New Organs

Michael McNeil

Michael McNeil has designed, constructed, and researched pipe organs since 1973. He was also a research engineer in the disk drive industry with 27 patents. He has authored four hardbound books, among them The Sound of Pipe Organs, several e-publications, and many journal articles.

Preface

Good documentation of organs with enough pipe measurements to permit an analysis of both scaling and voicing is extremely rare. Pipe diameters, mouth widths, and mouth heights (cutups) may be sometimes found, but toe diameters and especially flueway depths are rare. Rarer still are wind system data, allowing a full analysis of wind flow and wind dynamics, parameters that have an enormous impact on the sound of an organ. The reader will find all of this in the following essay on William A. Johnson’s Opus 161.

Good documentation is important for several reasons. We can make useful comparisons with other organs to learn how a specific sound is achieved. And perhaps most importantly, we can document the organ for posterity; while organs are consumed in wars and fires, they are most often replaced or modified with the changing tastes of time. They never survive restorations without changes. Comprehensive documentation may also serve to deter future interventions that intend to “modernize” an organ. Lastly, future restorations of important organs will be more historically accurate if they are based on good documentation.

The mid-nineteenth-century scaling and voicing of William A. Johnson is very similar to the late-eighteenth-century work of the English organbuilder Samuel Green, as evidenced by the data from Johnson’s Opus 16 and Opus 161. Stephen Bicknell provides us with detailed descriptions of Green’s work.¹ Johnson’s scaling is utterly unlike the work of E. & G. G. Hook, whose 1843 Opus 50 for the Methodist Church of Westfield, Massachusetts, set Johnson on a career in organbuilding when he helped the Hooks with its installation.² In this essay we will explore Johnson’s Opus 161 in detail and contrast it with the Opus 322 of the Hooks, both of which were constructed within a year of each other.³ While the Hooks used a Germanic constant scale in their pipe construction, Johnson significantly reduced the scale of his upperwork stops, much in the manner of Samuel Green and classical French builders.

The question arises as to whether Johnson came to his design theory by way of a process of convergent evolution (i.e., independently), or whether he was exposed to the organ Samuel Green shipped to the Battle Square Church in Boston in 1792, and which “was played virtually unaltered for a century,” according to Barbara Owen.⁴ The author suggested to Owen that the Green organ may have had a strong influence on Johnson, but she thought it unlikely that Johnson would have made the long trip from Westfield, far to the west of Boston. 

Travel would indeed have been much more difficult in 1843 when Johnson was exposed to the Hook organ at Westfield. But of some significance was the extension of the Western Railroad from Boston to Westfield in 1843. This new railroad may have been the means by which the Hook organ was shipped to Westfield. Elsworth (see endnote 2) clearly makes the case that Johnson was intoxicated by organbuilding with his exposure to the Hook organ. It is easy to imagine that he would have made a pilgrimage to Boston, at the time a mecca of American organbuilding, perhaps invited by the Hooks to accompany them after finishing their installation in Westfield.⁵

The author was engaged in 1976 by Mrs. Gene Davis, the organist of the Piru Community United Methodist Church, to evaluate the organ at that church. The identity of the organ was in question as no nameplate was in evidence on the console, the organ was barely playable, and its sound was greatly muted by the crude placement of panels in front of the Great division to make it expressive by forcing its sound through the shades of the Swell division above it. An inspection showed that nearly all of the pipework was intact, and a contract was signed to restore the organ to playable condition. The organ was cleaned, the pipes repaired, the few missing pipes replaced, and much of the action repaired by Michael McNeil and David Sedlak.

The church office files produced an undated, typed document that stated: 

 

The pipe organ in the Methodist Church of Piru was built by William Johnson, of Westfield, Mass., in the early 1860s, making it probably the oldest operating pipe organ in California. It was a second-hand organ when transported by sailing ship 17,000 miles around Cape Horn before 1900, and installed in a Roman Catholic Church in San Francisco. After the earthquake and fire of 1906, the organ was moved to another church and probably at this time parts damaged in the quake were replaced. After many more years of service it was retired and put into storage until, in 1935, Mr. Hugh Warring was persuaded to purchase it for the Piru church. It was purchased for the storage cost of $280.

Evidence of a different and more likely provenance was discovered during the removal of pipework and the cleaning of the organ. Three labels were found glued to the bottom of the reservoir (perhaps as patches for leaks). Two labels read: “Geo. Putnam ‘Janitor’ Stockton California July 1 ’99.” A third label read: “From the Periodical Department, Presbyterian Board of Publication, and Sabbath = Schoolwork, Witherspoon Bldg, 1319 Walnut St., Phila. PA.” At a much later time Reverend Thomas Carroll, SJ, noticed that the clues of Stockton, California, and the Presbyterian church correlated to an entry in the opus list of Johnson organs, compiled in Elsworth’s 1984 book, The Johnson Organs. Opus 161 was shipped in 1864 to the “Presbyterian Church, Stockton, Cal. The church is Eastside Presbyterian.” The organ was listed as having two manuals and 22 stops.⁶ At this time such features as couplers and tremulants were counted as “stops,” and this roughly fit the description of the Piru organ. The façade of the Piru organ is also consistent with the architecture of organs built by Johnson in the 1864 time frame. Elsworth’s illustrations include a console layout of Opus 200 (1866) virtually identical to the Piru organ layout; Opus 134 (1862) exhibits the impost, stiles, and Gothic ornamentation of the Piru organ; Opus 183 (1865) has similar pipe flats and also the console layout of the Piru organ.⁷ Many other details verified the Johnson pedigree, among them the inscription “H. T. Levi” on the reed pipes. Barbara Owen pointed out that Levi was Johnson’s reed voicer during the time of manufacture of Opus 161.⁸ The pieces of evidence fell together when Jim Lewis discovered a newspaper photo of Opus 161 in the Eastside Presbyterian Church of Stockton that matched the façade of the Piru organ. The most likely scenario is that Johnson shipped Opus 161 directly to that church. The Gothic architecture of the Johnson façade also reflects the architecture of the Eastside Presbyterian Church façade. A handwritten note on the Piru church document stated: “Pipe organ and art glass memorial windows dedication June 2, 1935 per Fillmore Herald May 31, 1935, a gift of Hugh Warring.”

It is possible that the organ went from the Presbyterian church into storage, and was later moved to its present location in the 1934–1935 time frame. Even so, we can say with nearly absolute certainty that this organ is William A. Johnson’s Opus 161.

 

Tonal design overview

It is obvious from even a casual glance at Elsworth’s study of Johnson organs that the Johnson tonal style was based on a classical principal chorus that included mixtures in all but the more modest instruments. But the voicing style is gentle and refined, and bears great similarity to the late-eighteenth-century English work of Samuel Green, whose meantone organ at Armitage in Staffordshire is an excellent surviving example.⁹ Tuned in meantone, Johnson Opus 161 would easily pass muster as the work of Green. The tonal contrast between Green and Hook is stark, and the Hook data serve as an excellent counterpoint to the data from the Johnson organ. Green was the organbuilder favored by the organizers of the Handel Commemoration Festival of 1784, who went so far as to have one of Green’s organs temporarily installed in Westminster Abbey for that occasion. King George III paid Samuel Green to build an organ for Saint George’s Chapel at Windsor.

Stephen Bicknell’s The History of the English Organ relates important details of Samuel Green’s work that we find in Johnson’s Opus 161. “. . . Green’s voicing broke new ground . . . . Delicacy was achieved partly by reducing the size of the pipe foot and by increasing the amount of nicking. The loss of grandeur in the chorus was made up for by increasing the scales of the extreme basses.”¹⁰ And “Where Snetzler provided a chorus of startling boldness and with all the open metal ranks of equal power, Green introduced refinement and delicacy and modified the power of the off-unison ranks to secure a new kind of blend.”¹¹ The Hooks, like Snetzler, used a constant scale where all of the pipes in the principal chorus at a given pitch had about the same scale and power.

The most basic data set for describing power balances and voicing must include, at a minimum, pipe diameters, widths of mouths, heights of mouths (“cutup”), diameters of foot toe holes, and depths of mouth flueways. The data in this essay are presented in normalized scales for inside pipe diameters, mouth widths, and mouth heights. Tables showing how raw data are converted into normalized scales may be found in the article on the E. & G. G. Hook Opus 322 published in The Diapason, July 2017. The full set of Johnson data and the Excel spreadsheet used to analyze them may be obtained at no charge by emailing the author.¹² Also available is the book The Sound of Pipe Organs, which describes in detail the theory and derivation of the models used in this essay.¹³

 

Pitch, wind pressure, and general notes

The current pitch of the Johnson and Hook organs is dissimilar and should be taken into consideration when observing the scaling charts. The Hook organ is now pitched at A=435.3 Hz at 74 degrees Fahrenheit, while the Johnson organ is now pitched at 440 Hz. The original pitch of the Hook organ was 450 Hz; new low C pipes were added when the pitch was changed to 435 Hz, and the original pipework was moved up a halftone, widening its scales by a halftone. The original pitch of the Johnson organ was approximately 450 Hz; the pipes were lengthened to achieve a lower pitch.¹⁴ The Hook and Johnson organs are both tuned in equal temperament. The wind pressure, water column, of the Hook is 76 mm (3 inches); the Johnson organ was measured at 76 mm static and 70 mm under full flow on the Great division. The pressure was reduced during the restoration to 63 mm static. This allowed the pitch of the pipes to drop, making the adjustment to 440 Hz with fewer changes to the pipe lengths; most of the pipes that were originally cut to length had been crudely pinched at the top to lower their pitch. With the reduction in pressure the ears of the 4′ Flute à Cheminée, with its soldered tops, achieved a more normal position. 

The Piru room acoustic was reasonably efficient, and while the Johnson voicing is very restrained, it was adequate to fill this room on the reduced pressure. The Piru church seats 109, has plastered walls, wood and carpet flooring, and a peaked ceiling about 30 feet high; the reverberation, empty, as heard with normal ears, is well under one second (this is not the measurement used by architects that erroneously reports much longer reverberation). Elsworth relates that “the wind pressure which Johnson used during this period was generally between 21⁄2 and 23⁄4 inches [63.5 and 70 mm], and, in rare examples, nearly 3 inches [76 mm].”¹⁵ The photograph of the original Eastside Presbyterian Church for which the Johnson was designed implies a larger acoustical space than that of the Piru church.

The compass of the Johnson organ is 56 notes in the manuals, C to g′′′, and 27 notes in the pedal, C to d′.

 

Stoplist

The Johnson console was found in poor condition, missing the builder’s nameplate and many of its stop knob faces. Correct stop names were derived from the markings on the pipes and the missing faces were replaced. The original stoplist is reconstructed as follows (Johnson did not use pitch designations):

GREAT

8′ Open Diapason

8′ Keraulophon

8′ Clarabella

4′ Principal

4′ Flute à Cheminée (TC)

22⁄3′ Twelfth

2′ Fifteenth

8′ Trumpet

SWELL

16′ Bourdon (TC)

8′ Open Diapason

8′ Stopped Diapason

8′ Viol d’Amour (TF)

4′ Principal

8′ Hautboy (TF)

Tremolo

PEDAL

16′ Double Open Diapason

 

Couplers

Great to Pedal

Swell to Pedal

Swell to Great

 

Blower signal

The above list adds up to 20 controls. The Johnson company opus list describes Opus 161 as having 22 “stops.” This may have reflected the original intention to supply the organ with stops having split basses, which are commonly found in Johnson specifications. The sliders for the Keraulophon and the Trumpet were found with separate bass sections from C to B, professionally screwed together with the sections from tenor C to d′′′. The two additional bass stops would account for a total of 22 “stops.” There are no extra holes in the stop jambs to indicate the deleted split bass stop actions. The extant stopjambs are apparently a later modification from the time of the installation at Piru or before. Elsworth noted that all Johnson organs of this period were constructed with square stop shanks.¹⁶ The current shanks are round where they pass through the stopjambs and are square where they connect to the stop action.

Several stop knobs were switched during the 1935 installation at Piru; e. g., the Viole d’Amour in the pre-restoration photo of the right jamb belongs in the position noted on the left jamb with the black plastic label “Bell Gamba,” which indeed is how this stop was constructed. The Swell Stopped Diapason was operated by a knob labeled “Principal” [sic]. The illustrations of the left stopjamb and right stopjamb diagrams provide the correct nomenclature as restored in the correct positions, with the incorrect 1935 nomenclature in parentheses ( ) and the correct pitches in brackets [ ].

 

The wind system

The wind system can be modeled from two viewpoints: the restriction of flow from the wind trunks, pallets, channels, and pipe toes; and the dynamics of the wind. Wind dynamics are fully explained in The Sound of Pipe Organs and are a very important aspect of an organ’s ability to sustain a fast tempo with stability or conversely to enhance the grand cadences of historic literature. The data set on the Johnson allows us to model all of these characteristics. Figure 1 shows the Johnson wind flow model.

In Figure 1 we see a table of the pipe toe diameters and their calculated areas; values in red font are calculations or interpolations from the data (e.g., wood pipe toes are difficult to measure when they have wooden wedges to restrict flow). These areas are measured for a single note in each octave of the compass.

A model for the total required wind flow of the full plenum of the organ assumes a maximum of ten pallets (a ten-fingered chord), as described in the table, and the flow is multiplied by the number of the pallets played for each octave in the compass. The sum of the toe areas of all ten manual pallets in the tutti is 5,057 mm². The total area of the manual wind trunks is 38,872 mm², and we see that the wind trunks afford 7.7 times more wind than the tutti requires, so much in fact that the trunks do not at all function as an effective resistance in the system.

Interestingly, the Isnard organ at St. Maximin, France, used the main wind trunk as a strong resistor to dampen Helmholtz resonances in the wind system, and that organ has ratios of wind trunk area to a plenum toe area of only 1.07 for the coupled principal chorus of the Grand-Orgue and Positif, but with no reeds, flutes, or mutations. Helmholtz resonances are the source of what is normally called wind shake, and we would expect some mild wind shake with the Johnson’s large wind ducts and low damping resistance. The author’s notes from 1976 state: “Very little sustained shake . . . a considerable fluctuation in pitch when playing moderately fast legato scales, which stabilizes very rapidly . . . this imparts a shimmer . . . .”

In Figure 1 we also see dimensions of the key channels, pallet openings, and the pallet pull length (estimated from the ratios in the action). These allow us to calculate the relative wind flow of the channels and pallets. We find that there are robust margins in wind flow from the channels to the pipe toes (244% at low C to 737% at high C on the Great). This accounts for the small drop in static pressure at 76 mm to a full flow pressure of 70 mm with all stops drawn. Pallet openings are less robust and flow about 100% of the channel area for the first three octaves and 190% in the high treble.

The underlying dynamics of a wind system are the result of the mass of its bellows plate and the volume of air in the system. These factors produce a natural resonance that can enhance the grand cadences of literature with a long surge in the wind, or it can produce a nervous shake if it is too fast. A grand surge in the wind is characterized by a resonant frequency of less than 2 Hz (cycles per second), and it is most often produced by a weighted bellows. A nervous shake results from a sprung bellows. We correct the latter condition with small concussion bellows in modern organs, but the Johnson organ does not have such devices; instead, it features only a large, weighted, double-rise bellows. 

We can model the dynamic response of an organ by using its wind pressure, the area of the bellows plates, and the combined internal volume of its bellows, wind trunks, and pallet boxes. The model in Figure 2 shows the dynamic response of the current Johnson wind system at a relaxed 1.61 Hz. This low resonant frequency drops further to 1.47 Hz when the pressure is raised to its original value of 76 mm. The author’s notes from 1976 state: “Light ‘give’ on full organ; relatively fast buildup to full flow.” That “light give” is the result of the low resonant frequency of the system. The resonant frequency of the Hook organ was modeled at 1.23 Hz, a value lower than the Johnson, and the Hook chorus does indeed exhibit a slower and grander surge on full organ. Figure 3 shows the modeled resonant frequency at the original pressure of 76 mm for the Johnson organ. The equation for modeling the resonant frequency of a wind system along with a worked example on the 1774 Isnard organ at St. Maximin may be found in The Sound of Pipe Organs, pages 99–113.

 

The wind system in pictures

See the accompanying pictures: Notebook sketch 1, Great windchest, Toeboard, Notebook sketch 2, Notebook sketch 3, Notebook sketch 4, Great pallet box, Pallet springs, Notebook sketch 5.

 

The layout in pictures

“Green’s organs stand on an independent building frame with the case erected around it, rather than being supported by the structure of the case itself.”¹⁷ Bicknell’s description of a Samuel Green organ applies equally well to this Johnson organ. The casework is built entirely of black walnut, a wood mentioned by Elsworth in reference to Johnson cases. The organ is situated within the front wall of the church. The original black walnut side panels (typical of early Johnson organs) were found crudely cut up and nailed behind the façade in an effort to make the whole organ expressive through the Swell shades. This had the effect of making the Great division sound like a diminutive Echo division. The typical layout of a Johnson organ is well described by Elsworth: “The framework was arranged to carry the chests of the Great organ and the supporting framework for the Swell, which was usually above the Great organ and slightly to the rear.”¹⁸ Such layouts, shown in Figure 4, are common in nineteenth-century American organbuilding. The walkway behind the Great allowed access to the pipes and pallets placed at the rear of that chest, and the rollerboard to the Swell division was normally placed just behind this walkway, allowing access to the Swell pallets that were placed at the front of the Swell windchest. Opus 161 was installed in an opening in the Piru church that was far too shallow to allow the depth of a rearward placement of the Swell division. 

As a result, there is evidence that the Swell windchest may have been reversed, placing its pallets to the back of the windchest, and the chest brought forward over the Great division. Note the lack of clearance between the 4′ Principal pipe and the bottom of the Swell chest in Figure 5. The internal framework shows signs of crude saw cuts; the order of the notes on the Swell chest is the same as the Great, but it is reversed; the Swell rollerboard appears to have been likewise reversed and now faces toward the walkway where the action and rollers are exposed to damage. 

To say that the Piru layout was cramped would be an understatement; no one weighing over 150 pounds would gain access to the pipes for tuning or to the action for adjustment without damaging the pipework or the key action. The author weighed less (at the time) and was barely able to navigate inside the organ. The current layout is shown in Figure 6. 

It is also possible that the current layout reflects the original layout by Johnson, but that the Swell was simply lowered to fit the height of the Piru church and brought forward to fit the limited depth available, reducing the depth of the walkway.

Notes and credits

All photos, drawings, tables, and illustrations are courtesy of the author’s collection if not otherwise noted. Most of the color photos were unfortunately taken by the author with an inferior camera in low resolution. David Sedlak used a high quality camera, lenses, and film to produce the high-resolution color photos of the church and its architectural details; these are all attributed to Sedlak.

1. Stephen Bicknell, The History of the English Organ, Cambridge University Press, 1996, Cambridge, pp. 185–187, 190–191, 207.

2. John Van Varick Elsworth, The Johnson Organs, The Boston Organ Club, 1984, Harrisville, p. 18.

3. A detailed study of the E. & G. G. Hook Opus 322 may be found in The Diapason, July, August, and September issues, 2017.

4. Barbara Owen, The Organ in New England, The Sunbury Press, 1979, Raleigh, pp. 18–19.

5. see: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Boston_and_Albany_Railroad.

6. The Johnson Organs, p. 100.

7. Ibid, pp. 23, 50, 57, respectively.

8. The Organ in New England, p. 275.

9. 5 Organ Concertos, 1984, Archiv D 150066, Simon Preston, Trevor Pinnock, The English Concert.

10. The History of the English Organ, p. 185.

11. Ibid, p. 207.

12. McNeil, Michael. Johnson_161_170807, an Excel file containing all of the raw data and the models used to analyze the Johnson Opus 161, 2017, available by emailing the author at [email protected].

13. McNeil, Michael. The Sound of Pipe Organs, CC&A, Mead, 2012, 191 pp., Amazon.com.

14. The Organ in New England, p. 75.

15. The Johnson Organs, p. 25.

16. Ibid, p. 23.

17. The History of the English Organ, p. 187.

18. The Johnson Organs, p. 23.

 

To be continued.

Foley-Baker, Inc.,

Tolland, Connecticut

St. Mark’s Episcopal Cathedral, 

Minneapolis, Minnesota

Foley-Baker, Inc.,

Tolland, Connecticut

St. Mark’s Episcopal Cathedral, 

Minneapolis, Minnesota

 

From the builder

The Welte name is mostly known for its roll-player mechanisms, the Mignon reproducing piano, and their Orchestrion. However, as builders of traditional pipe organs, Welte’s output was small; organs were but one in a family of Welte “products” typical of the era’s massive instrumental output. In 1912, Welte opened a factory in Poughkeepsie, New York, but their earliest organs were purchased from other builders and fitted with Welte players. Since Welte was of German ownership, the First World War threw things into disarray, and after the war, ownership changed hands. A larger reorganization in 1925 by former Kimball man Robert Pier Elliot had Welte building its own organs of fine quality and for any venue: residence, theater, or church. But the firm struggled to gain a strong financial footing. It suffered a setback in 1927, repurchase and relocation in 1929, and finally absorption by Kimball of Chicago in 1931. Today, there are few surviving examples of Welte organs, and, even after our 42 years in business, we had never worked on one. St. Mark’s Minneapolis would be a new experience. 

The cathedral’s consultant was David Engen of Maple Grove, Minnesota. His request for proposal offered a general description of the organ’s overall condition. Our assumption was that we would see huge diapasons, pencil-scale strings, and tibia-like flutes, all on a massive chassis. In fact, the St. Mark’s Welte had been tonally and mechanically modified on two different occasions by M.P. Möller. Much of the Welte material was long gone, although the organ remained capable of producing an impressive volume of sound.

But it was clear the various rebuilds had compromised the instrument. The chamber was packed with non-Welte chests, flexible wind lines, dangling wires, and a chamber entrance door that barely opened, due to added ranks and equipment. There were reservoirs everywhere, fully 17 in the main organ. Tuning access was bad enough, while actual service work required unnecessarily heroic effort. One reason the organ continued to generate an impressive sound was the chamber’s placement and hard walls. More than projecting sound, the chamber almost seemed to amplify it. The cathedral’s impressive acoustics certainly helped as well. 

The organ was on its third console and had a dated relay system spread throughout four different areas of the building. In the basement, the large Spencer blower’s motor needed all new bearings. Adding insult to injury, HVAC ducts installed in the 1950s had seen the removal of the organ’s important static reservoirs, further compromising the wind supply.

At Foley-Baker, we love to save old organs. However, it was clear that at St. Mark’s, there wasn’t an old organ to save, just parts of one. Trying to determine what was possible and affordable would take both positive and practical thinking. If the organ were to be rebuilt, the results had to be worth the investment. 

We spent days measuring pipe scales and gathering details. There were interesting finds, such as high in the tower, where the Möller crew had stored some of the 1928 Welte pipework. There was much damage; some ranks were incomplete, while others were beyond repair. Our tonal director Milovan Popovic laid out rank after twisted rank on the large tower room floor. Out of this survey we found three Welte stops to reclaim: the Swell 4′ Clarion, Great 8′ Second Open Diapason, and the large-scale Swell 8′ Vox Humana. All three became valuable additions. 

As our familiarity with the cathedral’s music program and organ grew, so did our concepts for the renewed instrument. Tonally, we had 1920s Welte mixed with 1980s Möller. In 2012 it is perhaps too easy to criticize Möller’s radical changes as heavy-handed; they were in the spirit of the time, and had introduced a variety of useful colors, including mutations, large-scale strings, and solo reeds. In time, we decided just where and what reused ranks would work and what new ones had to be added to create a bold, cohesive American sound to fill the cathedral’s large nave.

The chamber size and shape dictated the same stacked layout as had existed from the beginning. For us, multi-level organs raise red flags for service accessibility. Without careful design, the new and larger instrument had the potential for being another service nightmare. Our solution was to start from scratch, using a new chassis designed and built at Organ Supply Industries. The elegant simplicity of their slider chests promised minimal maintenance and assurance of accessibility. Their built-in schwimmer-regulators greatly simplified the winding, adding space for more stops and wider passage boards.

Given the scales and pressures, effective swell boxes would be essential. The original Welte shades were rebuilt and fitted to new boxes of 11⁄2-inch-thick medium density fiberboard. The combination of the two makes for a marvelous range of expression; massive ensembles can whisper or roar.

In addition to restoring the 1928 Spencer blower, we were able to find and install appropriate static reservoirs. Unlike 1928, however, this equipment now stands in separate rooms dedicated for the purpose. The result is that, despite wind pressures from five to 20 inches, an indicator light is necessary to know that the wind is on. As we have done elsewhere, we designed and installed an automatic, in-chassis humidity system that requires minimal service attention and combats Minnesota’s problematic humidity swings. 

The low-profile Schantz console dating from 1990 was reused, with modified stop jambs, new drawknobs, and burled mahogany jamb faces for a sharper appearance. (Schantz graciously provided and installed new, easy-to-read piston buttons.) We installed a new electronic relay that is easily accessed by simply raising the now-hinged console lid.

Years of change had seen many stops swapped between divisions. The Choir Diapason had been moved into the Solo as a 4′ Octave. We returned it to the Choir at 8′ with a new bass octave. The Welte Second Open found in the tower became our Great Diapason. Other stops were also returned to their original 1928 locations. The renewed instrument is a blend of remaining Welte pipework, selected Möller ranks, and important new registers. All retained ranks were cleaned, repaired, and revoiced, perhaps none more important than original large pedal basses and their Welte chests. These provided the weight and heft we envisioned as a foundation for the new instrument. 

The reed stops presented their own challenge, with ranks by five different builders and, in some cases, using scales and pressures dictated by available—or unavailable—space. Working with Chris Broome of Broome & Co. LLC, we examined the potential of each rank for our new scheme. In the end, we designed and had built an all-new Great reed chorus. Having found the original 1928 Welte 4′ Clarion, we were able to use it to recreate Welte’s original Swell reed chorus; industrial strength pipes with a just-right massive sound. A small-scale yet piercingly loud Möller Trumpet, which had been taking up valuable room in a corner of the Great, was revoiced into an ideally scaled Choir Trompette. Chorus reeds now serve to cap wonderful choruses, enriched by solo stops such as the Skinner Clarinet or Kimball Corno d’amour. 

The new organ’s sound ties together all the good qualities that go into creating it: the new specification, high pressures and large scales, the chamber’s ability to project sound and the swell shutters’ ability to contain it, and the new layout and chassis, which provided optimal placement for all stops. As the bottom photo on the front cover clearly displays, even 1928 pipes can look (and sound) like new. We were really thrilled to hear Canon Musician Ray Johnston play the “new” organ at the inaugural concert on May 18, an outstanding program that included brass and the cathedral’s choirs. To him and David Engen we owe thanks for supporting us in this challenging and rewarding project.

Upcoming concerts involving the rebuilt organ are posted on the cathedral’s website. All photos of the cathedral and reconditioned instrument are by Mark Manring (www.manring.net). All other photos are from Foley-Baker, Inc. files.

—Mike Foley

 

From the canon musician

St. Mark’s Cathedral has long been known for its various music programs and concerts. Built as a parish church in 1910 and designated a cathedral in 1941, it has during that time seen six directors of music as well as a number of rebuilds and additions to the original four-manual Welte installed in 1928. As musical tastes changed throughout the century, the tonal plan of the organ became distorted, becoming a combination of classical and romantic sounds, leading to a loss of identity for the instrument. 

The various additions also led to a chronic lack of space within the organ chamber, preventing access for tuning and repair to pipes bending over with metal fatigue. Equally worrying was the damage done to the winding as abundant leaks had resulted in pressure drops throughout the organ. 

In 2010 the cathedral launched a capital campaign, included in which was repair to the organ’s winding. However, on closer inspection it soon became apparent that problems ran very deep and fixing the leaks would in fact be a waste of money. Major action was required. The choice was stark—total reconditioning or a new instrument. This was an easy decision: much of the original Welte chorus was in good condition and had such quality and character that it could become the basis of a major overhaul. 

Next came the biggest challenge—persuading the vestry and the congregation that a lot of money needed to be spent to keep the organ in working order. To many, of course, the organ sounded just fine, as it always had. As is often the case, organists’ abilities to mask faults and ciphers go unnoticed by the majority. However, thanks to many organ tours and presentations by both committee and builder, and the fact that music and the pipe organ are such an integral part of worship at the cathedral, we were able to reach our target of $1.2 million.

In consultation with our selected firm, Foley-Baker Inc., a new specification was drawn up that necessitated replacing one-third of the pipework and relocating ranks from the gallery to the main organ. Of primary concern was an instrument to accompany the liturgy, from providing subtlety and color for the cathedral choir’s large repertoire to giving stimulating leadership to congregational hymnody. If the organ could do both those things well it would surely prove to be an admirable recital instrument also. 

While not a particularly large four-manual instrument, at least by American standards, it has exceeded all expectations as a concert instrument: almost endless color, a vast dynamic range, and a character that is totally suited to the building, all exquisitely voiced. It is unashamedly in the English romantic style, and, having played many of the great cathedral organs in the U.K., I am delighted that we now have such a fine instrument in that tradition, as well as an organ that is true to its original intention.

—Ray Johnston

 

From the committee chair

In May 2012, the refurbished St. Mark’s organ was inaugurated for concert audience and worshipers. Those were thrilling experiences, the result of meticulous planning and craftsmanship by Canon Musician Raymond Johnston and Foley-Baker, Inc.

I was privileged to chair the organ planning committee during the last phase of its pre-construction work. This was undertaken in the context of St. Mark’s “Opening Our Doors” capital campaign, which, by any standard, was a clear success, raising over $3 million. I was also privileged to co-chair the capital campaign with Inez Bergquist, Doug Eichten, and Courtney Ward-Reichard. The capital campaign had three highly visible purposes: restore the exterior of the 100-year-old building to stop leaks and deterioration; improve a long list of interior infrastructure items; and repair/restore the pipe organ. The first two of those purposes were easy for members and contributors to see and understand, especially when ice formed inside the church and fell on folks in procession during Sunday worship. The organ was a different matter.

Even though much of the organ was well beyond maintenance and some of it dead or ciphering, it still sounded pretty good much of the time. Most of this was attributable to Ray Johnston’s talents and the marvelous acoustic characteristics of the St. Mark’s Cathedral space. We conducted behind-the-walls tours of the chambers to show potential donors the points of failure and the grossly antiquated control mechanisms, leaking air handlers, and failing wiring. We were also careful to explain that much of the tuned pipework and blower could be restored and would be maintained.  At the end of the many days, the congregation did contribute and one very generous, anonymous donor provided most of the funds needed for the more than $1 million organ project.

While Foley-Baker did their work, the entire instrument was removed and a digital organ was rented and used with speakers around the cathedral. Many regular attendees commented that they could “hear the difference” and had come to understand why it was appropriate to rebuild a fine pipe organ. That was brought home once again to me on Sunday last, when Ray Johnston offered Samuel Sebastian Wesley’s Choral Song and Fugue as the service postlude. Most of the congregation stayed to hear it and to celebrate the glory of the rebuilt organ.  

—Fred Moore

John Bishop

It works for me.

After I graduated from Oberlin, we lived in a rented four-bedroom farmhouse with a huge yard in the rolling countryside a few miles outside the town. Foreshadowing fracking, there was a natural gas well on the property that supplied the house. It was a great place to live, but there were some drawbacks. The gas flowed freely from the well in warm weather, but was sluggish in cold. The furnace was mounted on tall legs because the basement flooded. All the plumbing in the house was in a wing that included kitchen, bathroom, and laundry machines, but the basement didn’t extend under the wing, so the pipes froze in cold weather. 

After a couple winters there, we had wrapped the pipes with electrified heating tape, mastered how to set the furnace to run just enough when the gas well was weak, and learned to anticipate when the basement would flood so we could run a pump and head off the mess. 

Outside, there was a beautiful redbud tree, several huge willows, acres of grass to mow, and the residual effects of generations of enthusiastic gardening. One summer, the peonies on either side of the shed door grew at radically different rates. One was huge and lush while the other was spindly. I was curious until I investigated and found an opossum carcass under the healthy one. Not that you would read The Diapason for gardening tips, but I can tell you that a dead ’possum will work wonders for your peonies!

I wanted to care for that landscape, so I bought an old walk-behind Gravely tractor with attachments. I could swap mower for roto-tiller for snow-blower, and there was a sulky—a two-wheeled trailer with a seat that allowed me to ride behind when mowing. I remember snatching cherry tomatoes off the vines, hot from the sunlight, as I motored past the garden.

I was the only one who could get the Gravely to start, at least I think so, given that I was only one who used it. It had a manual choke that had to be set just so. Then, as I pressed the starter button with my right toe, I’d move the throttle from fully closed to about a quarter open, and the engine would catch. I’d run it at that slow speed for about ten seconds, and it would be ready to work. If I did anything different, it would stall.

 

The bigger the toys . . .

I learned a lot about machines from Tony Palkovic who lived across the street. He had an excavating business and owned a fleet of huge machines. One weekend I helped him remove the drive wheels from his 110,000-pound Caterpillar D-9 bulldozer to replace the bearings. It involved a couple house jacks and 6-inch open-end wrenches that were eight feet long and weighed a hundred pounds. He used his backhoe to lift the wheels off the axles, not a job for “triple A.” I admired his affinity for his machines, and it was fun to watch him operate them. The way he combined multiple hydraulic movements with his fingertips on the levers created almost human-like motions, and he liked to show off by picking up things like soda cans with the bucket of a 40-ton machine.

 

The soul of the machine

In The Soul of the New Machine (Little, Brown, and Company, 1981), author Tracy Kidder follows the development of a new generation of computer technology, and grapples with the philosophical questions surrounding the creation and advances of “high-tech.” We’re beholden to it (witness the lines at Apple stores recently as the new iPhone was released), but we might not be sure if the quality of our lives is actually improved. Yesterday, a friend tweeted, “There’s a guy in this coffee shop sitting at a table, not on his phone, not on a laptop, just drinking coffee, like a psychopath.” Have you ever sat on a rock, talking with a friend, dangling your toes in the water until the rising tide brings the water up to your knees?

There’s a mystical place where soul and machine combine to become a pipe organ. The uninitiated might look inside an organ and see only mechanical mysteries. Many organs are damaged or compromised by uninformed storage of folding chairs and Christmas decorations within. But the organ is a complex machine whose inanimate character must disappear so as not to interfere with the making of music.

Musicians have intimate relationships with their instruments. In Violin Dreams (Houghton Mifflin Company, 2006, page 5), Arnold Steinhardt, first violinist of the Guarneri Quartet, writes, “When I hold the violin, my left arm stretches lovingly around its neck, my right hand draws the bow across the strings like a caress, and the violin itself is tucked under my chin, in a place halfway between my brain and my beating heart.” 

No organist can claim such an affinity, not even with the tiniest, most sensitive continuo organ. Steinhardt refers to instruments that you “play at arm’s length.” More usually, the organist sits at a set of keyboards separated from the instrument by at least several feet, and sometimes by dozens or even hundreds of feet. And in the case of electric or electro-pneumatic keyboard actions, he is removed from any direct physical or mechanical connection with the instrument he’s playing. He might as well phone it in.

A pipe organ of average size is a complex machine. A thirty-stop organ has about 1,800 pipes. If it’s a two-manual tracker organ, there are 154 valves controlled by the keys, a system of levers (multiplied by thirty) to control the stops, a precisely balanced action chassis with mechanical couplers, and a wind system with self-regulating valves, along with any accessories that may be included. If it’s a two-manual electro-pneumatic organ, there are 1,800 note valves, 122 manual primary valves (twice that many if it’s a Skinner organ), and hundreds of additional valves for stop actions, bass notes, and accessories.

But the conundrum is that we expect all that machinery to disappear as we play. We work to eliminate every click, squeak, and hiss. We expect massive banks of expression shutters to open and close instantly and silently. We’re asking a ten-ton machine in a monumental space to emulate Arnold Steinhardt’s loving caress. 

 

It’s a “one-off.”

Most of the machines we use are mass-produced. The car you buy might be the 755,003rd unit built to identical specifications on an automated assembly line. If there’s a defect, each unit has the same defect. But while individual components in an organ, such as windchest actions, might be standardized at least to the instruments of a single builder, each pipe organ is essentially a prototype—one of a kind. The peculiarities of an organ chamber or organ case determine the routes of mechanical actions, windlines, and tuning access. The layout of the building determines where the blower will be located, as well as the relationship between musician and machine.

The design of the instrument includes routing wind lines from blower to reservoirs, and from reservoirs to windchests. Each windchest has a support system: ladders, passage boards, and handrails as necessary to allow the tuner access to all the pipes. An enclosed division has a frame in which the shutters are mounted and a mechanism to open and close the shutters, either by direct mechanical linkage or a pneumatic or electric machine. Some expressive divisions are enclosed in separate rooms of the building with the expression frame and shutters being the only necessary construction, but others are freestanding within the organ, so the organbuilder provides walls, ceiling, access doors, ladders, and passage boards as required. The walls and ceiling are ideally made of a heavy, sound-deadening material so the shutter openings are the only path for egress of sound.

 

What’s in a tone?

Galileo said, “Mathematics is the language in which God wrote the universe.” While it may not be immediately apparent, mathematics is the heart of the magic of organ pipes. Through centuries of experimentation, organbuilders have established “norms” that define the differences between, say, flute tone and principal tone. The physical characteristics of organ pipes that determine their tone are defined using ratios. The “scale” of the pipe is the ratio of the length to the diameter. The “cut-up” that defines the height of a pipe’s mouth is the ratio of mouth height to the mouth width. The “mouth width” is the ratio of mouth width to the circumference. The type and thickness of the metal is important to the tone, so the organbuilder has to calculate, or guess, what material to use in order to achieve just the tone he’s looking for.

Finally, the shape of the pipe’s resonator is a factor. A tapered pipe sounds different from a cylindrical pipe, and the taper is described as a ratio of bottom diameter to top diameter. A square wooden pipe sounds different from a round metal pipe. A stopped wooden pipe sounds different from a capped metal pipe, even if the scales are identical. When comparing the scale of a wood pipe to that of a metal pipe, the easiest criterion is the area of the pipe’s cross section—depth times width of the wood pipe is compared to πr² of the metal pipe. If the results of those two formulas are equal, the scale is the same.

The reason all these factors affect the tone of the pipes is that each different design, each different shape, each different material chosen emphasizes a different set of harmonics. The organbuilder, especially the voicer or the tuner, develops a sixth sense for identifying types of pipes by their sounds. He instantly hears the difference between a wood Bourdon and a metal Gedeckt, or between the very narrow-scale Viole d’Orchestre and the slightly broader Salicional. He can tell the difference between high and low cutup just by listening. Conversely, his intuition tells him which selections of stops, which types of material, what level of wind pressure will produce the best sounding organ for the building.

The keen-eared organist can intuit all this information. Why does a Rohrflöte 8′ sound good with a Koppelflöte 4′? You may not know the physical facts that produce the complementary harmonics, but if you’re listening well, you sure can hear them. Early in my organ studies, a teacher told me not to use a Flute 4′ with a Principal 8′. Fair enough. That’s true in many cases. But it might be magical on a particular organ. Ask yourself if a combination sounds good—if it sounds good, it probably is good.

 

The whole is greater than the sum of the parts.

If the organ is part machine and part mathematics, and the musician is physically separated from the creation of tone, how can it be musical or artistic? How can an organist achieve the sensitivity of a violinist or a clarinetist who have direct physical control over the creation of tone? If you don’t have a good embouchure, you don’t make pretty sounds.

While I’ve talked about mechanisms and the mystical properties of the sound of the pipes driven by their math, we’re still missing something. Without wind, we have nothing but a big pile of wood, metal, and leather. Wind is a lively, living commodity. It has character and life. It’s endlessly variable. Outdoors in the open climate, wind is capricious. Any sailor knows that. You can be roaring along with white water boiling from under your transom, sails and sheets taut, and suddenly you fall flat as the wind dies. Or it shifts direction a few points and instead of drawing you along, it stops you dead.

Inside our organs, we harness the wind. We use electric blowers that provide a strong steady supply of wind, we build windlines and ducts that carry the wind from one place to another without loss through leakage. We design regulators with valves that regulate the wind (we also call them reservoirs because they store the regulated pressurized air), and respond to the demands of the music by allowing air to pass through as the valves open and the speaking pipes demand it, and our windchest actions operate those valves as commanded by the keyboards under the hands of the musician.

When you’re sitting on the bench, or inside the organ chamber, and the organ blower is off, the whole thing is static, inanimate. It’s like the violin or clarinet resting on padded velvet inside a locked case. I’ve always loved the moment when the blower is turned on when I’m inside an organ. You hear the first rotations of the motor, the first whispers of air stirring from the basement, and a creak or two as reservoirs fill and the springs pull taut. Hundreds of things are happening. When the blower is running at full speed and all the reservoirs have filled, the organ is alive and expectant—waiting to be told what to do. And at the first touch of the keyboard, the music begins.

Defining the indefinable

Once we’re playing, we enter the world of metaphysics. Intellectually, we understand how everything is functioning, but philosophically, we can hardly believe it’s true. Combinations of stops blend to create tone colors that otherwise wouldn’t exist. Peculiarities of acoustics create special effects heard in one location, but nowhere else. The motion of the air is apparent in the sound of the pipes, not, as a wag might quip, because faulty balance or low supply makes the wind wiggle, but because that air is alive as it moves through the organ’s appliances.

It’s that motion of wind that gives the organ soul. This is why the sounds of an electronic instrument can never truly equal those of the pipe organ. Sound that is digitally reproduced and funneled through loudspeakers can never have life. The necessary perfection of repetition of electronic tone defies the liveliness of the pipe organ. Just like the mouth-driven clarinet, it’s impossible that every wind-driven organ pipe will sound exactly the same, every time it’s played. It’s the millions of nearly imperceptible variations that give the thing life.

This starts to explain how the most mechanical and apparently impersonal of musical instruments can respond differently to the touch of different players. I’ve written several times about our experience of attending worship on Easter Sunday at St. Thomas’s Church in New York, when after hearing different organists playing dozens of voluntaries, hymns, responses, and accompaniments, the late John Scott slid onto the bench to play the postlude. The huge organ there is in questionable condition and soon to be replaced, but nonetheless, there was something about the energy passing through Scott’s fingers onto the keys that woke the gale that is the organ’s wind system and set the place throbbing. It was palpable. It was tangible. It was indescribable, and it was thrilling.

§

My friend Tony cared about his machines, not just because they were the tools with which he made his living, but because their inanimate whims responded to his understanding. We survived in that beguiling but drafty and imperfect house because as we loved it, we got to know it, and outsmarted most of its shortcomings. And I had lots of fun with that old Gravely, taking care of it, coaxing it to start, and enjoying the results of the mechanical effort.

Tony’s D-9 moved dirt—lots of dirt. But the sound of the organ moves me. And because I see it moving others, it moves me more. It’s all about the air.

Grandall & Engen, 

Maple Grove, Minnesota

Schaefer organ, ca. 1910

St. Mary’s Ridge Catholic Church, St. Mary’s Ridge (Cashton), Wisconsin

The Schaefer Organ Company of Slinger (Schleisingerville), Wisconsin, was active from about 1880–1950, supplying tubular-pneumatic and electro-pneumatic action organs. Originally called the Wisconsin Pipe Organ Factory and owned by Bernard Schaefer, it was later renamed B. Schaefer and Sons, and finally the Schaefer Organ Company. The Organ Historical Society organ database lists some 45 organs by Schaefer, mostly in Wisconsin, Minnesota, and Illinois. Two were installed in New York City.

The 11-rank tubular-pneumatic Schaefer at St. Mary’s Ridge, outside of Cashton, Wisconsin (south of Sparta), was installed sometime around 1910. Under the guidance of Fr. Michael Klos, the church has undergone an extensive and historically informed restoration. The restored building provides a view into traditional Roman Catholic architecture of the late nineteenth century, with three carved altars and polychrome paintings on the ceiling. While the organ was being removed in late 2013, the flooring in the chancel was replaced with solid maple and walnut repurposed from the nearby school prior to its demolition. The new floor sets off the painted altar pieces and further enhances the live acoustics.

The modest organ is in a natural oak Gothic case in the center of the balcony, where its sound reflects from the arched ceiling to fill the room. There is evidence behind the organ of an arch in the bell tower that was filled in when the organ was installed. The detached console required hundreds of feet of lead tubes to control the 11 ranks and the sub and super couplers in the original, and a hand-pumped feeder bellows filled an enormous reservoir in the base of the oak case. The hand pump was abandoned when a blower was placed in the unheated bell tower, where its roar was somewhat muffled by the heavy bricks of the tower.

The internal layout is very much like that of tracker organs built around 1900. The free-standing Swell box is at the back, with the Great immediately in front. The façade consists of bass pipes of both the 8′ Open Diapason and 4′ Octave, all painted. The 16′ Subbass stands at floor level along the sides of the case, with the open wood 8′ Bass Flute across the back behind the Swell box.

The Schaefer tubular mechanism was very cleverly designed and extremely modular. The organ should have been easy to service, but its rural location required lengthy travel time to reach. It was not the beneficiary of much work by technicians over the years. The little work it did receive consisted mostly of leather patching and sealing as the tubular action began to fail. There is also evidence of window screen material inserted in an attempt to keep mice away from the tender leather! When we took the organ out in late 2013, Fr. Klos, himself an organist, told us it had not been playable for at least 20 years.  

In order to hear a bit of the mute organ, we “hot-wired” it with screwdrivers to open valves with ruptured pouches. Very little would play. But we heard enough, both this way and by blowing on a few pipes, so that it was obvious this organ had a lot of potential. The live response in the room also seemed to be very promising.

The pipes were in excellent condition, although they were understandably dirty. Nobody had ever tried to “baroquify” this organ, so all pipes were in original condition. The three pedal chests held promise for rebuilding (later abandoned), but the manual chests were completely beyond reuse if we hoped to make the organ reliable and give it longevity.

We could have restored the tubular chests, but this action is known to have a fairly short lifespan in Wisconsin’s climate. Had we restored all of the leather in the hundreds of pouches, we would have condemned the organ once again to eventual failure. It is similar to tracker organs of the same era, so we opted for tone channel chests. What to do about the key and stop action? The organ never had tracker action, and with a detached console at the balcony rail, it would have been a tricky—but possible—undertaking to create a tracker action. The preponderance of 8′ stops would have required large pallets and a heavy action. The presence of sub and super couplers from its inception placed a tracker action out of the running. We opted instead for Blackinton-style tone channel chests, built by Organ Supply Industries, with new keyboards, a new nameboard by Peterson, and relay and combination action by Syndyne.

This rural location also indicated that we wanted the organ to be extremely reliable—especially in case of lightning strike. After all, St. Mary’s Ridge is a high point of land, and with a high steeple, we could assume the church has had its share of strikes. The local electrician, a member of the parish, was advised on how to double-ground the organ so it is grounded both when it is running and when it is shut off. Standard organ circuits on the 120-volt side do not regularly ground the organ when it is off, so this is a little unusual and required some special components.

The old blower in the tower was immediately ruled out for reuse. In addition to its noise, it drew in sub-zero air in the dead of winter from the unheated tower. We wanted the organ to be more stable, so a new Laukhuff blower was put into a double box for soundproofing, with both intake and output silencing baffles. It is truly silent. A 3′ x 4′ single-rise reservoir supplies air to the two slider chests, and a smaller reservoir supplies the two pedal stops. All is installed within the base.

After cleaning, we found that the pipes were in need of only minor regulating and voicing correction. The one exception was the large pipes of the façade. The toes had gradually closed under the weight of these pipes. After opening up the toes and correcting some low languids, the heroic nature of the typical 8′ Diapason of this era emerged to provide a solid foundation for the organ and to carry beautifully throughout the room.

The preponderance of 8′ stops was a puzzle until they were all playing again in the room. Concerned about the need for super couplers, we took the opportunity to add a 2′ stop to each manual—a Fifteenth to the Great and a Harmonic Piccolo to the Swell. While these additions are successful and add variety, we found that the 8′ stops are all different and each contributes in its own way. In particular, the Dulciana is not as soft as many such examples and has considerable body. The Aeoline, though almost inaudible in our shop, has a lovely edge and even with the swell box closed it can be heard everywhere in the church. The Violin Diapason is a perfect foundation for the Swell and contrasts with the Open Diapason of the Great. The Salicional is extremely bright and, in fact, almost fulfills the function of a mixture and reed by providing many high harmonics. The flutes are not exceptional, although they are all different. The 4′ Flute d’Amour pipes are wood, with pierced stoppers.

We are grateful to Fr. Klos for having the vision to renovate the Schaefer organ and the faith in his congregation to fund it. The “new” organ functions essentially the same as it had when built, although it now has the advantage of a multi-level combination action, a transposer, reversibles, and an “auto-bass” Pedal-to-Great coupler for those who don’t use their feet (a reality in this area). There is a crescendo pedal as it had before, and the swell linkage is still mechanical. The best stop, of course, is the wonderful acoustic of this room, and the organ’s location near the ceiling projects its tones throughout the room. Both building and organ are now ready for their next century.

Andrew Paul Fredel, music director at Gethsemane Episcopal Church in Minneapolis and a member of our staff, played a re-dedication concert to a large and appreciative crowd on Sunday, October 12, 2014. Much of the music was drawn in spirit from the early years of this organ. The organ is admittedly small, and much of its strength is in the wide variety of softer unison stops. The program sought to highlight these sounds and display, within its limits, the large range of musical options available.

There are many Schaefer organs in the Midwest. We found the Schaefer design to be rich tonally, and it is unfortunate that so many of their instruments were built with a key action doomed to early failure. This project proved conclusively that on top of new slider chests an old organ can be brought back to life and might even surpass what was originally built.

—David Engen and David Grandall Grandall & Engen LLC

Maple Grove, Minnesota

 

Grandall & Engen staff

David Grandall

David Engen

Luke Tegtmeier

Andrew Fredel

Paul Clasen

Zach Clasen

Lynn Thorson

Laura Potratz

Eric Hobbs

Austin Organs, 

Hartford, Connecticut

Opus 2344 (1961 and 2014)

St. Mark’s Episcopal Church,

New Canaan, Connecticut

In New Canaan, Connecticut, just north of a town landmark known as “God’s Acre,” an imposing edifice rises from the staid landscape. St. Mark’s Church was erected in 1961. Approaching from the south, the church beckons your creative spirit as it heralds the artistry that pervades its sacred space. The entrance of the church, facing an elegant, grassy commons to the south, is easily accessed from the street. Entering the two large, intricately carved doors one finds oneself inside an impressive sanctuary that evokes the feeling of a Gothic cathedral. Triangular vaults rise up majestically from towering concrete columns. The altar is clearly the focal point of the room, but behind the altar stands an equally impressive reredos approximately 35 feet wide, standing some 40 feet in the air, displaying 184 intricately carved figures. It was designed by sculptor Clark Fitz-Gerald, whose works can be found in Columbia University, Independence Hall in Philadelphia, Carnegie Hall, and Coventry Cathedral in England. 

Behind this acoustically transparent screen stands Austin Organs’ Opus 2344, dedicated by John Weaver in a concert on January 7, 1962. In 2014, Austin installed several new stops and completed an extensive tonal redesign of the instrument.

 

From the musician

In 2000, we started discussion about completing some major work on the organ. We thought it important to return to the company that gave birth to the instrument, so we called Austin Organs in Hartford for an evaluation and recommendations. Unfortunately the church was not ready to proceed with the project at that point, so the plan was placed on hold. When we revisited the project in 2008, I was surprised and pleased to reconnect with my former schoolmate from Westminster Choir College, Mike Fazio, who was now president and tonal director of the Austin company. 

As fate would have it, the company, now reborn under the auspices of the new owners, has revisited some of the original Austin organbuilding and voicing practices—their mindset moving beyond the so-common trend of “what’s happening now” and going back to some of the venerable earlier ideals. This philosophy is happily right in line with my own personal vision for this organ. I think that this key point in our collaboration helped lead to the successful rebirth of this instrument. Further, I believe that the combination of the talents of the outstanding Austin craftspeople, some who have been with the company for many years, along with the new administration, who respect the past but also embrace the future, to be a winning combination without equal. Working on this project, I was always confident in our conversations about the direction of the instrument, and I was pleased with the outcome, because we were consistently in sync. They always listened to my vision, and it felt like we were always on the same page with the ultimate goal.

When I arrived in 1998, it was already an organ to be proud of, and I was very happy to be playing this Austin, because it essentially worked well in this space. But today, with the tonal work and expansion, it has become much more versatile. While the organ certainly could have been defined as “American Classic,” I would now say that, while that character remains, we now have the impression of an “English Town Hall” instrument. The organ can handle a broader spectrum of literature, and I find that I can accompany the service in a much more exciting way. When I use the term “exciting,” I am not just talking about louder sounds, I am talking about the inclusion of some softer voices imparting more interesting nuance than there was previously. Utilizing the new timbres available in the pedal organ, the organ has developed a new undergirding that has truly helped its effectiveness in hymn accompaniment, among other things. The inventiveness of the Austin company in finding a creative way to add real pipes (installing a full-length 16′ reed in the Swell, and a full-length 32′ reed in the Pedal, and of course, the 32′/16′ Pedal Bourdon) was amazing! The 16′ Bourdon is also an excellent addition, as it helps support the lower voices in the choir and congregation. I am so proud to be able to boast that all of our additions are real pipes, real chimes, and a real harp, without having to resort to the digital versions. I am convinced that these real voices do add significant richness and quite amazing harmonic underpinning. I am therefore able to play the organ in a much fuller way than I could previously. This has improved both my musical creativity and the choir and congregation’s singing in response. 

—Brian-Paul Thomas

Organist and Choirmaster

From the builder

The organ has excellent tonal projection from its lofty position on the central axis of the church. Its tonal disposition is somewhat reminiscent of the late work of Austin’s most famous tonal designer, James Blaine Jamison (1882–1957). He began with the Austin Company in 1933, and his impact was rather dramatic. Early in his relationship with the company, he redefined the Austin Diapason scaling system and introduced his concepts for ensemble structure and voicing, which were quickly adopted and became common practice for a generation. Richard Piper (tonal director from 1952–1978,) continued the same trend, but imparted his own stamp on the company’s work. Piper had apprenticed for nearly a decade under Henry Willis III, working on many of England’s monumental instruments, his final work being the Dome Organ at St. Paul’s Cathedral, London. Coming to Austin, he was able to impart a bit of English nuance to the Austin version of the American Classic tonal ensemble, but that nuance did not seem to be present in this instrument. My predecessor at Austin Organs, Bruce Buchanan, visited the organ in September 2000. His impression was congruous with my own, in that he proclaimed, “St. Mark’s organ is a version of American Classic with North-European leanings. This means brightness has been preferred to brilliance, and clarity to body.” It was interesting to find his notes some months after I had submitted my own assessment to the church with similar findings.

The St. Mark’s organ had been an interesting platform for Richard Piper’s tonal experimentation. The Great and Positiv were voiced on low pressure (2¾′′ wind). It would appear that the Great Organ had the strongest North-German influence: light Prinzipal scaling, heavy mixture scaling, and the foundation apparently based on the 16′ Quintaton. Overall, the division exhibited bright ensemble tone and the Positiv was much like it. The Swell was designed with somewhat stronger English influence. It, like the Choir, was voiced on 4′′ of wind presure. It was built with colorful flutes, and lush string tone; it also had a full reed chorus, yet not a proper Oboe; there was a high-pitched Plein Jeu, yet the department lacked a full principal chorus. The Choir flue chorus is made up of flutes, independent cornet mutations, and a Gemshorn and Celeste. The Choir reeds included a rather thin Krummhorn (3/4′′ scale) and an 8′ Trumpet, voiced on 6′′ of wind pressure. In the style of many fine Austin instruments of the period, this organ’s Pedal division had nine independent ranks of pipes, beginning with a generous 16′ Open Wood Contra Bass, through a Pedal Mixture and reed chorus. At some point in history, an electronic 32′ Bourdon extension was added, but had failed and was disconnected several years ago.

Approaching the organ’s tonal redesign, we had some specific goals in mind: improve the Diapason chorus, revoice/replace some existing reeds, and supplement the Pedal department. Other enhancements became possible as the project developed. For example, while we would have liked to build a new, movable, drawknob console for the instrument, a decision was made for the present time to maintain the existing console. It was certainly showing its age, but we decided to add new stopkeys in situ for the new voices. This approach would allow us to use more available funds for tonal work as a first step. It would seem that God had other thoughts. Within a month of signing the contract for the tonal work, the church was hit by an electrical storm that disabled the console, along with the church’s sound system. We removed the console to the factory, and installed a new multiplexed console and organ control system, featuring a fiber-optic connection between the console and the organ’s Universal Air Chest. While back “home” in the factory, the manual and pedal claviers were refurbished, all new wiring and stop controls were installed, and the elegant black walnut casework finish was also restored. 

 

Tonal matters

The first matter to address was the wind pressure. To achieve the aural presence we collectively desired, we recognized that the pressure needed to be increased. To that end, we chose to increase the wind pressure to 4′′ water column for the entire instrument. Next, we needed to make a decision regarding the disposition of the Great Organ’s 16′ Quintaton, which had been partly replaced (from 8′ C) several years earlier with Bourdon pipes. The breakpoint from the 8′ to the 16′ octave was abominable, and the effect of the Quintaton in general was counterproductive to our desired ensemble. The Great Mixture was overwhelming and the rest of the chorus was anemic. Our sweeping decision was to remove the entire Quintaton from the specification, and to achieve a manual 16′ voice, install a new Austin Internal Borrow action in the chest that would play the Pedal 16′ Spitz Flute as a Great stop. Previously, this stop was only available in the manual at 8′ pitch, and 16′ in the Pedal. Austin’s voicer Dan Kingman revoiced these pipes to create an excellent Viole de Gamba. Being mildly conical (1/2 taper), we adjusted the nomenclature to reflect that construction, calling it a Spitz Viole. As a manual 16′ and 8′ borrow, it has proven to be extremely successful. While we were sweeping through the organ, we chose to “wash” the 1960s voicing out of the Great Bourdon, which resulted in a flute with more warmth and fundamental. The Diapason and Principal were rescaled, and the Spitz Fifteenth replaced with a new set of Principal pipes that work well with this new chorus. The existing Fourniture was also replaced with new pipes, scaled and voiced to fit perfectly with the new scheme. The final element was the inclusion of a new reed stop for the Great. After much discussion, the choice was made to install an English Horn. Rather than yet another Trumpet, or something from the Clarinet family, we concluded that an English Horn would serve equally well as either a gentle solo or ensemble voice. 

In the Swell, we regret that we were unable to add a new Diapason, as space would not allow it. However, the large scale Viola and Flute are rather successful, evoking “synthetic Diapason” tone, to quote the late G. Donald Harrison. A vintage 4′ Wald Flute was installed to replace the original, which was removed several years ago, having been replaced with the Koppelflute from the Positiv, where it was subsequently returned. The 8′ octave of the Rohrflute was moved off the main chest, and in its place we located the 12 lowest pipes of the 16′ Waldhorn (full-length). The rather pleasant 8′ (French) Trumpet was revoiced to blend well in the ensemble, and a new 8′ (English) Oboe was installed. As a compromise to allow the installation of the Oboe, we removed the 4′ Clarion, (which was rather thin) and extended the Waldhorn to 4′ pitch to complete the chorus. Also added to the organ was a vintage Austin Vox Humana. This particular type is affectionately known as a “Vox-in-a-Box,” as the pipes are entirely placed within an encased chest that hangs directly in front of the Swell expression shades and can be adjusted for dynamic by opening or closing the top cover of said box. The effect of the Vox Humana in this church is extremely successful—it shimmers like a “chorus of voices in the distance!” Finally, the high-pitched mixture was removed and replaced with a new IV–V Plein Jeu, starting at 22⁄3′ pitch. It provides a measure of gravitas to the ensemble, whether flues or reeds. 

In the Choir, we removed the thin, baroque Krummhorn, and replaced it with an 8′ Cremona, which is a hybrid stop that is constructed as a Clarinet in the lower registers, then it morphs into our Cromorne scale in the treble. This treatment delivers the color of a rich Clarinet in the tenor range and the brightness of a French Cromorne in the right hand. As a matter of course, the existing high-pressure Trumpet was reconstructed (new tuning inserts, etc.) and revoiced.

The changes to the Pedal division were rather dramatic. We were able to redesign the offset chests at the sides of the main organ to allow the installation of a 32′ and 16′ Bourdon. More dramatic yet, we chose to extend the Swell 16′ Waldhorn (a time-honored tradition) to become the 32′ Pedal reed. Organist Brian-Paul Thomas was very clear in his vision for this voice: he did not want a jackhammer or clatter, but smooth dark tone. Using this thought as a guideline, we scaled this stop moderately, and consequently, the 12 full-length resonators fit nicely in the space occupied by the former Quintaton, located in a split arrangement on either side of the Great chest.

The other two voices added to the organ were a set of Deagan Class A chimes, and a vintage Austin Harp. These two percussions also work very nicely in this space.

 

Conclusion

We find the new instrument is exciting, rich, and versatile. It has a delicious, smooth crescendo from pianissimo to fortissimo, never missing a step! These changes were made possible because of the amazing flexibility of the Austin Universal Airchest design. Having been at the helm of Austin since 2005, I am still constantly in awe of the versatility of the Austin system. 

In a future article, we would like to discuss the transformation of a few Austin organs. These instruments were built in the same time period (the mid-1960s). The tonal disposition of each organ was very similar, and they were stereotypical of the period, and desperate for change! The study of the resulting specifications will serve as empirical evidence for any church with an organ, especially an Austin, thinking that there is no hope for a rather bland tonal ensemble. The transformation of each organ was completed with remarkable success—each one unique. We are also embarking on a plan to make a collective recording of these instruments.

While history furnishes a wealth of motivation, we are confident that new avenues and designs are only just around the corner that may enhance earlier efforts. As surely as we are inspired by the triumphs of the past, we face the challenges of today by building organs that will continue to inspire interest beyond today, beyond tomorrow, and into the next generation. Art is only art when it represents the best efforts of the Creator, with both eyes open to even greater possibilities. We aim to create something significant for worship and the performance of great music, and in the greater sphere, to offer our own illumination of how music might be made.

—Michael B. Fazio

Austin Organs, Inc.

President and Tonal Director

 

 

 

 

Kegg Pipe Organ Builders, 

Hartville, Ohio: Sacred Heart Church, 

New Philadelphia, Ohio

Kegg Pipe Organ Builders, 

Hartville, Ohio

Sacred Heart Church, 

New Philadelphia, Ohio

 

From the organbuilder

I recently agreed with a colleague who said you can determine a pipe organ builder’s priorities by the design of his smaller instruments. Large instruments are easier to design because you have all the sounds required. Nothing needs to be left out; the only decision is where to place everything. In smaller instruments, decisions must be made regarding how to best use the resources available, and these reveal just what is most important to the builder. While our firm has built many large pipe organs, we have made something of a name for ourselves with our smaller instruments, and it is in these instruments where you can discover our personal priorities for a parish pipe organ.

Some builders would say that any organ of 12 stops would be simply 12 stops. Since I was a young man discovering the pipe organ, I have always felt that the best use of funds, and the desire for an interesting specification, indicate that careful borrowing of stops between manuals and pedal was the better design choice for the smaller instrument than the academic approach. To do this requires some kind of unit windchest action. Many years ago I chose to work with the all-electric unit action to see if it could be built such that the undesirable pipe speech characteristics associated with this action could be corrected with careful execution. This action offers complete freedom of chest layout, and it can offer long, trouble-free life. After research and development and years of use, the Kegg all-electric action is now a highly evolved system, using oversized valves that feed copious wind to each pipe by way of an expansion chamber. The expansion chamber then conditions the wind to the pipe such that it has a gentle attack and release. With this action, borrows are economical while retaining integrity of pipe speech. Unity of speech is assured, regardless of the size of the instrument, or how many stops and couplers are in use.

Our new instrument for Sacred Heart Church in New Philadelphia, Ohio is an example of what I consider close to ideal for a parish church. At 12 stops and 15 ranks, it is not small. It is large enough to include a great deal of color and variety, while still being affordable, and it can physically fit into many spaces. The key to successful unit organ design is restraint, careful scaling, and of course finish voicing of the organ in its final location. Scaling of the pipes must be treated differently for a successful result on an extended set of pipes. It is a different treatment than you would give to the same pipes for a straight stop, and it eliminates the “unit” sound that older highly unified organs usually exhibit.

The stoplist of a successful unit organ must contain a core ensemble that is essentially straight. In the design of this organ, the Great contains a chorus of 16-8-4-IV with no borrowing. There are two flute ranks of different character. The wood Gedeckt is typical. The Spitzflute is delicate in the bass and increases in volume as you ascend the scale. This makes a softer 8′ that can still sit above the Gedeckt well when used at the 4′ pitch, and also provides a sparkling 2′. Note that the flutes are distributed differently on each manual. Unification is minimized within each manual and the sounds, both individually and in combination, are very different on each manual. This is another example of carefully “breaking the rules,” while providing an interesting organ to play. The unification of the stops is musically invisible.

Kegg organs of this size are surprising because they give the player and the listener the impression that they are larger than they actually are. Several key design features contribute to this, including musical effects that are usually found only on larger instruments. Some of these design features are effective swell shades, a string celeste pair that are not too soft, more than one enclosed reed stop, at least one reed stop that continues to 16′ completely within the swell box, and if possible, a special sound that is not expected from a smaller instrument. In the case of the Sacred Heart organ, we have all of these things.

The organ is entirely enclosed, with the exception of the 8′ Great Principal and the 16′ Pedal Bourdon. The effective swell shades allow the strings to be more aggressive because you have control over them. The 8′ stops are of similar volume, allowing combinations to blend while retaining individual color. The Spitzflute’s milky sound gives the impression of a very soft stop with the shades closed. Having a Trumpet and an Oboe on an organ of 12 stops is a happy discovery for the musician. One reed stop doesn’t have to play all the reed parts. The Oboe can be gentle, while the Trumpet can shine. You are not limited to one “medium” stop trying to be all things for all music. Having the Trumpet extended to 16′ pitch and enclosed provides the exciting sound of fiery reeds behind closed shades that is frequently heard only on larger instruments. An additional special sound on this organ is the Sesquialtera II on the Great. The flexibility of our chest action permits using the lowest rank of the Mixture for the tenor-C 22⁄3′ partial, thus only needing the additional 37 small pipes of the TC 13⁄5′ to be independent for this stop, and these pipes can be bold. Thus we have a strong leading solo voice that takes little room in the organ, plus it is another sound that is not expected in an instrument of 12 stops.

Another significant and unusual sound in this organ is the 16′ Violone. This stop is an extension of the Viole and is slender in scale in the Cavaillé-Coll tradition. It is entirely enclosed within the swell box. The incisiveness of this stop blends well with the substantial Bourdon. It is a very present help when registering an intriguing Pedal line. It would be a welcome addition to any instrument, but particularly in one where only a single 16′ Bourdon is usually found.

While this instrument would be effective in an intimate room, Sacred Heart Church seats approximately 400 people, was built in the early 20th century, and enjoys a superb acoustic with an empty reverberation time in excess of three seconds. Placement is ideal, high in the rear gallery. The gallery is rather shallow and there is a fine rose window that commands respect. Conventional wisdom would place the organ case in the center, as was the previous instrument. Because the gallery is only 10 feet deep, even a reasonably shallow organ case would mean that the choristers would be divided on either side of the case and/or console and not be able to hear each other well. The solution was to place the organ case entirely on one side, rather than in the center. This clears sight lines for the window and keeps musicians together, leaving all remaining space in one contiguous block. The choirs are already enjoying their new togetherness, with confidence and blend being immediately elevated. The free-standing case is away from each wall, leaving an insulating space. Every part of the instrument has a roof over it. These help greatly with tuning stability, projection, and blend.

The organ case has several features of note. On the long side is a pipe shade panel that has carved and gilded representations of the symbols of the four Apostles: Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. They are, in order: a human form, a lion, a bull, and an eagle. These appear on the capitols of each column in the church, which served as the inspiration for these particular examples. The forward-facing façade will have a pipe shade that will be an illumination. It is being created now by Jed Gibbons of Chicago and will be installed in the coming weeks. The corner tower extends the visual height of the case. Wanting the organ to visually balance this tall room, I designed the 8′ Principal with long feet and forced length. The tallest pipe in this tower is almost 16′ in length. The forward façade is speaking, the side façade is mute. All pipes are polished, to reflect the filtered color from the fine windows. The constant change in light is delightful.

The console is our premium stepped-terrace drawknob design, with warm LED lighting for music rack and pedal. It is movable and includes a comprehensive combination system with unlimited piston memory, performance record/playback, and transposer. Manual keys are wood with bone and rosewood coverings. As with all our instruments, the bench is adjustable, and there is a large, center pencil drawer.

The Sacred Heart organ is an instrument that has a wide dynamic range, provides warmth, fire, and excitement for homophonic music, two contrasting choruses for polyphonic music, and balanced independence for trios. Its reeds provide color and fire. Its flutes and strings are full of warmth and sparkle. In an age when substitute instrument dealers would have you believe that you must have three manuals and 75 stops to play a hymn, it is gratifying to build, play, and listen to an instrument of only 12 stops that is so satisfying.

No pipe organ project can come to be without the support of clergy and the enthusiasm of musicians. Father Jeff Coning has been an unending fount of firm support for both his staff and this project. Music director Beth Fragasse has led the project with understated elegance, and always in a straight line toward the conclusion. To them and the congregation of Sacred Heart parish we shall be always grateful.

We invite you to come see this newest addition to the Kegg family and to explore further on our website our ideas for organs of all sizes.

—Charles Kegg

 

Kegg Pipe Organ Builders

Charles Kegg, President/Artistic Director

Philip Brown

Michael Carden

Joyce Harper

Philip Laakso

Thomas Mierau

Bruce Schutrum

 

[email protected]

330/877-8800

www.keggorgan.com

 

 

Kegg Pipe Organ Builders