin in River Falls, Wisconsin (Opus 30), Concordia College in Moorhead, Minnesota (Opus 81), and Gustavus Adolphus College in St. Peter, Minnesota (Opus 72a). The organs are principally used for continuo playing.

Electric-action instruments

The Hendrickson opus list includes nearly 60 electric-action instruments. Thirty of these projects involved organs with fewer than 20 ranks, most incorporating at least some borrowing or duplexing, using the ideas Hendrickson had acquired from Robert Noehren. Many of these instruments use all-electric chests, as mentioned above. However, for Opus 60, a two-manual, 19-rank organ built for First Lutheran Church in Glencoe, Minnesota, the builder used slider chests with electric pull-downs. The largest two-manual electric-action instrument is Opus 25, of two manuals, 38 ranks, installed in First Lutheran Church, St. James, Minnesota (another instrument with a horizontal trumpet).

A dozen three-manual instruments (and one four-manual) contain 30 to 54 ranks. Beginning with Opus 1 (three manuals, 34 ranks), the list includes many significant enlargements of instruments by Möller, Aeolian-Skinner, Austin, Hillgreen-Lane, and Schantz, the largest being the expansion of a 1961 Schlicker (three manuals, 32 ranks) as Hendrickson Opus 100 (three manuals, 54 ranks) for Our Savior’s Lutheran Church, Sioux Falls, South Dakota. Two notable large all-new instruments are Opus 51 (three manuals, 46 ranks) at St. Mark Catholic Church in St. Paul, Minnesota, and Opus 34 (three manuals, 51 ranks) at St. John’s Lutheran in Owatonna, Minnesota (yet another organ with a dramatic horizontal trumpet). The Owatonna instrument also uses pallet and slider chests with electric pulldowns.

What is clear from all these instruments is that Charles Hendrickson and the many workers over the years in the shop were interested in creating or improving musical instruments that would “make them sing,” whether in the big city or the small country church. Hendrickson always endeavored to learn from the past, from his own experience, and from the lessons the industry had learned, whether from books or from his colleagues in the business. He was not interested in modeling after a particular style or a particular period, nor was he dogmatic about actions or particular stops, but was focused on a clear, singing tone and satisfying the particular needs of a group of people assembled in a specific congregation.

Rebuilds, restorations, and
renovations of 19th– and early 20th-century organs

The company website (www.hendricksonorgan.com) lists over 116 opus numbers. They include more than two dozen rebuilds, renovations, and restorations, notably:

• Rebuilding and enlarging the 1862 Marklove organ in the Cathedral of Our Merciful Savior in Faribault, Minnesota (Opus 70, two manuals, 34 ranks), using many of the original pipes—possibly the oldest pipes in Minnesota;

• Rebuilding two other late 19th-century organs, one by Hutchings, Plaisted & Co. (Opus 40, two manuals, 21 ranks), and the 1896 Kimball tubular pneumatic instrument located in the Union Sunday School in Clermont, Iowa (Opus 51a, two manuals, 27 ranks). The latter is the largest remaining tubular-pneumatic Kimball in original condition;

• Restoring, rebuilding, or revising several early 20th-century instruments by Hinners, Hillgreen-Lane, Kimball, Estey, and Vogelpohl & Spaeth (a late 19th/early 20th-century Minnesota builder);

• Maintaining, revising, and renovating the large four-manual, 52-rank Hillgreen-Lane organ in Christ Chapel at Gustavus Adolphus College in St. Peter, Minnesota, especially after the 1998 tornado severely damaged the entire campus and community. Organ repairs included cleaning all reeds, re-racking pipes, building a new Great chest, and replacing the keyboards;

• Rescuing Hendrickson Opus 53 (two manuals, 27 ranks) that was housed in St. Peter Catholic Church, which was destroyed by the same tornado. This mechanical-action organ was later used as part of the much larger instrument (Opus 99, three manuals, 40 ranks) designed by Andreas Hendrickson for the new church;

• Rebuilding and moving a much-altered 1931 Aeolian-Skinner (Opus 877) to a church in Arkansas in 1990 (Opus 88, three manuals, 30 ranks), then, after that church had closed, moving the instrument and reinstalling it at Celebration Lutheran Church in Sartell, Minnesota, in 2009 (Opus 115, three manuals, 35 ranks).

Hendrickson as author

From his beginnings in academe, Hendrickson never lost his inquisitive mind or his desire to share what he had learned. An active member of the Associated Pipe Organ Builders of America (APOBA) and the American Institute of Organbuilders, he served as president of APOBA for about 8 years. During that time, he arranged for the organization to commence sponsoring Pipedreams on American Public Media and oversaw the statement APOBA produced regarding “sampled voices” in pipe organs.

A large undertaking by Hendrickson was a long series of articles he wrote, mainly for The American Organist. These included articles on families of tone, divisions of the organ, tonal architecture, pipe materials, and a host of other relevant topics. The Hendrickson Organ Company website lists and links to 46 of these articles written between 1976 and 2003. [http://www.enchamade.com/hendricksonorgan/wb/pages/articles.php]

More recently, Hendrickson returned to his physics roots by collaborating on a research project with Dr. Tom Huber and some of his students at Gustavus Adolphus College. A summary of their study, “Vibrational Modes of an Organ Reed Pipe,” can be accessed at http://physics.gac.edu/~Huber/organs/vibrometer/ and an abstract of Huber’s Faculty Shop Talk about the project can be found at https://gustavus.edu/events/shoptalks/Shop0304.htm.

The future

Charles Hendrickson has retired from active involvement in the work of the Hendrickson Organ Company. The enterprise continues under the leadership of his two sons, Andreas and Eric. Andreas, who holds an architecture degree from the University of Minnesota, is in charge of design, while his older brother, Eric, is head of installations, tuning, and service. Andreas also called on his architecture background to design the rebuilding of the portion of the shop lost to the November 2013 fire. The company services many of their own instruments, plus numerous other instruments around Minnesota and neighboring states. The brothers grew up in the organ factory and learned many of their skills from their father. Thus a new generation is continuing the process of building, rebuilding, and repairing pipe organs in this small town in southern Minnesota. ν

References

Bies, Jessica. “PORTRAITS: Sons of St. Peter pipe organ maker continue Hendrickson legacy,” St. Peter Herald, March 27, 2014. www.southernminn.com/st_peter_herald/news/article_bb355bf8-3aea-55a2-b9…

Hendrickson Organ Company website: http://hendricksonorgan.com

Huber, Tom, Brian Collins, Charles Hendrickson, and Mario Pineda. “Vibrational Modes of an Organ Reed Pipe.” Presentation for Acoustical Society of America Meeting, November 2003. http://physics.gustavus.edu/~huber/organs/

Interviews with Charles Hendrickson in June and July, 2016, plus several phone conversations.

Organ Historical Society Pipe Organ Database: database.organsociety.org

TCAGO Pipe Organ List: http://www.pipeorganlist.com/OrganList/index.html

Vance, Daniel. “Hendrickson Organ Company.” Connect Business Magazine, July 1999, Mankato, Minnesota. http://connectbiz.com/1999/07/hendrickson-organ-company/

In memory of Jane Slaughter Hardenbergh

Samford University began life as Howard College. For those interested in its history, a Google search will produce details of its fascinating history in a turbulent part of the country. When the Aeolian-Skinner pipe organ was purchased, it was still Howard College after 100+ years.

In 1958, Howard College contacted Aeolian-Skinner to build a three-manual instrument of 42 ranks to be installed in Reid Chapel. This organ was to be the primary teaching instrument and accompany the active life of the chapel. By the close of 1961, the pipe organ was installed. Depending upon one’s viewpoint, the pipe organ was fortunately, or unfortunately, designed during Joseph Whiteford’s tenure at Aeolian-Skinner. At this period of time in organbuilding, many organbuilders were trying to bring more “clarity” to their instruments. To achieve this clarity, eight-foot foundational tone was decreased, while four-foot tone and higher pitches were emphasized. At Reid Chapel, this was accomplished by tapering the pipes of the manual eight-foot open flues, along with a decrease in scale compared to the four-foot pipes above. In general, the principal chorus scaling is turned upside down from historical practice. The flute stops gained articulation—chiff—in the belief that this also helps clarity. The chorus reeds were among the smallest scales Aeolian-Skinner built, while the color reeds, at this point, were standard baroque reeds that had been built for many years already. Ironically, the strings had lost their edge and tended to blandness. In general, the cut-ups of the flue pipes were also very low, even when the wind pressure was taken into consideration.

Another interesting twist at Reid Chapel is that the Choir division is, in reality, an enclosed Positiv. Needless to say, the wind pressure was but a mere breath. With that being said, for its period, it was a very successful instrument. The pipe organ was capable of playing a large part of the repertoire with reasonable accuracy. Mechanically, it was typical Aeolian-Skinner: first class. Visually, the pipe organ made a dramatic statement in the chapel. This is how the instrument remained when we first saw it.

In the year 2010, change was afoot. The instrument had been releathered several years before and was soldiering on. The change came in the way of Firmon Hardenbergh of Birmingham, Alabama. Hardenbergh’s wife, Jane (Slaughter), had passed away recently and he wanted to do something in her memory. Jane Slaughter was for many years the organist at Reid Chapel and was the person who chose Aeolian-Skinner those many years before. Hardenbergh decided that Reid Chapel would be an ideal expression as a memorial. He consulted with Barry Norris, also of Birmingham, who suggested Quimby Pipe Organs. Hardenbergh then called Nelson Barden for his thoughts, and Barden agreed that Quimby Pipe Organs was a good choice. Michael Quimby and I flew to Birmingham to meet with Firmon Hardenbergh and Dr. Ted Tibbs to investigate what would be a fitting memorial gift. After talking with Firmon and exploring the Aeolian-Skinner, it was thought that the most fitting tribute would be a general revoicing with the addition of color stops that earlier Aeolian-Skinners were known for. This would entail new stop jambs for the console, so the decision was also made to thoroughly modernize the switching system.

This brings us to today, and a description of what happened to Opus 1384. In early 2011, all of the pipework was removed, along with the pouch boards and bottom boards of two stops that were borrowed to the Pedal, but would become unit stops. Once the material was in our shop, all of the pipework was repaired and cleaned, and construction of the new windchests and pipes commenced. 

Quimby Pipe Organs has been blessed to have the Aeolian-Skinner pipe shop scale book and quite a few pipe patterns in our possession. This is a tremendous help to match appropriate scales when making additions to Aeolian-Skinners. We also possess the personal ledger books of G. L. Beaudry, who was the pipe shop foreman from 1930 to the early 1960s. The ledger books offer a fascinating evolution from E. M. Skinner, through G. Donald Harrison, and ending with Whiteford. Resources such as these allow us to scale new pipework as Aeolian-Skinner would have scaled them. Amazingly, only two stops changed position—the 4′ Gemshorn, which was in the Swell division, and the 4′ Principal, which was in the Choir division. The 4′ Gemshorn was in reality a Spitz Principal, so it made perfect sense for it to be in the Choir (Positiv, actually). When the pipework was ready for the voicing machine, some decisions had to be made. As a voicer, I am a firm believer in variable cut-ups as opposed to variable scaling. Far more good (and harm) can be done by cut-ups than variable scaling can account for, though variable scaling has its place. 

The Great 8′ Principal received the most attention. The cut-ups were raised rather severely to achieve warmth in the bass, while the treble pipes of this stop were untouched. This turned out to be the general theme throughout the flue revoicing. Having large cut-ups in the bass allows the power to be maintained without resorting to beards or other means to achieve proper speech, while low cut-ups in the treble allow the clarity to be maintained. Nicking of the pipes was deepened in the bass and added to the treble pipes. The blower had ample reserve, so this was possible without changing the blower. Increasing cut-ups and adding nicking increase the wind requirements, so we had to be sure the blower had the capacity even though the wind pressures were not changed. This theme was carried throughout the flue work, to increase the warmth in the bass while maintaining the incisiveness of the trebles. Except for the Holz Gedeckt on the Great, the articulation (chiff) was removed. With the Holz Gedeckt we felt some articulation should remain, which lends a buoyancy to its tone. The Swell Violes were increased in power and re-bearded to put some edge into their tone. Since the Principals were no longer borderline Violes, the Violes should now become strings and not Geigen Principals.

Also notable are the Mixtures. Though the Mixtures were scaled correctly, they were voiced to dominate the ensemble. The quint ranks were as loud as the unison ranks, which added a reedy tone to the ensemble. Fortunately, the cut-ups were quite low, allowing the pipes to be softened. The quint ranks are now approximately 20% softer than the unison ranks, which brings the Mixture into proper balance. The Mixtures now cap the ensemble instead of dominating the ensemble.

The reeds, what to do with the reeds? Our initial thoughts were to increase the scale of the chorus reeds to the next larger Aeolian-Skinner scale, since there was room on the chest to do this. The fly in the ointment was the Pedal reed, since it is so prominently displayed in the façade. Once the reeds were in the shop, I decided to try some samples with new tongues and the decision was made to keep the old resonators and to re-tongue the chorus reeds. Doing this, we were able to make the sound warmer yet still retain the “bite” that is distinctly Aeolian-Skinner. The Choir Cromorne was also re-tongued to be a cross between a Krummhorn, which it was, and a Clarinet. The Rohr Schalmei was rather nice to begin with, and therefore only the curve of the tongue was tweaked. The former Dulzian, on the other hand, saw the greatest change. As installed in the pipe organ, it was little more than a buzz-saw that would not stay in tune. As built, this stop was a half-length Fagotto with English Horn shallots. At the very beginning, the resonators from 8′ F-sharp up were removed, and full-length Fagotto resonators made and soldered on. Once this was done, I started to voice some samples, fully expecting that the shallots would need to be changed also. After some experimentation, the sound we wanted was there. The Fagotto now sounds like an Aeolian-Skinner Fagotto, with just a bit more brightness. The bottom 18 notes were obviously re-tongued to bring out the typical Fagotto tone.

This brings us to the additions. Since the Great Mixture lost its reedy quality, a Trumpet on the Great was needed. This Trumpet was built using the next larger Aeolian-Skinner scale than the Swell Trompette. Typical Aeolian-Skinner French shallots were also used. This produced a reed with a little more foundation than the Swell Trompette, yet still with some “bite”—a perfect complement to the Great Chorus. The Choir division received a Flauto Dolce and Celeste. These two stops are from E. M. Skinner Opus 404, and are exactly what one would expect from E. M. Skinner. Finally, the Choir is more than a Positiv. The Choir division also received a Harp, which is unenclosed beneath the Great. Dare I say it, this stop is actually a Wurlitzer Chrysoglott. In its buried position, it is quite delightful. Another new stop is the Great 8′ Harmonic Flute. This stop from 4′ C is part of the façade. It flanks both Great windchests and adds a bit more interest to the display. This stop is Aeolian-Skinner’s “Great Type” and is voiced with considerable treble ascendancy. It also has open pipes to low C. Chimes were also added. Now if we only had a Vox Humana, the Holy Trinity would be there: Chimes, Harp, and Vox (the three stops to put money in the offering plate, as the saying goes).

One final addition had special meaning for Firmon though. For many years, Firmon attended Independent Presbyterian Church in Birmingham. One of his favorite stops was the 4′ Flute Triangulaire. As fate would have it, IPC was acquiring a new Dobson organ during this period and we purchased many of the old ranks that Dobson was not going to re-use. When Firmon heard of this, he asked about the Triangle Flute. We said we had it, and it was going to Reid Chapel. Except for adjusting to the change in wind pressure, it is as he heard it in IPC. When Firmon first heard this stop, it brought tears to his eyes, and made the whole project worthwhile.

The story does not end here though. This fall, two “prepared for” stops are being added. The first is an actual Bourdon stop to the Pedal, which, like St. John the Divine, New York City, was conspicuously lacking. The second is an extension of the 16′ Bombarde to 32′ pitch. This stop is partly full-length and half-length due to the fact that it will become a major part of the façade. Sometimes space and visual effect overcome idealism.

If you are ever in Birmingham, please visit Reid Chapel at Samford University. We think you will like what you hear. Also, do find Bogue’s Restaurant; you won’t be disappointed.

A church musician’s perspective on the Boston Marathon bombings

On April 15th, tragedy marred the famed Boston Marathon when two bombs went off at the finish line. Three people were killed and 260 persons injured. Over the next week the nation was transfixed by news of the investigation and manhunt that culminated in the unprecedented lock-down of a major metropolitan area. Many still struggle to make sense of these terrible events. Richard Webster, director of music and organist of Trinity Church, Copley Square, Boston, ran the Boston Marathon, completing the race moments before the blasts. His story provides a compelling context for how church musicians can respond to disaster with hope. 

Jason Overall: What is your background as a runner?

Richard Webster: I started running around 1980 when I quit smoking. At first I couldn’t run around the block without collapsing in a heap, but I found running to be a cleansing distraction from nicotine craving. Eventually, regular running became a habit. I completed my first marathon in 1995 at age 43. I had read a book on marathon training and followed its instructions. As race day approached, I was not overly confident that I could run 26 miles, but I did it. Crossing the finish line was like walking through the gates of heaven. I was hooked. The race I ran this year in Boston was my 25th marathon. With adequate training, anyone can run a marathon. Runners come in all shapes and sizes. 

How often do you run marathons?

Usually two a year—Chicago in October and Boston in April. I run Chicago in order to qualify for Boston, an elite race open to those who have run a previous marathon under a certain time, based on your age. I turned 60 just prior to the 2012 Chicago race, which meant that my qualifying time for Boston went up by 10 minutes. As my husband says, “you don’t have to get faster, just older.” 

Have you found a spiritual dimension to running?

Absolutely. I empathize with those who call the great outdoors their “church.” Being in the glory of nature, even on a bad day, doing what God designed your body to do, is hard to top. If your body is the “temple of the Holy Spirit,” then exercise of any kind is basic housekeeping. There is a deep spiritual component to running. As Eric Liddel said in his Chariots of Fire sermon, “When I run, I feel God’s pleasure.” For me, running is meditation. As a composer, some of my best ideas result from a long run when the mind is receptive, empty. I never run with music, earbuds, or paraphernalia. I love the silence. My footfalls and the wind in my ears are music enough. 

What is a typical weekly schedule for your running?

I would love to run daily, but a church musician’s schedule is so wonky that some days it just doesn’t happen. If I put it in my calendar, like a rehearsal, then I’m more likely to do it. I try to run four to six times a week. A day or two off each week is good. Your body needs to rest, repair and restore itself. In the months leading up to a marathon, one long run a week (8 to 20 miles) is key.

Are there parallels between running and musicianship? Has your musicianship benefitted from running?

Exercise, especially the aerobic kind, increases blood flow. More blood through the brain improves concentration, something vital to musicians. Running has increased my stamina in general. This week I’ve been directing the Grand Rapids Choir of Men and Boys in recording sessions for a new CD. I stand for hours, waving my arms, doing all I can to help this fine choir achieve its best. I don’t tire. Being a distance runner steels you. It gives you endurance.

What were your expectations before this year’s Boston Marathon?

The best day of the entire year in Boston is Patriots’ Day, the third Monday in April, commemorating Boston’s role as the cradle of the Revolution. It’s the day of the Boston Marathon, the world’s oldest and most prestigious marathon, something our city is rightly proud of. As a state holiday, businesses and schools are closed. Everyone has the day off. From the starting line in Hopkinton to the finish line in Copley Square, throngs turns out to cheer the runners and enjoy the race. It’s a 26-mile long party. On Patriots’ Day Boston truly becomes that “city on a hill” for all the world to see. The energy, enthusiasm and electricity flowing back and forth between the runners and the fans is hard to describe. It’s like really good church. I find it to be incredibly spiritual.

I usually run marathons in costume. It’s more fun and it jazzes up the fans. Kids particularly love it. I’ve run as the Easter Bunny, Paul Revere, Abraham Lincoln (in 2009 for his 200th birthday), Robin, J. S. Bach (to raise funds for the Bach Week Festival in Chicago), Robin Hood, Cat in the Hat, and a bumble bee. This year, to raise funds for the Trinity Boston Foundation, we held a costume contest. “See Richard run . . . as an Angry Bird, the Pope, or Prince William.” Votes were cast by making contributions to the Foundation. Prince William won handily. The costume was handsome—a red military jacket and sash, à la Prince William on his wedding day. I had a framed photo of Kate Middleton dangling from my neck and wore a big crown so fans could see me coming. All in all, it was a heady mix of fun, adrenaline, and enthusiasm, and for a worthy cause.

Did you have any goals?

No. Unlike Chicago, which is a flat course, Boston is notoriously hilly. Heartbreak Hill is only one of many “ups and downs” in this race. A “personal best” in Boston is as elusive as the Holy Grail. I’m always happy just to finish. Last year’s race, when it was 88 degrees, I ran in 4:30. This year I lopped off nearly a half hour, finishing in 4:03. 

Runners, especially marathoners, rely on their fans to help get them through the race. I knew I’d see one of my choir members at Mile 11 in Natick. She was there with a banana, a swig of water and a hug. Mile 13 is the “Wellesley gauntlet,” with thousands of Wellesley College women hanging over the police barricade screaming and begging for kisses from runners. So inspiring. So fun. At Mile 19 a group of Trinity choir folks awaited me, near the beginning of Heartbreak Hill. One of my tenors jumped into the race. For the next two miles, he ran with me, sticking by my side until we had crested Heartbreak Hill. Thanks to Mark, I forgot about the agony of those two relentlessly uphill miles. A gaggle of friends had gathered at Coolidge Corner, Mile 23.5, cameras and iPhones poised. Their wild cheering jazzed me up so much that I ran the rest of the race. Usually the agony of the last 3–4 miles is so acute that I can’t run continuously. It’s more a mix of running, walking, and hobbling. Lots of runners resort to this toward the end. For me, this time was different. My Mile 26 was the second fastest mile of the entire race. Inexplicably, I just kept running and crossed the finish line several minutes before I should have. Was it the Holy Spirit? Coincidence? The fans? The costume? I don’t know. 

Did you have friends waiting for you at the finish line?

I did, but I didn’t know it. Just after finishing, I spotted one of my choristers and her father in the crowd in front of Old South Church. I went over to the barricade for a quick hug and chat. Soon after leaving them, the first explosion went off a half block away. I will never forget how loud it was. It doesn’t surprise me that some who were close to the blast suffered hearing damage. At this point you think, “Is this a stunt? Fireworks? Something electrical?” Utter bewilderment. When the second blast struck, further down Boylston Street, you knew something was terribly wrong. Suddenly, chaos was everywhere. Sirens. Medical personnel careening toward the scene with stretchers. Emergency vehicles appearing out of nowhere. Choirs of sirens. Race volunteers moving the finishers away from the scene. A cluster of us were standing around trying to figure out what was going on when another runner who had just crossed the finish line, his forehead bloody, staggered up to us. Choking on his words, he said, “I can’t believe I saw limbs lying in the street.” We began to cry. How could this be happening? As this group of strangers wept, race volunteers surrounded us, asking, “How can we help? Can we call a relative for you?” That was futile, of course. Cell phone service was completely down. In the face of evil, the impulse is to overwhelm it with kindness and compassion. People were desperate to find a way to help, to bring relief to the suffering. In the weeks following, this response did not abate. Boston has felt like the Kingdom of God. Goodness, gentleness, and generosity are everywhere. Traffic is less aggressive; crowding onto a rush hour subway more deferential. Our city responded by saying, “The last word will not be evil, but kindness and mercy.” 

Some days later, the same chorister and her father with whom I had spoken at the finish line on race day said to me, “You saved our lives. We had been standing where the first bomb went off, waiting to see you finish. When you crossed the finish line, we left to go find you. Had you not finished when you did, we would have still been standing at that spot.”

How do you make sense of that? Maybe God gave me what it took to run faster than usual in order to spare their lives. But what about those who were not spared? These are hard spiritual questions with no facile answers.

What elements of your spirituality or musicality have nourished you during this time?

It has been a difficult time at Trinity. Our church is near the finish line. For ten days, the Copley Square area was closed as a crime scene. No one could get near the church. We were in exile. Where would we worship the following Sunday? The Church of the Advent graciously invited us to join them. Liturgically, our two churches are famously different. The two congregations worshipping together would have been something to behold. Temple Israel also reached out to us, offering their beautiful, modern building in the Longwood Medical area. “Come and hold your services here,” they invited. Not only did these kind people open up their building, they demonstrated radical hospitality, laying on coffee hour, serving as ushers, directing us to the restrooms. The chief Rabbi publicly welcomed us. We celebrated the Eucharist before the Torah ark in the Jewish temple. Who would ever have thought? Their only request was that we not bring crosses into the building. Roughly 900 people worshipped in a space as un-Richardsonian Romanesque as one could imagine. With a choir of eighty, a grand piano and flute, we were good to go. There was a lightness, grace, and holiness to it all. The congregation belted the hymns as never before, much to the amazement of the Jews, who blogged about “how those Christians really sing!” No one there will ever forget that service. The psalm appointed for Good Shepherd Sunday was Psalm 23. “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me.” What more needs to be said?

The Trinity choirs have been a unifying thread through these trials. The day after the attacks, a choir dad e-mailed, “My daughter insists that the Choristers go ahead with rehearsal today. She is adamant that they be together. If they can’t go to Trinity, then why not rehearse at Mr. Webster’s house?” A 10-year old gets it. When you’re the choir, you come together to do your job. You have a mission. Two days after the bombings, with the church still closed, our Wednesday Evensong morphed into an open-air service at the police barricade two blocks from the church. Colin Lynch led the choir, and clergy offered prayers for the healing of our city. Though our church building was closed, the community of faith carried on. Trinity finally reopened the following Wednesday. The first public service was Evensong with the Choristers. TV cameras rolled. It was another step in a painful, uncharted, redemptive journey that no one could have foreseen. 

At a time like this clichés are helpful because they convey truth. Life is precious. Life is a gift. It can be taken away or altered in an instant. Thank God for it every day, and tell those you love that you love them. Tell them often.

You express yourself so eloquently through your compositions. Can you envision responding to these events through your music?

I don’t know yet. Here’s another irony. The day before the race was a Sunday, known in Boston as Marathon Sunday. It’s a big day in the city churches, with scores of out-of-town runners on hand. At Trinity we bless the athletes during the services. I had composed a new anthem, Have you not known? Have you not heard? based on Isaiah 40, to be premiered that day. The text includes, “They shall run and not be weary. They shall walk and not faint.” It had been commissioned by Stephen J. Hendrickson, a parishioner whose partner, David McCord, was about to run his first marathon. The energetic music weaves in the famous theme from Chariots of Fire. The Trinity Choir gave it a rousing first performance. Given the following day’s events, the piece has acquired a particular poignancy.

Are there other aspects of this that you would like to share?

There is no doubt that evil exists. We saw it in twelve horrifying seconds in Boston. But evil is everywhere, every day. Though there was injury and death on Patriots’ Day, there is violence in the streets of Boston, Chicago, Baghdad, and Damascus every day. We who claim the faith of Jesus are called to respond to the world’s brokenness passionately, with courage, mercy, and healing. 

Richard Webster, FRSCM, is director of music and organist at Trinity Church, Copley Square, Boston. He is also music director of Chicago’s Bach Week Festival, and president of Advent Press (www.advent-press.com).

The Parish of All Saints, Ashmont; Dorchester, Massachusetts

Skinner Organ Company,
Opus 708—1929

Restoration by Joe Sloane, Jonathan Ortloff,
Jonathan Ambrosino

The City of Boston boasts Episcopal churches both grand and humble. In the Anglo-Catholic tradition, two stand out. The better known is the Church of the Advent on Beacon Hill, one of the earliest parishes in the United States to propagate Oxford Movement principles. The Advent’s sister congregation is the Parish of All Saints, Ashmont, in Dorchester. Annexed to Boston in 1870, Dorchester today is a patchwork of class and culture, its lower neighborhoods filled with triple-deckers once intended as worker housing, its grander homes standing proud on the hills and parks.

The Parish of All Saints was founded as a chapel in 1867, serving primarily English railway workers. By 1872 the congregation built a wood-frame church. One snowy Sunday in 1879 a carriage driver, unable to take his Unitarian master and mistress from Milton to downtown King’s Chapel, suggested they stop to worship at All Saints instead. Struck by the experience, Colonel Oliver and Mary Lothrop Peabody were eventually confirmed in the Episcopal Church, and began a relationship of beneficence to All Saints that resulted in a pivotal example of American architecture. All Saints is the first major work of Ralph Adams Cram and Bertram Grosvenor Goodhue, instigating a new Gothic revival that would dominate American church building until World War II. First inhabited in 1894, All Saints was embellished for the next three decades as something of a laboratory for Gothic design. Two chapels were added, and eventually all three altars richly developed. The stone reredos can be seen as a foreshadowing of Goodhue’s later masterpiece at St. Thomas Fifth Avenue; in the Lady Chapel triptych stands Johannes Kirchmayer’s most exquisite carving.

Despite its elegant home, All Saints remains the proud working-class sibling of its posh Beacon Hill sister. The congregation is diverse in that word’s un-political sense, reflecting its neighborhood, the heritage of Anglican missionaries in the Caribbean and West Indies, and that strand of humanity that will always drive past other churches for liturgical expression in this style. The Choir of Men and Boys, founded in 1888 and once among dozens in the Diocese of Massachusetts, is today the last surviving. It offers music at the Sunday High Mass and special feasts, but also safe haven and pocket income for boys of many stripes. Notable musicians have served here, none more famous than Archibald T. “Doc” Davison, who later went to Harvard and found fame as conductor of the Glee Club; and later Herbert Peterson, Joseph Payne, Michael Kleinschmidt, and Fred Backhaus. Organ scholars and assistants have included Ray Nagem, Hatsumi Miura, and Andrew Sheranian, the latter returning in 2010 to assume his present position as organist and choirmaster.

If Ernest Skinner once complained that Cram made beautiful churches with terrible organ chambers, Ashmont’s is the sorry prototype—a shanty with insubstantial walls and inhospitable rooflines. In 1902 Hutchings-Votey provided 28 stops on tubular-pneumatic action; in 1910 came the present carved façades, tracery, and pipes. William Laws electrified the action in 1930 and moved the console to its present location, though retaining a mechanical swell linkage, parts of which survive. Through the late 1950s and early 1960s, Boston organbuilder Thad Outerbridge made considerable tonal revisions, transforming the original Taftian tonal scheme into something more energetic, articulate, and brilliant. This was done with respectable craft and for next to nothing on the original chassis, which, in contravention of the usual mid–20th-century tale that electro-pneumatic actions can only be short-lived, remained in functioning order for almost eight decades.

When in the late 1970s failure became too widespread to ignore, the church’s devoted musician, Herb Peterson, cast about for a rebuild. The project, done with good intentions by builders “from away,” resulted in a mechanical mayhem of old and new parts. The organ limped along from 1981 until C.B. Fisk installed a fine three-manual, Opus 103, in a new nave gallery in 1995. For a time, it provided all accompaniment, but secure choral leadership proved too challenging at such distance. Judicious rebuilding of the chancel organ by George Bozeman in 1999 allowed 20 of the 34 stops to play again. From that point on, a pattern developed whereby the organist plays voluntaries and hymns on the Fisk, and walks forward to conduct choral portions. (The structure of the Mass, and the placement of the minor propers, makes this a more logical commute than may first appear.)

However diverse its congregation, All Saints suffers no confusion of liturgical or musical aims. The only paid positions are the rector, organist, and professional choristers (including all boys and teens); there is neither sexton nor secretary, but vigorous lay involvement. In modern times, a modest endowment and faithful pledging have kept the parish in humble health. When the realities of a 120-year-old structure forced a full-scale restoration, it was clear that what the building demanded was well beyond what the parish could ever hope to afford. In a stroke of fortune almost too staggering for comprehension, the church received, first, an anonymous gift to cover an in-depth existing conditions survey, and, later, an eight-figure grant to fund not only the vast majority of a comprehensive renovation but also a matching amount toward a $2 million preservation endowment. These developments energized the parish to undertake additional fundraising, completing a project many had considered impossible.

As these events unfolded, the plight of the chancel organ was never entirely absent—the cherry on a sundae that itself could scarcely be afforded. But certain gentlemen of the choir were not entirely indisposed to vision, and ears pricked up when one of my tuning helpers, organist Joshua Lawton, told me about Skinner Opus 708 in the now-closed First Methodist Church of North Adams, Massachusetts. While a student at Williams, Josh had served a year as organist at First Methodist, and he gave good reports of the organ’s tone and unaltered condition. A visit in October 2011 disclosed one of the last instruments built at Skinner’s subsidiary plant in Westfield, Massachusetts, of exactly the right size and scope for All Saints. A second visit in December included All Saints’ rector, Father Michael J. Godderz, and a group of opinion leaders. Everyone liked what they saw and heard, so another choir gentleman, Timothy Van Dyck, set about writing friends of his parents, who just happened to be lovers of Skinner organs and were prepared to donate generously. Their initial gift made possible the purchase, removal, and storage of Opus 708 in June 2012, a task undertaken by Joe Sloane, myself, members of the Organ Clearing House, and a group of volunteers from All Saints. The example of our generous couple eventually inspired others, including the Joseph Bradley Charitable Foundation. A September 2014 fundraising concert by William Porter, on the Fisk and Skinner organs at Harvard University’s Memorial Church, brought our Skinner project to full funding.

The enthusiasm for a Skinner at All Saints was rooted in the conviction that any accompanimental instrument should equal the resplendence of the building’s other appointments. Since the Fisk handily addresses literature and congregational singing, a chancel organ could focus on choral support without distraction. An organ in the orchestral style was not as important as having a palette of smooth, subtle, and timeless tone that, even at its most energetic, would not compete with voices. In Opus 708 we were grateful to find equal balance between chorus work and color stops, warm foundations and telling mixtures.

From a restorer’s point of view, Opus 708 had led a charmed life. The cool mountain air had kept summer humidity at bay, while a damp basement blower location seems to have prevented dry winter baking. Downsides were few. Some water damage in the Swell had led to compromised rebuilding, but in only one offset chest. And the basement dampness eventually encouraged a vivid yellow mold to overtake both blower and static reservoir. These components were left in place, where they doubtless glow still. Otherwise, the ethic of this project was not unlike that applied to the church itself: restore as conservatively as possible, avoid anachronism, place reliability and longevity above all. This philosophy meant that any technique that might benefit the mechanism—dowel-nutting for wind-tightness, replacing cork gaskets with leather, more securely fitting reservoir wind boxes—was eagerly adopted. Where some aspect of Westfield construction was merely different from the Boston Skinner factory, it was preserved; where sub-standard, it was sensitively refashioned to promote wind-tightness and seasonal security. We also felt it was time to reconsider certain cosmetic practices that have become commonplace in the restoration of these instruments. In the end, we preferred to introduce no new shellac on wood or common metal pipes, to retain and carefully refit the original tuning sleeves, and to wipe clean most wooden surfaces and keep their gorgeous finish intact rather than sand or introduce additional coats of shellac. It was necessary to refinish the three-manual console cabinet and bench to match the new surroundings, but all internal machinery was restored, including the original combination action. We never considered any other option, and thought it beneficial that organ scholars learn the old skills of hand-registration on this manageable little instrument. The Skinner console sits where the Laws one did, a bit higher for better visibility. With its original ivory and lustrous wood, it seems entirely at home.

Re-engineered in a now-sturdy chamber, Opus 708 speaks with both greater clarity and profundity than the old organ ever did. Fortunately, Cram’s thorny chamber is similar to the one in North Adams, but it was still sheer luck that CCC of the Contrebasse (the organ’s only mitered flue pipe) tucks up less than a half-inch from the ceiling. In the end, one stop had to be added. Part of All Saints’ prior chancel organ was a copper horizontal trumpet in the nave tower, which some in the congregation were keen to see preserved. This we have done, but inside the organ chamber, using a Skinner windchest, Skinner reservoir, and Skinner pipes, including a 16-foot extension. The blower for the old stop has been incorporated as a booster, providing the Tromba with its 12-inch pressure in a line that continues under the chancel to wind the console. Skinner electro-pneumatic switching from the 1928 Princeton Chapel organ (kindly donated by the A. Thompson-Allen Company) conveys the necessary signals; Tromba and Trombone knobs from the 1926 Skinner console at Boston’s Trinity Church (generously contributed by Nelson Barden) have been fitted, displacing original Chimes knobs. The engraving doesn’t match; we don’t mind.

The two people most responsible for this project are Joe Sloane and Jonathan Ortloff. Joe worked for Nelson Barden for 25 years and is one of the most thorough and sensitive restorers anywhere of this type of instrument. Jon trained with Steve Russell in Vermont and spent two years at Spencer Organ Company before recently establishing his own enterprise. With deliberation and patience over 20 months, these gentlemen have reviewed, engineered, restored, and considered how this job might best unfold. Joe’s son Ian has been on hand to help, and I have had a voice in the organ’s engineering, layout, and other major decision points, as well as restoring flue pipes, undertaking general coordination, and all contractual and financial management.

In this effort our small team has been materially aided by colleagues of longstanding. Our friends at Spencer Organ Company provided a good deal of leathering, as well as assistance in flue pipe restoration, principally from Martin Near. The good men of the A. Thompson-Allen Company “found” a hole in their schedule to help with offset chest and tremolo restoration. Christopher and Catherine Broome did their usual superb job on the organ’s five reeds, particularly in making a convincing 73-note register out of three partial Skinner ranks. Mike Morvan did beautiful restoration on the keyboards, while Amory Atkins, Terence Atkin, Joshua Wood, and Dean Conry brought their usual steam-locomotive energy to dismantling, moving, and building everything in their path. Finally, Duane Prill took time from his busy schedule to help in the tonal finishing. The organ was brought into use on May 10, in a fairly spectacular packed-house evensong in honor of Our Lady, which also celebrated the 50th anniversary of the ordination of the Reverend F. Washington Jarvis, priest associate of the parish for 39 years. The instrument saw completion this month.

•

Of the 750-odd instruments to bear “Skinner” on their nameplates prior to the merger with Aeolian, 27 were installed within the city limits of Boston. These included church organs such as Old South and Trinity; theatre organs at the Capitol (Allston) and the downtown Metropolitan; five residence installations, including one with a tin façade; and the factory studio, on which player rolls were recorded and clients wooed.

Of these 27, not a single one survives—certainly not in any form Ernest Skinner would recognize. They are either altered beyond recognition or discarded. Therefore, to return a Skinner organ to Boston (even one built in Westfield) goes beyond the satisfaction of giving a good organ a worthy home. It simply feels better knowing that this pivotal American organ-builder is now represented not merely in his hometown but right in his old neighborhood, just a few miles from his old Dorchester factory and first house. To execute the project in a purposely conservative manner seems just as right for All Saints, a church in which the old ways hold forth not archaically but with purpose, vitality, and joy.

—Jonathan Ambrosino