Peragallo Cover Feature: Consoles and keydesks

Fratelli Ruffatti, Padova, Italy; Notre Dame Seminary, New Orleans, Louisiana

Flexibility is the key

The new instrument for Notre Dame Seminary of New Orleans is a two-manual organ. In spite of its relatively moderate size, however, it is designed to be more flexible in its use than many of its three-manual counterparts. This is made possible primarily by the careful choice of stops and console controls by sacred music director Max Tenney in collaboration with the builder.

A notable and not-so-common feature is the division of the Grand-Orgue into two sections, unenclosed and enclosed. The first contains the principal chorus, based on a 16′ Principal, while the latter includes flutes, a Gemshorn with its Celeste, and a rather powerful reed. Versatility not only comes from graduating the volume of the enclosed stops, but goes well beyond. Let’s look at how this is accomplished.

Each section of the Grand-Orgue is equipped with its own set of sub and super couplers and a Unison Off. The unusual possibility of applying interdivisional couplers and Unison Off only to a few stops and of using them in conjunction with other non-coupled stops within the same manual offers new and exciting possibilities. As an example, the Great Trompette, which is only controlled by one stop knob at 8′ pitch, can be used at 16′, 8′, and 4′ (and under expression) with a non-coupled principal chorus.

The console controls include a Grand-Orgue Enclosed to Expressif Transfer, which can separate the two Grand-Orgue sections in a single motion, canceling the stops drawn on the first manual and transferring them to the second. The two Grand-Orgue sections, now located on separate keyboards, can be used in dialogue, one against the other. In addition, the transfer makes it possible to use the enclosed Grand-Orgue stops with the stops of the second manual, which are also under expression. Imagine the possibilities!

A further step toward the separation of the two Grand-Orgue sections is their separate set of couplers (at 8′ and 4′) to the Pedal. There are more controls to stimulate creativity, such as the Manual Melody coupler, the Grand-Orgue Trompette coupler, and the Pedal Divide.

The most important contribution to tonal flexibility, however, is the result of very careful choices of dimensions and manufacturing parameters of the pipes, which comes from decades of experience. Together with refined voicing techniques, a good blending of each stop in all traditional stop combinations is guaranteed. In addition, the performer can create registrations that are often considered unconventional but provide valid musical solutions to whatever challenges arise. With proper voicing and pipe dimensioning, a smaller instrument can display a tonal flexibility comparable to that of a much larger pipe organ.

Technically, the console has much to offer. In addition to quality tracker-touch keyboards (61 keys), a 32-note standard AGO pedalboard, and an ergonomic design, it is equipped with a very reliable and well-tested control panel, which is remarkable in many ways. It displays a user-friendly touchscreen—by a simple touch the organist can jump from one icon to the next to access different functions. The icons are many, but all are intuitive to put any organist at ease from the first experience.

The combination action, which includes both generals and divisionals, offers great flexibility. As is often the case with modern systems, organists can have their own dedicated “folders.” Password input is not needed to open them; a personalized magnetic “key” placed next to a sensor will allow access. The storing of combinations is made simple by giving them the name of the piece for which they were set (i.e., Widor Toccata). Further, a number of such pieces can be selected and grouped into concert folders, which can be given a name as well (i.e., Christmas Concert 2021).

—Francesco Ruffatti

Partner & Tonal Director

The organ case

Designing a new pipe organ is always an exciting process. Many things must be taken into account, both from the technical and the visual standpoints. Technically, it is always a challenge to make sure that every part is easily accessible, that every pipe is reachable for tuning, that the various divisions speak freely into the building, and that all technical elements fall into place properly. Visually, the design is the result of a combination of several aspects: the environment in which the organ is located, the client’s wishes, and the designer’s creativity.

The chapel at Notre Dame Seminary is not a large building, yet it is a place with high, vaulted ceilings and classical architectural design. The organ and the console find their place in the loft above the main door, where the choir will sing under the direction of music director and organist Max Tenney.

The casework was stipulated to be of classical design, with the largest pipes in the façade. Our approach to the design follows this criteria, but with a contemporary touch to it, in an effort to blend the classical style with features that belong to the 21st century. The case is divided into five bays, with the central bay capped by an arch, thus recalling the big central arch dividing the loft from the chapel. The side bays closest to the center have counter arches, which bring more emphasis to the central bay, while the bays to their sides are a natural conclusion to the organ case containing the smaller façade pipes.

The organ façade features a decorative element in front of the pipes, which enriches the design as a whole. This element develops from the top of the arched roofs next to the central bay and follows its curve, spanning through the three central bays. The decoration crosses in front of the central pipe and changes its curvature until it reaches the vertical columns, where it is replaced by gilded shadow gaps, and then continues on the low part of the side bays, matching the curvature of the pipe mouths of the outermost bays.

The case is finished with a white lacquer and is enriched by 24-carat gold leaf accents, to complement the interior scheme of the planned redecoration of the chapel, soon to be implemented.

—Michela Ruffatti

Architect & Design Director

The organ in liturgy

Rooted in the Documents of the Universal Church, the Teaching of the Supreme Pontiffs, the Directives of the Dicastery for Divine Worship and the Discipline of the Sacraments in the Vatican, as well as the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops’ Secretariat on Divine Worship, together with the Norms for Spiritual Formation provided in the most recent edition (2022) of the Program for Priestly Formation, the Office of Sacred Music at Notre Dame Seminary seeks to provide the men in priestly formation with both a solid and comprehensive analysis, as well as a practical and methodological understanding of Liturgical Music, its role in service to the Sacred Liturgy, and the means by which the clear and consistent teaching of the Church on the subject might best be implemented throughout the dioceses and parishes in which these future priests will find themselves in the service of God’s Holy People.

These words have guided the Sacred Music Program at Notre Dame Seminary in the New Orleans Archdiocese since my arrival nearly a decade ago. Almost immediately the then-rector, the Very Reverend James A. Wehner, S.T.D., had begun a conversation with me about the organ in the seminary’s Chapel of the Immaculate Conception of the Blessed Virgin Mary. The Möller organ had served admirably for nearly a century. It had even survived several attempts to alter its original tonal design, including the expansion of the instrument through the means of extensive unification, in addition to a revoicing. Also, during the decades following the Second Vatican Council, the instrument had been severely neglected, receiving almost no service in those years.

It was decided early on in those conversations that the organ needed to be replaced. The mandate was clear: to design an instrument worthy of Our Lady’s seminary, the largest theologiate in the American Church, that would competently and beautifully accompany the Church’s liturgies, including both the Holy Mass and the Divine Office. As the seminary grounds are located in the urban uptown neighborhood of the city of New Orleans, the chapel is in frequent demand by the archdiocese for various ceremonies, rites, and services that can be accommodated in the small nave seating only 175 persons. These realities guided my mind in planning a new instrument. Additionally, I wanted to provide an organ that would serve to inspire future priests not only in their daily prayer, but in the eventual reality that, God willing, they will one day serve as pastors in parishes across the Gulf south, and that they themselves might go on to commission similar instruments of such high quality for these parish communities in which they will serve.

The concept for the seminary organ—two manuals and pedal with two enclosed divisions and an unenclosed complete principal chorus—came about through the months and years of conversations with Francesco Ruffatti, tonal director of the firm. This idea would seem to deliver the most flexibility for our instrument. It was also through these discussions and because of my desire to honor the French patrimony of the city, archdiocese, and seminary, that our concept for a French-inspired instrument was developed. Francesco and Michela had previously spent much time surveying and studying several famous instruments by the builder Cavaillé-Coll in preparation for what has become one of the firm’s landmark organs—in Buckfast Abbey, Devon, U.K., which contains a French Gallery division. Our instrument here in New Orleans is largely influenced by that study.

As we have now completed the installation of the instrument and are in the process of voicing and tuning, we have begun using the instrument at liturgies. To say that the organ surpasses my every expectation would be a gross understatement: it literally sings in the room. It is possible to lead the entire seminary community with only the 8′ Montre. The rich harmonics seem to lift the voices high in the nave. The Gregorian chant Propers sung by the Seminary Schola Cantorum are beautifully accompanied by the Gemshorn. The sounds are truly gorgeous in every sense of the word.

This project would not have been possible without the incredible support of the Very Reverend Father James A. Wehner, S.T.D., Sixteenth Rector and Sixth President of Notre Dame Seminary. As well, profound thanks are due to the entire team at Fratelli Ruffatti, including Piero, Francesco, and Michela Ruffatti, Fabrizio Scolaro, Evgeny Arnautov, Nancy Daley, and Tim Newby.

—Max Tenney

Associate Professor, Organist and

Director of Sacred Music

Notre Dame Seminary

The Roman Catholic Archdiocese of New Orleans

Builder’s website: ruffatti.com

Seminary website: nds.edu

Cover photo by Steven Blackmon

Detail photos by Fratelli Ruffatti

 

GRAND-ORGUE Unenclosed Manual I

16′ Montre 61 pipes

8′ Montre 61 pipes

4′ Prestant 61 pipes

2-2⁄3′ Twelfth 61 pipes

2′ Doublette 61 pipes

1-3⁄5′ Seventeenth 61 pipes

2′ Fourniture III–V 264 pipes

Zimbelstern 12 bells

Sub Octave

Unison Off

Super Octave

GRAND-ORGUE Enclosed

16′ Bourdon (prep)*

8′ Flûte Harmonique 61 pipes

8′ Bourdon 61 pipes

8′ Gemshorn 61 pipes

8′ Gemshorn Celeste (TC) 49 pipes

4′ Flûte Octaviante 61 pipes

Tremblant for enclosed stops

8′ Cor de Wehner (Trompette de Fête) 61 pipes

Chimes (prep)*

Sub Octave

Unison Off

Super Octave

EXPRESSIF (Enclosed), Manual II

16′ Bourdon Doux (prep)*

8′ Stopped Diapason 61 pipes

8′ Viole de Gambe 61 pipes

8′ Viole Celeste (TC) 49 pipes

4′ Prestant 61 pipes

4′ Flûte de la Vierge 61 pipes

2-2⁄3′ Nasard 61 pipes

2′ Octavin 61 pipes

1-3⁄5′ Tierce 61 pipes

2′ Plein Jeu IV 244 pipes

16′ Basson-Hautbois 61 pipes

8′ Trompette Harmonique 61 pipes

8′ Hautbois (ext 16′) 12 pipes

Tremblant

8′ Cor de Wehner (Grand-Orgue)

Chimes (prep)*

Sub Octave

Unison Off

Super Octave

PÉDALE (Unenclosed)

32′ Contre Basse (prep)*

32′ Contre Bourdon (prep)*

32′ Resultant (from Soubasse 16′)

32′ Harmonics V (from Montre 16′ and Subbass 16′)

16′ Montre (Grand-Orgue)

16′ Soubasse 32 pipes

16′ Bourdon (Grand-Orgue)

16′ Bourdon Doux (Expressif)

8′ Basse 32 pipes

8′ Bourdon (ext 16′ Soubasse) 12 pipes

8′ Stopped Diapason (Expressif)

4′ Flûte (ext 16′ Soubasse) 12 pipes

32′ Contre Bombarde (prep)*

32′ Contre Basson (prep)*

16′ Bombarde 32 pipes

16′ Basson (Expressif)

8′ Trompette (ext 16′ Bomb.) 12 pipes

4′ Hautbois (Expressif)

8′ Cor de Wehner (Grand-Orgue)

Chimes (Expressif)

* console preparation for digital stop

50 speaking stops (including preparations and wired stops)

34 pipe ranks

1,970 pipes and 12 real bells

INTERDIVISIONAL COUPLERS

Expressif to Grand-Orgue 16, 8, 4

Grand-Orgue Enclosed to Expressif Transfer

Grand-Orgue Unenclosed to Pédale 8, 4

Grand-Orgue Enclosed to Pédale 8, 4

Expressif to Pédale 8, 4

Manual Melody Coupler

Grand-Orgue Cor de Wehner Coupler

COMBINATION ACTION

Generals 1–10

Grand-Orgue 1–6, Cancel

Expressif 1–6, Cancel

Pédale 1–6, Cancel

Set

General Cancel

Next (+) (multiple locations)

Previous (–)

All Generals Become Next (piston)

Divisional Cancels on stop jambs for each division

MIDI

MIDI Grand-Orgue

MIDI Expressif

MIDI Pédale

Pedal Divide 1

Pedal Divide 2

(Pedal divide configurations and dividing point are programmable from the touchscreen)

CANCELS (not settable)

Reeds Off

Mixtures Off

 

Zimbelstern

Tutti (Full Organ)

Expression for Expressif

Expression for Grand-Orgue Enclosed

All Swells to Expressif

Crescendo

CONSOLE CONTROL SYSTEM

The control panel is a 5.7-inch-wide color touchscreen.

Functions and features:

• Screen settings, language selection, date and time display, thermometer display

• Metronome

• Transposer, by 12 semitones either way

• Crescendo and Expressions bargraphs

• Crescendo sequences: standard and settable

• Crescendo Off

• Diagnostics

• “Open” memory containing up to 9,999 memory levels for the General pistons

• Additional 100 personalized folders, each containing up to 9,999 memory levels for the General pistons

• Access to the folders by password or by personal proximity sensor

• Up to 5 “insert” combinations can be included or cancelled between each General piston to correct errors or omissions while setting combination sequences

• Renumbering function for modified piston sequences

• All system data can be saved on USB drive.

• Display for combination piston and level in use

• Combination action sequences can be stored with the name of the piece, and pieces can be collectively grouped and saved into labelled “Concert” folders.

RECORD AND PLAYBACK

Export/import recordings with USB drive.

Peragallo Pipe Organ Company, Paterson, New Jersey; Saint Leonard of Port Maurice Parish, Boston, Massachusetts

A long time ago, a young John Peragallo, Sr., made his way up to Boston from what was then a much smaller New York City—a fraction of the size we know today. He served as an apprentice and installer with the notable Ernest M. Skinner Company and had been recommended by his superiors to go up to Boston to gain experience at the big plant.  

A lot has changed in both towns since that day, but some things remain the same. The North End neighborhood in Boston is still teeming with its Italian flavor from the old days and even today is filled with many people coming directly from Italy to share in the American dream. It is common to walk down the street and hear people conversing in their native tongue, living a day, not with the American rush, but with the pace and temperament you would expect to find on the streets of Rome. This neighborhood also holds many of Boston’s most historic treasures: the Old North Church, Paul Revere’s home, and the infamous naval ship, the USS Constitution. These monuments lie just steps away on the Freedom Trail from the parish church of Saint Leonard of Port Maurice. 

Founded by the Franciscan friars in 1873, Saint Leonard’s parish had struggled through decades of stretched resources leaving the church severely impacted by the brutal Boston winters. The pastor of Saint Leonard’s, Monsignor Antonio Nardoianni, was handpicked by the archbishop to restore this old church, which has been home to tens of thousands of immigrants over the generations. Monsignor went about this mission by tirelessly working along with the parishioners to raise the millions of dollars needed, dollar by dollar with a donation box right outside the church gate. Along with the local parishioners, the tourists who passed the church funded its reconstruction over many years bringing about a new connection for the visitors and this parish. The efforts of all paid off in the resulting beautifully restored Romanesque structure that once again serves the Boston faithful to its fullest potential. 

The original Laws pipe organ had seen years of exposure to the leaks that were permeating the roof and compromised much of the mechanism and wood pipework. The balcony would for the short term no longer house the choir due to accessibility deficiencies, presenting a new hurtle of how the parish would have access to its organ. 

After 100 years, the Peragallos found themselves back in Boston, this time building organs under a family banner that was forged in John, Sr.’s days in the old city. Father Antonio, familiar with the Peragallos’ work on new organs from decades prior, asked that they come take a look at his unique circumstances and see what solutions may be considered. In the late summer and fall of 2018, Frank, John (III), Anthony, and John (IV) Peragallo made multiple visits to discuss the project in greater detail over espresso in the old Italian café next to Saint Leonard’s. 

The new pipe organ’s tonal resources are fully encased in reciprocal cherry cabinets, reflecting the many architectural features found in and around the church. A widely scaled Trompetta de Porto Maurizio is positioned en chamade at the center of the organ on a bridge that spans the two opposing cabinets. This bridge provides a solid backbone for tone to project down the center axis of the church.   

The new tonal design features many of the original ranks of pipes and includes more than a dozen new ranks to fill its palette. A new soaring Harmonic Flute and Oboe are some of the featured solo stops atop a foundation of lush and widely scaled fluework that pays homage to the early 20th-century American organ sound. The antiphonal division is specifically designed to support the liturgy from the front of the church and allows the organist to maintain pace between the gallery and chancel from the new console position on the floor of the nave. 

The new French terraced keydesk is also built of cherry. This design was made to be as compact as the stoplist would allow, as its new home would be in the front of the church near the altar where there is an abundance of programmatic needs for the liturgical celebration.  

From inception to completion, the project took less than a year to complete, with a promised completion by Easter of 2019. The Peragallo team brought its full complement of resources to bear, seeing the original instrument taken down and shipped back to the shops in Paterson just as the Christmas season was wrapping up. The design team simultaneously worked with the parish design team to develop the final look of the casework that would properly fit this grand architecture, and after months of designing, the final plan was completed. The factory was humming with each component of the organ being meticulously crafted and assembled in the workshops. A few months later the completed instrument was carefully disassembled, packed, and readied for transport.  

The organ installation team arrived at Saint Leonard’s on a cold March day and began to erect the instrument. This part of the process is a team effort, with many of the crew being away from home for weeks on end to see the instrument to completion. The crew settled into one of the homes not far from the church, with Frank Peragallo cooking a big Italian dinner each night utilizing the many great culinary resources of this neighborhood. This somewhat compensated the pain of being on the road and many hours of hard work. The final voicing occurred in late March by the Peragallo family, just in time, and as promised to Monsignor, for Holy Week to begin.  

Complete with the new organ, the newly renovated space holds a tremendous range of acoustic. One’s existence as an individual is noticeably distinguished upon entrance to this space from the bustling city just beyond the church doors. Making impactful music in this acoustic environment is natural and blossoms through Saint Leonard’s great dome with many of the well-known organ works, but also liberates the creative genius that can see new melodies transpire. It is such a pleasure to see that Saint Leonard’s is often a place where concert artists such as the notable Leonardo Ciampa find themselves. Mr. Ciampa’s connection to Saint Leonard’s is beyond just a great performance space but one that dates back generations. His family has been patrons of Saint Leonard’s for over 100 years. Leonard’s constant drive to contribute to the knowledge and upbringing of new talents in the organ world is greatly appreciated, and the Peragallo family is honored that he was one of the dedicatory recitalists of the new pipe organ.  

The first dedicatory recital was performed by David Reccia Chynoweth, organist, on May 24, 2019.  

The Peragallos thank everyone who made this project possible—Father Antonio Nardoianni, Carol and Nick Ferreri and family, and all who gave their time and support to the restoration of this great edifice and pipe organ. We also thank the staff of the church, the current pastor, Fr. Michael Della Penna, who was born and raised in the North End of this great city, and the current director of music, Juan Mesa, who continue the work of this parish to this day.

—John Peragallo IV

Peragallo Pipe Organ Company: www.peragallo.com

Saint Leonard of Port Maurice Parish: saintleonardchurchboston.org/

Photos provided by the Peragallo Pipe Organ Company.

GREAT ORGAN

16′ Violone wps

8′ Montre 61 pipes

8′ Violoncelle wps

8′ Bourdon Cheminée 61 pipes

8′ Flûte Harmonique 49 pipes (common bass)

8′ Flûte Conique (expressive) wps

8′ Flûte Conique Celéste (expr) wps

4′ Prestant 61 pipes

4′ Flûte Octaviante 12 pipes (ext Flûte Harmonique)

2′ Doublette 61 pipes

III/IV Fourniture 183 pipes

IV Cymbale composite

16′ Basson wps

8′ Trompette 61 pipes

8′ Cromorne wps

4′ Clairon (ext Trompette) 12 pipes 

Tremblant 

Chimes wps

CHAMADES (49 pipes)

8′ Swell Trompetta de Porto Maurizio 

8′ Great Trompetta de Porto Maurizio

SWELL ORGAN (expressive)

8′ Montre composite

8′ Cor de Nuit 61 pipes

8′ Viole de Gambe 61 pipes

8′ Voix Celéste (TC) 49 pipes

4′ Prestant 61 pipes

4′ Flûte Traversiere 61 pipes

2-2⁄3′ Nasard (g20) 30 pipes

2′ Octavin (ext Flûte Trav) 12 pipes

1-3⁄5′ Tierce (g20) 30 pipes

II/V Plein Jeu composite

16′ Cor di Bassetto wps

8′ Hautbois 61 pipes

8′ Voix Humaine  wps

Tremblant 

CHANCEL ORGAN (expressive)  

8′ Montre wps

8′ Flûte Angelique wps

8′ Cor de Chamois wps

8′ Cor de Chamois Celeste wps

4′ Prestant wps

4′ Flûte Fuseau wps

8′ Cor d’ Amour wps

Chancel Tremblant 

PEDAL ORGAN

32′ Contre Basse wps 

32′ Flûte Conique wps

16′ Montre wps

16′ Violone Great

16′ Flûte Conique wps

16′ Bourdon 32 pipes

8′ Montre Great  

8′ Bourdon (ext 16′ Bourdon) 12 pipes

8′ Flûte Conique wps 

4′ Flûte Ouverte Great

32′ Contre Bombarde wps

16′ Bombarde 32 pipes

16′ Basson Great 

4′ Cromorne Great   

Couplers 

Great to Pedal 

Swell to Pedal 

Swell to Pedal 4

Chancel to Pedal 

Swell 16

Swell Unison Off

Swell 4 

Swell to Great 16

Swell to Great 

Swell to Great 4

Great 4 

Chancel to Swell 

Chancel to Great  

Chancel 4  

MIDI

Pedal MIDI 1

Pedal MIDI 2 

Swell MIDI 1

Swell MIDI 2

Great MIDI 1

Great MIDI 2

Bass Coupler

Combination System 

300 levels of memory

Piston sequencer with next and previous thumb and pistons 

Programmable Crescendo and Sforzando 

Thumb Pistons  

1–8 General 

General Cancel

1–4 Swell 

1–4 Great  

Setter

Reversible Thumb Pistons

Great to Pedal 

Swell to Pedal 

Sforzando 

Next 

Previous

Up

Down  

Toe Pistons 

1–8 General

1–4 Pedal

Reversible Toe Pistons

Great to Pedal

Sforzando

Next

Accessories

Music rack and light

Pedal light

Digital programmable crescendo and bar graph (horizontal type)

Digital programmable sforzando and indicator 

Swell expression and bar graph

Great/Chancel Expression and bar graph 

Transposer 

Sequencer 

 

53 stops

21 ranks of pipes

1,112 speaking pipes

 

Wps = Walker pipe sampled voice

John Bishop

Control freaks

A little over a year ago, I bought a slightly used 2017 Chevrolet Suburban. It replaced a 2008 Suburban that I drove 250,000 miles. I prefer buying cars that have 10,000 or 15,000 miles on them because I think the first owner absorbs the loss of the “new car value,” and I get to buy a fancier car for less money. The first Suburban was black. Wendy thought Tony Soprano while I thought Barack Obama. My colleague Amory said “Special Agent Bishop” when I arrived at his house to pick him up. But the funnier thing was that while sitting in an on-street parking spot in New York City in the big black car, people would open the back door and get in, thinking I was the limo they had ordered. That happened several times, and each time brought a good shared laugh.

I like to have big, comfortable cars because I drive a lot (between 1985 and 2018, I drove six cars a total of nearly 1,250,000 miles, which is an average of about 38,000 miles a year), and because I carry big loads of tools, organ components, and, um, boat stuff. I can put an eight-foot rowing dinghy in the back of the Suburban and close the door. The new Suburban gets about forty percent more miles to the gallon. But the biggest difference is the electronics.

Sitting at a stoplight facing uphill, I move my foot from the brake to the accelerator to start moving, and a sign on the dashboard lights up, “Hillside brake assist active.” I am told that I am Driver #1 for the auto-set feature for seats and mirrors (and steering wheel and pedals). I am told when my phone connects to Bluetooth or when Wendy’s phone is not present in the car. I am told when the rain sensor is operating the wipers. I am told when my tire pressure is low. I am told when I am following a car too closely. And to the amusement of friends and family, and a little excitement for me, the driver’s seat buzzes when I get close to things like Jersey Barriers, trees, or other cars. It sounds like the gabbling of eider ducks when they are rafting together in big groups at sea.

The feature I like best is Apple CarPlay. When my phone is plugged into the charger, my Apple icons show up on the dashboard touchscreen giving me easy and safe access to Apple Maps, Google Maps, hands-free messaging, and phoning. I can activate Siri with a button on the steering wheel and place a call or record a reminder, so I have no excuse for forgetting things. One of the icons is my Audible account so I can listen to my library of ebooks as I drive.

I expect there is a downside to all these gadgets. Any organbuilder knows that there is a whopper of a wiring harness snaking through the car and a CPU somewhere deep in the bowels of the vehicle, and I imagine that the most expensive repairs I will face down the road will be correcting cranky electronics.

One thing leads to another.

I am thinking about electronic controls because I was amused recently by a post on Facebook by Damin Spritzer¹ who wrote, “Does anyone else have anxiety dreams about Sequencers? *Laughs weakly and makes more coffee.*” There ensued a flurry of responses, some thoughtful and provocative, some ridiculous, and some downright stupid. This conversation brought to my mind several themes I have developed over the years about the advances of pipe organ control systems and various colleagues’ reactions to the relevance, convenience, and pitfalls of new generations of this equipment.

In the late 1980s, I took over the care of the heroic Aeolian-Skinner organ at The First Church of Christ, Scientist (The Mother Church), in Boston, Massachusetts. With 237 ranks and well over 13,000 pipes, this was quite a responsibility. Jason McKown, then in his eighties, who had worked personally with Ernest Skinner in the 1920s, was retiring after decades of service, and before I arrived, the church had contracted with another organ company to install a solid-state switching and combination system. Jason’s comment was simple, “This is for you young guys.” I was present to help with that installation, and, of course, was responsible for maintaining it. That was before the days of effective lightning protection, and whenever there was a thunderstorm, we had to reprogram the Crescendo memory. I had a helper who memorized that huge list of stops, and I could trust her to drop by and punch it in.

Marie-Madeleine Duruflé played a recital at Boston’s Trinity Church for the 1990 convention of the American Guild of Organists. A few days before she was to arrive to prepare for her performance, the solid-state combination system in the organ stopped working and the organ went dead. The company that built the system sent a technician with a bale of spare cards, and we worked through two nights to get the organ running again, just in time for Madame Duruflé to work her magic.

The Newberry Memorial Organ in Woolsey Hall at Yale University is one of the great monuments of twentieth-century organbuilding. With more than a 165 voices and over 12,500 pipes, it is high on the magic list of the largest Skinner organs, and Nick Thompson-Allen and Joe Dzeda have been its curators for over fifty years. Nick’s father, Aubrey Thompson-Allen, started caring for the organ in 1952. That huge organ is played regularly by dozens of different people, and one might expect that a combination system with multiple levels would have been installed promptly there. But at first, Joe and Nick resisted that change, correctly insisting that the original equipment built by Ernest Skinner’s people must be preserved as a pristine example of that historic art and technology.

However, along with Yale’s teachers, they understood that the change would be a big advantage for all involved, including the durability of the organ itself. Knowing that the cotton-covered wire used in Skinner organs would soon be no longer available, they proactively purchased a big supply. At their request, Richard Houghton devised a plan that added 256 levels of solid-state memory while retaining the original combination action and retaining the original electro-pneumatic actions to operate the drawknobs and tilting tablets as pistons were pushed and settings engaged. Houghton was sensitive to all aspects of the situation, and the 1928 console still functions as it did ninety-one years ago, while serving the procession of brilliant students and performers who use that organ for lessons, practice, and performance. The addition of the new equipment was accomplished with great skill in the spirit of Mr. Skinner under Joe and Nick’s supervision. Neat bundles of green and red cotton-covered wire wrapped in friction tape connect the hundreds of circuits of the console to the new unit, just as if it had been installed by Mr. Skinner’s workers in 1928. A side benefit was the elimination of countless hours spent resetting pistons as each organist took to the bench, hours lost for valuable practice, hours when the huge blower was running to support that mundane task.

Next

The sequencers to which Dr. Spritzer was referring are accessory functions of the more advanced solid-state combination systems that allow an organist to set sequences of pistons whose individual settings are advanced during performance by repeatedly pressing a piston or toe stud labeled “Next.” In addition, some systems allow the organist to program which pistons would be “Next,” so some make all the buttons have that function, while others choose buttons that are easy to reach and difficult to miss.

There is a steep learning curve in gaining proficiency with sequencers. It is easy enough to punch a wrong button or to fail to insert an intended step, so double-checking before performing is advised. And malfunctions happen, leaving a performer stranded with an unintended registration in the heat of battle. In thirty-six hours, Dr. Spritzer’s post attracted 135 “Likes” and 185 responses from organists who have had those magic moments. The brilliant performer Katelyn Emerson chimed in, “When the sequencer jumped no fewer than 16 generals on the third to last page of Liszt’s Ad nos, and I landed on nothing more than an 8′ Gamba, I had nightmares for weeks.” Reading that, I thought, “If it can happen to her, it can happen to anyone.”

Here are a few other replies to Dr. Spritzer’s post:

“No music was written for sequencers, so I don’t use them.”

“Didn’t have to dream it. I lived it.”

“When forward and back are unlabeled brass pedals one inch apart, only mayhem will ensue.”

“I just stick to mechanical action.”

“You know, I’m a sequencer phobic. I’ve had situations where I hit it and it zipped up five pistons.”

“Petrified of the things . . . . Yes, that’s why I never use them.”

Any colleague organbuilder who has or might consider installing a sequencer in an organ console should jump on Facebook (or get a friend to help you), find Dr. Spritzer’s post, and read this string of responses.

There are two basic ways that piston sequencers work. One is that you set all the pistons you need, and then set them in a chosen sequence. You can reuse individual settings as often as you would like, and there is no meaningful limit to the number of steps in a saved sequence. You can go back and edit your sequence, adding or deleting settings mid-way through. This is sometimes referred to as the “American” system.

The “European” system is a little different. It runs through General pistons in order, then scrolls up to the next level of memory and runs through them again. The scrolling continues through all the levels. This seems limiting, because it specifies exactly the order in which you must set pistons, and if you want to return to a setting, you have to program another piston the same way. In both styles, there is typically an LED readout on the console showing the current step in the sequence, and which piston it is, and if there isn’t, there should be.

If there are so many pitfalls, why bother? One of the great things about the state of the pipe organ today is that there are so many brilliant players who concertize around the world. If you perform on twenty or thirty different organs each year, especially those with big complicated consoles, you might take comfort in finding handy gadgets that are common to many of them. If you are adept and comfortable using sequencers, you do not have to go fishing around a big complex console looking for Swell 1, Great to Pedal, General 22, Positiv to Great 51⁄3′, Great 6, All 32′ Stops Off. You just keep hitting “Next.” Some consoles are equipped with “Next” buttons up high, so your page-turner can press it. (If you need that kind of help, maybe you should try the autoharp.)

Some teachers discourage the use of sequencers. Stephen Schnurr, editorial director and publisher of The Diapason, wrote that he “forbids” his students to use them in public performances at Valparaiso University where he teaches. He confirmed my guess, that he is encouraging them to “stand on their own two feet” and learn to play the organ seriously “the old-fashioned way.” That reminds me of my apprenticeship in Jan Leek’s workshop in Oberlin, Ohio, where he made sure I could cut a piece of wood straight and square by hand before teaching me the use of the super-accurate stationary machines. Further, Schnurr believes it is important that students do not rely on sequencers so heavily that they are bamboozled when faced with a console that does not have one. After all, I would guess that well over half of all organs do not have piston sequencers.

Looking at the other side of the issue, a few months ago, the Organ Clearing House installed a practice organ at the University of Washington, specially intended to expose students to the latest gadgets. We expanded a Möller Double Artiste to include a third independent unified division and provided a three-manual drawknob console with a comprehensive solid-state combination action that includes a sequencer. The organ allows students to develop proficiency using a sequencer in the safety of a practice room. It also features two independent expression boxes.

The old-fashioned way

The Illinois organbuilder John-Paul Buzard drives “Bunnie,” his Model A Ford, across the picturesque countryside, sometimes alone, and sometimes in the company of fellow members of a club of Model A owners. It looks like a ton of fun and great camaraderie, especially as club members help each other through repairs. Nevertheless, I will bet he uses a vehicle that is more up to date in the context of daily life. I am not an expert, but I am guessing that the Model A would be taxed if pressed into the mileage-hungry travel routines of an active organ guy. The Michelin radial tires on my whiz-bang Suburban are much better suited for endless hours at, um, eighty miles-per-hour than the 4.75 x 19 tires on the Model A.

In 1875, E. & G. G. Hook & Hastings built a spectacular organ with seventy stops and 101 ranks (Opus 801) for the Cathedral of the Holy Cross in Boston, Massachusetts. The company’s workshop was within walking distance, and Frank Hastings reveled in taking potential clients to see it. It was equipped with a pneumatic Barker lever to assist the extensive mechanical keyboard and coupler actions, ten registering composition pedals, and a fourteen-stop Pedal division, complete with four 16′ flues, a 12′ Quint, and a 32′ Contra Bourdon. Anyone familiar with the construction of such organs knows that represents about an acre of windchest tables.

Thirty-one years later, in 1906, the Ernest M. Skinner Company built a four-manual, eighty-four-rank organ (Opus 150) for the Cathedral of Saint John the Divine in New York, New York. That organ had electro-pneumatic action throughout, pitman windchests, and an electro-pneumatic combination action with pistons and a crescendo pedal. That is a quantum leap in pipe organ technology in thirty-one years.

Look back to the iconic Cavaillé-Coll organ at St. Sulpice in Paris, France, built in 1860. This was likely the most advanced instrument of its time, and the myriad original mechanical and pneumatic registration machines are still in use. We can reproduce how Widor, Dupré, and countless other genius players managed that massive instrument (although the presence of an electric blower takes away some of the original charm—it must have been quite a chore to maintain a brigade of organ pumpers to get through performances of Widor’s organ symphonies). Louis-James Alfred Lefébure-Wély was the organist there when the instrument was new, but Cavaillé-Coll realized that he was not the equal of the instrument and championed Widor as the next titulaire. Widor exploited the vast tonal resources of that great organ transforming the art of organ playing, inspired and enabled by Cavaillé-Coll’s technological innovations.

Ernest Skinner, with his comprehensive combination-actions, helped enable innovative artists like Lynwood Farnam develop new styles of playing. Widor and Farnam were apparently not above using complex and newly developed controls to enhance their command of their instruments. Their organbuilders demanded it of them.

I first worked with solid-state combinations in the late 1970s. Those systems were primitive, and excepting the revolutionary availability of two levels of memory, they had pretty much the same capabilities as traditional electric and electro-pneumatic systems. As the systems got more complex, they were sensitive to flukes like lightning strikes, and their developers worked hard to improve them. Recently I commented to a colleague that we all know that Mr. Skinner’s systems could fail. A hole in a piece of leather could mean that the Harmonic Flute would not set on divisional pistons. He agreed but replied that a good organ technician with a properly stocked tool kit could open up the machine and fix the problem in an hour or so. Some organbuilders are now proficient with electronic repairs, while others of us rely on phone support from the factory and next-day shipment of replacement parts to correct problems.

§

I could repair almost anything in my first car. There were two carburetors, a mechanical throttle, a manual choke, and an ignition rotor. When you open the hood of my Suburban, you see some plastic cowls and some wires and assume there is a cast engine block down in there. To start the car, I step on the brake and push a button. The key must be present, but it stays in my pocket. If I leave the key in the car and shut the doors, the horn gives three quick toots, telling me that the car knows better than to lock the doors. But I suppose someday it will smirk, toot twice, and lock me out.

Next.

Notes

1. Dr. Damin Spritzer is assistant professor of organ at the American Organ Institute of the University of Oklahoma, Norman, artist in residence at the Cathedral Church of St. Matthew in Dallas, Texas, and an active international recitalist. You can read more about her at http://www.ou.edu/aoi/about/directory/spritzer-bio.

John Bishop

How does it work?

It happened again. I sat at this desk for days mud wrestling with an unruly topic for this column. Twice I had more than a thousand tortured words on the screen, went upstairs for a break, and came back to Ctrl-Shift-A-Delete. But Anthony Tommasini, music critic for The New York Times, came to my rescue with his article under the headline, “Why Do Pianists Know So Little About Pianos?,” published November 12, 2020. This article was born as the outbreak of COVID-19 got rolling in New York City last March and his piano needed tuning, but his apartment building was locked down and workers from outside were not allowed in except for emergencies. “An out-of-tune piano hardly seemed an emergency.”

He quotes the brilliant Jeremy Denk as not knowing “the first thing about piano technology.” Denk, whose playing I admire deeply and who like me is an alumnus of Oberlin College, had the same issue as Tommasini when his building locked down, but convinced the superintendent of his apartment building that because playing the piano is his profession, his tuner should be accepted as an essential worker. It worked.

Tommasini singles out Mitsuko Uchida as one prominent pianist who is an intimate student of piano technology. He quotes her as saying, “you get stuck when the weight is different key to key, the piano has been sloppily prepared, and the dampers have not been adjusted—or the spring in the pedal.” She went on, finding trouble when “the pin underneath the key [guide pin] is dirty, or the other pin in the middle of the mechanism [balance pin] is dirty, rubbing, or slurping.” I love the word slurping in this context.

Tommasini reminds us that orchestral players know more about their instruments than most pianists, and that unlike pianists, orchestral players own their instruments and can carry them with them between performances. Vladimir Horowitz traveled with his own piano, but then, Horowitz was Horowitz. You tell him “No.” Unusual among modern pianists, Mitsuko Uchida travels with her own piano. When Tommasini asked her if the institutions where she plays cover that cost, she said “usually not.” But she went on, “I have no excess otherwise. I don’t need country houses, expensive jewelry, expensive cars, special collections of whatever.” I suppose her usual fees cover that cost and still provide her with lunch money.

Tommasini concluded the column: Back at my apartment, the technician finally dropped by, tuned my piano, and made mechanical tweaks to a few of the keys. Afterward, it felt and sounded vastly better. I have no idea what was involved.

Press the key and the pipe blows.

The pipe organ is the most complex of all musical instruments. It is such a sophisticated machine that other musicians, including some world-renowned orchestral conductors, consider it to be unmusical. While a violinist or clarinetist can accent a note by applying a touch more energy, what a single organ pipe can do is all it can do. The organist can accent a note by tweaking the rhythm—a nano-second of delay can translate into an accent—or by operating a machine. A twitch of the ankle on the Swell pedal does it, so does coupling a registration to another keyboard with a soft stop so a note or two can be accented by darting to the other keyboard. The creative organist has a bag of tricks that bypass the mechanics and allow the behemoth to sing.

I have been building, restoring, repairing, servicing, selling, and relocating pipe organs for over forty-five years, and I know that many organists have little idea of how an organ works, so I thought I would offer a short primer. If you already know some or most of this, maybe you can share it with people in your church to help them understand the complexity. In that case, it might help people, especially those on the organ committee, understand why it is so expensive to build, repair, and maintain an organ.

Pipes and registrations

A single organ pipe produces a tone when pressurized air is blown into its toehole. The construction of the pipe is such that the puff of air, which lasts as long as the key is held, is converted to a flat “sheet” that passes across the opening that is the mouth of the pipe. The tone is generated when the sheet is split by the upper lip of the mouth. This is how tone is produced by a recorder, an orchestral flute, or a police whistle. Organ pipes that work this way are called “flue pipes,” and there are no moving parts involved in tone production. Reed pipes (trumpets, oboes, clarinets, tubas, etc.) have a brass tongue that vibrates when air enters the toehole: that vibration is the source of the tone.

Since each pipe can produce only one pitch, you need a set of pipes. We call them ranks of pipes, with one pipe for each note on the keyboard to make a single organ voice. Additional stops are made with additional ranks. There are sixty-one notes on a standard organ keyboard. If the organ has ten stops, there are 610 pipes. Pedal stops usually have thirty-two pipes.

The Arabic numbers on stop knobs or tablets refer to the pitch at which a stop speaks. 8′ indicates unison pitch because the pipe for the lowest note of the keyboard must be eight feet long. 4′ indicates a stop that speaks an octave higher, 2′ is two octaves higher, 16′ is an octave lower. Some stops, such as mixtures, have more than one rank. The number of ranks is usually indicated with a Roman numeral on the stop knob or tablet. A four-rank mixture has four pipes for each note. The organist combines stops of different pitches and different tone colors to form a registration, the term we use to describe a group of stops chosen for a particular piece of music or verse of a hymn.

The length of an organ pipe determines its pitch. On a usual 8′ stop like an Open Diapason, the pipe for low CC is eight feet long, the pipe for tenor c° is four feet, for middle c′ is two feet, and the highest c′′′′ is about three inches. Every organ pipe is equipped with a way to make tiny changes in length. Tuning an organ involves making those tiny adjustments to hundreds or thousands of pipes.

Many organs have combination actions that allow an organist to preset a certain registration and recall it when wanted by pressing a little button between the keyboards (piston) or a larger button near the pedalboard to be operated by the feet (toestud).

Wind

When playing a piece of music on an organ, the little puff of air through each organ pipe to create sound is multiplied by the number of notes and the number of stops being used. Play the Doxology, thirty-two four-note chords, on one stop and there will be 128 puffs of air blowing into pipes. Add a single pedal stop to double the bass line and you will play 160 pipes. Play it on ten manual stops and two pedal stops, 1,384. A hundred manual stops (big organ) and ten pedal stops, 6,420, just to play the Doxology, a veritable gale.

Where does all that wind come from? Somewhere in the building there is an electric rotary blower. In smaller organs, the blower might be right inside the organ, in larger organs the blower is typically found in a soundproof room in the basement. The blower is running as long as the organ is turned on, so there needs to be a system to deal with the extra air when the organ is not being played, and to manage the different flow of air for small or large registrations. The wind output of the blower is connected to a unit that most of us refer to as a bellows. “Bellows” actually defines a device that produces a flow of air—think of a fireplace bellows. Before we had electric blowers, it was accurate to refer to the device as a bellows. When connected to a blower that produces the flow of air, the device has two functions, each of which implies a name. It stores pressurized air, so it can accurately be called a reservoir, and it regulates the flow and pressure of the air, so it can accurately be called a regulator. We use both terms interchangeably.

Between the reservoir/regulator and the blower output, there is a regulating valve. Sometimes it is a “curtain valve” with fabric on a roller that operates something like a window shade, and sometimes it is a wooden cone that seats on a big donut of felt and leather to form an air-tight seal. In either case, the valve is connected to the moving top of the reservoir/regulator. When the blower is running and the organ is not being played, the valve is closed so no air enters the reservoir. When the organist starts to play, air leaves the reservoir to blow the pipes, the top of the reservoir dips in response, the valve is pulled open a little, and air flows into the reservoir, replenishing all that is being used to make music by blowing pipes.

Weights or springs on the top of the reservoir regulate the pressure. The organ’s wind pressure is measured using a manometer. Picture a glass tube in the shape of a “U,” twelve inches tall with the legs of the “U” an inch apart. Fill it halfway with water, and the level of the water will be equal in both legs. With a rubber tube, apply the pressure of the organ’s wind, and the level of the water will go down on one side of the “U” and up on the other. Measure the difference and voilà, you have the wind pressure of the organ in inches or millimeters. It is common for the wind pressure to be three inches or so in a modest tracker-action organ. In a larger electro-pneumatic organ, the pressure on the Great might be four inches, six inches on the Swell, five inches in the Choir, with a big Trumpet or Tuba on twelve inches. The State Trumpet at the Cathedral of Saint John the Divine in New York City is on 100 inches. I used to carry a glass tube full of water into an organ, a risky maneuver. Now I have a digital manometer.

In a small organ, the blower typically feeds a single reservoir that regulates the flow and pressure and distributes the wind to the various windchests through wind conductors (pipes), sometimes called wind trunks. In larger organs, it is common to find a regulator in the basement with the blower, and big pipes that carry wind up to the organ where it distributes into various reservoirs, sometimes one for each keyboard or division. Very large organs have two, three, four, or more windchests for each keyboard division, each with its own reservoir. A large bass Pedal stop might have one reservoir for the lowest twelve notes and another for the rest of the stop. And speaking of big pedal stops, the toehole of the lowest note of something like a 16′ Double Open Wood Diapason can be over six inches in diameter. When that valve opens, a hurricane comes out.

Windchests

The organ’s pipes are mounted on windchests arranged in rows on two axes. All the pipes of one rank or stop are arranged in rows “the long way,” and each note of the keyboard is arranged in rows “the short way.” The keyboard action operates the notes of the windchests, and the stop action determines which sets of pipes are being used. Pull on one stop and play one note, and one pipe plays. Pull on five stops and play a four-note chord, and twenty pipes play. In a tracker-action organ or an electric-action organ with slider chests, the keyboard operates a row of large valves that fill a “note channel” when a note is played and a valve opens. The stops are selected by sliders connected to the stopknobs, which have holes identical to the layout of the holes the pipes are sitting in. When the stop is off, the holes do not line up. When the stop is on, they do, and the air can pass from the note channel into those pipes sitting above open sliders.

It is common in electro-pneumatic organs for there to be an individual valve under every pipe. There is an electric contact under every note on the keyboard, a simple switch that is “on” when the note is played. The current goes to the “primary action” (keyboard action) of the windchest. The stops are selected through various devices that engage or disengage the valves under each set of pipes. When a note is played with no stops drawn, the primary action operates, but no pipe valves open. The stopknobs or tablets have electric contacts similar to those in the keyboards. When a stop is turned on and a note is played, a valve opens, and a pipe speaks.

We refer to “releathering” an organ. We know that the total pipe count in an organ is calculated by the number of stops and number of notes. An organ of average size might have 1,800, 2,500, 3,000 pipes. Larger organs have 8,000 or 10,000 pipes, even over 25,000. The valves under the pipes are made of leather, as are the motors (often called pouches) that operate the valves. Releathering an organ involves dismantling it to remove all the internal actions, scraping off all the old leather, cutting new leather pieces, and gluing the motors and valves in place with exacting accuracy. The material is expensive, but it is the hundreds or thousands of hours of skilled labor that add up quickest.

It’s all about air.

We think of the pipe organ as a keyboard instrument, but that is not really accurate. A piano’s tone is generated by striking a string that is under tension and causing it to vibrate. That is a percussion instrument. The tone of the pipe organ is generated by air, either being split by the upper lip of the organ pipe or causing a reed tongue to vibrate. The organ is a wind instrument. When we play, we are operating machinery that supplies and regulates air, and that controls the valves that allow air to blow into the pipes. When I am playing, I like to think of all those valves flapping open and closed by the thousand. I like to think of those thousands of pipes at the ready and speaking forth when I call on them like a vast choir of Johnny-One-Notes. I like to think of a thousand pounds of wood shutters moving silently when I touch the Swell pedal. I believe my knowledge of how the organ works informs my playing.

A piano is more intimate than a pipe organ, though technically it is also played by remote control as a mechanical system connects the keys to the tone generation. I am not surprised, but I am curious why more pianists do not make a study of what happens inside the instrument when they strike a key. I believe it would inform their playing. A clarinetist certainly knows how his tone is generated, especially when his reed cuts his tongue.

I have always loved being inside an organ when the blower is turned on. You hear a distant stirring, then watch as the reservoirs fill, listen as the pressure builds to its full, and the organ transforms from a bewildering heap of arcane mechanical gear to a living, breathing entity. I have spent thousands of days inside hundreds of organs, and the thrill is still there. 

That’s about 1,800 words on how an organ works. My learned colleagues will no doubt think of a thousand things I left out. I was once engaged to write “Pipe Organs for Dummies” for a group of attorneys studying a complex insurance claim. It was over twenty-five pages and 15,000 words and was still just a brief overview. Reading this, you might not have caught up with Mitsuko Uchida, but you’re miles ahead of Jeremy Denk.

A postscript

In my column in the November 2020 issue of The Diapason (pages 8–9), I mentioned in passing that G. Donald Harrison, the legendary president and tonal director of Aeolian-Skinner, died of a heart attack in 1956 while watching the comedian-pianist Victor Borge on television. The other day, I received a phone message from James Colias, Borge’s longtime personal assistant and manager, wondering where I got the information. I have referred to that story several times and remembered generally that it was reported in Craig Whitney’s marvelous book, All the Stops, published in 2003 by Perseus Book Group. Before returning Colias’s call, I spoke with Craig, who referred me to page 119, and there it was.

I returned Mr. Colias’s call and had a fun conversation. He told me that he had shared my story with Borge’s five children (now in their seventies). He also shared that when Victor Borge was born, his father was sixty-two-years-old, so when he was a young boy, he had lots of elderly relatives. His sense of humor was precocious, and when a family member was ailing, he was sent to cheer them up. Later in life, Borge said that they either got better or died laughing. I guess G. Donald Harrison died laughing.

Photo: Tracker keyboard action under a four-manual console, 1750 Gabler organ, Weingarten, Germany. (photo credit: John Bishop)

John Bishop

Connectivity

It does not seem that long ago that packing a briefcase for a business trip meant gathering file folders and notebooks. Today, all my files are digital, and my briefcase is full of chargers for iPhone and iPad and the power cord for my laptop. I admit to carrying an HDMI cord with adapters so I can plug into the television in a hotel room and watch movies or other good stuff using laptop, iPad, or phone, and I carry an extension cord to be sure I can set up camp comfortably. I add to all that a Bluetooth speaker so I can listen to music and NPR programs with rich sound. There are a lot of wires in my wireless life.

My desk at home similarly includes wires that make the essential connections of my life, and I had to add one more yesterday. The printer in a drawer under my desk, happily connected to Wi-Fi, suddenly went hermit on me and refused to perform. I ascertained that the Wi-Fi connection had failed and spent most of an hour mucking around with passwords, straightened paper clips, and reset buttons . . . to no avail. If this had happened at our home in Maine, I would have jumped into the car (it was snowing) and driven forty-five minutes to Staples to buy a cord. Luckily, I was in New York, where Staples is immediately across the street from us. The only door I have to pass is an ATM. Even though it was snowing, I did not bother with a jacket and ran across to get the cord. I fished it through the hole I had made for the printer’s power cord, and I was back in business.

I suppose I will want to renew the Wi-Fi connection sooner or later, but as I only paid $125 for the printer, I may just buy another one rather than spending more time trouble-shooting. Wendy’s printer is working fine, as is all of our other wireless gear, so I feel safe assuming that the printer is the culprit. It is not all that long ago that I put paper directly into a typewriter, and there was no question about the need for connectivity.

§

Toward the end of the nineteenth century, scientists and engineers were racing against each other to perfect the harnessing and application of electricity for everyday life. J. P. Morgan’s mansion at Madison Avenue and East 36th Street in New York City was illuminated by Thomas Edison in 1882. There was a fire that spoiled Mr. Morgan’s expensively appointed study that necessitated replacing a lot of wiring, but he was very proud to be on the forefront of that revolution and invited hundreds of people to parties at his home, encouraging them to marvel at the new equipment.

Three years earlier, E. & G. G. Hook & Hastings had completed a 101-rank masterpiece of an organ for the Cathedral of the Holy Cross in Boston, Massachusetts. I have not done the research, but I feel safe guessing that it was the largest organ in the United States at that time. (https://pipeorgandatabase.org/OrganDetails.php?OrganID=7254) Just look at that Great Chorus! Though the organ now has electric action opening the pallets, it was built without electricity, with mechanical key and stop action and a human-powered wind system.

Within ten years of the completion of the organ at Holy Cross, organbuilders were experimenting with electric power in pipe organs. Builders like George Hutchings and Ernest M. Skinner were developing the electro-pneumatic actions with which we are familiar today. In 1906, Mr. Skinner completed his massive instrument (Opus 150) for the newly unfinished Cathedral of St. John the Divine in New York City. With four manuals and eighty-four ranks, it was among the first really large fully electro-pneumatic organs in the world, completed just twenty-four years after the Holy Cross organ. (http://aeolianskinner.organhistoricalsociety.net/Specs/Op00150.html) And by the way, it had electric blowers.

That was quite a revolution. It took barely a generation to move from tracker action, proven to be reliable for over five hundred years, to electro-pneumatic action—that new-fangled, up-and-coming creation that provided organists with combination actions, comfortable ergonomic consoles (decades before the invention of the word ergonomic), myriad gadgets to aid registrations, and, perhaps most important, unlimited wind supplies. Many organists were skeptical of the new actions, thinking that because they were not direct they could not be musical.

In spite of the skepticism, electro-pneumatic organs sold like fried dough at the state fair. Before the end of 1915, the Ernest M. Skinner Company produced more than 140 organs (more than ten per year), forty-six of which had four manuals. (Who would like to go on a tour of forty-six pre-World War I four-manual Skinner organs? Raise your hand!) The negative side of this is the number of wonderful nineteenth-century tracker organs that were discarded in the name of progress, but it is hard to judge whether the preservation of those instruments would have been advantageous over the miracles of the innovation of electro-pneumatic action.

And a generation later, what went around came around when the new interest in tracker-action organs surged, and scores of distinguished electro-pneumatic organs were discarded in favor of new organs with low wind pressure and lots of stops of high pitch.

§

Early electro-pneumatic organs relied on elaborate electro-pneumatic-mechanical switching systems for their operation. Keyboard contacts operated matrix relays to control keyboard and stop actions. Consoles were packed full of coupling and combination machines, inspired along with the development of the vast multiplication of switching systems that supported the spread of the telephone. The wiring diagram of a Skinner organ is remarkably similar to the old telephone switchboards where operators inserted quarter-inch plugs into sockets to connect calls.

Along with “traditional” organs for churches and concert halls, the advance of electric actions fostered the theatre organ, a vehicle that allowed a musician to rollick through the countryside along with the antics and passions of the actors on the screen. The invention of double-touch keyboards expanded the scope of organ switching, as did the ubiquitous “toy counters” that duplicated the sounds of cow bells, train whistles, sleigh bells, thunder and lightning, car horns, and dozens of other sound effects that might have a use during a movie. Those novelty sounds were not synthesized, but produced by the actual instrument being manipulated, struck, shaken, or stirred by an electro-pneumatic device. Push the button marked “Castanets,” and a half-dozen sets of castanets sound across the Sea of Galilee. Ole!

The original switching system of a big electro-pneumatic organ is a thing to behold—electric relays in rows of sixty-one, seventy-three, or eighty-five (depending on the number of octaves in a rank, a windchest, or a keyboard). Each relay has a contact for each function a given key can perform. In a big four-manual organ with sub, unison, and super couplers every which way, multiple windchests for each division, and unified stops around the edges, one note of the Great keyboard might have as many as twenty contacts in various forms. Sometimes you see that many contacts physically mounted on each key, with miniscule spacing, and tiny dots of solder holding the connections fast. Spill a cup of coffee into that keyboard, and your organ technician will spend scores of billable hours cleaning up after you.

One organ I worked on for years was in fact two. The organ(s) at Trinity Church in Boston included a three-manual instrument in the chancel and a four-manual job in the rear gallery. Of course, both had pedal divisions. The console functioned as a remote-control device, its keyboards, stopknobs, pistons, and expression pedals operated a complex relay in a basement room directly below. The outputs for seven keyboards and two pedalboards (491), 175 stop knobs, 45 coupler tabs, 7 pistons, and 4 expression pedals (48 for shutters, 60 for crescendo) were in the cable going to the basement, a total of 826 conductors. But wait, there’s more. Since the combination action was also in the basement, the conductors from the combination action that operated the drawknobs and couplers were in the same conduit, bringing signals up from the basement. Drawknobs and couplers totaled 220, and each needed three wires (on coil, off coil, and sense contact)—660. All together, the console cable comprised 1,486 conductors.

When my company was engaged to install the new solid-state switching and combinations in that organ, we wired all the equipment to the existing relays in the basement and chambers, bought an orphaned console for temporary use and equipped it with new stop jambs with knob layout identical to the original, and set everything up with plug-in connectors. After the evening service one Sunday, we cut the console cable, dragged the original console out of the way, placed the temporary console, and started plugging things in. With just a little smoke escaping, we had the organ up and running in time for the Friday noon recital. One glitch turned up. One of my employees consistently reversed the violet/blue pair of conductors in our new color-coded cable so throughout the complex organ, #41 and #42 (soprano E and F) were mixed up!

When something goes wrong like a dead note or a cipher, physical electric contacts are fairly easy to trouble-shoot. Once you have acclimated yourself to the correct location, you are likely to be able to see the problem. It might be a bit of schmutz keeping contacts from moving or touching, it might be a contact wire bent by a passing mouse. Organ relays are often located in dirty basements where spiders catch prey, stonewalls weep with moisture, and careless custodians toss detritus into mysterious dark rooms. Many is the time I have seen the like of signs from a 1963 rummage sale heaped on top of delicate switching equipment.

Oxidation is another enemy of organ contacts that are typically made of phosphorous bronze wire that reacts with oxygen to form a non-conductive coating, inhibiting the operation of the contacts. Also, in a simple circuit that includes a power supply (organ rectifier), switch (keyboard contact), and appliance (chest magnet), a “fly-back” spark jumps across the space between contacts as a note is released. Each spark burns away a teeny bit of metal until after millions of repetitions the contact breaks causing a dead note. You can see this sparking clearly when you sit with a switch-stack with the lights off while the organ is being played.

You can retro fit a switching system by installing diodes in each circuit (which means rows of sixty-one) that arrest the sparks. You can replace phosphorous bronze with silver wire that does not oxidize, but you still have to keep the whole thing clean and protected from physical harm.

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Just as the telephone companies have converted to solid-state switching, so has the pipe organ industry. Solid-state equipment is no longer new; in fact, it has been around as long as electro-pneumatic organs were before the revival of tracker organs. But perhaps some of you don’t actually know what “solid-state” means. A solid-state device controls electricity without any physical motion. Circuits are built using semi-conductors. What is a semi-conductor? A device that conducts electricity under certain circumstances or in particular ways, less fully than a standard conductor. A piece of wire is a conductor. Electricity travels freely over a piece of wire in any direction.

A great example of a semi-conductor is the diode I mentioned earlier that contains “fly-back” sparks when a circuit is broken. The diode can do this because it conducts electricity in only one direction. It has a wire on each end to connect to a circuit, and power can flow from the switch through the diode to the magnet (if you have installed it facing the right way!). When the contact is released, the power cannot come back through the diode from the magnet to the switch. Semi-conductor.

Some semi-conductors are in fact switches (transistors) with three legs. Apply power to one leg, and power flows through the other two. Integrated circuits are simply little gadgets that contain many transistors. Resistors are gadgets that reduce the flow of power by resisting it. The advance of electronics has been enabled by the reduction of size of these components. I have transistors in my toolbox that are replacements for common organ controls that are each the size of my pinkie fingernail. Huge! I have no idea how many circuits there are in my iPhone, but it must be millions.

I first worked with solid-state organ actions in the late 1970s. One job was in a rickety Anglican church on East 55th Street in Cleveland where we were installing one of the earliest Peterson combination actions in an old Holtkamp organ. The church had a dirt crawl space instead of a basement, and as the apprentice, it was my job to crawl on my belly with the rats (yup, lots of them), trailing cables from chamber to console. We followed the directions meticulously, made all the connections carefully, crossed our fingers, and turned it on. Some smoke came out. It took us a couple hours to sort out the problem, and we had to wait a few days for replacement parts, but the second time it worked perfectly. I do not believe we were very sure of what we had done, but we sure were pleased.

In around 1987, I became curator of the marvelous Aeolian-Skinner organ (Opus 1202, 1951) at the First Church of Christ, Scientist (The Mother Church) in Boston. With over 230 ranks and 13,000 pipes, the instrument had heaps of electro-pneumatic-mechanical relays. As I came onboard, wire contacts had started to break at a rapid rate, and as the switches were mounted vertically, when a contact broke, it would fall and lodge across its neighbors causing cluster ciphers. Ronald Paul of Salt Lake City, Utah, had been contracted to install a new solid-state switching system, and I was on hand to help him with many details. I was assuming the care of the organ from Jason McKown who had worked personally with Ernest Skinner at the Skinner Organ Company and cared for the Mother Church organ since it was installed. Jason was in his eighties and still climbed the hundreds of rungs and steps involved in reaching the far reaches of that massive organ.

Jason looked over all the shiny gear, bristling with rows of pins and filled with those fiberglass cards covered with mysterious bugs, shook his head, and said, “this is for you young fellows.”

Swing wide the gates.

Over the past fifty years, most of us have gotten used to solid-state pipe organ actions. In that time, we have seen the medium of connections go from regular old organ cable to “Cat5” to optical fiber. I know that some of the firms that supply this equipment are experimenting with wireless connections. I suppose I may be asked to install such a system someday, but while I am committed to solid-state switching and all its benefits, I am skeptical about wireless.

Forty years ago, I was organist at a church in Cleveland that had a small and ancient electronic organ in the chapel. I was happy enough that I almost never had to play it, but there was one Thanksgiving Day when the pastor chose to lead an early morning worship service in the chapel. Halfway through that service, human voices blared out of the organ, decidedly irreverent human voices. The organ was picking up citizens band radio transmissions from Euclid Avenue in front of the church. I dove for the power cord. “Roger that, good buddy. Over and out!”

We have wireless remote controls for televisions, receivers, radios, even electric fans, and it is often necessary to punch a button repeatedly to get the desired function to work. And there was that printer yesterday, choosing idly to skip the bounds of our Wi-Fi router and booster, requiring the introduction of a new wire.

When I think of a wireless connection between the console and chambers of a large pipe organ, I imagine sweeping onto the bench, robes a-flutter, turning on the organ, pushing a piston, and garage doors throughout the neighborhood randomly opening and closing. Swing wide the gates, I’m coming home.