The Rise and Fall of a Famous Collaboration: Marcel Dupré and Jeanne Demessieux

Part ONE of Two

Lynn Cavanagh

Lynn Cavanagh holds a M.M. in Church Music from Westminster Choir College and a Ph.D. in Music Theory from the University of British Columbia. She is an assistant professor in the Department of Music, University of Regina, where she teaches music theory. Her research on the career and musical compositions of Jeanne Demessieux has been funded by the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada.

Mention the name of the French organist-composer JeanneDemessieux (1921-68) and someone will broach a tantalizing question from the history of the Paris organ world: why in 1946 did Marcel Dupré bring to a sudden end both his five-year-long artistic collaboration with Jeanne Demessieux and the close friendship he and his wife shared with the Demessieux family? No one knows, but recently rediscovered primary sources shed light on the matter.

The basic scenario was unusual. In the wake of her ParisConservatory first prize in organ in 1941, Demessieux underwent an intensivepostgraduate program of organ study with Dupré. Under his supervisionshe acquired an enormous repertoire and prodigious improvisation skills.Meanwhile, she was Marcel Duprés collaborator in seeking newfrontiers for pedal technique and new directions in composition for the organ.Demessieux's long-overdue public debut, a February 1946 recital of worksby Bach, Franck, Dupré and herself, created a sensation. That spring,Demessieux performed the remainder of the six-recital series that MarcelDupré and his wife, Jeanne Dupré, had planned for her. Theseprograms were played entirely from memory and always on a specially restoredand regulated Cavaillé-Coll organ, its console placed to evoke the sceneof a piano recital. Audience reaction suggests that her debut series bestowedrenewed glory on Duprés powers to bring organists to ever newheights of virtuosity and creativity at their instrument. Immediately afterrecital number six, near the beginning of June, the Duprés left on aNorth American recital tour, one of the aims of which was to undertake advancepublicity for another stage of the Demessieux project, her planned NorthAmerican debut. Yet, from their return to France at the end of December 1946onward, the Duprés refused ever again to speak to Jeanne Demessieux.

To the mutual friends who then entreated him, MarcelDupré withheld all word of explanation.1 Demessieux, who, according toher friends and family never completely recovered from the trauma of rejection,remained, to the end of her life, entirely at a loss to understand what causedher dearest friends to repudiate her.2

Six years after her death, in 1974, her older sister,Yolande Demessieux (1908-2000), provided material to theorganist-composer-musicologist Christiane Trieu-Colleney (1949-1993),including Jeanne Demessieux's journals and surviving correspondence, fora biography.3 As well as describing every aspect of Demessieux'sformation and career, this book undertook discussion of possible causes of theDuprés volte-face, which was a blow to Demessieux's parentsand sister, too. Having to walk a narrow path between satisfying YolandeDemessieux's desire for justice and not stating anything too embarrassingor controversial, Trieu-Colleney offered several, hypothetical, carefully phrased explanations. Most attempted, on the basis of evidence available toher, to find a bone of contention between the former collaborators, butwithout, in the end, appearing to favor one particular reason for the rift morethan any other.4

Duprés only available words on the matter arein a handwritten memo, to an unknown addressee, concerning his wish that someof his correspondence be suppressed. In translation, the entire memo reads:

Here are the reasons for which we wish that these fewletters do not appear:

1st Messiaen--the criticisms are just, but severe forhim. I like him personally very much. Please let this remain secret.

2nd Mlle Demessieux--Although during the years afterher prize I worked with her for nothing, she was unworthy of me and MadameDupré. This wound has never healed. I don't need to say more. Youcan guess.5

These words, even if they do not tell us exactly whathappened, do make it clear that something caused the Duprés to lose allrespect for their former protégée. Moreover, the final two, shortsentences suggest that Marcel Dupré expected his intended reader wouldbe able to deduce in what way Demessieux had proved to be undeserving of theircharity and respect.

Having the benefit of this statement from Dupré, thesame primary sources that were available to Trieu-Colleney--including thejournal of events and conversations Demessieux kept during the period December1940 through December 19466--and a cushion of elapsed time, I present inthis article a picture on which to base a theory of what brought about the endof the Dupré-Demessieux collaboration. Three concurrent situations willbe examined: the general state of the Paris organ world, the nature of therelationship between Marcel Dupré and other Paris organists, and thenature of the relationship between the Dupré family and JeanneDemessieux. Information on all three, as well as on Demessieux herself, emergesfrom events and conversations recorded in the latter's journal for thesix-year period cited above. In the remainder of the article, I will set thehistorical scene, outline the scenarios that emerge from the journal and, inconclusion, point to the likely cause of the abrupt end to the collaboration.

A Perspective on the Paris Organ World, circa1920-1960

 Since theheyday of the 1890s, when attendance at organ recitals in public halls in Parisand the fame of Parisian organ tribunes on a Sunday were at their height, therole of organ music in the city's musical life had gradually waned. Inthe period between the wars, it was increasingly evident that one ofFrance's greatest exports, organ playing, was continuing to lose prestigerelative to other musical genres, and doing so even in its own capital.Meanwhile, at the start of this period the organs of France were the victims of disrepair, the First World War, a decline in excellence in organ-building andmodifications to historic instruments that were sometimes ill-conceived.

After World War I, there were two contrasting viewpointsamong Paris organists as to where the future of the organ and its repertoirelay.7 One viewpoint was that of Dupré (1886-1971), a protégéof Alexandre Guilmant (1837-1911) and Charles-Marie Widor(1844-1937) and, through them, heir to the performance practice of theBelgian organist Jacques-Nicolas Lemmens (1823-81).8 Duprébelieved he had demonstrated, in his successful domestic and internationalcareers, that the way to renew and maintain the glory of the French organschool was by continuing the interdependent evolutions of organ technique,composition for the organ and organ building, and to do so in the samedirections as had led French organists to their original world acclaim. ForDupré this meant grooming organists who could rival the great pianistsin technical brilliance and interpretive charisma, and mentoring futuregenerations of composers for the organ. In his mind, revitalization of theFrench organ school called for studying the principles of thenineteenth-century organ builder Aristide Cavaillé-Coll in order thatthe best French Romantic organs could be restored according to their originaldesigns. In the design of new organs, it depended upon making up for havingrecently fallen behind British builders (Henry Willis)9 and American builders(E. M. Skinner)10 in pursuit of technology that would allow the organ tocontinue to increase its dynamic and timbral flexibility.11

On the other hand, coming up just behind Dupré werethe careers of a lineage of French organists who were personally interested inquite an opposite set of goals. Among these goals were cultivation of the vastFrench Baroque organ repertoire and the recovery of early keyboard technique.The most influential proponents of early organ music were the organistAndré Marchal (1894-1980)12 and the musicologist Norbert Dufourcq(1904-1990).13

Marchal, like Dupré, enjoyed an international concertand recording career, and was a sought-after teacher by students from NorthAmerica and other parts of Europe as well as France. Unlike Dupré, hewas not a direct descendant of the Lemmens-Widor heritage. Marchal's performance style is described by a friend of his, the British music critic Felix Aprahamian, as follows: Having rejected an untraditional Romanticapproach to Bach early in his career, his later resistance to the equally false aesthetic of metronomic intransigence and excessive staccato made him asometimes wayward but always sensitive Bach player.14 His repertoireranged from the medieval era to Messiaen, but omitted the big organ works,particularly the organ works of Liszt, and Dupré's large-scale compositions for organ.15 Unlike other famous French organists born prior to1925, he was not himself a composer.

Dufourcq, a close friend of Marchal, was, foremost, a highlyknowledgeable historian of French music and early organ building in France, anda scholarly editor of early organ music. He shone as an engaging, if alsopolemical, writer and speaker. His visibility rose further when he collaboratedwith Marchal in several famous series of lecture-recitals that occurred inParis, elsewhere in France and beyond.16 Dufourcq was one of the foundingmembers, in Paris in 1926, of the society 'Les Amis del'Orgue,'17 one of the aims of which was to encourage a new styleof organ-building.18

Marchal and Dufourcq, in collaboration with the organbuilder Victor Gonzalez (1877-1956), spearheaded the twentieth-centuryorgan reform movement in France.19 Beginning with organs the Gonzalez companybuilt from about 1930, theirs was an attempt to unite in one instrument thetonal requirements of German and French Baroque organ music, and Romantic andmodern organ music, using principles of organ design that they termednéo-classique.20 These principles were, at first, used both in therenovation of existing Baroque- and Romantic-era instruments, and in thebuilding of completely new instruments.21 Between the wars, as organs needed tobe restored or replaced, the aim to create an all-purpose instrument resultedin some controversial rebuildings of Romantic and Baroque organs alike.22 Aprominent example in Paris was the 1937 Gonzalez organ, built for the concerthall of the Palais Chaillot, which incorporated the pipework of theCavaillé-Coll organ that had existed in the former concert hall on thesame site.23

The two streams of organists in France in the first half ofthe twentieth century did not coexist peacefully. Dupré had many harshcritics from among adherents to Marchal and Dufourcq. They accused him ofmetronomic playing of an unmusical sort24 and excessively fast tempos. They didnot like his phrasing and claimed his registrations were flawed by heaviness.25When teaching, 'he showed himself to be fiercely opposed to certaininterpretations, to certain aesthetics; this attitude could not but irritatethose who were warm-blooded.26 According to Dufourcq, Duprédefended 'technologie passéiste' in organ design.27 Writingin 1971, Dufourcq summed up his critique by saying that it would not have beenlogical for everyone to follow Dupré because many others were'very interested in progress.'28

On the other hand, Marchal and his students came undercriticism from Dupré's supporters for neglecting the cultivationof virtuosity and ignoring most of the big organ works in existence. From thepoint of view of Marchal's detractors, when playing Bach, he, andorganists like him, employed inappropriate rubato and an idiosyncratic melangeof different sorts of detached articulation.29 The neoclassic organ, to thesupporters of Dupré, rendered an equal disservice to Bach, the Romanticrepertoire and modern organ composition. Moreover, the organ reform movement inFrance fostered misunderstandings of the principles of Cavaillé-Coll(e.g., it was responsible for the notion that Cavaillé-Coll aimed tovoice stops in imitation of orchestral instruments, and the notion that he madeno use of mutations and mixtures); thereby the neoclassic movement furtheredthe neglect of Cavaillé-Coll's ideals.30

The ideological differences between Paris organists resultedin acrimonious disputes on commissions to restore organs.31 Combined with thebaser human emotions, such as egotism and envy, they also caused anunconscious, and not-so-unconscious, forming of cliques of loyalty, forexample, when church positions and teaching posts came open.32 Competition inthe Paris organ world was strong and ruthless.33

Dupré's Relationships with Others in the ParisOrgan World

Demessieux's journal of 1940-46, in which shestrove to record events exactly as they occurred, and conversations as nearlyverbatim as possible, provides insights into Dupré's relationshipswith other Paris organists. From Dupré's point of view, a majorcause of enmity toward him and his goals was his colleagues' jealousy ofhis abilities and achievements. He judged that their resentment began inearnest following the display of his musical powers in his pioneering 1920series of Bach recitals. In the following words he warned Demessieux what toexpect as a result of her own debut:

. . . At your age I, too, saw that the old could bejealous of the young. (I am jealous of no one, you know.) Later I knew thejealousy of colleagues, and now, as you well know, I know the jealousy of theyoung. Not that I mind. You will see! . . .34 

He did, though, feel keenly the malice of others that heattributed to jealousy:

I have reached the age of fifty-seven without havingattained my goal, which is peace. I will have accomplished so much, and allI've gotten in return is insults, insults.35 

Having become distrustful of his colleagues, he privatelybelieved that the society Les Amis de l'Orgue had been setup expressly to oppose his viewpoints.36 On the other hand, sometimes being tootrusting of others' motives caused him grief: in the following excerptfrom Demessieux's journal, Bernard Gavoty37 tells her how one ofDupré?s friendships turned to enmity:

In the train, he [Gavoty] had a lot to say about the'great affection' that, at one time, joined Dupré andVierne, and that was ruined by 'some third persons, playing a role intheir life.' 'These two great men,' he called them, whichshocked me.

It was like a thorn in Dupré's side that in thefirst half of the twentieth century a generally negative attitude toward therecent Romantic era of music caused early- and modern-music enthusiasts aliketo disparage post-Romantic organ composition and the symphonic organ.39 As aMonsieur Provost, whom Demessieux identifies as a friend of Dufourcq and memberof 'Les Amis de l'Orgue,' made a point of saying to her oneday, 'When [Dupré's] Symphony in G minor is played, I willwhistle.'40 Dupré, for his part, was not someone to forgive thosehe regarded as his enemies. Demessieux's account of a concert byDupré, one of a series of Bach recitals in 1945, begins as follows:

Yesterday at St. Philippe [-du-Roule]. Organ was fine.Dufourcq and Marchal were there together. A splendid concert. When Duprécame down, Duf[ourcq] and M[archal] went to him. We [Dupré et al.]turned our backs on them.41 

Gavoty was telling her nothing that she did not already knowwhen he said, 'Dupré and Marchal are enemies until death.'42

In short, Dupré by 1941 was disappointed and bitter.As successful as had been his career beyond Paris, his ideas on organ building,his style of playing and his organ compositions were the butt of spitefulcomment by a faction of Paris organists and by the students of thoseorganists.43 He also suffered the disrespect of many of his Parisian composercolleagues for being the author largely of instrumental works, particularlyworks for organ, and of no works for musical theatre, the staging of which wasde rigueur for a French composer to enter the upper echelons of repute.44 True,among Paris organists he wielded a sort of power for having succeeded Gigout asprofessor of the Paris Conservatory organ class in 1926 (a position he garneredwith the strong backing of Widor). But he subsequently suffered from the lackof respect shown to him by many of his Conservatory students, the larger partof whom naturally came from other organ teachers. Demessieux recorded in herjournal:

Calmly, Dupré again spoke to me of his enemies; [JD:]'They have not let up?'

MD: 'They are worse than ever. There is anorganization against me, like there was one against Liszt, against Chopin,against Busoni. I only have 'half-students'; they are set upagainst me. In organ concerts at the [Palais de] Chaillot, only the simplest ofmy works is tolerated . . .'45

Dupré sensed himself at a dead end: by 1941, afterfifteen years as professor of the Paris Conservatory organ class, he despairedof ever finding a young musician who was both suitably gifted and interested inhis ideas about the organ. That despair gradually lifted with the appearance ofan exceptional student.

Jeanne Demessieux

Demessieux's ambition, from her childhood, was a dualcareer as composer and concert pianist.46 At the Paris Conservatory, herpianism and interpretive flair flourished under renowned performer-teachersLazare-Lévy (1882- 1964) and Magda Tagliaferro (1893- 1986),while her theory teachers, Noël Gallon (1891-1966) and Jean Gallon(1878-1959), anticipated the day that she would carry off the Prix deRome in music composition.47 After receiving first prizes in harmony (1937),piano (1938) and fugue (1939), she entered a composition classand--originally meant to be a supplementary endeavour--the organclass.48 By the example of Dupré, she was drawn more and more to theorgan, but not without a real regret that the organ lacks such a treasure ofRomantic-era music as the piano has.49 In neither background nor temperamentwas Demessieux suited to exploring early music or early keyboard technique; butas a twenty-year-old she played neglected organ works such as Liszt'sFantasia and Fugue on 'Ad nos, ad salutarem' with amazing panacheand interpretive insight.

Barriers soon rose before her. In 1941, although flushedwith the success of her unanimous first-prize showing in that year'sParis Conservatory organ competition, she was immediately afterwarddisillusioned by the intransigence of the musical establishment on thecomposition jury: its members had derided her submissions semester aftersemester. She had reason to suspect that in the 1941 Paris Conservatorycomposition competition the women competitors were deliberately 'shutout' but, taking into account the wider situation, her own case may havehad as much to do with, first, becoming known as an organist, and second, beingknown as a favorite student of that bête-noire Dupré. By thesummer of 1941, her self-esteem as a composer had plummeted, making herlong-held career plans suddenly seem less certain.

The Grand Scheme

By 1941 Dupré had observed Demessieux's musicianshipfor five years and knew that in ability, background training and musicaltemperament she was his dream student. He saw that, beyond being the mostgifted, perfectly trained and hardworking musician he had ever known, thisyoung organist was capable of picking up where he must eventually leave off inthe continuing evolutions of organ technique and writing style for theinstrument. For five more years Dupré would be convinced of this, evenwhile he repeatedly shook his head over the irony (to his way of thinking) offinding this musician in a woman.

For her part, Demessieux had no doubts that Dupré wasthe only organ teacher with whom she would ever wish to study, and that he madeno idle promise in guaranteeing her a brilliant career as a concert organist,composer and teacher. In formal discussions Dupré receivedDemessieux's guarantee that she would dedicate her entire being to thecommon aims they shared. An agreement was struck between the two families: theDemessieux family would have to be willing to commit their daughter'stime and energies to this further period of apprenticeship; Jeanne Dupréwould play as active a role in managing the formation of Demessieux'scareer as she had taken in the management of her husband's career thusfar.

The Duprés formulated and undertook their plans forlaunching Demessieux because they had confidence in her and because MarcelDupré sincerely believed that he, and not the anti-Romantic faction oforganists, had the correct idea of how to preserve and enhance the reputationof their art. Nevertheless, Dupré was human enough that, for the calumnyand misery he perceived his enemies to have caused him, he also wantedrevenge.50 This was an aim with which Demessieux, as much his wife anddaughter, had complete sympathy. The Dupré-Demessieux expectationappears to have been that ideological disputes would be settled by theproclamation of a clear winner, this in the form of an undisputed audiencefavorite. Demessieux's debut and subsequent career were meant to provecertain points: first, the preference of general audiences for listening toBach and Romantic music (as opposed to large doses of early music),particularly when played by a first-class virtuoso and on aCavaillé-Coll-style instrument; and second, the superiority ofDupré's pedagogical principles--for Demessieux was theproduct of Dupré's organ teaching and none other's. Inshort, the debut and the career of a dynamic young French organist andcomposer, who unreservedly shared Dupré's ideals, were expected toshame his critics. Dupré would be compensated for having felt ostracizedsince the 1920s and, through their parallel careers, the honored place of theorgan in western music would gradually be restored.

How had they thought to ensure these results?

--By leaving no stone unturned in Demessieux'spreparation, of course, but also by maximizing the impact of her first publicconcert appearance.

How?

--By a strategy that alternated suppression ofinformation with information leaks.

Except for church services (where the full extent of herpowers was not evident), for nearly five years following her last appearance ina Paris Conservatory organ competition, Demessieux did not play in public.Principal organist of her own parish, Saint-Esprit (1933-62), with theresponsibility of assuring the organ-playing there, she allowed Dupré toput a word in with her parish priest because he wished that she be free fromtime to time to take his place in the more prestigious tribune ofSaint-Sulpice. Here was the instrument where, near the start of the century,Widor had convinced himself that Dupré would be his principal supplyorganist and his successor.51 Generally, it worked to Dupré'spurposes that--when he was away and Demessieux could play atSaint-Sulpice--in the tribune (as well as Madame Dupré) were bothhis admirers among the church-going laity and others who were?spying? (as Dupré regarded appearances of particularadherents of the opposing faction). According to their affiliation, thesewitnesses reported back to him or to his detractors the growing marvel ofDemessieux's improvisations in traditional forms.

In other ways, Demessieux was a mystery to Paris musiciansand recital goers. Like her peers, who played debut and follow-up recitals andmade radio broadcasts during this period, she too received invitations toperform in public venues following her Paris Conservatory first prize. (Bymodern standards, there was no lack of organ recitals taking place in Franceduring the German occupation.) She received an invitation from Dufourcq to playa recital in the series he regularly organized at the Palais Chaillot(1943-44 season)52 and another from Gaston Litaize, who, suggesting aprogram made up entirely of early music, wanted her to play for a radio broadcastand a recital at the Palais Chaillot.53 Nevertheless, she refused theseproposals, not only for ideological reasons, but to withhold revelation of herabilities as a concert organist until the day conditions in Paris were idealand European borders were open again. From the nature of invitations to performat Chaillot, and from other overtures for collegiality,54 it gradually becameevident to Demessieux that an attempt was being made to attract her into the 'orbit of Dufourcq'55 and even to gain control of her debut as aconcert organist.

The Duprés' plans for her debut dependedheavily on the existence of the right organ in the right setting--aconcert hall with a Cavaillé-Coll organ in primecondition--apparently non-existent in Paris in the early 1940s. Dupréundertook to persuade the associates of the Salle Pleyel to shoulder theexpense of restoration of its Cavaillé-Coll organ and repositioning ofthe organ console. At a crucial stage in his negotiations with the Salle Pleyelassociates, it appears that friends of the Chaillot-Dufourcq faction laid atrap for Demessieux, the falling into which--if she and JeanneDupré had not had their suspicions--would have unmaskedDupré's ulterior motive--that the Salle Pleyel instrumentshould fit his and Demessieux's ideals for her debut recitalseries--thereby ruining the impact of his arguments to the Salle Pleyelassociates.56 After being alerted by his wife, Dupré scrambled to ensurethat other possible forms of interference during his meeting with the associatesof the Salle Pleyel were also averted, with the result that his hopes for theorgan were, in time, successfully realized.

The Collaboration

What kinds of contact existed between Jeanne Demessieux andthe Dupré family during this five-year period? In addition to her ownpracticing, composing, teaching, editing, and liturgical duties, once or twicea week Demessieux spent several hours at the Dupré home in the Parissuburb of Meudon, hours that were occupied by a multitude of activities. Shegradually performed for her mentor all of the major Bach and post-Bach organrepertoire, along with a sprinkling of early music favorites and select modernworks; she listened to Dupré perform. They conferred over an anthologyfor organ students and an edition of Handel's organ concertos they werejointly preparing for publication; at other times they played and discussed thetwelve organ études that Dupré wrote during 1942-1943 tochallenge Demessieux's technique.57 In the area of organ building, they surveyedDupré's knowledge of organs in different countries along with somemajor treatises on organ building; each time a new phase of his own invention,a memory system of electric combination action, was installed on the Meudonorgan, they tested its possibilities.58 Dupré and Demessieux critiquedthe recent recitals of other organists and discussed strategies forDemessieux's career. She listened to Dupré, or Dupré andhis daughter Marguerite together, play the orchestral transcriptions he wrotefor their personal enjoyment and, in turn, the Duprés listened to anddiscussed Demessieux's organ compositions. Over a period of three years,she presented on the Meudon organ, before an audience of the Demessieux andDupré families, a series of twelve semi-formal recitals; occasionally, shewas asked to play for visiting close friends and relatives of theDuprés.59 As well, Dupré and Demessieux frequently discussed theprocess of musical composition, and theology vis-à-vis musicalcomposition. A significant amount of time was spent studying the Englishlanguage under Jeanne Dupré.

Affection, Admiration and Favoritism

Amidst all these activities, Demessieux and her parents wereaccepted en famille at meals and times of relaxation.

When members of the two families did not see each other fora couple of days, they were in contact by telephone. They attended concertstogether; when the concert was in a public recital hall, Demessieux, with orwithout her parents, might be a guest of the Duprés in their speciallyappointed box. The Duprés (husband and wife) and Demessieux'sparents treated each other as among the closest of friends. The three membersof the Dupré family bestowed on Jeanne the same formal gestures ofaffection they did upon each other. In her journal, after four years of thisrelationship, 'Madame Dupré' became 'Mammy'60(as distinct from 'Maman'); Marcel Dupré, however, shealways referred to by his complete name, his surname or, when she addressed him, as 'Master.'

While Jeanne and Marguerite Dupré were lavish in their compliments of Demessieux's musicality,61 Marcel Dupré was yet more lavish, bordering on fulsomeness in his praise.62 Nevertheless, there is no basis for doubting the utter sincerity of his remarks. The likely reasonfor their extravagance is that, being from a generation that believed it biologically impossible for the finest woman?s mind to equal the finest man's mind (as he had admittedly thought), he repeatedly found it difficult to believe his eyes and ears. The tone of his compliments of her musicianship make it evident that Dupré was overwhelmed with wonder: he was amazed byhis good fortune to have a student whose musical instincts and abilities were analogous to his; as well it was highly gratifying that, because of herconfidence in him and oneness of mind with him, she was willing to follow every detail of his instructions. Dupré was equally amazed by the combination of her appearance as a slightly-built woman, her expertise as a musician and her general intelligence. The change in atmosphere he had experienced--from artistic isolation to fruitful collaboration--created, I would argue, an elation similar to that of being romantically in love. To speculate that he also loved Demessieux in a way that amounted to disloyalty toward his spouse would seem gratuitous. Suffice it to say that Jeanne Dupré's warmth of manner toward one whom she had virtually made an adopted, second daughter,63 and her oneness of mind with her husband on the importance of Demessieux's career to the Duprés' purpose in life, hardly left room for her finding fault with her husband's rationally motivated absorption in his collaboration with a colleague. The organist Pierre Labric, who was at this time an acquaintance of the Duprés and a student of Demessieux, firmly believes that the later-rumored notion that Madame Dupré became jealous of Jeanne Demessieux is highly implausible.64

 

Other articles on Jeanne Demessieux:

The Legend of Jeanne Demessieux

Jeanne Demessieux American recital tours

An interview with Pierre Labric

Jeanne Demessieux's Stabat Mater

Jeanne Demessieux

D’Arcy Trinkwon

In all his studies, D’Arcy Trinkwon has been fascinated by the person behind the musician. An early interest in the Dupré tradition inevitably led to Jeanne Demessieux, and his particular interest in her began when he first heard her recordings in the early 1980s. Over the years he has explored, researched and studied in depth all he could of her, fascinated and inspired by her legend. Inspired by her Salle Pleyel programs, in 1994 he presented eight concerts in as many weeks: “The King of Instruments” was a celebration of the great masterpieces and culminated in a complete performance of her famous Six Etudes—then the first organist to do so in recent time. He has since become particularly associated with them and her other works as a result of his numerous performances of them. He is vice-president of Les Amis de Jeanne Demessieux. D’Arcy welcomes any correspondance on the subject of Jeanne Demessieux and, time permitting, hopes to write a serious and comprehensive biography of her.

The year 2008 marks the fortieth anniversary of the death of Jeanne Demessieux, and it may therefore be interesting to reflect on various aspects of her extraordinary career. Where did this legend begin and what has been her legacy? And what of the enigmatic lady herself—of whom so many have loved to talk, yet of whom so few have ever really known much. This article deliberately reflects more on the person and the artist than would a conventional academic study, and inevitably space here cannot discuss every angle of her career. A more purely biographical article appears by this writer in Organists’ Review, November 2008.
Jeanne Demessieux died on November 11, 1968: born in Montpellier on February 13, 1921, she was only 47. One might even say that she “disappeared,” for the dazzling star of this organist had already dimmed somewhat: once the talk of organists worldwide, a legend in her own younger years, the changes of musical fashions—as well as several unexpected twists of fate—had rendered her almost something of a bygone curiosity. This is reflected in the fact that some who were studying elsewhere in Paris during the ’60s never even crossed the city to hear her play at the Madeleine.
At the time, the circumstances surrounding her passing were only discreetly alluded to and, as with so many musicians of exceptional achievement, much of what she had achieved was all too quickly forgotten, overlooked in favor of newer artists. A large crowd attended her Paris funeral in the Madeleine, and on that day even the organ—of which she had been titulaire since 1962, and that she so loved—mourned. Instead of flooding the church with music as it had so many times under her remarkable hands, it stood silently in respect of her passing, a vast black drape hanging from its gallery to the floor. Only some days before she died, she had told friends “I can hear the flutes of the Madeleine” as she lay convalescing in her bed after nearly two months in hospital. Little did she know she would never play the instrument again.
And how did this woman, once the “Queen of Organists,” become almost overlooked in her later years, bypassed in favor of a younger generation? The spectacular successes and triumphs of her youth have been unparalleled by any other organist, yet the burning apogee of these years seemed almost to burn part of her out as the blaze faded, leaving her inwardly exhausted and bereft. An artist of the great virtuoso tradition, her style became less popular as the so-called Organ Reform movement continued to sweep through and gain ever-greater momentum like a rushing wind. And there was her health. Throughout her life, Jeanne Demessieux battled with serious health problems, undergoing numerous operations beginning in her early 20s. She fought cancer silently in an age when any public knowledge of such an illness was a social taboo that would leave the sufferer ostracized and an outcast.
Few ever got to see the woman behind the public persona; being both very reserved, but also having an uncommon force of character and purpose, she didn’t let many people see the “person” behind, except the few she truly trusted. It must also be surmised that the famous “rupture” with Dupré probably seriously affected her faith, and it was a “scandal” she was aware would never leave her.
In many ways, so many elements of her life seemed always to have two such opposing poles: on one hand triumph and fame, on the other, obscurity; being “the chosen one” of her master Dupré, but then being bypassed and cast out; being very much a “grande dame” when at the organ or mixing professionally, yet being a woman of an (at times) uncomfortably reserved nature. The gentleness and sensitivity she showed those whom she trusted contrasted with her strong opinions and individuality. On one hand she was admired as a great artist—on the other she was viewed with suspicion because her brilliance was such that some simply couldn’t see past that alone, and undoubtedly many seethed with jealousy. Even Demessieux herself was aware of the two poles in her personality—gentleness, sensitivity and creation contrasting with “violence” (although her exact word, it referred more to force and strength of character than any darker force). This duality in her nature reflected the two very different natures of her adored parents: her father—cultivated, artistic, sensitive and affectionate; her mother—highly strung, a forceful, driven nature disguised behind an emotive, gentle façade.
By quite some years, she was the first woman to achieve international fame as a virtuoso organist, and her gender undoubtedly had a serious impact on her career. Not only was she entering what was at the time an almost exclusively male domain, it undoubtedly meant that she had, in fact, to be even better than her male colleagues to be accepted as their peer.
She had immense good fortune; she was taken under the wing of the great Dupré when she was still only fourteen. In her, he saw at last the messenger he had been looking for: someone of unlimited and precocious talent, the prophet who would bear the torch of the glorious French organ school forward from him, as he himself had done from his own master Widor. In addition to his other responsibilities and work, he devoted the next eleven years to her education, tirelessly and meticulously preparing her for the role he knew she could fulfill. Proclaiming her as his true successor, he elevated her prowess to such a level that she simply had no realistic competition; even before her famed 1946 debut, he proclaimed to Léonce de Saint-Martin: “You know that I do not say anything glibly, and I say Jeanne Demessieux is the greatest organist of all.” He proclaimed that posterity would rank her alongside Clara Schumann.
Cocooned in this privileged world of Dupré’s home in Meudon, she was loved and nurtured by him and his family as their own. Yet only a year after her triumphant debut concerts, he abruptly severed all contact with her, cutting her off and out of his life without any explanation. Anyone wishing to understand the possible motives and reasons is strongly encouraged to refer to the excellent article by Lynn Cavanaugh, which offers the best considerations of this issue. [See “The Rise and Fall of a Famous Collaboration: Marcel Dupré and Jeanne Demessieux” by Lynn Cavanaugh, in The Diapason, July 2005.] Although she was devastated and suffered enormously from this, some around her felt it was actually a good thing; they were all too aware that under the gently acquiescent girl was a woman who would be unable to live in another’s shadow. Despite Dupré’s unlimited generosity to her (he did, after all, do everything possible to plan her future triumph and success), they knew she could never be a puppet—however well-intentioned the master.
Again, the reader is refered to the above-mentioned article, which discusses with great clarity the unfortunate situation and “fall-out” of this “rupture.” Undoubtedly, there were some who reveled in the scandal of the “fallen angel” and used the situation both for their own opportunity, and also as an advancement in the “turf war” that undoubtedly existed in the Parisian organ world. Despite the fame she enjoyed outside Paris (and to a lesser degree in France), she was certainly given the cold shoulder by a certain faction of its organists and concert promoters. As a result, even today many in France are surprised to know of the celebrity she had outside their country because of her having been largely ostracized from the French organ world. Her music remains largely unknown there.

The legend begins
Jeanne Demessieux made her debut in 1946 at age 25. Dupré himself had arranged a series of six recitals at the Salle Pleyel, Paris, in which he could launch the career of this, his most exceptional pupil. He planned every detail for their maximum impact, even calling them “Six Historic Recitals.” Even the venue, the restoration of its organ, the setting of the stage were a specific part of their big scheme to launch her career. An audience of 1,725—considerably more than was customary for a debut recital (on any instrument) in Paris at the time—witnessed the level of accomplishment she displayed. It was a level that no other organist had before displayed, and the reaction of the audiences at these concerts was simply sensational. Her debut was compared to those of Horowitz, Menuhin, and Gieseking; Dupré himself said “You have shown us this evening that we are in the presence of a phenomenon equal to the youth of Bach or Mozart . . .”
Of Paris’s finest organists present—including Langlais, Litaize, Grünenwald and Falcinelli—Duruflé more humorously (but no less seriously) declared “Next to Jeanne Demessieux, the rest of us play the pedals like elephants!” The press gave free reign to the emotions felt by all, and noted that not even Liszt himself could have stunned them more—and the musical sensitivity she displayed was compared to that of Vierne. At the conclusions of these recitals she was often almost mobbed by the throngs who came to hear her as they clamored for autographs and a closer glimpse of her; their enthusiasm was like fire.
In short, these recitals were a triumph the like of which had never been seen before and has not since. They heralded what was to be an unparalleled few years.

Her career
That first evening (February 26, 1946), when that young woman walked out onto the stage at the Salle Pleyel, dressed simply and elegantly in a pale blue dress, had an impact on the organ world, and it was never the same again.
As a result of the word spreading—as well as due to the very careful particular public relations that the Duprés had planned—the young Jeanne quickly received a flood of invitations to give recitals throughout Europe. On many of these occasions she was the first woman ever to play in those cathedrals, churches and concert halls. Within a few years she had played in virtually every major European city, having given 200 recitals in only four years. As was the case with outstanding performers in an age before the numerous distractions of society today, her concerts usually attracted and drew capacity audiences—both fascinated by her as a woman, but also stunned by what they heard.
In the autumn of 1947 she gave a second, equally triumphant series of six recitals at the Salle Pleyel.
Her London debut was on February 26, 1947 at Westminster Cathedral (where she would return many times). Attended by the whole of the Willis firm, Willis himself had to attend to a cipher immediately before the recital began! She made five visits between 1946 and 1948 alone, including a concerto at the Proms with Sir Malcolm Sargent, Jeanne loving the great Royal Albert Hall instrument. However, it is worth noting that the English critics were usually fairly hostile and, although not widely known, there was a definite intrigue involved here. In 1947 the London Organ Music Society, then headed by George Thalben-Ball, made a request that she pre-sent herself and undergo something of an audition for them; understandably insulted, she flatly refused such a ludicrous request—but they, with a pompous attitude, never got over the fact that she did. Equally—unlike the Americans—they seemed to have a serious issue with being so outshone (in so many ways) by a woman! At the time, English organ critics were usually organists from this Society, and the mean-spirited reviews they gave were in stark contrast to those given by the Americans whose generosity of spirit and enthusiasm knew no limits. During her years of training and preparation, Dupré had warned her she would undoubtedly encounter elements of jealousy. However, the audiences themselves and non-organist critics in the UK also shared this enthusiasm. Although not widely known, in 1953 Demessieux played, by invitation of the young Queen Elizabeth II herself, at her coronation in Westminster Abbey.
At the time of the Pleyel recitals, Dupré had been both planning and insistent that Jeanne must go and make her debut in America; he saw her potential as an artist to achieve considerable fame and success. She, however, flatly refused to agree to go there unless assured of the best possible terms and conditions; her strong-willed nature was beginning already to assert its independence. It has been written and suggested that Dupré was trying to manipulate her into something uncomfortable—to create a Hollywood-style glamor star—but surely he only saw the very real chances for her to make a great life and in turn give herself the freedom such success would allow to devote herself to music. Dupré left for another of his own tours there the following year. Upon his return he never spoke to or had any dealings with her again.
Jeanne’s first tour in North America did not, in fact, take place until 1953: but it was simply triumphant, the audiences and critics alike stunned by the experience. [See “The American Recital Tours of Jeanne Demessieux,” by Laura Ellis, The Diapason, October 1995.] Perhaps only Virgil Fox displayed a similar degree of virtuosity, although his style was, of course, far more flamboyant and his repertoire far more popular. She returned again in 1955 and 1958, and on each occasion packed audiences from coast to coast rewarded her with feverish ovations.
In the early days of her career, her virtually non-stop schedule of concerts included nearly every major city of Europe and North America—all the more remarkable since travel was in those days more reliant on slow trains and sea. Touring was not something she enjoyed, finding it exhausting and, at times, nothing but a punishment. She made only three tours of North America, apparently refusing any further invitations because of a wish to remain near her aging and ever more frail parents.
Unlike many were beginning to do, Jeanne refused to travel by plane unless absolutely necessary; as result of losing a great friend in a crash in her youth, Jeanne was terrified of flying. Undoubtedly, as the years progressed and younger organists were increasingly leaping on planes to play everywhere, this must have curtailed her activities and left her somewhat behind. Disliking traveling generally, unlike such as Dupré, she never ventured further afield to such places as Australia either.
The apogee of her career was undoubtedly during the late 1940s to the mid-1950s. Although she continued giving recitals widely after that, a new generation was emerging—figureheads of the so-called Organ Reform movement—whose fresh ideas and new approach to the organ were captivating followers, leaving the grander virtuosos of previous generations somewhat bypassed. But certainly no other organist—before or since—could ever claim such an auspicious beginning to a career as Jeanne Demessieux.

Repertoire
What did Jeanne Demessieux’s repertoire include? As may be expected, her choice of music was very much based on the traditions of the French Romantic school; during her years with Dupré she studied most of Bach’s works (including all the great preludes, toccatas, fantasias, fugues, sonatas, Orgelbüchlein), as well as many of the works that were the cornerstone of Dupré’s own repertoire—including the great works of Liszt, Franck, Mendelssohn. She also studied numerous works of Dupré himself—both sets of preludes and fugues, both symphonies, Evocation, Le Chemin de la Croix, the Variations, Suite Bretonne and Sept Pièces—all of which she performed in Meudon before 1946. And there was the “riddle” of the Etudes he wrote for her, the transcendental sketches he later regrouped. (It may be pertinent to remark that this was not done, as has been incorrectly noted by some, after the “rupture” between them: it was openly discussed between them prior to her Salle Pleyel debut.)
Jeanne’s concert programs are fascinating to study. However—as with all performers who play from memory—the inevitable restrictions of memorized concert repertoire meant there were, as a result, numerous repetitions of the same works. This aside, all her programs show a decided concern for a variety and balance of periods, texture, styles and emotional impact. Despite a certain classical austerity and obvious concern for music of serious quality, purity and refinement—much in the way a concert pianist of the same era would have chosen that instrument’s classics—there was also very much a regard for aural and structural color.
Nearly every program included at least one major work of Bach, often supplemented by an intimate and expressive chorale prelude or two. Although she played all six of Bach’s trio sonatas in a recital at Dupré’s home on March 19, 1942, only very occasionally did she perform one of these in her subsequent programs. By contrast, some of Handel’s concertos (I, II and X) featured regularly in her programs, complete with spectacular cadenzas of her own—and it may be worth noting here that Dupré’s edition of these was, in reality, almost entirely her work, done during her years of study with him. A variety of other Baroque composers featured occasionally in her concerts—some of these obviously being taken from Dupré’s series Anthologie des Maïtres Classiques. She seemed to like opening recitals with Purcell’s Trumpet Tune, something she first played as an encore in one of her Salle Pleyel programs, when she noted how it “refreshed the audience.” From the Hamburg recording we can today hear on CD, she opted for a bright, sparkling approach to this music, this quite in contrast to the heavy, ponderous and pompous style often given to the same work by many English and American players of her time. Mozart’s Fantasia in F minor, K. 608 was obviously another favorite work of hers, and she performed it frequently. Generally, however, she only included the odd Baroque piece as a bit of “fluff” in her early years; in the ’60s she did, however, include more works—such as Buxtehude, sometimes a suite of Clérambault—although she obviously felt her attentions better directed (and requested) towards more specifically “concert” music. Of particular note (for it being unusual) was her including a fugue of Gibbons in a recital at Westminster Abbey on May 3, 1956—also because it appears that was her only performance of anything English. She did not appear to play any American works.
Despite performing all the Mendelssohn sonatas and preludes and fugues in her youth, these were only rarely included subsequently, whereas the three great works of Liszt featured throughout her whole career and were of obvious great importance to her. Occasionally she chose one or two lighter works of Schumann (a fugue, perhaps a canon) or, less often, maybe a Brahms prelude, usually placed as a moment of contrast after or before a big piece. An unusual work in her repertoire (from the ’50s onwards) was her own transcription of Liszt’s Funérailles—one of the first times being at Westminster Abbey on May 3, 1956, and subsequently she played it quite often. She never wrote it out, instead playing her transcription from memory of the piano score. Similarly, many of her actual compositions were never written out until they were exactly as she wanted them in her head.
The music of César Franck was of particular importance to her, and after Bach it appeared more regularly than anything else. It is interesting to note that on the organ in her apartment, an instrument bought on the success of her American concerts, she hung the famous print of César Franck serenely playing the organ of Sainte-Clothilde.
Other than Franck, the only French Romantic composer she performed with any regularity was Widor, the Allegro from the Sixth Symphony being presented often. Only rarely did she perform a complete symphony—occasionally maybe the Gothique—but the variations of both this and the Fifth appeared often, the latter regularly in her later programs. Interestingly, Vierne (whose music would have suited her so well) only occasionally appeared: for example, sometimes the Scherzo of Symphony No. 2 appeared, much in the role of a refresher between bigger works.
Of the twentieth century, only three names ever appeared with regularity: Messiaen, Berveiller and Demessieux herself. Other than her early years—during which they appeared only occasionally—she hardly ever performed any works of her other contemporaries.
She frequently performed one or two of her own pieces. Apart from her very early concerts, she did not play the Six Etudes as a complete set, later often taking just one or two (Tierces, Notes Repetées, Accordes Alternatés and Octaves being those she chose most often). She did sometimes include one of her choral preludes (Rorate Caeli—her own favorite of the set—and Attende Domine appearing most often), and the austere and granite-like Dogme from the Sept Méditations seems a work she had particular affection for, it appearing many times; occasionally she played one or two other movements from this same set. The Triptyque (with its mysterious and poignant Adagio written just a day or so after the “rupture” with Dupré) appeared on programs throughout her career. In the 1960s, the then recently written Prélude et Fugue and the Répons pour le temps de Pâques quite often featured, as had her Te Deum in the years following its own composition.
Jeanne’s association with Jean Berveiller was of significance. Both apparently loved jazz and particularly Duke Ellington—and the influence of this “lighter” music is reflected in Berveiller’s colorful style. His music suited Jeanne’s obvious wish to bring freshness to her programs, and she played many of his works—Epitaphe, the Suite, his transcription of Franck’s Redemption, and Cadence, written for her 1953 U.S. debut (although one wonders why she didn’t include any of her own Etudes there, for they are far more spectacular). And, of course, there was that famous Mouvement—organists sought to unearth the score for so many years. However, not all these works were, as has been variously claimed, dedicated to her.
Messiaen was of particular significance to Jeanne; he greatly admired her, and she was one of his first and most powerful advocates. She regularly performed his pieces in recitals. Movements of both L’Ascension and La Nativité appeared frequently, as did the whole suites occasionally. For example, she gave the first complete performance of the former at London’s Royal Festival Hall on May 15, 1957, and she played the complete La Nativité at the English Bach Festival on July 1, 1964 in Christ Church, Oxford. She also played Le Banquet Céleste, Apparition de l’Eglise Eternelle, and Combat de la Mort et de la Vie regularly. It is also interesting to note that many players of younger generations who later became associated with this music first heard it in performances (either broadcast or live) by Jeanne Demessieux. It is also a measure of the respect Messiaen held for her that he frequently invited her to be an examiner for his analysis class at the Conservatoire.
And Dupré? She performed so much of his music during her years of study, and some pieces also featured in her earliest public recitals outside France. She performed the Prelude and Fugue in B as part of London debut, and the Symphonie-Passion for a recital there on March 13, 1947 for the Organ Music Society. (This recital has often, erroneously due to Felix Aprahamian, been cited as her London debut.) She also performed the Suite in London.
But did she ever perform Dupré after the “rupture”? Very seldom and from the rarity with which she did, one may believe it was only when specifically asked. She never played any in America, but it is poignant to note that she included the Symphonie-Passion in what was to be one of her final recitals—one in Chester Cathedral, as part of the Chester Festival in July 1967.
Whatever her feelings of betrayal and disappointment, her respect for Dupré as an artist, as much as for the values he upheld and represented, never diminished; neither was she ever known to make any remark against him. A testament to this was the article she contributed to Études (Paris, April 1950) entitled “L’art de Marcel Dupré.”

Improvisation
Improvisation featured in all of her recitals, and her extraordinary skill in all forms of this art was widely known. Dupré once claimed that he could train any technically competent organist to improvise a five-part fugue within six months; so, given the extraordinary gifts of this pupil, it is not surprising that he trained her in this skill to be as brilliant (more, some said) as he was himself. At her first Salle Pleyel recital, she improvised a four-movement symphony. She also did the same in her March 1947 London recital, whose brilliance prompted George Thalben-Ball to say—with a reserve of generosity typical of the British organists—that it was “trick” improvisation because “no one can think that fast”! The French prowess at improvising specific and disciplined musical structures was a world apart from the meandering service-style improvisation of the English, and, again, one notes the distinctive “green eye” looking at her.
Of particular note was a recital she gave at the Conservatoire in Liège on March 1, 1957, the entire program of which was improvised! During it she improvised in numerous forms and structures—from choral variations, a trio sonata, prelude and fugue, paraphrase, and various treatments of chorale (polyphonic, contrapuntal, canon, fugue, ornamented).

Concertos
Quite unusually for an organist of her times, Jeanne was invited to perform concertos fairly often. There were the Proms, the performances with orchestras in France, Belgium and elsewhere—although never, surprisingly, America. She wrote her own “concerto,” Poème, in the very early ’50s, giving its premiere in 1952, as well as that of Langlais’ Concerto. In December 1964 she gave the Belgian premiere of Poulenc’s, also performing Jongen’s Symphonie Concertante with the Orchestre de Liège. Less successful was her recording of two of Handel’s concertos with the Suisse Romande orchestra; she found working with its conductor, the aged Ernest Ansermet, very difficult and was infuriated by his despotic wish to control the proceedings—including her playing, and even trying to suppress her cadenzas. Again, her strong will and individuality were far too strong to be so treated by a despotic conductor.

Recordings
Nearly all the recordings Jeanne made were for Decca, in those days probably the most significant recording company. Her first were several 78s, featuring works by Bach, Widor, Franck, Mendelssohn, and Purcell’s Trumpet Tune.
Then she made numerous LPs—several were made at Victoria Hall in Geneva in the early 1950s; in addition to the Handel concertos mentioned above, these included works of Bach, Liszt, Widor and Franck. A recital of Bach and Franck on the organ of St. Mark’s, North Audley Street (an instrument later removed to Holy Trinity, Brompton, where it remains) was also issued. A project a few years later for her to record a series in Notre-Dame (Paris) was never realized, much to her great regret. She did, however, record several mixed selections at the Madeleine a few years before her famous recording of Franck made there, for which she won the Grand Prix du Disque in 1960. Two years later she was appointed Organiste-titulaire of this great church and its organ, an honor she considered so special she admitted she “cried with joy.” She had served prior to this appointment as organist in the church of Saint-Esprit during her teenage years.
In the early 1960s, Messiaen agreed she should record his (then) complete works. Although greatly passionate about this project, her refusal to sign the contract easily and continued questioning and bargaining of its terms meant that by the time of her unexpected death, the actual contract remained still unsigned. On the strength of her extant recordings, one can only imagine how we have missed out from these never being recorded. Her last recording was made at Liverpool Metropolitan Cathedral as part of the celebrations of the then new cathedral and its organ.
It was rumored that during the ’50s she recorded the Six Etudes for Decca, although this may have been just a legend. Certainly this writer has failed to unearth any concrete facts about these.
Many of Demessieux’s recordings have now been reissued by Festivo and are available on CD. They testify to an artist of exceptional gifts and clearly disprove the claim of those who tried to brand (even dismiss) her merely as an empty virtuoso.

Performance style
Jeanne Demessieux was a spectacular and transcendental virtuoso. Although the influence and tradition handed down to her by Dupré is apparent, her playing obviously had a personality decidedly her own, one markedly different from his; despite certain similar elements, there are few other similarities. From recordings we can hear her remarkable strength of authority, characterized by the same rigorous heroism and rhythmic power that Dupré demonstrated—but her playing demonstrated very little of Dupré’s rigidity, instead displaying a far more emotional expressive range, even at times being remarkably sensual.
In recitals, critics repeatedly spoke of her commanding mastery, taste, responsibility and respect for the composers and works she played (with the exceptions of those less generous mentioned earlier). Again, from her recordings, it is also very clear that she listened intensely to her own playing and to the inner workings of what she played. She was also very aware of and sensitive to acoustics, which she employed in a very personal way.
Demessieux once remarked “a performer has her rights,” implying that a performer must create an interpretation. Unlike many of the “organ reform” brigade, she, like Dupré and other virtuosos, did not attach great importance to slavishly following the score indications and registrations (as some have insisted we all should) in either her own or others’ music without question or a certain (tasteful) liberty. From her journals we can note frequent questioning of things such as metronome markings and performance indications. Her ambition was clearly to make music “live,” free from rigidity and the dogmatic approach certain other performers favored.
Another point is worth mentioning with regards to certain British and American reviews in which it was claimed she was simply a dazzling virtuoso and nothing more. For one, they missed that her playing—decidedly French—was strikingly different from the often overtly sentimental styles of performance common in both countries at the time. Few players had the exceptional sensitivity and subtlety she was capable of in her Bach chorales, her Franck. Maybe her excessive brilliance actually irritated some who were made all the more aware of their own limitations.
One thing is certain: no one, especially not Demessieux herself, would claim any were “definitive”—for such a claim would only reveal more arrogance and ego than true artistry. But these recordings are a wonderful testament to a great artist; we younger generations have truly missed out, not being able to hear her live.

The performer
The commanding presence of Jeanne Demessieux was widely remarked upon, and she was known for an aristocratic “hauteur” combined with a feminine, graceful demeanor. As with Dupré (and most of his pupils), once seated at the organ she was virtually motionless. Sitting bolt upright with regal carriage, she played with remarkable physical dignity and relaxation, and had no interest in the kind of performing histrionics and display that were customary in America—something often remarked upon by the press. This seemed to cause an even greater impact on the audiences, because the authority and strength of her performances belied her small and fragile physique. Dupré himself had repeatedly spoken of her power and strength as a player, even using the terms “masculine” and “virile.”
In the early days of her career, applause in churches was not customary and recitals were quite a sober affair; she presented herself accordingly in reserved, but elegant, attire. However, in concert halls or more relaxed venues Jeanne brought a sense of occasion and glamor not previously known in recitals and not adopted as the norm for many years afterwards. She was known for beautiful, stylish long evening gowns, often including a train that she would drape gracefully over the back of the organ bench. Perversely, this often obscured the pedals and her legendary pedal prowess from the view of the audience! The silver shoes—with their high Louis XV heels—in which she always played have become part of her legend. However, it would be quite wrong to believe there was anything remotely exhibitionist or “flashy” about her presentation—this was quite contrary to her reserved nature; it was for her just presentation and style.
Other than occasionally during church services, she never used music and played everything entirely by memory, never traveling with any scores. According to Marie-Madeleine Duruflé-Chevalier, who was a loyal and trusted friend, she had little (if any) difficulty in recalling any of the great works of the repertoire from memory.

Teacher
In her years of study, Dupré had repeatedly spoken of his wish that she would succeed him as Professor of Organ at the Paris Conservatoire, also expressing his wish that she succeed him as Organiste-titulaire at Saint-Sulpice (“only Jeanne Demessieux can occupy the organ loft of the great Widor” he declared). Indeed, on a few occasions about the time of her first Salle Pleyel recitals, she took his class while he was absent giving concerts. However, after the “rupture” these were just shattered dreams. The conservatoire post was in the end filled by another Dupré disciple, Rolande Falcinelli.
In addition to her concerts, Jeanne did, however, teach both organ and piano throughout her career. In the early days, she was teaching some 25 hours each week, on top of which were 14–15 hours for Saint-Esprit. After all this came the most important call on her time—her own practice; she often worked eight hours a day at the organ, as well as composing. And in addition to all these demands, was the greatest of all—her hectic concert schedule!
In Paris she taught privately in her apartment, also doing some teaching in Nancy. She was appointed professor of organ at the Royal Conservatoire in Liège in 1952, a role she took with great responsibility, traveling every week on the train from Paris for two or three days. She was as exacting with her pupils as she was with herself. However, she managed this imperceptibly, and their testimonies speak always of her kindness, warmth and encouragement as a teacher—and her unlimited generosity in encouraging them to achieve their maximum. She was also enthusiastic, encouraging and aware that a pupil may wish and need to explore other styles and traditions of performance than her own—illustrated by her recommending one student to go to study with Anton Heiller, who was then setting Europe alight with his brilliant interpretations, in a style very different from her own. Among her outstanding pupils were noted virtuosos Pierre Labric and Louis Thiry.
She was also invited to give various masterclasses and interpretation courses—among them Dublin in 1954 and Haarlem in 1955 and 1956, where she also become chair of the jury for the competitions. Following Dupré’s retirement, she was several times invited to be on the jury for the organ class at the Paris Conservatoire.

Organ building
What is less known is that Jeanne Demessieux had a passionate interest in organ building: she was fascinated by traditions and future ideas for organ building. Again, it was Dupré who had awoken this, and again—as with everything she did—she cultivated her own views and knowledge. She admired many diverse types of instrument—the great Cavaillé-Colls of course (particularly those in Rouen, Saint-Sulpice, the Madeleine and Notre-Dame), but also many older instruments, such as those in Weingarten and various great Dutch instruments.
In the 1960s, she began a major project for the French government to undertake a classification and study of the great instruments throughout France. Her private papers include a large file of her notes written in longhand analyzing many aspects of each of the numerous instruments considered in detail.
Perhaps least favorite for her were some of the large, heavy and ponderous American instruments. One note in her diary remarked a certain instrument was flat, dull and heavy in sound—“unfortunately, just what Dupré would love!”

The person
Jeanne was a person of complex personality—although not in the “temperamental” way. She could have great charm, yet be very aloof and display noted reserve with people. While not displaying any offensive ego or arrogance, she was well aware of her capabilities and stature: how could she not have been?
Her “duality” has been touched on earlier. A woman of highly intellectual capacity, with a remarkable ability to learn and retain, she was not interested in the superficial—thus she found many of the inevitable post-concert receptions (these being especially part of the American scene in the days she played there) quite dreadful; she loathed them, and even felt she’d earned her money just by enduring “ordeals,” as she called them! She seemed to have confused many—some saw her as very shy, others as reserved, some as charming, some as distant and impersonal. Yet under these various exteriors was a woman who was perhaps exactly all of these things by turn. She was also an observer of others—she noted in her diary how, on one of the boat trips going to play in America, she asked to dine alone at her own table—so that she could watch all the other passengers from a distance, but not have to mix with them or exchange superficial conversation. She also remarked elsewhere that she did not like the “snobbism” of certain artistic and cultural circles, some of whom were there merely because it was “the thing to do.”
Few—realistically only a mere handful—ever knew the real person behind the woman. Of those who did, all have spoken without limit of generosity of her kindness, gentleness, distinction, warmth and charm; to these people she was never affected by her celebrity, but remained a person of modesty and humility. She retained a sincere loyalty and friendship with those she trusted. Possibly the “rupture” with Dupré scarred her here too, for she never allowed many to ever become close to her again.
When relaxed, she had a sparkling and engaging personality, and to some she was a breath of fresh air from the usual, more drab male colleagues whom promoters had to entertain. Her correspondence to friends reflects a charming and effusive spirit; the radiant and effusive tone here was of great warmth, energy and spirit.
What was not publicly known in her life was that she suffered precarious health throughout much of her life, battling cancer in particular. It must be remembered that, until only recent generations, the discussion of illness—particularly serious illness—was an absolute social taboo; knowledge of any serious illness could often leave a person socially outcast, even professionally ruined. In addition to cancer, she had repeated bouts of “nervous exhaustion”—undoubtedly exacerbated by constantly fighting cancer plus her own fragility in order to continue working. Her drive, however, is reflected in that on several occasions she was up and traveling merely days after one of the many operations she underwent.
It was typical of her reserve that she lived in only modest accommodation—her apartment being only two rooms in a suburb of Paris. Yet she died owning multiple properties.

The last years
The auspicious successes and good fortune of her youth did not follow her through to middle age. Although the center of everyone’s attention in her youth, this changed. Despite the unswerving loyalty and love of her family, Dupré—the man she loved as her mentor and second “father”—turned against her (as did many in the wake of this), and the wider organ world began to look at new and emerging younger artists, rather overlooking her in the process. Understandably, for someone as sensitive as she undoubtedly was, this must have been immensely difficult to endure.
In the mid 1960s, she began to look back on her life and reflect, sometimes quite plaintively, and began to speak to those she trusted of her exhaustion and serious inner fatigue. Some who met her in these years spoke of her displaying quite visible inward sadness, despite the smiling and charming exterior. In addition to the enormous drain her illness must have had on her, her soul seems to have become disillusioned not with music itself, but with it as a profession and with all it had demanded of her. Despite her luck, she felt trying to establish her career had been a constant battle, many having viewed her either with suspicion or envy (often both). The dreams of her youth were shattered and soured, the sadness of her broken alliance with Dupré had distressed her immeasurably. Instead of looking back on a happy childhood, she began to look back with resentment on a childhood of solitary study, on a life of great personal disappointment, of disillusioned sadness at betrayed trusts. As a performer, the outstanding fame of her youth had waned.
One wonders how Dupré must have felt when she died, something he is never known to have divulged. Once as dear to him as his if she was his own daughter, to whom he had promised so much (and against whom he had turned against violently), she died—as did his own daughter, Marguerite—from cancer far too young. One wonders what he felt, and notes how pointless all those wasted years of non-communication surely were.

The legacy
The legend of Jeanne Demessieux has been of far greater importance than many have considered, or been willing to admit. Maybe some even felt such discussion would have distracted from their own achievements? To many, the star of this brilliant artist has always been something quite untouchable, and many organists (this writer among them) have practiced themselves into a frenzy in the hope of attaining just a little of her level of brilliance. Many openly freely admit how much they have been inspired by her image, and nearly every outstanding female organist since has, inevitably, at some stage been compared to her. Some people were, of course, less generous (as is their right) or simply didn’t appreciate her style, and undoubtedly there were also those who may even have been well served by the waning of her star and her passing because it gave them more space to grow. Yet she still remains one of the most talked of organists of all, a name virtually every organist knows.
Today there is renewed interest in her both as performer and composer and younger generations are discovering a legend anew. Her music is being discovered and performed more than ever before. Her influence is a great deal more than just the eternal talk of “the silver shoes.”

Further reading
Jeanne Demessieux, “Un Vie de Luttes et de Gloire” by Christiane Trieu-Colleney, Les Presses Universelles 1977
Jeanne Demessieux: Témoignages de ses Elèves et Amis, published by Les Amis de Jeanne Demessieux, 1901
“Six Etudes, Op. 5, of Jeanne Demessieux,” by Marjorie Ness, The Diapason, August 1987, pp. 9–11.
“The American Recital Tours of Jeanne Demessieux,” by Laura Ellis, The Diapason, October 1995, pp. 14–18.
“The Rise and Fall of a Famous Collaboration: Marcel Dupré and Jeanne Demessieux” by Lynn Cavanagh, The Diapason, July 2005, pp. 18–21.
The recordings of Jeanne Demessieux now reissued by Festivo contain excellent writing by one of her devoted friends, Pierre Labric.

Websites:
Les Amis de Jeanne Demessieux: http://cat.uregina.ca/demessieux/

by Laura Ellis

Jeanne Demessieux (1921-1968) was a brilliant French organist, recitalist, and composer. One of a select number of European organists to tour America in the mid-twentieth century, she fascinated audiences with her phenomenal technique. Three transcontinental tours of America in 1953, 1955, and 1958 established Demessieux as one of the greatest products of the modern French organ school.  She demonstrated her skill at improvisation and introduced to American audiences a number of her own compositions and those of other French composers.1

Demessieux's formal musical training began at the age of seven at the Montpellier Conservatory. To facilitate her studies, the Demessieux family moved to Paris in 1932 and one year later Jeanne was admitted into the Paris Conservatory. Demessieux's teachers at the Conservatory included Simon Riera, Magda Tagliafero, and Marcel Dupré. For Demessieux and Dupré an exceptional relationship between teacher and student was born. Dupré instilled in her his pedagogical ideas and created for her a climate in which she could devote herself completely to the art of organ. As a teacher, Demessieux had occasionally substituted for Dupré at the Paris Conservatory. Her first appointment occurred in 1950 when she was nominated to the organ professorship at the Nancy Conservatory. In 1952 she was nominated to and eventually accepted the organ position at the Royal Conservatory in Liège, Belgium. In 1962, following thirty years of service at the church of Saint Esprit, Demessieux became titulaire of La Madeleine, a position she held until her death.

The 1953 American tour

Colbert-LaBerge Concert Management, based in New York City, announced the first transcontinental tour of Jeanne Demessieux in the October, 1952 issue of The Diapason2 and the November, 1952 edition of the American Organist.3 In February and March of 1953, Demessieux made her American début in New York, Pittsburgh, Boston, Oakland, and several other cities. Her first live exposure to the American public occurred on the January 31, 1953, broadcast over WQXR radio and its affiliated stations. In association with the American Guild of Organists, WQXR broadcast a series of recitals from Temple Emanu-El in New York City. Demessieux's program was:

Trumpet Tune  Purcell 

Chorale Prelude: "When We Are in Deepest Need"    Bach

Fugue in G Major (Gigue)            Bach

Pastorale                   Franck

"Dogme" from Seven Meditations

Demessieux4

Upon her arrival in the United States an interview in the New York Herald Tribune revealed that after her début recital in New York City, Demessieux would go on a twenty-five-concert tour of the country. She had learned from memory the entire organ literature of Bach, Franck, Mendelssohn, Liszt, Handel, and all but the last two compositions of Dupré, a total of between 1,000 and 2,000 works. Not only was her repertoire vast, but she was so confident in her ability that she left all of her scores in France!5

The American début of Demessieux in recital was on February 2, 1953, at Central Presbyterian Church in New York City with the following program:

Trumpet Tune  Purcell

Prelude and Fugue in A Minor

"The Old Year Has Passed Away"

Fugue in G Major (Gigue)            Bach

Pastorale                   Franck

Variations from Symphonie gothique Widor

Banquet celeste                     Messiaen

Fifth Study, Repeated Notes

Dogme Demessieux

Cadence                    Berveiller6

Group of improvisations on submitted themes7

Demessieux's début recital was reviewed in the leading organ periodicals of the day. M. Searle Wright of The Diapason felt her playing was representative of the Grand French manner--big line, simple cleancut phrasings, steady tempi and clarity of part reading and articulation in general.8 Editor of The American Organist, T. Scott Buhrman, was similarly impressed with her concept of articulation and praised her crisp and fearless staccato:9

If we have ears to hear with, a close scrutiny of how Miss Demessieux uses staccato, only rarely perverting the organ to its mud-thick legatos, will do much to revolutionize the funereal organ recital and, if we have the good sense to watch our repertoire better, revive the organ as an instrument of beauty rather than torture. . . . [She illustrates the] finest staccato to come out of Europe since Joseph Bonnet.10

She impressed American concert-goers with her phenomenal pedal technique, all the more astonishing due to her very high French heels. Not only her pedal technique, but her physique impressed Buhrman:11

Miss Demessieux has legs and she's not ashamed of them; they're shapely, and they dance around the pedalboard with never a miss; she's a little girl, very young, and has, evidently, so much good sense that nothing matters but her music. No lady can sit on an organ bench without showing how her shoes are attached to the rest of her, and Miss Demessieux apparently didn't give a darn; I like honesty.

The aforementioned reviews differ in their appreciation of Demessieux's utilization of the colors of the organ. Wright was not particularly impressed with her registrational choices:12

Demessieux, like many of her many French compatriots, seems to be satisfied only with the most sharply contrasting stops available, regardless of the timbre of individual voices and their blend or lack of blend in combination or opposition. The result is the use, both for ensemble or solo playing, of the biggest, hootiest flutes, the edgiest reeds, etc.

In the same recital, another reviewer felt Demessieux used the organ more effectively:13

Franck you can have; one of his least interesting pieces, but Miss Demessieux none the less used it [the Pastorale] to teach Americans another lesson they've tried to forget, namely that a mess of colors is not nearly so good as clear-cut pure colors. She contrasted reeds against flutes . . . the flutes were unmuddied by the addition of unnecessary supplementary voices, the reeds were ditto.

At Central Presbyterian Church Demessieux played a few of her own compositions. First, "Repeated Notes" from her Six Etudes is "grand concert music; it invites the Pedal to come up out of the 16' sub-basement and have a frolic in the living room with the rest of the family. And it has something musical to say too, and says it entertainingly."14 "Dogme" from Sept Méditations sur le Saint Esprit received mixed reviews.

T. Scott Buhrman wrote: "Dogme is typical contemporary noises, made as ugly as possible; don't blame that on Miss Demessieux; she's contaminated by the spirit of the age."15 In another review, M. Searle Wright was complimentary:16

Mlle. Demessieux's own "Dogme" proved an imaginatively written work in a big rhapsodic style. The composer's striking use of polytonal textures lends an exciting vitality to her music. What the French lack in imagination regarding registration they surely make up in their fertile harmonic consciousness.

Performing in the tradition of her maître Marcel Dupré and other French organists, Demessieux concluded all of her American concerts with an improvisation on submitted themes. In her New York début she improvised a three-movement symphony based on three themes submitted by M. Searle Wright. Wright comments:17

The fugue which crowned the improvised work was a genuine fugue complete with an exciting stretto in which the subject (an angular one) was managed in augmentation with the right foot alone, while the left provided a counterpoint to the brilliant manual parts.

Not all American concert-goers were in awe of French improvisations. Buhrman tartly writes:18

Since public improvisations are more of a sham than I'm willing to waste time on, I walked out after two or three minutes of it, though this time the improvisor did stick to the theme, at least while I was listening. I hope the organ world will grow up and abolish this childish nonsense; never once among all the improvisations I've suffered through--including Dupré's--have I heard anything worth the effort of hearing.

Above all, Demessieux performed her recitals professionally and without the manufactured flair of many keyboardists. As Buhrman commented:19

Before going to the bench, Miss Demessieux faced her audience and recognized them by a courteous bow, then went to her job without attempts to fool anybody with the usual tricks of all too many concert performers. . . . One thing always annoys me, and a lot of other organists too, is a player's making a silly show of himself or herself when playing ffff organ, trying to make the audience think it's harder to play ffff than pp. Observe this young lady and you'll be delighted with her honesty. Only once or twice did she fling a hand off the keyboard at the release of a ffff chord, and then it was only the left hand, never the right.

In a letter to her parents, addressed February 5, 1953, Demessieux declared that her first American recital was "a resounding success."20 She reported to her parents that the organ at Central Presbyterian Church was beautiful and that the American Organist sent her a very flattering letter regarding her début concert.21

Following an engagement on the six-manual organ at the Wanamaker store in Philadelphia, Demessieux played a recital on February 10 at the Pennsylvania College for Women in Pittsburgh. The program, sponsored by the Möller Organ Company, included:

Toccata and Fugue in D Minor                     Bach

Chorale Prelude                    Bach

Concerto in G Minor     Handel

Pastorale                   César Franck

Symphonie-Passion         Dupré

Epitaphe                   Berveiller

"Les Rameaux"                      Langlais

Chorale Prelude: "Ubi Caritas"                      Demessieux

Study for Octaves               Demessieux

Improvisation upon a given theme22

Fred Lissfelt reviewed the program:23

She represents not only an important church [St. Esprit, Paris] but a great tradition in French organ playing, avoiding the many sensational effects that other nations attain through brilliant registration, and holding firm to clarity of technique and a suave assurance in the art of improvisation, all of which she demonstrated well in her program.

Demessieux played the following program at First Methodist Church in Peoria, IL:

Trumpet Tune  Purcell

Prelude and Fugue in A Minor                       J.S. Bach

Chorale: "The Old Year Has Passed Away"     J.S. Bach

Fugue in G Major (Gigue)           J.S. Bach

Third Chorale in A Minor              Cesar Franck

Variations from Symphonie gothique                         Widor

Banquet celeste                     Olivier Messiaen

Fifth Study: Repeated Notes      Jeanne Demessieux

"Dogme" from Méditations sur le Saint Esprit                       Jeanne Demessieux

Cadence (Study for pedal dedicated to Jeanne Demessieux)  Jean Berveiller

Improvisation on a submitted theme24

The recital was reviewed by Evabeth Miller who wrote:25

Legend says that after the great Emperor Charlemagne had an Arabian organ brought to Aachen in the year 812, people were so impressed by its soft sweet tone that one woman died of the sheer ecstacy of hearing it.

Nothing like that happened Sunday afternoon in First Methodist Church, but it well could have, if that were a real measure of the exalted beauty of organ music, for Mlle. Jeanne Demessieux of Paris provided such tone, as well as a great deal else, in a remarkable concert program. . . .

One could not help thinking, too, particularly as the Widor music filled the crowded church in the late afternoon, that here was being heard a musician in the line of direct descent of greatness. For Mademoiselle Demessieux had played three Bach selections, and it was Widor who had edited the complete works of Bach with his pupil, the great organist-theologian-missionary doctor, Albert Schweitzer; and it was Widor who taught Marcel Dupré, who succeeded him at the Paris church of St. Sulpice; and it was Dupré who taught this young woman who has been organist of the Eglise du Saint Esprit in Paris since she was 12 years old.

She looked almost like a timid child as she came through a balcony door to take her place at the organ console, a slight figure in a simple, circular-skirted dress of light green silk, her short slightly auburn hair brushed back into a halo. Once seated, she proceeded as calmly as if she were playing something as simple as a spinet. But there the simplicity ended. . . .

In the first half, listeners were perhaps more enveloped in the music than in the technique of its production, but as the second portion began they became gradually more and more aware of the technical skill they were witnessing. Mademoiselle Demessieux' pedal work was nothing short of astounding, her intensity of feeling and sureness of concept in each work were conveyed by a technical mastery that got its only visibly dramatic expression in her hands, which had the graceful eloquence of a ballerina's hands in their approach to some passages.

The Peoria recital concluded with the characteristic improvisation. For this recital, Demessieux improvised a prelude and fugue on the chorale "O Sacred Head Now Wounded." She remained faithful to the theme's motive "as she embroidered on it elaborately and with considerable fullness, giving thrilling development to the fugue portion."26

She played a recital on March 8 at the First Methodist Church in Oakland, CA. Richard Montague remarked:27

Demessieux's playing possesses all possi- ble virtues. It is accurate, rhythmic, sensitive, dramatic, clear, chaste, vigorous and intelligent. One is impressed above all by her sureness and maturity. Her nuances seem always inevitable and affectation is unknown to her.

After various other recitals across the country, including Canton, OH, Dallas, Boston, New Orleans, and even Brantford, Ontario, Canada, Demessieux concluded her first American tour, as it began, with a recital at Central Presby- terian Church in New York City. The program on March 22 included:

Overture from the 29th Cantata "We Thank Thee, God"              J.S. Bach

First Concerto in G Minor             G.F. Handel

Fantaisie on "Ad Nos, Ad Salutarem"                        Franz Liszt

"Ubi Caritas" from Twelve Chorale Preludes on Gregorian Themes   Jeanne Demessieux

Etude en tierces                    Jeanne Demessieux

"The World Awaiting the Savior" from   Symphonie-Passion                       Marcel Dupré

Improvisation on a Submitted Theme28

The recital was reviewed by Virgil Thomson in the New York Herald Tribune:29

French organ playing has been one of the musical glories of our century; and Jeanne Demessieux, who played an organ recital last night in the Central Presbyterian Church, is clearly a light in that glory. All evening long your reviewer, who has known most of the great organ playing of our time, from that of Widor and Bonnet and Vierne through Dupré to Messiaen, could only think of those masters as company for this extraordinary musician and virtuoso. . . .

Miss Demessieux's work as a composer appeared, from the two selections offered (a chorale-prelude on Ubi caritas and a Study in Thirds) to be skillful and musi- cally sophisticated. It was not possible to gather from them any characteristic profile of individuality. Neither was anything of the kind manifest in her improvisation beyond perhaps an assurance of taste, intelligence, and technical skill of the highest order. She improvised, as is the French custom, in the Baroque forms, including a dazzling Toccata. Since the theme composed for her by Seth Bingham did not lend itself easily to fugal treatment, she omitted the customary fugal finale and finished her series of improvisations quietly with a poetic variation based on thematic alterations.

Notable throughout the evening were the soloist's elaborate and subtle treatment of registration and her powerful rhythm. No less subtle and no less powerful were her phraseology and her acoustical articulation. Accustomed, no doubt, to compensating for the acoustical lags and other echoing characteristics of France's vast cruciform churches, all stone and glass, she employed to great advantage in the smaller but similarly reverberant walls of the Central Presbyterian a staccato touch for all rapid passage work involving bright or loud registration. This device kept the brilliance clean; and its contrast with the more sustained utterance of broader themes gave a welcome variety, a contrapuntal dimension. We are not used here to so dry an articulation, to so striking a clarity in organ playing. I must say that the fine brightness of the registration possibilities in the organ she was playing on aided the artist, as a good French organ also does, to avoid the muddy noises that so often pass for serious organ execution.

Last night there was no mud anywhere, only music making of the most crystalline and dazzling clarity. Every piece had style, beauty, gesture, the grand line. And perhaps the grandest line of all, the richest color and the most dramatic form were those of Liszt's magniloquent Fantasy. I wonder why organists play this work so rarely. Is it too hard to learn? Surely not. Miss Demessieux swept through it, as she did everything else, from memory.

Fred Haley was also present at the March 22 recital at Central Presbyterian:30

I do remember being overwhelmed by the technical virtuosity, the splendid musicianship and the poetic moments as well as the heroic ones. The registrations were complicated and efficient--made for extreme clarity--but were not as orchestral as Farnam tradition had accustomed me and my friends to. Also at a time when American women organists were wearing unbecoming floor length concert dresses with harem pants underneath (always excepting Catharine Crozier), Mlle. Demessieux was gowned in the height of Parisian chic--the New Look was still new then!

Demessieux wrote in her journal that the church was so full during her second recital in New York that they had to turn people away. She also felt the evening had a feverish ambiance.31

The 1955 American tour

In the February 1954 edition of The American Organist, Colbert-LaBerge Management announced the return of Jeanne Demessieux to America for another series of recitals. The youthful French organist, who amazed listeners on her first tour, would make another transcontinental tour of the United States during February and March of 1955.32 The tour, which opened in Glen Falls, NY, included recitals in New York City, Syracuse, Seattle, Milwaukee, and Chicago.

Unfortunately, Demessieux's voyage to the United States on the ship Liberty did not begin well. On the second day of travel she wrote in her journal of severe seasickness. The sea was very rough and the shutters for the portholes had to remain closed.33

Upon disembarkment in New York, Demessieux met with a representative from the Colbert-LaBerge management firm. Like many performers she was disenchanted with the technical details involved in making any recital tour a success. The papers, schedules, tickets, reservations, contracts, programs to modify, last minute engagements, and finances were things that Demessieux would rather not be bothered with. As a performer she had to keep track of the smallest detail, including schedule changes of trains and other unforseeable events. Despite these technical details, Demessieux realized the virtuoso had to present a wonderful if not impeccable recital.34

Demessieux began her 1955 American tour in Glens Falls, NY, on February 6. Despite newly fallen snow, a large number of people attended this premier recital. Her program included the following selections:

Toccata in F Major          Bach

"Come now, Saviour of the Heathen" Bach

Second Concerto in B Flat Major             Handel

Second Chorale in B Minor        César Franck Allegro (from Sixth Symphony)  Ch. M. Widor

Intermezzo (from the Suite)  Jean Berveiller

Triptyque                 Jeanne Demessieux

Improvisation on a submitted theme35

Demessieux performed the "Cadence" of Jean Berveiller as an encore.

Demessieux arrived in New York on February 7 for a return engagement at Central Presbyterian Church. Her program included:

Fantasy & Fugue in G Minor   Bach

"Blessed Jesus We Are Here" Bach

Fugue in C             Buxtehude

Concerto 10       Handel

B Minor Canon                      Schumann

Redemption (Interlude Symphonique) Franck

Sym. 2: Scherzo                    Vierne

"Paix"   Demessieux

"Dieu parmi nous"             Messiaen36

T. Scott Buhrman, editor of the American Organist, once again penned a colorful review:37

A concert organist is much like a host entertaining his friends; in both cases the first aim, outside an educational or penal institution, should be to give the friends, first a personal welcome, second something they'll enjoy. Miss Demessieux, presumably one of the great contemporary French organists, bowed courteously enough when she first appeared before her friends who were spending an hour--or two or three or four--to hear her and enjoy the musical feast she would presumably offer; but when she returned to the room after a ten-minute intermission she didn't even nod to those friends. . . .

The first half of the program was played on hard & loud Diapason & mixture combinations; even the Blessed Jesus was done that way, devoid of any touch of tenderness; also the middle Handel Concerto movement--though in spite of its hardness & loudness it still had something of happiness in it, which much of Handel's organ music has. [The] Recital began 12 minutes late.

The first enjoyable music was Schumann's, the righthand part played delightfully on strings, the answering lefthand on a loud flute for reasons I couldn't understand; the contrast was too violent. I think organists are tired of music, and in Central Presbyterian they are fooled dynamically because no artist could conceivably want so much music as loud as it hits the audience. There is no beauty in loudness. . . .

Naturally I do not know, but I believe Miss Demessieux must be one of the very finest French organists; now if she would make her music sound as charming and delightful as she herself certainly is, you couldn't ask for anything finer. She has everything in the world she needs excepting enough conceit to break away from the binding traditions of the organ world and constitute herself instead a hostess offering her friends the choicest bits of enjoyment possible to put together in a musical feast.

Demessieux herself felt there was a large audience at the recital. After the concert the audience presented flowers to her, and then she had to do her least favorite thing--greet and converse with the concert-goers.38

A recital at Grace Methodist Church in Harrisburg, PA, followed on February 10. Even though the organ was in bad condition and the combination action refused to work,39 Demessieux reflected in her diary: "a concert where the contact with the public was particularly comfortable (while playing, I thought suddenly: "If it were necessary to give this up, I never could.")"40

Despite the mechanical problems with the organ, a "large audience greeted Mlle. Demessieux and were greatly impressed by her technical perfection, profound musicianship and eloquence of interpretation."41 Her program included:

Toccata in F Major          Bach

"Come Now, Savior of the Heathen"    Bach Second Concerto in B Major         Handel

Second Chorale in B Minor        Franck

Allegro, from Sixth Symphony                       Widor

Intermezzo from Suite Jean Berveiller

Triptyque Demessieux

Improvisation on submitted themes42

Of her improvisation Irene Bressler writes:43

 . . . three themes written by Donald Clapper, organist of the Pine Street Presbyterian Church, were handed Mlle. Demessieux. . . . it was evident that she had caught the germ of her art of improvisation from her teacher Marcel Dupré. Whether one likes the modern idiom or not, it is ever a thrilling experience to follow the many moods displayed and always the grand, full organ climax.

After travelling by train, Demessieux played a recital at Syracuse University on Saturday, February 12th. She found there an excellent organ of three manuals in the neo-classical style (ca. 1950). The recital was a success, but few people attended because of the blustery winter weather.44 Though the concert was a success, the car ride to the university proved to be difficult. On the way to the university, the car Demessieux was riding in got stuck in a snowdrift. She and the other occupants had to brave the snow and wind on foot to make it to the school in time for the recital!45

In a letter to her sister dated February 15, Demessieux related that the tour was going extremely well. She felt that the present tour of America was going exactly as the preceding 1953 tour, but now she was more experienced.46 Again she expressed impatience with the constant demands upon the touring performer. She reluctantly accepted the invitations for dinners and receptions not because they were pleasurable for her, but because she knew they were required of her. She realized she had to be gracious whether she was fatigued or not. "As for smiling, it is the worst fatigue: it is necessary to smile constantly . . . I earn my money by a thousand efforts that include much more than playing."47

A recital on Friday, February 18 was a great success with many people attending, but other details of the recital have not survived. Demessieux concluded the concert with two encores.48 On Saturday February 19th, Demessieux's journal entries for the 1955 American tour came to an end due to lack of time. Further correspondence to her parents and sister provides information concerning the rest of the tour.

On February 28, Demessieux played the following program at University Presbyterian Church in Seattle, WA:

Toccata in F Major         Johann Sebastian Bach

Chorale: "Dearest Jesus, We Are Here"                  Johann Sebastian Bach

Fugue in C Major               Dietrich Buxtehude

Tenth Concerto in D Minor        George Frederick Handel

Scherzo (Second Symphony)   Vierne

Redemption (Interlude Symphonique)                      Cesar Franck-Jean Berveiller49

Intermezzo (from the Suite)        Berveiller

"Paix" (from Seven Meditations sur le Saint Esprit [sic], Paris)                  Jeanne Demessieux

"Dieu parmi nous"             Olivier Messiaen

Improvisation on an Original Theme (submitted by George McKay, University of Washington)50

A review of this recital has not been located.

On March 2, Demessieux spent the day with Darius Milhaud and his wife at Mills College in San Francisco, performing for students and professors. Milhaud asked Demessieux to play one of her works for him, and she delighted him with a fugue. Milhaud then presented Demessieux a scholarly theme upon which to improvise another fugue. He was very astonished and said that he had previously heard a similar improviser51--most likely referring to Dupré.

After several recitals in the Midwest, including one at Ascension Lutheran Church in Milwaukee, Demessieux played in Chicago. The March 7 recital at St. Peter's Catholic Church in Chicago was sponsored by the Chicago Club of Women Organists and attracted several hundred people. The program included:

Fantasie and Fugue in G Minor                    Bach

Chorale Prelude:                 "Blessed Jesus We Are Here" Bach

Fugue in C Major               Buxtehude

Concerto                  Handel

Allegro from Symphony 6             Widor

Redemption         Franck

Scherzo from Symphony 2           Vierne

"Paix" from Seven Meditations on the Holy Spirit          Demessieux

"Dieu parmi nous"             Messiaen

Improvisation on submitted themes52

The recital was termed "a brilliant display of virtuoso technique" even though the "Handel Concerto was interrupted twice by a loud point d'orgue which had not been planned either by the composer or the performer, but Miss Demessieux did not appear to be flustered."53

A recital at the Cathedral in Washington, D.C. on March 15 at 8:30 p.m. included the following selections:

Toccata in F        Bach

Chorale Prelude                    Bach

Concerto No. 2                       Handel

B Minor Chorale                  Franck

Fantasy on "Ad nos, ad salutarem"          Liszt54

On March 18th Demessieux played the following recital on the 1927 E.M. Skinner organ at the Toledo Museum of Art:55

Fantasy and Fugue in G Minor                      J.S. Bach

Choral Prelude:                     "Blessed Jesus, We Are Here"                        J.S. Bach

Fugue in C Major               Dietrich Buxtehude

Concerto No. 10 in D Minor      G.F. Handel

Canon in B Minor              Robert Schumann

Fantasy on "Ad nos, ad salutarem"         Franz Liszt

Improvisation on a Submitted Theme56

Reviews of these recitals have not been located.

March 21st found Demessieux in Buffalo, playing at Holy Trinity Lutheran Church. Her program, similar to others on this tour, was as follows:

Fantasie and Fugue in G Minor                   J.S. Bach

Chorale: "Blessed Jesus, We Are Here"                  J.S.Bach

Fugue in C Major               Buxtehude

Tenth Concerto in D Minor       Handel

Canon in B Minor              Schumann

Redemption (Interlude Symphonique)                       Franck

Scherzo (Second Symphony)   Vierne

"Dogme" (from Seven Meditations sur le Saint Esprit [sic]       Jeanne Demessieux

"Paix" (Seven Meditations sur le Saint Esprit) [sic]      Demessieux

"God With Us"                       Messiaen

Improvisation on a submitted theme57

John W. Becker, director of music at Holy Trinity at the time of the recital, recalls:58

[It was] an excellently fine recital. There was a brilliant display of her pedal technique especially in her own pieces and her improvisation. I sat behind her in the chancel, the only one there who could see her feet and was amazed at the speed of the pedal passages. She wore VERY high heels and seemed to move her legs very little. Her ankles did the work and appeared to place her high heels where she wanted them with unfailing accuracy and incredible speed. Hers was a very efficient and, by American standard, an unusually personal pedal technique. It was quite a show!

Theolinda Boris reviewed the concert in Buffalo:59

The petite organist's playing gave abundant evidence of her mastery of her instrument and of her exceptional musicianship. In short, she is a virtuoso who is also an artist!

Few organists of note who have played here recently have achieved as much variety of color in registration without sacrificing any of the essential qualities of the various pieces. Still fewer have played with such beautiful clarity throughout an entire program, not excluding the heaviest passages.

In fact, it was this clarity that minimized the somewhat thick and sluggish sound of the organ. Everything under Mlle. Demessieux' fingers was crisp, so that even involved contrapuntal threads sounded with a truly admirable clearness.

Demessieux' rhythm had a wonderful vitality and her handling of melodic line and phrase was like that of a master violinist or sensitive singer. Singularly fine were the naturalness and legitimacy of her climaxes, which were never a mere piling up of thunderous and muddy sonorities. . . .

A very impressive improvisation concluded Mlle. Demessieux' already impressive recital. Using two themes submitted by Eric Dowling of St. George's Anglican Church, St. Catharine's, Ontario, she expertly fashioned a three-part piece, Passacaglia I, Interlude and Passacaglia II.

The 1955 American recital tour concluded at the Cathedral of St. John the Divine in New York City. Reflecting upon the past two months, Demessieux found the trip extremely fatiguing--hard not only on the mind but body. She found travelling for such a long time difficult in a country so different from Europe. She reflected again that concert life was very draining because it was necessary not only to travel, but also to make a good impression, to undergo inter- views, and to share her viewpoints concerning French art, while courteously receiving the general public.60

The 1958 American tour

The January 1958 issue of The Diapason announced:61

Jeanne Demessieux will arrive in New York on the S.S. Liberte January 27. The opening recital of her third American tour will be in Glen Falls, NY, January 31 at the First Presbyterian Church. In February she will be heard in Newark, NJ, Philadelphia, Nashville, St. Louis, Denver and will give recitals in California at Chico, Oakland, Sacramento, San Jose, and Los Angeles.

Recitals have also been arranged in Fort Worth, Charlotte, N.C., Macon, GA, Bloomington, Ind., Fort Wayne, Pittsburgh and New Haven. She will appear in Chicago at St. Peter's Church March 10 and at New York City's Central Presbyterian Church March 24, her final recital before her return to France March 26. Her programs will include several of her own compositions.

Demessieux was accompanied on this tour by her student Claudine Verchère, who acted as secretary. "The idea of being assisted in the thousand material details of the journey seems an incredible benefit to me."62

While practicing on the organ at the Cathedral of St. John the Divine in New York City, Demessieux tried her newly composed "Te Deum" which was inspired by that organ. After a rehearsal of the piece, she thought the composition was successful and was relieved to find it was what she had intended.63 Later that day, she travelled to Glen Falls, NY, for her opening recital on January 31 at First Presbyterian Church. The town welcomed her even to the point of putting her portrait in the entrance hall of the hotel!64 For this recital Demessieux played the following selections:

Ouverture from Cantata 29          J.S. Bach

Fantasy in G Major          J.S. Bach

Fantasy 2, F Minor           W.A. Mozart

Basse et dessus de trompette    Clerambault

Prelude and Fugue on B.A.C.H.                  Franz Liszt

Chorale-Prelude:"Attende Domine"      Jeanne Demessieux

from "L'ascension" III. Transports de joie d'une ame devant la gloire du Christ, qui est la sienne.  Olivier Messiaen

Improvisation on a submitted theme65

Demessieux later recorded in her diary that the concert was a success. She was personally satisfied with the impressive silence of a captive audience of 900 people. She was impressed with the five-manual organ because the organ pos- sessed good foundations, an array of mixtures, and Cavaillé-Coll reeds. She commented that the overall ensemble was rather good. She related one horror: the couplers on the Great division coupled at the fifth rather than the unison!66

Hugh Allen Wilson, organist at the First Presbyterian Church at the time of the recital, fondly recalls Demessieux. He was present for both the 1955 and 1958 recitals in Glens Falls and shares his memories:67

I remember these recitals and Jeanne very well. She was an angelic creature in her personality and played as few of her contemporaries could or did. She was a pupil of Dupré at the same time that I was working with him in Paris--1947.

We were all intrigued that she played in rather high heels--particularly in the wonderful little virtuoso piece by Berveiller--the Cadence. I do not bring to mind whether or not she was accompanied by a friend on both of her concerts here. She did have a companion on one I am sure. I met them at the train on her first tour and remember her astonishment that she found someone fluent in French in the great north of New York State.

Demessieux recalled an incident in New York in which Claudine Verchère found an organ nearby their hotel and tried it out. Demessieux made an interesting statement concerning her former teacher: "The organ, an 1930 Austin, is horrible, heavy, cinematic. It is what Dupré would love, unfortunately!"68

On the morning of February 8 Demessieux arrived in St. Louis, MO. The organist of the host church met her at the railway station and immediately took her to record an interview that was to be on the radio later that afternoon. Demessieux felt the interview went well, but she refused categorically to have journalistic photos taken and would not give out any official publicity photos.69

Demessieux's journal entry of February 9 is somewhat curious:70

The day begins with with a semi-dramatic, semi-comical episode. During my silent practice, I was distracted by another organ sound coming from the basement which hindered my concentration. Then, I thought of stuffing my ears with . . . tissues because I didn't have cotton balls. Later, I removed them tranquilly. This morning, in my shower, I became completely deaf in my right ear, a piece of cotton remaining in my ear had inflated with water. I imagined the concert!

While in St. Louis, Demessieux gave the following recital in Graham Memorial Chapel at Washington University on February 10:

Prelude and Fugue in D Major                       Bach

Chorale Prelude: "De Profundis"                 Bach

Concerto No. 2 in A Minor          Vivaldi-Bach

Pièce héroïque Franck

Mouvement         Berveiller

(First performance in the U.S.A.)

Prelude on "Rorate caeli"               Demessieux

Te Deum                 Demessieux

(First performance in the U.S.A.)

Improvisation on two submitted themes71

Ronald Arnatt, reviewer for The American Organist states:72

I do not hesitate to be lavish in my praise of Jeanne Demessieux since I can safely state that I have never attended an organ recital that I enjoyed more than this. Her superb technique was immediately evident in her performance of the Prelude and Fugue in D Major--this wonderfully light-hearted work seems to be paticularly suited to the French probably because it benefits from a crisp, clear touch and an unerring pedal technique, both of which are the standard equipment of French artists; however, it was not only technique that made this particular performance so fine. Mlle. Demessieux makes it possible, through her transparent phrasing, for the listener to follow each voice with such ease that one could almost be listening to a top-notch ensemble. In the hands of a lesser artist the tempo of the fugue would have been disastrous--in the hands (and feet) of Mlle. Demessieux the extremely fast tempo seemed completely natural and completely right. . . .

I knew from her recordings what to expect in her performance of the Vivaldi-Bach--clarity and extreme precision--and again was delighted by being able to hear every single moving part: her registration in the first movement was sparkling and her phrasing clear as crystal.

The Franck was a little disappointing to me since the tempo fluctuated so much, large rallentandi were inserted where there is no indication and a rather noisy registration was used most of the time. Franck was always very careful to mark exactly what he wanted in the way of dynamics and tempo changes and I cannot see why so many organists appear to feel that he made omissions in this respect. Regardless of personal opinion however, it was a brilliant performance.

These comments regarding Demessieux's performance of the Pièce héroïque are very interesting when the two traditions of Franck organ playing are considered. The strict performance style of Franck playing, illustrated by Dupré and Widor, can be contrasted to the freer interpretations of Tournemire and Langlais. Langlais believed that Dupré played Franck's compositions very simply and regularly, missing their true spirit. Dupré eliminated fermatas, removed many dynamic indications and changed registration markings in his editions of the Franck organ works. It is very possible that Demessieux followed Dupré's indications regarding registration and dynamics in the Pièce héroïque, but tempo fluctuations and large rallentandi appear antithetical to Dupré's teachings--perhaps she asserted some independence on this point. Whatever the analysis, Demessieux's overall concept of performance did not entirely please the reviewer.73

The U.S. premiere of Jean Berveiller's "Mouvement" was not well-received:74

The Berveiller is scarcely worth mentioning--cliches of the Boëllmann and Widor toccatas abound with a few pseudo-jazz rhythms inserted to make it sound a little more modern complete with the Gershwin minor triad and many bravura pedal passages. The performance was stunning, but what a waste of precious time.

As a composer Jeanne Demessieux is known mostly in this country for her Twelve Preludes on Gregorian Themes--short, finely wrought pieces showing a combination of contrapuntal mastery and lyrical warmth. The prelude on Rorate caeli is one of the loveliest of these with a distinctive style all her own, leaning less on impressionism than some of her compatriots. Here was an entirely different approach to a Gregorian chant, martial in mood, polytonal in influence and excitingly brilliant. The work falls into three main sections: the opening strong exposition, the quieter, more reflective middle section, and the powerful toccata-like ending, frighteningly difficult and jaggedly dissonant.

An interesting perspective regarding the concluding improvisation is given by the reviewer Ronald Arnatt, who himself wrote the themes upon which the improvisation was based:75

Then came the solemn ceremony of presenting the themes to the artist for her improvisation--like some sort of strange liturgical rite: I feel particularly embarrassed since I wrote the themes upon which her improvisation was based.

The first theme was repetitive and angular in 5/8, the second a modal, lyrical theme in 6/8: I did my best to keep in mind the type of theme that might appeal to Mlle. Demessiuex's particular style. The improvisation began in a mysterious mood using snatches of the first theme, then the theme was announced in full in her own style as easily as if she'd written it herself. The work fell into three sections, in a similar manner to the Te Deum, with the second theme used as a basis for the middle section. Much use was made of fugal imitation, especially with the second theme, and brilliant use was made of the two themes superimposed on one another with the second theme altered to fit the 5/8 rhythm. In the finale, instead of the usual thunderous ending heard so often, the ending was lyrical and mysterious with beautiful use made of the interchange of the two themes.

Jeanne Demessieux was received with great enthusiasm and was brought back many times to take a bow--fortunately she did not play an encore since anything played after her own three works would have been an anti-climax. One further point--think of what a masterful composition we would have heard if she could have selected her own theme for improvisation instead of being stuck with mine!

Demessieux recalls a crowd of 1200 at her recital in Denver, CO, on February 12. At intermission, the priest ascended to the pulpit and announced that the audience was free to stand up and stretch their legs. All the people rose in their places, causing Demessieux to smile. When they returned to their seats and sat down, she continued with the second half of the recital.76 Obviously, such an announcement by the priest would have been uncommon in France!

She travelled on to Chico, CA, for a recital at Bidwell Memorial Presbyterian Church on February 14 and played the following program:

I.

Ouverture from the 29th Cantata               J.S. Bach

Fantasy in G Major          J.S. Bach

Second Fantasy in F Minor        Mozart

Basse et dessus de trompette    Clerambault

II.

Prelude and Fugue on B-A-C-H                  F.Liszt

Chorale Prelude:"Attende Domine"      Jeanne Demessieux

Ascension Suite (3rd Movement) "Transports de joie d'une ame devant a gloire du

                        Christ qui est la sienne"                     Olivier Messiaen

III

Improvisation on a submitted theme77

In her diary Demessieux noted in passing that the 1931 Möller organ at Bidwell Memorial consisted of only 12 ranks!78 It seems amazing that this organ could handle her recital literature, especially the Liszt, which requires large changes in dynamics and colors. Demessieux's skill at registration was appreciated by Charles van Bronkhorst:79

A petite but astounding young lady from Paris has proved that a heavy program and a small instrument can indeed sell organ music to an audience of predominantly just-plain-music lovers. . . .

Mozart was a definite highlight . . . Opening with full organ sans reeds, the first allegro section was lively and clean cut, with plenty of appropriate accent. The andante provided Mlle. Demessieux her first real opportunity to make use of the limited color available in this 12-rank instrument, and she took full advantage of contrasts provided by Melodia, Oboe, Gamba, Voix Celeste and separately enclosed Great and Swell divisons. Also noteworthy were the delicate ornamentation and terrific pedal work, the latter accomplished in high heels as is customary for this young artist. The buildup to full in the final allegro was smooth as silk, growing in excitement and brilliance to the end. . . .

Liszt's dazzling opus, difficult on even a sizable instrument, was handled so beautifully that I never once wished for more organ. Despite less than an hour's practice on this instrument, Mlle. Demessieux was in perfect control at all times: registration, dynamics and technique were combined to yield maximum results, yet I was never distracted by body movement of any kind as is often the case in this particular work.

James Kinne of the Chico State College music faculty submitted two four-measure themes in D Major and 6/4 meter for the improvisation.80 The themes were given to Demessieux in a sealed envelope and she studied them for a brief moment and then proceeded to deliver one of her deservedly famous improvisations.81 Another reviewer felt:82

The themes were ideal--simple, but rhythmically alive. Mlle. Demessieux began with the theme stated by Great flutes over Swell string celeste, then proceeded to exploit both subject matter and organ to their fullest in some ten minutes of breathtaking free variation, a high-point being the appearance of the theme toward the end in upper pedals a la pizzicato over manual accompaniment. I heard Marcel Dupré improvise on submitted themes several years ago and was duly impressed but have never been as stimulated or musically satisfied as by this beautiful demonstration in the French tradition.

Several conclusions were reached by this reviewer as a result of Mlle. Demessieux's visit to Chico: 1) a great artist need make no musical compromises in order to satisfy an audience; 2) a small instrument adequately installed and maintained is no handicap to such an artist; and 3) any doubts that the Great division should be enclosed in an organ under 15 ranks were completely dispelled--one reason for the success of this program was a flexibility and control achieved by thoughtful and skillful use of the two swell shoes. The artist gave no encores despite excellent audience reaction and applause.

On February 16, Demessieux gave a recital at the First Presbyterian Church of Oakland, CA. Demessieux thought the evening was unforgettable and the audience very intelligent. The audience was so enthusiastic that she dared to play her "Te Deum" twice because the organ suited the composition perfectly.83 Program and reviews for this recital have not been located.

Her next recital was in Sacramento, CA, at the First Baptist Church and her program included:

Ouverture from the 29th Cantata               J.S. Bach

Fantasy in G Major          J.S. Bach

Second Fantasy in F Minor         Mozart

Basse et dessus de trompette    Clerambault

Prelude and Fugue "BACH"      F. Liszt

Choral-Prelude: "Attende Domine"       Jeanne Demessieux

Ascension:             Olivier Messiaen

Transports de joie d'une ame devant la gloire du Christ qui est la sienne"

Improvisation on a submitted theme84

Leland Ralph, organist of the First Baptist Church at the time of Demessieux's recital relates:85

Thirty plus years is a long time to remember every detail of her performance. However, I do remember that many of us felt it was a rather lackluster performance. Perhaps it was the instrument, or perhaps she was tired, I do not know. Too, so many of her selections had been performed so many times in recital here, that perhaps we were bored!! I do remember she was a delightful person.

On February 21 Demessieux played a recital in San Jose, CA, where the organ console was located in a pit so the audience could see only her head. She remarked that this time she didn't experience instant vertigo!86

On March 3, Demessieux travelled to Charlotte, NC, for an evening recital at Myers Park Methodist Church. The recital program was:

Overture from the 29th Cantata                   J.S. Bach

Fantasy in G Major          J.S. Bach

Second Fantasy in F Minor         Mozart

Basse et dessus de trompette    Clerambault

Prelude and Fugue on B-A-C-H                  F. Liszt

Choral-Prelude: Attende Domine"          Jeanne Demessieux

Ascension:             Olivier Messiaen

  "Transports de joie d'une ame devant le gloire du Christ qui est la sienne"

Improvisation on Submitted Themes87

Demessieux recalled a good concert and a magnificent audience. She reflected how uncomfortable she was at receptions where people burst into laughter, pause and notice suddenly that they are in front of you, then they say a few standard remarks to try to ease the tension.88.

On March 9, Demessieux performed in Bloomington, IN. She felt the organ console was too near the edge of the stage and asked someone from the church to reposition it. Unfortunately, the console did not get moved prior to the concert and she experienced vertigo! Despite the dizziness, she improvised a symphony of four movements on a submitted theme. She remarked that this improvisation was one of her better ones.89

Once again Demessieux was sponsored in recital by the Chicago Club of Women Organists on March 10 at St. Peter's Catholic Church. Frank Cunkle reviewed the concert:90

Mlle. Demessieux was not very happy with the medium-sized, unremarkable instrument, and neither her own back-breaking tour schedule nor the church's almost constant series of services helped at all to give her the time an organist needs to find an organ's strongest and weakest points and to persuade the stubborn beast to contribute only its good to the program.

Obviously, the reviewer did not know that Demessieux previously performed on the organ at St. Peter's during her 1955 recital tour. The program included the following selections:

Overture to Cantata 29                      Bach

Fantasie in G Major        Bach

Fantasie                     Mozart

Basse de dessus de trompette  Clérambault

"Outburst of Joy"                 Messiaen

"Attende Domine"             Demessieux

Te Deum                  Demessieux91

The review continues less than favorably:92

This preface already indicates that the recital this frail-looking Frenchwoman played did not provide an entirely satisfying evening. Mlle. Demessieux's command of the organ is extraordinary in many ways. She can play more correct notes per minute and in a more nearly metronomic rhythm than most of her contemporaries of either gender--no mean feat, certainly, and an important part of the armor of a virtuoso. How Mlle. Demessieux's predilections for thick, heavy registration sounds on French instruments, this reviewer has not had the opportunity to observe; the effect on our instruments is certainly neither to heighten the richness of harmonic texture nor to emphasize the linear architecture of great counterpoint. And her often mechanically perfect meter sometimes has the effect of making her rubato and ritenuto sound forced and out of place. The end result is too often absence of a flowing line and remarkably little feeling of artistic communication. . . .

This recital seemed to affirm to this listener that while American and German organists are playing better than their fathers and grandfathers, younger French organists are not yet succeeding in realizing the standards of musicianship, style and communication which made the last generation of French organ playing truly a "golden age."

On March 17, Demessieux played the following program at Woolsey Hall on the Yale University campus in New Haven, CT:

Prelude and Fugue in D Major                       Bach

Chorale: "De Profundis"                   Bach

Concerto in A Minor     Vivaldi-Bach

Pièce héroïque                         Franck

Mouvement         Berveiller

Chorale Prelude: "Rorate"             Demessieux

Te Deum                 Demessieux

Improvisation on a submitted theme93

 The reviewer, Barbara Owen, writes that:94

 . . . there was a large and enthusiastic house on hand to hear Mlle. Demessieux perform, and the remarkable lady from France did not let them down. . . . The D Major Prelude, perhaps because of its grand character, left little to be desired. The Fugue, on the other hand, was a bit too heavily registered and speedily played to be really satisfying, though I confess that its execution left me somewhat in awe of this woman's fantastically clean and accurate technique and excellent rhythmic sense.

The De Profundis was interestingly registered but cold. Perhaps as Schweitzer suggests it is because their culture and religious backgrounds are so different from Bach's, that the French seem rarely able to put across the more spiritual of the Bach chorale preludes. With the Vivaldi Concerto, however, she was back on solid ground and though her interpretation was again not the Baroque one it was nonetheless exciting.

From the first note of the Franck, it was obvious that Mlle. Demessieux had at last reached her real element and the writer cannot remember when she has heard such a pleasing performance of this frankly romantic warhorse. Here was 19th century French music unabashedly performed for what it is and on an ideally suited instrument.

Perhaps it was well that an intermission separated the 19th and 20th centuries. The Berveiller Mouvement, unlike some others of this composer's work, said what it had to say succinctly and interestingly, and is perhaps the most pleasing work I have yet to hear from this composer, whom Mlle. Demessieux has so zealously introduced to this country. Towards the end the composer suddenly breaks into an idiom which can only be described as jazz, and which here produces the same cold-shower effect that it does in his Epitaphe.

The improvisation was, as it often unhappily is, the dullest spot on the program. The theme submitted was a Gregorian chant Adoro te devote, which would seem an excellent vehicle. However, she did little with it, beginning with the usual meanderings over a solo melody, and building up to the inevitable climax replete with 64-foot stop and blazing reeds. At the conclusion, Mlle. Demessieux received a richly deserved and prolonged ovation, after which she returned for an encore, which turned out to be the inevitable French toccata.

Once again Demessieux's composure at the organ was noted by the audience and reviewer:95

A word should be said here about what might be called Mlle. Demessieux's console presence. Rarely, if ever, does one observe a European artist indulging in the ridiculous console gyrations so dear to the hearts of certain American recitalists bent on attracting the rock-and-roll set, yet in my corner of the balcony I could see a number of people who were sitting on the edges of their seats, and even standing, just to watch an organist who could tear flawlessly through the most difficult manual and pedal passages almost literally without batting an eyelash, and wearing high-heeled shoes at that (only other female organists will understand the import of this!) The sight of an organist sitting still and upright in the midst of a tumult of sound is to me more awe-inspiring than having to speculate on whether he or she is suffering from St. Vitus dance or an epileptic seizure.

On March 25, Demessieux returned to Central Presbyterian Church in New York to conclude her 1958 American recital tour and played the following program:

Overture, Cantata 29     Bach

Fantasie in G Major       Bach

Second Fantasie in F Minor        Mozart

Basse et dessus de trompette    Clérambault

Prelude and Fugue on BACH  Liszt

Chorale Prelude:"Attende Domine"      Demessieux

Te Deum                 Demessieux  (First Performance in U.S.A.)

Study in Thirds, No. 2  Demessieux

Transports de joie d'une ame devant la gloire du Christ                 Messiaen96

The review of the New York concert by Ray Berry begins:97

The young brilliant French artist gave a performance in New York which held to the incredible standards of technical excellence which she sets for herself in both playing and composing. In all departments, save perhaps one, Mlle. Demessieux is impeccable. Were I to find one fault, it would be that this program was not sufficiently relieved by music of a lighter character (which has nothing to do with inferiority), plus a certain warmness which could have been a bit more in evidence in interpretation.

The opening piece made a commanding demand on listeners' attention and was interpreted with stylistic integrity. The Bach Fantasie is practically never played in recital, for which I am not unduly surprised. Mozart was given an architecturally powerful concept which held the interest throughout. The charm of interpretation, as well as of the music itself, made the Clerambault especially welcome for it was one of the few light moments in the whole program. The Liszt was given a thrilling reading which captured all the excitement the composer intended.

Mlle. Demessieux as a composer is fascinating even though I suspect that there are some who feel her thoughts are not yet so fully matured as to include heart as equally as head . . . The choral prelude was that truly, and, had strength of spirit. The Te Deum made excellent use of dissonance in a fabulously difficult piece. For the benefit of those not familiar with this composer's Etudes, the thirds in question are in the pedal!! However, the elan and grace and effortlessness, with which this piece was tossed off, left this reporter breathless with amazement.

In this instance it took a French woman to interpret a Frenchman. Messiaen's Transports were a perfect, if slightly ear-shattering, close to an exciting evening.

While I cannot in all truth state that French organists completely match numerous American colleagues in the art of making music, I must of course admit readily that there are few if any who can match this charming young girl in sheer virtuosity. And this with unimpeachable deportment at the console almost to the point of shyness--but a shyness with clearly defined authority.

Her performance was so electrifying that despite the printed request for no applause there was spontaneous handclapping at the mid-point intermission which could not be ignored. With this as cue, the applause at the recital's conclusion was quite deafening.

This program was well designed and a complete entity. Therefore I was a bit annoyed that the usual improvisation demanded of French recitalists was tacked on to its end. Mlle. Demessieux attacked Searle Wright's interesting themes with care and imagination and made a fascinating work of art out of it, but . . . this 'art' is something we could do without--at least for a few seasons.

The 1958 American recital tour of Jeanne Demessieux, like the preceding tours, was a great success. Throughout the country, Demessieux played to full churches and was well received. Her technique, compositions and improvisations impressed and were applauded by the American public. This tour solidified her position as an international virtuoso. 

The significance of the American Tours

A number of American women organists, including Nita Akin, Claire Coci, and Catharine Crozier, made transcontinental recital tours of the United States in the 1950s, but few European women travelled across the Atlantic Ocean to perform organ recitals in North America. Through her American recital tours Jeanne Demessieux brought the French perspective of organ playing to the United States and dazzled audiences with her phenomenal technique. The tours of 1953, 1955, and 1958 were resounding successes and firmly established Demessieux as an international virtuoso. She demonstrated her skill at improvisation and introduced to American audiences a number of her own compositions and those of other French composers.

Demessieux's recitals were well received by reviewers and concert-goers alike. Audiences were impressed by her flawless pedal technique, particularly because of her high-heeled shoes, and her poise at the console. Not only was she a virtuoso organist, those who had personal contact with Demessieux found her to be a lovely and engaging person.

The American tours offered Demessieux the opportunity to perform some of her own organ compositions. On the 1953 tour she played various movements from her Six Etudes, including "Notes répétées," "Octaves," and "Tierces." The technical difficulty of these studies coupled with Demessieux's flawless execution amazed concert-goers. Also, on this premiere tour of America, Demessieux performed "Dogme" from Sept Méditations sur le Saint Esprit and introduced "Ubi caritas" from her Twelve Choral-Preludes. Although not all reviewers appreciated the compositional idioms of the twentieth century, Demessieux's compositions were generally well received by her concert audiences.

On her 1955 recital tour Demessieux often played "Paix" from her Sept Méditations sur le Saint Esprit and her three movement Triptyque. In 1958 she played more of her compositions, including "Attende domine" and "Rorate caeli" from Twelve Choral-Preludes, various movements from the Six Etudes, and the recently composed Te Deum, inspired by the organ at the church of St. John the Divine.

Not only did Demessieux perform her own compositions for the American public, she introduced organ works of other French composers. She paid homage to the French classical period in organ music by frequently performing the "Basse et dessus de trompette" of Clérambault on her 1958 tour. Numerous Franck works were played on all of her American tours--including Pastorale, A Minor Chorale, B Minor Chorale, Pièce héroïque, and a transcription of "Redemption" from Interlude symphonique.

Demessieux frequently performed compositions of the French symphonic organ school. She programmed "Variations" from Charles Marie Widor's Symphonie gothique, the "Allegro" from Symphony No. 6 of Widor, and the "Scherzo" from Louis Vierne's Symphony No. 2. Demessieux did not neglect compositions of her French contemporaries. She programmed "Les Rameaux" of Jean Langlais, along with Le banquet céleste, "Dieu parmi nous" from La Nativité du Seigneur, and "Transports de joie" from L'Ascension of Olivier Messiaen. Demessieux introduced into America many of the compositions of Jean Berveiller, her friend and colleague. Many times at least one work of Berveiller was programmed on every recital. She performed Berveiller's Cadence, Epitaphe, Mouvement, and "Intermezzo" from Suite.

Ironically, Demessieux performed few of the compositions of her maître Marcel Dupré on her American tours. Out of all the recital programs collected, only two programs from the tours presented a work of Dupré--"The World Awaiting the Savior" from Symphonie-Passion. She previously performed the majority of Dupré's works on her recital series at Pleyel Hall, so there is no doubt that the works were in her repertoire. Though the American public would have loved to hear her play his works, it seems that Demessieux preferred not to play Dupré's works in America.

Adhering to the French tradition, Demessieux concluded each recital with an improvisation based on a submitted theme. These improvisations took different forms depending on the character of the given themes. The forms Demessieux considered for her improvisations included symphony, variations, and prelude and fugue. Though some reviewers did not feel improvisations were necessary for the concert program, the majority of concert-goers were impressed by Demessieux's skill at improvisation and often compared her to Dupré.

Demessieux's diary entries for the American recital tours reveal that she enjoyed concert performing immensely and wished never to give it up. Unfortunately, she was not as comfortable with the constant personal demands of the concert artist. She did not enjoy the receptions, interviews, and dinners that she had to endure in every town.

The American recital tours of Jeanne Demessieux not only solidified her position as organ virtuoso and master of improvisation, but also introduced her compositions for organ to the American public. Surely, American organists and audiences of Demessieux's programs were greatly enriched by her phenomenal technique and the variety of literature that she performed in the United States.                    

Notes

                        1.                  For further information regarding the life of Demessieux, see Karen E. Ford, "Jeanne Demessieux," American Organist 26 (April 1992): 58–64.

                        2.                  The Diapason 43 (October 1952): 9.

                        3.                  American Organist 35 (November 1952): 389.

                        4.                 The Diapason 44 (January 1953): 1. For this and subsequent programs, the original language and forms of composers' names have been retained to reflect the style and spirit of the original program. Punctuation and capitalization have been standardized for consistency of presentation.

                        5.                  Paul V. Beckley, "Organist Plays 1,000 to 2,000 Works by Heart," New York Herald Tribune, February 1, 1953.

                        6.                  Jean Berveiller (d. 1976) was a French organist, composer and colleague of Demessieux. Throughout her American tours Demessieux programmed his organ works, which include Cadence, Epitaphe, Mouvement, and Suite in four movements. Cadence is a virtuostic pedal study dedicated to Demessieux.

                        7.                  The New York Times, February 1, 1953.

                        8.                  M. Searle Wright, "Jeanne Demessieux in American Début at New York Recital," The Diapason 44 (March 1953): 38.

                        9.                  T. Scott Buhrman, "Jeanne Demessieux Recital," American Organist 36 (February 1953): 59.

                        10.              Joseph Bonnet (1884–1944) studied organ with Guilmant at the Paris Conservatory, became titulaire at St. Eustache in 1906, and succeeded Guilmant as organist of the Concerts du Conservatoire in 1911. Bonnet made his American début in New York in 1917.

                        11.              Buhrman, 59.

                        12.              Wright, 38.

                        13.              Buhrman, 59.

                        14.              Buhrman, 60.

                        15.              Buhrman, 60.

                        16.              Wright, 38.

                        17.              Wright, 38.

                        18.              Buhrman, 60.

                        19.              Buhrman, 59.

                        20.              Christine Trieu-Colleney, Jeanne Demessieux: Une vie de lutte et de gloire (Avignon: Les Presses Universelles, 1977), 195.

                        21.              Trieu-Colleney, 195.

                        22.              Fred Lissfelt, "Organist's Recital Lauded," Pittsburgh Press, February 10. 1953.

                        23.              Lissfelt.

                        24.              "Paris Organist Will Play for Peorians Today at 4," Peoria [IL] Journal Star, February 15, 1953.

                        25.              Evabeth Miller, "Immense Organ Court is Played by Small Parisienne," Peoria [IL] Journal Star, February 16, 1953.

                        26.              Miller.

                        27.              Richard Montague, "News of the American Guild of Organists--Northern California," The Diapason 44 (April 1953): 14.

                        28.              Taken from original program.

                        29.              Virgil Thomson, Music Reviewed:  1940–1954 (New York: Vintage Books, 1967), 363–5.

30.              Letter from Fred Haley, Oklahoma City, OK, to Laura Ellis, March 12, 1991.

                        31.              Trieu-Colleney, 196.

                        32.              American Organist 37 (February 1954): 60.

                        33.              Trieu-Colleney, 198–9.

                        34.              Trieu-Colleney, 198–199.

                        35.              Taken from original program.

                        36.              T. Scott Buhrman, "Jeanne Demessieux Recital, American Organist 38 (March 1955): 85.

                        37.              Buhrman, 85–6.

                        38.              Trieu-Colleney, 200.

                        39.              Trieu-Colleney, 200.

                        40.              Trieu-Colleney, 201.

                        41.              Irene Bressler, "News of the American Guild of Organists--Harrisburg, PA," The Diapason 46 (April 1955): 15.

                        42.              Bressler.

                        43.              Bressler.

                        44.              Trieu-Colleney, 201.

                        45.              Trieu-Colleney, 201.

                        46.              Trieu-Colleney, 202.

                        47.              Trieu-Colleney, 202-3.

                        48.              Trieu-Colleney, 203.

                        49.              Demessieux performed "Redemption (Interlude-Symphonique)" throughout America on her 1955 tour. The program for this recital reveals that the idea of an organ transcription of this work was suggested by Mlle. Cecile Boutet de Monvel (1864–1940), cousin and interpreter of Franck. Demessieux played from the unpublished transcription of Jean Berveiller.

                        50.              Taken from original program.

                        51.              Trieu-Colleney, 204.

                        52.              The Diapason 46 (April 1955): 42.

                        53.              The Diapason 46 (April 1955): 42.

                        54.              Washington Post, March 13, 1955, H10.

                        55.              Taken from original program.

                        56.              Taken from original program.

                        57.              Taken from original program.

                        58.              Letter from John W. Becker, Pittsburgh, PA, to Laura Ellis, August 29, 1990.

                        59.              Theodolinda Boris, "Jeanne Demessieux Displays Artistry in Organ Recital," Buffalo [NY] Evening News, March 22, 1955, 26.

                        60.              Trieu-Colleney, 205–6.

                        61.              The Diapason 49 (January 1958): 2.

                        62.              Trieu-Colleney, 207.

                        63.              Trieu-Colleney, 207.

                        64.              Trieu-Colleney, 207.

                        65.              Taken from original program.

                        66.              Trieu-Colleney, 207

                        67.              Letter from Hugh Allen Wilson, Schenectady, NY, to Laura Ellis, January 6, 1991.

                        68.              Trieu-Colleney, 208.

                        69.              Trieu-Colleney, 210.

                        70.              Trieu-Colleney, 210.

                        71.              Ronald Arnatt, "Jeanne Demessieux, Graham Memorial Chapel, Washington University, St. Louis, MO, February 10, 1958," American Organist 41 (April 1958): 149.

                        72.              Arnatt.

                        73.              For further information regarding the French traditions of playing the organ works of César Franck, see Robert Sutherland Lord, "Conversation and Commentary with Jean Langlais," The Diapason 66 (March 1975): 3.

                        74.              Arnatt.

                        75.              Arnatt.

                        76.              Trieu-Colleney, 211

                        77.              Taken from original program.

                        78.              Trieu-Colleney, 211.

                        79.              Charles van Bronkhorst, "Jeanne Demessieux, Bidwell Memorial Presbyterian Church, Chico, CA, February 14," American Organist 41 (April 1958): 148.

                        80.              Bronkhorst.

                        81.              "Audience Enthusiastic Over Organ Recital," Chico [CA] Enterprise Record, February 15, 1958, 1.

                        82.              Bronkhorst, 148.

                        83.              Trieu-Colleney, 212.

                        84.              Taken from original program.

                        85.              Letter from G. Leland Ralph, Sacramento, CA, to Laura Ellis, August 27, 1990.

                        86.              Trieu-Colleney, 212.

                        87.              Taken from original program.

                        88.              Trieu-Colleney, 214.

                        89.              Trieu-Colleney, 216.

                        90.              Frank Cunkle, "Demessieux in Chicago," The Diapason 49 (April 1958): 16.

                        91.              Cunkle.

                        92.              Cunkle.

                        93.              Barbara Owen, "Jeanne Demessieux. Woolsey Hall, Yale University. New Haven, CT, March 17." American Organist 41 (June 1958): 223–4.

                        94.              Owen, 223.

                        95.              Owen.  

                        96.              Ray Berry, "Jeanne Demessieux. Central Presbyterian Church, New York, March 25," American Organist 41 (June 1958): 225.

                        97.              Berry.

Lorenz Maycher

Note: All letters, photos, articles, and other memorabilia used here are from the personal library of Dr. Alexander Boggs Ryan, housed at Trinity Episcopal Church, Longview, Texas, and Kilgore College, Kilgore, Texas. The letters were first publicly presented at the Gregg County Historical Society, Longview, Texas, by David Ford during the 2012 East Texas Pipe Organ Festival. All spelling and punctuation has been retained as found in the original letters.

 

Introduction

Marcel Dupré and Alexander Boggs Ryan—By one who knew them both

Marcel Dupré (1886–1971) had many American pupils, notable among whom were Emory Gallup, Carl Weinrich, Clarence Watters, and Dora Poteet. Although the foregoing were better suited to his approach than some others, there is no doubt that Clarence Watters and Dora Poteet were shining examples of his tradition and that they in turn passed this legacy on to their pupils in a way that insured reverence and respect.

Alexander Boggs Ryan (1928–1979) possessed an enviable and, in some ways, unique musical pedigree. Quite apart from his excellent piano background and well before he came to Dupré, he had received the Great Tradition (the Parisian organ school’s “apostolic succession”: Bach to Kittel to Rinck to Hesse to Lemmens to Guilmant & Widor and their pupils) from Dora Poteet Barclay. Helen Hewitt, one of Lynnwood Farnam’s pupils at the Curtis Institute, would become another early influence. (Although Farnam lacked a direct connection to the Parisian organ tradition, he was on intimate terms with many of its great lights. Farnam was in and out of many famous organ lofts and established bonds with Albert Dupré, Henri Mulet, and Charles Tournemire among others. He and the Duprés often met at Claude Johnson’s country house. As is well known, Vierne’s Sixth Symphony is dedicated to him.)

When Boggs arrived in Paris in 1952, Marcel Dupré was in the final years of his professorship at the Conservatoire. In previous decades his organ class included a glittering roll-call of greats, from Olivier Messiaen to Jeanne Demessieux, to name only two. In the immediate post-war period alone there had been, among the women, Françoise Renet, Marie-Madeleine Chevalier, and the fabulous Suzanne Chaisemartin; among the men, Pierre Labric, Jean Costa, and the unforgettable Pierre Cochereau. Beginning in 1954, Dupré would place the organ class in the hands of his faithful Rolande Falcinelli and assume the title of director of that august institution.

Much nonsense has been written and muttered-about concerning the so-called Olympian aloofness of Marcel Dupré but the facts, as well as the testimonies of his pupils, tell a very different story. It is true that the moment he began playing, one felt strongly the presence of an artistic giant—a god of music. In that respect his playing was quite unlike any other of my acquaintance. Privately, he was the most affectionate and loving master that one could possibly imagine, full of fatherly care for every aspect of one’s life and thought. High standards and unremitting work were necessary but he inspired and guided with a unique, genial humor and sweetness.

Boggs, I believe, was an almost ideal subject for study with Dupré. With his superb pianism (very important to the master) and his familiarity with the Parisian organ school, he was able to imbibe the maximum benefit from study in Meudon. Boggs’ fine Southern manners would have been appreciated by the Dupré family. In addition, he brought Dupré repertoire that would not have been part of the usual conservatory organ class drill (i.e., the Reubke Sonata). The notoriously miserable organ in the Salle d’Orgue had recently been replaced by a new, electric-action instrument. Dupré was able to provide this venue for Boggs’ début in 1953.

As a fitting coda to his years of study, Boggs earned his DMA at Ann Arbor in 1963. He studied with Helen Hewitt’s classmate, Robert Noehren, another member of Farnam’s celebrated Curtis organ class.* Marilyn Mason was also an influence, with her connection to Palmer Christian, a sometime pupil of both Straube and Guilmant.

Alexander Boggs Ryan had an acute sense that this great cloud of witnesses had contributed in many and various ways to his musical footprint. In my opinion, his best years as a player were, roughly speaking, a ten-year period from 1954 to 1964. Everything that he played seemed to contain a leading soprano line and cantabile legato, including Reger, a composer that benefited greatly from his relaxed, lyric approach. 

—Karl Watson

Staten Island, New York 

 

*In the years before his early death, Lynnwood Farnam taught the first organ class at the then newly founded Curtis Institute of Music. The members of the class were Lawrence Apgar, Robert Cato, Helen Hewitt, Alexander McCurdy, Robert Noehren, and Carl Weinrich. 

 

Letters

CONSERVATOIRE NATIONAL
DE MUSIQUE

PARIS, le 22 February 1955

14, RUE DE MADRID, 8E

LABORDE 20-80

LE DIRECTEUR

I have pleasure to state that Mr. Alexander Boggs Ryan who has studied organ with me during a year has proved a most interesting and satisfactory student. Through steady and intelligent work he has made continued progress. He has a fine brilliant technique and undeniable musical gifts.

He has been through an exhaustive repertory of classical and modern works with me and given a fine organ recital which has won him applause in the organ hall of the National Conservatory of music in Paris. Serious and earnest in his work, of perfect good-breeding, I am confident he will fulfil with distinction any post he may be entrusted with.

(signed) Marcel Dupré

 

§

 

40 BOULEVARD ANATOLE-FRANCE

MEUDON (S. &-O.)

November 12th 1961

My dear friend,

I returned from concerts in Germany last night and found your good letter for which many thanks. I was glad to hear your news about your work and activities.

I am sending you the photos dedicated. When I have a little time, I will look up whether I have the signature of Philipp and Widor, but I am leaving to-night for a concert tour in England and have still much work on hand.

The concert for Liszt’s commemoration was not a recital, but a concert with orchestra at Palais de Chaillot. Two transcriptions of mine for organ and orchestra were performed, with myself at the organ and the Pasdeloup orchestra: Fantasy on “ad nos” and the transcription of the piano work “St. Francois de Paule marchant sur les flots.” Both had a great success.

Yes, the long-playing record of Dora Poteet was sent to me. Her death has been a great sorrow for us. She was such a remarkable artist and a fine woman.

I also have the photo taken at St. Sulpice with Widor, Philipp and myself, but thank you all the same for your
kind thought.

I certainly was most happy about the wonderful reception I had in Detroit and it was so good to see again so many old students such as yourself and so many friends who had come from quite a distance.

With affectionate thoughts from Madame Dupré and myself and best wishes for continued success,

Yours ever,

(signed) Marcel Dupré

 

§

 

40 BOULEVARD ANATOLE-FRANCE

MEUDON (S. &-O.)

OBS. 14-45

March 27, 1962

My dear friend,

Many thanks for your letter. It was kind of you to write about the article on Alexandre Guilmant.

Thanks for the interesting programs you sent me and for the French program for your third recital.

I congratulate you on your recent fine appointment at Western Michigan University and am very happy to see that your hard work and talent are being acknowledged. I shall always be interested in the progress of your musical career.

The centenary of the organ of Saint-Sulpice will be commemorated on May 3rd. It was dedicated on April 29, 1862 by César Franck, Guilmant and Saint-Saens. So, I shall play some of their music, also my Passion-Symphony etc. The organ is always magnificent.

With warmest regards,

Sincerely,

(signed) Marcel Dupré

 

§

 

40 BOULEVARD ANATOLE-FRANCE

MEUDON (S. &-O.)

OBS. 14-45

April 25, 1962

My dear friend,

Many thanks for your kind letter, for the interesting programs you gave in New-York and for the photo at the organ in Detroit. I am returning the other two which I have inscribed according to your wish.

With every good wish,

Cordially,

(signed) Marcel Dupré

 

P. S. In 1956, I recorded several works for the Westminster Co. on the St. Sulpice organ, among which my “Stations of the Cross.” I know the Company has had financial difficulties, and I have, of course, never got any royalties, but this is not what I am concerned about. I have written to them to inquire whether my “Stations of the Cross” were available, but they never replied. The recording of that big work means a lot to me and I should be more than sorry if my work came to nothing.

Do you know anything about it or could you kindly make some inquiries? Many thanks in advance.

 

§

 

40 BOULEVARD ANATOLE-FRANCE

MEUDON (S. &-O.)

OBS. 14-45

May 10th 1962

My dear friend,

Many thanks for your letters and for the information about the Westminster Co. and their successor. I am writing to them.

How kind of you to have got my “Stations of the Cross” as a gift to me. I shall let you know when the record comes. I have the two other records.

I am sending you the program of the St. Sulpice organ centenary. The concert was a tremendous success. Thousands packed the church and the organ sounded more gloriously than ever.

Concerning the rebuild of Notre-Dame, the rebuild is not completed yet. The new console has been connected with the organ, but the combinations are not ready yet, nor the new stops. So, at the present moment, but for the new console, the organ is as it was.

As for Saint-Sulpice, I keep my own beautiful console and organ as they are, as they were when I started playing there as Widor’s assistant over fifty years ago.

I am sorry not to be able to send you a program of the bi-centennial of Liszt, but I have none left.

With kindest regards and best wishes,

Yours cordially,

(signed) Marcel Dupré

 

§

 

40 BOULEVARD ANATOLE-FRANCE

MEUDON (S. &-O.)

OBS. 14-45

October 14, 1962

My dear friend,

I am just back from Holland, where I gave four recitals during the week and find your letter, for which I thank you. I am delighted to hear you are doing so well both in your teaching and concerts. Thanks for the interesting clippings you sent.

I am glad to hear you will play at Rockefeller Chapel, Chicago during Lent. Such a magnificent organ! I shall think of you playing my “Stations.”

As regards the Variations of the Symphonie Gothique, it was Widor’s wish that one of them, the Canon in trio form, should be omitted. He considered it as too scholastic, so I always complied with his wish.

When I write to Marriott, I will certainly put in a good word about you.

You inquire about my activities? The next will be the performance of my Oratorio, “La France au Calvaire,” for choir, soloists, organ and orchestra, at Palais de Chaillot on November 4th at the Pasdeloup concerts.

Then I am leaving for Switzerland on November 10th. I have another busy year ahead. A new organ work of mine will be released this month.

We both keep in the best of health.

With every good wish,

Cordially,

(signed) Marcel Dupré

 

§

 

Tuesday, 12 February 1963

Dear M. Dupré:

This is my first communication to you in 1963, and I trust that this finds you and Mme. Dupré feeling well and busily engaged in activities that you both love so much.

We have had a terrible winter so far: much more snow than in former record years. I’m not used to it, of course, originating from Texas, but am confronted with the facts at hand.

I hope to finish my Doctorate at the University of Michigan by June. I’m working on my third and final recital, which will be all French. It includes some of your “Stations” as well as your “Noel Variations.” In addition, I’m preparing a document on all three recitals, which will contain program notes and an analysis of some 30 works.

Is M. Legouix (the second-hand music dealer) still alive? The reason I ask is that, when I studied with you ten years ago, I bought a considerable amount of music from him in rare editions—mostly German publications that had long been out of print. At that time I studied the Reubke “Sonata” with you, which I performed at the Conservatoire. I tried to locate an “original” of that work, originally published by J. Schuberth & Co., Leipzig. This organ-work was not among Legouix’s holdings at the time, although he promised to get me a copy. I have never heard from him since.

Now, the point is this: I would like, if possible, to get these compositions from Legouix. They are all works by Julius Reubke, and would be helpful in the preparation of my document. They include piano works, also. They are the following, and I’d appreciate your giving M. Legouix a call on the phone in order that he might make some inquiries for me. For this favor, I’d be
most appreciative:

Titles, as they appear in German:

Organ: 1) Sonate in c moll. Der 94ste Psalm. J. Schuberth

Piano: 2) Sonate in c moll. Der 94ste Psalm. Edition Cotta

(transcribed for piano by August Stradal, Stuttgart, 1926)

Piano: 3) Sonate in B moll. J. Schuberth

Piano: 4) Scherzo (not certain of publisher, probably J. Schuberth)

The above enumeration indicates one copy of each, as to get will take some work on the part of M. Legouix.

Cher maître, I realize that you are a busy man. If you do not have time to attend to this for me, just send me the address of M. Legouix. I don’t have it, or would write to him direct.

Am off for recitals in Chicago, Wichita (Kansas), Columbus (Ohio), and New York City during March and April. Wish me luck.

Sincerely,

(signed) Alexander Boggs Ryan

 

P. S. I forgot to tell you. My information states that Stradal also made an organ edition of the Reubke “Sonata,” in which he made some corrections (notes) indicated by Liszt. This was also Edition Cotta, and I’m interested in this, too. So tell Legouix about it. Thanks.

 

§

 

40 BOULEVARD ANATOLE-FRANCE

MEUDON (S. &-O.)

OBS. 14-45

March 18th, 1963

My dear friend,

I apologize for this belated answer to your letter, but we have been away a good deal.

We found Legouix address, which is:

4 Rue CHAUVEAU-LAGARDE

8e

Madame Dupré called at the shop this afternoon and was received by Madame Legouix from whom she heard that her husband died seven years ago accidentally. But she is carrying on his work with some help. She could not tell me whether she had the works you ask for, but is going to make some research and let me know. She took my phone number and has your list of works in hand.

So, as soon as I have some news, I will let you know.

Cordially yours,

(signed) Marcel Dupré

 

§

 

40 BOULEVARD ANATOLE-FRANCE

MEUDON (S. &-O.)

OBS. 14-45

October 2, 1963

My dear friend,

As soon as your letter of August 7 arrived I wrote to Madame Legouix saying you had never heard from her and asking whether she had been able to find any of the rare editions you wanted.

Her reply to my letter came yesterday only. (She may have been away during the summer vacation.) A very short reply it was as you may see, at the back of the first letter you wrote in February. (“With my apologies for not finding this.” L. Legouix) I am sorry it will prove disappointing for you.

Our most sincere congratulations on your Doctor’s degree from the University of Michigan.

We were shocked to hear about Parvin Titus’ terrible accident but were somewhat relieved when we were told recently by Mr. Cunkle, the editor of “The Diapason,” that he was getting better. But his poor wife!

With affectionate regards from both,

(signed) J. Dupré

 

§

 

December 3, 1963

M. and Mme. Marcel Dupré

40, Boulevard Anatole France

Meudon, S.- et - O.

France

My dear friends :

It is with a sense of extreme regret that I have just read of the passing of your daughter, Marguerite, on October 26, 1963. I had no idea that she had been desperately ill, and there was no indication of this in Mme. Dupré’s letter of early October.

Herefore, please accept my sincerest sympathies in this your hour of extreme sorrow. Please convey to Marguerite’s husband and her children my heartfelt shock upon receiving this news.

I am looking forward to seeing you next summer, as I contemplate my first trip to Europe in ten years.

Very sincerely,

Dr. Alexander Boggs Ryan

Chairman of the Organ Dept.

Assistant Professor of Music

Western Michigan University

ABR/leh

 

P. S. In as much as Marguerite and the late Dora Poteet Barclay were close friends some twenty-five years ago, I shall inform Dora’s husband of this tragedy; for surely he will want to write to you.

 

§

 

40 BOULEVARD ANATOLE-FRANCE

MEUDON (S. &-O.)

OBS. 14-45

January 6, 1964

Dear friend,

Many thanks for your letter of sympathy in our great sorrow. We are heart-broken, for our beloved Marguerite always filled our lives with happiness. Life will never be the same again for us. But we have to go on for the dear children she has left us.

Mr. Dupré is very courageous, though, and has resumed all his duties. Music helps us and I am always looking forward to St. Sulpice on Sundays.

We are going next week to Frankfurt, where a group of organists is to give a concert of M. Dupré’s works, and the day before, he will be giving a recital of French music.

We have read the programs you sent us with great interest, always touched about your devotion to your master’s music.

Affectionately Yours,

J. Dupré

 

§

 

Mr. & Mme. Marcel Dupré

40, BOULEVARD ANATOLE 

FRANCE

MEUDON (S. &-O.)

Telephone 14-45

Observatoire

Undated handwritten notecard

Dear friend,

Many thanks for your nice card and for the interesting press notices. We are happy to know your concerts are so successful. We both keep well and Mr. Dupré is as busy as ever with concert playing, composition and teaching. He has made some new recordings for Philips recently—a disc of Bach Chorales.

 

§

 

40 BOULEVARD ANATOLE-FRANCE

92 – MEUDON

027-14-45

Friday 23 July 1971

My dear friend,

Your letter reached me this morning and I was profoundly moved by all you wrote from your heart. Yes, I have received letters and telegrams by hundreds from all over the world and am far from having answered them all. But yours, which came apart, gets this returned answer.

The sudden passing away of my beloved husband was a terrible shock. On Whit-Sunday, May 30th, he was playing his two masses at St. Sulpice, ending at 12 o’clock with an improvisation on the Easter Alleluia which a friend had requested, and a few hours later, at the end of the afternoon, all was over. After St. Sulpice, we had driven back home, had a quiet lunch together, then he read his Sunday paper and said suddenly: “I feel a little cold; I am going to lie down on my bed.” Shortly after, he lost consciousness and passed without any pain. When the Doctors arrived, there was nothing to be done; rupture of abdominal aneurism.

I am heart-broken. After our many years spent together in such close union, the loss of that wonderful companion, so great, but so simple, so kind, so loving is so hard to bear. 

But I thank God for his peaceful end, a blessing for him, this end he deserved after his great life of devotion to his art, to his students, to his friends, and his humanity. Everybody loved him. 

I try to get some strength from so many happy memories of our life, particularly from the very last ones. On April 22, he played for the last time in London, at the Albert Hall for the celebration of the centenary of the Hall in which he had given his first concert abroad in a concert hall fifty years before, in December 1920. He had such an ovation from the impressive crowd: 7000 people. We were both deeply moved. I am sorry I have no programs of the Albert Hall.

Then for his 85th birthday, there was a most moving evening at St. Sulpice: his oratorio “De Profundis” was sung during the first hour, then a big group of his former pupils at the Conservatoire where he had taught for 28 years, gathered around him in the centre of the church; Messiaen, Langlais, Cochereau, Mme. Durufle, etc., etc., read beautiful tributes before him.

A week later, on May 13th, Rolande Falcinelli who succeeded him as the head of the organ class when he was appointed Director of the Conservatoire gave a recital with his 2nd Symphony and he concluded the recital by a great improvisation.

The funeral took place at St. Sulpice on June 3rd, in the packed church. The service was so beautiful, with the Requiem Gregorian Mass which I had requested.

He was buried in our little cemetery in Meudon, a few minutes from our home, with our darling Marguerite. We both used to go to her grave every day. Now I go alone until I join them.

Marguerite was our only child. The girl you saw at the concert last year was a cousin from Rouen.

Now, I am trying to be courageous for my three grandchildren, all three students and who still need me. They are sweet kids and their grandfather loved them so.

With many thanks for your sympathy,

Sadly Yours,

J. Marcel-Dupré

 

P. S. I don’t get The Diapason and would be so grateful if you would send me a clipping of the article.

 

§

 

French Institute

(Institut de France)

Academy of Arts

(Académie des Beaux-Arts)

Funeral of Marcel Dupré,

Member of the Musical Composition division,

held in St. Sulpice Church

Paris, 3rd June 1971.

 

ORATIONS

By

M. Jacques Carlu,

President of the Académie des Beaux-Arts

And

M. Emmanuel Bondeville,

Permanent Secretary of the Académie des Beaux-Arts

 

Paris,

MCMLXXI

Institute publication

Printers to the Institute:

1971 No. 13

Firmin-Didot & Co.

Rue Jacob 56.

 

ORATION

by

M. Jacques Carlu

President of the Académie des Beaux-Arts

Madame,

My dear colleagues,

Ladies and Gentlemen,

It is with deep emotion that I come here today, bringing in the name of the whole Académie des Beaux-Arts, a last farewell to our illustrious colleague and friend Marcel Dupré, who has been taken away so suddenly from the affectionate companionship of his family and his countless disciples and admirers.

On this sad day, it is not only the French Institute and our society which shares your mourning, Madame, but also the whole world of music or as one can truly put it, all the musicians in the world, for, in the unanimous opinion of his peers, Marcel Dupré must be classed in the first rank among musicians, composers and organists of all time.

Member of the music division of the Académie des Beaux-Arts 15 years, he was one of the most remarkable figures in its long history.

Without any doubt Dupré was a great artist, as his whole life and career bear witness, and his immense musical output will presently be described for us by his lifelong friend and companion, and fellow native of Rouen, our permanent secretary, the musician Emmanuel Bondeville, with all his wide knowledge and the brotherly affection he felt for the musician who has passed away.

But one didn’t have to be a musician to admire Marcel Dupré, for although not everyone is gifted with a good ear, you only needed to have a heart in order to love the man.

For among all those who in many countries have drawn near to Marcel Dupré, is there a single one who could forget the man, the friend, or the master? He was so innately good and infinitely gracious, always ready to share the fruits of his experience and his immense talent.

Whatever the circumstances he could never be selfish or insensible—his natural and unvarying kindliness would not allow it. So the great artist Marcel Dupré was surrounded by much admiration and loving respect among all the circles he frequented.

Rarely can France have possessed a better ambassador for the art and culture of our country, hence the warmth of the welcome which greeted him on his numerous tours abroad, especially in the United States.

Happily he is not dead altogether since a large part of himself will never pass away. Then Death, where is thy victory? For he will pass through this supreme test and emerge still greater; and the glorious reputation which he leaves us is as the sun shining from the world beyond the grave.

Thinking of the life of the soul in the kingdom of shade which is now his, where is the new Paul Valery who can describe for us in the style of “Eupalinos” the fascinating discussions which Marcel Dupré will be able to have with his well-loved J. S. Bach, and with all the giants of music whom he will meet in the Elysian Fields.

For us, it remains to measure the enormous void created by the disappearance of our dear and illustrious colleague. One can succeed to the post of a Marcel Dupré, but one can never replace him.

In this day of sadness, Madame, may I express to you and your children the deep and sorrowing sympathy felt by the members of the Academy of Arts, all of whom share your grief. But as the great Christian orator Massillon, who belonged to the Academy more than two centuries ago and whose statue stands before us in this Square of Saint-Sulpice, said in one of his famous sermons: “the feelings which a sudden death arouse in our hearts are feelings of a day of grief, as though death itself was a matter of a single day.”

Dear Marcel Dupré, our friend and colleague, you rest assured that our grief will be unending.

 

ORATION

pronounced by

M. Emmanuel BONDEVILLE

Permanent Secretary of the Académie des Beaux-Arts

Madame,

My dear Colleagues,

Ladies and Gentlemen,

How can one call to mind the great figure of Marcel Dupré without recapitulating the main stages of the career which marked his astonishing and ineluctable ascendance?

He had this great privilege of the strong, of following with sureness the ordained path, climbing it with firm undeviating steps, and reaching the higher summits by an unbroken ascending curve.

He always remained close to his roots. The rue du Vert-Buisson, at Rouen, was an excellent musical centre. The province and regions provide generous facilities for the arts, for study, practice, and the faith which gives life meaning and nobility.

Albert Dupré, the organist of St. Ouen, which possesses one of the finest organs in France, used to run a choral society “Perfect Harmony” (L’Accord Parfait), which enabled the music-lovers of Rouen to become familiar with the masterpieces of music, notably the great works of Bach. His wife, Alice Dupré, a cellist, possessed a lively musical intelligence.

In such a home, an exceptionally gifted child found the most favourable climate possible for the flowering of his talents. Without having frequented that blessed dwelling, called simply “le Vert-Buisson” (the green bush)—the name of the street—by the people of Rouen, one could not possibly assess how much ardour, hard work, and faith, the love of a difficult art can muster in order to achieve the most important objectives, which are to arouse curiosity, to consolidate knowledge, and to create enthusiasm.

For his enlightened parents applied the utmost care in nourishing the talent of Marcel Dupré, which declared itself early. At the age of twelve, he performed the opening recital on the organ at the church of St. Vivien. He soon became a living legend for the young musicians of the town. My mother was always talking to me about him, with the ardour of an admiring music-lover, who hoped to inspire her young offspring at an early age with sound reasons for working, hoping, and admiring in his turn.

These reasons quickly multiplied. Recitals succeeded one another, keeping always the same high standard of perfection. Prizes accumulated, marking the fruits of a complete musical training, including as they did prizes for performance on the piano and the organ, and the Grand Prix de Rome for composition. At the same time, to hear Marcel Dupré praising the teaching of Guilmant and Widor, was a lesson in their contribution to music, but it was also a lesson in modesty, a spiritual quality which this great man never forsook.

In spite of these successes, which gave as much pleasure to those who loved him as they did to himself, an even higher summit was to be reached in 1920, when Marcel Dupré played in ten recitals the whole of the organ works of John Sebastian Bach, from memory.

This wasn’t merely a feat of stupendous prowess, but a manifestation of something even greater, for Marcel Dupré had performed these recitals with the meticulous care which he insisted on applying to every act, whether of interpretation or of creation. “Do you know,” said his father one day to me, “that before giving these recitals, Marcel consulted all the editions, and all the available manuscripts of the works of Bach, particularly those in the Berlin library?”

The news of these concerts was to spread like lightning. One of the most impressive figures of the art of sound had revealed himself.

At the same time, Marcel Dupré brought the art of improvisation to an undreamt of level of proficiency. Here, too, there was no room for mere facility. A rigorous mastery led to fullness of expression. Each work revealed the fathomless resources offered by a simple theme, but instead of this result being achieved by patient work at the desk, the edifice of sound sprang forth from an act of spontaneous creation.

It is true that the act of improvisation had had some impressive exponents. César Franck had made an unforgettable impression on those who heard his improvisations on the organ at St. Clothilde during the Magnificat.

Dupré’s teacher, Widor, was equally admired. But his pupil’s contribution gave the king of instruments a still greater primacy. Alone of instruments, the organ enables a single player to build a whole cathedral of sound on the spot, using a variety of tone colours to rival the orchestra. As he unceasingly developed his talent, Marcel Dupré attained a breadth of expression hitherto unknown.

His tours of America began at that time, and soon set the seal on his reputation as the premier French organist; he amazed his transatlantic audience by improvising a complete symphony in four movements for the first time in the history of organ music.

He knew fame. This manifested itself in many ways, sometimes the most unexpected and simple ways, which were all the more moving, like the time when a young Australian came to work in my family and asked, on her arrival, “Where can one hear the organist Marcel Dupré?”

The composer didn’t relinquish his work. Rarely can the improviser and the composer have been so perfectly matched as in the person of Marcel Dupré, for his spontaneous impulses, like his reflective and poignant meditations, were as perfect as the written composition.

To list his works, which ranged from the instrumental solo to the lyrical fresco, would take up the whole of this speech. In any case there is available for reference the very thorough bibliographical study by his learned pupil, Canon Robert Delestre. But, to continue along our path in the company of the Master, we can halt at the Preludes and Fugues, which, composed as early as 1912, represent an astonishing enrichment of organ technique.

Speaking of these works, Marcel Dupré, the innovator, fully master of his bold strokes of composition, said “All I did was to follow Bach’s example . . . There’s no place for academicism in fugue, whatever one may think.”

In subsequent works, the “Suite Bretonne,” the “Symphonie-Passion,” the “Chemin de la Croix,” he went on to develop more fully this rich style of composition, to cite a few examples, for his extremely orderly mind yet found room for bold experiment. A short time ago, reading through scores by young composers, he showed me the interest which lay in examining new techniques by listening for their structure, their quest for new sounds.

Very early, the main lines of his life were set. With what mastery he mapped out his route! He was never to deviate from the chosen path: he embellished it continually.

The former pupil of Diemer, of Guilmant, and of Widor was to become Professor of Organ at the Conservatoire and Director of the illustrious institution.

What were his merits as a teacher? We have no need to enumerate them. On the 7th May last, at St. Sulpice, after hearing his “De Profundis,” his former pupils paid him homage and their famous names show that the continuity of his work and mission are assured.

A few weeks ago, he went back to Rouen and visited again the house of his parents, “le Vert Buisson,” and played the organ at St Ouen.

The world’s most glittering successes had never altered his affection for those he always revered, his family. He always spoke of them with moving tenderness.

He was so discreet and secret in his inmost thoughts that, in order to know him well, one had to be favoured with his affection. How his face shone when he spoke of his family. He expressed himself then with a contained warmth which was stronger than loud bursts of sound, for this master of sound was also master of his heart. When he gave his affection, how comforting was his welcome! Whether it was in his joyful home at Saint-Valery-en-Caux or the great organ room at Meudon, his arms were wide open to welcome those who in their turn followed the same path. They knew, of course, that a superior being was receiving them. 

The rarest gifts were magnified by an uncompromising conscience, and a strict application to work, so as to achieve a constant elevation of talent and thought. Those of us who have sat next to him on the organ bench at St. Sulpice know what is genius.

His finest praise was spoken by his former pupil, now famous, Olivier Messiaen, who, speaking of his master, Marcel Dupré, called him “the modern Liszt.”

Liszt, the noblest figure in the history of music, a generous spirit and a discoverer of new sounds—he combined a stupendous virtuosity with compositions which broke new ground in their development of the resources of music. Let us keep in our minds this brief and complete tribute.

When his admirers mourn him all over the world, you, Madame, who have been his attentive and so much loved partner in life, will receive the greatest comfort from his hands. You know that his name will remain what he made it—that of one of the greatest of men.

40 BOULEVARD ANATOLE-FRANCE

92—MEUDON

027-14-45

May 26, 1972

Dear friend,

Many thanks for your good letter from Hamburg. I will be happy to see you during your short visit in Paris.

Will you come to Meudon on Monday May 29, about 3 p. m. You have got a train from Montparnasse station at 2:51 p.m.

Nearly a year has elapsed since my beloved husband left us. This month of May with all its last-memories of our life is so sad!

With affectionate wishes,

J. Marcel Dupré

 

Special thanks to Linda Ryan Thomas; to Trinity Episcopal Church, Longview, Texas, Bill Bane, organist-choirmaster; and to Kilgore College, Kilgore, Texas, Dr. William Holda, president, and Jeanne Johnson, chair of music and dance, for allowing access to Alexander Boggs Ryan’s complete personal library, and for granting permission to reprint these letters and memorabilia.

Lorenz Maycher is organist-choirmaster at First Presbyterian Church, Kilgore, Texas, and founding director of the East Texas Pipe Organ Festival. He is a frequent contributor to The Diapason, which has published his interviews with Thomas Richner, William Teague, Nora Williams, Albert Russell, and Robert Town, as well as his series of articles “From the Clarence Dickinson Collection.” Maycher is also director of the Vermont Organ Academy, a website promoting articles and recordings devoted to the Aeolian-Skinner legacy.

Karl Watson was a pupil of Alexander McCurdy at the Curtis Institute and, during 1970, of Marcel Dupré in Meudon. He has served both Protestant and Catholic churches on the East Coast. 

Donna M. Walters

Donna M. Walters is a graduate of Marywood University and holds a master’s degree in musicology and vocal performance. She is presently a music instructor at Hanover Area High School in Pennsylvania, and is the author of a book of children’s poetry entitled “Dreamland Memories.” Mrs. Walters has been in “Who’s Who in American Education,” “Who’s Who in American Teachers,” and “Who’s Who in American Women.” Currently the music director for St. Casimir’s Church in Hanover Township, she lives in Pennsylvania with her husband Joseph.

Henri Mulet was born in the Eighteenth District of Paris, France, on October 17, 1878 at eight o’ clock in the evening. He was right-handed and grew to a height of five feet, six and one-half inches. Because of his birth date, he is considered a Middle-Impressionist composer. His parents, Gabriel Leon Mulet and Blanche Victoire Patie Mulet, were Catholic. They were considered first-rate performers, but neither of them composed. Gabriel was a pianist, a singer, and director of the choir at the Basilique du Sacré-Coeur. Blanche was a professor of piano, a singer and an organist at the harmonium of the Basilique. Henri had a brother named Gabriel who died in Paris at the age of sixteen. The brother was quite intelligent and had received a bachelor’s degree by the time of his death. Henri received his early musical training from both his parents, including harmonium and piano lessons from his mother. He began to study the violoncello shortly after he began piano lessons. Other than the piano lessons he received from his mother, he did not continue his study of the piano and remained an average player throughout his life.1

Early life
Around 1888, Mulet began to substitute for his mother, playing the Benediction at the Basilique. He eventually succeeded his mother at the harmonium, but the position had a major drawback: the Basilique was still under construction and every time that rain fell, Mulet had to play beneath an umbrella. He hated the experience so much that later in life, whenever he heard the harmonium he would flee. Because of the great musical ability he displayed as a child, Mulet was enrolled at the Paris Conservatory around 1889. At this time, he was in the solfège class of Paul Rougnon. Rougnon found Mulet to have exceptional talent and enrolled him in the violoncello class of Jules Delsart, one of the most famous cellists of the time. Mulet was also a classmate of the virtuoso cellist Paul Bazilaire. The jury members were Salome, the organ composer, and the arranger
J. B. Weckerlin, whose Bergerette album for voice is still in print.2
In 1891, Mulet won the second prize for solfège. In 1892, he won the first accompaniment prize for violoncello. In 1893, the first three prizes for violoncello were awarded to Mulet (first), Herouard, and Hasselmann. Mulet was not happy with the prize because he felt that all he had to do to win was imitate his teacher. He no longer had an interest in the violoncello, because he felt that one had to be a “showoff” to be a great cellist and he flatly refused to go along with this idea. Even though he stopped taking lessons, he continued to play the cello until he was eighteen. At that time, he became interested in composition.
While at the Paris Conservatory, Mulet played the cello at concerts in the Theatre du Chatelet. Jules Delsart had formed a student trio consisting of a violinist (unknown), a cellist (Mulet), and a pianist (Alfred Cortot). They performed in prestigious homes in Paris, Rouen, and Versailles. Mulet also accompanied his parents when they sang at boarding houses to entertain the other guests who were on holiday at the seashore.

First compositional period
In autumn 1893, Mulet enrolled in the organ class of Widor (for which Vierne was a substitute) and the improvisation class of Guilmant. Widor was considered to be the best organist of the time and was thus nicknamed “The Emperor.” Between 1893 and 1896, Mulet studied composition and orchestration with Widor and harmony with composers Pugno and Leroux. In 1896, Mulet won the first prize in harmony. In 1897, he won the second prize for organ and improvisation. Vierne, in his memoirs, said that Mulet was “rattled by nerves” and that he could have won first prize had he not been. The jury members for this contest were Cesar Franck’s students Dallier and Pierné and the composers Samuel Rousseau, Pugno, and Gabriel Fauré. Although Mulet never knew Fauré personally, he greatly admired him. Also in 1897, Henri was employed by the Church of St. Pierre-du-Petit-Montrouge.3
In 1901 and 1902, Mulet played many recitals and organ dedications in Paris, the French countryside, and in Belgium. Mulet’s favorite composer was César Franck, and he played Franck’s works as often as he could. He also admired the Widor symphonies and played them often. (The Widor symphonies that are played today are the 1914 to 1918 revisions, which were published in 1920. Mulet played only the original versions).

Second compositional period
In 1902, Mulet ceased most of his activity with the outside world. A trip to Lombardy, Italy, during an August holiday may have had some bearing on this decision. His compositions also changed quite drastically. He was hostile to the changes and innovations of the twentieth century, and his style remained strongly rooted in the symphonic organ of Cavaillé-Coll of the nineteenth century. It was during this period that Mulet composed his Esquisses Byzantines (Byzantine Sketches), one of his most famous works. He spent the majority of his time in church meditating and playing the organ. He spoke little with his friends, who referred to him from this point as being secretive and mystical.
Mulet left his position at St. Pierre-du-Petit-Montrouge sometime in 1901, but because of the periodic destruction of church records, the exact dates of Mulet’s church positions are difficult to determine. After his position at St. Pierre-du-Petit-Montrouge, he held the position of organist at St. Marie-des-Batignolles, apparently until sometime in 1904. At some point in 1905, Mulet became the choir organist at St. Eustache, a post he held until 1907. He was joined at this time by Joseph Bonnet, who was also employed as another organist by the church. In 1907, Mulet became the organist at St. Roch. The organ, a two-manual instrument, had a direct influence on Mulet’s compositions. His writing from this period shows less intensity, but greater artistry. Up to this point, Mulet’s scores displayed an interest in calligraphy. Many of his titles were done in ornate script. After this time, it appears that he had lost interest in the subject.

Third compositional period
Around 1909, Mulet was associating with another composer, Albert Perilhou, who was a student of and a companion to Saint-Saëns. He may have met Perilhou through his friend Libert. In this same year, Mulet tried his hand at conducting the St. Nationale Orchestra. At that time, anyone who had both a score and the parts was allowed to conduct. The orchestra consisted of some eighty performers from the Colonne, Lamoreaux and the Schola Cantorum orchestras. Felix Raugel, who played the violin, said that Mulet was an excellent conductor and that he never let his nerves show while conducting; however, his autograph scores have all of the tempi re-marked in gigantic letters written in crayon. Mulet conducted only the St. Nationale Orchestra and only the premieres of his own compositions. He conducted between 1909 and 1914, the greater portion of his premieres taking place between 1909 and 1911. After the St. Nationale concerts had run their course, Mulet’s works were heard at the Colonne, Lamoreaux, and Inghelbrecht concerts. Désiré-Émile Inghelbrecht (1880–1965) was the most important instrumental conductor of the time, and he promoted Mulet’s works more than any other conductor. On many occasions, he conducted Mulet’s works for radio concerts.
By 1909, Mulet’s social life consisted of attending intellectual gatherings comprising mostly teachers of English literature, religion, architecture, history, and music. The gatherings were held in private homes, and the guests were merely acquaintances and not close friends.
In 1910, Henri became a member of the Society des Auteurs, Compositeurs et Editeurs de Musique. He was admitted through Widor and Inghelbrecht. After July 1, 1910, Henri met the famous choral conductor Felix Raugel at the home of Libert. Raugel, a former student of Libert, became Henri’s second closest friend. Raugel said of Henri: “ . . . he hardly ever spoke, and he was very reserved and mystical.” He never knew Henri’s entire compositional output because Henri never spoke of his music. Raugel greatly appreciated what little he understood of Henri and was eager to write several articles about him for various dictionaries. He also conducted Henri’s early choral work, Laudate Dominum, quite often at St. Eustache and St. Honoré d’Eylan. Raugel said that he had also heard Mulet improvise and that he was expert at it.

Married life
It was at one of these gatherings that Mulet met his future wife, Isabelle Marie Board Rochereau. She was born in Lougne in the département of Maine-et-Loire on August 7, 1878. After their initial meeting, Isabelle joined the choir of St. Roch so that she could see Henri quite often. She also saw Mulet conduct in 1909 and was very impressed. Henri courted Isabelle for about one year, and they were married at St. Elizabeth’s Church, Place de la Republique in the Eleventh District of Paris on July 12, 1910. The organist at the wedding ceremony was Joseph Boulnois, to whom Marcel Dupré dedicated the third Prelude and Fugue from his opus 7. The Mulets seemed to have chosen this church out of convenience, as their address after the marriage was 28 Place de la Republique. Prior to his marriage, Henri’s address was 26 rue du 4 Septembre, Paris 2.
Within a year of the marriage, Henri composed four orchestral sketches that he intended to orchestrate. When the sketches were finished, he went to see about conducting one of his works and was flatly refused. Raugel said, “ . . . after 1910, it became more difficult to conduct or to have one’s pieces performed by an orchestra.”4 Because of this, Mulet stopped composing in 1911. Raugel continues, “Prior to 1911, if one felt talented, he had only to climb to the podium.” This is how Berlioz, Busser, Messager, Pasdeloup, Colonne, Lamoreaux, Rheue-Baton, Inghelbrecht, Gaubert, and he (Raugel) started. During the time of Gaubert, conducting classes were introduced.
In 1911, Mulet transcribed the four sketches along with an earlier unperformed orchestral work for the harmonium in a desperate attempt to have his music performed. He submitted some of these pieces to a publisher of religious music, Abbot Delepine, who liked Mulet’s music, and the two became friends.Henri’s student, Henri Heurtel, stated that Isabelle could have pushed Henri to compose after 1911, but she saw no reason for doing so. Isabelle was not a musician, did not understand music, and had no interest in it. She did, however, have an interest in business and, at some time between 1911 and 1913, she convinced Henri to open a real estate office. Henri, however, had no talent for business, and it quickly failed.
Isabelle and her husband did not go out a great deal after they were married. Her explanation for this was that Henri had done many things before the marriage; he did, however, take her to see one opera (Felix Raugel said that Henri sometimes went to hear the performances by the Society of Concerts).5 Henri also forbade Isabelle to dance, which she never understood, but she respected his wishes. At some point, Henri acquired a practice pipe organ so that he no longer had to practice at the churches where he was employed. Because Henri did his practicing at home, Isabelle offered this as an explanation as to why Henri did not marry a musician. She said, “You must understand that a man like my husband who often had to stay home to work on the organ pieces that he played every Sunday at the eleven o’ clock mass could not marry a piano teacher or a singing teacher. He did not like to work on his organ studies while having, in the next room, the stumbling playing or singing of a pupil.”6 At the time of his marriage, Henri still had his cello, although he had not played it for some years. Sometime afterward, he apparently gave it to his former classmate, Hasselmann.

The mystic, Mulet
Mulet improvised in the manner of César Franck. The Mulets and the Raugels often had lunch at the Liberts’ home, and the Raugels also accompanied the Mulets on their month-long holidays in August. Henri owned a small Renault, and he always did the driving. Raugel said that they always visited the scenic rural areas. The countryside had a profound affect upon Henri’s composing.7
When Henri premiered his Fantasie Pastorale, a symphonic poem for orchestra, on May 20, 1911, a review in the Comœdia Illustré stated that it was “the most interesting of the new works, containing spontaneity, drive, vigor, and pace. The work was quite dramatic, developed, and descriptive; moreover, it was well-orchestrated, calling up impressions Mulet felt upon looking at the countryside of the Haute Durance.” The motto of the work is also quoted, “Smiling in the sun or tragic under the storm.” This composition is the best remembered of the missing works. Raugel stated that after Mulet ceased to compose in 1911, he amused himself with his thought and would sit, meditating, without saying anything. He was very reticent and months and years went by in silence.

The Niedermeyer School
From 1911–1922 and from 1922–1936, Henri was employed at St. Phillipe-du-Roule, apparently in two different positions. In 1913, Henri became a professor at the Niedermeyer School in Paris. He acquired the position through Libert, who was teaching piano there. At the time that Henri joined the faculty, the school was being run by Niedermeyer’s granddaughter and her husband, Henry Heurtel, and by his grandson, Lefebvre. The Heurtels had eight children who assisted in administrative duties. At one time, Gabriel Fauré was connected to the school, and the Niedermeyers were very close to him. Fauré was godfather to one of the Heurtel daughters.
Two of the Heurtels’ eight children studied the organ with Mulet: Henri Heurtel and one of his sisters. Henri was the only student of Mulet’s that Isabelle ever knew. She knew the Heurtel family and was invited by Mrs. Heurtel to visit. Apart from the Raugels, the Liberts, and the Heurtels, Isabelle appears to have met very few of Mulet’s professional friends and acquaintances. She never met Joseph Bonnet, despite his and Mulet’s close friendship.
At the Niedermeyer School, Henri taught organ, cello, and solfège. He was noted for his ability to sing solfège, but he never sang anything else. He had even directed choirs without singing a note, a practice also carried out by Raugel. He gave only a few cello lessons at the school and never played at these lessons. This practice stemmed from his bitterness at having imitated Delsart’s playing. He never lost the fear that his students would imitate him and he always said, “You must not imitate anyone; you must be personal.”8
Even though the Niedermeyer School had a varied curriculum, it was considered primarily a school for serious organists. When Henri joined the faculty, its members did not speak with one another; however, Mulet’s earlier acquaintance, Bellenot, and a friend, Albert Perilhou, taught there as well. Henri Heurtel said that nothing was known of the teachers’ private lives because they never discussed their affairs with their students; however, Felix Raugel said that Perilhou was a former student of and companion to Saint-Saëns. He states that Saint-Saëns would visit Perilhou at the Church of St. Severin, where the latter was organist. Saint-Saëns would seat himself at the organ and, at seventy years of age, would improvise like a young man. Raugel also said that Saint-Saëns would improvise an entire fantasy. Additionally, Raugel stated that even though Saint-Saëns had a great talent for improvisation, he hated César Franck and remained envious of Franck until he died. Raugel said that Franck’s music did not become popular until 1900, and the more that Franck’s music was performed, the more bitter Saint-Saëns became.9
Another teacher at the Niedermeyer School was Henri Dallier, who had studied with Franck. It is surprising that Mulet and Dallier remained only acquaintances, because Dallier primarily played Franck’s music, which Henri greatly admired. Dallier’s students called him “The Terror of the Pedals.” Dallier had been a concert pianist and would tell his students that the fourth finger is the most important aspect of playing. Dallier eventually adopted the mystic style of Mulet; when this occurred, he was rejected by his composition students at the Paris Conservatory. They labeled him a bore.
Henri Heurtel, who appears to have been Mulet’s most successful student, said, “Mulet was always very reserved and quiet and never talked about himself or about other people. It was difficult to know what he was thinking about anyone. Mulet never boasted about the success of having his orchestral works performed at the great concerts, and he never talked outside of lessons. He was very witty and joked with a straight face.”10 According to Heurtel, Henri was an excellent organ professor. He never allowed a student to go on with a piece if there was one wrong note. As with cello lessons, he never played the organ for his students. Mulet said, “The secret to learning a piece (he used the Bach Fantasy and Fugue as an example) is to let it ripen,” meaning to work it out for a long time with great care. He also told his students that to play in church, a repertoire of at least fifty major compositions was necessary. Henri’s best-remembered quotation was “Time is precious, for tomorrow you will be seventy years old.”11

Final appearance as conductor
In 1937, Heurtel succeeded Libert as organist at the Basilica of St. Denis and held that position until 1977. Libert had held the post from 1896 to 1937. On May 17, 1914, Mulet made his final appearance as a conductor with the premiere of Le Talion, a song written in declamatory style. It was sung by Georges Mary, a baritone whom Mulet frequently employed for his oratorio concerts. As Mulet became older, he became more and more demanding of his students, to the point that they did not want to attend lessons. Henri Heurtel’s sister would beg her mother to “ . . . spare her this torture.” Her brother said that she cried at every lesson; but one day, she did exactly what Mulet wanted and they became good friends. He used to call her “The Princess.”

Mulet’s bitterness
Heurtel stated that Henri’s bitterness was a result of his observation that high art was on the decline, principally because the younger organists broke the tradition of playing legato at an allegro tempo. Mulet remained strongly enmeshed in the style of the symphonic Cavaillé-Coll organ of the nineteenth century. He detested the playing of Marcel Dupré and considered Joseph Bonnet to be one of the last performers to play the organ correctly with excellent technique. Heurtel himself stated that “ . . . modern performers get drunk on the speed they can attain by using the wrong approach.”12
Two additional things that affected Mulet are revealed in an incident that occurred when Henri Heurtel’s mother questioned Mulet as to why he gave up composing. Mulet was said to have lost his great reserve, showed great bitterness and replied, “ . . . cartloads of music in France are waiting to be played and published. It is not worth the trouble of writing if the music will not be played.”
After 1918, it was very difficult to have music published in France. Raugel said that all of the Parisian musicians ignored Mulet’s music, and he came to hate Paris. After 1911, Mulet displayed a rather overwhelming bitterness. Isabelle Mulet said that Henri never discussed any of these affairs with her. They had no children, and each had their own separate lifestyles. She said that her husband loved her very much, but she never completely understood him. She said of Henri, “ . . . he was like in a dream-world, and later, feeling that he had failed, Henri became even more withdrawn.” She added that he was never really content. The only time that he appeared to be happy was when he was driving somewhere or was on holiday. Isabelle said that driving gave him the greatest pleasure and only then did he become relaxed and sociable; otherwise, he remained very much to himself.13
Around 1914, the Mulets moved to the town of Triel-sur-Seine, which is about thirty-five kilometers from Paris. Between 1914 and 1924, Henri, who had no relatives outside of Paris, rarely returned to the city, except when he visited his paternal grandfather. These visits were infrequent. In 1914, Vierne dedicated his Canon (No. 6 from Twenty-four Pieces in Free Style for Harmonium and Organ) to Mulet. This appears to be the only published work ever dedicated to him.

Mulet’s lectures
Sometime between the 26th and the 31st of July in 1921, Henri gave two lectures to the General Congress of Sacred Music, which took place in Strasbourg, Germany. The members included many Parisian musicians including Raugel, Gabriel Pierné, Henri Rabauch, Samuel Rosseau, Eugène Gigout (who also taught at the Niedermeyer School), and Vincent D’Indy. One lecture dealt solely with the technical placement of pistons on organ consoles and the pitch arrangements for mixtures, the other was titled “The Harmful and Anti-religious Tendencies of the Organ.” This lecture dealt with the so-called “French Registration” and attacked some other items including the tremolo. Below is an excerpt of that lecture:

The Harmful and Anti-religious
Tendencies of the Organ
by Henri Mulet
It is very probable that the invention of the organ occurred from the need that one try to imitate the wind instruments by mechanical means, undoubtedly to save the human soul. The result was rather satisfactory, but it contained a surprise: an inert sound. The inertia of the sound of the organ is its fuel, it is accompanied by homogeneity of duration, of intense stability and creates a sound in the world a world apart. Those who like the Organ like its inertia. If the Organ were not inert any more, it would not be the Organ. The Organ recalls the timbre of certain instruments. It does not imitate them. This is not its role. It has better to do. It is self-sufficient because it is as rich as the richest orchestra. The orchestra is a painting; the organ is stained glass. Its sounds of calmness, imposing and seizing, bathe the atmosphere of our cathedrals; just as the lights of our stained glass, sharp as well as ever so soft, induce faithful meditation. Like stained glass, the organ has its colors. One can say, if one wanted, that the flutes are blue, the reeds red, the pleins jeux yellow, the cornets purple, and the gambas green. As in the stained glass, this inertia precisely constitutes the base of any beauty of the organ. If it did not exist, it would have to be invented. Also, it is necessary to deplore the fact that, from time immemorial, it was people who, not appreciative of this beautiful inertia of the sound, always worked to fight it.
The tremolo does not have any other origin than this, but its beats, being always equal to themselves, produce another kind of inertia which without the good qualities all claimed, has only the disadvantages of primitive inertia.
Fortunately, there are a few organists in France who love the organ in the old manner, who never play transcriptions (such as the overture to Tannhauser) and who will not allow our stained glass to be demolished in order to put in its place a sort of “cinema-organ-orchestra,” the organ of the Antichrist. These orchestral tendencies are, moreover, illogical and one is in vain pursuit of a phantom.
Imitating instruments, even perfectly, is not at all the same as imitating the orchestra. Even if, impossibly, the inertia of sound were completely overcome, you would still have to execute the notes. Those who are generous enough to believe that this has been accomplished make us think that they have never read an orchestra score.
In order to merely play the notes, we would have to have 20 hands and as many keyboards. To make the nuances, we would need at least 20 swell boxes. Even then, it would not be exact, because the instruments of the orchestra change timbre when they change intensity. You can close an organ trumpet in a box, but it will never be a true trumpet pianissimo.14

Mulet, the organist
In 1921, Mulet left his post at St. Roch and the following year became the titular organist at St. Phillipe-du-Roule. He played all of his organ works at this church on a Cavaillé-Coll-Mutin built in 1903. It was noted by the abbot of St. Philippe that Mulet’s playing was well-appreciated among the parishioners.
Shortly after Mulet accepted this position, his student, Henri Heurtel, became his assistant for one year, pulling stops for Mulet’s performances. This seems odd, since Mulet lectured against having an assistant while performing. Heurtel said that Mulet always practiced at home and no one but Isabelle knew how much time he spent at the organ. While at his post at St. Philippe, Mulet improvised to fill in the gaps at the services. Heurtel said that he never improvised a prelude or a postlude. Heurtel questioned Mulet as to how one learned to improvise. Henri answered that, “ . . . one has to be born with the gift of improvisation which cannot be learned under any circumstances.” Henri was in disagreement with what Dupré and others termed “improvising.” He felt that improvising was spontaneous, and that the performer developed ideas immediately, rarely remembering what he had played. Raugel said, “ . . . when Dupré was in his early twenties, he could improvise only short stanzas. He planned everything in advance and memorized it. On one of his early concert tours, he declined to improvise, something that one possessing the true gift would never do.”
The late composer, Georges Migot (1891–1976), who was a contemporary of the last of the French Impressionists, confirms this: “ . . . none of them (referring to Dupré and others) could improvise spontaneously; everything was planned in advance.” Vierne wrote of Mulet, “ . . . Mulet of St.-Phillipe-du-Roule, was a musical personality of the sharpest. He was a solid virtuoso and a beautiful improviser. . . . Mulet has written some very significant pieces which have justly become part of the repertoire for very serious organists.” Isabelle Mulet said of her husband, “ . . . if he had written down all of the improvisations that he played on different occasions, he would have been renowned.”
In 1922, Paul Bedouin became the choir organist at St. Phillipe-du-Roule. Bedouin, who was also a pianist, was a student of Vierne and Gigout and knew Felix Raugel. Despite Bedouin’s association with Mulet’s colleagues, he said that he did not see Mulet often at that time.During the summer of 1923, Mulet met the Canadian-born organist Lynnwood Farnam (1885–1930) through his friend, Libert. Farnam was to achieve considerable success in the United States, especially in New York City. Farnam was studying with Libert while the latter was assisting Widor at the Conservatory of Fontainebleau. Also, at this time, Mulet had his photograph taken with American organist and conductor, Albert Riemenschneider (1878–1950), who often vacationed in France. It seems likely that Mulet knew Riemenschneider from the time that Albert studied with Widor and Guilmant.
From 1924 to 1931, Mulet taught at the Schola Cantorum in Paris as well as at the Niedermeyer School. He may also have done some substitute teaching at the Conservatory of Fontainebleau, but this has not been substantiated. During this time, Mulet received correspondence from two parishioners of St. Phillipe-du-Roule. One, dated January 26, 1926 reads:

Sir:
I should like to ask you for some information. I should be very grateful if you could give it to me. Though I have not had the honor of meeting you, I have often had the pleasure of hearing you play on Sundays at St. Phillipe’s. Last Sunday, January 24th, you played a piece which I would like to know the name of. It must be by Franck, probably.
Thanking you in advance,
I remain very truly yours,
Y. Reul
RSVP
PS. You played the piece in question at the end of the 10:30 mass.

The other letter, which is not dated, reads:

Mr. Georges Thomas would be very grateful to the organist of St. Phillipe-du-Roule for the title of the piece which he played in a most charming manner, on Sunday, January 8th at the 11:30 mass right after the sermon; and requests, if this is not too much trouble, to ask that he leave the title for him at No. 1 Courcelles Street, just a step or two from St. Philippe’s.

(This card was probably written in 1928, as January 8th fell on a Sunday in that year).
In June of 1927, Mulet donated his practice organ to the Gothic church of St. Martin in Triel-sur-Seine. Both Raugel and he gave a dedicatory concert on Sunday, June 26, 1927. Mulet played César Franck’s Choral No. 3, J. S. Bach’s Prelude in E Minor, an excerpt from Widor’s Seventh Symphony, and the Buxtehude Fugue in C Major. Raugel then directed the choir from St. Eustache in works by Pitoni, Marcello, Copulet, Fauré, and Psalm Fifteen by Franck.
Around 1928, the publisher Emile Leduc went with his son, Gilbert, to Triel-sur-Seine to meet with Mulet. (The Leduc Publishing House was founded by Alphonse Leduc in 1848 and was taken over by Emile in 1904 after Alphonse’s death.) Raugel said that Mulet had been at odds with the publishing company for years. When the Esquisses Byzantines was published in 1920, Mulet was given a seventy-dollar advance payment for royalties, but he was never paid another penny, despite the fact that thousands of copies of the collection had been sold. Mulet was well aware of the sales, because Leduc had to file them with the French Composer’s Society. Raugel said that Mulet was like a “shorn lamb” and that composers who dealt with Leduc had to “know how to defend themselves.”15
The April 30, 1930 issue of Le Monde Musicale contained an article about Mulet written by Charles Tournemire: “Henri Mulet, strange and great artist, caught up by a mystical ideal. Calm improviser, sometimes lively, religious. Artist worthy of the Middle Ages, which, in his case, does not exclude the feeling of understanding modern art. Mysterious thinker.”
In 1932, a student of César Franck’s, Louis de Serres, founded the Ecole César Franck. Mulet taught there sometime between 1932 and 1937, along with his friends Vierne, Bonnet, and Bedouin. Felix Raugel said that Mulet made use of Marcel Dupré’s compositions for teaching purposes and that he appreciated their technical properties, especially the ostinati; however, Raugel further states that Mulet found little aesthetic worth in these pieces and refused to play them.16 In 1934, Mulet left the Niedermeyer School because it was too difficult for him to climb the hill on which it stood. The school continued to operate until the end of World War II, when it ran out of funds.
During the 1930s, Bedouin frequently visited the Mulets at his home. Bedouin wrote, “He (Mulet) always greeted me in a very friendly manner when I used to go with my little family to visit him at Triel-sur-Seine where he lived.”17 At some point, Mulet met the famed teacher, Nadia Boulanger. She said of Mulet that she did not really know him, but when they were introduced, “He was that most cordial one.” She added that his talent was widely recognized.18
In 1936, Désiré Inghelbrecht directed Mulet’s Petit Suite sur des Airs Populaires Français, which was played by Inghelbrecht’s radio orchestra. A postcard sent to Mulet by the orchestra’s secretary reads:
15 July 1936
Dear Sir:
Your Petit Suite sur des Airs Populaires Français will conclude the program of the Federal Broadcast of Tuesday, July 21st. Mr. Inghelbrecht has set the rehearsals of your work as follows: Saturday, July 18th at 9:00 AM Salle Gareau and the following Tuesday, the 21st after the intermission, Salle Gareau, also, that is to say at 10:45 AM. At the dress rehearsal in the afternoon, he will see the whole program in order, that is to say that you will be on supposedly toward 4:30 PM. Since the concert is public, I will have at your disposal the number of tickets that you might desire.19

After the performance, Inghelbrecht returned this score to Mulet along with two other orchestral works entitled Souvenirs de Lorin Bardie. Inghelbrecht appears to have had possession of these scores from 1911 until 1936. Also in 1936, Mulet had a small article written about him in an unidentified American music magazine. Mulet kept a copy of the article, which was written by a Dr. G. Bedart. It proved to be quite inaccurate except for his having quoted Mulet as hating “Vainglory.” (In 1921, Mulet had lectured against an article that Bedart had written, labeling Bedart as a “careless thinker.”)

Retirement
In 1937, Mulet felt forced to retire from his musical life in Paris. His feelings of failure coupled with his notion that the “moderns” did not question the validity of ideas were both prevailing influences in his decision; but the final blow came from the church authorities of St. Phillipe-du-Roule. Mulet was informed that “modern” music was favored in place of Franck, Widor, Bach, Buxtehude, or any other master composer whose works were in the standard organ repertoire. By coincidence, Mulet received an inheritance at this time, and he officially retired from St. Philippe on Easter Sunday, March 28, 1937. The postlude was Widor’s Toccata from the Fifth Symphony. Michael Boulnois, the son of organist Joseph Boulnois, was hired to succeed Mulet. He was present at the Easter service and said that Mulet played the Toccata brilliantly.
Before leaving Paris, Mulet gave all of his keyboard music to Paul Bedouin. Bedouin said the music was more or less ruined from having been used so frequently. Mulet gave the three orchestral scores returned by Inghelbrecht in 1936 to Raugel in the hope that he (Raugel) could get them performed.
After his retirement, Henri moved with his wife, her sister, and her mother to a small home in Draguignan, which is in Provence. Their home overlooked the beach at Frejus on the Mediterranean Sea. Before moving, Mulet had added his new address to the title page of his orchestral work Dans le Vallée du Tombeau (In the Valley of the Tomb). “Dans” is an interesting piece to choose to list what was to be the last place where Mulet would live.

The final move
Henri then became the organist at the Cathedral of Draguignan—a position that, for Mulet, proved to be an ordeal, because the organ contained every one of the faults that he had argued against in his 1931 lecture. The instrument was a two-manual Merklin built in 1888. It was unified and did not have one mixture or one mutation rank and the pedalboard only went up to D2. Henri called this organ “The Bagpipes.” While at Draguignan, Henri wrote only to Raugel and Bedouin. Libert had died in 1937, and his position at St. Denis was given to Henri Heurtel, the student of both Libert and Mulet. Of Henri’s correspondence, only one letter has been preserved. It was sent to Felix Raugel, who said that this was the only letter in which Henri exposed his thoughts, although Raugel did not seem to understand it completely:
7 August 1946
My Very Dear Friend,
Three times you have written me and I have not answered! I am very ashamed and I ask your forgiveness. I am down in the dumps, a depression as big as an elephant, and this is what has kept me from writing because it stops up my brain.
You are singing the Lamentations. I don’t have the courage to sing the Ténèbre. Silence alone . . .
All that, after all, is of no importance and surely happens for our greater good. Is it to keep us from missing the life of this lower world? Perhaps, but in any case, this is the result.
We are going to die tomorrow, our agony is long and hard, but the important thing is to have our passport in order. All the rest is beneath our attention. Let us forget, then, the earth and especially its horrible inhabitants. And let us think of that “other world” where the sea is no longer. But I think that there will be beautiful lakes and beautiful mountains and no radio [referred to as T.S.F. . . . Mulet did not like the change to popular music on the radio!]. To reach it we travel in fourth class, at least! But we are being too difficult.
I’ve received nothing from Leduc. He said that he would send the E. B. [Esquisses Byzantines] but he has done nothing about it. He is worthy of being a Dracenois [interpreted by Raugel as being a resident of Draguignan] but it is of no great misfortune and if you meet him, you can tell him that I don’t give a damn . . . [written je m’en f . . . ] Doubtless I would not have done anything about it. Rework them, these pieces? I would not have had the courage because that would be so useless. [Mulet was asked to rewrite his E.B. so that Leduc could gain a new copyright on the collection.] The “Bagpipes” [the Merklin organ] here does not interest me at all and for me it is a punishment (or penance) to go to work there every Sunday. I do it only as penance, just as I do everything else.
Take courage, salvation is perhaps nearer than we think. My best wishes to both of you, Henri Mulet. [Oddly, in the letter, the body is very clear, yet the signature is nearly illegible.]

In 1955, Mulet found a summer home for Paul Bedouin in Draguignan, where Bedouin visited Mulet every summer. Because Bedouin visited every season, he and Mulet did not correspond. Despite their long friendship, Bedouin said that Mulet was a mystic and that he (Mulet) never confided in him. Bedouin summed up their relationship by saying that “Henri Mulet, in spite of his kindness, his willingness to please, never completely abandoned a certain reserve. He did not give himself willingly. He was an interior man.”20
In 1956, the Cathedral of Draguignan was closed for major renovation; consequently, Henri faced another retirement. Isabelle’s sister and mother appear to have died before 1959. In that year, Henri became quite ill and needed the assistance of a cane for mobility. He had dizzy spells and, at one time, he fell his entire length on the ground. Later, he had no memory of the dizzy spell or the fall. Because of this incident, the Mulets moved to the convent of the Little Sisters of the Poor in Draquine between late October and December of 1959. Henri had become so ill after his arrival that he was unable to play. It was discovered that Henri was also afflicted with otosclerosis, a genetic illness which causes the bone in the inner ear to grow. This disease will eventually cause deafness, a ringing in the ears and a softening of the voice. At that time, there was no cure.
Henri remained ill for seven years. The Little Sisters said that during this time he cared only about his wife whom he loved very much. On the morning of September 20, 1967, Henri complained of back pain and his doctor was unable to offer him any relief. At nine o’clock AM, he muttered “I am dying,” and he had a dizzy spell during which he lost consciousness. The doctors were unable to revive him and he died at 10:45 AM. Isabelle said that she believed that he died of an internal hemorrhage. He was buried at the local cemetery in Draguignan. Raugel said that Henri died in silence. No obituary was ever published in any French newspaper.
Sometime after Henri’s death, a letter written by some unknown person (Isabelle could not remember the name) was forwarded to Isabelle requesting information from the authorities of St. Philippe-du-Roule about her husband. The authorities of St. Philippe-du-Roule were unable to remember the dates of Henri’s employment. Ironically, the Abbot had once written that Henri was very much appreciated.
In the March 1968 issue of The Diapason (p. 17) an article was published about Henri’s death, which resulted in Isabelle’s reception of one letter of condolence, sent from a Mr. Jerry Koontz of Washington State, USA. Sometime between 1968 and 1972, Isabelle moved to the convent in Nice. She no longer heard from Bedouin, but the Raugels paid her a surprise visit. Isabelle had a cousin in Paris with whom she kept in touch until the early 1970s. Isabelle became increasingly deaf and blind. Between 1967 and 1975, she read books on archeological findings and the history of France. She also corresponded with the French Society of Archeology. Additionally, Isabelle collected stamps, which were sold to raise money for missionaries in Africa.
By 1975, Isabelle was totally blind and could not read or write. She returned to the convent at Draguignan. The sisters said that she was always an interesting conversationalist, even though there was an occasional language barrier. Many of the sisters were from the United States and were not well versed in the French language. Around November of 1976, Isabelle broke her leg. She never recovered from the trauma of the accident and she died on March 24, 1977.
Henri Mulet had his photograph taken at least five times. There is an undated photograph from his student days that was owned by Felix Raugel. One appeared in the 1910 issue of the Comœdia Illustré. A third was taken with Albert Riemenschneider on the steps of St. Philippe-du-Roule during the 1920s. The fourth photograph was published in the 1936 article by Dr. Bedart. The final photograph is a color picture taken by a cousin of Henri between August 7 and October 17, 1959. According to Isabelle, it was taken “ . . . after a good lunch in the garden of the hotel in Draguignan.”

Mulet, the enigma
By nature of his birth, Henri stands as a Middle Impressionist, if Henri Dallier (b. 1849) is taken as the first French Impressionist and Maurice Duruflé (b. 1902) is taken as the last French Impressionist. Although Mulet lived for 88 years, he composed for only fifteen of them, between 1896 and 1911. Even though this is a relatively brief time, his compositions can be divided into three periods such as those of other composers who wrote over their entire lives.
Because Mulet never dated anything and often published his compositions years after they were written, it is impossible to make a chronological arrangement for some years. The order given is based upon his compositional traits. The three periods range from c. 1896 to c. 1902, c. 1903 to c. 1909, and c. 1909 to c. 1911.
Very few autograph scores have survived, because Mulet simply threw them away when the pieces were published. At present, the author has two of the remaining autograph scores in her possession: Offertoire sur un Alleluia Grégorien and Carillon-Sortie. He only retained originals when the printed scores contained a multitude of errors. For the most part, Mulet did not own copies of his own works. As of the present, eight scores have disappeared, seven of which were written in his third period. Six of these were in the possession of Raugel at one time, but when Raugel returned them to Mulet in 1937, Mulet loaned them to some unknown person who claimed the ability to get them performed. They disappeared and have still to be recovered. As with the scores of many other composers, they may someday be found in some Parisian attic. Of the other missing scores, one was an opera burned by Isabelle at Henri’s request and the other simply went out of print. Although the scores were lost, eight-measure themes to each work were registered with the French Composer’s Society.21
Isabelle said that Henri had no set time for composing. Mulet himself stated that “One composes when seized by the spirit. To be inspired is the most important thing.” Felix Raugel said that Mulet would not permit himself to be influenced by any other composer.22
The music of Henri Mulet is unique. Mulet achieved much tension between any two notes. As a result, Mulet was an extremely efficient and concise composer. Not one note can be extracted from a Mulet piece without causing major disruption of the musical line. According to his friends and his wife, Mulet had to struggle for every idea that came to him; therefore, even though Mulet had an incredible depth of inspiration, he cannot be classified as a compositional genius. The master composers always had a flood of ideas that came rapidly. Henri never achieved this.
When Mulet worked on the autograph scores of his first period, he was fascinated by calligraphy. Three types of writing appear on his scores. The titles are written very thickly with ornaments. Other comments are much smaller and much less ornamental. In the organ manuscript Offertoire, the registrations appear in his normal handwriting. In comparing Mulet’s scores to those of master composers of the time, none other took the time to write things out so carefully.
Mulet’s attention to detail yielded extraordinarily balanced musical parts. His music became more and more flawless, especially in his second period compositions. These are written completely in contrary motion, a trait that is rather unusual for an Impressionist.
Where Mulet succeeded so flawlessly in sound, he was quite the opposite when it came to copying out his scores. He composed sketches first and then transferred his works to an actual autograph score. He thought nothing of putting an oboe part on a clarinet line, he never repaired errors when a piece was published, nor did he bother to tell anyone about the mistakes in his printed scores.
Henri Mulet will probably remain enigmatic in the world of music. Because of his lack of correspondence, few friends, and solitary lifestyle, information regarding his life is limited. The information in this article was gleaned from correspondence to his wife Isabelle, the French Composer’s Society, the Little Sisters of the Poor, Paul Bedouin, Henri Heurtel, and from Felix Raugel. Hopefully, the little information that is available will offer some insight into his life and will elevate his much-deserved standing in the world of classical composers.

Copies of Mulet’s extant works are available from the author at a nominal fee. Send e-mail to <[email protected]> for a list of works and details about ordering.

Author’s note:
This project was begun in the late 1960s by Kenneth Saslaw, who was a doctoral student at the University of Michigan. Kenneth was my vocal coach for many years, and when, at age 35, he lay on his deathbed, he asked me to complete the work and have it published. He had spent a great deal of time corresponding with the above-mentioned people to track down what information was available about Mulet, to the extent that the French Society of Composers and Musicians named him the world authority on Mulet. I acquired the materials several years after his death. The task of sorting through letters and notes was monumental, as I had to spend many hours peering at his handwritten notes with a magnifying glass in order to decipher them. As far as I know, the information is accurate. Kenneth has finally gotten his wish; may he rest in peace.

Lorenz Maycher

Lorenz Maycher is organist-choirmaster at First-Trinity Presbyterian Church in Laurel, Mississippi. His interviews with William Teague, Thomas Richner, Nora Williams, and Albert Russell have also appeared in The Diapason.

Robert Town has recently retired after more than forty years of overseeing the organ department at Wichita State University, where he established a legacy of the highest standards in organ performance with his many award-winning students, oversaw the plans and completion of a world-class concert hall and organ, and brought the great organists of the world to the Wichita community through the Bloomfield concert series. In this colorful interview he reminisces about his student life at Eastman, his encounters with eminent musicians such as the Gleasons, Arthur Poister, Marilyn Mason, Marcel Dupré, the Duruflés, Mildred Andrews, and Claire Coci, and his notable career as a teacher and recitalist.

—Brett Valliant

Director of Music, Worship and the Arts

Senior Organist, First United Methodist Church, Wichita, Kansas

Lorenz Maycher: Tell us about your early years.
Robert Town: I am from Meridian, New York, a little village just west of Syracuse. My parents took me to church for the first time in 1940, where I heard the one-manual, six-rank 1876 Hook & Hastings organ. And that was it. I started piano lessons when I was five and took all through my school years.
I became fascinated at the age of ten with something new on the market—the Hammond organ. My mother and I had stopped into Clark Music in Syracuse, and Mr. Clark showed us a church-model Hammond, which I thought was just wonderful. The Hook & Hastings organ in our church was thought to be old and beyond repair. At my instigation, when I was ten, I raised money with other kids in town by putting on circuses, magic shows, and the like to start an organ fund. At the end of two years we had raised $50. The Ladies’ CIC from church added $50, my father $100, and the man who owned the hardware store $100. Before long, we had enough to buy the Hammond organ for the church. I played the prelude and postlude sometimes, and took Hammond organ lessons at the music store in Syracuse. I became the organist at that church at fifteen, and then at First Baptist Church in Weedsport, New York when I was fifteen, where I played a two-manual, ten-rank Steere & Turner for $5 a Sunday.
In my sophomore year of high school, Warren Scharf, who had just finished his master’s degree with Catharine Crozier at Eastman, came to Auburn, New York, to be organist at Second Presbyterian Church, which had, and still has, an E. M. Skinner organ in the gallery. I began lessons with him, and he started me right from the beginning of the Gleason book, with exercises and pieces for manuals alone. At the age of fifteen, having to start from the very beginning was demoralizing, but was the correct thing to do. I studied with him for about six months, until he was drafted into the Army, ending my organ lessons. However, I had become intent on studying with Catharine Crozier at the Eastman School. When her first records came out from Kilbourn Hall, I bought them right away, even before I had anything to play them on. When her Longview, Texas, records of American music came out in 1953, I bought those. They are still marvelous to this day.
I met and heard Miss Crozier for the first time when I was fifteen, at an AGO regional convention in Utica, and made an appointment with her the next year to see how I could best prepare to become her student. I took off two days from school and took the bus over to Rochester to meet with her. Not wanting me to develop any bad habits, she urged that I not take organ lessons until I came to study with her. She did say piano was of the utmost importance, however, and that I could not have enough of that, emphasizing scales and arpeggios.
When I went to audition for her on December 18, 1954, they neglected to tell her. So, after my ear training test and piano audition, Edward Easley, who directed the auditions, looked around for her and found that she had gone out shopping. He found Mr. Gleason in Sibley Library and had me play for him instead. Halfway through my audition, Miss Crozier walked in. I was playing the Messiaen Celestial Banquet, and got so distracted that I left out the pedal part! Afterwards, to my great surprise, she said in a very cold and unsympathetic tone of voice, “Would you do a modulation for us?” I was so shocked that I turned around and said, “You mean from key to key?”
I was devastated when, in 1955, just as I was about to graduate from high school, I learned Catharine Crozier and Harold Gleason were resigning from the Eastman School. I had already been accepted.
As a teacher, Catharine Crozier had been difficult and unsympathetic. She had too many students to suit her, wanted an assistant to take beginning students, and only wanted to teach upperclassmen. Miss Crozier was unhappy.
I think it would be safe to say they knew they were leaving Eastman by January of 1955. Robert Hufstader from Rollins College wrote Eastman asking for a recommendation for a replacement for Arden Whitacre, who had resigned, and that is how the Gleasons found out about the opening at Rollins. Over Christmas holiday, they went down, unbeknownst to anybody, and looked the job over.
I went to Eastman in the fall of 1955. David Craighead, who was 32 years old at the time, had been appointed the new organ instructor. He came to have a very successful tenure at Eastman, and was a prince of a fellow, but his teaching style was very different from Catharine Crozier’s. When Catharine was in a lesson, it isn’t an exaggeration to say the student might receive a tap on the shoulder every two measures. When Mr. Gleason gave her students lessons while she was away on tour, her students did not think he was a very good teacher because he did not stop them every two measures!
In one of my first lessons with David Craighead, I had some things from the Gleason book, and he admitted he did not agree with all the precepts of that method, saying it was too fussy, with too much to be concerned about. He did not even think it was necessary to wear organ shoes and played in his street shoes. I sat in the practice room with the Gleason book, working on pieces for manuals alone, which, after time, Mr. Craighead thought were too easy for me; so he assigned about ten chorales from the Orgelbüchlein and two of Karg-Elert’s chorale improvisations, an impossible leap from what I had been playing. The former Gleason students would sometimes come in and say, “It would be helpful if you would do it this way.”

LM: What were the practice organs and studio organs like at Eastman?
RT: The organ in Catharine Crozier’s studio, where David Craighead first taught, was a three-manual Aeolian-Skinner of about 26 ranks. The whole instrument was installed in a chamber in the ceiling. In Norman Peterson’s studio, next door, the Great and Pedal were on the floor level (the early records of Catharine Crozier at Kilbourn Hall have a drawing of that Great and Pedal on the cover), and the Swell, Choir, and basses were located in the ceiling chamber. There were three Aeolian-Skinner practice organs that were in great demand all the time. One was called “the Trumpet Skinner”; one was “the Mixture Skinner”; and the third was a small three-manual. The other practice organs were two-manual Möllers of five ranks each, most of which were original to the school when it was built in 1921, and two three-manual Möllers in such poor working order that no one could use them.

LM: You told me an amusing story about hearing Claire Coci when you were a student at Eastman.
RT: The year before I went to Eastman, Claire Coci played a recital at Kilbourn Hall, and some of the Eastman students sat behind the console. As things went wrong, she would curse, often loud enough for the first few rows to hear. When we found out she was to play a recital on the Holtkamp organ in Crouse Auditorium at Syracuse, two carloads of us organ students from Eastman drove over to hear her, and the Syracuse students reserved the front two rows for us.
While she was practicing for that recital, a couple of organ students were listening to her from the balcony. She noticed and called up, “Do you kids know where there is a Coke machine around here?” One of them ran downstairs and brought her up a Coke, and, in one of her enormous gestures in playing, she knocked it off the bench and the bottle shattered on the floor. When she finished practicing that piece, she got up and kicked the broken glass under the pedalboard.
For the recital, the dress she was wearing had many different layers which had to be parted to get out of the way and put over the back of the bench. She fussed and fussed, trying to find the part. She couldn’t, and finally muttered, “My God, it would take a road map to find your way in here.”

LM: From Eastman, did you go right to Syracuse to work on your master’s degree with Arthur Poister?
RT: Yes. Arthur Poister was a great man—very sensitive, intuitive, and wise. Classes began in the fall of 1960, and lessons with Poister were a revelation, as was playing the Holtkamp organ at Crouse Auditorium. He waited about three weeks into school to comment on my playing. I had been working on the F-Major Toccata, which was one of his favorite pieces, and played it for my lesson, which certainly was not a finished performance. Beverly Blunt came in to wait for her lesson. He looked at her, and said, “Did you hear that? Wasn’t that wonderful?” He did that to encourage me, and it did. To have ANYONE say I was wonderful! I walked out of there on a cloud!
Arthur Poister taught at Crouse all morning, and had full reign of the auditorium, with his students practicing there afternoons into the evening. We each had Crouse one hour a week. I loved exploring, hearing, and getting to know that organ. I visited there this past summer for the first time since our Marcussen organ was installed here in Wichita. Curious to see how the Holtkamp in Crouse would seem to me these days, I sat down in the stifling heat and played individual stops and choruses, then finally got to full organ. When the old Roosevelt Trombone came on in the pedal, I concluded it was still magnificent.

LM: What would Arthur Poister say about a piece like the Toccata in F? Did he tap you on the shoulder every two measures?
RT: No, no—never. He did not like articulation in Bach, and had learned and memorized all the Bach works with Marcel Dupré over the course of two years in Paris. He thought Bach should be played legato, regardless of Walcha and others on the scene at the time. He taught and used the ornaments as explained in the Dupré edition of the Bach works. If someone detached something, he would say, “You kids! You just want to break up things, when it would be so much more beautiful if you would just stop that!”
It was amazing how his students came to play the way they did, because he never said much about pedaling or fingering. In fact, I was studying the Partita on “O Gott, du frommer Gott,” and, in the last variation, I did not know what to do in one passage. He said, “You have had enough organ to be able to figure it out yourself.” Then, he threw in a little hint by saying, “It may be all thumbs.” When I look back at my Syracuse years—Calvin Hampton was there, Paul Andersen, Lawrence Jamison, who was the star of the undergraduates—when I look back on the preparation of the undergraduates, and the caliber of master’s recitals with that man, it was phenomenal. It is the mystery of Arthur Poister how it happened—how he did NOT correct fingering or pedaling, and only talked about the way it must sound. His only concern was how to communicate musically.

LM: Did you ever play for Marcel Dupré?
RT: No, but I met and heard him July 6, 1969, on my first trip to Europe. I was with two other Americans, and we started out unsure that any of the big organists would be playing that day, it being time for their holiday, and our having made no prior arrangements to visit organ lofts. We started out at 9:00 at St. Clothilde, and Marie-Louise Jacquet came down the aisle after Mass. I inquired if Langlais was at the console, and she said, “Yes, and you may go up.” I was the first to enter. He was sitting at the console, waiting for the next Mass, and turned and said, “Yes?” I introduced myself and the two others, and said, “I bring greetings from Catharine Crozier.” He was delighted, and said, “Tell me, is she still playing that perfectly horrible Reubke piece?” He very kindly and generously went over the stops on the entire instrument. Then, he opened his Braille watch and said, “I have just enough time to play the Franck B-Minor Choral for you before the next Mass.” He seemed so delighted that someone had come up to visit him in his organ loft. We signed his guest book, and he showed us to the door before he had to pile back on for the next Mass.
We then walked to St. Sulpice, where Mass was already in progress. We walked far enough down the aisle to look back and see who was in the loft. We couldn’t see anyone, except one man standing at the rail. After a time, he noticed us looking up with great interest, and motioned for us to come up. There were 15 or 20 other people in the loft visiting that day, including Guilmant’s granddaughter. The man who had motioned to us took me by the shoulders, led me over and planted me on the left side of the console, and I listened and watched HIM—Dupré—improvise and play. We were told he had just played the Bach Passacaglia. After our arrival, it was all improvisation.

LM: Did he welcome you?
RT: Oh, no. He was absolutely oblivious to anyone being there at all—no eye contact, no smile. His hands were deformed with arthritis, and it was most distracting for me to watch him play. The little finger on his left hand had a joint that actually pointed up, instead of down, so he had to play on a different part of that finger. It did not seem to bother him. During communion and at other times, when he wanted to see how they were making progress downstairs, he would insert a pedal point into his improvisation, stand up on the pedals, and look down the length of the nave. His improvisations were fantastic, and we were in seventh heaven. His postlude was very reminiscent of the first piece in his Fifteen Pieces—big, block chords on full organ, with the theme in the pedal. The other improvisations were very contrapuntal.
When Mass ended, apparently he had an appointment with someone, because a young man came up to him. When Dupré saw him, they went off together to a room behind the console, and were there for some time. On his way to the room, he did not take notice of anyone. When they emerged, he made his way back to the console, again without acknowledging our presence, and began the prelude for the next Mass, which was the “Grand Orgue” Mass. When the postlude of the “Grand Orgue” Mass ended, all of a sudden, he looked around and noticed there were people there. I extended my hand and introduced myself as a former pupil of Arthur Poister. If ever in my life I saw a face light up, it was at the mention of Poister’s name. His gnarled hand shot up in the air—“AH! ARTHUR!” I wish I had a picture of it. He asked me to please give Poister his best. After that Mass, we stood outside St. Sulpice and watched as Dupré came out and got into a Mercedes.

LM: Let’s get back to your student days and Syracuse.
RT: After my master’s recital, I decided to stay on at Syracuse and work on a Ph.D. in humanities, which was the nearest thing they offered that had to do with arts and music. But I did not like it. There was no actual music, no practicing, no lessons. So, when Kirk Ridge, who was chairman of the school of music, contacted me to teach piano full-time for the spring semester 1963, as a temporary replacement, I jumped at the chance.
That semester, when I wasn’t teaching one of my 36 piano students, I was practicing and playing recitals. I had seen an ad in The Diapason announcing the Boston Symphony and AGO organ competition, so decided to enter. Even after two years with Arthur Poister, I still had thoughts that I did not measure up to others, and I did not think I stood a snowball’s chance in a hot place of placing in the Boston competition. However, I made a tape and sent it in. In the meantime, I had also decided to apply to the University of Michigan to work on a doctorate with Marilyn Mason, so I flew to Ann Arbor to audition for her.

LM: What was your first impression of Marilyn Mason?
RT: I liked her! When I arrived at Hill Auditorium, she was practicing the Schoenberg. We went to one of the side rooms off the stage, and I auditioned for her on a 3-rank Möller. She was very nice, personable, and encouraging.
After my audition, I went back to Syracuse and received a letter from the Boston AGO saying I was a semi-finalist. I thought there was some mistake and even called the man who had written the letter and asked him if it were a mistake. He assured me it was not. The semi-finals were held in April at the Arlington Street Church on a Whiteford Aeolian-Skinner. They kept us all in the basement apart from each other, and I have no idea who the other contestants were. Two others and I were selected as the finalists.
For the finals, which were open to the public and held at Symphony Hall in May, we each had to play thirty minutes. I had gotten there four days early to practice. The combination action on the Symphony Hall organ was very unreliable, and there was an enormous setterboard in the back of the console. Even after setting pistons, some of the generals were undependable. During my practice time, I learned which ones were reliable and which ones to avoid. I never saw any evidence of either of the other two finalists practicing. We did not have scheduled practice times, and every time I walked in, I was able to get to the organ.
There was a big crowd there for the finals, and the hall was set up with round tables for the Boston Pops. We were allowed five minutes to walk onstage informally and set our pistons before playing, then had to leave the stage and reenter formally to applause. I played from memory, and all I could think was, “If I can just make it through this without making a complete fool of myself . . . ”
Afterwards, we three finalists went down into the audience and mingled. I kept myself in close proximity to the other two so I could go up and congratulate the winner. A woman came out on stage and said, “Here’s the news you’ve all been waiting for: the winner is Robert Lloyd Town.” The other two finalists looked at each other in disappointment, turned around, and left. Lawrence and Ruth Barrett Phelps both came up to me, and that was the beginning of my very long and valuable friendship with him. Larry later gave us much help on our new hall and Marcussen organ here.
As the winner, I was given a full-length recital at Symphony Hall that next February. The previous day, a blizzard paralyzed the entire city. Harry Kraut, who managed the Boston Symphony, called my hotel room and said, “Can you come back and play for us in April?” Rubenstein was to have performed with the Symphony that evening, and instead, they held it as an open rehearsal for anyone who could get there. They paid for me to come back in April to play my winner’s recital on the Symphony Hall recital series. I had heard Catharine Crozier play on that series the previous year, and stepped in on her practice, and went to lunch with them—the Gleasons.

LM: How did Catharine Crozier and Harold Gleason interact with each other in a social setting?
RT: They were not very affectionate. Just before she went in to play a recital once here in Wichita, I saw him take her hand and give it a squeeze. That is the only sign of affection I ever saw between the two of them. Mr. Gleason had a great sense of humor. He liked stories—tawdry stories; the more so, the more he liked them. She would turn and look the other way. They were both here in 1973 for a day of masterclasses and a recital. It had just been announced that Mildred Andrews was to be married. We were driving along in my car, and I told them the news. After a moment of silence, Harold said, from the back seat, “Well, I guess she didn’t want to die wondering.”
If I could characterize their relationship, it was very much one of teacher and performer. He was an invaluable coach—another set of ears to tell her how it really sounded. As time went on, she relied on recording herself over and over, and kept a tape recorder on the bench at all times, even recording small passages to play back to herself.

LM: You were around the Duruflés a lot, too. Did they have a similar relationship?
RT: No. Although they were 19 years apart, they interacted warmly as man and wife. She was a very loving and devoted wife to her great organist-composer husband, with little to no thought of herself. That tells you right there of the difference between the Gleasons and the Duruflés. After the accident in 1975, until his death in 1986, she went across the street to play for church, but abandoned all teaching and concertizing just to take care of him. I had a letter from her in 1984 saying he could do nothing for himself, and she had to bathe him, get him in and out of bed, and everything else. She was as devoted to him as anyone could ever be to another.
When they were here in 1969, I was dean of the Wichita AGO and responsible for showing them around, and we became good friends. She was cute and unpretentious. Over lunch, I told her I had heard about the tremendous standing ovation she had received at St. Thomas Church, October 1968, for her performance of the Liszt “Ad nos,” to which she replied, “Ah, but that was not for me, but was for my husband, who was more busy than me, pushing and pulling the stops—and for Liszt.”
The Duruflés’ manager, Lilian Murtagh, only charged us $700, and they did not come over here to make money, but for sightseeing, enjoying the people and the organs. When the place went wild after their recital, she came back out and played the D’Aquin “Cuckoo,” followed by their cute routine of taking bows: they would go into the sacristy, then he would push her back out and close the door. She would shrug, then bow so nicely. Then she would go in and they would both seem to come back out together, but she would run back in and close the door. He’d look at the door, then turn and bow. She then played the Vierne Impromptu and Dupré’s Second Sketch, during which, with the octave trills and the octaves in the pedals, I thought the organ was just going to collapse. The audience would not let her go, so she came back and played the theme and four or five variations from Variations on a Noël.
For their masterclass the next day, we arranged for them to play and discuss music. Mildred Andrews sent her entire organ class. He played the Franck A-major Fantasy and then his own Veni Creator, in which he had some registration problems, so Madame Duruflé moved him over and played it herself. She had played Tournemire’s Victimae the previous night, so she played the Ave Maris Stella, followed by the Duruflé Scherzo. He discussed each piece very nicely through a translator. I was sitting about five feet from the console when he approached me and whispered, “Would you like to terminate the class with the Liszt?” Of course, I said “Yes.” He turned to her and said, “The Liszt.” “Ah, but I am not prepared!” She set up a few pistons, and, I’m here to tell you that I wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t witnessed it with my own ears and eyes. Her performance was amazing. Afterwards I asked her where else she would be playing the Liszt on the tour. She said, “Nowhere. Perhaps next spring.”
After the class, I took them out to the university to see the mighty 18-rank Casavant in the chapel. They wanted me to play, since it was my post, then they came up to the console. I asked if she would like to play. “Oh yes, with pleasure.” She sat right down, pulled some stops, and tore right into the Sinfonia from Cantata 146, transcribed by Marcel Dupré, from memory, of course. It was played with the refinement and finesse as if she had been practicing it on that organ every day of her life.
We had been talking about the French system of assigning letter names to notes, and she tried to explain it to me, although I did not understand. She figured out the notes for “T-O-W-N” and improvised a fugue on it. When she finished, she said, “It was too academic.” So she improvised another one!

LM: A few minutes ago, you mentioned Mildred Andrews. Were you close?
RT: I loved Mildred Andrews as an “adopted” student, and we became close after she came to Wichita in 1976 to give a day of masterclasses for the AGO. Afterwards, I received a note from her saying she had conducted masterclasses from north to south, east to west, in thirty-five states, and that my students were the best she had ever heard. That sealed our friendship. Although I did not realize at the time how much proper attire meant to her, my students had shown up dressed for the occasion.
At the University of Oklahoma, Mildred Andrews had a strict dress code: the girls showed up in a dress, or they would not have a lesson; the boys showed up in shirt, tie, and jacket—no moustache or beard. I know of one occasion where a student showed up in the wrong attire, and Miss Andrews drove her back to the dormitory to change, then back to Holmberg Hall for what remained of her lesson time. There was never a “Well, it’s all right this time.” When she attended organ conventions, she would show up wearing one outfit in the morning, another in the afternoon, and in the evening, a third, usually full-length.
I was up for a promotion in 1976, and again in 1978, and she wrote wonderful letters of recommendation, saying things like, “I wouldn’t just promote him; I would do everything in my power to keep him.”
She was a character. One year an organist we were planning on having play for us in Wichita played a recital in Norman, so one of my students and I drove down to hear her. Mildred Andrews and Mary Ruth McCulley sat behind us for the recital. When the organist came out, Miss Andrews tapped me on the shoulder and said, “Tell her when she comes to Wichita not to wear that dress. It looks like something you’d wear for Halloween.” The recital opened with the Chorale and Variations from the Mendelssohn Sixth, and it did not go well at all. Mildred Andrews did not like Mendelssohn in the first place, and tapped me on the shoulder again, and said, “And for heaven’s sake, when she comes to Wichita, tell her to play something she knows!”

LM: Did Mildred Andrews study with Marcel Dupré?
RT: Yes, at Fontainebleau. She used his organ method and used the Dupré editions. She had studied at Oklahoma University for her bachelor’s, went to Michigan for her master’s, then back to OU to teach.

LM: What was the secret to her success?
RT: If there is a key word to Mildred Andrews’s success in teaching, it was determination—devoted determination. She would not rest, she would not stop, until she had solved a student’s technical problem, and was always looking for more effective fingering and pedaling, many times arriving at unorthodox solutions. She was devoted to her students, although there were some who did not get along with her, and did not like her.
She was very organized and demanding, outspoken and even brutal—even towards her peers. In 1971, the Duruflés gave a recital and masterclass at Boston Avenue Methodist Church in Tulsa, and I drove down to hear them. For the masterclass, that huge choir loft was full of listeners. Madame Duruflé played the Prelude and Fugue on the Name of ALAIN, and Maurice Duruflé asked “Are there questions?” Mildred Andrews shot back with “Yes! I’ve been timing this performance on my metronome, and have just found her playing a tempo other than is indicated in the score.” Madame Duruflé replied, “I played it as I felt it.” Maurice Duruflé backed up his wife and said he agreed with her performance. Mildred Andrews would not stop there and said to Madame Duruflé, “Well, I would like to know the correct metronome marking so that my students can play it the way YOU ‘feel it.’” I heard her do that numerous times. She would stand up to her peers as well as her students. That was a side of Mildred Andrews that I prefer not to think of. But, as a teacher, she was devoted and determined in every way.

LM: We keep getting sidetracked by all these hair-raising stories! Can we go back and talk about your days as a student at University of Michigan and your time with Marilyn Mason?
RT: I loved being with Marilyn Mason—dearly loved her. I had and still hold the greatest admiration for her. She was very good to me at all times and in all ways. Jim Bain was close to her, too. The three of us used to have our own little parties together. He and I called her “The Madame.” One morning, at an unthinkably early hour, we knew she was going to be leaving from the Detroit airport to play a recital, so we got ourselves up and to the airport and waited for her arrival so we could surprise her, which we did, and had a little party right there at the gate, then saw her off.
One year Marilyn arranged for Leo Sowerby to visit for an organ conference. He had been teaching at a summer camp in Put-in-Bay, across from Port Clinton. We had two days of recitals scheduled at Hill Auditorium, one of which included Marilyn playing his Pageant. We drove down to Port Clinton and took a little commuter plane over to the island to pick him up. The plane looked as if it could fall apart at any moment. Marilyn got in, looked around, and made the sign of the cross. We drove Sowerby up to Ann Arbor and had a dinner with martinis at my apartment in Huron Towers. Marilyn made lasagna at her house and brought it over. After we had had sufficient martinis, Sowerby told us about a nun who had been taking composition lessons with him. She brought in the exposition of her composition to him, and it had a series of parallel fifths in it. He explained to her that, in the style she was writing, parallel fifths were not appropriate any more than in music of the 18th century, and they should be rewritten and corrected. When she came back the next week for her lesson, she had added more to it but had done nothing to correct the parallel fifths. He pointed them out again and tried to explain to her more clearly why they needed to be changed, asking her to please correct them. She came back the third week, and the composition had been extended further, but nothing had been done about the parallel fifths. Sowerby became impatient and spoke to her about it, whereupon she burst out, “Dr. Sowerby, I don’t care anything about your [language unbefitting a nun deleted] parallel fifths,” and walked out!

LM: Was he laughing when he told that?
RT: No. He said it matter-of-factly.

LM: When did you come to Wichita?
RT: In the spring of ’65, the dean of Wichita State University asked the dean of Michigan’s school of music, James Wallace, for a recommendation for an organist. I was ready for a break from school, so applied for the job, and was asked to come to Chicago, to the Sherman House Hotel, for an interview with the dean. We spoke for about an hour, and it was a very pleasant conversation. He built the school of music here—Walter J. Duerksen. As we wound down, we shook hands, and he very nicely said, “I can’t say for sure, but I feel nearly sure you are going to be the choice. You will hear from us within a couple of days.” Sure enough, his secretary sent me a contract. I was twenty-seven, and ready to get out on my own and make a living, although I did plan to finish my degree at Michigan in summer sessions.
My first fall here, I had seventeen students: six were master’s students, and I inherited a graduate teaching assistant and five beginners, and had a graduate organ class, plus two undergraduate classes. That next summer, I had so many students wanting to continue lessons that I felt duty-bound to stay here and teach. I ended up teaching every summer session, with the exception of 1969, until the 1990s, and never went back to Michigan to complete my degree.
When I came here, there were two organs on campus—a seven-rank Möller, and the Casavant in the chapel. An eight-rank Reuter was added in 1970.

LM: Was there any talk of a concert instrument at that time?
RT: No. However, it soon became apparent that we needed one. During a period of ten to twelve years beginning in the 1970s, we had numerous finalists and winners of prestigious national competitions. Two students won Fulbrights. University administrators realized there should be some place for these people to play on campus other than the chapel. The Dean of Students, Jim Rhadigan, said to me one day, “We’ve got to have a new organ and a new hall for these kids!” and an organ recital hall was soon added to a list of university capital needs.
At this point, I should introduce Gladys Wiedemann, one of Wichita’s leading philanthropists. She belonged to a club called “Mink or Sink,” obviously for wealthy ladies, and belonged to another club called “The Organaires.” The Organaires had about twenty members who were wealthy dowagers with electronic organs in their homes. They met monthly at a different member’s home, and everyone in attendance had to sit down at that particular organ and render a selection following a very extravagant lunch. Mrs. Wiedemann had a concert-model Hammond in her home.
In 1973, the organ students and I decided to sponsor the Gleasons in a summer workshop and recital. We took out an ad in the AGO magazine, which was called “MUSIC” at that time, and I started calling people for contributions for Catharine’s recital fee. Some friends in town suggested I call Gladys Wiedemann. So, I got up the nerve and called her. Right away, she said, “Well, would $100 help you out?” The following year we sponsored Marilyn Mason, and she gave another $100. Two months later, I received a letter from Mrs. Wiedemann saying she was going to have a Christmas party for the Organaires at the Wichita Country Club, and wanted to know if I would play a program for her party on an appropriate electronic. In gratitude for what she had already done for us, I wrote back to her immediately that I would be happy to play the program gratis. We went to dinner to discuss the details of this party for the Organaires, and that was the beginning of our friendship.
I played for her party, and she invited officials from the university. She also hired a dance band, Doris Bus and Her Dance Band, and Mrs. Wiedemann danced up a storm. The next day, she called the head of the endowment association at the university, and told him she would like to make a contribution to the university. He suggested she establish an organ scholarship, and that was exactly what she wanted to hear.
In 1979, an organ recital hall was added to the long list of capital needs for the university. By 1981, it was on a priority list of five years. I thought I should acquaint myself with all the organ builders in order to be prepared to make a serious recommendation, so in the summer of 1981 I went on a European organ study tour led by Earl Miller. We visited organs in the Netherlands, and I saw and heard a Marcussen organ at St. Laurance Church in Rotterdam, where there are three Marcussens. Larry Phelps had been telling me all along, “Marcussen is the only way to go.” The following summer, I returned to hear other instruments and went to Freiburg Cathedral for a recital. The Marcussen there, in the “swallow’s nest,” is only two manuals, but we all agreed that night if we could get an organ even half as good, we wanted it. That recital was the defining moment.
Gladys Wiedemann was a woman of unimpeachable integrity. She discussed money and business matters with me as long as they did not concern me. Very rarely, however, did she mention the purchase of an organ. But, when she encountered the president of the university at social functions, she would tell him she was going to do her part when there was a building to put it in. And she considered her “part” to be one-fifth of the cost of the organ, $100,000, with four other donors giving a like amount.
The central administration asked me for a report on my students for a proposal to be submitted to Mrs. Wiedemann. As March neared in 1983, I learned the president was going to meet with Mrs. Wiedemann in her Florida home to propose that she donate $500,000 for the organ. They got along well in business matters, and I felt very comfortable letting him meet her. She had already made sizable contributions to the university through him. Unfortunately, the meeting did not go well, and he came back without an agreement for more than the $100,000 she had initially offered. So he asked me to meet with her over spring break, which put me in a very uncomfortable position.
Mrs. Wiedemann received me warmly, as if she were glad to see me. I had been fretting on the plane down and all day Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday about how I was going to bring up the subject of the organ. After dinner, she rounded the corner from the dining room to the living room and, with a decidedly unpleasant look on her face and the proposal in her hand, said, “Well, I suppose while you’re here you’ll want to talk something about this organ.” I was not prepared for her to bring it up, so had not prepared a response. All I could think of was, “Well, I would like to tell you something about the builder we have in mind.” She said, “Oh?” in an immediately relaxed and interested way. I did not say a thing about money, or her part in it. She sat down visibly relaxed and said, “Tell me something about these people.”
She did seem interested in what I had to say about Marcussen, and at one point she said, “Maybe I could give an organ sometime, to my church or even to WSU,” then, “Maybe I should make a trip over and see where these organs are built sometime,” and, finally, “You know, in two weeks I’ll be back in Wichita. Would you be willing to come to my house and meet with my financial advisor and tell him everything you have just told me?”
The next month, Mrs. Wiedemann called to schedule a meeting. The last student I had that day was a devout Catholic, and she brought me a scapular and told me to put it in my pocket, saying it would help. I still have it. I was received nicely and I made my pitch for the Marcussen organ. Her financial advisor seemed interested, as did she. We were in session for two hours. As the advisor got up to leave, she said to him, very upbeat, “Well, are we going to be able to do it?” Not wanting to say anything in front of me, he replied, “I will be back on Friday, and we can discuss this and other matters at that time.” She said, “Gee, I hope so!” As soon as he was out the door, she said, “You know, you make a good presentation. You ought to be the dean.”
When she finally called me the next Tuesday, she was very foxy. Supposedly she had called to talk about humorous little things that had happened at one of her clubs. After a few minutes, she said, “Well, you have to be on your way to teach, so I’ll get off the phone. We’ll talk another time.” And, just as I was about to put down the phone, she said, “OH! Yes, by the way, I suppose I should tell you I have just called up Clark Ahlberg (WSU president) and asked him to write up a pledge for $500,000 for the organ.”
At the end of the school year, I went to Denmark to visit Marcussen, and we talked about the stoplist, which had already been in the works for two years. My most notable advisor through its design was Lawrence Phelps.
After several hair-raising setbacks, we signed the contract for the organ in December of ’83, when everything seemed like it was on solid ground, until October of ’84, when the contractors’ bids on the building came in, and every one of them, even the lowest bid, exceeded the amount of money we had to spend on the building by over $100,000. I attended the meeting, and there wasn’t one of them that was even in sight of the money we had.
From 1934 to ’54, a wonderful man by the name of Sam Bloomfield and his wife lived in Wichita. He was the first airplane builder in Wichita, which is now known as the air capital of the world, and had countless patents on aeronautical devices he invented, as well as other inventions. The Bloomfields moved to California in 1954. They had been very active in the arts in Wichita, and our dean, Gordon Terwilliger, had known them both personally. So, he called up Rie Bloomfield (her name was Henrietta) and explained that the hall was in jeopardy. The good Mrs. Bloomfield came through with $150,000, which put us over the top. Construction on the hall was begun in December of ’84, and the organ was declared finished on July 9, 1986. A 5-rank Phelps practice organ was installed in my new studio.
For the inaugural series, we had Gillian Weir, Dennis Bergin, François-Henri Houbart, and Catharine Crozier, and I gave the last one in April, 1987. President Ahlberg named the hall for Gladys Wiedemann, and at the dedication ceremony for the hall and organ, she was so overcome with emotion that she just sat there and wept before the ceremony ever began. The following season I was allowed $3,000 for the University Organ Series, as it was called. It did not go very far, but we had Madame Duruflé in 1992, and Olivier Latry in 1993.
In 1994 the aforementioned Rie Bloomfield endowed the organ series in her name, which has allowed me to have four to five major recitals per season. Catharine Crozier recorded the Rorem works in 1988, and inquired about playing a vespers series here. She played again in 1989, and weekly vespers recitals in 1993, ’97, and ’99. She recorded works by Franck for Delos in 1997. The Marcussen organ here became her favorite, and she said there was not one organ in Europe or in the United States that she liked better. In twenty years, most of the world’s major organists have performed here, and many have remarked about this marvelous instrument. After forty-one years of teaching, I played a final series of vespers recitals in March, 2006, and a Robert Town Finale recital in May. The organ professorship became an endowed faculty of distinction chair in my honor in 2005.