Paul Manz: May 10, 1919–October 28, 2009: In Memoriam

THE DIAPASON Staff

The Diapason’s inaugural “20 under 30” selections came from a field that included over 100 nominations, a response that surprised and delighted us. The nominees were evaluated based upon information provided in the nominations; we selected only from those who had been nominated. We looked for evidence of such things as career advancement, technical skills, and creativity and innovation; we considered a nominee’s awards and competition prizes, publications and compositions, and significant positions in the mix. Our selections were not limited merely to organists but reflect the breadth of our editorial scope, which includes the organ, harpsichord, carillon, and church music. Here we present the winners’ backgrounds and accomplishments, and then have them tell us something interesting about themselves, and about their achievements, goals, and aspirations.

Since we had to decline multiple nominees for each one we chose, selecting only 20 from a field of very worthy nominees was quite a challenge. We do urge you to participate in the “20 under 30” awards next year—a person must be nominated in order to be selected. 

 

Ruth Hines Gardner died on June 14, 2003. Born on December 27, 1928, Ruth Gardner was a pioneer. By today’s standards she would be one of many great women who realize their vocations as minister of music. However, in post-war America as Rosie the Riveter went back to the household, few female organists/church musicians were relegated to high-profile positions and leadership. In spite of these odds, Ruth triumphed throughout her life as a Christian and a church musician.

Ruth was a young piano and organ student in Wilmington, Delaware, where she was a parishioner of the Cathedral Church of St. John. She later attended the Curtis Institute on scholarship in 1946. She was the only woman in a class of organists that included such names as David Craighead, Donald McDonald, and George Markey, all of whom studied with the legendary Alexander McCurdy. While at Curtis Institute, Ruth encountered the young Gian Carlo Menotti as a theory professor and even dated classmate and upcoming conductor Thomas Schippers. There are many stories that circulate about Ruth being the only female presence in the organ studio at Curtis. These times were not especially kind to women preparing to work in the church.

Ruth was noted for her ability to conduct and play. She was an expert organist in the great oratorio style. She learned this amazing skill to accompany the Mozart and Brahms Requiems as well as the B Minor Mass at McCurdy’s elbow when she was the assistant to Dr. McCurdy. After Curtis, Ruth obtained her first job in rural Virginia at a Baptist church. Marriage and a family called her back to Delaware in the early 1950s and claimed most of her attention until the early 1970s, when she entered church work again in Main Line Philadelphia and finally at Immanuel on the Green, New Castle. Ruth Gardner was no “Miss Suzie” as her rector, The Rev. Edward Godden would describe. Ruth was always looking forward yet was mindful of the tradition of the Church. Her organ recital programs always embraced Bach and contemporaries such as Messiaen and Leighton, and she frequently played from memory. When a terrible fire destroyed Immanuel on the Green in 1982, Ruth engineered the choice of Ned Rorem as composer of Immanuel’s anthem of rededication. Subsequent musical commissions included Gerre Hancock and Jack Burnam.

I met Ruth in the mid 1990s as I inherited her mantle at Immanuel Church. I could not have imagined a gentler or kinder gift. Immanuel Church couldn’t have been more prepared: a wonderful, expressive organ, a delightful historic building, a marvelous rector and a congregation and choir that could sing Anglican Chant from the Coverdale Psalter. As I worked with Ruth on the King’s College Training Course of the RSCM, I learned more important lessons: a dedication to the art and craft of church music and a dedication to the living God. A graduate of Education for Ministry (EFM), Ruth explored her faith in this ever-changing world.

Ruth was diagnosed with ovarian cancer in January 2003. After a short bout with chemotherapy, Ruth opted not to pursue treatment. In June she died while being taken care of by her family and close friends at Immanuel on the Green in New Castle after 74 years of faithful service to God, the Church, her family & friends, and her vocation.
—Jeffery Johnson
Grace Church, New York

Dean Robinson died on January 31 at the age of 78 in Rochester, Minnesota. He was carillonneur of the Rochester Carillon since 1958, and only the second carillonneur to hold that post in 75 years. Born on July 16, 1925 in Mazeppa, Minnesota, he graduated from Mazeppa High School before serving in the U.S. Navy. He then earned a bachelor’s degree from Oberlin Conservatory, Oberlin, Ohio, and a master of music degree from MacPhail College of Music in Minneapolis. He served as minister of music at Montgomery Baptist Church, Montgomery, Alabama, before returning to Mazeppa where he opened his own studio, later moving it to Rochester. He was appointed carillonneur of the Rochester Carillon in 1958 and became a member of the Guild of Carillonneurs of North America in 1961. He was a founding member of the Southeast Minnesota AGO chapter, and was an active member of the United Methodist Church in Mazeppa, where he played the organ for over 50 years. His recitals took him throughout the United States and Canada. A memorial service took place on February 11 at Calvary Episcopal Church, Rochester, with organists Robert Scoggin and Brian Williams, carillonneurs Jeffrey Daehn, Jeanine Hadley, and Bruce Rohde, the Calvary Motet Choir, and two handbell ringers.

The Rev. Dr. Victor Ira Zuck of Hagerstown, Maryland, died January 6 at the Homewood Retirement Center in Williamsport, Maryland. He was 95. Born in Hagerstown, January 29, 1908, he attended Blue Ridge College, New Windsor, Maryland. For a number of years, he was employed by M.P. Möller Organ Co. of Hagerstown, leaving during the Great Depression to perfect the second commercially successful electronic organ, known as The Orgatron, that was built and distributed by The Everett Piano Co., South Haven, Michigan. During World War II, manufacturing and patent rights were leased to the Rudolph Wurlitzer Co., North Tonawanda, New York, and when they expired in 1952, Mr. Zuck became regional manager and sales representative for M.P. Möller in Hagerstown. He was also president of Victor I. Zuck, Pipe Organs, Pittsburgh.

In his late 60s, he continued his studies for the priesthood at Trinity School for Ministry, and after ordination, served a number of churches in the Diocese of Pittsburgh. One of his great achievements while in Pittsburgh was the raising of money for the restoration of the Mother Church in the Diocese of Pittsburgh, dating from 1765, for which he received a prodigious award from The Pittsburgh History and Landmarks Foundation. During a sabbatical in 1982–83, he attended Trinity Theological Seminary, graduating in 1984 as a doctor of ministry, summa cum laude. In September 1988, he returned to his hometown to enjoy partial retirement and became a member of the Collegium of Pastoral Associates at St. John’s Episcopal Church in Hagerstown. He was a member of the American Guild of Organists, the Organ Historical Society, the American Theater Organ Society and many other organizations, and wrote many articles for miscellaneous publications. Dr. Zuck made seven trips to Europe, Asia and the Middle East from 1956 to 1976. He is survived by his wife, the former Nathalie Peterson of New York City, one daughter, four grandsons, and five great-grandchildren.

Remembering the prolific and active church musician

Elizabeth Naegele

Donald Paul Hustad, organist, choir director, radio musician, composer, arranger, scholar, educator, editor, and writer, died on June 22, 2013, at the age of 94. Active in church music for more than 85 years, he had become one of the most articulate scholars, chroniclers, and critics of the history and traditions of music in the evangelical and “free” (i.e., non-liturgical) church traditions. He wrote six books and over 100 articles, composed numerous hymns, hymn arrangements and choral octavos, edited a number of hymnals and authored hymnal companions, taught at Moody Bible Institute in Chicago and later the Southern Baptist Theological Seminary in Louisville, Kentucky, and played organ for the Billy Graham crusades beginning in the 1960s. He held two graduate music degrees from Northwestern University, plus AAGO and FRCO certificates. 

Though he retired from the Southern Baptist Theological Seminary in 1986, Hustad continued actively performing, writing, lecturing, and editing for the next two decades. Post-retirement activities included being the general editor for the hymnal, The Worshiping Church, which was first published in 1990, and revising his well-received textbook, Jubilate! Church Music in the Evangelical Tradition, first published in 1981, which was released in 1993 as Jubilate II: Church Music in Worship and Renewal. In 1989, he became a Fellow of the Hymn Society in the U.S. and Canada, in recognition of his contributions to hymnody. In 1991, Hope Publishing Company, which published music, hymnals, and books by Hustad, named him their first emeritus editor. In 2006, he received an honorary doctorate from Samford University, Birmingham, Alabama, and in 2008, he was honored for his contributions to church music at the American Choral Director’s Assocation’s Southern Division Conference.

Hustad’s legacy in the Chicago area is manifold, especially through his work at Hope Publishing Company (located in Carol Stream, Illinois) and through his tenure at Moody Bible Institute, beginning in 1942 at the Institute’s flagship radio station, WMBI, and then as conductor of the Moody Chorale beginning in 1947, and additionally as Director of Moody’s Music Department, 1950–1963. Under Hustad’s leadership, the Moody Chorale was critically acclaimed and the Music Department’s current facilities were built, including the Doane Memorial Music Building and the 4-manual Möller organ (now being rebuilt by R. A. Colby) in Torrey-Gray Auditorium. Hustad’s long relationship with Moody led to the opportunity for the following edited interview which took place on October 11, 2011.

Hustad was born October 2, 1918, in Yellow Medicine County, Minnesota. Following the death of his father in a hunting accident the year after his birth, his mother moved with Donald and his younger brother Wesley to the Boone Biblical College in Boone, Iowa, a home for indigent families. This is where Hustad’s musical life began.

Elizabeth M. Naegele: How did you first become interested in music?

Donald Hustad: At the age of four, I was taken under wing by a little lady at the Boone Biblical College where I grew up and where all of our music was from the “Holiness” tradition. She had me studying all the serious piano works of Beethoven, Liszt, Mendelssohn, etc., and in those days of limited entertainment, I ate it up. From my very first years, I improvised, but I never quit reading music that was serious.

You were doing church music alongside classical music?

Yes, I was in church music. In a very typically fundamentalist culture of church music where I improvised much of the time, I was also studying classical music. I grew up thinking of music schizophrenically because all the things that were ideal in classical music were taboo in the church music that we had, and all the things that we doted on in church music were just out-of-bounds in classical music. I had this love-hate relationship, understanding it, sensing it—from the very beginning—as being in two worlds . . . and I enjoyed them both! 

Curiously, I was also in radio at that age. Little Boone Biblical College had a ten-watt radio station which they bought in 1926, so when I began working at Moody Bible Institute’s radio station later in life, I was simply doing what I had done as an eight-year-old boy. I accompanied my mother who was a singer of sorts, and I played trombone in the orchestra. 

How did you begin your professional career?

Sacred music as a profession was a complete surprise to me. I didn’t realize that anyone could make a living with music, even though I studied it at the John Fletcher College in Oskaloosa, Iowa. The graduates from that school went to theology school and became ministers or they went to a university and became a school teacher. I didn’t want to do either, so I had nothing to do. I came to Chicago looking for any kind of a job. I went to the Christian Businessmen’s Committee downtown Chicago, where they referred me to a Christian businessman, Reamer G. Loomis, who had a real estate office on the south side of Chicago. There I wound up answering the telephone or did surveys in the neighborhood . . . until I got busy doing music. Interestingly enough, my future wife’s family was friendly with the real estate office’s owner.

Where did you meet your wife?

I met Ruth at Lorimer Memorial Baptist Church on the south side of Chicago—and the church had lost their musician, so I was hired to be their choir director and organist.

When had you studied organ?

Prior to this time, I had only one year’s instruction, 1940–1941, during the time I was working at a church in Zion, Illinois. I studied with Francis Moore, who had been a student of Alexandre Guilmant. He taught the organ at Oak Park Methodist Church. I remember him well because he was the first to teach me that I should have fingering written in for Bach. Would you believe I began with Bach’s Prelude and Fugue in E-flat Major? Moore kept active in music and years later, while I was at Moody, I remember that he was doing things for Lyon and Healy in downtown Chicago.

So your professional career began at the church where you met your wife?

Yes, but . . . there was a member of the church named Theresa Worman, who was in charge of children’s programming at Moody Bible Institute’s radio station, WMBI. She came to me one day and said, “Don, why don’t you audition? Down at Moody they hire a lot of musicians.” I asked, “They do? To do what?” She answered, “To play music. To write music. To arrange music. To make music!” So I arrived at WMBI’s Studio D on a Saturday morning in May, 1942, and was met by George Beverley Shea and Cornelius W. Kerr. Corny Kerr was one of the so-called “gospel” organists at Moody—there was a whole bevy of them. And they hired me . . . auditioned me on Saturday, and I showed up for work on Monday.

So you became a professional radio musician?

I played accompaniments for George Shea on Hammond organ, pipe organ, and piano. And I did solo organ programs, I did piano duet programs. I also very soon became an announcer, and then, like everyone else, I became a producer and sometimes an actor in a drama that the station had on for years, “Number Nine Elm Street.”

What music degrees did you earn?

I have a bachelor’s degree in music from John Fletcher College, and completed a master’s degree in piano from Northwestern University (Evanston, Illinois) in 1945, while I was working in radio. Later, I went back to Northwestern to do a Doctor of Music degree in church music, which combined organ, service playing, and conducting [completed in 1963]. I also have an Associate certificate from the American Guild of Organists and a Fellowship certificate from the Royal College of Organists in London. 

Interestingly enough, I never completed a conducting course in my life. The first official conducting I ever did was for a tour of the “Twelve Singing Men” from John Fletcher College. I simply watched people conduct, saw the motions, and practiced them myself as I walked across campus. 

When you were doing doctoral work in Northwestern, did you finally take some conducting courses?

Oddly enough, I didn’t take any conducting classes. I took more classes in literature. I didn’t even take any service playing . . . though I registered for thorough bass [figured bass/continuo playing], I opted out of it because I had played by ear all my life and could “bypass” the class.

In what educational institutions have you taught?

I take great pride in them all. One of the first teaching duties I had was as a substitute for Frank W. Van Dusen at Wheaton College for one full year. I worked at Olivet Nazarene College, now Olivet Nazarene University, 1946–1950, teaching piano and music literature. The lengthier stints: I taught at Moody Bible Institute, 1950–1963, and finally the Southern Baptist Seminary in Louisville, Kentucky, beginning in 1966 and officially retiring in 1986. 

What about your association with Billy Graham?

I joined the Graham team in 1961 and worked for them six years until 1967. At the beginning of my time with them, I was on a leave of absence from Moody but still chairman of the Music Department until 1963, one of those flitting chairmen who bounced off and on campus, helping make important faculty and catalog decisions, teaching assignments, and so forth. 

You started teaching at the Southern Baptist Seminary in 1966 before you were done with Billy Graham?

I kept playing for the Billy Graham team off and on for 20 years and retired from them around the same time that I retired from the seminary. 

What changed during your years of teaching church music?

When I began teaching people how to use music in the church, I knew only one kind of music, and that was what I had learned in the conservatory and colleges. As I understood it, musicians could take the same understanding, the same theory, same techniques, and work in, say, church or even nightclubs, just as well. They were trained for music, and they did music wherever they had to do it. Later, I began to realize the discipline of church music was separate from the ordinary discipline of music, and there were no books written about church music. Church music has different requirements, different objectives—so you should have different training for it. I learned the principal activity of the church was its worship, so I became intensely interested in worship, and I essentially began all over again to study worship and liturgics. My books Jubilate! and Jubilate II became journals on worship and church music and evangelism and Christian education . . . the whole activity of the church. 

Finances have become one of the primary problems with church music in our day. It costs too much to train musicians, so Northwestern University throws out its organ department. Other schools throw out a whole music department because it costs so much more to train a musician than it does to train a philosopher or a theologian. I’ve often wondered if maybe our system should be different. I’ve watched the Europeans teach all beginning applied music in classes. Only artists are taught privately. When I was on sabbatical in France, my daughter took flute classes, not private lessons, at the local conservatory. Everybody heard everybody play. Everybody learned from what everybody else learned, and they spent hours in a studio listening to teaching as well as practicing. I’ve wondered if we shouldn’t do more of that. I think we have the same problem in reverse when teaching conductors. Conductors need more private study than we give them. 

What do you see when you look ahead in church music?

None of us really know! But it’s very interesting for me to look at history, to see movements come and go. As I mentioned, I felt schizophrenic growing up, because I could see that church music and classical music were on two different tracks. For instance, my mother was an amateur singer, but she heard that Amelita Galli-Curci (1882–1963), a famous Italian opera soprano in the 1920s, was giving lessons for $25 to anyone who showed up in Des Moines. And my mother wanted to travel to Des Moines for a lesson because that was a different kind of music than she knew. So she learned Bernard Hamlin’s solo, “Beside Still Waters,” and I accompanied her when she sang it for Galli-Curci. Why did she do this? Well, because there was that other world of art music out there. And it was not a sinful world, it was God’s world. She didn’t know that, but she thought it might be. She had a chance to toy with it, and she did!

On the other hand, George Beverley Shea was a gospel singer from his youth. He grew up in an educated family, all of whom were university people, most of them scholars, preachers, and professors of various sorts in the denomination in which he grew up. But he was a gospel singer, he was different . . . though not completely, because his idol was the concert baritone, John Charles Thomas (1891–1960). Shea worshipped Thomas’s singing, because of his diction, which was the most accurate, most precise, most dramatic diction of any singer in the English language. Shea copied him. He went to Thomas’s coaches, and as a result, Shea had the sharpest diction in English of any singer I know. He’s the oldest singer whose words I can identify when the song is one I’ve never heard before. 

Western music in the year 1000 had no place to operate except in the church. And for hundreds of years, serious composers were trying to imitate the “music of the spheres”—the music that the Book of Job writes about when God says to Job, “Where were you when I laid the earth’s foundation . . . while the morning stars sang together?” (see Job 38:1–7). This was the music of heaven’s angels joined with all of creation, which has together moved to earth only twice in history: once at the creation of the world, once at the birth of Jesus Christ. And did you ever notice this comes full circle in the Book of Revelation, where it says that we will sing in heaven an anthem to God who created, to God who redeemed? That’s all. That’s all there is. That’s all! For eternity!

How does this fit with contemporary music in the church?

Evangelicals have always been plagued with the love of novelty. The gospel is the “good news”—the new good news. Got to have a different music for it. Can’t have ordinary music that God blessed from eternity. Got to have a special music, so we’ll throw out Watts, we’ll throw out Wesley, we’ll throw out Luther, and we’ll have the gospel song. And in the late 19th century, evangelicals did it thoroughly, throwing out the tried and true, God-given music of Watts and Wesley and sang the gospel song. Had a lovely time, and founded Moody Bible Institute to perpetuate it, but knew all the time that they really shouldn’t have let the other go—that they should have hung on to it. The conductors of the auditorium choir at Moody Bible Institute knew this in 1910. The teachers at Moody who played the organ knew this about the organ, and so they had serious organ study back in those days. They never let serious music go because they had a sneaking suspicion that somehow God had blessed it, and they should bless it and protect it and teach it forever. But evangelicals may not do it today. They’ve frittered around to the point now that many have let classical music go. 

Who knows what will happen? The present movement has lasted so long there are few classical musicians left. A cousin in Minneapolis sent me a copy of a program from a Covenant church that had a prelude on the organ by Bach, anthems—true anthems, liturgy, and straightforward hymns, but I don’t know many other evangelical churches that do that. To you that do, I say, “Hang on!”

What activities are you involved in now that you’re really retired?

Years ago I started writing a memoir, and I’ve had so much fun just writing it, I’m on my 15th chapter. 

Are you going to publish it?

No—somebody else can! The title of the 15th chapter is the name of the retirement community where we live now, Plymouth Place. And that’s the end. Plymouth Place has been ideal—it has so many people with all kinds of ideas and interesting backgrounds. There are a lot of Congregationalists, a lot of Catholics, a lot of Lutherans. I wake up remembering that my first memory of Billy Graham was in Western Springs, Illinois, and he was considered too conservative by most of the people in this place.

You know, for me, I’m back where I started. I grew up in a communal living center and now, though we never thought we’d go to a retirement home, it’s a perfect situation. Our needs are cared for and we can use our energy to do what we want to do. 

What do you think music will be like in heaven?

On earth, we’re preparing to worship in eternity—why don’t we do it the biblical way? Thank goodness, the biblical way is happening in some places, and I have faith that God will not let it die.

At this point in the interview, Mrs. Hustad interjected and asked if she and her husband could share the prayer by John Donne which they said every night. Dr. Hustad agreed and—together—they recited:

Since I am coming to that holy room

Where, with Thy choir of saints forevermore,

I shall be made Thy music, as I come

I tune the instrument here at the door,

And what I must do then, think now before.

—from Hymn to God my God, in my Sickness, by John Donne (1572–1631)⁸

On January 14, 2013, Dr. Hustad addressed the music faculty and students at Moody Bible Institute for what turned out to be his final time. He distributed a handout, which included his personal credo (see sidebar) and an outline of his lecture titled “Creation, Culture and Musica Mundana.”⁹ The lecture covered the biblical story of music from creation to the music of heaven, the history of church music from Greek culture through 19th-century Romanticism, and the history of Moody from the music promulgated by Moody’s founder, evangelist Dwight Lyman Moody (1837–1899) through the history of contemporary Christian music. He challenged the students (1) to use the hymnal, even in personal devotions; (2) to use all kinds of music; and (3) to use their education in music. He also reminded them that we are not called to be successful; rather we are called to be faithful. Finally, he left the following exhortations ringing in our ears: 

Worship God!

Teach what God taught!

Live out truth!

Sing to the glory of God!

Ruth Hustad died less than one month after her husband, on July 18, 2013. Their daughter Marcia reported that as her mother was saying goodbye to her father, she said, “Don’t walk too fast, darling…I’ll be right behind you.” The memorial service Mrs. Hustad had planned for Dr. Hustad was revised and became a double ceremony, celebrating both their lives. The service was held July 27, 2013, at Western Springs Baptist Church, the church where Billy Graham was pastor when he first became famous. Current members and alumni of the Moody Chorale sang at the service under the direction of longtime former conductor and faculty member emeritus Gerald H. Edmonds. Their repertoire included an excerpt from Brahms’s Requiem and an original anthem with both words and music by Hustad, “Prayer Before Singing,” which was published in the 1950’s (copyright 1959, Hope Publishing) and recorded by the Chorale. 

Notes

1. Hustad’s life and contributions to church music have been well documented by Rhonda S. (Rogers) Furr, especially (1) in her dissertation, Rhonda S. Rogers, “The Life and Work of Donald Paul Hustad,” DMA dissertation, The Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, 1988; (2) in her article “Jubilate!—‘Shout for Joy!’ 70 Years in Church Music: Donald Hustad,” The Hymn, Vol. 47, No. 2 (April 1996); and (3) in her contributions to Jubilate, Amen!: A Festschrift in Honor of Donald Paul Hustad, Timothy W. Sharp & Paul Richardson, editors, Hillsdale, NY: Pendragon Press, 2010 (see “Biography,” pages 23-55, and “Bibliography,” pages 57–103). 

Another good resource for information about Hustad is the Donald Paul Hustad Collection (SC 5585), Special Collection, Harwell G. Davis Library, Samford University, Birmingham, Alabama.

2. Hustad met Ruth McKeag on February 12, 1942, and they were married on November 28, 1942. They had three daughters and were married for over 70 years. Lorimer Memorial Baptist Church was at 73rd St. and St. Lawrence Avenue on Chicago’s south side. It later moved to Dolton, Illinois, and today is called New Community Church and includes two locations in Chicago’s suburbs, one in Dolton and the other in Park Forest.

3. During his last year at John Fletcher College, Hustad’s keyboard talent earned him his first church job at the First Methodist Church in Oskaloosa, Iowa, where he taught himself basic organ technique. Following graduation in 1940, he continued playing organ for another year when he worked at two churches in the Chicago area, filling in for the organist who was on leave at Ravenswood Methodist Church on Sunday mornings and assisting at the Christian Catholic Church (now Christ Community Church) in Zion, Illinois, on Sunday afternoons.

4. George Beverley Shea (1909–2013) was best known as a soloist who sang with Billy Graham’s Crusades, beginning in 1947. Shea died on April 16, 2013, at the age of 104, only a few months before Hustad died.

5. Hustad was also associated with other radio programs that originated in the Chicago area, most notably the American Broadcasting Radio network’s Club Time, a 15-minute weekly program of hymns, and the longtime popular radio series, Songs in the Night, for which Hustad played organ for two decades beginning in 1947. Songs in the Night began in 1943 and since 1968 has been produced and broadcast by the Moody Church, an organization separate from Moody Bible Institute (though named after the same 19th-century evangelist Dwight Lyman Moody) and also located in downtown Chicago.

6. It may be assumed that Hustad’s conducting of a nationally known choir, the Moody Chorale, and his outstanding improvisation skills made it possible for him to “bypass” course work in conducting and service playing, leaving his remaining studies in various areas of music literature, primarily choral and organ. His two doctoral research projects, both completed in 1963, were “A Study of Sacred Choral Music by Ralph Vaughan Williams” and “The Organ Music of Paul Hindemith.” Hindemith died in 1963, making Hustad’s project the first major document that covered the complete organ works of the composer.

7. Frank W. Van Dusen began teaching at Wheaton College in 1935; he also taught at the American Conservatory in Chicago.

8. This is the first strophe of six in Donne’s Hymn to God my God, in my Sickness. Some scholars suggest Donne wrote it when he was on his deathbed, 1630–1631. Others suggest it was written during a life-threatening illness in 1623.

9. Musica mundana means the “music of the spheres” or universal music, the music that occurred in God’s creation as differentiated from the music of heaven and its angels.

10. E-mail from Marcia Hustad, July 19, 2013.

11. Billy Graham returned to lead Western Springs Baptist Church’s 50th anniversary celebration in 1962. Don Hustad participated in organ dedications at this church in 1962 and again in 1980.

Andrew Scanlon

The following conversation, conducted both in person and by telephone in March 2013, explores the career of one of America’s most eminent musicians and teachers, Ann Labounsky. Dr. Labounsky was my undergraduate organ teacher at Duquesne University, and she is now in her 44th year as professor and chair of sacred music and organ at that same institution. Some years after completing graduate study and working in church music, I had the privilege of returning to Duquesne as a faculty member, teaching alongside Dr. Labounsky for four years. We maintain a close collaboration, and therefore, I have been in the unique situation of knowing Dr. Labounsky on several levels since we first met in New York City at the 1996 American Guild of Organists Centennial Convention. As a teacher, mentor, colleague, and friend, Ann has challenged, encouraged, and supported me in many ways. In this interview, we discuss Ann’s life and career. Several life chapters particularly dominate our discussion: Ann’s student days at Eastman as a pupil of the young David Craighead, and the full circle of Ann and David’s long friendship; Ann’s time as a Fulbright scholar in Paris, studying organ under André Marchal, Jean Langlais, and Marcel Dupré; and finally, Ann’s inimitable teaching career in Pittsburgh. 

 

 

Andrew Scanlon: When people ask me why I decided to learn to play the organ, I most often reply, “Actually, the organ chose me!” Most of your life has been devoted to the organ. What was your first encounter with the organ, and when did the organ first “choose you?”

Ann Labounsky: As a young girl, our family was living in Port Washington, Long Island, and my mother used to take me to a Methodist church across the street from our home. This was before I could read; and I must have heard the pipe organ, but I don’t have much of a memory of it.

Later, we attended Christ Church (Episcopal) in Oyster Bay, where Paul Sifler (also a composer) was the organist-choirmaster. My mother, my brother, and I all sang in the choir, and it was then that I became interested. I was fascinated by the way Paul played. I would come early for choir rehearsals or lessons to watch him practice. I began studying the organ with Sifler at age 15. He was a very good teacher for me, and I loved his compositions. One summer, I went away to a camp, where I couldn’t play the organ for about two weeks, and I missed it so much. I think at that stage, I knew I would be an organist.

 

The conventional wisdom seems to be that before learning the organ, a strong piano background is useful, even essential. Were you already accomplished on the piano? 

My piano teacher in high school was John LaMontaine, Paul Sifler’s partner. He was also a wonderful composer and had a great command of technique. He followed the Tobias Matthay school of relaxation. I would take the train to go to their apartment on 57th Street in New York to take the lessons. It was he who encouraged me to go to Eastman. 

 

Since your piano teacher encouraged you to apply to the Eastman School of Music, did you audition on both piano and organ? What was required for the audition?

Yes, we were required to perform on both instruments. For the organ portion, I remember playing Mendelssohn’s Sonata No. 6, but can’t remember which Bach I played. I do recall that I played a recital my senior year of high school and had played Bach’s Toccata and Fugue in D Minor and Wir glauben all an einen Gott on that recital, so I must have played one of those works. For the piano portion, they required that you know all scales and arpeggios, as well as the performance of a work by Bach and a Beethoven sonata. I was very nervous for the audition.

 

Before you went to Eastman, what, if anything, did you know of David Craighead? Did you want to study with him, or were you taking the advice of your teachers?

Well, no; actually, I didn’t know anything about David Craighead. But John LaMontaine had studied at Eastman, and he thought it was a very good school. He wanted me to study with Eastman’s piano teacher, George MacNabb. (It was from MacNabb that I learned the Brahms Fifty-one Exercises, which I still use.) Paul Sifler thought that Catharine Crozier would have been a good organ teacher for me, and I looked into studying with her. However, by the time I entered Eastman as a freshman, Crozier had already left the Eastman faculty for Rollins College in Florida. 

 

Did you audition anywhere else besides Eastman?

No. It always makes me laugh now, because these days, students audition at several schools. But for some reason, I didn’t.

 

Had you given any thought to what might happen if you didn’t get in?

No, that didn’t occur to me! 

 

In 1957, you moved upstate from Long Island and began your new life in Rochester. What are your memories of those undergraduate years? 

Eastman was a wonderful school. For many years, I stayed in close touch with the friends that I made there because we all struggled together. It was very demanding; in fact, I had nightmares. I was so afraid that I wouldn’t do well enough and that David Craighead would make me study with Norman Peterson, the secondary teacher! 

 

Can you recall your close friends and colleagues from that time?

Some dear colleagues included Bill Stokes, Joanna Tousey, Bill Haller, Maggie Brooks, Bruce Lederhouse, Jim Johnson, Gretchen Frauenberger, and Robert Town. Roberta Gary was working on her doctorate and David Mulberry was a senior, but they were beyond me. They were the great legends at the time!

 

How many students were studying organ then?

I think there may have been about ten—smaller compared to what it is now. 

 

Can you recall periods of particular growth in your playing during the Eastman days, or conversely, any precise struggles?

I don’t recall any struggles specifically; everything was difficult. We had to have all our repertoire memorized. I would get very nervous before performances. I wish that I would have found a way to get over that more easily, as I look back now. But all of this contributed to my growth as a musician. 

 

When you arrived at Eastman, in the studio of David Craighead, he was still fairly new to Eastman’s faculty, correct?

Yes, he had arrived in 1955, and I entered in 1957. He always told me this funny story about when I first arrived. Evidently I went up to his office and knocked on his door and introduced myself. I said, “I’m Ann Labounsky: Ann without the ‘E’!” David said he always remembered that.

 

What was Craighead like as a teacher in 1957? What aspects of learning did he emphasize as a young teacher?

He was always very precise. At that time in his life, he was rather nervous, quite inhibited. He would tell you all the things that were not right, but you always wanted to strive to do better in the next lesson. We spent a lot of time on the registration. He used the Bonnet Historical Anthology of Music, which was highly edited, and not a good edition. He used the Seth Bingham edition of Couperin’s music and I hated that music back then; it wasn’t until I went to Paris to study with [André] Marchal that I knew what it all meant!

 

That anecdote reminds us of how David Craighead evolved tremendously, over the years, both as teacher and a performer.

He did. I remember seeing him some years later, perhaps in the early 1970s. He had come to perform in Pittsburgh, and we attended the Pittsburgh Symphony together. He spoke of the Offertoire from Couperin’s Mass for the Parishes, and how he had learned about the notes inégales. For Bach, we changed registration frequently and each change was well marked in the score. Also, phrasing was carefully marked. Craighead was meticulous about every detail, but was patient in working with us until we got it right. He was most effective when he would quickly slide onto the bench to demonstrate a passage.

 

Can you remember your degree recitals?

They were all in Kilbourne Hall on the Skinner organ. For my senior recital, I played the Bach Prelude and Fugue in A Minor, BWV 543, and of course, a lot of American music. David Craighead loved the music of Sowerby. I played Sowerby’s famous Arioso, which was gorgeous on that organ. At Eastman, there was a kind of “shopping list” of music that we all had to work on. Ironically, when we got to Langlais’ music, I hated it! I had performed some of the Hommage à Frescobaldi, and I didn’t like it at all! I also remember playing in the weekly performance class in preparation for my senior recital. At one such class, having completed a play-through of the Bach “A Minor,” I remember David Craighead saying, “That was bloody but unbowed!” 

 

When you were wrapping up your days at Eastman, did David Craighead advise you about what you should do in terms of furthering your education?

David Craighead was very different from Russell Saunders, who told the students exactly what they should do. David took a far more hands-off approach. He gave his students the confidence to make their own decisions. I thought about staying at Eastman for my master’s degree, but decided to go to the University of Michigan. It turned out to be a very good thing to do that, as I would meet my future husband, Lewis Steele, at Michigan.

 

After four years at the Eastman School, I imagine that you had a much broader sense of the organ world, and you knew what you wanted?

I certainly knew that I wanted to go on to earn a master’s degree, but at that time, I didn’t know much about church music or improvisation. I didn’t know exactly what I wanted, except that I wanted to learn music.

 

In few words, can you summarize the church music curriculum at Eastman in those days?

It didn’t exist! 

 

Your next move was from Rochester to Ann Arbor. Tell us about what life was like at the University of Michigan in 1961.

In those days, the president of the AGO was Roberta Bitgood. She did a wonderful thing for the new students at U. of M. When we got off the train in Detroit, she met all the students. She had gathered members of the clergy from churches in the area that were looking for organists. She introduced all of us, and as a result, I began a church job right away in Dearborn, Michigan, about an hour from Ann Arbor. 

U. of M. was a very different school than ESM. My teacher there was Marilyn Mason. Mason was less of a teacher for me, but more of a coach. David Craighead had really formed my technique—so she didn’t have to work on that. We worked on musical details and interpretation. We always had our lessons on the organ in Hill Auditorium.

 

Were there other organ teachers?

Yes. Ray Ferguson and Robert Noehren were on the faculty at that time. 

 

Besides organ playing, were there any other memorable aspects of the Michigan graduate degree program that helped you grow?

The courses at Michigan were wonderful! I especially recall Hans David the musicologist, and Louise Cuyler, and I learned a great deal from both of them.

 

You mentioned that you also met your husband while at Michigan?

Yes, I earned the degree in one year and two summers, and I was getting ready to play my recital. I met Lewis Steele on the steps of Marilyn Mason’s studio. I needed soloists to sing in my church every Sunday since we didn’t have a summer choir. I heard his resonant voice, and asked him to sing a solo. That’s how our romance started! 

 

Would you care to elaborate?

Well, three children and four grandchildren later, we are very happy together. 

I could never have done the things I have done without Lewis’s support. He always said that in a marriage, it’s not a 50/50 partnership, rather it’s 100/100. You have to give all of yourself, all the time. He did so much in raising the children. I had no idea even how to change diapers. He taught me. So many of the things I didn’t have (for example, expertise in theology, scripture, choral directing), Lewis did have. It has been a wonderful partnership over the years. I always remember what Marilyn Mason said: “I’d marry him for his laugh!”

 

Can you sum up the church music curriculum at U. of M. in those days?

They had two tracks. You could earn the MM in organ, which I did, or the MM in church music. However, it seemed to me that the only difference was you didn’t have to memorize the recital if you were in the church music track. All students took Robert Noehren’s course in organ building, which I almost failed! You had to know the composition of mixtures, which was too much for me! He was a very good teacher, though. He had a significant influence in the organ department there at that time. 

 

As your time wound up in Michigan, the next big step would be the Fulbright process. What were you doing in Michigan to prepare for the program in France?

By the time I got to Michigan, I knew I wanted to go to France for additional study. In fact, I had applied for a Fulbright while still an Eastman student, but I didn’t get it. I applied a second time while at U. of M. I had been passionate about the French language and was determined that I would go to France one way or another. Every week, I would get together with Deedee Wotring, one of André Marchal’s former students. We would meet for coffee, and she would force me to speak French! 

 

But your love of France and the French language had begun long before Michigan, through your beloved Aunt Julia, correct?

I’m glad you mentioned Julia. You knew her and played at her funeral. She had studied art in Paris after the war, and following her arrival back home in New York, she spent every weekend with us in Long Island. Julia was determined to teach me how to speak French! My father (a geologist and engineer who worked on the Manhattan Project) was Russian, his second language being English. I was determined I was going to Paris to study, even if I had to be an au pair. 

In April, having applied for a Fulbright, saying I wanted to study with Marchal, but not yet knowing my fate, I went to a recital at St. Thomas Church Fifth Avenue, performed by Jean Langlais, whom I met for the first time. I told him I had played his Miniature on my graduate recital at the University of Michigan, and that I hoped to soon be in Paris studying. He replied that he hoped he would see me! When I returned home to Long Island from that recital, I found out I had gotten the Fulbright grant! That was such a great blessing to be able to go, with everything paid for; it was just a marvelous thing. 

I should speak a little bit about how we got to France. The first time we went over was on the “Queen Mary,” and on the “France” a number of times. It took five days, and there was no jet lag, because each day you changed the clocks only one hour. It was a wonderful way to travel. Ruth Woods (Harris) and I went together, both studying with Marchal on a Fulbright grant. We remain close friends.

 

Though you are perhaps best known as the leading American disciple of Jean Langlais, when you set off for France, your initial intent was to study with André Marchal, and you did. Tell us about studying with Marchal.

When I heard Marchal play for the first time, it was at Oberlin. He played in a way I had never heard anyone else play. Each line breathed. I heard music differently when he played, and I wanted to learn what he knew. Fortunately, my French was good enough that I didn’t need a translator, but his daughter Jacqueline often translated for the other students. Lessons were in his home at 22 Rue Duroc. I also wanted to study improvisation. Even though Marchal improvised very well, at that time he no longer taught improvisation. He said: “Well, you may study improvisation with Langlais.”

You must understand about the teachers all over Europe at that time: they were very possessive of their students. You were not able to simply study with anyone you wanted; definitely not several teachers! You went abroad to study with ONE teacher. I studied organ repertoire with Marchal, but Marchal gave me his permission to study with Langlais. After that time, while continuing to study with Marchal, I would then go to Ste. Clotilde in the evenings for my lessons with Langlais, which was wonderful. Playing on the organ that Franck, Tournemire, and Langlais knew so well, and hearing their music on that instrument, made all the difference in learning that music.

 

What musical facet did Marchal underscore the most in how to play the organ?

The touch. He had a way of phrasing each line independently. And he had such a concept of the whole piece. I remember working on Bach’s great Fantasy and Fugue in G Minor (BWV 542) with him. He had the whole piece completely engraved in his mind—every voice. It was amazing to me that this blind man knew music so well. For example, if you used a fingering that was not effective, he could tell!

 

You mentioned having studied Couperin as an undergraduate at Eastman. I know that with his interest in early music, Marchal would make the classical French school an essential part of what you studied. How did your point of view evolve with respect to this music?

Marchal just knew that music. I don’t know how—because he had studied with Gigout, and of course, everyone was playing completely legato then. Marchal attributed his style of playing to studying the harpsichord, saying that as a result, he had learned a different way of playing. And in the 1960s, no one else was playing like that. We usually associate Marie-Claire Alain as a leader in the early music revival for the organ—but even in the 1940s when Marie Claire Alain was very young, it was Marchal who was the first great leader in this movement. There was something about the way he played that helped me understand that “this is how you play!” With Marchal, I studied all Couperin, as well as all the music of de Grigny, Clérambault, Daquin, etc.

 

I recall from other conversations over the years that you recall practicing constantly during the time you were in France. You learned a great deal of music—how much repertoire did you absorb in two years?

In addition to all I mentioned just above, with Marchal, I studied all the Bach trio sonatas, all the big preludes and fugues—tons of repertoire! With Langlais I studied all of Franck’s music, much of Tournemire, and other pieces, too. In terms of how lessons worked, with Marchal (and Donald Wilkins said it was the same with Duruflé), you brought in a piece to a lesson, one of these big pieces, and they told you everything you needed to know. If you brought in the same piece again to another lesson, they said, “Well, I already told you everything I know about it last week!” We knew that we wouldn’t be there forever with those brilliant musicians. Our goal was to cover as much repertoire as possible in the shortest amount of time.

 

Do you still play the pieces you studied with Marchal or Langlais the same way as when you learned them? Or do you perform them differently now?

Wonderful question. I think that the spirit is the same; some things changed a little. I’m constantly trying to think in a fresh way, but the spirit of what I learned from Langlais and Marchal has stayed with me.

 

Concerning Marchal’s teaching, did he have any idiosyncrasies?

Many have said of Marchal that if a student was not gifted, he would be very lenient with that student; but the more diligent a student was, he would be much more strict. And that certainly was true. One funny story was about phrasing in one of the trio sonatas. I had asked why he played it that particular way, and he thought for a long time. After quite a long period of silence, finally he answered: “Because it pleases me!”

 

Many people are very well acquainted with your work and expertise on the music and the life of Jean Langlais. Much of this information can be learned from your book, Jean Langlais: The Man and His Music (Amadeus Press, 2000), as well as from the liner notes on your CD recordings. Would you share with us, in a broad sense, what it was like to be Langlais’ pupil, and how that relationship developed over many years?

Langlais was extremely supportive. He always made you feel that you could do anything! If you made a mistake, he knew, but he was just thinking about the music. Always so encouraging and supportive, he was continually trying to find places for his students to play, and to help them in whatever way he could. As I learned his music, I became more and more interested, and I wanted to learn as much as I could. 

 

Over the years, how much cumulative time did you study with Langlais?

I have no idea. I usually had a weekly lesson on Wednesday evenings, when the church was closed. In addition to that, on Saturday afternoons, we were at the Schola Cantorum, and that’s where we worked on improvisation. Over the years, I returned many more times to study.

 

After remaining in France for an extra year, what path did your career take upon returning to the States?

Langlais asked me to be his guide for his fall 1964 American tour, and I did that. Shortly thereafter, I took a job in a very large Roman Catholic church in New Hyde Park, Long Island. I had a choir of men and boys that I had to develop and direct. That was hard work. 

 

How did you end up in Pittsburgh? Did you move there to take up your position as organ teacher at Duquesne University?

In 1967, Lewis and I moved to Pittsburgh to take up a joint church position at Brentwood Presbyterian Church. Lewis was the choir director, and I was the organist. We had only one child, six months old. Two years later, in 1969, the head of graduate studies at Duquesne University called and asked if I would like to teach organ at Duquesne—but I had never heard of Duquesne! Honestly, I was not thinking about teaching in a college and university. I had done some private teaching, but had not thought beyond that. I wanted to be a church musician and recitalist. Looking back on it, I don’t know why I hadn’t considered university teaching. I was busy at the church and raising our kids. So, in 1969, I began teaching part-time, and it initially cost our family money for me to teach at Duquesne, because I had to pay for child care! At that time, there was a degree program in organ, but no sacred music program or sacred music courses. 

In 1972, around the time of the birth of our third child, the dean of Duquesne’s school of music at the time, Gerald Keenan, called me into his office and said they wanted to hire me full-time. After that time, I was the only organ teacher.

 

What was your strategy for building up the sacred music degree programs at Duquesne? 

I didn’t really have a strategy. I worked slowly, adding courses as it made sense. Even before I was full-time, I had brought Jeanne Joulain to Pittsburgh for a recital and workshop—in that way, I was already developing a tradition of guest artists. The first class that I started was the “Service Playing” course. I was always interested in improvisation, having studied it with Langlais, and I had won the very first AGO improvisation competition in 1966 in Atlanta. I began an improvisation course, focusing on rather simple aspects of improvisation. 

For a few years, we moved along slowly, trying to figure out the curriculum and course requirements. In 1976, the 25th year of the Duquesne School of Music, I decided that Langlais should come to Duquesne. This coincided with the official establishment of the sacred music degree programs. While Langlais was in residence, we awarded him an honorary doctorate, and we had a whole week of concerts featuring premieres of his music. This started things off in a huge way, attracting a lot of national attention. Gradually, more and more students wanted to come to Duquesne, continuing over the years. I couldn’t say in what specific year things really blossomed. Another aspect of our program’s emphasis in church music came after I realized there had been a huge void in the Catholic Church after the Second Vatican Council—no choirs, no hymnals, a very low level of music. I saw that Duquesne had a responsibility and an opportunity to take a lead in this area. The dean, Robert Egan, agreed with me, and we worked for several years on strengthening the program. I called many people at different universities to see what other programs were offering. In those early days, I taught all the courses myself, as we didn’t have that many students. 

 

For many years, you have been a serious campaigner for the cause of the AGO certification program. From where did your advocacy of this program emerge?

Initially from Walter Hilse. I met Walter while we were both students in Paris. Walter, also from New York, was studying composition with Nadia Boulanger and organ with Maurice Duruflé. On Wednesday afternoons, Boulanger taught an analysis class for foreigners at her apartment, for which she had a huge following. She had a small house organ, having been a student of Vierne. Students would play pieces (Fauré, for example), and then she would pull the pieces apart and ask questions. She was a huge personality. I still have the scores. (We had to buy the ones she was going to discuss.) At these classes, Walter Hilse encouraged me to become certified. I distinctly remember him saying “You really should take the AAGO [Associate of the AGO] exam.” He has always been a huge promoter of the exams and has had many private students. Anne Wilson and Todd Wilson, for example, prepared for the exams with Walter. While my husband and I were still living on Long Island, I decided to do this. Once I began teaching at Duquesne University, it occurred to me that those skills were so vital to all students, that they should be learning these skills while studying for university degrees. 

 

Did the desire to help students become fluent with keyboard skills such as those tested on the AGO exams prompt you to require the AGO exams as part of the sacred music degrees at Duquesne?

In the early 1980s, I was on the National Committee on Professional Certification. Only one other school in the country was making it a requirement to take the exams. So, I decided to initiate the exams at Duquesne. When you tell people they have to do it, then they just do! Not everyone passed, and people took different exams, depending on their level of expertise. I met many wonderful people on that committee, including Max Miller, Sister Theophane Hytrek, John Walker, and David Schuler, for example. Different years, various others rotated on and off that committee, such as Todd Wilson. 

 

When did you ultimately attempt the Fellowship exam? 

Since I had already made the exams a degree requirement at DU, and I was the National Councillor for Education, I decided that it was time. You can’t just say to someone, “you should do this!”—you need to set an example. During a very busy time, when I had three children, was teaching full time, playing recitals, and was on the national board, I worked with two former students in Pittsburgh, John Miller and Robert Kardasz, to prepare together for the FAGO. Eventually, we all passed! It gave Pittsburgh more people with the FAGO diploma, where previously only Charles Heaton and Don Wilkins had earned it. We needed more highly certified people for a city our size.

 

Why do you consider it so important to take the certification exams?

There are a number of reasons:

1) In order to keep growing you need both long-term and short-term goals. As a student, it’s a short-term goal. Before earning a degree, it helps you have a point of arrival.

2) After my student, John Henninger, graduated from Duquesne, he went on to Westminster Choir College for graduate school and had applied for a church job in Princeton. He had passed the CAGO while at Duquesne, and he was appointed to the job because of having the Colleague Certificate. 

3) The exams represent a very structured way of testing both theoretical and practical skill. You can work at your own pace, and everybody I know who has done this, whether or not they have passed, has profited by it. It seems like a natural thing to do this, when you consider that so many other professions offer certification.

4) Earning an AGO certificate is a way that we show we’re at a certain level in our profession.

5) Earning certification does level the playing field and sets a high standard.

Our professional organization is extremely important. I get upset with people who complain about aspects of degree programs, churches, even the AGO—when the only thing you can do is to get right in the trenches to make things better!

 

Several graduates of Duquesne have gone on to earn the highest AGO certification. How has that made
you feel?

Very proud. You [Andrew Scanlon] being one of them, and now even serving on the national exam committee—that has made me especially proud. My current colleague, Ben Cornelius-Bates, has recently earned the FAGO also. 

 

Reflecting on your almost 45 years of teaching at Duquesne, how would you say your teaching and playing has evolved?

On teaching, David Craighead always said that you learn so much from your students, and I really have. In the beginning, I felt I didn’t know much, but I learned along the way. I found some things that worked well, and I fought the scars of things that didn’t work well. I have found it important to document what each student does. Recently, I got a computer in my studio, and using the “Blackboard” tool has been transformative. I have begun taking notes for each lesson and posting them for each student to view.

In the early days of my teaching, I was still very much in the mode of the teachers I learned from in Paris—Langlais, Marchal, and Dupré. They were very directive. They told you exactly what they wanted you to do. Initially, I taught the way they taught, because it was so fresh in my mind. As things have evolved, I have wanted to help each student find his own voice. I might not always agree with the student, but feel strongly that it’s in the best interest of each student to let them develop their own musical instincts. 

Ironically, when I performed all the recitals that Langlais had organized for me, I still felt I was his student. Langlais said, “You have to do this the way you want to do it.” But he had not taught that way. For example, he was known for saying so emphatically in his teaching that “Franck is tremendously free—just like this!” In improvisation, he taught the Thème libre, which, of course, is not free at all!

As you grow older, you grow in wisdom. You learn a lot from your children, also. They keep you humble, and they really tell you when you mess up! 

When I look at David Craighead, I keep thinking of how he was when I first studied with him at Eastman. Then, he was a new teacher. I had the joy of knowing him so well for the last 14 years of his life, and he had changed so much. He started by telling the students when they had made mistakes, but ended up changing lives. I try to do that too. I try to be a mentor, to do everything I possibly can to encourage my pupils, and help them get along well together. Music school can be almost like a monastery, when you’re all working together, and it’s so important to have a good rapport with your colleagues, to show great compassion for one another. 

Secondly, in answer to your question about my own playing, several things have contributed to the way I have played over the years. One of these was earning my Ph.D. in musicology, and beginning my biography of Langlais as the dissertation. All my years of teaching, the wisdom I gained from colleagues such as Robert Sutherland Lord and Don Franklin, making all the Langlais recordings—all of that contributed to the evolution of my playing. Other factors include the 1985 Bach Year, when I was asked to play an all-Bach recital on the Beckerath organ at St. Paul’s Cathedral in Pittsburgh. I changed my approach to Bach playing, using all toes, and different fingering. Change was in the air at that time. 

 

Have there been still more recent developments?

Yes. I have been working with Don Franklin on the tempo relationships in Bach preludes and fugues. We have been looking back to Kirnberger’s tempo relationships. I am constantly trying to learn more. If you have everything figured out, you may as well just retire, and I’m certainly not ready to retire!

In addition, after being asked a few years ago to do a peer review of a string methods class, I became fascinated with the violin. I realized that I had always wanted to play the violin, but I was afraid to try! I started taking violin lessons with David Gillis, a member of the Pittsburgh Symphony, and I’m still studying! I’m working on the Vivaldi sonatas, Opus 2, which I love! It’s a whole other world. 

The most recent development is the establishment of Duquesne’s chant schola under the direction of faculty member Sister Marie Agatha Ozah, HHCJ. We study the St. Gall notation to incorporate those interpretive elements into our singing. In May 2013, I led a study trip to Paris to play the important organs there and gave a short concert at the Benedictine Abbey in Solesmes. 

 

How do you know what to say when a student plays? What not to say? 

Always, I do it by intuition, and I think David Craighead did too. I’m careful not to say too much, and not say too little. 

 

How do you decide not only what to say, but how to say it? How do you break through?

Teaching is so dynamic, because you have to figure out where the student is and how the student will perceive what you say. You always have to be honest, but you need to be helpful—not damaging. You can’t say something is good when it’s not. Some teachers are more didactic, but I find that I do almost everything by intuition.

 

Realizing that you could retire, what keeps you going?

I love what I’m doing. I’m finally at a point when I can do it more easily.

I still have a lot to give to the students. I can still make a difference in their lives, and I still enjoy it. When we look around the country, and see the teachers who have retired, only to see their programs eliminated, that is always a danger. 

 

What are your hopes for the future of Duquesne’s sacred music and organ programs?

We are working very hard to get a world-class organ on campus! We have plans, and hope to be able to do this in the near future. The last piece of the puzzle is to put a doctoral program in place. That has been in discussion for many years, and it has been very challenging because there are many hoops to jump through. Our library holdings have been critical, but we now have many sacred music collections (the Langlais Collection, the Craighead Collection, the Boys Town Collection, the Richard Proulx Collection, to name a few). We have the faculty, and the quality of teaching, but we need more financial support. 

 

What else would you like to say?

Duquesne University has always been a religious institution. Our mission is to train church musicians. There are other schools whose main issue is getting students ready for competitions, which is wonderful, and I admire them very much. But even David Craighead agreed that he wished the Eastman School had done more with church music and preparation for the AGO exams. I want to prepare students to be musicians in churches of all denominations. We are trying to evolve, as the church continues to evolve. Students have to learn both pastoral skills and musical skills. These are difficult to teach. Our internship, for example, is a requirement partially because of NASM accreditation, but it’s also a critical area that we use to help each student in that very way. 

 

Ann, thank you for sharing these details of your life in teaching and performing. Albert Einstein said, “I never teach my pupils. I only attempt to provide the conditions in which they can learn.” My experience of you as a teacher and mentor has been just so. You always gave the students exactly the right amount of guidance, and offered the right words precisely when they were needed; and yet you always allowed each student to discover his own path. You have led the way gracefully, setting a high bar and leading by example. Most importantly you have shown me the importance of constant, ongoing learning. I look forward to many more years of collaboration and friendship and wish you many blessings for continued joy in your work. 

John C. Campbell died March 4 in Abilene, Texas. He was 73. A long-time teacher and organist, he began piano study with his mother at age eight; his father acquired a two-manual and pedal Estey reed organ for their church, and Campbell began playing the organ in church at age 13. At Hardin-Simmons University, he studied piano with Thurman Morrison and organ with T. W. (Jack) Dean and Edward Wetherill; after graduation, he entered the U.S. Navy and for five years served as a pilot on an aircraft carrier. He later earned a master of music degree at the University of Oklahoma, studying organ with Mildred Andrews, and a doctorate at the Eastman School of Music, where he studied with Russell Saunders. He also studied organ with Michael Schneider and harpsichord with Hugo Ruf at the Staatliche Hochschule für Musik in Cologne.
Campbell taught for three years at Berea College in Kentucky, and was professor of organ and church music and university organist at Hardin-Simmons University from 1971–2000. He had also served as organist of the First Baptist Church in Oklahoma City (where he met Lillie Spurgin, whom he married in 1966), and First Baptist Church of Abilene, Texas. He was a member of the Big Country AGO chapter. John C. Campbell is survived by his wife, Lillie, sons Russell and Matthew, a sister, two brothers, and uncles, nieces, nephews, and cousins.

Lawrence G. “Larry” Kelliher died on June 2 in Madison, Wisconsin. He was a lifelong resident of Madison. For the greater part of his career, he was director of music/organist at Bethel Lutheran Church in Madison, where he led a 70-voice choir and coordinated a regional church music workshop in cooperation with the University of Wisconsin. Kelliher received his bachelor of arts degree from the University of Wisconsin-Madison, and his master’s degree in organ performance there in 1954. While attending UW-Madison, he was a teaching assistant for organ majors and an accompanist for choral groups and voice studios.
He was organist and director of music at Trinity Lutheran Church 1957–60 and at Bethel Lutheran Church 1960–92. From 1994–96, he was the organist and choir/handbell director at St. Luke’s Church in Middleton. He served as the organist for the First Unitarian Society, Luther Memorial, Holy Cross, Grace Episcopal, First Congregational, St. John’s, and Central Lutheran churches in Madison. Before retiring, he was the choir director/organist at Monona Lutheran Church. He also served as an organist for the Madison Symphony. He was dean of the Madison AGO chapter 1959–60. A memorial service was held on June 9 at Bethel Lutheran Church in Madison, with music led by current director of music/organist, Gary Lewis.

Hazel-Thomas Baker King died at age 71 on April 8, in Charlottesville, Virginia. An alumna of Agnes Scott College, she received a fellowship to study in Belgium with Flor Peeters. For 31 years she was organist-choirmaster at St. John’s Lutheran Church in Charleston, South Carolina, and a member of the AGO; the Charleston chapter produced a recording of her performance on the restored 1845 Erben organ at the French (Huguenot) Church. Mrs. King was also featured in recitals at Piccolo Spoleto. A talented choral director, she had studied at the Royal School of Church Music in England, and served as director of choral activities at Ashley Hall School, was accompanist for the Charleston Symphony Singers’ Guild, and was a member of the Charleston Baroque Singers. Hazel-Thomas King is survived by her husband, two children, one sister, and three grandchildren.

Paul E. Koch died on May 12 at age 79 in Springfield, Illinois. Born May 24, 1929 in Vanlue, Ohio, he was a graduate of Ohio Wesleyan University (BMus), the Naval School of Music, and Union Theological Seminary (MSM). He served in the Army 1951–54 as a bandsman and chaplain’s assistant. He held church music positions as organist and choir director in churches in Oak Park, Springfield, and Decatur, Illinois. He was active in the American Guild of English Handbell Ringers, the American Guild of Organists, the Fellowship of United Methodists in Music and Worship Arts, and the Presbyterian Association of Musicians.
Koch played recitals and was a published composer; among his works are a volume of handbell music, a work for flute and organ, five anthems, two organ works, and two hymns. He taught numerous piano and organ students, and he was also a communications consultant with Illinois Bell Telephone 1970–1982. Paul E. Koch is survived by his wife Susan, three sons, a daughter, two stepdaughters, a sister, two grandchildren, and five stepgrandchildren.

George M. Williams, director of music and organist at the Northfield Community Church (UCC) of Northfield, Illinois since 1967, died June 11, after a nine-month battle with recurrent lymphoma. Williams was a member of the American Guild of Organists, past dean of the North Shore chapter, and a trustee at the Music Institute of Chicago. In 2007, on the occasion of his fortieth anniversary at Northfield Community Church, the church established an endowed organ scholarship in perpetuity in his name at the Music Institute of Chicago.
Born December 3, 1935, Williams was a graduate of Chicago Musical College (now the Chicago College of Performing Arts of Roosevelt University), where he received bachelor’s and master’s degrees and won the Oliver Ditson Award in organ. He later became an instructor of organ at his alma mater, and he taught music and conducted the chorus for ten years at Englewood High School in the Chicago Public School System. In 1968, he joined the faculty of Loop Junior College (now Harold Washington College), one of the City Colleges of Chicago, where he taught music theory, piano, and vocal music for thirty-four years.
Williams retired from the college in 2002 as an associate professor. In addition to being an organ recitalist, church musician and conductor, Williams was classical music critic for The Chicago Crusader, the oldest African-American-owned Chicago area weekly newspaper. George M. Williams is survived by his wife, the former Barbara Wright-Pryor, two children and two grandchildren.