Scottish Chamber Organ

Berghaus Pipe Organ Builders,
Bellwood, Illinois

St. Benedict’s Catholic Church,
Chesapeake, Virginia

From the builder

As most organ projects go, Berghaus Pipe Organ Builders’ instrument for St. Benedict’s Catholic Church proceeded at a rapid pace. The organ was completed just two years and one week after organist, conductor, author, and consultant to the parish Peggy Kelley Reinburg made initial contact with us in June 2012. From our very first meeting in which creative ideas were freely shared, our firm was enthusiastic about collaborating with Ms. Reinburg. Her insight into pipe organs, and in particular her thoughts on tonal design, proved to be invaluable resources. After long conversations with her and consulting her book, Arp Schnitger, Organ Builder: Catalyst for the Centuries (1982, Indiana University Press), we were confident that we could present an instrument with a heart of simplicity and clarity, rooted in North German tradition, that also possessed a distinctive voice, as our company has provided to clients for many years. 

Following the signing of the contract in the fall of 2013, construction was executed over a six-month period, and the organ components were delivered to Chesapeake the day after Easter, 2014.Installation of the organ commenced over a five-week period, and tonal finishing took place over one month.

Our initial site visit revealed an existing south organ chamber that would eventually contain the Hauptwerk. For engineering and site preparation, the church contracted with Spiegel Zamecnik & Shah Inc. of Washington, D.C., to engineer the design and with Sussex Development Corp. of Virginia Beach, Virginia, to penetrate a tone opening for the existing chamber and create a second chamber on the other side of the rose window for the Schwellwerk and Pedal. Berghaus designer Michal Leutsch planned façade pipes and screens to complement the church architecture while hiding the dual enclosures. Initially, we intended to create a cloth screen barrier above the three pipe towers on each side. However, the logistics of creating such a screen prior to the arrival of the organ became impractical, and so its construction became part of the organ installation. Rather than use the ubiquitous grille cloth, we chose stamped metal screening, which would allow for better tonal egress.

Wind pressures are moderately low throughout, measuring 75 mm for the Hauptwerk, and 90 mm for the Schwellwerk and Pedal. This allows for a voicing style on classical lines, and yields pipes that work together with natural, unforced tone. Each chamber is equipped with a single horsepower Ventus blower, which provides ample and steady wind to all chests while keeping a simple yet effective winding plan for the entire instrument. Manual stops are primarily located on Berghaus slider and pallet windchests, which are controlled by Heuss electric pulldown magnets. Within each main chest is a large schwimmer, which provides stable wind. Pedal and unit ranks are located on electro-pneumatic windchests, also constructed by the Berghaus firm.Expression boxes are constructed from 1-3/4″ thick tongue and groove poplar, which allows for a wide range of dynamic possibility.

Both chambers are adorned by rift-cut red oak casework with accented trim, stained to match the church furnishings.The organ is played from a custom-built console of red oak and burled walnut. Keyboards are constructed of maple and walnut, and manuals utilize tracker touch. The combination action is controlled by the ICS-4000 system by Peterson Electro-Musical Products, and contains many features, including a piston sequencer and record/playback.

In the Hauptwerk, the principal chorus is moderately scaled and voiced without gimmicks to improve presence or warmth. Façade pipes are made of 75% tin and continue as such throughout the compass of the stop. The elevated position of the slider chest allowed us to treat pipes without fear that the choir would be offended by full registration, and at the same time, individual voices seem to bloom from within the chambers. The 8′ Hohlflöte is designed to act as a chameleon in registration, and is made from three distinct types of pipe construction: the bass octave is constructed as a stopped flute, the tenor octave is constructed as a Koppelflöte, and the upper octaves are constructed as a Hohlflöte. Deliberate voicing with attention to blending construction types was necessary to the successful finishing of this stop. The result is a flute that morphs well with many registrations. The Hauptwerk mutations are scaled to match the Mixtur IV–V and provide the light clarity of a Sesquialtera, thus providing a Germanic cornet décomposée for the division. In our shop, Berghaus constructed a Bourdon of poplar as our manual 16′ tone, and provided an 8′ Trumpet, which is voiced as a blending reed. Shallots are tapered German and provide warmth and fullness.

Schwellwerk flues are voiced full to support the generosity of the large scale mutations. Strings are made from 75% tin, and are generously scaled to provide adequate foundation tone, while also giving a satisfying sizzle that clarifies homophonic passages found in many pieces of Romantic and 20th-century repertoire. The 8′ Rohrflöte is scaled with large diameter chimneys, which are fully 1/3 of the diameter of the pipe.Together, these foundation stops provide remarkably solid grounding to the division. Once again, the substantial scaling of the mutations provides a powerful and nasal French-sounding Cornet. The Krummhorn is scaled generously to provide fullness to the mutations and is also available in the Pedal at 4′ pitch. The Oboe is designed with a French parallel shallot and is voiced moderately to blend well with the mutations. The Cromorne is scaled and voiced to provide fullness throughout the register.

As is often the case, available space made the luxury of a full and independent Pedal out of the question, and we therefore chose to unify the major principal and flute of the division. The pipes of the 16′-8′-4′ Principal wander back and forth between the Schwellwerk chamber and façade, which contains notes of the 8′ Octave. The bottom twelve notes are made from zinc and use interior Haskell tuners. The façade portion and above are made from 75% tin, as is the Pedal Mixtur. The 16′ Subbass is generously scaled, and was constructed of poplar by Berghaus craftsmen. The 16′ Fagott is made with pine resonators and used an historic Schnitger shallot with very wide reed tongues. The sound of this stop seems to have equal parts fundamental and harmonic development, and so it lends itself well to a broad spectrum of repertoire.

Overall, the organ’s resources create a myriad of tonal combinations, each at home announcing or complementing chant during High Mass, or in performing repertoire from Bach to Distler, from Couperin to Alain. Having both chambers enclosed further enhances the tonal palette and increases its flexibility as an accompanying instrument.

The organ was blessed on August 22 by Msgr. Walter Barrett, followed by Holy Mass in the Extraordinary Form in honor of the Immaculate Heart of Mary with Rev. Neal A. Nichols, FSSP, presiding. Peggy Kelley Reinburg served as organist and Jeanne Dart, director of music, led the choir. A dedicatory recital will be performed on November 22 at 3:00 p.m. by Crista Miller, director of music and organist at the Co-Cathedral of the Sacred Heart in Houston, Texas.

The entire team at Berghaus Pipe Organ Builders is extremely grateful for the collaborative efforts of everyone involved in the organ project. In particular, we appreciate the support we received from Fr. Nichols, Jeanne Dart, members of the choir, and parishioners who assisted in the unloading and various stages of installation. Berghaus Pipe Organ Builders’ sincerest gratitude goes out to all who helped make this a truly exciting and rewarding project. Soli Deo Gloria!

—Jonathan Oblander, Tonal Designer & Kelly Monette, Head Tonal Finisher, on behalf of the entire Berghaus Pipe Organ Builders team

From the consultant

After accepting the challenges of serving as organ consultant for a project with the all-too-common and severe limitations of the potential funding base, of being engaged after a new church structure was beyond any major architectural changes, and of having the responsibility of educating the clergy, the musicians, and the congregation regarding the advantages of committing to a pipe organ, I began to become aware of the positive realities of the project at St. Benedict’s Catholic Church in Chesapeake, Virginia. 

First, it was revealed that the pastor, the Rev. Neal A. Nichols, FSSP, and the director of music, Jeanne Dart are both from Richmond, Virginia, my own hometown; and then we discovered we all had been educated, though for different lengths of time, at St. Benedict’s Elementary School! As we began to converse and to follow the natural order of organ consulting, I began to learn of the freedom I was being offered to guide my ninth organ project through its total evolution with no artistic constraints. Financial constraints can cause you apoplexy, but creative hamstringing can damage your soul!

The goals of this project were: 

1) An organ built by a distinctive builder without financially drowning the parish

2) An organ that could support the numerous schools of organ and choral literature while underpinning the rich liturgical heritage of the Latin Mass

3) The creation of an instrument with its own identity, possessing the silvery sheen of a Baroque North German instrument yet supported by an enveloping warmth capable of bringing the worshippers and listeners to the depths of faith and to the heights of emotion

4) A Hauptwerk Prinzipal chorus that would make the congregation want
to sing

5) Provision of four primary reed stops: Krummhorn 8′, Hautbois 8′, Trompete 8′, and Fagott 16′, and of two Cornets décomposé, one scaled and voiced in the French manner and one in the German

6) Consistent nomenclature for the instrument

7) A beautiful encasement and console, which also would be visual works of art

8) Key and stop actions that would enable a marriage of the instrument and musician and also provide a comfortable playing and conducting situation. Mechanical action was desired, but eventually that preference had to be abandoned due to existing gallery design and spatial limitations.

After preliminary visits onsite with five major American mechanical-action builders and two builders known primarily for their other actions, the fact of a too-shallow gallery for an independent encasement and inadequate space for any future choir growth, coupled with cost comparisons, eventually were the deciding factors. The selection of a builder  was also made difficult because of my personal acquaintances and friendships with all but one of the builders represented! Ironically, Berghaus Pipe Organ Builders was the only firm with which I had not had a previous connection; and after performing a recital on their instrument for St. John’s Episcopal Church, Norwood Parish, in Chevy Chase, Maryland, for the Northern Virginia and Potomac AGO chapters, I was convinced that the firm should be considered. 

Every memo I wrote based on involvement with organs and organ building throughout my career and every wish included on my organ “bucket list” has been a consideration in consulting on this particular instrument. The lack of funding for three manual divisions resulted in enclosing both manual divisions and allowing console space for a third, a Rückpositiv, which it is hoped may be added someday. If it is not, the disposition of the organ as it stands has already created the illusion of the presence of a third manual division.

The opportunity of meeting at the workshop the majority of craftsmen who participated in this project and the pleasure of building a working relationship with them during the installation have been added delights. I have enormous respect for so many, especially those who have added to my deeper understanding and enjoyment of this facet of our beloved profession. I have only the utmost respect for the director of engineering and operations, Michal Leutsch, and for the tonal gurus, Kelly Monette, head tonal finisher, Jonathan Oblander, tonal designer, and Steven Hoover, tonal finisher and reed specialist. The gorgeous console with its burled walnut music desk and stop jambs is the exquisite work of console artist Jordan Smoots. Transformation of thousands of components into the organ as an entity was due also to the skilled work of Joe Poland, Ron Skibbe, Mitch Blum, Eric Hobbs, Kurt Linstead, and Casey Robertson. The administrative coordinator, Dawn Beuten, is embracing her new role in the company with enthusiasm; the firm’s office manager for six years and newly named vice president, Jean O’Brien, is the epitome of organization, efficiency and graciousness; and Brian Berghaus, president, leads the firm with admirable business acumen and a firm hand, peppered with a calming sense of humor, in his journey to maintain the integrity of the history of organ building while introducing the best of new technological developments to this art.

—Peggy Kelley Reinburg

Organ Consultant

All photos credit Deborah P. Spidle except as noted

Glück Pipe Organs,
New York, New York

St. John’s of Lattingtown Episcopal Church,
Locust Valley, New York

An historic idyll

The hamlet of Lattingtown, a sub-enclave of Locust Valley on New York’s Long Island, is named for the locust trees that forest the terminal moraines left by receding glaciers. The land was purchased from the Algonquin-speaking tribe of the Lenape nation in 1667, and during the late nineteenth century, the region became known for its quiet serenity while enjoying proximity to New York City, where many of the area residents also kept city homes and offices for their business interests.

By the 1920s, society architects such as Delano and Aldrich; Bertram Grosvenor Goodhue; McKim, Mead, and White; Cass Gilbert; and Carrère and Hastings designed resplendent residences for privacy-seeking industrialists and financiers in the Glen Cove region, whose names may still be unfamiliar to most. The imposing estate houses were (and are) known by name rather than by street address, including attorney William Dameron Guthrie’s vast property, “Meudon,” named for Château de Meudon in the Parisian suburb where Marcel Dupré kept a house fitted up with a Mutin-Cavaillé-Coll organ.

In the bucolic Locust Valley–Glen Cove region, about a dozen houses in the “neighborhood” were furnished with pipe organs by the Aeolian Company, including the II/27 in Louis Comfort Tiffany’s “Laurelton Hall,” the IV/63 in Nicholas F. Brady’s “Inisfada,” and the colossal IV/107 in Frank W. Woolworth’s “Winfield Hall.” Yet it was the wife of sulfur baron Henry Devereux Whiton who is listed as the client for the II/13 Ernest M. Skinner organ of 1919 for their house “up the road” from St. John’s. It was this little organ, with roll-playing mechanism, which appears to have influenced the church’s choice of Skinner to build his Opus 447 when the church was reconfigured for its reopening in 1924. The church organ was a smaller affair of eleven ranks, built in Skinner’s Westfield shop. 

Neither of the small Skinner organs remains intact. Frieda Frasch Whiton divorced Henry in 1921, married Count David Augustus Constantini the following year, and upon the count’s death in 1937, married Baron Carl Gottlieb von Seidlitz, to whom she remained married until her death in 1951. The fate of the house organ appears lost to history.

The commission

Ten years ago, Eric Milnes, director of music, approached me about building a new organ for St. John’s, which I assumed would be a mechanical-action organ in historic style and temperament, as Mr. Milnes has earned an internationally celebrated reputation as a conductor and historical keyboard artist specializing in the historically informed performance of Baroque keyboard, instrumental, and choral music with period instruments. Yet to my delight, he envisioned a powerful, multifaceted, colorful adjunct to the Episcopal liturgy that could authentically interpret the concert repertoire. The use of electropneumatic action opened the door to a world of tonal possibilities in which the two of us could scratch our academic itches free from the strangulation of purist dogma. The challenge was not to acquiesce to bland “eclecticism,” but to devise an enchanting chameleon without spawning a generic creature devoid of character and personality.

The musical formula

The Latin multum in parvo, or “much in little,” often is used to assess the useful content-to-thickness ratio of short, highly informative books, whether technical or historical. It was co-opted by the speculative and operative arms of organbuilding to describe service-playing instruments of small scope and grand effect, most associated with English builders of the past 150 years, although the French have been parallel adepts. The criteria for this appellation remain nebulous, and the label has been adhered to organs of between 18 and 40 ranks, two or three manuals, French, English, or American, with mechanical or assisted action. 

In designing this 20-rank instrument for St. John’s, I chose to focus upon what the substantive literature demands of the organ. Thousands of American instruments have harbored lovely stops, but could never honor the wishes of the composers who wrote organ music. Since concert literature was written by church organists for the instruments they played in church, I always choose to work backwards from the score to create instruments with the required voices at the right pitches, properly grouped and usefully juxtaposed. Desirable elements in an organ of this limited size are an anchoring principal chorus, warmly and elegantly voiced with a clear, silvery mixture of sensible composition; a collection of flutes of diverse structure and material; a tierce combination for solo work; a pair of vibrant strings of authentically cutting, exceptional character; the three primary reed colors (Trumpet, Oboe, and Clarinet, the last of which must play in dialogue with the cornet); and a pedal division producing a very clean pitch line that can be heard moving clearly beneath and through the manual textures. No wasted space, no wasted metal.

By good fortune, the Skinner Salicional and Voix Céleste, as well as the Pedal 16′ Bourdon, survived the onslaught of the Orgelbewegung, so some heritage pipework, renamed, lives on in the organ. The new metal pipes are built of a spotted alloy of 50% tin (including the hefty resonators of the Swell 16′ Basset Horn). New timber pipes are poplar with walnut caps. Because this is a two-manual instrument, some solo stops are duplexed between the manuals, and some extension work is included. Of note are the variably scaled 16′ Pedal extension of the Skinner string and the 24-pipe downward extension of the Great 2′ Gemshorn as the Pedal 8′ Spitzflöte and 4′ Choral Bass. Although it is my policy to avoid unification of any manual rank at adjacent pitches, opting for a two-octave separation, the Chimney Flute appears twice in the Great department, charming at the unison, beguiling at the octave. The short-but-useful-compass 8′ Herald Trumpet is voiced on the same pressure as the rest of the organ. Its distinction comes from its scaling, shallot style, and voicing, its tone warmer and rounder than its name implies.

Expression: upstairs, downstairs

The Great and some of the Pedal fluework are unenclosed above the impost, and the remainder of the organ’s resources are under expression, including the Herald Trumpet and four of the five 16′ stops: the Violone, a downward extrapolation with a broadening scale of the 8′ Viole de Gambe, with Haskell re-entrant tubes; the Bourdon, extended from the 8′ Stopt Diapason; the Bombarde, an extension of the Trumpet; and the Basset Horn. This is accommodated by a two-story expression enclosure, with upper and lower banks of shutter blades. The knob engraved “Lower Shutters Off” disables and closes the shutters at the choir-loft level while permitting the entirety of the enclosed organ to speak through the controllable upper set behind the Great, using the nave’s ceiling as a sounding board. The Great 16′ Double Diapason is also enclosed, yet has no pipes of its own, being derived from the Swell 4′ Principal from C25 to G56, and the bass taken from the 16′ Bourdon/8′ Stopt Diapason unit. The addition to the ensemble is one of nobility and gravity without muddiness. The Pedal 16′ Subbass provides significant punch, never shared by, or extended from, its manual brethren.

The organ case

The remarkable oak casework was carved by William and Alexander Clow of Edinburgh to the designs of Sir Robert Stodart Lorimer, and was the gift of Mr. and Mrs. John Pierpont Morgan. The Clow brothers had completed the carved figures in the Chapel of the Knights of the Order of the Thistle at St. Giles Cathedral, Edinburgh, in 1911 and were a perfect team to work on a small summer church of this stature. The organ case was part of a much larger decorative program by Sir Robert and financed by Morgan; the entirety of St. John’s is pavé with exuberant carving in this style. 

The case was altered to accommodate the Skinner instrument, and again in the 1970s. In the course of decades, carved panels were discarded, crockets cut down, and a brash horizontal trumpet stop installed. Carvings were desiccated and cracked, and the case had settled after structural elements were removed during the last campaign of alterations. Our mission was to structurally stabilize and restore the case to the spirit of the Skinner era, with new components respecting the aesthetic sensibility of Morgan’s gift. There could be no stylistic infelicities.

For the first time since the church was built, the organ chamber is thermally insulated, and the façade bears speaking pipes of the Great 8′ Open Diapason. The original façade was composed of dumb pipes without winded toeboards, so the new façade pipes are given breath through the back of the foot via a tube of pipe metal.

The console

The elaborately inlaid and carved keydesk was inspired by the South German rococo work of Joseph Gabler from the second quarter of the 18th century. The morphology is his, but the console is dressed in Tudor clothing to match the exceptional work of the Clow brothers. Linenfold panels surround the entire console, including the back, and the astonishingly detailed corbels that support the key bed are just as intricately carved on their inside surfaces as they are where visible. As with all of our consoles, contrasting species of wood are used for everything from “skunktailing” the key cheeks to differentiating toe studs by function. Keyboard compasses are 56/30, accommodating the majority of the repertoire, anthem accompaniments, and robust hymnody. All measurements and relationships comply with AGO standards, and the organ is tuned in equal temperament.

The organ was dedicated and blessed during the morning service on September 7, and the inaugural recital performed by Eric Milnes on September 28.

The family of artisans at Glück Pipe Organs is grateful to have been invited to design and build this jewel in a jewel box. We appreciate the trust of the parish and their patience during the decade of study, design, construction, and finishing. Our longstanding accomplices in engineering and craftsmanship—OSI, A. R. Schopp’s Sons, Peterson Electro-Musical Products, and Harris Precision Products—continue to work with the dedicated members of the Glück team: General Manager Albert Jensen-Moulton, Joseph DiSalle, Dominic Inferrera, Peter Jensen-Moulton, Daniel Perina, and Robert Rast.

—Sebastian M. Glück

President and Artistic & Tonal Director

For more information about Glück pipe organs, video presentations, compact discs, workshops, and lectures, please visit gluckpipeorgans.com. 

Photo credit: All photos by Albert Jensen-Moulton

Regarding Sebastian Glück’s Opus 18

Upon my return from conducting Bach at the Tage für Alte Musik early music festival in Regensburg, Germany, I made the decision about a new organ for St. John’s, where I have been director of music and organist for 34 years. My career outside of the church has resided mainly in the period-instrument realm, conducting productions of Monteverdi through Mozart, and performing on historical 17th- and 18th-century keyboards and modern replicas. It was perhaps a paradoxical realization, when imagining a dream instrument for my church, that I longed for the more eclectic instruments of my youth, when I was a student of Gerre Hancock, John Weaver, and Vernon de Tar. What would make that dream a reality would be an electropneumatic instrument through which I could luxuriate in the French and German Romantic legacies, the great post-Victorian Anglican tradition, and the magnificent repertoire that has followed.

Sebastian Glück’s tonal and architectural insights and Albert Jensen-Moulton’s technical capabilities combined to fully divine my desire to return to those musical roots, and to conceive a plan that would ultimately satisfy completely. Their ability to express poetically, as well as in succinct and accessible technical terms the mysteries of concept, design, construction, and installation made the leap from imagination to implementation feel attainable. They equipped me well with the descriptive tools to guide a searching congregation through the process with assurance and anticipatory exhilaration. Their excitement about a freshly conceived instrument, their commitment to historical fealty and tonal integrity, and their respect for the mission of music in worship make for a wonderfully responsive and interactive collaboration with the church musician and the worshipers. We at St. John’s felt shepherded and fully participatory at all stages of the process as our musical dream became the longed-for voice of praise in our parish.

St. John’s chancel is a marvel of intricately embellished woodcarving in a heritage edifice preserving the extravagant preferences enjoyed by the privileged of the Gilded Age. The organ case in particular is a splendor to behold, and required the most loving care in its conservation and adaptation to a new instrument. Sebastian Glück’s distinction in the field of architectural restoration was of no small interest to the stewards of St. John’s legacy. His workshop’s treatment of the organ case, and his design of a complementary, luxurious console, have brought us transcendent joy. Albert Jensen-Moulton’s exquisite lighting plan has revealed to us the grandeur of the reimagined organ case, and we believe that the organ had not been fully illuminated since the Skinner organ was installed almost 100 years ago. Every craftsman member of the firm brought uncommon care to protect and restore the beauty for all to appreciate, present and future.

Having just celebrated the dedication and blessing of the new organ at St. John’s, the glorious sounds (first heard at this occasion) have filled us with inspiration and delight. We perceive the individual character of each exquisitely voiced rank, the kaleidoscope of a multitude of ensembles, blended, rich, warm, full, and thrilling in the unique acoustic of the sanctuary. A twenty-rank organ, conceived, built, and voiced by the caring (and compulsive!) hands of master builders, has been richly appointed to express the enormous range of a broad and diverse repertoire. Our church has received the gifts of exhilaration, inspiration, wonder, and mystery in support of praise and prayer.

Our deepest gratitude is expressed to Sebastian, Albert, and all the artisans of Glück Pipe Organs.

—Eric Milnes
Director of Music & Organist

One of the most interesting genres of music to arise during the 17th century was that of Portuguese and Spanish battle music written specifically for the organ. Iberian organs, highly versatile for their size and often equipped with formidable banks of horizontal reeds, were an inseparable factor in the development of this musical category, and still inform us how to play it. This article will examine the repertoire of Iberian battle music, its origins, and the impact of the villancico, ensalada, and the Iberian organ.

The repertoire

In an environment where composers wrote tientos and versets by the hundreds, the battle music repertoire seems quite small. Only about twenty pieces survive from the 17th century (Table 1), even if the list expands to include battle-like works with more generic names, or which appear to contain material borrowed from non-Iberian composers. Yet, perhaps because their unique battle-related content makes them fun to play, this small body of works appears on modern concert programs far more often than do the many tientos and versets that surround them in the manuscripts of the period. Mary Ellen Sutton¹ recommends in particular the battles marked in Table 1 with an asterisk as being of interest to modern audiences. Pieces marked + are nearly identical. The selection marked § has been attributed to both composers, or neither, as will be discussed later.

Most of the manuscripts containing battles (batalla in Spanish, batalha in Portuguese) came originally from monastery or cathedral libraries, no doubt because their composers were cathedral organists, some of them in holy orders. All of the manuscripts are now held in central libraries in or near Oporto and Braga, Portugal, and Madrid and Barcelona, Spain. Most of these works are available in modern transcription, but because so many of the anonymous pieces have similar names, I have included the original manuscript and folio numbers in Table 1.² 

In fact, almost all are described simply as a battle in a given mode. Mode designations imply that the compositions were intended for liturgical use. Fifth and sixth modes are the most common. The seven pieces in sixth mode have key signatures of F major. The four in the fifth tone are in C major. Although fifth mode is generally thought of as an F-based mode, its tenor is C. Sutton suggests that the use of C major here accompanies a general shift towards tonality. Three fifth-mode batallas, which are for all practical purposes written in the key of C, appear in Madrid MS 1357 in volumes indexed by mode. All of the fifth-mode versets in the first two volumes of MS 1357 were transposed to C.³ One of the two eighth-mode works, both thought to be by Aguilera de Heredía, is also in C major. The choice of key signature could be, of course, editorial. However, after playing the battles, I would agree with the editorial decisions. 

Most of the composers of battle music (Table 2) were famous musicians of their time and place. Pablo Bruna was considered one of the best organists and teachers in Spain. Blind since birth, he was known as “el ciego de Daroca” (the blind man of Daroca). Juan Batista Cabanilles was a master of the Spanish Baroque style, which enlarged on Renaissance practices and does not resemble the styles composers preferred in other parts of Europe during this era. A colleague said, “The world will crumble before a second Cabanilles appears.”

Some of the composers are less well known. The name of Diego (or Diogo) da Conceição appears in only one manuscript, where his few compositions are the best in the collection. Others remain unidentified, although stylistic similarities suggest that some of the anonymous pieces could be copies or variations on works by known composers. All of the known composers of battle music worked in Portugal or the Castilian region of Spain, where Iberian organ builders made improvements to the organs that facilitated this genre.

Borrowing from other composers was more acceptable in the Baroque era than it is today, and several of the battles demonstrate this procedure. The most notable is Cabanilles’s Batalla Imperial, which is identical, other than the ordering of the sections, to that of Johann Caspar Kerll, a slightly older German composer who worked in Austria. Who borrowed from whom is questionable, Mary Jane Corry positing a third composer entirely.⁵ In his article on Cabanilles in Grove Online, Barton Hudson attributes the battle to Kerll. In another example, two batalhas in Porto MS 1607 are quite similar to each other; Doderer suggests that based on their style, these might be different versions of a work by Cabanilles. In a third case, measures 58–159 of the Batalha de 6º Tom by Torrelhas are virtually identical to a section of one of José Ximénez’s Batallas.

Origins of the organ batalla/batalha

In approaching this topic, a person might ask what actually makes a composition a battle. The most basic consideration is the title. It is a battle if the composer says it is. However, battle pieces generally imitate the commotion of war with busy voicing, ostinato figures, lively rhythms, and percussive chords that simulate musket or cannon fire. They also often imitate the music of battle in the form of trumpet signals or fanfares. It is perhaps this trait that makes the music sound warlike in the 21st century. Trumpet signals are still in limited use in today’s military and are familiar to most listeners from ceremonies and the entertainment media.

The earliest music with these characteristics is the 14th-century caccia, which imitates the hunt with fanfares and rallying cries. A 15th-century battaglia by Heinrich Isaac for instruments with keyboard accompaniment has several characteristics that appear in most later battle music, such as ostinato figures and alternating duple and triple meter. It is interesting to note that Isaac also may have written his work for voices first, since Bianca Becherini found a poem whose text matches the music.

The music that began the battle craze in earnest, perhaps because it so cleverly captured the sounds of battle despite being written for unaccompanied voice, was Clément Janequin’s chanson La guerre. It immortalized a French victory over Swiss and Italian forces at the Battle of Marignano in 1515. Written in two large sections, this is a four-voice vocal work filled with a variety of techniques for making it sound warlike. Melodies imitate the calls of war trumpets, using actual tunes employed in battlefield communication. The onomatopoeic text that accompanies these may have come directly from the syllables players used when learning their music. Triadic figures in a simple harmonic background reflect the ensemble formation trumpeters of the time used, and quick notes simulate both the action of battle and more of the ceremonial trumpet sound.

La guerre was wildly popular and quickly spread across Europe, not only in its original form but also in imitations and transcriptions. Fifteen years later Matthias Werrecore wrote a retort, La battaglia taliana, commemorating an Italian victory over the French. Published in Germany, it was known everywhere as Die Kleine Schlacht, with Janequin’s chanson now being called Die Große Schlacht. Werrecore borrowed not only Janequin’s key (F Ionian) but copied the beginning motive from La guerre’s Secunda pars. This opening gesture, or variants of it, as well as the F-based mode, appear in a number of battles and tientos. I believe that Janequin’s motive was so widely admired because it was more than just a clever compositional device: it also accurately captured the sound of battle trumpets, both harmonically and melodically. 

The trumpet

To understand just what this battle sound was like, it is helpful to know a little about the trumpets that created it. From ancient times until the modern invention of radio, the trumpet was the primary means of battlefield communication. Art from ancient Egypt shows trumpet-playing soldiers on the march. After a hiatus following the fall of Rome, the trumpet appeared again in Europe as war booty collected from the Saracens. As the art of trumpet making progressed, the instruments developed from examples that could play only one low note to models that could play more than an octave above middle C and had a few diatonic notes. The trumpet ensemble became a symbol of power in the Renaissance court, and trumpet players were valued more highly than other performers.

Prior to 1975, scholars knew much about the Renaissance trumpet through two books published during the 17th century. These were Marin Mersenne’s Harmonie Universelle (1635), and Girolamo Fantini’s Modo para Imparare a sonare di Tromba (1638). Both books contain examples of battle trumpet calls, with syllables written under the notes, possibly to indicate tonguing but apparently also to aid the instrumentalist in learning the music. Scholars were able to see by studying the trumpet tunes that Janequin and his imitators had used real battle music in their compositions. While the syllables Mersenne and Fantini indicated were not the same as those Janequin used, that did not mean Janequin’s were not accurate for his time and location.

In 1970 historian Edward Tarr published a facsimile and translation of a third manuscript, Cesare Bendinelli’s Tutta l’arte della Trombetta. In 1614, Bendinelli had donated to a library his instrument and a manuscript containing a wealth of music and pedagogical material, and there they had lain for the next three and a half centuries. Bendinelli had gone a step further than Mersenne and Fantini. He described not only the notes but also the system by which Renaissance trumpeters played:

Here all the trumpeters begin to play, in the field, at princely courts, or in other places. I point out that a single [player] begins and the others follow in order, as is the custom . . . First the grosso; second the vulgano; third, alto e basso, that is, he who imitates the sonata with his notes, only lower, and who has to be quite expert; fourth the one who leads; and fifth, the clarino, who avoids octaves since they clash and are not used by those who understand music.

We can understand now why a Renaissance sovereign might have required twenty-four trumpeters. A chart of the harmonic series shows what notes each of the performers named by Bendinelli would have played (Example 1).

Understanding that Renaissance trumpeters played as an ensemble rather than as soloists now clarifies why composers so often imitated the opening gesture of La guerre’s Secunda pars. It represented not only the notes but also the harmony of the war trumpet sound of Janequin’s time. James South implies that even Janequin’s key of F may have been taken from practical example. Bendinelli’s own trumpet sounds close to our modern key of E, which may have been the F of his time and place.⁹ Bendinelli labeled the chart describing his own trumpet’s range as Trombetta Antigua, perhaps referring to the older war trumpet as contrasted with the newer C trumpet that had replaced it.

Example 2 shows how Bendinelli’s battle trumpet formation appears in Janequin’s much-imitated second section. In the first measure, all voices simulate trumpet harmony; then the bass and tenor sing the lines that the grosso and vulgano trumpets normally would have played. The rhythm of the short notes with the syllables “Fre re le le lan fan” is that of the rotta, a flourish with which both military and ceremonial trumpet music might end. I have discovered that the rotta figure features in many organ battles (Example 3). 

Perhaps the most imitated trumpet motive Janequin uses is the Boutez selle (“put on the saddle”) (Example 4). Distinctive and easily heard through the busy texture of the chanson, this figure appears in all of the Renaissance trumpet methods. In Bendinelli’s it is entitled Buta sella and includes an example of mnemonic syllables like those Janequin may have had in mind when he wrote La guerre. The Boutez selle figure appears repeatedly in the organ battles, and I have observed that it is often accompanied by battle trumpet harmony (Example 4).

The organ battles of Iberia do not simply copy Janequin’s chanson, however. They use fanfares and other trumpet-like figures that the composers no doubt heard as part of ceremonies, or perhaps even composed for trumpet as well (Example 5). Because these figures are still used today for similar purposes, we recognize them immediately.

Portuguese and Spanish organ battles also depart from Janequin in their overall structure. The actual battle depiction in La guerre, Secunda Pars, falls into roughly two parts. The first uses trumpet motives, and the second drum and gunfire sounds. The texture remains quite consistently in four voices. There are some meter changes, but the listener does not perceive discrete sections. 

Iberian organ battles, on the other hand, are distinctly sectional. The texture varies between full block chords and the battle ensemble depiction of solo voice over triads (on the organ these can also appear under the chords). Meter changes often delimit the sections. The unique shape and style of Iberian battle music developed due to the influence of three musical elements exclusive to Spain and Portugal and their colonies in the western hemisphere. These are the villancico, the ensalada, and the particular direction Iberian organ builders took with their creations.

The impact of the villancico, ensalada, and Iberian organ developments

The first of these influences, the villancico, vilancete in Portuguese, is a song form. Villancicos had vernacular text, folk melodies, and an energetic rhythmic style replete with syncopation, hemiola, and meter changes. The villancico was strophic with a refrain (estribillo) and sometimes many verses (coplas). Villancico-like characteristics in the organ battles may include changing meters, hemiola, and a dance-like 3+3+2 rhythm that often appears at cadences (Example 6).

At first a secular form, the villancico moved into the realm of liturgy as devotional coplas were created to accompany estribillos that often remained secular. It became customary to perform these following each lesson at Vespers and during the elevation of the Host during the Mass.¹² Buelow suggests that battle pieces, closely related to the villancicos as they were, would also have been performed at the same points in the Mass.¹³ Phillip II of Spain banned the performance of villancicos in his chapel in 1596, but his complaint apparently was that they were sung in Spanish rather than Latin, and not that they were too spirited. The rest of the Iberian peninsula ignored this prohibition, and the villancico remained popular in Spanish and Latin American churches until the 19th century.

A popular theme for villancicos was the battle between good and evil. A song might depict a battle between the Virgin or the newborn Christ Child and Lucifer. Often the battle image might become more worldly. One example from mid-17th century Coimbra begins with a symbolic battle between divine and worldly love, but then turns into a skirmish between Portuguese and Spanish troops. Amid the repeated cries of “Long live divine love!” comes the text:

Viva el Amor divino 

Que nos ha quitado 

la prisión esquiva

De un ciego traidor.   

Praise the divine Love

Who has rid us

Of the unreachable prison

Of a blind traitor.

It is not surprising that some images of actual war might creep into the texts of sacred music. During the 17th century, Portugal was often at war, both battling for political separation from Spain and sparring with Spain in the western hemisphere, as they divided up the Americas between them.

A second factor in the development of organ battle music was the ensalada. The word means “salad,” and in fact the ensalada was a hodge-podge, a kind of musical revue made up of hymns and villancicos, sometimes acted out. These were performed on feast days and were especially popular at Christmas, New Year, and Epiphany. Ensaladas were sung and accompanied by an interesting variety of wind instruments, all of them loud. A composition might specify two trumpets and a schalmei, although the oboe and organ were also popular. 

Because the ensalada was made up of a variety of individual pieces, it was by definition a sectional music form. Spanish keyboard music already had a sectional genre, the tiento, one based on imitation similar to the Italian ricercar. Organists had simply to move from accompanying an ensalada to writing one for the organ alone. Ricercar-like imitation, usually at the octave, appears in some battles (Example 7), and authors often include battles in discussions of the tiento.

The third factor to influence the development of Iberian organ battle music was the instrument itself. At the beginning of the 16th century, Spanish and Portuguese organs were constructed by Flemish organ builders and were the same as those in other parts of Europe. Flemish practices continued in the Catalonian region of Spain, but in Castile and Portugal local organ builders took the instrument in a new direction. 

One difference was the divided manual, or medio registro. Each half of the manual, from middle C down and from middle C# up, could have its own registration. This allowed a small instrument much more variety than it might have with just one setting for the entire manual. Composers wrote pieces for medio registro with one hand soloing and the other playing an accompaniment. On a medio registro instrument, an organist could use different registrations to create an echo effect with this type of imitation. In the battles we often see paired imitation with a figure played first in one octave and then in another (Example 8).

Another improvement was the swell box, which appears to have been developed in Spain before anywhere else in Europe.¹⁵ Some of the enclosed pipes included reeds. The swell could potentially create echo effects without changes of octave or registration (Example 9). Some Spanish organs of the 17th century even had devices that allowed quick change of registration, although this was by no means universal. 

Organs became more versatile as organ makers learned to build pipes that imitated the sounds of other instruments. Pipes might do a credible job of mimicking the bassoon, the oboe, buzzing reed instruments such as the crumhorn, schalmei, and dulzian, and trumpets in all registers. The organ could play these sounds with more volume and a greater range than could performers on the actual instruments, sounding a death knell for these players who until that time had been highly valued. 

During the 17th century organ builders began to place trumpet-shaped reed pipes horizontally for more brilliant tonal effect and visual beauty. Almost every battle has at least one solo that might have been played on horizontal reeds against a background of a quieter reed chorus (Example 10). However, Doderer believes that organists would also have used horizontal reeds for dense chordal passages, creating a truly immense volume of sound (Example 11).

Not all Iberian organs were equipped with accessory stops to simulate percussion instruments as was the one at Lérida Cathedral (it also had bells and six different birdsongs). However, composers definitely assumed that performers would imitate this effect through articulation. Batalha famoza includes an instruction to play the left hand quickly in order to imitate musket fire (Example 12). Possibly this could be turned into a special effect, since the full sound of a pipe might not speak when played with a very short stroke.

These organs had fewer pedals than do modern ones. Organs surviving from the 17th century generally have from one to three pedals that might play C, F, and/or G, depending on the organ’s basic pitch (some were based on 24′ F stops rather than the 16′ C stops common in Germany).

Performance considerations

Developing insight into the trumpet sounds Iberian organists were emulating in their compositions throws new light on how this music should be played. The triadic accompaniment to a solo line should not hide in the background, but sound like a trumpet chorus. The organist can phrase a fanfare or battle call so that it sounds as if an actual trumpeter were playing it.

Understanding the organ of the time provides additional clues to bringing this music to life. Sutton suggests using an organ with at least two manuals to create the contrast that one medio registro keyboard could generate.¹⁷ Use pedals sparingly, since the organs for which the battles were written could only play sustained notes in common cadence pitches. One registration possibility would be a strong solo reed and bright reed chorus contrasted with full organ at sectional divisions. Barbara Owen suggests avoiding gaps in the registration or allowing it to become too foundational or too top-heavy.

Battle music remains a satisfying part of the organ literature today. Because their trumpet fanfares and battle signal motives persist as part of our aural culture, modern audiences still respond to this sound. Today we use battle music in concert rather than as liturgical repertoire, since tastes in church music have changed. However, battle music might make a satisfying postlude on a festive occasion, much as this music was used four centuries ago. 

Notes

1. Mary Ellen Sutton, A study of the 17th-century Iberian organ batalla (Ann Arbor: UMI, 1978), 142–143.

2. Gerhard Doderer, Orgelmusik und Orgelbau im Portugal des 17. Jahrhunderts: Unteruchungen an Hand des MS 964 d. Biblioteca Pública in Braga (Tutzing: Hans Schneider, 1978), 198–199.

3. Sutton, Iberian organ batalla, 92.

4. Josep Elías wrote on the title page of a collection of the master’s works, “Ante ruet mundus quam surget Cabanilles secundus.” George J. Buelow, A History of Baroque Music (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2004), 382.

5. Mary Jane Corry, “A Spanish-Austrian Battle.” Music/The AGO and RCCO Magazine (March 1970), 35.

6. Sutton, Iberian organ batalla, 65.

7. Cesare Bendinelli, The Entire Art of Trumpet Playing (1614), trans. Edward H. Tarr (Nashville: The Brass Press, 1975), 12.

8. Monteverdi provides a written-out example of the trumpet ensemble in the Toccata that opens his opera, Orfeo, 1607. See Example 13.

9. James South, “References to trumpet music in the battle chansons of Clément Janequin.” DMA diss., University of North Texas, 1990. RILM Abstracts of Music Literature, EBSCOhost.

10. Renaissance trumpets were generally pitched between modern B and F.

11. Walton, Clifford, History of the British Standing Army, A.D. 1660–1700 (London: Harrison and Sons, 1894), p. 467.

12. Buelow, History of Baroque Music, 371.

13. Ibid., 380.

14. Manuel Carlos De Brito, “A Little-Known Collection of Portuguese Baroque Villancicos and Romances,” Royal Musical Association Research Chronicle, No. 15 (1979), 17–37. Translation by Dr. Miguel Chuaqui, Professor of Composition at the University of Utah.

15. Douglas Earl Bush and Richard Kassel, eds., The Organ: An Encyclopedia (New York: Taylor and Francis, 2005), 548.

16. Doderer, Orgelmusik und Orgelbau, 203.

17. Sutton, Iberian organ batalla, 123.

18. Barbara Owen, The Registration of Baroque Organ Music (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1997), 130–134. 

Zion’s Lutheran Church, East Germantown, Indiana

A native of Indiana, Michael Rathke received his early organbuilding training with Goulding & Wood, Inc. He subsequently served a formal five-year apprenticeship plus a further two journeyman years with C.B. Fisk, Inc. In 2002 he traveled to England to work with Mander Organs, assisting with the refurbishment of the 1871 Willis organ in London’s Royal Albert Hall and the restoration of the 1766 George England organ at the Danson Mansion in Kent. Upon his return to the United States in 2004, Rathke established his own workshop, where his focus continues to be the building, restoration, and conservation of fine mechanical-action instruments.

I first visited Zion’s Lutheran Church in 1986, near the beginning of my organbuilding apprenticeship. I recall surprise in discovering that the venerable M.P. Möller, with whose plentiful local electro-pneumatic installations I was familiar, had once built mechanical-action instruments. If Zion’s organ were representative, Möller’s tracker output had clearly been more than respectable. Apart from a stiff key action, the organ was a pleasure to play, and its 16 stops made a grand sound in this relatively small church.

My next visit came 25 years later, shortly after setting up my own workshop nearby. On this occasion I was less struck by the Möller’s quality than by its evident deterioration. The organ looked fine, having recently received cosmetic repairs; its basic sound also remained fairly convincing, if not precisely as I remembered. But mechanically, the organ was a mess. The key action was heavy, sticky, and unpredictable; both manual windchests were suffering from obvious and severe sponsil damage; and the two reservoirs (supply-house units that had replaced the original double-rise) were living on borrowed time. Ciphers that could not be rectified abounded; other notes would barely play because their channels had been excessively bled to alleviate sponsil ciphers. The parishioners of Zion’s remained proud of their historic organ, admired its sound, and affirmed that it had served well since arriving in 1933 from a neighboring church. But it had also been an ongoing maintenance challenge. This vigorous but small congregation was understandably weary of spending money at regular intervals and being assured time and again that the organ was now “good as new,” only to find that each assurance had been optimistic, at best. 

When we were asked to take over the organ’s routine tuning and maintenance, we were also charged with making appropriate long-term recommendations. Our first was simply a year of watchful waiting, during which we proposed to carry out touch-up tuning and minor repairs but to do no major work, striving to keep near-term maintenance spending to an absolute minimum. We were thus able to observe the Möller through a full cycle of heating and cooling seasons, especially important given its location partly within an uninsulated organ chamber. This evaluation period also allowed the church a welcome respite from excessive cash outlays and to consider, for the first time, comprehensively restoring its fine but long-suffering pipe organ.

Several things soon became apparent. First, the 1933 relocation from St. Paul’s Lutheran in nearby Richmond—carried out by “two farmers and a mechanic,” according to local tradition—had begun the instrument’s woes. The movers had clearly been competent general craftsmen, but they appear not to have been trained organbuilders. Second, the masonry chamber within which some two-thirds of the organ resided was not well sealed, leaking cold air in winter and hot air in summer, along with the odd bit of blown snow and rain. Third, although the chamber tone opening was more than ample and allowed good tonal egress, the chamber itself was almost too small for the organ it enclosed. The pedal chests had been wedged in at contrary angles, with key action run cross-lots and cobbled together from an assortment of wood tracker stock and soft copper wire. Fourth, the movers had provided absolutely no tuning or maintenance access. To carry out such basic operations as adjusting key action nuts required removal of most of the pedal pipes; to tune the Oboe necessitated either the removal of façade pipes or a precarious climb high above the pedal division.

During this year-long interim, Zion’s organ committee wrestled with a number of options and contending opinions from parishioners, some of whom felt strongly that it was time to “stop pouring money down a black hole, discard the old Möller, and replace it with an ‘up-to-date’ electronic.” While congregational sentiment ran generally against this course, especially among clergy and musicians, many felt rebuilding the Möller or selling it outright would make the most sense. Others in this 190-year-old church advocated a comprehensive restoration, emphasizing the organ’s history, accumulated stewardship, and importance to the fine music program for which Zion’s was known. The church solicited bids for all options, each of which was studied and debated in detail.

Following a vote by the entire church membership, M.P. Rathke, Inc. was awarded the contract for a full and strict mechanical restoration of the Möller. The organ committee chair later explained that we had tendered the winning bid in large part because it was also the low bid, the cost of comprehensively restoring the Möller being significantly less even than a modest electronic to replace it. (The previous sentence is worth re-reading for anyone fortunate enough to possess a historic instrument from any builder.)

During the course of restoration the organ was dismantled in its entirety. Pipework, which upon initial inspection had appeared clean and in relatively good condition, was stored in the church fellowship hall; everything else was taken to our workshop for cleaning, refurbishment, and repair. While in-shop work was proceeding, parishioners were busy tuckpointing, insulating, sealing, caulking, and painting the organ chamber. They also removed carpet from the choir area in front of the organ, sanded and refinished the yellow pine floor below, and invested in a simple humidification unit, built into the existing forced-air HVAC system.

Physical repairs, reinforcement, and reconstruction 

The mechanical restoration was labor-intensive but relatively straightforward. We discovered that sponsil failure had been caused not only by the common condition of overheated, dry winter air, but also by sagging at midpoint of both manual windchests owing to glueline creep. Grid sponsils had thus opened on their undersides like the folds of an accordion in response to 115 years of gravity. After patching and regluing the sponsils, we provided reinforcement to the grid rails of both manual chests to prevent future deflection and to ensure that sponsil repairs would remain permanent. Keyboards were cleaned, flattened, polished, and rebushed; key tails were refelted and releathered. The Swell to Great coupler was comprehensively refurbished. Drawknobs were cleaned and relacquered, stop jambs were rebushed, and a purpose-made rotary blower switch (replacing a massive and unsightly industrial knife switch) was manufactured and applied to the old Bellows Signal stopknob. Kristen Farmer of Winston-Salem, North Carolina, was engaged to strip the many layers of flat black paint that had been applied to the nameboard and to carry out a painstaking restoration of the original silver-leaf stenciling (Photo 1). Five components required remanufacturing, either in full or in part:

1. Double-rise reservoir—It is clear that the organ’s original 5′ x 8′ double-rise reservoir survived the 1933 move to Zion’s along with the rest of the instrument. But in the early 1960s the old reservoir was cut into pieces and replaced by a pair of small and inadequate supply house units, likely because of the difficulty of carrying out proper releathering within the extremely tight confines of the chamber. Most of the old reservoir was discarded at that time, but a few pieces were reused as walkboards, bracing, and a jury-rigged post shoring up one corner of the organ’s framework (ironically, replacing a structural post that had been hacked away to gain demolition access to the old reservoir).

Replicating the reservoir turned out to be less difficult than envisioned, for enough fragments remained that we were able to determine all dimensions and relevant construction details. After developing a working design, we entrusted the actual fabrication to
J. Zamberlan & Co. of Wintersville, Ohio (Photo 2). I first met Joe Zamberlan in 1989 during our respective apprenticeships with Fisk and Noack; our similar training and philosophies have since led to collaborations on a number of projects, Zion’s being but the most recent.

2. Pedal key action—When the Möller was built for St. Paul’s Lutheran in 1897, its internal layout was fairly typical: the Swell stood directly behind the Great at impost level, with pedal chests located near floor level, one on the CC side and the other on the ## side (Sketch A, p. 28). At Zion’s, however, this configuration was impossible owing to the absence of space on the ## side. The 1933 movers thus placed all pedal resources on the CC side, where an L-shaped chamber configuration afforded almost enough room.

However, the Zion’s chamber also required the Pedal chests to be located farther toward the back wall (away from the player) than at St. Paul’s. The original action had employed a unique rollerboard, with cranked arms below the pedalboard and rollers running straight back from the keydesk; trackers had then continued at right angles to the Pedal chests. With the chests forced rearward, the 1933 movers chose not the preferable solution of extending the rollerboard and maintaining the original geometry, but rather the Rube Goldberg solution of chiseling away part of the chamber wall and running trackers at a 45-degree angle (Sketch B, p. 28). This somewhat counter-intuitive approach did get the job done, more or less, but it also reduced tracker motion by nearly 50% and imposed undesirable friction and lateral stresses on the Pedal action. We constructed a new rollerboard—essentially a “stretched” replica of the original (Photo 3) utilizing every scrap of old material we could salvage—and installed it in a manner consistent with Möller’s 1897 design (Sketch C, p. 28.)

3. Pedal winding and stop action— The asymmetrical chamber at Zion’s prompted the 1933 movers to choose yet another unusual solution. Because the Bourdon 16′ chest was slightly too long to fit the available space, it was jammed in askew; the slightly shorter Flute 8′ chest fit alongside with no difficulty. Both pedal chests were then served by the same key action run, but winding was less straightforward because each chest employed ventil rather than slider stop action. Thus two wind ducts were required, but only the 16′ Bourdon chest could be winded easily. Undaunted, the movers ran a second galvanized duct straight through the Bourdon chest rollerboard (!), cut a rough hole in the 8′ Flute chest bung board, inserted the duct, puttied it in place, and then located stop action ventils as best they could. Among other drawbacks, this clumsy arrangement made impossible the removal of the Flute chest bung board for maintenance. (Photo 4) The 2013 solution entailed attaching both stop-action ventils to the reservoir (their original location), constructing new poplar wind ducts to match remnants of the originals, and installing in a manner consistent with other Möllers of the period. (Photo 5)

4. Floor frame and building frame replication—During the 1960s, the Möller underwent a rough removal of portions of its floor and building frames to facilitate demolition of its original double-rise reservoir. Instead of reinstalling the load-bearing post, beam, and floor frame, workers simply nailed up scabs of material left over from the old reservoir, which at best provided crude and insufficient support. (Photo 6) We manufactured and installed replicas of the original floor frame and building frame, taking care to match wood species and copy joinery techniques from the rest of the instrument. 

5. Replica reservoir placement and Great wind duct re-routing—During its time at Zion’s, the Möller’s supreme drawback had been a lack of maintenance access. The general culprit was a narrow (8′2′′) chamber opening, compared with the width of the organ’s main internal structure (8′0′′), but specific obstacles included the location and orientation of both the original double-rise reservoir and the Great wind duct.

The 2013 solution was twofold. First, we turned the new reservoir 90 degrees from its original orientation, which allowed us to respect the essential layout of the original wind system while simultaneously opening a clear access path into the organ. (Sketch C) The end-on positioning of the new bellows will also make possible its easy removal for future releathering, as opposed to the crosswise orientation of the original, whose zero-clearance installation in 1933 surely contributed to its eventual demise.

The Great wind duct posed a more perplexing challenge. The original duct was intact in 2012; unfortunately, it completely blocked the only possible service access into the organ. The revised duct now exits the reservoir, crosses under the maintenance walkway, rises vertically, crosses back over the walkway, and finally makes a 90-degree turn forward to enter the Great pallet box. Although the new duct’s construction is somewhat complex, every effort was made to replicate winding characteristics of the original: routing was kept as direct as possible, and cross-sections were deliberately made slightly oversize to compensate both for increased duct length (an additional 19′′) and for necessary additional twists and turns.

Tonal restoration

Successful restorative voicing depends on a number of factors including sufficient intact material, the restorer’s familiarity with other instruments of the school and period, a cautious and deliberate approach, and especially an agenda-free willingness to allow pipes to tell the voicer what they want to do rather than vice versa. In the following paragraphs we will describe the Möller’s altered tonal state in 2012, outline its evaluation, and summarize how we undertook to reconstruct the 1897 sound.

In 1986, Möller Opus 188 still possessed many of the sonorities that inspired worshipers almost a century prior. By 2012, some beautiful sounds remained, although in greatly attenuated form. The exact cause and timing are difficult to pinpoint, in part because church records from the period are sketchy, but also because of the involvement of so many different technicians, some of whom attempted experimental voicing in a manner both curiously random and spectacularly unsuccessful. The physical evidence furnished by the pipes themselves in 2012 seems the most reliable record and will be related here.

All wood pipes were in essentially original condition, requiring little apart from minor regulation and physical repair. The organ’s sole reed stop—a sweet and assertive Oboe and Bassoon 8′—was likewise in decent physical shape apart from some badly torn tuning scrolls. It had undergone tonal work in 1970 by a local technician who, incredibly, chose to sign each C resonator in block capital letters incised with an awl. Fortunately, his voicing efforts were limited to lightly kinking and roughly cross-filing numerous tongues, both of which steps were reversed in 2013. The entire organ had unfortunately been repitched in 2000 to A-440, predictably choking off many reeds; restoring the original pitch of A-435 helped greatly in recovering the Oboe’s stability, promptness, and robustness of tone.

The metal fluework was a mixed bag. On the plus side, almost all interior pipework was physically intact, if not tonally unaltered. Pipes that were slotted in 1897 happily remained so; pipes originally cone-tuned had been fitted with sleeves but fortunately left close to their natural speaking lengths, so the net tonal effect was negligible. Numerous feet had collapsed from years of heavy-handed cone tuning and the use of thin foot material in the first place; we repaired this damage as a matter of course.

On the minus side, many inside pipes had been randomly altered by a variety of bizarre procedures. About a dozen lower lips had been pinched tight against the languids to where only the original coarse nicking allowed wind through the flue; these pipes murmured more than spoke. (This curious method was limited primarily to the Quintadena bass of the 8′ Aeoline.) A distressing number of windways had been aggressively filed open, removing significant material from both languid and lower lip. Upper lips of many mid-range principals had been torn and distorted; some appeared to have been gnawed by rats. Most front pipes, recipients in 2000 of a fresh coat of gold paint, barely spoke in 2012. While the paint job itself was competently executed from a cosmetic standpoint, obvious pre-existing damage had been simply painted over. Examples included out-of-round pipe bodies, dents, missing or broken tuning scrolls, collapsed lead toes, broken ears, and hooks held on by little more than a vestige of solder. Most front pipe windways had also received a generous infusion of paint (!), completely clogging the original nicking and materially reducing flueway cross-sections. Many dangled from their hooks, with wind leaking audibly at collapsed toes; this latter defect became evident only after the friction tape applied in 2000 as a band-aid repair dried out and began to unravel. Zinc conveyancing from the Great windchest was damaged or missing in many instances, causing weak or dead notes; a smooth dynamic transition between façade pipes and their interior continuations (Great Open Diapason, Dulciana, Octave) was nonexistent.

At this point we faced a critical dilemma. On one hand, we had been hired only to restore the Möller mechanically and to perform minor pipe repairs. Wholesale restorative voicing and major pipe repairs were neither contemplated nor included in the contract price. On the other hand, some pipe damage and tonal alterations became clear only after the restored action and wind system allowed pipes to be heard under full wind and precise control. We faced an uncomfortable choice between simply fulfilling the terms of our contract—delivering a perfectly functioning but poor sounding instrument—or moving ahead with necessary tonal work for which we could never be fully compensated. We ultimately chose the latter, not because it was a sound business decision—it was in fact a terrible business decision—but because of the virtual certainty that, if we didn’t, no one ever would. Then this fine and rare pipe organ, mechanically sound but tonally compromised, would likely be discarded eventually. (It is axiomatic that tonally ugly instruments are seldom preserved, no matter how well they function.) In the end, we simply couldn’t bear the thought. And so we prayed, put our noses to the grindstone, and forged ahead.

We tackled the façade first, essentially moving our pipe shop into the Zion’s sanctuary for a full month. Most of the 33 large speaking front pipes required rounding up on large mandrels, as well as removal of visible dents. Components such as ears whose proper reattachment would have involved soldering—impossible without scorching the gold lacquer —were repaired using clear epoxy. The most difficult operation was removing the enormous amount of paint that in 2000 had been sprayed down into the windways, filling in nicking and coating languids and lower lips with an unwelcome layer of crud. Our front pipe work was accompanied at all times by moderate sweat and considerable sotto voce profanity.

Inside pipes were in some ways easier because they were smaller, but there were also many more of them. A few had to be completely remade; a hundred or so more received careful corrective voicing to match their untouched neighbors; a few hundred more required little apart from cleaning, re-prepping, and normal regulation for tone, power, and speech. The final result is as much a testimony to Möller’s original pipemaking and voicing as to our care in resurrecting them.

Have the results repaid our efforts? On the one hand, it is not too much to say that Möller Opus 188 is once again mechanically reliable and tonally impressive, with a richness and versatility that compare favorably with the best of New England work from the period. As restorers, we are exceptionally proud of this magnificent pipe organ we have labored to bring back to life. On the other hand, ours is admittedly the pride of parents, or at least foster parents, and thus similarly subjective. The final assessment must rest with history, which will be informed by countless organists who have yet to experience this remarkable and historic instrument. We therefore encourage all interested readers to visit Zion’s Lutheran Church, to play and listen, and to decide for themselves. Especially we invite you to share with us your reactions and impressions. 

Restorers of the Organ

Joey Jarboe

Caleb Ringwald

Nicholas Ringwald

Paul Rathke

Michael Rathke

Special thanks to Fritz Noack, Christopher Sedlak, and Timothy McEwan.

Situated on a hill overlooking the city of Lewiston, Maine, the Gothic Basilica of Saints Peter and Paul is visible from a great distance in any direction. Its grand architecture beckons visitors from all over. The interior of the basilica is as sumptuous as its exterior. And among the many treasures of the edifice are the organs.

Lewiston was founded in 1795 along the Androscoggin River. Its industry was supported by cotton mills for many years. By the 1850s the Bates Mill, named for Benjamin E. Bates, for whom Bates College is also named, became the largest employer in Lewiston, remaining so for a century. In the late 1850s, French Canadians began to migrate to Lewiston for job opportunities. A section of Lewiston became known as “Little Canada,” and the city has celebrated its French Canadian character to this day.

Various Protestant congregations were formed, but it would be 1857 before the first Catholic parish, Saint Joseph, was founded. The parish, which was English speaking and serving primarily Irish immigrants, laid the cornerstone for a church along Main Street on June 13, 1864, and finished construction in 1867. The architect was Patrick C. Keely.

The Catholic Bishop of Portland assigned the Reverend Louis Mutsaers to minister to the French-speaking Catholics of Saint Joseph Church. With more than 1,000 souls in the French-speaking Catholic community, Saint Peter Church was founded in 1870, the first French ethnic parish in the diocese. Father Edouard Létourneau of Saint-Hyacinthe, Québec, was named first pastor. The fledgling congregation moved to Saint John Chapel, the second floor of a house on Lincoln Street, coincidentally the first home of Saint Joseph Church. The first Mass, a wedding, was said on July 2, 1870. The Reverend Pierre Hévey became pastor the following year.

The first church

Father Hévey constructed a Gothic church building on Ayers Hill, on Bartlett Street between Ash and College Streets. The cornerstone was laid July 7, 1872, and the edifice was dedicated on May 4, 1873. The substantial building was 116 feet long, 32 feet wide, and crowned by a 160-foot bell tower. The total cost of the building, including land and furnishings, was approximately $100,000. The dedication Mass, attended by 2,000 and presided over by the Bishop of Portland, also witnessed the confirmation of 215 children. The parish school was opened in 1878, and a cemetery was developed. The Sisters of Charity of Saint-Hyacinthe would also establish a hospital, an orphan asylum, and a home for the aged, in addition to teaching in the school. A five-story brick school building accommodating 700 students was opened in 1883 at Lincoln and Chestnut Streets. A second school, for boys, was opened on Bates Street in 1887. By the close of the century, there were 1,721 students in the parish schools.

When Father Hévey left the parish in 1881, administration was turned over to the Dominican Fathers of Lille, France. About this time, Saint Peter became known as Saints Peter and Paul Church. By the late 1890s, church membership neared 10,000 persons, and galleries were added to the church nave, and the building’s basement was enlarged. A brick monastery was built for the Dominicans on Bartlett Street, a building that still stands behind the basilica today. The Dominicans would live here until they returned the parish to the diocese in 1987.

In 1902, Saint Louis Church was founded in Auburn, across the river, but this did little to lessen overcrowding at Saints Peter and Paul Church. In 1904, Father Alexandre Louis Mothon, OP, then pastor of the parish, retained Belgian-native Noël Coumont of Lewiston to design a neo-Gothic edifice to be built of Maine granite at an estimated cost of $250,000. Portland diocesan authorities were duly impressed with Coumont’s work and named him diocesan architect.

Building the present church

The final Mass in the old church was celebrated on February 5, 1905, after which the building was dismantled and demolished. A temporary wooden structure seating 1,200 persons was erected. Adjacent property was acquired, and construction of the lower church was commenced on February 22, 1906. Despite the collapse of a wall on November 9, the lower church was in use for Midnight Mass at Christmas, December 25, 1906. Father Mouthon had resigned and was replaced by the Reverend Antonin Dellaire, OP.

The parish would not complete the upper church for another three decades. In the interim, the diocese created three other parishes in Lewiston: Saint Mary, founded in 1907 in “Little Canada” with 820 families; Holy Family, founded in 1923; and Holy Cross, founded that same year with 575 families.

The diocese granted the Reverend Mannès Marchand, OP, pastor, permission to complete the upper church in 1933. A bid of $361,510 was accepted in April of the following year. Timothy G. O’Connell of Boston had become architect. Construction began in May, and the project would require some 516 boxcars of granite. Slate, copper, and limestone support the roofs.

The exterior was completed in 1935, crowned by twin steeples rising 168 feet with eight spires of granite and concrete. Two fairs would be held in the unfinished interior to raise funds for its completion. The interior was finished on July 18, 1936. The Most Reverend Joseph E. McCarthy, DD, dedicated Saints Peter and Paul Church on October 23, 1938. An all-male choir, recently formed, provided music for the occasion. The total construction price was estimated at $625,000. Five bells, cast for the previous church in 1884 by the McShane foundry of Baltimore, Maryland, were retained for the new towers. In 1948, the magnificent stained glass windows of the nave were installed to the designs of Boston’s Terence O’Duggan, at a cost of $40,000. The building measures 330 feet long, 135 feet wide, and the ceiling rises 64 feet. The pews seat 1,800 persons.

There was considerable posturing to making Saints Peter and Paul the cathedral of the diocese, supplanting Portland’s Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception, founded in 1856 with its church built between 1866 and 1869 to the designs of Patrick C. Keely. Postcards of the Lewiston church were printed and sold, designating it a “cathedral.” However, the move of the seat of the bishop from Portland to Lewiston never occurred.

The building was listed on the National Register of Historic Places on July 14 (Bastille Day), 1983. The second-largest Catholic church in New England, Saints Peter and Paul is exceeded only by Saint Joseph Cathedral of Hartford, Connecticut. In the past two decades, the building has been restored, a heroic multi-million dollar project. The first part of the project, the exterior, took nine years to complete. The interior restoration of the upper church was completed in 2002.

The church’s music history is remarkable. In 1872, a reed organ was acquired, and a Mrs. Martel became organist. Mr. Alcibiad Beique succeeded her. Considered an accomplished organist as he had studied in Belgium, Beique would play the opening program/Mass on the church’s first pipe organ, described below. Beique would leave Lewiston to become organist for the church of Notre Dame in Montréal, Canada. Mr. F. Desanniers next served the parish, though he died about a year after beginning service, having consumed poison thinking it was medicine. Henry F. Roy then served Saints Peter and Paul, remaining until 1925. George C. Giboin then served from 1925 until his death in 1945. From 1945 until 1966, Bernard Piché was organist, while Roland Pineau directed the choirs. Piché was of considerable repute, and was managed as a recitalist by the Colbert-Laberge management group. Pineau continued as organist and choir director until 1973. Luciene Bédard also served as organist, beginning in 1942 and continuing for 54 years. Ida Rocheleau provided music from 1973 until 1982. Kathy Brooks was named music director in 1990. Scott Vaillancourt became music director in 2003 and continues today.

In addition to choral groups for children and adults, the parish sponsored a boys’ band (Fanfare Ste. Cécile) from 1898 until 1947. An extensive boys’ choir for grades 5 through 8 (Les Petits Chanteurs de Lewiston) was established in 1945 and performed operettas and other works in Lewiston and throughout New England until it was disbanded in 1964.

The pipe organs

The first pipe organ for the parish was 1880 Hook & Hastings Opus 1011, a two-manual, 24-rank instrument located in the 1873 church. The case of ash measured 25 feet high, 13 feet wide, nine feet deep. The organ cost $3,500 and was dedicated on Thanksgiving Day, November 25.

The organ was removed from the building prior to demolition and reinstalled in the new lower church in 1906. It was rebuilt and enlarged by Casavant Frères of Saint-Hyacinthe, Québec, Canada, in 1916, as their Opus 665, retaining the Hook & Hastings case and much of the pipework.

In 2004, Casavant Opus 665 was sold to the Church of the Resurrection (Episcopal), New York City, where it was moved and rebuilt by the Organ Clearing House. A series of dedicatory recitals were held for this organ in its new home in 2011.

The upper church Casavant organs together make up the largest church organ in Maine. There are 4,695 pipes in five divisions in the rear gallery, 737 in three divisions in the sanctuary. A four-manual, drawknob console controls the entire organ from the rear gallery; a two-manual console in the sanctuary, which does not function at this time, controls the sanctuary divisions. The organ was designed by Charles-Marie Courboin of Saint Patrick Cathedral, New York City. The contract specification was dated April 4, 1937. Manual compass is 61 notes (C–C); pedal compass (concave, radiating pedalboard) is 32 notes (C–G). The instrument cost $28,000 for the gallery organ, $10,000 for the sanctuary organ. A fifteen-horsepower blower was provided for the gallery organ, and a one-horsepower blower for the sanctuary organ.

Courboin, who travelled to Saint-Hyacinthe to inspect the organ in the factory, played the opening recital on the completed organ, October 4, 1938. An estimated 2,000 persons filled the nave of the church, the first public event to occur in the upper church. The following was his program (a local choral group, Orpheon, also presented three works):

Part I

Concert Overture R. Maitland

Aria No. 3, Suite in D
Johann Sebastian Bach

Sketch No. 3 Schumann

Cantabile Cesar Franck 

Pastorale 2d Symphony
Charles-Marie Widor

Passacaglia and Fugue, C minor
J. S. Bach

Part II

Ave Maria Schubert-Courboin

Choral Prelude J. S. Bach

Choral No. 3 Cesar Franck 

The Lost Chord Sullivan-Courboin

March Heroique Saint-Saens

Casavant crafted the extensive woodworking lining the church nave, including an ornate screen in the sanctuary and the extensive wood supporting the organ and choir gallery, the transept galleries, and the narthex. The project utilizing Maine native red cedar and oak took a year and a half to complete.

Over the years, various renowned organists have concertized on the upper church organs. For instance, the Lewiston-Auburn Chapter of the American Guild of Organists sponsored Marcel Dupré in recital on Monday evening, October 4, 1948, along with three selections presented by the Saint Paul Choral Society. (Admission was $1.20, tax included, students $0.75.) The program for the organ’s tenth anniversary included works by Johann Sebastian Bach, George Frederick Handel, Eric DeLamarter, César Franck, Mr. Dupré, as well as an improvisation on submitted themes—Yankee Doodle and Turkeys in the Tree Top.

The fiftieth anniversary of the Casavant organs was celebrated with a concert on October 4, 1988, given by Brian Franck, organist, with l’Orpheon, conducted by Alexis Cote and accompanied by Luciene Bédard. Alan Laufman of the Organ Historical Society presented Historic Organ Citation #100 for the upper church organs. The upper church organs were heard in recitals during the national convention of the Organ Historical Society on August 19, 1992.

The gallery Casavant has experienced only three tonal alterations since installation. During Mr. Pinché’s tenure, the Grand Orgue 16′ Bombarde was replaced by an 8′ Bourdon. The Solo 16′ Tuba Magna was replaced by a 4′ Orchestral Flute. And the Récit 8′ Trompette was replaced by an 8′ open flute. The 8′ Trompette rank was used for many years in the Casavant in the lower church. It is now in storage, awaiting restoration and reinstallation, or perhaps replacement with a copy, if necessary.

Saints Peter and Paul experienced its largest membership in the 1950s, with more than 15,000 souls on the records. Twenty years later, membership was less than half that number. In 1986, the Dominicans turned administration of the parish back to the diocese. In June of 1996, Saints Peter and Paul was “twinned” with nearby Saint Patrick Catholic Church.

On October 4, 2004, the Vatican raised Saints Peter and Paul Church to the dignity of a minor basilica. The basilica was inaugurated on May 22, 2005, by the Most Reverend Richard Malone, Bishop of Portland. In 2008, the basilica became part of the newly-formed Prince of Peace Parish, which in due time has included all the Catholic parishes of Lewiston. The parish today includes the basilica, Holy Cross, Holy Family, as well as cluster parishes: Holy Trinity, Lisbon Falls, Our Lady of the Rosary, Sabattus, and Saint Francis Mission, Greene (in the summer only). Holy Cross Church has a Casavant organ of two manuals, 25 ranks, installed in 1967.

Saint Mary Church would close in 2000 and become the home of the Franco-American Heritage Center. The Gothic edifice of stone was completed in 1927 to the designs of the same architect as Saints Peter and Paul. It is now used as a performing arts and cultural center, preserving much of the feel of the old church, including its stained glass windows. A photograph at the center’s website reveals that at least the twin cases of the church’s Frazee organ are still present. The organ itself is in storage at the center, awaiting funding for reinstallation.

Saint Joseph Catholic Church was closed October 13, 2009, and sits empty. It is listed on the National Register of Historic Places. Now owned by Central Maine Healthcare, the redbrick Gothic building has been threatened with demolition, though these plans are on hold as of this writing. The building once housed a two-manual Henry Erben organ from 1870, long since replaced by an electronic substitute.

Saint Patrick Catholic Church, facing Kennedy Park along Bates Street at Walnut Street, was founded in 1886. The parish, under the leadership of Monsignor Thomas Wallace, built a grand Gothic church, completed in 1890. Monsignor Wallace was buried in the church crypt. On October 27, 2009, Saint Patrick closed its doors. Its 1893 two-manual Hook & Hastings organ, Opus 1580 (electrified about 1960 by Rostron Kershaw, with minor tonal changes), was removed for relocation to Holy Family Catholic Church of Lewiston, a project partially completed by the Faucher Organ Company of Biddeford, Maine. Completion awaits sufficient funding. This is the first pipe organ for Holy Family Church.

Despite losing its claim as an industrial center in the state, Lewiston today remains the second largest city in Maine, behind Portland. Auburn is located across the Androscoggin River from Lewiston, and the two communities are often considered a single entity. The Lewiston community has experienced a renaissance in recent years.

The seventy-fifth anniversary of the Casavant organs in the upper church was celebrated throughout 2013. The parish sponsors a summer recital series, and that year’s performers included: Karel Paukert; Chris Ganza with Karen Pierce (vocalist); Albert Melton; Randall Mullin; Jacques Boucher with Anne Robert (violinist); Ray Cornils; Julie Huang; Harold Stover; Sean Fleming; and the author. The final program of this series occurred on September 27, featuring Kevin Birch, organist, the Androscoggin Chorale, John Corrie, conductor, and the Men’s Choir of the Basilica, Scott Vaillancourt, director. The program included: Prelude and Fugue in E-flat, BWV 552i, Johann Sebastian Bach; Andante Sostenuto, Symphonie IV, Charles-Marie Widor; Cloches, Marcel Fournier; Carillon de Westminster, Louis Vierne; Sonata I, Alexandre Guilmant, and the Mass for Two Choirs and Two Organs, Widor. Some restorative repairs have been made to the Casavant organs by the Faucher Organ Company of Biddeford, Maine. Ongoing efforts are made to raise funds to complete the project and bring this world-class organ back to its original glory. 

Sources

A Rich Past—A Challenging Future: A Tribute to Ss. Peter and Paul Parish, Saints Peter and Paul Parish, Lewiston, Maine, 1996.

Organ Handbook 1992, Alan M. Laufman, editor, The Organ Historical Society, Richmond, Virginia, 1992, pp. 60–63.

“The Organs of the Church of Ss. Peter & Paul Lewiston, Maine,” Brian Franck and Alan Laufman, The Tracker, vol. 36, no. 2, 1992, pp. 8–13.

Newspaper clippings, Casavant contract information from the basilica archives.

Photography by Stephen Schnurr, except as noted.

The genealogy of a restored instrument

Andrew Forrest began with Orgues Létourneau Limitée in February 1999 and in his current position as Artistic Director, oversees all of the company’s projects. He travels regularly to meet with clients, architects, and acousticians, as well as to supervise the company’s on-site tonal finishing. Mr. Forrest has a keen interest in the art of pipe scaling and has completed studies of the String division of Philadelphia’s Wanamaker Organ and the 1955 Aeolian-Skinner pipe organ at Winthrop University among others. He served on the local organizing committee for the joint AIO-ISO 2010 convention held in Montréal, and in October 2011, Forrest was elected to the American Institute of Organbuilders’ Board of Directors for a three-year term. He holds a bachelor of arts degree in political science and economics from Carleton University in Ottawa, Ontario. An organist himself, Andrew Forrest has two children and lives in Mont-Saint-Hilaire, Québec.

The present pipe organ at St. James United Church is unique among Montréal’s many interesting organs because much of the organ’s pipework dates back to an 1889 instrument by E.D. Wadsworth & Brothers, Organ Builders. Edward Wadsworth opened his own organbuilding company in Manchester, England, in 1861 after apprenticing with Kirtland & Jardine; his family subsequently continued in the organbuilding trade under various forms of the Wadsworth name until 1946, when the company was absorbed by Jardine & Company of Manchester. Present-day British organbuilding colleagues have suggested that earlier Wadsworth organs with mechanical actions are superior to the later pneumatic examples, but it remains clear that the Wadsworth name never achieved the status of other British builders during the latter half of the 19th century, such as William Hill, “Father” Henry Willis, or T.C. Lewis.

Perhaps sensing new business opportunities, Edward Wadsworth moved to Montréal in 1887 to establish a branch office of the family company at 298 Craig Street (which today is called rue St-Antoine). The company built two instruments in Canada, the first being a small tracker organ of ten stops for Trivett Memorial Church in Exeter, Ontario, in 1888. The second project for St. James Methodist Church (as the church was originally known) was on a grander scale; the handwritten contract dated June of 1888 was for a grand pipe organ of 49 stops with “tractile” key action. The price for the new organ was established at $11,550, less $2,375 for the church’s old pipe organ. For reference, the signing of the Wadsworth contract took place at the same time as construction was ongoing in the workshops of Samuel and Claver Casavant of a 73-stop instrument for Montréal’s Basilique Notre-Dame; the price for the Casavant organ was some $24,800.

With a 32′ flue stop in the pedal division and two divisions on each of the three manuals, the Wadsworth organ was a novel and complex instrument. The two divisions per manual could be played separately, or coupled together by the touch of a thumb piston under each manual. In addition, each manual had its own drawknobs for appropriate pedal stops and a dedicated “pedalier” thumb piston to bring the selected registration into play as one moved from manual to manual. The middle manual controlled the Great and Back Great divisions, while the Solo—in its own swell box—was partnered on the lowest manual with the unenclosed Choir. The Swell and Echo divisions, playable from the third manual, were enclosed together.

A comparison of the 1888 contract to the instrument’s final specification shows that two optional stops—a 16′ Lieblich Gedackt for the Choir and a 16′ Contra Fagotto for the Solo—were added as the organ was being built. Stops were equally rearranged within the specification, presumably for a better musical result: The 16′ Contra Fagotto was moved to the Back Great division with the Great 8′ and 4′ reeds, permitting the reeds to be brought in or retired collectively in a ventil-like fashion via the thumb pistons under the Great manual. The 8′ Vox Humana likewise migrated from the Solo division to the Echo, while the 8′ Gamba and 8′ Voix Celeste stops came together in the Solo from their separated locations in the Swell and Echo divisions respectively.

Lynnwood Farnam served as organist for St. James Methodist Church from 1904 to 1905, and was well acquainted with the Wadsworth instrument. His notebook entry on the organ provides many details on the as-built stoplist and forms the basis for our understanding of the completed 1889–91 Wadsworth instrument. Though Farnham’s pages on the St. James organ are typically meticulous, it is unclear what kind of key action or key actions Wadsworth employed in his instrument; but it seems highly unlikely that the organ had purely mechanical key action. At the least, some form of pneumatic action would have been employed to manage the complexity of two divisions per manual. Farnam does list all couplers as operating pneumatically, with the console having the six usual unison couplers along with sub and octave couplers for the Swell manual, and a Swell to Great Sub coupler.

Unfortunately, the luster literally wore off the Wadsworth instrument at St. James Church within two years of its completion in 1889. The new organ was frequently crippled by problems arising from humidity and heating within the new church building. The church acknowledged this in an indenture document signed with Wadsworth in June  1891, wherein the complaint was also lodged that the organ’s “exterior has not preserved its absolutely fresh appearance.” The agreement offered Wadsworth an additional $1,000 to repair and otherwise complete his instrument, which, according to the document, had already been in place for two years.

The results of this remedial work were proclaimed satisfactory in a letter dated September 23, 1891, from the agreed-upon arbiter, Frederick Archer, to John Torrance, Secretary to the Trustees of St. James Methodist Church:

My dear Sir,

I have this day examined in detail the organ erected by Mr. E. Wadsworth in St. James Church, Montreal with the following results.

I find the wind supply is now ample for every possible purpose, its transmission to every junction of the instrument with uninterrupted “steadiness”. The wind trunks, sound boards, etc. are perfectly air tight and the whole of the mechanism is in thoroughly satisfactory condition.

The repairs have been carefully and substantially done in full accordance with the agreement entered into with him in June last, and with ordinary care and attention, the instrument will, to the best of my knowledge and belief, be now found entirely adequate to all legitimate demands made on it.

. . . I am pleased to be able to report so favourably, but as Mr. Wadsworth has evidently done his work of renovation in so conscientious and thorough a manner, it is but one to him that I could bear witness of the fact. 

Archer was a renowned English organist and choral conductor living in the United States, with a reputation as an expert on pipe organs that extended as far as Montréal; he played three dedicatory concerts on the Casavant organ at la Basilique Notre-Dame in May of 1891.

If the Wadsworth instrument was indeed playing as early as 1889, this raises questions about how such a large pipe organ was built within a year by an organ builder who had only arrived in Montréal a few years earlier. For example, from where did Wadsworth obtain his pipework for the new St. James organ? One distinct possibility is that he purchased pipes from another builder such as S.R. Warren & Sons or from a supply house. Similarly, Wadsworth may have ordered pipes from the family workshops in Manchester, England, and had them shipped to Canada. Having said that, Wadsworth was accused of using old pipework in the new organ for St. James Church, including the Pedal 16′ Trombone and the Echo 8′ Hautbois. Our survey of the organ’s present pipework suggests that some ranks pre-date 1889: the f#19 pipe of the Great 16′ Double Diapason, for example, is clearly scribed “1881”, some seven years before the organ’s contract was signed.

Considering the spatial volume of the sanctuary at St. James’ Church and the organ’s recessed location within the chancel, the scaling of the Wadsworth pipework is surprisingly modest in comparison with the large organs of, say, William Hill. The original Great 8′ Open Diapason approaches the Normalmensur (NM) standard around 4′ C and again in the 1′ octave but never exceeds it. The Great 4′ Principal is consistently two to three pipes smaller than the 8′, and it is only in their uppermost octaves that the Great 22⁄3′ Twelfth (a tapered rank) and 2′ Fifteenth ranks exceed NM. These statements are slightly complicated by Warren’s re-scaling and re-pitching of the original pipework in their later reconstruction, but it remains that the scalings of Wadsworth’s principals and choruses were unexpectedly reticent. The quality of the Wadsworth pipes is unremarkable when compared with the later Warren and Casavant pipes, and while most of Wadsworth’s metal pipes were made from spotted metal, the metal itself is quite thin. The Swell 8′ Viola Ætheria is an extreme example: the spotted metal in the bass octaves is so thin that lifting the pipe carelessly from the top can easily deform the pipe’s body. The effect produced by these moderately scaled pipes sounding on generous wind pressures and having been voiced to fill a large room is one of surprising brilliance and great clarity.

Wadsworth’s wooden stops throughout the organ were unvarying, with stopped bass and tenor octaves that transition to open pipes with inverted mouths at c25, similar to a Melodia. The Solo 8′ Concert Flute and the Choir 8′ Lieblich Flute are traditional in the sense that the open pipe bodies are deeper than they are wide, but the proportions for the Great 8′ and 4′ flutes are notably wide and shallow. The present Choir 8′ Flute Celeste originally served as Wadsworth’s 8′ Echo Flute and also features this type of wide mouth construction. Like the metal pipes, the quality of construction is adequate but unexceptional; the thickness of the wood is consistently thinner than the later Warren pipes, and the quality of the joinery is slightly coarse and uneven.

Though E.D. Wadsworth & Bros. was still advertising in the Montréal area as late as 1902, it is unclear what happened to Edward Wadsworth after the completion of the St. James organ in 1891. Wadsworth did not achieve fame or fortune with the St. James’ organ: within days of Frederick Archer’s note pronouncing the organ complete in September 1891, Wadsworth sent the church trustees a handwritten note requesting an advance of $30 as he found himself “rather short.”

The Wadsworth organ served the church for eighteen years, a period that included Lynnwood Farnam’s tenure as organist. It was replaced in 1909 with a pipe organ by the Warren Church Organ Company, reusing a majority of the Wadsworth pipes, at a cost of $6,000. The Warren Church Organ Company was established in Woodstock, Ontario, in 1907 by Frank, Mansfield, and Russell Warren, and can be considered the last vestige of the once-proud Warren name in Canadian organbuilding.

The Warren organ added a number of new stops and redistributed most of the Wadsworth ranks throughout the instrument. A massively scaled 8′ Open Diapason was added to the Great, displacing Wadsworth’s original to secondary status. The Choir division was enhanced by a new 8′ Cor anglais with free reeds; this stop was likely purchased from a supplier, as its construction details are unlike anything else in the organ. A new Solo division was also provided on some 10′′ of wind and included new Stentorphone, Doppelflöte, German Gamba, and Tuba stops.

It appears Warren provided all-new wind chests rather than reusing the Wadsworth chests; this conclusion is based on Farnam’s description of the operation of the sub octave (G) and octave (A) couplers for the Great division and the general increase in the number of stops per division. The rearranging of the Choir to reside within the same expressive enclosure as the Swell, and likewise the Echo with the Solo, is further confirmation that the 1909 instrument represented substantial change behind the original Wadsworth façade.

The new Warren console of four manuals provided a new level of flexibility for organists, with each piston being adjustable by drawing the desired stop combination and then pulling the piston head out by a fraction of an inch. There were a total of four pistons operating on the entire organ and between three and five pistons operating on each division. The console also featured a pédale à bascule (a balanced pedal) providing a general crescendo and diminuendo effect.

Our examination of the pipework suggests that the pitch of the Wadsworth pipes was sharp of modern concert pitch (A=440Hz). To lower the pitch, Warren moved all of the Wadsworth stops up by one note and provided a new low C pipe for each stop; this served to increase the scale of each stop by one pipe in the process. The Warren company also filled out the gaps in Wadsworth’s numerous short-compass stops, such as the Great 16′ Contra Fagotto, Choir 8′ Clarionet, Echo 8′ Echo Flute, Choir 8′ Dulciana, and the Choir 8′ Voix Celeste.

Warren went beyond re-pitching the organ in some cases and rescaled several ranks, likely to achieve a fuller sound. It is equally possible that Wadsworth himself may have engaged in some re-scaling to suit his purposes, if one allows he recycled older pipework in his 1889 instrument. For instance, the Choir 4′ Flûte Octaviante and Great 4′ Principal ranks both have many pipes marked with three successive pitches, suggesting that the original scale was too small. In the same way, the Swell 8′ Open Diapason and 4′ Octave stops have been rescaled no less than three times by their fourth octave. As with adjusting the scales of various stops, there is no reason to think Warren would have hesitated to increase wind pressures and/or revoice the Wadsworth pipework as needed.

The Warren company was equally revisionist with the organ’s reed stops. The scales for Wadsworth’s original Great reed chorus were surprisingly thin—notably smaller than the Swell chorus—so Warren replaced the Great 8′ Trumpet with a new stop of larger scale. The original 8′ Trumpet was reworked into a 16′ Bassoon for the Swell division, with Warren providing twelve new half-length pipes for the bottom octave. Warren also added eighteen new full-length pipes to complete the missing bass of the Great 16′ Contra Fagotto. In fact, the only Wadsworth reed stops to emerge from the Warren workshops relatively untouched—beyond being shifted up one pipe as part of re-pitching the organ—were the Swell 8′ Cornopean, the Great and Swell 4′ Clarions and possibly the Swell 8′ Vox Humana (which disappeared in 1956). Most of Wadsworth’s color stops were replaced outright, though the 8′ Clarionet was rebuilt with new shallots, blocks, and boots, as well as equipped with new adjustable bells for tonal regulation. The 1889 organ had two oboe stops—the Solo 8′ Orchestral Oboe and the Echo 8′ Hautbois—though Farnam’s notes state that the Orchestral Oboe’s pipes had been “taken out” by the time of his visit. Neither stop survived; the pipes for both the present Swell 8′ Oboe and the Solo 8′ Orchestral Oboe are consistent in terms of construction and materials with Warren’s other work.

Farnam returned to St. James Methodist Church on February 15, 1910, to play the new Warren organ, and his notes again provide useful details about the changes that were wrought. Farnam did not seem entirely pleased with all of the changes made to the instrument, noting that the “32-foot has been quite ruined…” and all of the 2′ stops seemed very “spiky,” especially the 2′ Fifteenth in the Great. He praised the new electric key action, though went on to mention the Swell action was very noisy from inside the instrument.

After nearly thirty years of service from the Warren organ, St. James United Church—note the change in name—signed a contract with Casavant Frères in July 1938 for an organ that reused almost all of the old pipework on new windchests. As stipulated in the purchase agreement, the organ would be installed by December 18, 1938—some five months later—at a cost of $16,000. Wadsworth’s 16′ façade was to be preserved, though Casavant successfully lobbied to have the façade moved two feet towards the nave to accommodate the enlarged instrument. The short amount of time between the contract signing and the project’s anticipated completion may reflect the lingering effects of the Great Depression; it is likewise indicative that Casavant agreed to finance nearly half of the contract amount over a three-year period after the organ had been completed!

Casavant’s Opus 1608 incorporated their state-of-the-art electro-pneumatic windchests with pitman-type stop actions built into the pouchboards for instantaneous registration changes. The compasses of the manual divisions were increased from 61 notes to 68 notes, and the number of pedals increased from 30 to 32 notes. The organ’s wind system was comprehensively redesigned, reusing old wind reservoirs and their cone-valve regulators where practical. A new four-manual console was also provided, incorporating Casavant’s pneumatic combination action and trademark furnishings. Like Warren, Casavant consolidated the instrument’s specification from five manual divisions to four—eliminating the Echo division—and transferred several stops between divisions in the process. The Swell, Choir, and Solo divisions were furnished with independent expressive enclosures, each operated by Casavant’s 8-stage pneumatic motors.

A new Nazard 22⁄3′ made up of stopped pipes was added to the Choir, while a 4′ Violina—made up largely from repurposed pipework—was added to the Solo division. The Pedal division was augmented through new extensions to the existing stops, though the Wadsworth 16′–8′ Violone rank appears to have been entirely replaced in 1938 with new pipes. The original Pedal 16′ Trombone with its wooden shallots was extended downward by twelve full-length pipes to create the 32′ Bombarde stop, with the entire rank sounding on 7′′ wind pressure. The Carillon (or Chimes) tubes were maintained from the 1909 instrument but provided with a new striker rail, and a new 61-note Harp was added. Finally, whatever was left of Wadsworth’s “ruined” 32′ Open Diapason was eliminated, and a new 32′ Acoustic Bass stop was provided with twelve independent pipes sounding at the fifth to create the 32′ effect.

The Wadsworth-Warren instrument would have been a comfortable fit with the tonal inclinations of Stephen Stoot, Casavant’s technical director in 1938. An Englishman, many of Stoot’s instruments drew from this heritage, and in this sense the Wadsworth and Warren materials would not have seemed particularly foreign—though there may have been some disappointment with their quality. As one example, the placement of reed choruses on separate windchests was a trend in English organbuilding during the late Victorian and Edwardian eras, enabling higher wind pressures for the reed stops for a smoother tone. At St. James, the Great and Swell reed choruses were indeed separated in this manner, but the similar wind pressures between flues and reeds ultimately made this something of a hollow gesture.

After 1938, the organ saw a few changes prior to the restoration undertaken in 2011–12. The 8′ Vox Humana in the Swell division was replaced during the mid-1950s with a stopped 22⁄3′ Nazard rank. In the 1980s, the original Great mixtures were replaced with two new stops that were poorly suited to the instrument’s aesthetic. Likewise, the Great and Swell reed choruses were modified to give a brighter tone, with the resonators being cut to length after the original regulating slots had been soldered shut. One other significant change relates to the instrument’s appearance: church photos show a heavy drape hung above and to the sides of the Wadsworth façade, serving to hide the windchests and pipes from the Great and Pedal divisions. This drape was in place until possibly the early 1980s but it is unclear when exactly it disappeared; Philip Crozier, Director of Music at St. James, relates the drape had been removed by the time he was hired in 1986. The drape’s disappearance would have surely had some effect on the sound of the organ, tilting the organ’s tonal balance towards an even more present and brilliant sound—though to what degree can only be guessed.

The restoration work undertaken by Orgues Létourneau Limitée over a twelve-month period included re-leathering all of the electro-pneumatic windchest actions; restoring all of the wind reservoirs and other wind system components; and documenting in detail the instrument’s pipework. Forty ranks from the original Wadsworth instrument have survived, though many ranks have been subsequently rescaled or rearranged as described above.

As part of the restoration effort, two new mixtures were built for the Great division to replace the unsuitable examples added in the 1980s. In the absence of information regarding their original compositions, the new mixtures’ breaks follow English examples contemporary to the Wadsworth instrument, while the scalings follow progressions established by the Great 2′ Fifteenth and the original Swell mixture. The mild Swell mixture (containing a tierce rank) was restored to its original specification, with the two breaks returning to their original places at c25 and f#31. Finally, a new slotted 8′ Vox Humana in the style of Father Willis was developed and installed in the Swell division.

After nearly 75 years of service, the four-manual console was thoroughly rebuilt to discreetly incorporate modern playing conveniences, including multiple memory levels, additional thumb pistons, and a general piston sequencer. The organ’s switching system and wiring—much of it dating back to 1938—was entirely replaced with a new state-of-the-art system. Beyond the Wadsworth pipework from 1889, some of the instrument’s more intriguing tonal features include the full-length 32′ Bombarde, the Solo 8′ Stentorphone with its leathered upper lips, the free-reed 8′ Cor Anglais, and the 61-note Harp stop in the Choir division.

The organ was tonally regulated within the church by a team of Létourneau voicers over the course of several weeks in early 2012. Shortly thereafter, the church’s offices and meeting spaces were heavily damaged in a fire, though the sanctuary and the organ were spared. The restored organ was first heard in concert during the church’s annual noon-hour series throughout the following summer, and as autumn approached, the organ served as the “home” instrument for the annual Orgues et Couleurs festival, with two major solo concerts performed by Johann Vexo and Philip Crozier. Since Mr. Crozier’s appointment as Director of Music, the organ has been heard in a continuous series of summer recitals over the past 26 years, with the single exception being the summer of 2011, when the instrument was being restored in the Létourneau workshops.

An instrument in the English Town Hall tradition, the pipe organ at St. James United Church has played an important role in Montréal’s organ scene and has hosted concerts by renowned organists such as Lynnwood Farnam, Fernando Germani, Raymond Daveluy, André Marchal, Bernard Lagacé, E. Power Biggs, Francis Jackson, and Simon Preston. More recently, the instrument has been heard in performances by Joseph Nolan and Sietze de Vries. All of us at Létourneau Pipe Organs remain honored to have been entrusted with this significant restoration project and are pleased to see this pipe organ reclaiming its rightful place as one of Montréal’s most noteworthy instruments.

The author would like to thank the following individuals for their assistance in preparing this article: John Mander, Mark Venning, David Wood, Karl Raudsepp, Bill Vineer (The Vineer Organ Library), Allen Fuller, Philip Crozier, Fernand Létourneau, and Dany Nault.