Remembering John Obetz: 1933-2015

The Kotzschmar Organ

At 2:23 a.m. on January 24, 1908, a fire started, ironically, in the wiring of a new-fangled fire alarm system that was housed in the office of the city electrician on the third floor of City Hall in Portland, Maine. Public alarm was quickly raised, but freezing temperatures hampered the operation of the primitive fire fighting equipment, and the building was completely destroyed.

City leaders lost no time recovering from the disaster. The New York architectural firm of Carrère & Hastings, newly famous for their design of the New York Public Library completed in 1908, was engaged to design the new building, which was built, decorated, and furnished in just a few years and was ready for dedication in the summer of 1912.

Less than four months after the City Hall fire, on April 15, 1908, Portland’s most highly revered musician, Hermann Kotzschmar, passed away. A German immigrant, he had been encouraged to move to Portland by Cyrus Curtis, an interior decorator, prominent citizen, and music lover, who had heard Kotzschmar perform in Boston. When Kotzschmar and his wife moved to Portland, they lived in the Curtis home until they were established and could find a home for themselves.

Hermann Kotzschmar became organist at First Parish Church in Portland, formed an orchestra and choral society, and was the beloved teacher of scores of young musicians. The friendship that developed between Curtis and Kotzschmar was so close that Cyrus Curtis named his son Cyrus Hermann Kotzschmar Curtis (1850–1933). Cyrus H. K. Curtis made quite a success of himself, founding the wildly popular The Saturday Evening Post and The Ladies’ Home Journal, and later acquiring The Philadelphia Inquirer, The Philadelphia Evening Post, and The New York Evening Post. He amassed a vast fortune and was a prolific philanthropist.

After learning of Hermann Kotzsch-mar’s death, Cyrus H. K. Curtis approached his lifelong friend, Adam Leighton, former mayor of Portland and chair of the City Hall building commission, offering to purchase a huge pipe organ to be installed in the auditorium of the new City Hall as a gift to the people of the city of Portland. He commissioned the Austin Organ Company of Hartford, Connecticut, to build the organ, and wrote to Mr. Leighton, 

I have given them carte blanche to build [the] organ, unhampered by any organist or music committee, and without any prejudice or pre-conceived notions of my own, knowing that they are better qualified to build the right kind of instruments than I could be or any committee whose member might differ in their views as to what was best.

He continued, 

As this organ is to be a memorial to Hermann Kotzschmar, I have asked [Austin] to provide some sort of place in the organ front for a bust of Mr. Kotzschmar and I am writing Mrs. Kotzschmar for photographs of her late husband with the idea of putting them into the hands of the best sculptor I know.

The cost of the organ was not to exceed $30,000, and Curtis’s gift made necessary alterations in the plans for the building, at a cost totaling $23,244.75, which was quickly authorized by the City Council.

On July 1, 1912, Mayor Oakley Curtis and the Portland City Council approved the formation of a music commission of three persons who would serve three-year terms. The commission would be responsible for the maintenance of the organ and the selection and hiring of the municipal organist. The virtuoso Will C. MacFarlane was appointed the city’s first organist; he was on the bench on Thursday, August 22, 1912, for the dedication of City Hall and the Kotzschmar Organ. The program opened with Léon Boëllmann’s Suite Gothique, followed by a prayer and Owen Brainard of Carrère & Hastings presenting the mayor with the keys to the building.

Chairman Leighton gave a report to the assembly that included the announcement that the cost of the building was $930,934.34. His report concluded, 

And now, Your Honor, Mayor Curtis, please accept from the fellow members of the building commission their hearty good-will, along with the formal relinquishment of stewardship of this beautiful structure, which is destined, we believe, to enhance Portland’s title to the compliment it so often receives of being the most beautiful city of the New World.

Cyrus H. K. Curtis then took the stage:

Mr. Mayor: 

I present to the City of Portland through you, this memorial to Hermann Kotzschmar, who for more than fifty years was pre-eminent in this city as organist, composer, and teacher, a man who was loved by all classes for his kindly spirit, his high ideals, and his devotion to music.  

He cared little or nothing for material things or for fame­—he never sought them, but here is his monument—a monument to one who did something to make us better men and women and appreciate that indefinable something that is an expression of the soul.

Cyrus H. K. Curtis purchased three different Aeolian organs for his home in Wyncote, Pennsylvania, and in 1926 he purchased the immense Austin organ (146 ranks!) for Irvine Auditorium in Philadelphia as a gift to the University of Pennsylvania. The depth of his devotion to the art of music is seen in the heritage left by his daughter, Marie Louise Curtis Bok, who worked at South Philadelphia’s Settlement Music School, teaching underprivileged children.¹ She realized the need for a high-quality school of music that would be available to anyone, and in 1924, founded the tuition-free Curtis Institute of Music in Philadelphia in honor of her father, so the influence of Hermann Kotzschmar is actively alive in Philadelphia as well as in Portland.

The Friends of the Kotzschmar Organ

The Kotzschmar organ had a wonderful career as a cultural icon in the center of the city’s artistic life. A succession of brilliant musicians served as municipal organist through the first half of the twentieth century. But by the 1970s, the organ had fallen onto hard times. The city’s budget was strained, and its leaders found it difficult to preserve the budget for the care and use of the organ ahead of essential services.

In 1980, Berj Zamkochian, organist of the Boston Symphony Orchestra, brought a group of friends to see the Kotzschmar Organ. Among them was Maurice Prendergast, late of Kennebunk, Maine, who was impressed by the organ but dismayed by its condition. A few days later, he visited the offices of the Portland Symphony Orchestra, and presented executive director Russ Burleigh with a check for $10,000 to be used for repairing the organ. As the organ was owned by the city, Burleigh felt that it would be inappropriate to accept the gift on behalf of the orchestra, and conferred with PSO president Peter Plumb. The idea of forming a non-profit group devoted to the care of the organ emerged, interested parties negotiated with the city to assume the responsibility for the care of the organ, and in 1981, the Friends of the Kotzschmar Organ (FOKO) was founded, with Peter Plumb as founding president.

A board of directors was established, fund raising began, and FOKO presided over critical repairs to get the organ back on its feet. Concert programming was renewed, and the organ regained its active presence. When the City Hall auditorium was renovated in the 1990s, the organ was removed from the hall for safe keeping, and the stage was significantly enlarged. Through heroic efforts by FOKO and the herculean devotion of organ curator David Wallace, in 1997 it made its triumphant return to the newly renamed Merrill Auditorium.

Transition and growth

Ray Cornils was appointed Portland’s tenth municipal organist in 1990.² Ray’s tenure of 27 years in that position is the longest in the history of the position. His consummate musicianship, his gracious and welcoming personality, his affinity for working with young people in FOKO’s vast educational efforts, and his skill at nurturing the complex relationships between FOKO and the City of Portland have been essential to the growth and success of FOKO. Ray was patient with the failing and recalcitrant organ, coaxing it through its dying breath on numerous occasions and helping scores of visiting organists navigate its treacheries. Ray’s ability to show the organ in its best light, no matter the circumstances, was central to its continued prominence.

Ray was equally essential to the lengthy task of the renovation of the organ, working with the organ committee through dozens of complex meetings, assisting in raising funds, and continuing as the ambassador for the Kotzschmar Organ. He helped play the organ out of the hall as the renovation began and played it back into Portland as a renewed instrument. In many ways, Ray Cornils has been “Mister Music” for the city of Portland and the state of Maine.

David Wallace first met the Kotzschmar Organ at the age of six, the beginning of his devotion to the instrument, and the formation of his career as an organbuilder. David’s zeal was essential to the organ’s survival through budget cuts, near abandonment, and the immense chore of bringing it back to life after the renovation of the hall. Although news reports heralded the return of the “restored” Kotzschmar Organ, David knew as well as anyone that its days were still numbered.

In 2007, the reality of the organ’s condition was made clear to the board of directors, and plans for a serious and comprehensive renovation of the organ were formed. You can read in depth of the history of that process, from startled realization, to the thrill of the organ’s second triumphant return to the hall in 2014 on FOKO’s website at www.foko.org/2012-renovation/.

During the 2016 annual meeting of FOKO’s board of directors, Ray Cornils announced his retirement, to be effective after the traditional holiday concerts, “Christmas with Cornils,” in December 2017. A search committee³ was formed in October 2016, whose work started with the realization that the newly renovated organ could serve as a vehicle for a new life for the organization. Purposefully intending to remain open to structuring a new position around the talents of the next municipal organist, the committee solicited applications, reviewed recorded submissions, and selected six finalists who would travel to Portland for live interviews and auditions in May and June of 2017. After the auditions, the committee quickly reached a unanimous decision.

The Eleventh Municipal Organist

On Monday, September 18, 2017, the board of directors of the Friends of the Kotzschmar Organ voted unanimously to accept the recommendation of the search committee to appoint James Kennerley as Portland’s eleventh municipal organist. That evening, at its regular bi-monthly meeting, the Portland City Council welcomed an ensemble named Burundi Drummers Batimbo United in a colorful thunderous performance in City Council chambers. They took special action to change residency requirements for Class C board members of the non-profit Portland Fish Exchange, made several special proclamations brought forward by Mayor Ethan Strimling, and acted on the order to appoint James Kennerley as municipal organist, effective January 1, 2018.

James Kennerley began his formal musical education as a chorister at Chelmsford Cathedral, where proximity to the organ inspired his interest in the instrument. He holds degrees from Cambridge University and The Juilliard School, and the prestigious diploma as a Fellow of the Royal College of Organists. After holding positions at St. Paul’s Cathedral in London, Christ Church, Greenwich, Connecticut, and St. Mary the Virgin (Times Square) in New York City, he presently serves as organist and choirmaster at the Church of St. Ignatius of Antioch in New York City, where he directs a professional choir of 18 voices.

James won first place in the 2008 Albert Schweitzer National Organ Playing Competition and was winner of the 2013 composition competition of the Association of Anglican Musicians. He is active in New York and abroad as an organist, harpsichordist, singer, and conductor.

Recently, James and I sat together in my apartment in New York City to chat about the start of his work in Portland. He spoke eloquently about the role of the performer, bringing thought-provoking expression, musical and artistic statements both old and new, and outright entertainment to sacred congregations and secular audiences alike. But while serving a church is to be organist to the people of the church, serving as a municipal organist is to be an ambassador, a host, and a musician all at once.  

He expressed his excitement about getting to know the people of Portland and to drawing audiences to the city from afar. James and his wife, Emily, had gotten to know Portland earlier through visits with friends who live there—friends who consider Portland to be a hip and up and coming place to live, “the Brooklyn of the East Coast!” It is a city of about 65,000 residents (the size of a usual neighborhood in New York City), in a metropolitan area of about 250,000, and is home to a fleet of flourishing arts organizations including the Portland Art Museum and the Portland Symphony Orchestra.

The recent renovation of the Kotzschmar Organ is testament to the population’s commitment to the arts. It’s hard to believe that $2,400,000 could be raised for such a purpose in a city that size. By contrast, with all its cultural wealth, there is no public secular pipe organ in New York City.

James spoke of the newly renovated organ in the beautiful auditorium as a fresh canvas on which to paint a new musical picture. His vision as host is to welcome the city’s residents and visitors into City Hall, into a world of the arts including offerings from all disciplines.

By comparison, he spoke of the chef and owner of a fine restaurant, welcoming patrons into comfortable surroundings where an exciting world of things both familiar and unexpected is waiting.  Perhaps one weekend, we’ll depart from the usual menu and venture into an interesting world of exotic cuisine. Perhaps one week, we’ll invite a guest chef to approach the home stove and present something new to the neighborhood.

And as we talked, he took the restaurant metaphor further. He and Emily had just returned from a vacation in Europe, where they traveled off the beaten touristy path to remote villages in Spain where no one spoke English and where restaurants didn’t offer English menus. With little or no command of Spanish, and by cobbling together some understanding of Latin, and wisps of other languages, they ordered meals and were sometimes surprised by what turned up.

James compared that experience to the average citizen who shows up for a concert, is handed a menu in a foreign language, and takes his chances from limited knowledge as to what’s coming. The maître d’hôtel escorts the diner to his seat, unfolds the napkin, offers a glass of water, and explains the intricacies, the ingredients, and philosophies of each dish. The performer as host, as maître d’hôtel, can introduce a composer, place the music in the appropriate geographic and political context, and draw the average listener into an enlightened experience that is otherwise unattainable. The more you know about something, the easier it is to order and enjoy something unfamiliar.

The hot seat

The search committee established a tough audition process. Merrill Auditorium is a very busy place where time is at a premium, and the committee balanced the desire to hear the largest possible number of live auditions with the need to provide candidates with time to prepare at the organ. Candidates were given two hours of practice time to prepare one hour of audition performance. Just look at all those knobs. It was a daunting task.

James Kennerley had never played the Kotzschmar Organ before his audition, and in those two precious hours, he mined the tonal ore of the instrument to the deepest depths, and produced a program that included sophisticated serious music, glimpses into whimsy and fantasy, and a virtuosic romp of his own creation on the Brazilian smash hit, Tico-Tico no Fubá.  

Portland audiences, you have no idea how much you’re going to love welcoming James Kennerley as your eleventh municipal organist. Come early, come often. Bring your friends, lots of friends. We’ll be happy to recommend restaurants. It’s a big hall. There are plenty of seats. It’s going to be a blast.

Notes

1. Marie Louise Curtis’s first husband was Edward Bok, editor of her father’s magazine, The Ladies’ Home Journal. Their son, Curtis Bok, was Justice of the Pennsylvania Supreme Court. Their grandson, Derek Bok, was president of Harvard University. Marie Louise Curtis’s second husband was the violinist Effrem Zimbalist, director of the Curtis School of Music. His son, Efrem Zimbalist, Jr., was an actor, renowned for his starring roles in 77 Sunset Strip, and The F.B.I. Efrem Zimbalist, Jr’s., daughter, Stephanie, played Laura Holt in the NBC detective series, Remington Steele.

2. Will C. MacFarlane served two tenures, from 1912–1918, and 1932–1934.

3. Members of the search committee included John Bishop, Tom Cattell (president of the FOKO board of directors), Andy Downs (director of public facilities for the city), Elsa Geskus, Tracy Hawkins, Brooke Hubner (executive director of FOKO), Peter Plumb, Larry Rubinstein (chair), Harold Stover, and Mark Terison.

A thousand ages in Thy sight . . . 

In June 1956, the Aeolian-Skinner Organ Company, under the leadership of tonal director G. Donald Harrison, was rushing to complete the new organ for St. Thomas Church on Fifth Avenue in New York City. Pierre Cochereau, the organist at the Cathedral of Notre Dame in Paris, was to open the national convention of the American Guild of Organists on June 26 with a recital on the new organ at St. Thomas Church, and the pressure was on.

On June 14, New York’s taxi drivers were on strike, forcing Harrison to walk the eight blocks home to the apartment on Third Avenue he shared with his wife, Helen. It was unseasonably hot, and the exhausted Harrison stopped at a drug store for a dose of smelling salts. After dinner that evening, “Don” sat down with Helen to watch the impish piano virtuoso Victor Borge on television, and at 11 p.m. suffered a massive fatal heart attack. On June 18, he was buried on Long Island.¹

In exquisite foreshadowing and coincidence, on June 18, 1956, John Gavin Scott was born in Wakefield, Yorkshire, in the United Kingdom. His early musical education and performing career was as a chorister at Wakefield Cathedral. From 1974 to 1978 he served as organ scholar at St. John’s College, Cambridge, under George Guest. After his graduation, he served concurrently as assistant organist at Southwark and St. Paul’s Cathedrals in London. And in 1990, he famously rose to serve as organist and director of music at St. Paul’s, following the retirement of Christopher Dearnley.

John Scott was appointed organist and director of music of St. Thomas Church and Choir School in New York in 2004, forty-eight years after the death of the creator of the organ there. 

On Tuesday, August 11, 2015, John Scott returned home to New York from a triumphant concert tour of Europe, anticipating a day of meetings discussing the replacement of the much-altered Aeolian-Skinner organ at St. Thomas, and the start of a new academic year with the Choir School. According to the website of St. Thomas Church, he was “not feeling well the next morning and suffered a sudden cardiac episode. He was taken to Roosevelt Hospital but never regained consciousness. His wife, Lily, was by his side when he died.” John and Lily were married at St. Thomas Church in May 2013, and Lily gave birth to their son, Arthur John Gavin Scott, on September 4. 

The power of social media

Social media is everywhere, and there are all kinds of uses for it, from the ridiculous to the sublime. I don’t need to describe the ridiculous—everyone who lurks on Facebook knows what I mean. But the sublime is there, and it can be powerful. In August, I was following the Facebook posts of four colleagues giving concert tours in Europe. Each published photos of the organs they were playing, and the buildings they were in. There were a few obligatory pub photos, and one of an Austrian cow. There were photos of statues of great musicians, with captions describing our colleague’s inspiration as they followed in great footsteps. It was fun to follow them as they crossed paths, sharing the stories of each venue, and rewarding to share the observations of such sensitive musicians as they sat on the same benches occupied by past masters.

John Scott was one of the touring artists. It was fun to follow him as he moved around, but eerie to scroll through them a second time after receiving the news of his death. How was anyone to know that this would be his last concert? 

And never in its eleven-year history has Facebook showed its real value more than the days following John Scott’s tragic and untimely death, as hundreds of mentors, colleagues, and former and present choristers eloquently shared their grief and memories around the world. Photos of John at the organ, in front of choirs and orchestras, and at post-concert celebrations in pubs showed up by the hundred. I clicked “play” for dozens of John’s performances as they appeared on my page—from elegant moments of small ensembles on period instruments, to serene readings of the great anthems of the Anglican tradition, to the supreme sonic swashbuckling from the 1997 Christmas Concert at St. Paul’s Cathedral (type “St Paul’s Cathedral Choir 1997 Christmas Concert: Hark” in the YouTube search field, and fasten your seatbelt).

And someone please tell me, just how do a couple dozen boys project their voices in descant above such a mass of sound?

Millions of people have been privileged to hear John Scott’s music-making. His position at St. Paul’s Cathedral in London had him on the bench for such internationally televised celebrations as “The Royal Wedding” (Charles and Diana), Queen Elizabeth’s Diamond Jubilee, and the Queen Mother’s Hundredth Birthday.² And those of us who understand anything about performing before the public know that a certain amount of self-assurance (dare I say ego?) is necessary. 

But there are two sentiments common to virtually every comment I read: that John Scott was the consummate musician, setting the highest standards in everything he did, making it look natural and easy, and that John Scott was the epitome of humility, of gentlemanliness, of grace, and of kindness. I read of students who, in the thrall of John’s solo organ recordings, made impromptu international pilgrimages to hear him play, and were thrilled to be treated like honored guests. I read of colleagues who marveled at his virtuosity, hearing him play concerts that included not one, not two, but four or five of the most notoriously complex pieces—a series of blockbuster closers—with apparently little effort. And I read of people thrilled beyond belief to have received affirmation and encouragement from him. 

I read the words of parents of choristers who valued the fatherly, mentoring life example for their sons as much or more than the spectacular musical education. And I read the words of clergy describing John Scott as the ideal colleague, unruffled, unruffleable, intuitive, innovative, and always exquisitely prepared.We would have forgiven him for thundering through life with full awareness of his genius, dramatic swirls of a cape, and (as I once witnessed a world-famous conductor do in Cleveland) standing regally erect to announce his restaurant dinner order in stentorian voice, stopping all other conversation in the room!

But there’s the beauty. As the Gospel of Luke reminds us not to keep our light (talent) hidden under a bushel, John Scott knew that his was a special gift, not given him for self-aggrandizement, but to be shared freely with all the energy he could muster. Hundreds of people writing about John on Facebook quoted Johann Sebastian Bach’s maxim, Soli Deo Gloria (to God alone be glory). John impressed and inspired thousands of musicians with his exquisite taste, consummate musicianship, and unparalleled collegiality.  He honored us all by the care he invested in his work, and our lives are all enriched by his devotion to the music of the church.

Reminiscing 

In the past few days, I’ve spent time with several of John’s colleagues and coworkers, hearing their memories and impressions. I intended to distill those offerings into separate vignettes, but felt that it read too much like tributes to the contributors.³

You know those gala dinners when a member of the committee introduces the keynote speaker by giving a ten-minute biography of himself? 

Instead, what follows is drawn from the words of others.

John had a relentless work ethic. He studied, practiced, and programmed meticulously. He approached each piece of music and each instrument he played as a fresh experience, and he prepared each performance as though it were his first. When there was extra practice time available he used it diligently—perhaps nurturing his skills to be ready for the many times when there wasn’t much rehearsal or practice time.

John’s basic musical and keyboard skills were unparalleled. Once, when the choir was working toward a performance of J. S. Bach’s St. Matthew Passion, there were an extra few minutes in a rehearsal just before Evensong. John asked the choir to “take out the Bach” and run through one of the big flashy choruses. He went to the piano to lead, and his colleague noted that as the performance was to be performed at Baroque “low pitch” (A=415Hz) with an orchestra of period instruments, John was transposing down a half-step at sight. Another glance showed that he was playing from the full orchestral score—casually enough drawing on those basic skills—basic for him perhaps, but unattainable for most of us. His skills were perfectly preserved and carefully nurtured, available at any moment without notice.

Another rehearsal story came from an organist who was “filling in” during a period when the associate and assistant organist positions were vacant. The piece in question was Bach’s rollicking motet, Lobet den Herrn—five minutes and forty-five seconds of bounding Baroque ebullience. Determined to meet John’s standards, he had prepared carefully, and after a rehearsal run-through, was pleased to have grazed just one note. As the last chord died away, John turned to him and said, “Mr. ____, on page . . . .” One note of the multitude out of place, and John identified it perfectly and immediately. What’s more, the correction was not personal. It was accurate and simple, in the service of the music alone.

A colleague wrote: 

John’s unparalleled, gentlemanly conduct with people was tangible in his sense of musical proportion, balance, communication and temperament. Never the triviality of wasted time nor wasted words, what was undeniably correct in the music could not have been easier to comprehend and follow. One hundred simply perfect musical thoughts communicated with one gesture and a smile. The acceptance of nothing less through the reciprocity that made this possible without a hint of eccentricity, ever.

A correspondent engaged John to play a recital on his home instrument, enjoyed and admired John’s preparation, and was astonished during the performance at how fresh and vital the organ sounded. The story-teller was used to playing on the instrument weekly, performing frequently outside of worship, and hearing many other musicians use the same instrument—but somehow this performance was different. With the program over, John returned to New York, and the story-teller took a look at the piston settings used during the concert, expecting to find magical creative combinations as yet untried. But no. John had used registrations that were conventional and uncomplicated. There was simply something about his fingers on the keys, the turns of phrase, the impalpable sense of rhythm that transformed the instrument into something even more special.

In 2011, I wrote about attending worship at St. Thomas on Easter Sunday.⁴ Wendy and I attended the early Mass—the preludes started at 7:30 a.m. Two hours later, after we heard the sub-organists playing the anthems, hymns, and service music, John slid onto the bench for the postlude and it seemed suddenly like a different organ. It was breathtaking. The energetic drive of his playing woke up the instrument, giving it a new and distinct voice.

John was devoted to the boys of the choir. He cared deeply about them, and cared for them as a parent would. The mother of a chorister commented to the rector, “My son doesn’t have a father at home—Mr. Scott serves as his father.” John noticed dark circles under a chorister’s eyes. “You look a little tired. Do you need an early evening?” A chorister’s father posted a short video of John playing (pretty good) ping-pong with the boys, adding, “John was at home with the boys, and they were at home with him.”

The choir sang in a series of performances of Bach’s St. Matthew Passion, led by the brilliant Sir Simon Rattle. After the last performance, Rattle commented, “Those are the finest choristers I’ve ever worked with.”

An organist was dejected after missing notes and registrations during Evensong. John expressed his belief in his associate, encouraged him—“I know you have it in you”—giving the richest of collegial experiences.

An organbuilder working at St. Thomas spoke of John’s vision for the organ—his intuitive sense of how timbres blended, and how he was able to alter the sound of the instrument with the subtlest changes in phrasing and articulation. Another commented that John was at home with whatever instrument he played. When on tour, he played a wide variety of instruments, from massive romantic cathedral organs, to huge modern trackers, to tiny ancient instruments. One observer pointed out that it didn’t seem as though he adjusted to each organ, he simply played the organ of the day.

Big shoes to fill

It’s a special responsibility for an artist to follow a legend—to assume a post long held by a beloved, skilled, and admired predecessor. Gerre Hancock was organist and master of choristers at St. Thomas Church from 1971 until 2004. Known as “Uncle Gerre” to generations of musicians, he raised the musical and liturgical standards of worship at St. Thomas to stratospheric levels. People thronged from around the world to participate in worship there, and under his leadership, the St. Thomas Choir was respected as among the best. Dr. Hancock’s organ improvisations were legendary, as were his compositions and hymn arrangements. 

Following Gerre Hancock’s retirement, John Scott arrived in New York and quietly assumed his duties without fanfare. He simply took up where Hancock had left off, and continued to build and develop the sound, the prowess, and the international esteem of the choir. Perhaps this metamorphosis was enhanced by the turnover inherent in a choir of young boys. After all, a treble chorister’s career cannot last more than four or five years. But as one commented to me this week, John Scott saw himself as a steward of the choir, of that great tradition in that great church. It was his duty to encourage its work for the Glory of God as long as his tenure lasted. Tragically, his tenure was drastically shorter than any of us might have hoped or imagined. But we as individuals, and our art form, are the richer for having shared the earth with John Scott.

Never has the world of church music been graced by a more highly skilled, thoughtful, humble, caring participant. Church music will never be the same because John Scott was part of it. Much of his legacy is permanent through stacks of solo, choral, and ensemble recordings. And all who heard him have witnessed the best there is. He was born with immense gifts, nurtured them with grace and energy, and shared them generously with the world to the Glory of God. That was his way. ν

Notes

1. Craig Whitney, All the Stops, New York, PublicAffairs, 2003, page 119.

2. Queen Elizabeth appointed John Scott as a Lieutenant of the Royal Victorian Order (LVO) in 2004 in recognition of his work at St. Paul’s Cathedral.

3. Thanks to those who contributed memories by phone and in writing:

a. Fred Teardo, organist and director of music at the Cathedral Church of the Advent, Birmingham, Alabama, who served as associate organist at St. Thomas for more than five years.

b. Erik Suter, former organist at Washington National Cathedral, frequent “fill-in” organist at St. Thomas. Erik’s son Daniel is a chorister in the St. Thomas Boy Choir.

c. Haig Mardirosian, dean of the College of Arts and Letters at the University of Tampa, where he presides over the Dobson pipe organ in Sykes Chapel.

d. Canon Carl Turner, rector of St. Thomas Church.

e. Stephen Tharp, concert organist, and artist in residence at St. James Episcopal Church on Manhattan’s Upper East Side.

4. I have written twice about attending worship at St. Thomas Church with John Scott at the helm. See “In the wind . . . ” in The Diapason issues from January 2008 and June 2011.

Nunc Dimittis

Ronald Kent Arnatt, 88, died August 23, 2018. He was born January 16, 1930, in London, England, and was a boy chorister at Westminster Abbey and King’s College, Cambridge. He was educated at Trent College, Derbyshire, Trinity College of Music, London, and Durham University. From the latter, he was granted a Bachelor of Music degree in 1954. In 1970, Arnatt was awarded a Doctor of Music degree from Westminster Choir College, Princeton, New Jersey.

Over the course of his career he held numerous positions, including instructor, American University, Washington, D.C.; director of music, Mary Institute, St. Louis, Missouri; professor of music and director choral activities, University of Missouri, St. Louis; director of music and organist, Christ Church Cathedral, St. Louis; founder and conductor, St. Louis Chamber Orchestra and Chorus; conductor and music director, Bach Society of St. Louis; director of music and organist, Trinity Church, Boston, Massachusetts; president, American Guild of Organists; director of music and organist, St. John’s Episcopal Church, Beverly, Massachusetts; professor of church music and department head, Westminster Choir College; and editor, ECS Publishing, Boston. He was also the recipient of numerous awards, fellowships, and prizes.

Ronald Arnatt married Carol Freeman Woodward, who died in 2017. They had two daughters who survive, Ronlyn and Sylvia. He is also survived by nine grandchildren and nine great-grandchildren.

Jon L. Bertschinger, 65, died July 13, 2018, in St. Joseph, Missouri. He was born July 25, 1952, in Burlington, Iowa. Bertschinger began taking piano lessons at an early age, followed by organ lessons on the new M. P. Möller organ at his church, Messiah Lutheran Church, in Burlington, in 1958. He sang in and accompanied one of the five choirs at that church while in junior high school.

Bertschinger began work for the Temple Organ Company when it moved to Burlington in 1966, helping to install the rebuilt organ at First Methodist Church in 1967. He was still working with David Cool, son of the company’s founder, Fred Cool, when the church burned in 2007, and he accomplished the tonal finishing for the new 60-rank organ for the rebuilt church.

Bertschinger was on the volunteer staff for the Auditorium and Temple in Independence, Missouri, performing recitals under the direction of Jan Kraybill, former director of music for the Community of Christ Church. He also had regular church jobs in St. Joseph, sometimes two at a time, playing over the years at Westminster Presbyterian, Trinity Presbyterian, First Christian, and, up until his death, Brookdale Presbyterian.

Wesley Coleman Dudley, II, 85, of Williamsburg, Virginia, and Bar Harbor, Maine, died July 25 in Williamsburg. He was born in Buffalo, New York, December 15, 1932. He attended Nichols School and graduated from St. Paul’s School, Concord, New Hampshire, before receiving his bachelor’s degree from Yale University, New Haven, Connecticut. After two years in the United States Navy in Hawaii, he returned to Buffalo in 1958 to work at Worthington Pump Company. Six years later he became an entrepreneur, managing Auto Wheel Coaster Company, North Tonawanda, New York, before joining his family’s management office. He began spending winters in Williamsburg, Virginia, and summers in Bar Harbor, Maine, allowing him to explore his two dominant passions: pipe organs and boating.

A quiet philanthropist, he supported many projects anonymously, but there was one exception, the public radio program, Pipedreams. He was also a frequent donor to the Organ Historical Society.

Wesley C. Dudley was preceded in death by his daughter, Katherine Mary Dudley. He is survived by his wife of sixty-two years, Lucinda Nash Dudley, and his children, Nanette (David) Schoeder, Donald M. (Janet) Dudley, three grandchildren, Nicholas Schoeder, Katherine Dudley, and MacLaren Dudley, their mother Meg Dudley, and two step-grandchildren, Grace and Madeleine Waters. Memorial contributions may be made to Minnesota Public Radio, attn. Jamie Ziemann, 480 Cedar St., St. Paul, Minnesota 55101, or to the Dudley Scholarship at the Eastman School of Music, attn. Suzanne Stover, 26 Gibbs St., Rochester, New York 14604.

Steven E. Lawson, 63, of New York, New York, died suddenly, August 19, of natural causes. He had completed his usual Saturday evening practice at the Church of the Heavenly Rest, where he had served as assisting organist for 21 years, and failed to show up on Sunday morning.

Lawson was born September 9, 1954, in San Diego, California, attended elementary school in Fullerton, California, and high school in Topeka, Kansas. He earned the Bachelor of Music degree in organ performance at Oklahoma City University, where he studied with Wilma Jensen, and the Master of Music degree in organ performance at Indiana University, also studying with Wilma Jensen. At Indiana University, he minored in carillon performance and accompanied the University Singers, working with conductors Robert Shaw and Margaret Hills. Before his appointment at the Church of the Heavenly Rest, Lawson served St. Luke’s Lutheran Church near Times Square in New York City for ten years.

As an active member of the New York City Chapter of the American Guild of Organists, Lawson served as registrar, webmaster, and editor of the chapter’s concert calendar, but his towering achievement was the New York City Organ Project (NYCOP). Starting with his interest in gathering the histories of various pipe organs in churches he served or played in, the NYCOP grew into a seemingly limitless body of information, published online as part of the website of the New York City AGO Chapter. Thousands of organs are diligently documented with histories, specifications, and photographs. (For example, see the documentation of organs at the Church of the Heavenly Rest: www.nycago.org/organs/nyc/html/HeavenlyRest.html.) Friends and colleagues have joked that no one knew the organs of New York City as well as Lawson, given the countless hours he traveled around the city carrying heavy photographic equipment.

Lawson’s passion for collecting and making available this type of information drew him to the Organ Historical Society’s Pipe Organ Database, where he continued his vast contribution to the art of the organ, expanding his boundaries from New York City to include the entire United States. He worked closely with the OHS Database Committee, contributing and updating countless entries of organs, and behind the scenes with the development of a new, more user-friendly version of the database.

Steven E. Lawson is survived by his parents, George W. Lawson and Doris E. Lawson, and his cousin Linda Driskel.

­—John Bishop

Frank G. Rippl, 71, died August 11, in Appleton, Wisconsin. Born in Neenah, Wisconsin, Rippl earned the Bachelor of Music Education degree from Lawrence University Conservatory of Music, Appleton, where he minored in organ, studying with Miriam Clapp Duncan. He received a Master of Music degree in Orff-Schulwerk from the University of Denver. Rippl also studied at the Cleveland Institute of Music, as well as the Royal School of Church Music in England.

In 1979 he co-founded the Appleton Boychoir, for which he conducted and played organ for 26 years until his retirement from the organization in 2010. He initiated the Boychoir’s popular Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols held each Christmas in Memorial Chapel, Lawrence University. During Rippl’s tenure, the choir performed as choir-in-residence at the Green Lake Festival of Music under Sir David Willcocks and toured nationally and internationally.

Rippl taught elementary vocal music in the Appleton Area School District for 33 years. Upon retirement from school teaching, he pursued additional organ study with Wolfgang Rübsam. In 1996 he founded the Lunchtime Organ Recital Series held each summer in the Appleton area, attracting organists from all over the country.

Rippl began playing the organ at St. Mary Catholic Church, Menasha, later at Saint Bernard Catholic Church, also of Menasha. He was organist and choirmaster of All Saints Episcopal Church, Appleton, for over 46 years (1971–2018), retiring January 7. At his retirement, the parish established a choral scholarship for Lawrence University students to sing in the church’s choir. (For information on Frank Rippl’s retirement celebration, see the April 2018 issue, page 8.)

Rippl served as dean of the Northeastern Wisconsin Chapter of the American Guild of Organists, was active in the Organ Historical Society (OHS) and the Packerland Theatre Organ Society, and performed on Minnesota Public Radio’s Pipedreams. He penned numerous OHS convention reviews for The Diapason. He accompanied silent movies on the organ for over 20 years for the American Theatre Organ Society. He loved teaching and the pipe organ, and combined these two passions by giving organ lessons to many students.

In 2007, Rippl received the Rotary Club Paul Harris Service Award for service to the community; he played for the Appleton chapter’s weekly meetings for many years. While a student at Lawrence he was Vince Lombardi’s favorite pianist at Alex’s Crown Restaurant, as cited in David Moraniss’s When Pride Still Mattered. In 2014 he became director for the new Memory Project choir, “On a Positive Note,” for those suffering from memory loss and their families.

Frank Rippl is survived by his wife of 43 years, Carol Jegen, his brothers Bill Rippl, Rick (Marie) Rippl, and Dan (Becky) Rippl, as well as numerous extended family members. His funeral was held August 21 at All Saints Episcopal Church, Appleton. Memorial donations may be directed to All Saints’ Episcopal Church, Appleton, the Appleton Boychoir, or his family for an organ scholarship.

James Ralph Verdin, of Indian Hill, Ohio, died August 8. He was born July 30, 1936, in Cincinnati. He grew up in Mariemont and graduated from Mariemont High School in 1955. After graduation, Verdin served in the United States Army.

Verdin was president and chief executive officer of the Verdin Company of Cincinnati, a family-owned business since 1842 that installs bells, tower and street clocks, electronic carillons, and organs across the United States and abroad. Notable installations include the World Peace Bell, the Ohio Bicentennial Bell Project, and the Verdin Mobile Bell Foundry.

Verdin’s vision to redevelop and transform the Pendleton Neighborhood in Over the Rhine, Cincinnati, led to the founding of the Pendleton Art Center, Pendleton Square Complex, the old Car Barn (Nicola’s Restorante), and the restoration of St. Paul’s Church. The church became the corporate offices of the Verdin Company and is now the Bell Event Centre.

A funeral Mass was celebrated August 16 at Old St. Mary’s Catholic Church, Cincinnati. James Ralph Verdin is survived by his wife Carole (nee Conners), daughter Jill (Sam) Crew, and grandchildren Caroline Verdin Crew and Samantha Verdin Crew. Memorials may be made to Summit Country Day School, 2161 Grandin Road, Cincinnati, Ohio 45208.

The 101-rank Kotzschmar Organ in Portland, Maine, is 100 years old, is about to undergo renovation--and Portland, Maine has ponied up $1,250,000 to care for its treasure

It was a dark and stormy night . . .¹

In the early hours of January 24, 1908, a cold westerly wind gusting to thirty miles an hour buffeted Portland, Maine. With the temperature hovering in the mid-teens, the wind chill factor was between forty-five and fifty degrees below zero. Around 2 am, two men walking up Exchange Street toward Congress Street smelled burning rubber, noticed a red glow in City Hall, and ran to the Central Fire Station.²

Ironically, the fire was caused by a short circuit in Portland’s Gamewell Fire Alarm, which was housed in the city electrician’s office in City Hall. The fire, fanned by the strong winds, spread rapidly through the building. Firefighters responded from neighboring towns, but their primitive equipment was not equal to the emergency, and by morning the grand building was a smoldering wreck encased in ice. Government records were lost and the city’s fire chief was seriously injured, but there were no fatalities and the fire was confined to the single building.³

City leaders were quick to respond. Less than six months later, Mayor Adam Leighton announced the appointment of the famed architectural firm Carrère & Hastings (designers of the New York Public Library) to design the new City Hall, which would include a large auditorium. An Australian pianist visiting Portland pointed out that many British and Australian city hall auditoriums included large pipe organs, and Mayor Leighton called on his friend, the publishing magnate Cyrus H. K. Curtis, who responded with a gift to the City of Portland for a large concert pipe organ to be installed in the new auditorium. The organ would be named for Cyrus Curtis’s namesake. Mr. Curtis set two ground rules: the organ would be built by the Austin Organ Company without any direction or interference, and the cost should not exceed $30,000.⁴

The life of  the 

Kotzschmar

The 101-rank Kotzschmar Organ is 100 years old as I write today. As the City of Portland was forced to stop funding for the organ and its programming in the late 1970s, a not-for-profit organization called Friends of the Kotzschmar Organ (FOKO) was formed in 1981. You can read about the history of the organ and of FOKO at the website www.foko.org, and you can see the organ’s stoplist at www.foko.org/stop_list.htm.  

The organ was expanded by Austin in the 1920s and physically moved across the stage by a house-moving company in the 1960s. Merrill Auditorium was reconstructed in the 1990s and the organ was removed from the hall, to be returned when the hall was ready—on a shoestring budget, through the Herculean efforts of the organ’s curator and the FOKO Board of Directors. After a century of ups and downs, it’s great to report that programming has expanded to include significant educational outreach, bringing the pipe organ to public schools in the Portland area. FOKO has even had a portable three-rank pipe organ built that travels to schools to enhance these efforts. Hundreds of great organists have played recitals on the organ, and it remains a beloved icon in the center of Maine’s largest city. If you live in one of America’s more populous states, you may imagine Portland to be larger than it is. With an art museum, symphony orchestra, municipal organ, and opera company, the city boasts an unusually rich cultural life for its population of just over 66,000 people!

Over the past five or six years, the people of FOKO have come to grips with the fact that the Kotzschmar Organ is in failing condition. It sounds great, and has been played energetically and regularly all along. But to reuse a well-worn phrase, it’s time to pay the pipers, all 6,760 of them! To shorten the long story of a complicated path, FOKO, the City of Portland, and the people who love the Kotzschmar Organ have come up with the perfect gift for the organ that has everything in celebration of its hundredth birthday—the millions of dollars necessary for a full-blown, soup-to-nuts renovation, which will take place in the workshop of Foley-Baker, Inc. of Tolland, Connecticut. The City of Portland has set a bold example for government support of artistic and cultural activities by providing a matching grant of $1.25 million toward the renovation of the organ, an amount readily matched by private gifts. 

Centennial celebrations

The new City Hall and the Kotzschmar Organ were dedicated at two o’clock on the afternoon of August 22, 1912. At two o’clock on August 22, 2012, a large gathering of pipe organ professionals and enthusiasts were gathered in a meeting room at the Holiday Inn by the Sea in Portland in a plenary session concluding a week-long Centennial Festival celebrating the Kotzschmar Organ and its role in the life of the city. Michael Barone, host of Minnesota Public Radio’s Pipedreams, was moderator. The panel included the panoply of performers assembled for the festival: Scott Foppiano, Walt Strony, Peter Richard Conte, Fred Hohman, Fred Swann, John Weaver, and Municipal Organist Ray Cornils. (Felix Hell and Tom Trenney had left the festival early because of other concert engagements.)

A couple of hours later, the Friends of the Kotzschmar Organ hosted a Gala Centennial Banquet attended by about two hundred people. And on Wednesday evening, we enjoyed the Centennial Concert played by Ray Cornils, Peter Richard Conte, and the Kotzschmar Festival Brass. You can see the festival schedule, the specifications of the organ, and learn the history of the organ and of the Friends of the Kotzschmar Organ at the website, www.foko.org.

I serve on the board of directors of the Friends of the Kotzschmar Organ, where I am chairman of the organ committee. Seems natural enough, doesn’t it, that someone serving as a volunteer on the board of a not-for-profit organization would take a role from his professional life? But there’s something very funny about it. Throughout more than 35 years working as an organbuilder, I’ve been involved in hundreds of conversations with organ committees from all sorts of institutions, but always as an organbuilder, as a contractor, never as the “customer.” Since the conversation about renovating the Kotzschmar Organ started early in 2007, I’ve been on the other side of the table. The organ committee and I prepared requests for proposals and sent them to a list of organbuilding firms, we reviewed and compared the various proposals we received, chose the contractor, and spent many hours in conference with the staff of Foley-Baker planning the project. It was an extraordinary learning experience, rounding out my understanding of the process of conception and planning of a major organ project, and I am grateful to Foley-Baker, the organ committee, and all my colleagues on the FOKO board for this very rich experience.

Wait, wait, when can we work? 

Planning the schedule of this project has been unusually delicate. Merrill Auditorium is a grand home not only for this wonderful organ, but for many other activities as well. It is home to the Portland Symphony Orchestra, the Choral Arts Society, the Portland Opera, and the Portland Ballet. (How many cities of 66,000 people can boast such a lineup?)  Each year, many high schools, colleges, and universities hold their graduation exercises there, most of them accompanied by the organ. The City of Portland uses the auditorium for meetings and conferences, and very importantly, the hall is the premier venue in the State of Maine for all sorts of cultural activities, from rock concerts to comedians, from classical musicians to this summer’s live sell-out production of National Public Radio’s ubiquitous favorite show, Wait, Wait, Don’t Tell Me! That means two things—thousands of people throng from all over the state to hear this wide variety of events, and the rental of the hall for high-profile programs is of primary importance to the operating budget of the auditorium.

The second major factor defining the delicacy of the schedule is the fact that it’s difficult to maintain an audience in a dark hall. The Friends of the Kotzschmar Organ have cultivated an enthusiastic audience for the organ, comprising many local enthusiasts and countless tourists who plan their visits to Portland to coincide with concerts at Merrill Auditorium. How to maintain the presence of the organ and nourish the audience during its approximately twenty months of absence is the question that FOKO has been grappling with since the beginning of the conversation.

The five-week period necessary for the removal of the organ must have been the largest single block of time reserved since the hall was reopened after its renovation in 1997, for which the organ had been removed from the building.

A few paragraphs ago, I mentioned that the conversation about the renovation of the organ started in 2007, just ten years after the Kotzschmar Organ was installed in Merrill Auditorium for the second time. As the auditorium had received a thorough facelift that included new theater seats, a renewed acoustical environment, and a new and larger stage equipped with all the machinery and gear necessary to support complicated theatrical productions, you can imagine that there was much fanfare about the organ’s return to the hall having been cleaned, repaired, and modified to fit the new environment. In fact, the word “restoration” had been used.  

When early in 2007, FOKO’s organ committee reported to the full board that the organ’s condition merited a thorough and very expensive overhaul, there was an eerie silence in the room. The next sound came from a board member who correctly commented, “I thought we restored the organ when the hall was rebuilt.”

In August 2007, FOKO hosted a symposium, inviting seven acknowledged pipe organ experts to visit and inspect the organ and participate in several days of both private and public conversation. Theatre organist Walt Strony, Thomas Murray, Joseph Dzeda, and Nicholas Thompson-Allen of Yale University, Peter Richard Conte and Curt Mangel of the Wanamaker Organ, and organ consultant and historian Jonathan Ambrosino were the invited guests. Craig Whitney of the New York Times, and author of All the Stops (PublicAffairs, 2003), served as scribe for the public round-table discussion. The result of the symposium was a unanimous recommendation by the participants that FOKO commission a professional survey of the organ’s condition, which would serve as the basis for a request for proposals for the renovation of the organ. Five years later, as I write today, the organ is being dismantled for its multi-million-dollar renovation.

The tricky “R’s” . . . 

From the very beginning of five years of conversations, FOKO board members have referred to this project as a renovation. In the world of the preservation of antiquities, the word restoration should be used very carefully. The word implies returning an artifact to its condition when brand new. If the Kotzschmar Organ were being restored, the five-manual console built in 2000 would be removed and the original either repurchased and restored (with its mechanical “ka-chunk” one-level combination action) or faithfully reconstructed, and the significant voices added by Austin in the 1920s (and paid for by Cyrus Curtis) would be removed. While the original organ was a glorious instrument, the various additions and modifications have improved the instrument for modern use by myriad artists.

The current project includes a faithful reproduction of the original Austin Universal Air Chest, which was significantly modified during the 1995–97 project, replacement of pipe valves and pneumatic note-motors with authentic parts supplied by the Austin Organ Company, and the addition of two new 32-foot voices. It would be inaccurate to refer to this project as a restoration. We believe that the effect, aura, and ethic of the original Austin organ will be retained and the essential character of the organ will not be changed. 

The centennial star parade

The Kotzschmar Centennial Festival was a brilliant convocation. The array of visiting artists was inspirational. It was both fun and rewarding to meet with the visiting faithful, many of whom were not professionals, but people so dedicated to the thrill of the pipe organ that traveling hundreds of miles to spend a summer week sitting in churches, conference rooms, and a concert hall is a joy. It was both thrilling and moving to see how the people of Portland came out to celebrate and support their most visible cultural icon. And in the light of all that, enriching for me to have such a broad opportunity to visit with my colleagues who have so much to offer on stage and at table.  

Felix Hell gave us a brilliant performance of Liszt’s Fantasy and Fugue on Ad nos ad salutarem undam. After the concert I caught a glimpse of John Weaver and Felix Hell embracing, the epitome of the deep experience between mentor and student. I’ve had many conversations with great teachers about the joy of working with gifted students, and that which I had with John Weaver at breakfast a couple days later was a classic about how a great performer takes what he learned from his teachers and builds on it as he matures as a performer and develops his vision of a given piece.

Thomas Heywood (www.concert
organ.com) travels the world with his wife Simone, who assists him at the console for his performances, and manages his career. Thomas has the hands and feet of a conjurer, allowing him to play fiendish passages, especially those in his own transcriptions, with abandon and most notably, joy. He bounds onto the stage as if he were winning an Oscar, then jumps on the bench and dazzles. He tested the repetition rate of the organ’s aging action with his reading of the Overture to William Tell.

Fred Swann and John Weaver shared a recital on Tuesday night, August 21. While we celebrate the brilliant young players who are bringing new life to the pipe organ, the opportunity to hear two such masters play on the same evening is to recall the majesty, dignity, and depth of musical interpretation that can only be achieved through a lifetime of practice, study, and thousands of performances. I doubt that anyone in the hall failed to recognize the significance of that collaboration.

Tom Trenney, Scott Foppiano, and Walt Strony helped us appreciate the versatility of the Kotzschmar Organ, which presents itself architecturally as a formal concert organ, but with its array of percussions like Harp, Marimba, Glockenspiel, drums, and Turkish Cymbal, can easily jump the line between the classical and the popular. Tom accompanied the silent film, Speedy, and Scott and Walt gave varied and colorful performances that showcased the widest ranges of the organ’s resources, and their creative and colorful personalities.

Fred Hohman honored the memory of one of Portland’s early municipal organists by playing transcriptions and original compositions by Edwin Lemare, whose virtuosity impressed early twentieth-century audiences, and whose creativity in understanding the capabilities of the organ console is still educating concert organists.

I’ve written before in the pages of this journal that I suspect Peter Richard Conte to be armed with universal joints in his fingers rather than the more usual “up-and-down” knuckles that hamper the rest of us. As an audience member sitting 100 feet from the console in the Grand Tier of the auditorium, I heard sweeping performances of familiar orchestral scores. As a friend who has often stood next to Peter as he plays, I know he’s capable of playing on four keyboards simultaneously while playing two independent parts on the pedalboard. You think it’s super-human and impossible until you see it up close.

Ray Cornils has served Portland as municipal organist since 1990. He, like Hermann Kotzschmar, must be the premier musician of the City of Portland and the State of Maine. His rapport with city officials, board members, and with the audience is a joy to witness, and his approach to his role, complete with sparkling costumes and a smooth croon of a voice as he addresses the audience at Merrill Auditorium, speaks of his understanding and appreciation of the role of leader of the city’s music.

Say good night, Gracie.  

During the last piece of the centennial concert, attentive audience members noticed a light turning on inside the organ, and several people sneaking across the organ behind the façade pipes. As the audience stood in ovation, Ray and Peter slid back onto the bench and launched into a fresh four-hands arrangement of Auld Lang Syne. The entire staff of Foley-Baker, Inc., some twenty strong in suits and hard hats, walked onto the stage with a huge stepladder, and started removing façade pipes as the audience sang and wept.

All this about a pipe organ? The pipe organ is the most complex of musical instruments, the most expensive, and the most difficult to care for. Organs are subject to the whims of weather, politics, and the global economy (try to solicit a leading gift from a donor whose portfolio has just crashed). For many, they are the symbol of lost ages, the ultimate icon of the dead white man. They are the timeless symbol of the church, which compels an ever-decreasing percentage of our population.

Portland, Maine has ponied up $1,250,000 to care for its treasure. Can your town, county, state, or nation be persuaded to do the same? Never, never take pipe organs for granted.

Notes

1. Edward Bulwer-Litton, Paul Clifford (opening line), published by Henry Colburn and Richard Bentley, London, 1830. It is widely quoted as an example of “Purple Prose” celebrating the worst extremes in writing:

“It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents—except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies), rattling along the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness.”

2. Behind the Pipes: The Story of the Kotzschmar Organ, Janice Parkinson-Tucker, Casco House, 2005, pp. 2–3.

3. Lima Daily News, Lima, Ohio, January 24, 1908 (http://www.gendisasters.com/data1/me/fires/portland-cityhall1908.htm)

4. Behind the Pipes, p. 14.

In the niche of time

The history of organ building and organ music is deep and rich, but the longer I toil in those vineyards, the more I realize how small it is in the wider world. The histories of art, architecture, literature, and philosophy fill libraries and geo-political history—especially the great procession of warfare that dominates every epoch of human existence, influencing the flow of the arts and academic thought. It may seem trite to acknowledge the relative insignificance of the pipe organ, but I notice that many professionals in the field focus on the interrelation of historic and geographic subdivisions of organ history, separate from the context of more general world history. 

I’ve often mentioned the juxtaposition of the fashionable Rococo courts of Western Europe, complete with minuets and powdered wigs, and the Minuteman of Lexington, Massachusetts, scrambling behind walls and fences, trying to outsmart the British Redcoats in the early days of the American Revolution. Paul Revere (1735–1818), Thomas Jefferson (1743–1826), Franz Joseph Haydn (1732–1809), and Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (1756–91) were all contemporaries. 

Most of us have all the libraries of the world at our fingertips—a few clicks or keystrokes can call up reliable information on any subject. You can do it while you’re sitting on an organ bench. Give a Google or two to consider the composer on your music rack today—what painters, philosophers, or writers might he have met? What war was coming up or going on? How might that have influenced his thinking? Or did he scram when things got rough so he could work in peace?

Ancient roots

The history of the pipe organ spans more than 2,250 years, starting with the hydraulis created by Ctesibius of Alexandria, Egypt, in about 256 BC. Sounds mighty old, but the hydraulis didn’t come out of thin air. Panpipes are still familiar to us today and predated the hydraulis by many centuries. With a dozen or more of individual flutes lashed together, the panpipe is a sort of pipe organ, minus the mechanical valve systems and the User Interface (keyboards) of “modern organs” built after 1250 AD. You can hear live performances on panpipes (for a modest donation) most days in New York’s Times Square Metro Station.

The Chinese sheng is a little like an ocarina with vertical pipes—an obvious precursor to the organ. It’s easy to find photos online. It is a common mainstay of Chinese classical music, with ancient roots. Archeologists working in the Hubei Province in 1978 unearthed a 2,400-year-old royal tomb that contained a sheng.

Most of us learned about the supposed oldest playable organ from E. Power Biggs, who featured the organ in the Basilica of Notre Dame in Valère, Sion, Switzerland, in his 1967 recording, Historic Organs of Switzerland. We read on the jacket notes of that vinyl LP that the organ was built in 1390, more than a century before Christopher Columbus ostensibly discovered the New World. It’s now generally thought to have been built in 1435, 17 years before the birth of Leonardo da Vinci. Filippo Brunelleschi (1377–1446) was active in Florence at that time—the dome of the cathedral there for which Brunelleschi is perhaps best known was constructed right at the time of his death. Cosimo de’ Medici, the great patriarch of the fabled Florentine banking family, inherited his fortune in 1429. Nicolaus Copernicus, the astronomer who told us that the sun is the center of the universe, wasn’t born until 1473.¹ It’s fun to note that Cosimo, Brunelleschi, and the builder of the organ at Sion lived in a world where it was believed that Earth was the center of the universe.² As a sailor, I wonder how Christopher Columbus navigated?

Jan Pieterszoon Sweelinck (1562–1621)

Sweelinck was born and died in Amsterdam. He assumed the position of organist at that city’s Oude Kerk in 1577 at the age of fifteen and worked there the rest of his life. His employment was unusual for his day in that playing the organ was his sole responsibility. That left him with plenty of time to teach, and his studio included such luminaries as Praetorius, Scheidemann, and Samuel Scheidt. So while he was born in the last years of the broadly defined Renaissance, his music and teaching formed a bridge between, let’s say, Palestrina and Buxtehude—a mighty tall order.³

One of Sweelinck’s greatest hits is Balletto del Granduca, a set of variations on a simple theme. On my desk right now is the “sheet music” edition I bought as a teenager ($1.00), Associated Music Publishers, edited by E. Power Biggs. (Wasn’t he a great educator?)

Painters Rubens and Caravaggio were Sweelinck’s contemporaries, and St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome was completed a few years after his death. Heliocentrism (the Sun as the center of the universe) was confirmed by astronomer Johannes Kepler in his publication Mysterium Cosmographicum in 1596. The Edict of Nantes was signed by King Henry IV of France in 1598, recognizing the basic rights of Protestants (Huguenots) in predominantly Roman Catholic France, including the right to freely practice their religion. Henry IV was murdered in 1610 by the radical Catholic François Ravaillac, and succeeded by his son, Louis XIII. Coincidentally, the King James Bible was published in 1611.

Sweelinck was a Calvinist, a doctrine governed by the regulative principle, which limited worship to the teachings of the New Testament. Calvin notwithstanding, Sweelinck’s creativity was encouraged by the Consistory of Dordrecht of 1598, in which organists were instructed to play variations on Genevan Psalm tunes in an effort to help the people learn them.

On closer shores, British refugees established the Colony of Virginia in 1607, French refugees established the city of Quebec in 1608, and Dutch refugees founded New York in 1612. The first African slaves arrived in Virginia in 1619, two years before Sweelinck’s death.

Given that much of the migration of Europeans toward the “New World” was inspired by religious persecution, we read that Sweelinck lived in an era of dramatic international religious tension and change. It’s not much of a stretch to compare those tensions around the year 1600 with today’s religious persecution, division, and fundamentalism.

(I’ll let you do Bach!)

Felix Mendelssohn (1809–47)

Beethoven (1770–1827) was 29 when Mendelssohn was born, and Mendelssohn was 24 when Brahms (1833–97) was born.⁴ Felix Mendelssohn was as precocious as musicians get. He wrote 12 string symphonies between the ages of 12 and 14. His three piano quartets were written between 1822 and 1825 (you do the math!)—these were his first published works. I’ve long counted his overture to A Midsummer Night’s Dream among my favorite pieces. Its brilliant passagework, soaring melodies, sumptuous orchestration, and driving rhythms are a tour de force for modern orchestras and ferociously challenging to organists playing it in transcription. If you didn’t know better, you’d think it was a mature work, but it’s the product of a 17 year old. What were you doing when you were 17?

The 1820s was a decade of violent uprisings all over Europe. Italians revolted against King Ferdinand of the Two Sicilies, resulting in the formation of a constitutional monarchy. A colonel in the Spanish army assembled a mutiny against King Ferdinand VII, who capitulated to their demands for a liberal constitution. France answered Ferdinand’s plea for assistance by sending 100,000 soldiers, quelling the uprising, and restoring the absolute monarchy. There were revolutions in Portugal and Brazil, and in a brutal revolutionary war, Greece won independence from the Ottoman Empire. The death of Napoléon Bonaparte in 1821 coincided with Mendelssohn’s prolific adolescence. In the United States in 1825, John Quincy Adams was president, the Erie Canal was opened, and Eli Whitney, inventor of the cotton gin, passed away.

One of Mendelssohn’s greatest hits is his Violin Concerto, completed and premiered in 1845, four years before his death. The year 1845 was a busy one around the world. Edgar Allan Poe published The Raven, Baylor University and the United States Naval Academy were founded, James Polk succeeded John Tyler as President of the United States, and the potato blight began in Ireland. In 1845, Frederick Douglass published his autobiography, Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass, an American Slave, an earth-shaking work that represented several giant steps in the march toward the American Civil War.

There were many “firsts” that year: a “screw-powered” steamship crossed the Atlantic, anesthesia was used to ease childbirth, the New York Herald mentioned baseball, and the rubber band was invented in Great Britain. It has never occurred to me to associate Felix Mendelssohn with baseball, anesthesia, or rubber bands. Do you suppose Mendelssohn ever rolled up a manuscript with a rubber band?

Charles-Marie Widor (1844–1937)

Widor is probably forever to be remembered by legions of organists and brides for one piece of music. But seventy-five measures of sixteenth notes in 4/2 time, followed by three of big whole-note chords in F major is a pittance when compared to the rest of his massive output of music. He wrote tons of orchestral music including symphonies, works for orchestra with organ, piano, violin, cello, harp, chorus, and various huge combinations. There are six duos for piano and harmonium, a piano quartet, a piano quintet, and sonatas for violin, cello, oboe, and clarinet. There are reams of piano music, songs, and choral music, even music for the stage. But all we really know are ten organ symphonies along with a half-dozen incidental pieces for organ. And most of us only play one of his pieces. Oh yes, there’s also a doozy in G minor, but it’s a lot harder.

Widor was one of the most important teachers of his generation, succeeding César Franck as professor of organ at the Paris Conservatoire in 1890, later leaving that post to become professor of composition. His students included Marcel Dupré, Louis Vierne, Charles Tournemire, Darius Milhaud, and Albert Schweitzer.

Widor studied in Brussels with Jacques-Nicolas Lemmens (lots of us play Lemmens’s Fanfare). When he finished those studies in 1868 at the age of 24, he moved to Paris where he was appointed assistant to Camille Saint-Säens at Église de la Madeleine. And in 1870, he was appointed “provisional” organist at Ste-Sulpice, the most prestigious post in France and home to the fantastic Cavaillé-Coll organ that is revered, cherished, and studied by generations of organists and organbuilders around the world. His primary advocate for that envied position was Aristide Cavaillé-Coll himself, who had been disappointed by the flippancy of the music of Louis James Alfred Lefébure-Wély (1817–69), the previous organist who had presided over the first years of Cavaillé-Coll’s masterpiece. It’s rumored that Cavaillé-Coll’s agitation contributed to Lefébure-Wély’s early death. (You gotta watch out for those organbuilders!)

Daniel Roth, the current organist at Ste-Sulpice,⁵ visited New York City to play a recital at Church of the Resurrection, where I, with the Organ Clearing House, had installed a renovated and relocated 1916 Casavant organ. It was an exciting moment for us to have such a master player perform on “our” instrument, but one of the most interesting moments came not at the organ console, but walking the sidewalks of Park Avenue, when Monsieur Roth told me some of the back story surrounding Widor’s appointment in 1870.

That’s the year that the Franco-Prussian War broke out. Chancellor Otto von Bismarck had used brilliant and nefarious schemes to provoke a French attack on Prussia. The French Parliament declared war on the German Kingdom of Prussia on July 16, 1870, the Germans were armed and in position, and quickly invaded northeastern France. Paris fell to Prussian forces in January of 1871. In May of 1871, the Treaty of Frankfurt gave Germany what is now Alsace-Lorraine, and the balance of power in Europe was upset. France was determined to reclaim lost territory, Britain was nervous about the change of balance in power, and the seeds were sown for World War I.

In that harsh political climate, patriotic (and perhaps, bigoted) Frenchmen considered Belgium as German,⁶ and Widor’s detractors whispered in the ears of the priests that Widor “plays like a German.” Cavaillé-Coll prevailed, and Widor was appointed. But his appointment was never made formal. He served Ste-Sulpice as provisional organist for 64 years. Widor’s student Marcel Dupré succeeded him, and served until 1971—more than a hundred years after Widor’s appointment.⁷

Claude Monet (1840–1926) completed some of his early works while living in Paris between 1865 and 1870, when Camille Doncieux was his model for The Woman in the Green Dress, Woman in the Garden, and On the Bank of the Seine. Camille gave birth to their son in 1867, and they were married on June 28, 1870, less than three weeks before the start of the Franco-Prussian War. As the war started, Monet fled to England with his new wife and child, where he studied the work of John Constable and J. M. W. Turner. How’s that for war influencing the arts?

Édouard Manet, James Whistler, Edgar Degas, and Auguste Renoir were contemporaries of Widor. Monet, Manet, Degas, and Renoir were all active in Paris when Widor was organist at Ste-Sulpice. I wonder if they met? What would they have talked about?

And that organ?

The Cavaillé-Coll organ at Ste-Sulpice was built in 1862, incorporating some pipes from the previous (1781) Clicquot organ. With five manuals and a hundred stops, it was one of the largest organs in the world. (An additional voice was added when Widor retired.) It included pneumatic actions to assist the vast mechanical systems, a complex wind system with multiple wind pressures (all in the days of hand-pumping), a state-of-the-art whiz-bang console with arrays of mechanical registration devices, and a huge palette of tonal innovations. 

Europe had not cornered the market on war in those days. The American Civil War was in full swing when Cavaillé-Coll completed that organ. In 1862, Jefferson Davis was inaugurated as President of the Confederate States of America, Abraham Lincoln issued the Emancipation Proclamation, and Julia Ward Howe’s Battle Hymn of the Republic was published in the Atlantic Monthly. Henry David Thoreau died on May 6, 1862. Do you suppose Widor ever read Thoreau’s Resistance to Civil Government, Slavery in Massachusetts, or Walden? And who will be the first to include Battle Hymn of the Republic on their recording at Ste-Sulpice?

§

Maybe Felix Mendelssohn was aware of Eli Whitney’s cotton gin, but it would be a reach to trace how that machine influenced Mendelssohn’s music (though there are dissertations out there that seem just as obscure). Widor had to have noticed the Prussian occupation of Paris as he was starting his epic tenure at Ste-Sulpice. He must have had terrifying walks to church past Prussian soldiers brandishing weapons. Such a sight would have influenced my improvisations. And suppose he had happened to meet Degas or Renoir at a reception. Would he have gone to the studio for coffee the next day and discussed the confluence of pictorial art and music?

In its collective history, the organ is an exquisite example of the highest of human achievements. It combines an array of crafts, it functions thanks to scientific principles, and it evokes the full range of human emotions. But it’s not a be-all or end-all. Its place in our society is the result of complex evolution, and given the complexity of today’s world and the state of today’s church, we’re passing through a time that has been less than a Golden Age.

But the range of the instrument, the breadth of its history, and the sheer power of its voice continue to keep it in the forefront. However obscure and arcane, its nearly unique status as a vehicle for improvisation equips it perfectly as an instrument of the future. What will future generations deduce from today’s organ music when they look back and consider the wide world in which we live today?

And here’s a hint: your recital audience loves to hear this stuff. Of course we’re interested in the intricacies of sonata form, or the structure of a fugue (“listen for the entrances”), but the people might get more out of connecting your organ world with their history world, their literature world, their art world. It took me about seven hours to write this piece, including the deep research. It’s not a big effort, and it adds a lot. The buzz phrase in the real estate world is “location, location, location.” How about “relevance, relevance, relevance?” ν

Notes

1. A general note: In this essay, I’m tossing about lots of supposedly specific facts. As usual, I’m sitting at my desk with nothing but a laptop, and I’m gathering data from quick Google searches. Much of the data comes from Wikipedia, which we suppose is generally accurate, but cannot be relied on as absolute. I am, therefore, not citing each specific reference, and offer the caveat that any factual errors are unintentional. They are offered to provide general historical context, and discrepancies of a year or two are inconsequential for this purpose.

2. There may well be some hangers-on who still believe that the sun revolves around the earth!

3. Similarly, Haydn was eighteen years old when J. S. Bach died, just as the Baroque era was ending. 

4. I like telling people that my great-grandmother, Ruth Cheney, was seven years old when Brahms died, and my sons were present at her funeral in 1994. On her hundredth birthday she increased from one cigarette a day to two! I treasure her piano, an 1872 rosewood Steinway, passed through our family to me as the only musician in my generation.

5. Daniel Roth has just been named International Performer of the Year by the New York City AGO chapter.

6. Today, Belgium has three official languages: French, German, and Dutch.

7. It’s poignant to remember that in his memoir, Dupré wrote of the agonies of World War II. He and his wife stayed at their home in Meudon during the Nazi occupation. German officers visited their home, planning to install guns on the roof, which commanded a view of Paris. Somehow the presence of the big pipe organ in the Salle d’orgue helped them decide not to. Later, their home was badly damaged by a German bomb. For the first two weeks of the German occupation, with no other transportation available, the Duprés (then in their fifties) walked the several miles to Ste-Sulpice.

Joyce Johnson Robinson is editorial director of The Diapason.

While the Sistine Chapel—la Cappella Sistina (which takes its name from Pope Sixtus IV, who reorganized it in 1471)—is a must-see for many who travel to Rome, it is unlikely they will hear music performed there, as any services and concerts in the chapel are usually not open to the public. The Sistine Chapel Choir is the pope’s personal choir, singing at all the liturgical celebrations of the Supreme Pontiff—in the Sistine Chapel itself, at St. Peter’s Basilica, and at outdoor services. 

During a 2014 visit to Rome, I was able to meet with the titular organist of the Sistine Chapel, Juan Paradell-Solé. A native of Spain, he received his early training in Igualada, near Barcelona, with Father Albert Foix, and studied organ with Montserrat Torrent at the conservatory of music in Barcelona.

In 1973 Paradell-Solé moved to Rome for study in organ and composition with Monsignor Valentí Miserachs. He subsequently studied in Germany for three years with Günther Kaunzinger. He served as organist at Rome’s Basilica of St. Mary Major (Santa Maria Maggiore)for 30 years, and assumed the position as organist of the Sistine Chapel in 2011. 

Joyce Johnson Robinson: At what age did you begin studying music?

Juan Paradell-Solé: I was eight years old.

Do you come from a musical family?

Yes. My maternal grandfather was a musician—including in church, because at that time one did a bit of everything. He had a band, played piano, and they made appearances in nearby towns, but he also always played in church.

What about your parents?

My parents, no. I attended a school run by the Scolopi Fathers and one of the priests there, Father Albert Foix, was a musician, and had formed a Pueri Cantores choir. He visited classes and looked for children who wanted to sing . . . And this priest was very good with Gregorian chant. He was quite serious and even though he was dealing with children, he taught music using solfège. I had learned piano and around the age of nine or so I began to accompany the Pueri Cantores on the harmonium, during sung Masses, getting accustomed to sacred music. Thus thanks to my first maestro I was already, as a child, learning Gregorian chant and sacred polyphony.

How is that you came to be in Rome?

After some study with Father Albert Foix, I enrolled at the conservatory in my city, Igualada, which is near Barcelona, for study of solfège and piano. In the late 1960s, a priest musician from a nearby city, who had studied in Rome, started coming during the summer. This was Maestro Monsignor Valentì Miserachs; he played organ in the basilica and gave concerts. So I met him, and he prepared me for the entrance exam for the Barcelona Conservatory, and to study with Montserrat Torrent. In the early 1970s Miserachs became maestro di cappella at the papal basilica of St. Mary Major in Rome. Thus I asked him if I could come to Rome to study with him, and there I was on my way to the Eternal City.

What are some of your early memories of learning the organ?

Lessons with Montserrat Torrent took place in the Palau Nacional, in which there was a large Walcker organ, enormous, five manuals, and I began to take lessons on that organ. It had over 100 registers—mamma mia! (laughs) It seemed to me as though I were in the cockpit of an airplane—it almost scared me! This huge machine, these keyboards—it was a very beautiful instrument, mechanical action; its original keyboard was from the 18th century.

At that time, the organ world in Spain almost didn’t exist. There was only Montserrat Torrent, who held courses and gave concerts . . . while here in Rome at that time there were these big names, such as Fernando Germani and Ferruccio Vignanelli.

What music did you study with Montserrat Torrent?

Always music of every period—certainly not only Spanish music. She began with easy Bach pieces, Baroque works, pre-Bach composers such as Böhm, then little by little moved on to French Classic works, and gradually later French works. Montserrat is an organist who plays everything—much early Spanish music, but also Bach, Duruflé, Reubke, Reger. She is “360 degrees,” playing all the repertoire. Today there are organists who play only early music. Montserrat is still active, even in her eighties. In 2013 she played a challenging program in Rome, including even Alain and Duruflé.

You also studied in Germany.

I spent three years in Germany, studying with Günther Kaunzinger.

Can you describe the organ world in Spain after the civil war?

In Spain, gradually things changed after Franco—new organs began to be built. In Spain, during the civil war, many historic organs were destroyed. But some organs were saved—all the organs in the south of Spain, and in the Basque regions, in special cases, some were saved. For example, let me tell you about an eighteenth-century organ in Igualada, my native city.

Someone saw children in the town square who were playing with very small pipes from an organ that was being taken apart. So he called the city’s music teacher: “Maestro, someone wants to destroy the organ—come right away.” And the maestro asked what the person was doing, and was told, “This organ is of no use anymore.” The maestro answered, “What are you doing? This is a musical instrument. It’s not just used in the church; it can also be used for dancing, for tangos . . . ” And he succeeded in convincing him. So they dismantled the organ and stored it in a convent school during the civil war; thanks to this it was saved.

But many others were in ruins, included a beautiful, large Cavaillé-Coll in a cathedral in Catalonia. Starting in the 1980s many organs began to be rebuilt, concert halls constructed, and many organ students, like me, went abroad to study. So now in Spain there are many fine organists, new instruments, and the organ world in Spain has changed a great deal.

You have concertized throughout Europe, South and North America, and even in Syria!

Yes, Syria—in Damascus. There was an organ in the Franciscan church there; I think it was the only organ in Damascus. The concert had been organized through the Cervantes Institute—the institute for Spanish culture. It was very interesting: a concert of Spanish music and poetry, with a Spanish actress. Last year we recorded a CD on that organ, also Spanish poetry and music. This CD, Aquesta divina unión, will be released in late September 2015.

What sort of concert repertoire do you favor?

I perform much Spanish music, to help make it known—although not too much early music, because early Spanish music is familiar. There is a large repertoire from the late nineteenth–early twentieth century up to now, written by composers from the Basque countries.

Do you mean the Euskarien region?

Exactly. The Euskarien region is not very big but has a large collection of Romantic-Symphonic organs that’s unique in the world—many by Cavaillé-Coll, Merklin, Mutin, Stoltz Frères, Puget, and Walcker. And these instruments haven’t been touched—they have not been changed, they are as they were.They’ve been maintained but nothing has been changed. So musicians from the late nineteenth century onwards grew up with these instruments, and many wrote for the organ. It’s a large body of Spanish symphonic literature that is very little known.

You’ve recorded some of this repertoire.

I enjoyed making this CD (Orgues en Duos, by Daniel Pandolfo et Juan Paradell-Solé on the Merklin and Koenig organs, Pamina SPM 1520 393 CD) because some of these pieces are very interesting—for example, Usandizaga, and Jesus Guridi, for instance. It was recorded in Alsace on a Merklin organ. And Daniel Pandolfo (who’s French, though of Italian ancestry) and I recorded some duets, utilizing a second, choir organ.

You’ve also done a lot of concertizing.

However, I am at heart a liturgical organist—I have been a liturgical organist for all my life. For me the church is important. The liturgical organist can seem to some people perhaps of less value, but that’s not true. The liturgical organist must have many more competencies, really a 360-degree skill set: know how to immediately accompany Gregorian chant, accompany a choir, transpose, must know how to improvise. A concert organist studies pieces; if he learns them well, he moves on to the next ones. Of course, a liturgical organist also plays the great literature, but must have an even broader skill set. I remember when I was twenty, I went to St. Peter’s to hear Vespers, and sometimes also the morning Mass, sung by the Cappella Giulia choir. The director, Maestro Armando Renzi, who was very famous in Italy, said to me, “If you don’t know how to do these things you’ll never be a good organist, because beyond playing concerts, an organist must be able to do these things.” And it’s true.

What is a typical week like for you? 

Most of my weeks are quite similar. Fortunately, my schedule allows for at least a half day of practice at the organ. I begin in the morning as soon as possible, with a bit of piano technique and then I continue on organ. The afternoon is normally dedicated to study and private lessons. Tuesdays and Wednesdays are my days at the conservatory [Conservatorio Licinio Refice, Frosinone], where I teach organ, Gregorian chant, modes, and basso continuo.

Normally during the week I don’t have rehearsals with the Sistine Chapel choir. The choir rehearses every day, but reheases with the organ only for something particular, such as a piece in a concertato style with the organ. Otherwise we rehearse together a day or two before an important celebration.

During the weekend there are often celebratory liturgies in the Vatican. Then I am involved both for the Mass that the Pope says on some Sundays, as well as for important feastdays that can occur during the week.

How is your position at the Sistine Chapel different from that at St, Mary Major?

My work as an organist for the choir of the Sistine Chapel—the pope’s choir—is not much different from that at St. Mary Major: namely, that of a liturgical organist. At St. Mary Major, there was a short rehearsal before every Mass. After an improvisation on the Introit, I accompanied the various types of song and also played during and after the motet. I also played the offertory and a final piece from the literature at the end of Mass. And the papal celebration is not very different. Whether a Mass or a Vespers, it is similar, only in St. Peter’s there is much more time for playing the organ, above all before and at the end of the Mass or Vespers—since the basilica is so large, one needs to play until almost all of the assembly has exited the basilica. But it’s essentially the same.

How much of your work is accompanying the Sistine Chapel Choir, versus playing repertoire (for example, during postludes)?

Papal celebrations, with the Sistine Chapel Choir, certainly involve much accompanying of the choir, especially during Mass, meaning all the parts of the Ordinary or the Propers of the Mass, or the various parts of Vespers. But there is also much opportunity for being able to play organ literature, repertoire­­—above all before Mass. Often I must play even for 30 to 45 minutes before the Mass, or the arrival of the Holy Father, or at the end of a Mass or Vespers, accompanying the papal procession and while the entire assembly leaves. So there is a lot of time in which to play plenty of literature. 

During the Mass, often the Offertory is sung first, before the choir sings a motet. But often the organ must continue improvising, in the same style of the motet that was sung. There are other moments when there is a lot of time for the organ—for example, in the baptismal liturgy, during the ordination of a priest, in a penitential service—where the organ must play quietly. And those are times when the organist must play for 45 minutes, or even an hour.

In accompanying chant and Psalms, do you use written-out accompaniments, or do you always improvise?

For Gregorian chant, normally I improvise the accompaniments. I’ve spent many years studying the accompaniment of Gregorian chant, and I also teach this in the conservatory. I like to improvise chant accompaniment, so that it is not always the same. Sometimes I use accompaniments that I wrote, which were published in various musical journals. For psalmody, normally the psalm is composed by the Sistine Chapel choirmaster—at present, Maestro Palombella—and he also writes the accompaniment. But this doesn’t mean that I cannot change accompaniments during the verses and create my own on occasion.

What is involved when you must play for a Mass outdoors in Piazza San Pietro (St. Peter’s Square?)

During Masses that are said outdoors in St. Peter’s Square—from Palm Sunday through the summer—the situation varies greatly, and for the choir there is the difficulty of singing outdoors. Another difficulty is the loudspeakers that transmit sound through the piazza, and that transmit for radio and television. 

Regarding the organ, a movable radio-controlled console is used, which controls the organ in the basilica. I must say that the sound of the organ is very good; even though the organ is inside the basilica, the organist can hear it immediately. Logically this requires speakers; this system, however, has had some problems lately. Until a better solution is found—and this is just a temporary solution—when we are in St. Peter’s Square, I play an electronic organ. Another problem, when we are all outside in the piazza, is that of weather. Sometimes we are out in the rain, other times with strong sun in our eyes; there is wind (many times the wind has blown my score away!). I have had to take shelter and improvise. So to work around these problems—weather as well as the difficulty for the choir of singing outdoors—in the last couple years the choir has been standing in the atrium of the basilica, covered, so this is much more comfortable. The choir and organ can mutually be heard well, and we can coordinate everything much better, almost as if we were within St. Peter’s Basilica. 

Who plans the music for Masses?

The music for papal celebrations is chosen by the office of papal celebrations, headed by Monsignor Guido Marini, together with the director of the Cappella Musicale Ponteficio Sistina, Maestro Don Massimo Palombella, of course under the guidance and approval of the Holy Father. It’s not unusual on occasion for the pope himself to choose particular music that he would like to have performed. For example, for Mass last Christmas, Pope Francis himself personally asked that the “Et incarnatus est “ from Mozart’s Mass in C Minor, be sung during the Credo—and certainly it was. Thus, the staff together with others decide on the music for each occasion.

As for the music that the organist must perform, I must say that no one forced me to play anything—they allow the organist to choose, based on his good sense and liturgical understanding. Of course, the organist must always know how to choose, from the liturgical point of view, which works from the literature are most suitable; certainly the Christmas season is not the same as Lent, or Easter, or a penance service. So the organist chooses from the repertoire.

You have played for historic events, such as the ceremony starting the conclave that elected the new Pope, and for Pope Francis’s first Mass.

[When the conclave began] I went to the gathering of the cardinals in the Sala Nervi . . . The Office of Terce was sung at the beginning. I went every morning to play; each day cardinals from all over the world were arriving. Then there was the ceremony to open the conclave. Before the conclave began, there were other people inside the Sistine Chapel, and all the cardinals must swear an oath. I had to play during the swearing-in, and then once the master of ceremonies declared “Extra Omnes” (“everybody out”), I had to quickly grab my scores and run out. I was the last to exit the Sistine Chapel.

After the election of the new pope, the next day there was his first Mass in the Sistine Chapel, for the cardinals only, and then there was the first Mass, in St. Peter’s Square, for the whole world. 

Deutsche Gramophon has recorded some of this (Habemus Papam, includes the Mass for the election of the Roman Pontiff, Entrance into the Conclave, Mass with the Cardinal electors, and Mass for the beginning of the Petrine Ministry; DG B0022404-02).

Yes. It was recorded live and includes music from the conclave, the Mass in the Sistine Chapel with the cardinals, the Mass in St. Peter’s, and the Mass for all the world. I presented a copy to the pope.

What are your future plans and goals?

Goals: I hope to continue to play for papal celebrations for many years!

As for projects, in summer 2015 I have many concerts throughout Europe (Spain, France, Austria, Germany, Denmark, Italy), and on August 28, I play in St. James Catholic Cathedral in Orlando, Florida. In 2016 there will be much to do at the Vatican, marking the Holy Year, the Jubilee of Mercy, with celebrations, concerts, and other events. Then in summer 2016 there will be many concerts—in Japan and South America—and recording a new CD.

Thank you very much, Maestro Paradell-Solé—grazie mille! ν