Steuart Goodwin: Organbuilder

The Odyssey of an Organbuilder

R. E. Coleberd, an economist and retired petroleum industry executive, is a contributing editor of The Diapason.

Introduction

The careers of numerous American organbuilders in the late 19th and early 20th centuries are the story of a journey—from Europe to the United States or from shop to shop. From Germany came George Kilgen and Philipp Wirsching; from England John T. Austin, Octavius Marshall, and Henry Pilcher. In the U.S., Adolph Reuter’s sojourn took him from Barckhoff to Pilcher, Verney, Casavant (South Haven), and Wicks before he founded his own firm first in Trenton, Illinois, and then Lawrence, Kansas. A. G. Sparling moved from Lyon & Healy to Stevens to Holtkamp. These individuals and their firms are typical of the rich and colorful history of pipe organ building in America. Yet perhaps none of them comes close to the odyssey of Stanley Wyatt Williams 1881–1971 (see photo). Williams’ lifetime spans the arc of his era—from Robert Hope-Jones to G. Donald Harrison (Aeolian-Skinner) with stops at Electrolian, Wirsching, Murray Harris, Robert-Morton, Kimball, and E. M. Skinner. His talents as a voicer and tonal finisher played a pivotal role in the succession of nameplates in the U.S. West Coast pipe organ industry, and his stellar reputation led to important sales by recognized national builders.

Early Life

Stanley Wyatt Williams was born in London on October 29, 1881, the youngest of four sons and two daughters of George Edward Williams, who described himself as a “gentleman,” having made a comfortable living in the brewing industry. His family was musical; his mother sang a solo for Queen Victoria, and each of the sons was taught a musical instrument.1 As he recalled many years later: “I was always a little bit crazy about organs, not that I knew anything about them.”2 After attending the Mostyn House School in Cheshire and the Whitgift Grammar School at Croydon, Surrey, he enrolled in Dulwich College (southeast of London), founded in 1619.3 G. Donald Harrison graduated from there some years later. Suffering a health setback, Williams withdrew from school on the advice of a London physician.4 In the ensuing soul-searching, a well-known London organist, Charles Lawrence, took him to see an organbuilder and the instrument in the builder’s home. “That interested me more than ever,” he later commented, and he determined to become an organbuilder.5 His daughter, Mary Cowell, recalled that the family apparently was none too pleased with his choice of vocation, considering organbuilding a “trade” and thus beneath the dignity of their aristocratic image.6 Nonetheless his father paid the two or three hundred pounds required to enroll him as an apprentice to the legendary organbuilder, Robert Hope-Jones.7

An electrical engineer by profession who held an important position with the National Telephone Company in Liverpool, Hope-Jones was organist and choirmaster of St. John’s Church in Birkenhead, across the Mersey River from Liverpool. With local financial backing he organized the Hope-Jones Organ Company in Birkenhead, building instruments first in the factory of Norman & Beard in Norwich, and then in the Ingram, Hope-Jones shop in Hereford.8 Williams joined him in 1899 at age 18 (see photo, page 25). He couldn’t have found a better teacher or a more prophetic environment in which to acquire organbuilding skills and prepare for what would become a most interesting career. “As an apprentice . . . I was assigned to work at every phase of organ building. I voiced, I carpentered, I electrified—everything about organbuilding had to be learned. It was something I was later very grateful for.”9 “Not only a genius, but a great teacher,” said Williams of Hope-Jones: “He taught all of us to think for ourselves.”10

The controversial and enigmatic Hope-Jones would exert a profound and far-reaching influence on the King of Instruments through his revolutionary tonal and mechanical innovations. He pioneered what would emerge as the symphonic-orchestral voicing paradigm that swept the American industry in the 1920s. This type of instrument was marked by an ensemble of different tonal groups all at the same pitch, in contrast to the time-honored chorus of different pitches within the same tonal family. Mixtures and mutations were discarded and replaced with unison voices of comparatively wide or narrow scale pipes on higher wind pressures. The entire instrument was enclosed.11 Hope-Jones’s mechanical inventions included double-touch, a key characteristic of theatre organs, and high resistance electro-magnets requiring very little current.12

After completing shop routines, Williams joined the road crew and worked on the organ in the Hereford cathedral. There he met and fell in love with Isabel Robbins, whom he would marry in January 1908. When Hope-Jones immigrated to the United States in the spring of 1903, Stanley elected to remain with the former partner, Eustace Ingram, finishing instruments then under construction. A fellow worker asked whether he had ever considered moving to the States, and told him that an American firm, the Electrolian Company of Hoboken, New Jersey, was looking for a voicer. He interviewed, accepted an offer, and bidding farewell to his sweetheart in Hereford crossed the Atlantic in 1906.13 Williams was to be among several former Hope-Jones apprentices who came to America.14

The Land of Opportunity

Voicers are the cornerstone of any organbuilding enterprise. Stanley Williams was called to voice and finish instruments built by the Los Angeles Art Organ Company, now relocated to Hoboken and renamed the Electrolian Organ Company.15 He installed and finished the Electrolian-built 19-rank, two-manual and pedal instrument in the Wolcott School in Denver, Colorado (among whose pupils was Mamie Dowd, the future wife of President Dwight Eisenhower), and finished an instrument built for a Presbyterian church in Philadelphia. His reputation as a gifted voicer and finisher soon became well-known, for, as he later recounted, when he returned from Philadelphia to Hoboken, seven job offers awaited him.16 The Electrolian assets were next acquired by the legendary Philipp Wirsching of Salem, Ohio, whom Stanley met when he finished the instrument Wirsching built in 1907 for Our Lady of Grace Roman Catholic Church in Hoboken.17 Wirsching moved the business to Ohio, and Stanley joined him there.

Among the Electrolian assets Wirsching acquired was a contract for a two-manual and pedal organ with player attachment for the new palace of the Maharaja of Mysore, India. In January 1908, Williams returned to England, married his sweetheart Isabel, and in July the couple set sail for India to install the organ, traveling through the Mediterranean and the Suez Canal.18 This was to be the “Great Adventure,” surely one of the most fantastic episodes (see photo, page 25) in the history of organbuilding the world over, and long a familiar topic of conversation in the rich folklore of the industry (see James Stark and Charles Wirsching Jr., The Great Adventure, forthcoming). Stanley and Isabel returned to England in January 1910, and in March sailed for America where Stanley resumed work with Wirsching.

While finishing an instrument in Terre Haute, Indiana, Williams received a telegram from the Murray M. Harris Organ Company in Los Angeles asking him to come to the West Coast to finish voicing the instrument they were building for St. Paul’s Episcopal Church in Los Angeles19 (see stoplist). Charles McQuigg, the Harris head voicer, had left the company, no doubt mindful of its precarious financial condition.20 Williams responded, completed the assignment, and returned to Ohio. Then the Harris people, having recognized his skills and eager to maintain their reputation for fine instruments, offered him the head voicer position in the newly reorganized firm. Williams accepted and moved to Los Angeles in 1911 where he would remain for the balance of his career. As David Lennox Smith, Harris scholar, observed: “the most notable addition to the staff of the Murray M. Harris Company in its final years was Stanley Wyatt Williams.”21

Los Angeles Organbuilders

At the turn of the century the market for the King of Instruments on the West Coast was vibrant and growing rapidly, built upon the tidal wave of immigration and the rapid pace of church construction in the emerging metropolitan landscapes. Moreover, the spirit of enterprise was everywhere, marked by numerous “self-made” men eager to apply their talents and fortunes to railroad building, telegraph, mercantile trade, real estate development—and organbuilding. Local businessmen and their funding initially played a pivotal role in the succession of organbuilder nameplates in Los Angeles, as they did in establishing the industry elsewhere, for example, in Erie, Pennsylvania.22 But these “outsiders” invested with virtually no inkling of the inherently high-risk business of building pipe organs. Cost estimating, pricing, competition, and, especially, critical problems of cash flow vexed most builders and overwhelmed others.23 As Stanley explained: “You had to watch your pennies very closely to have a couple left when you finished an organ.”24 For a while the euphoric atmosphere of large buildings, talented employees, and fine, heavily publicized instruments masked these fundamental concerns. But before long financial realities took over.

Murray M. Harris

Organbuilding in Los Angeles began in 1895 when Fletcher & Harris built a two-manual instrument for the Church of the Ascension, Episcopal, in Sierra Madre.25 Murray M. Harris (1866–1922), a skilled voicer who had apprenticed with Hutchings in Boston, continued on his own. In 1900 he recruited a cadre of skilled artisans led by William Boone Fleming (1849–1940) who became superintendent. Harris acquired a spacious factory building and prospered by building instruments for the local market.26 In July 1900, the firm was incorporated as the Murray M. Harris Organ Company and capitalized at $100,000.27 In 1903 Harris contracted to build a 140-stop Audsley-designed instrument for the St. Louis Exposition. It was to be voiced, at Audsley’s request, by John W. Whitely, a well-known English voicer, described as “one of the pioneer spirits in the Birkenhead shops of Mr. Hope-Jones.”28 The St. Louis organ was something of a watershed in American organbuilding history. As David Lennox Smith commented: “The influence of the St. Louis organ could soon be seen in the String Organ divisions, multiple enclosures, and other new features that were included with growing frequency in specifications for large new organs.”29

Soon financial problems began that would continue to plague Harris. Working capital proved inadequate to finish the mammoth St. Louis instrument. In August 1903, the Los Angeles Times reported that shareholders, including Harris, his wife Helen, and others, were delinquent in court-ordered assessments of $10 per share on their stock. The problem resulted when only 352 shares, par value $100 per share, were actually subscribed, and thus of the authorized capitalization of $100,000, only $35,200 was paid-in and perhaps even less. The court stipulated that the additional stock be auctioned off at the company offices to acquire the funds necessary to keep operating.30

Enter Eben Smith, an archetypical entrepreneur who was described in the press as a “mining man” and “Colorado banker.” He had made a fortune in Colorado silver mines and was president of the Pacific Wireless Telephone Company.31 Smith purchased 500 shares of Harris stock, thereby acquiring a controlling interest in the business. He renamed it the Los Angeles Art Organ Company.32 In 1905 a patent infringement lawsuit threatened the company with liquidation, whereupon key employees, led by Fleming, moved east for a brief sojourn in Hoboken, New Jersey, under the name of Electrolian Organ Company.33 By September 1907, the employees, minus Fleming (who moved to Philadelphia where he was subsequently employed to superintend the installation of the St. Louis Exposition organ in the Wanamaker store), were back in Los Angeles, having joined the reorganized Murray M. Harris Organ Company.34 The head voicer was now Charles W. McQuigg, a protegé of John W. Whitely, who had remained in Los Angeles and served briefly as the Pacific Coast representative of the Barckhoff Church Organ Company of Pomeroy, Ohio.35

St. Paul’s Episcopal Church and First Church of Christ, Scientist

The 1911 instrument Stanley Williams was called to voice and finish reflected the manifold changes in stoplist design and voicing taking place in the industry. With Harris’s training at Hutchings and acquaintance with other work in the east, it was not surprising that his early stoplists closely paralleled the work of these builders.36 The 1901 Murray Harris at Stanford University is a good example. As described by Manuel Rosales, who restored this instrument in 1986, the Stanford Harris was a typical 19th-century instrument featuring a well-developed principal chorus on the Great, a secondary chorus on the Swell, and a small Choir organ with not a full chorus but other colors. The voicing, on three to four inches wind pressure, was gentle and clear. Flutes were not exaggerated, i.e., no tibia tone, strings were precise and clear, and pedal stops were well balanced with the manuals. In contrast, the St. Paul’s specification (see stoplist, page 24) was confined to an ensemble of unison and octave voices at 16¢, 8¢, and 4¢ pitches, with emphasis on the 8¢ voice, representing the trend of the day. Diapason scales were much larger, and string scales much smaller than in earlier instruments.37 This characteristic most likely reflected the influence of John Whitely, the voicer who was closely associated with Audsley and who joined Harris in 1903, as well as Charles McQuigg, said to have “absorbed much of Whitely’s technic and ideal.”38

The first organ where Stanley’s design influence is found is the 1912 instrument for the First Church of Christ, Scientist, Los Angeles (see stoplist). Having also felt the impress of Whitely in England, he substituted a Tibia Clausa, a Hope-Jones stop, for the customary Gross Flute on the Great.39 But as Rosales points out, the absence of a tremolo on this division indicates this voice was viewed as filling out the ensemble, in contrast to a solo voice as found in a theatre organ. This organ contained a Dolce Cornet on the Swell and a 22?3' and 2' on the Great in what might be termed a vestigial chorus, but in no way could it be considered a well-developed Great chorus, which by this time had largely disappeared from American stoplists. What emerges is an accompanimental instrument in which the high-pressure Tuba, dominating the ensemble or playing solo against it, is symbolic of the trend.40

Tonal Philosophy, 1913

Williams’ expertise in voicing and finishing was soon recognized. In February 1913, he was the featured speaker at a meeting of the Los Angeles Chapter of the American Guild of Organists.41 His comments reflected his knowledge of English organbuilding, his background with Hope-Jones, and focused on the character and content of foundation tone. True diapason tone must predominate, he asserted. Subject to broad limits, it is bounded by string tone at one end of the spectrum and flute tone at the other. Old diapasons were “mellow and sweet,” a cantabile sound suited to today’s Choir organ. He faulted “Old Masters” for failing to preserve the character and power of voicing throughout the entire compass, which he attributed to imperfect scaling. The prevalence of upperwork and the introduction of “harsh” reeds, in the middle of the 19th century, overbalanced diapason tone, Williams said, leading cynics to refer to the “sausage frying” sound of a full Swell. To remedy this result, diapasons were increased in scale and number. Hard, stringy and nasal, they were brilliant in a way that favored upper partials, sacrificing fundamental tone and thereby blending well with mutations and reeds. Then the pendulum swung back to the other extreme and high-cut mouths produced a flabby tone devoid of the necessary partials and bordering on the fluty.'
He outlined the foundations of a three-manual organ, reflecting the Hope-Jones influence and the tastes of the time. On the Great manual the first diapason should be large scale and with a leathered lip; the second diapason, of medium scale, not leathered, but not in any way stringy. The third should be a “mild and sweet” voice, and quite soft, much like the work of Father Bernard Smith. On the Swell, a Hope-Jones phonon-type should be the first diapason, large scale and leather-lipped, necessary to balance the Swell reeds. The second should be a violin or horn diapason. For the choir organ, a mild geigen or gemshorn was the preferred voice. He cautioned that every stop in a well-voiced organ must have its “individuality,” and lamented builder fads, which he found detrimental to the advancement of the instrument. He challenged organists and organbuilders to work together to uphold the dignity of the instrument and its music to insure its high place in the church service. Williams’ comments offer an interesting contrast to today’s perspective and were superseded in his own thinking as reflected in his work with Kimball and Skinner.

Murray M. Harris, continued

In 1912, a year after Williams joined the Harris firm, financial problems reappeared. Murray Harris sold his interest to a retired mining man from Mexico named Heuer, who soon became disillusioned with the meager (if any) profits in organbuilding, and sold out.42 In August 1913, control of the company passed to E. S. Johnston, former manager of the Eilers Music Company in Los Angeles, who in November that year advertised the Johnston Organ and Piano Manufacturing Company as successor to the Murray M. Harris Co.43 Johnston and real estate developer Suburban Homes then agreed to build a 75,000 square foot factory in Van Nuys, which opened in November 1913. Soon, however, working capital was again exhausted. Johnston and his partner Bell journeyed east in search of funds but apparently returned empty-handed.44 Then Suburban Homes of Van Nuys, having turned down Johnston’s plea for financial backing, were the new owners by default. They renamed the business California Organ Company and promptly palmed it off to the Title Insurance and Trust Company of Los Angeles, holders of the mortgage on the factory building.45

Robert-Morton Organ Company

At this time a sea change was taking place in the whole concept of pipe organs and in the industry that built them. The theatre market, with its radically different instrument, was growing rapidly, having displaced the higher-cost pit orchestra. Equipped with tibias, kinuras and other voices as well as traps and toy counters, these instruments were ideally suited for accompanying silent movies. The Rudolph Wurlitzer Company, whose name would soon become the generic term for the theatre pipe organ, was already enjoying a nationwide business. Within less than ten years, organbuilding in America would be virtually divided into two separate industries, with Wurlitzer, Robert-Morton, Barton, Link, Marr & Colton, Page, and Geneva identified almost exclusively with the theatre paradigm. Other builders, although they built theatre organs, were primarily identified with the church instrument and market.
The California Organ Company was at a crossroads. Would they continue in the church organ industry, now well established nationwide and well represented on the West Coast? Or would they recognize and capitalize on the growing theatre organ market? The resources were in place in Van Nuys: a well-appointed modern factory, skilled artisans, and a talented, experienced senior management, which together had guaranteed the succession of nameplates. As the late Tom B’hend, whose research chronicles much of the history of this era, observed: “The Wurlitzer Hope-Jones instruments were gaining popularity; the unit principle was being accepted without reserve by up and coming theatre organists . . . If the California Organ Company were to enter the theatre field, it would be necessary to produce a unit instrument of comparable quality.”46 With his rich background as an apprentice of Hope-Jones, who could be better qualified to design and build such an instrument than Stanley Williams? As Williams later reflected: “I was the one man on the West Coast who could put this sort of instrument into production.”47

Enter the American Photo Player Company of Berkeley, California. In 1912 this firm produced a small tubular-pneumatic pit instrument combining a few ranks of flue pipes and perhaps a reed stop with a piano. Booming sales and nationwide distribution alerted them to the tremendous potential for a unit theatre organ.48 Negotiations beginning in the spring of 1916 led to the merger of the California Organ and American Photo Player companies and on May 2, 1917, the Robert-Morton Organ Company was duly incorporated.49 As the late David Junchen, noted theatre organ biographer, commented: “Werner (Harry J. Werner, Photo Player promoter) had found just the ticket for expanding his theatre sales, and the owners of the California Organ Co. had found a buyer for the albatross they didn’t want anyway.”50 Stanley Williams was named plant superintendent and the following year vice president. Opus 1, a two-manual organ designed by Williams, was built for the California Theatre in Santa Barbara.51 As B’hend noted: “The men and women who built pipe organs in Southern California never left their work benches to take up fabrication of the Robert-Morton pipe organ.”52

The new company increasingly focused on the theatre instrument, but initially it continued to service a spectrum of the local market, including churches. In 1917 Morton built a $10,000 instrument for the A. Hamburger and Sons Department Store in Los Angeles. The Los Angeles Times noted that it was the first organ of its kind on the Pacific Coast, and was acquired “for the purpose of giving the people a musical education and making shopping more pleasant.”53 In 1920 Williams sold and most likely designed a 72-rank, six-division, four-manual organ for Bovard Auditorium at the University of Southern California in Los Angeles.54 Edward Hopkins lauded Williams’ “English training, practical experience at the voicing machine, and open-minded progressiveness,” saying the Bovard organ “stands pre-eminent.”55 This instrument featured Morton’s horseshoe console (Morton didn’t build drawknob consoles) and concrete swell boxes enclosing the entire instrument.

W. W. Kimball Company

Williams, a realist in business matters, recognized that Morton made the right choice in electing to build theatre pipe organs. Yet his heart was with the classic church organ, and the Bovard instrument no doubt reinforced his convictions. As his daughter reflected: “He didn’t like traps and toy counters.”56 He resigned from Morton in early 1922, and was feted by employees at a Saturday afternoon gathering at the shop in recognition of his eleven years service to Morton and its predecessors.57 Momentarily, he elected to go out on his own. He and his wife Isabel, together with Carl B. Sartwell, his colleague at Morton, formed Stanley W. Williams, Incorporated and built perhaps one or two instruments, his daughter believes; the details are unknown.58 But the odds were against them. By this time what local capital had been available was already committed to the theatre organ business, and nationally known church organ builders were well represented on the West Coast. Stanley soon wisely recognized that with his interests, his next opportunity lay with an established (i.e., well-capitalized) church organ builder.

Williams then began a five-year sojourn with the W. W. Kimball Company of Chicago as their West Coast representative.59 His decision was no doubt influenced by his former colleague in Van Nuys, Robert P. Elliot, with whom he shared many details in a common philosophy of organbuilding. The much-traveled Elliot, who joined California Organ as vice president and general manager in October 1916, left in May 1918 to become head of the organ department at Kimball in Chicago.60 A dynamic and aggressive firm, Kimball was ever alert to market opportunities, and recognized that their name, well-established in pianos and reed organs, carried over into the market for pipe organs. A large newspaper advertisement by the Eilers Music House in Los Angeles, in April 1912, promoting the Kimball Player Piano, mentioned Kimball as “America’s Greatest Pipe Organ Builders.”61

During this period the Kimball company was making far-reaching changes in the mechanical and tonal character of their instrument, attributed primarily to the influence of Elliot and George Michel, the latter widely acclaimed for his superb reed and string voicing. As Junchen noted: “If George Michel was the voice of the Kimball organ, R. P. Elliot was its soul.”62 Improvements in Kimball engineering and action design, coupled with elegant workmanship, were marked by abandonment of two-pressure bellows and two-pressure ventil windchests with hinged pouches in favor of a pitman-action windchest with springs under the pouches. Tonally, Kimball moved away from the liturgical motif in church organ design toward a pronounced symphonic and orchestral paradigm, a new direction for American organbuilders.63

In Los Angeles

Stanley Williams opened his Kimball office in the downtown emporium of the Sherman-Clay Music Company. “For half a century, Sherman, Clay & Co. has been the philosopher and friend of good music on the Pacific Coast,” they advertised.64 When churches went looking for a pipe organ, they logically began with a music retailer. The connection between music retailers and organ sales was a salient but long-overlooked feature of marketing the instrument during this time. As early as 1902, Harris was represented by Kohler & Chase in San Francisco and then independently by Robert Fletcher Tilton, a well-known musician with an office in the Kohler & Chase building.65 In Los Angeles, the Aeolian Company was represented by the George J. Birkel Music Company, and Welte-Mignon by the Barker Brothers department store. Showrooms soon appeared. By 1926 Wurlitzer, Robert-Morton, and Link all maintained showrooms in Los Angeles.66

Williams’ work with Kimball began immediately, as did the maintenance business he established. He installed, finished, and perhaps sold the 23-rank, three-manual Kimball organ in the world-famous Angelus Temple in Los Angeles, an early megachurch seating 5,300 (see stoplist, page 27). This church, dedicated on New Year’s Day 1923, was built by the flamboyant evangelist Aimee Semple McPherson, founder of the International Church of the Four Square Gospel.67 It is a colorful instrument now undergoing restoration in what was once a wonderful acoustic, ideally suited to the worship style and tastes of the founder and the congregation. In what must have been the pinnacle of unification and duplexing, 23 ranks of pipes were spread over 61 speaking stops. Each rank was playable at three or more pitches and duplexed to two or more manuals. Synthetic stops included a saxophone and orchestral oboe. Couplers greatly increased the power and versatility of the instrument. The Orchestral division is in the same chamber as the Great, sharing voices and thereby giving the illusion of a larger organ as does the number of stop tabs on the console.68

Other Kimball sales by Williams in Los Angeles churches included organs in Hollywood Presbyterian, St. James Episcopal, Precious Blood Roman Catholic, and Rosewood Methodist churches.69 He also supervised the re-installation of the 1911 Murray Harris instrument in St. Paul’s Episcopal Cathedral in the new edifice in 1924, replacing the original console with one built by Kimball.70 The largest Kimball organ he sold, in 1926, was a 56-rank, 65-stop, four-manual for the First Baptist Church of Los Angeles (see stoplist).71 The West Coast correspondent of The Diapason, Roland Diggle, described it as having “lovely solo voices and a stunning ensemble.”72

Skinner and Aeolian-Skinner

In 1927 Stanley Williams made his last move, the capstone of his illustrious career, joining Ernest M. Skinner of Boston as Pacific Coast representative.73 He welcomed the opportunity to affiliate with America’s foremost builder of this era, and Skinner in turn was pleased that a man of such knowledge and reputation would now add luster to his prestigious firm. This association was celebrated with a dinner for the local organ fraternity at a fashionable downtown restaurant.74 In July 1928, Williams installed a two-manual, ten-rank, duplexed and unified Skinner instrument, Opus 690, in his home. An enclosed instrument representative of small residence organs built by the Boston patriarch, it comprised a diapason, unit flute, flute and celeste, string and celeste, and four reeds: vox humana, clarinet, French horn, and an English horn—the latter two Skinner favorites.75 Sales of two-, three-, and four-manual instruments began immediately: a four-manual for Immanuel Presbyterian Church, Los Angeles, in 1927, Opus 676, and in 1930 a 78-rank, four-manual organ for the University of California, Los Angeles (UCLA), Opus 818, designed by Harold Gleason in consultation with Lynwood Farnam and G. Donald Harrison (see photo above).76 The same year another four-manual organ was built for Temple Methodist Church in San Francisco, Opus 819.77 Sales in 1931 included a four-manual organ for First Congregational Church, Los Angeles, Opus 856, and the following year a four-manual for the residence of prominent Pasadena pediatrician Dr. Raymond B. Mixsell, Opus 893. Organizer of the Bach Festival in Pasadena, Dr. Mixsell engaged Marcel Dupré to play the inaugural recital on his instrument.78 Williams’ extensive service business, established when he began working for Kimball in 1922, carried him through World War II, when organ companies could no longer build new instruments. After the war, heavy sales resumed.

Tonal Philosophy, 1959

In 1959 Stanley was asked to appraise and recommend updates for the 1926 Kimball organ at the First Baptist Church in Los Angeles, an instrument he had sold and installed.79 The document he prepared sheds light on the evolution of Williams’ tonal philosophy and offers key insights into the prevailing orthodoxy of the 1920s, especially the practices of the Kimball Company, a long-neglected major builder. He asserted that during the 1920s, the entire organbuilding industry in the United States was “to some degree” influenced by the theatre pipe organ. Williams lamented this trend, which saw higher wind pressures and voicing of flutes, diapasons, strings, and reeds that tended to isolate and magnify their differences. He acknowledged the positive contribution of the theatre epoch in “better engineering practice and the speed and reliability of action.”

Williams called for major tonal revisions to make the instrument more suitable for worship services, choir accompaniment, and interpretation of the instrument’s great literature. These revisions included replacing all flue pipes in the Great division except the Gemshorn and the Melodia, substituting a Quintadena for the 16¢ Double Open Diapason, and eliminating the Tromba (see stoplists, pages 27 and above). On the Swell manual the many new ranks recommended included a “small scale bright tone trumpet” in place of the Cornopean, and on the Choir new mutations and a Krummhorn. He recommended revoicing the Gamba and Celeste on the Solo division for a “broader and softer” sound. In 1965 this instrument was enla

The Mission Inn, Riverside, California, October 25, 2003

R.E. Coleberd is a contributing editor of The Diapason.

When you come to the end of a Perfect Day,

And you sit alone with your thought,

While the chimes ring out with a carol gay,

For the joy that the day has brought,

Do you think what the end of a Perfect Day

Can mean to a tired heart,

When the sun goes down with a flaming ray,

And the dear friends have to part?

Introduction

On Saturday evening, October 25, 2003, a gala banquet and recital for 250 guests in the Music Room of the Mission Inn in Riverside, California celebrated the rededication of the newly restored 1911 Kimball pipe organ. This majestic instrument, played daily by the staff organist and assistants in the early decades of the last century, was a defining characteristic of this world-famous resort hotel and a fond memory of the many guests who stayed there. Music at The Inn transcended the locality and reached the hearts of people everywhere when, in 1909, the noted song writer Carrie Jacobs-Bond (1862-1946) was inspired to write her most famous ballad "A Perfect Day" while visiting The Inn.1 This became the theme song of the programs and, appropriately, was the closing number of the recital which followed the banquet.

A milestone in the rich and colorful history of the pipe organ in America, the Kimball organ at the Mission Inn stands today as one of the few remaining hotel pipe organs in this country.2 As recitalist Dr. John Longhurst commented in his opening remarks: "its retention, renovation and recognition are a tribute to reverence for the past and a vision for the future." The project reflects the combined efforts of The Friends of the Mission Inn, a nonprofit support group, the generous bequest of the estate of Riverside historian Mrs. Esther Klotz, the enthusiastic support of hotel management and the untiring efforts of a local organbuilder who spent countless hours over two years bringing the instrument back to life.

The Mission Inn

The Mission Inn was built in 1903 as the Glenwood Mission Inn by Frank Augustus Miller (1857-1935) to the design of architect Arthur Burnett Benton, who championed the Mission Revival architectural style as an expression of California's Spanish Colonial heritage.3 Miller was responding to the growing demand by wealthy easterners for a warm winter climate and the luxurious features of a resort hotel. Here was an opportunity, with a signature facility, to compete with Pasadena and Redlands for this lucrative patronage. In 1910 the Cloister wing was added, one of several additions, and appointed with costly furnishings and objets d'art collected by Miller in his world travels. A focal point of the Cloister Room, located in the far right corner, is the three-manual Kimball pipe organ (see photo).

Over the ensuing decades, the Mission Inn, now listed on the National Register of Historic Places and California Historic Landmarks, played host to a star-spangled list of dignitaries. Presidents Harrison, McKinley, Theodore Roosevelt and Taft were guests. At the age of twenty-five John F. Kennedy attended a peace conference at The Inn. Richard and Pat Nixon were married in the Presidential Lounge, and Ronald and Nancy Reagan honeymooned there. Gerald Ford visited, as did George W. Bush in mid-October, 2003. Painted portraits of the presidents line the wall of the lobby adjacent to the lounge.4

The Kimball Organ

The Kimball pipe organ, with a commanding presence in the opulent Cloister Room, was dedicated on February 27, 1911 by John Jasper McClellan, a noted keyboard artist from The Mormon Tabernacle in Salt Lake City (see program).5 The occasion was a conference called by hotel owner Miller, described as a "humanist, prohibitionist, and as a tireless worker for international peace,"6 to discuss peace proposals espoused by Andrew Carnegie, the well-known steel magnate and philanthropist. McClellan's program, chosen in consultation with Miller, was an example of a repertoire deemed appropriate for a hotel pipe organ. The Music Room, as the Cloister Room came to be known, became a frequent meeting place for local organizations and hotel guests--bankers and school principals among many others--and a popular wedding venue.

In 1917 the Mission Inn employed Newell Parker as staff organist. He was a pupil of the prominent Los Angeles organist-composer Ernest Douglas.7 Appearing at the console in a blue cape and serving until his retirement in 1968, Parker played noon concerts daily and the ever-popular Sunday evening hymn sings. In 1931 Parker reported that he had played six hundred weddings in the past eight years.8 The American Organist published a list of compositions he found suitable for a hotel program (see box).9 Among notable organists who played the instrument was Alec Wyton, onetime president of the American Guild of Organists.10

The 1911 Kimball organ was a three-manual instrument of 32 ranks (see stoplist, p. 18) that the local press termed a "Cathedral" instrument "because it has the large variety of tone color, in number of speaking stops, and the dignity of tone expected in a cathedral organ."11 This no doubt pleased the image-conscious Miller who must have seen it as a competitive advantage in the market for the resort trade. The third manual was described as an Echo Organ located 150 feet from the main instrument while in fact it was a Choir division in the chamber.12

An analysis of the mechanical features and tonal palette of the Kimball affords key insights into the character and complexion of the American pipe organ at this time and in contrast to succeeding eras. Steuart Goodwin, a nationally-known expert in voicing and tonal finishing, who did the tonal work on the restoration in the chamber assisted by Wendell Ballantyne at the console, commented in the local press that the original instrument "isn't much different, really, from organs that were in churches in 1910."13 In this respect it is unique--and significant--in the history of Kimball, a major builder in the first half of the last century, in that it contrasts sharply with the orchestral paradigm of Kimball organs in the 1920s, the image customarily associated with this company's instruments. There was, of course, no distinctly hotel instrument, in contrast to the radically different theater organ emerging during this era.

Goodwin observes that some of the characteristics of early twentieth-century church organs shared by the Mission Inn instrument include large-scaled, robust, eight-foot Diapasons and at least one open wood flute (generally called "Melodia"); also, stops with names like Salicional and Cornopean.

The Kimball has three open flutes: Clarabella, Concert Flute and Gross Flute, all similar in scale. The Concert Flute has harmonic trebles. The Kimball strings are high in tin content, low in mouth cut-up and well voiced, in keeping with the builder's reputation for fine strings. They are delicate and bright in contrast to the larger more foundational strings favored later by G. Donald Harrison. The Trumpet and Cornopean are surprisingly bright, very Willis sounding, while the Clarinet is a bit soft. The Vox Humana was the familiar "Vox in a Box," located behind the Swell division in its own enclosure with manually set Swell shades and a separate, comparatively rapid tremolo. Some of the Diapason pipework was slotted, to alter the harmonic content into the more horn-like sound favored by most builders after about 1875.14

The Kilgen Rebuild

By 1930 the original tubular pneumatic key and stop action in the windchests and the lead tubing linkage to the console were obsolete and failing. The Inn then contracted with George Kilgen and Sons to rebuild and update the instrument mechanically and tonally.15 This work, supervised by the West Coast representative of the St. Louis firm, comprised a new console, installing electro-pneumatic primary action in the wind-chests, and adding stops and pipes. A major trend of the times was the use of the 4' coupler on manual divisions to brighten the ensemble in the absence of mixtures and mutations. This required adding chests and pipes to increase the manual compass on the Swell and Choir from 61 to 73 notes. The Pedal was expanded from 30 to 32 pipes. A unit flute, a 16' Lieblich Gedeckt, was added to the Swell, and a large Diapason added to the Choir. The Clarinet on the Great manual was moved to the Choir and replaced with a new French Horn (see stoplist, p. 18). Unfortunately, this new work was poorly placed. For example, the unit flute was located sideways in an alcove outside the Swell enclosure with the sound having to pass through the enclosure and the shutters. It was never satisfactory. Elsewhere, the new material was jammed in so closely and access so difficult that maintenance and tuning were nearly impossible.16

This instrument was introduced at a luncheon on January 19, 1931 before a blue-chip audience of two hundred forty-five musical personalities and southern California newspaper editors personally invited by Frank Miller. House organist Parker began the program with compositions by well-known Los Angeles and Long Beach organists who were present: Prelude and Allegro Quasi Fantasia by Ernest Douglas and A Vesper Prayer by Roland Diggle. The featured performer was the legendary Alexander Schreiner, then organist at both The Mormon Tabernacle and UCLA. After Bach's Toccata and Fugue in D Minor and Ernst Harberbier's Enchanted Bells he played The Flight of the Bumble Bee prompting "an irrepressible burst of laughter and complimentary applause which called for a repetition of the number."17

The Restoration

By the late 1960s the future of the Mission Inn was in grave doubt. Then, in a groundswell of civic pride, The Friends of the Mission Inn, a non-profit support group, was founded in 1969, dedicated to preserving this time-honored monument to their community. It was saved by the combined efforts of The Friends and the far-sighted new owner, Duane Roberts, who committed the funds necessary to secure its future. In 2001 a generous bequest from the estate of Esther Klotz made possible the estimated $140,000 budget for restoring the organ. Roberts enthusiastically endorsed the project. The Friends first approached Ron Kraft, a Lutheran minister and organist, who had serviced organs in the neighborhood for nearly thirty years. But nearing retirement, he declined to assume the task, recommending instead his friend, organbuilder Ed Ballantyne.

Ballantyne (see photo, p. 17), who is also active in his family's marble and tile business, began his labor of love and then professional career in organbuilding in 1985 with the rebuilding and installation of an organ in his Mormon Church in Riverside followed by a similar project at the Ramona High School. Soon the Kimball challenge became a family affair with Ed enlisting the help of his younger brother Wendell and his son Ryan. Added to the team were Steuart Goodwin (q.v.) and Kraft. Of these men only Goodwin had been inside the Mission Inn organ and then many years earlier. When the team first entered the chamber, they encountered rain damage and a heavy layer of soot from the days when smudge pots were used to protect nearby citrus groves from cold weather. Ballantyne recalls: "We'd come out of there looking like coal miners."18

The goal of the two-year project was to return the instrument to its 1911 Kimball profile and update the specification within that paradigm as space and funds permitted (see stoplist). The Kimball windchest action was replaced with Peterson valves and the console rewired with Matters solid-state switching. The twelve-note extension chests on the Swell and Choir were discarded. Experience has shown that extension chests, connected with the main chest by tubing, result in unsteady wind and tuning problems. The Clarinet was returned to the Great division and the French Horn not reused. The Kilgen unit flute, never satisfactory, was eliminated as were the harp and chimes whose actions were defunct. The new individual valves on the windchests afforded unification options enabling Wendell Ballantyne, who figured importantly in the tonal work, to program the Second Diapason, Twelfth, and Mixture on the Great. The unit flutes in the Swell are now composed of pipes from the 16' Bourdon and the 4' Traverse Flute, both well-positioned for tonal egress. The new harp and chimes were sampled from MIDI. A major improvement was adding an independent 4' Octave and 2' Fifteenth to the Great, both unenclosed, adjacent to the 8' Open Diapason behind the façade, resulting in a more cohesive and vibrant ensemble.19

The Rededication

In keeping with the rich traditions of the Mission Inn, it was deemed appropriate that the recital on October 25 be performed by an organist from The Mormon Tabernacle, just as in 1911 and 1931. Drs. Clay Christiansen and John Longhurst, who currently share the position, welcomed the invitation. The music they chose (see program, p. 19) was designed to match the selections played on a pipe organ in 1911 with the restored instrument evoking the nostalgia of a bygone era. Longhurst commented that when they first heard the Kimball, they heard an instrument vastly different from what they were accustomed to: the Aeolian-Skinner in The Tabernacle and the Schoenstein in the Conference Center in Salt Lake City. "I wondered how we'd ever play Bach's Toccata, but decided that if they played it in 1911 we could too."20

Christiansen explained that in 1911 organ recitals featured transcriptions of orchestral pieces, often those linked to Edwin Lemare, "The Great Lemare," whose reputation was built on this music. This was a period when organ music reached the corners of American society that did not have recourse to symphony orchestras. The pipe organ, therefore, enjoyed a very prominent place in the musical landscape of our country. "We chose transcriptions of Waltz of the Flowers and Jesse Crawford's arrangement of Rhapsody in Blue as symbolic of this era. The many delicate stops on this organ--the Clarinet on the Great, for example--suggest a quieter, slower, more refined lifestyle in contrast to the rock concert, loudspeaker sound (and noise) of urban living today."21 By using four hands, he added, --as opposed to two hands--they could have three manual colors speaking at once in addition to the pedal, as well as frequent registration changes.

The program closed with "A Perfect Day." Indeed it was!

Well, this is the end of a Perfect Day,

Near the end of a Journey, too;

But it leaves a thought that is big and strong,

With a wish that is kind and true.

For the mem'ry had painted this Perfect Day

With colors that never fade,

And we find, at the end of a Perfect Day,

The soul of a friend we've made.

For research assistance and critical comments on earlier drafts of this paper the uthor gratefully acknowledges: Ed Ballantyne, Wendell Ballantyne, Clay Christiansen, Marene Foulger, Steuart Goodwin, Frances Larkin, Laurence Leonard, Jim Lewis, John Longhurst, Manuel Rosales, Rene Sturman and R. E. Wagner.

R. E. Coleberd is a contributing editor of The Diapason.

Introduction
This article is the second in a series exploring the role of the King of Instruments in American culture. The first article, “The Mortuary Pipe Organ: A Neglected Chapter in the History of Organbuilding in America,” was published in the July 2004 issue of The Diapason.1 (Others to follow will discuss organs in hospitals, hotels, soldiers’ homes and war memorials.) The era of the Masonic Lodge pipe organ, embracing close to 700 instruments, began in the 1860s, reached its zenith in the first three decades of the twentieth century, and with certain exceptions ended shortly after World War II.2 In the religious, ritualistic format of the Masonic movement, the pipe organ made a statement. It was deemed essential to crown the ambiance of the journey through the several chapters of the order (Blue Lodge, Royal Arch, Scottish Rite, Shrine and other “Rites”), and it complemented the majestic buildings, often architectural masterpieces, which contributed significantly to an attractive urban landscape. A closer look at the market, the instrument, and the builders reveals key features of this fascinating epoch, which surely belongs in the rich and colorful history of pipe organ building in America.

The Masonic Lodge
The Masonic Lodge was a broad-based, worldwide social and cultural movement with origins in antiquity, which counted the St. John’s Lodge in Boston, established in 1733, as its beginning in this country. George Washington and Benjamin Franklin were Masons.3 Encompassing immigration, urbanization, social solidarity and individual identity, it satisfied a desire to belong. Lodge membership was a mark of recognition and status in the community, and a transcending emotional experience in ritual and décor in the otherwise anonymous atmosphere of urban life. A noted German sociologist, Max Weber, visiting America in 1905, spoke of voluntary associations “as bridging the transition between the closed hierarchical society of the Old World and the fragmented individualism of the New World” and saw them performing a “crucial social function” in American life.4 The well-known social commentator and newspaper columnist, Max Lerner, in his epic work America as a Civilization, saw one of the motivations behind “joining” as “the integrative impulse of forming ties with like-minded people and thus finding status in the community.”5 Ray Willard, organist at the Scottish Rite Cathedral in Joplin, Missouri (M. P. Möller Opus 3441, 1922), observes that membership embraced all walks of life: from business and professional men, many of them community leaders and perhaps well-to-do, to everyday citizens.6 Masonic membership paralleled population growth and reached a peak in the first three decades of the twentieth century. New York State counted 872 lodges and 230,770 members in 1903.7 Pre-World War II Masonic membership in the United States totaled 3,295,872 in 1928.8
Of special interest is the long-recognized connection between the railroad industry and the Masonic Lodge. Railroad men were lodge men, and railroad towns were lodge towns. The railroad was the predominant conveyance in freight and passenger travel in the first decades of the last century. In 1916, railroad mileage in this country peaked at 254,000 miles, and in 1922, railroad employment reached over two million workers, the largest labor force in the American economy.9 These totals reflected the number of trains and crews, station, yard, and track workers, and the maintenance demands of the steam locomotive. The comparatively well-paid railroad workers were no doubt important in building Masonic temples. In 1920, average wages in the railroad industry were 33 percent above those in manufacturing.10 In one of what must have been numerous examples, Masonic employees of the Big Four Railroad in Indianapolis donated eight art-glass windows on the east wall of the second floor foyer of the Scottish Rite Cathedral there (q.v.).11

The market
The Masonic Lodge market differed significantly from other pipe organ markets. For the larger facilities in metropolitan locations, the Masonic building was typically a matrix of rooms, often on several stories, and each with a different décor, e.g., Corinthian Hall, Gothic Hall, Ionic Hall. Each chapter room required a pipe organ to support the ritual proceedings. The centerpiece of the building was the auditorium, manifestly different from a church sanctuary. Typically square in layout, it featured a large curtained stage in front, cushioned opera-chair seating on the main floor, and perhaps side and end balconies. The pipe chambers were quite often in the proscenium above the stage, with other divisions almost anywhere—in back of the stage, above a side balcony, in a rear balcony, etc. Occasionally, chambers with a pipe fence flanked either side of the stage. The organ console was on the floor in front of the stage.
It was especially important that the auditorium instrument look large. Just as an upright or spinet piano would have been out of place on the stage, so too would a two-manual organ console be inappropriate on the floor in front of the stage. It must be a concert grand piano on the stage and a three-manual, better yet a four-manual console on the auditorium floor, with lots of drawknobs or stop tabs for everyone to see. To achieve this image of “bigness” within the limitations of chamber space or perhaps budget, builders often resorted to extensive unification and duplexing.
The Masonic Lodge pipe organ era began in 1860 when E. & G. G. Hook built one-manual instruments for temples in Massachusetts: in Lawrence, 14 registers, Opus 275, and in New Bedford, 12 registers, Opus 281.12 In 1863, William A. Johnson built a one-manual instrument of nine registers, Opus 144, for the lodge in Geneva, New York.13 In 1867, Joseph Mayer, California’s first organbuilder, built an instrument for the “Free Masons” in San Francisco.14 The three organs built by Jardine in 1869 for New York City, in this case for the Odd Fellows Hall, marked the beginning of what would become a salient feature of the lodge market: multiple instruments for one building, often under one contract and several with identical stoplists.15 (See Table 1.) One particularly interesting example was the three instruments Hutchings built for the Masonic Lodge in Boston in 1899. The stoplists were identical (q.v.), but each one was in a different case to conform to the décor of the room. Wind from a single blower was directed to one instrument by a valve opened when the console lid was raised, turning on the blower.16
The pinnacle of the multiple contract practice came first in 1909, when Austin built twelve organs for the Masonic Lodge in New York City; in 1927, when Möller built nine for a temple in Cincinnati, Ohio. Eleven of the twelve Austins were identical two-manual instruments, eight of the nine Möllers.17 An Austin stock model that found its way into the Masonic market was the Chorophone, introduced in 1916. Austin sold nine of these instruments to Masonic Lodges. Opus 896 was exported to the lodge in Manila, the Philippine Islands, in 1920.18

The instrument
R. E. Wagner, vice-president of Organ Supply Industries, points out that the Masonic Lodge pipe organ followed closely—tonally and mechanically—the evolution of the King of Instruments in this country: from the one- and two- manual classic-style tracker organs of the nineteenth century to a brief sojourn with tubular-pneumatic action at the turn of the century, followed by the symphonic-orchestral tonal paradigm and sophisticated electro-pneumatic windchest and console action in the 1920s. It also followed a return to the American classic style beginning later in that decade.19 The liturgy-based nature of Masonic ritual would suggest a church-type instrument, one in which eight-foot pitch predominated. This was true in the beginning and in smaller instruments.
The three Hutchings instruments in Boston (q.v.), Opus 475–477, were each fourteen ranks.20 The eleven identical Austin instruments for New York City in 1909 had five ranks: an 8? Open Diapason on the Great with four ranks duplexed from the Swell (8? Stopped Diapason, 8? Dulciana, 8? Viol d’Orchestra, and 4? Harmonic Flute). There was no pedal. The twelfth organ on this contract was a 17-rank, three-manual organ with the Choir manual duplexed entirely from the ten-rank Swell manual. The seven stops of the Pedal organ were all extensions of manual stops.21 Austin’s two-manual Chorophone comprised four ranks—Bourdon, Dolce, Open Diapason and Viole—unified into 27 speaking stops from 16? to 2?.22
By the 1920s, the Golden Age of the Masonic Lodge pipe organ, the three- or four-manual organ in the lodge auditorium was frequently an eclectic instrument, embracing theatre stops and even toy counters in addition to traditional liturgical stops. Add to this a “quaint” stop now and then, i.e., a bugle call. Did you ever hear of Solomon’s Trumpet? (See 1926-2000 Kimball, Guthrie, Oklahoma q.v.) As Willard points out, these instruments were designed to play the marches, patriotic selections, and orchestral and opera transcriptions used in ritual work, as well as theatre organ and popular music of the day when the auditorium was used for entertainment.23
The mixing of liturgical and theatre stops reflected the fact that in the 1920s the concept of organ music was broadly defined, and with the introduction of the theatre organ, the distinction between liturgical and theatre voicing and sound was blurred. If anything, the eight-foot pitch tonal palette of the church organ, characterized then by wide-scale diapasons and flutes, narrow-scale strings, high-pressure reeds, and the absence of mutations and mixtures, served to further obscure this distinction.
Two stops particularly symbolic of this era and that disappeared until recently, the Stentorphone and the Ophicleide, were found in large lodge organs. Manuel Rosales, well-known California organbuilder, believes they can best be explained as items of fashion. “As the Hope-Jones ideas influenced the times with very large diapasons, the idea of the Stentorphone being a sort of superstar of the diapason family found its way into legitimate specifications. It was placed on the Solo manual rather than being put on the main divisions, and in that capacity wouldn’t destroy the balance between the stops on the Great. Couple the Solo to the Great and it works to beef things up.”24 With the tremolo on the Solo, the Stentorphone could also be used as a solo stop.
The ophicleide, a 19th-century brass orchestral instrument, was said to have been invented in Paris about 1817. It was popular in symphony and opera orchestras and in military bands of the 1830s and 1840s, being eventually replaced by the modern tuba. As a fashionable organ stop, the Ophicleide might appear on the Great manual as a powerful, high-pressure reed, a double tuba which, when coupled to the customary 8? Tuba on this manual, formed a chorus.25
The predominant characteristics of the three- and four-manual Masonic Lodge pipe organs, with the exception of those built by E. M. Skinner, seem obvious when viewed from the stoplists discussed below. They confirm our assumption that the Masonic Lodge instrument differed markedly from other pipe organs. Beginning with extensive unification and duplexing, the number of stops is double or more the number of ranks of pipes. Pedal divisions with only one or two independent ranks were typical, and duplicate consoles, the second perhaps a two-manual to control two divisions, were found. Sometimes second touch and a roll player were added to the console. The high-pressure reeds of the day, Ophicleide and Tuba, found on the Great division, required higher wind pressure than the flues to achieve their desired tone quality and power—ten inches versus six inchePs—and therefore were placed on a separate windchest. The Vox Humana was often placed in its own enclosure. Each manual division had a tremolo, and often individual stops such as the Diapason, Tibia and Vox Humana had separate tremolos. The entire instrument was often totally enclosed. Duplexing and unification were made possible by the complex and sophisticated switching in windchest and console innovations that marked the American builders during this period and that made their product by far the most technologically advanced in the world.
The three-manual Kimball organ, Opus 6781, in the Denver Scottish Rite Cathedral, now Consistory, with 19 ranks, 50 stops and 1,459 pipes, illustrates these features (see stoplist). On the Great division, five ranks comprise eleven speaking stops—four ranks with extensions—and only the 8? Tuba is an independent (one pitch) voice. The Diapason and Tuba each have their own tremolo. The Solo (second) division comprises 10 ranks and 20 stops, with the Gedeckt unified into six stops, from 16? to 13?5?. The third division, designated the Accompaniment manual, counts four ranks and seven unit stops duplexed from the Great. The organist, Charles Shaeffer, comments that the English Horn on the Accompaniment manual is unique to Kimball, voiced closer to the Oboe in contrast to an English Horn on theatre organs, which resembles an English Post Horn. He adds that the Marimba on the Solo is “reiterating,” meaning that it repeats rapidly and therefore contrasts with the single-stroke Harp on the Great.26 The String Mixture is wired from the Salicional, and the Orchestral Oboe from the Gedeckt and Viol d’Orchestra. The Tibia Clausa is independent and has its own tremolo. The nine-stop Pedal organ is entirely duplexed from the Great and Solo divisions. The bugle call is played by buttons above the keyboards. The manual compass is 73 pipes, adopted by many builders during this period to forgo upperwork and achieve brilliance through the 4? coupler, a primary registration aid.27 All divisions are enclosed, and each manual has at least one tremolo. The toy counter and pedal second touch complete the instrument.
The 8? Wald Horn on the Great, a departure from traditional pipework nomenclature, requires an explanation. A Wald Horn is customarily a chorus reed with English shallots, voiced somewhere between a Trumpet and an Oboe.28 In this example, unique to Kimball and employed briefly, 1922–1924, it is a spotted-metal tapered (one-half) open flue rank of medium scale. With more definition than a stopped flute, but with limited harmonics, it is horn-like and perhaps best described as a heavy spitzflute.29 Noteworthy in Kimball organs, and a lasting legacy of this builder, are the superb strings, the work of the legendary voicer George Michel. As the late David Junchen commented: “Michel’s strings set the standard by which all others were judged. Their richness, timbre and incredible promptness of speech, even in the 32? octave, have never been surpassed.”30

Four and five manuals
The four- and five-manual Masonic Lodge era began in 1912, when Hook & Hastings built a 53-rank, 62-stop, five-manual instrument for the Scottish Rite Cathedral in Dallas. Far less unified than later work and with a 61-pipe compass for manual stops, it reflected the church organ background of this eastern builder. But it did contain a Stentorphone and Ophicleide, two consoles, and a player mechanism.31 The next year, 1915, Austin built a five-manual, 74-rank, 89-stop, 4,860-pipe organ, Opus 558, for the Medinah Temple in Chicago. Now in storage, this instrument was for many years the largest Masonic Lodge pipe organ in America and was, perhaps, the best known among the organist fraternity.32
The four- and five-manual market was largely the province of the nationally known major builders Austin, Estey, Kimball, Möller and Skinner (see Table 2). They used large lodge installations in their sales pitch, and buyers were no doubt influenced by them in their choice of builder. Describing their four-manual Möller, Opus 3441, 1922, in Joplin, Missouri, the Scottish Rite Cathedral states: “There were five four-manual organs built by Möller in the early 1920s similar to the Joplin organ. They are in the United States Military Academy, West Point, N.Y., the Scottish Rite pipe organ in San Antonio, Texas, Temple Beth-El, New York City, and the Masonic Building, Memphis, Tennessee.”33 Michael Brooks, recent Sovereign Grand Inspector General of the St. Louis Scottish Rite Cathedral, points out that his temple is the proud owner of one of four Kimball four-manual lodge organs. The others are Guthrie, Oklahoma (q.v.), Minneapolis (now in storage), and Oklahoma City.34
The lodge market also reflected the work of John A. Bell (1864–1935), a prolific designer, who in 1927 was said to have drawn up specifications for over 500 pipe organs in the eastern United States. Bell, a Mason, was organist at the First Presbyterian Church in Pittsburgh for over 40 years.35 Allen Kinzey, Aeolian-Skinner veteran, says Bell’s stoplists typically included a large-scale, heavy-metal, leather-lipped, unenclosed 8? Diapason on the Great. Also, all manual stops of 16? and 8? pitch (excluding celestes) had 73 pipes, while stops of 4? pitch and above had 61.36 Bell designed instruments for Masonic temples in Cincinnati and Dayton and the Scottish Rite Cathedral in Indianapolis.37 (q.v.)
Indianapolis
The Skinner/Aeolian-Skinner five-manual, eight-division, 77-rank, 81-stop, 5,022-pipe organ in the Scottish Rite Cathedral in Indianapolis, Opus 696-696B, is the largest instrument in the Masonic movement in America today (see stoplist). The building’s title is appropriate because it is most likely the largest such edifice ever built in this country and is beyond doubt the most lavishly appointed, replete with Masonic symbolism at every turn: stone carvings and figurines, 70 art glass windows, and elevator door decoration. This architectural masterpiece is crowned by a 212-foot main tower, housing a 63-bell Taylor (Loughborough, England) carillon. The Medieval Gothic interior features imported Carpathian white oak, Russian curly oak, and Italian, Tennessee and Vermont marble.38
This signature instrument was built in 1929 by E. M. Skinner, with four manuals, 65 ranks, 68 stops, 4,365 pipes.39 Skinner had defined his instrument in building church organs and he stayed very close to this paradigm in his lodge installations. With comparatively limited unification and duplexing, this organ features a mixture, mutations and principal chorus on the Great. This organ reflects the influence of John Bell (q.v.). Manual compass is 73 notes for foundation stops, 8? and below, and 61 notes for 4? stops and above. The First Diapason on the Great is 38 scale, heavy metal and leather-lipped. The Second Diapason is 40 scale, a customary scale for the first diapason. These two stops plus the 16? Open Diapason and 8? Gross Flute are unenclosed. The tremolo on the Great is described as high and low wind, reflecting the difference in wind pressure between the flues and the reeds. The Great reeds are on 12-inch wind as is the entire Solo manual, the latter likely because of the Stentorphone there, also 38 scale, heavy metal, and leathered. The Solo Tuba Mirabilis is on 20 inches of wind and not affected by the tremolo. The Diapason on the Swell is also 40 scale and leathered. The 4? Celestial Harp on the Great is subject to sub and super (octave) couplers. The Cathedral Chimes on the Echo has 25 tubes, from tenor C. A description in The Diapason commented: “Couplers and pistons will increase the number of playing devices at the command of the performer to 158.”40 In 1949, Aeolian-Skinner enlarged this instrument with two new divisions of four ranks each.41 A new five-manual console by Reisner was installed in 1969.42

St. Louis
The four-manual Kimball in the Scottish Rite Cathedral in St. Louis, now awaiting restoration, illustrates other features of the lodge pipe organ (see stoplist). With 113 speaking stops from 54 ranks of pipes, a virtually complete toy counter plus piano, marimba, xylophone, harp, chimes and orchestral bells, it is perhaps the apex of the four-manual lodge instrument, a veritable music-making machine. In this organ, the basic manual stop compass is 61 notes and the 8? pitch dominates the tonal palette. Among the 24 stops from ten ranks on the Great, the Principal Diapason is wood and the Twelfth and Fifteenth are taken from the Waldhorn (q.v.). This instrument doesn’t have a mixture on the Great or pretend to have a principal chorus; it is a collection of orchestral colors, including the luxury of three 16? open flues on the Swell, all oriented to fundamental tone as illustrated by the Phonon Diapason there, which emphasizes the eight-foot tone.43 The unit Gedeckt on the Swell speaks as six stops, from 16? to 13?5?. The Swell has separate tremolos for the Tibia Clausa and the strings. The Vox Humana vibratos on the Swell and the Echo are a tremolo. The Pedal organ counts 25 stops derived from two ranks; a 32? Bourdon, and a 32? Bombarde with three extensions. The rest are borrowed from or extensions of manual stops.

The builders
The lodge market was important to American builders in new installations, repeat sales, replacing trackers with modern instruments, additions and upgrades. The bulk of these organs were, not surprisingly, two-manual instruments, and some were stock models, designed to accommodate what we have elsewhere called the commodity segment of the market.44 For small instruments, there was scarcely any brand preference or real or imagined product differentiation to the buyer. To these lodges an organ was an organ and the sooner the better. As in other markets, a second-hand trade emerged with instruments sold to Masonic Lodges from elsewhere.
Table 3 portrays the work of thirteen builders, names familiar today. The larger firms—Austin, Estey, Kimball and Möller, well known coast-to-coast through numerous installations and with aggressive sales representation—accounted for the majority of lodge instruments. Factory production dominated the industry during this period, and these builders could meet any requirement: budget, placement and timetable. Regional builders Hillgreen-Lane and Pilcher also enjoyed lodge business, as did many local firms. In 1917, Reuben Midmer & Sons counted six organs for the Masonic Temple in Brooklyn. Lewis & Hitchcock built instruments for Washington, D.C. and Baltimore.45 In California, an early last-century firm, the Murray M. Harris Company, built lodge organs for Fresno, Oakland, and San Francisco, California as well as for Santa Fe, New Mexico.46 In 1928, the Rochester Pipe Organ Company built two identical three-manual, 20-rank instruments for the Masonic Temple in Rochester, New York.47 In 1908, the Adrian Organ Company rebuilt a nine-rank, one-manual organ, from two prior locations, for the Masonic Temple in Adrian, Michigan.48
The lodge market also figured in the locational history of the American organ industry. In 1859, the Pilcher Brothers, then in St. Louis, built a one-manual organ for the Golden Rule Lodge there. In April 1863, perhaps in search of a market opportunity, they moved to Chicago where, in September, they contracted to build a one-manual organ for the Oriental Lodge there.49 In 1919, the Reuter-Schwartz Company of Trenton, Illinois built an instrument for the Masonic Temple in Lawrence, Kansas. This prompted their move to Lawrence, having found a source of capital in the Russell family who, in turn, found a business opportunity for their son Charlie, just graduated from the University of Kansas. Charlie Russell became the bookkeeper at Reuter, and the Russell family owned Reuter for many years.50
Many of the larger instruments, sources of pride for these lodges, are regularly serviced and updated as needed, perhaps with major funding from prominent members. When the signature 1926 Kimball in the Scottish Rite Masonic Center in Guthrie, Oklahoma (four manuals, 67 ranks, 72 speaking stops, 5,373 pipes)51 required renovation in 1990, Judge and Mrs. Frederick Daugherty financed the project. The work, by long-time curators McCrary Pipe Organ Company of Oklahoma City, included solid-state switching and relays, new keyboards, and new stop and combination action. A digital recording and playback unit was installed, so the instrument can be played for tours of the building—a common practice in large temples. Completing the project was installation of a full-length 32? Pedal Bombarde, built by F. J. Rogers in England, and a horizontal trumpet, dutifully called Solomon’s Trumpet, reflecting the role of King Solomon and his temple in Masonic ritual.52

Summary and conclusions
The Masonic Lodge pipe organ is another illustration of the role of the King of Instruments in American culture. The Masons, a culturally and socially prominent feature of American life, found the instrument an economic and efficient vehicle in meeting the musical needs of their ritual proceedings. The tonal resources of the larger instruments afforded almost unlimited capabilities in the full spectrum of instrumental music. This was made possible by technological advances in organbuilding, which mark a singular achievement of the American industry. In many locations, these magnificent instruments enjoy the respect and admiration of today’s Masonic membership, and in the larger organ world are recognized as a vital segment in the rich and colorful history of pipe organ building in America.

For research assistance and critical comments on earlier drafts of this paper, the author gratefully acknowledges: Jack Bethards, E. A. Boadway, Michael Brooks, Mark Caldwell, John Carnahan, Ronald Dean, Dave Fabry, Steuart Goodwin, Keith Gottschall, Allen Kinzey, Fred Kortepeter, Dennis Milnar, Rick Morel, George Nelson, Albert Neutel, Orpha Ochse, Don Olson, Louis Patterson, Michael Quimby, Michele Raeburn, Robert Reich, Gary Rickert, Manuel Rosales, Dorothy Schaake, Kurt Schakel, Alan Sciranko, Charles Shaeffer, Jack Sievert, Richard Taylor, R. E. Wagner, Martin Walsh and Ray Willard.

R. E. Coleberd, an economist and retired petroleum industry executive, is a contributing editor of The Diapason. He is a director of The Reuter Organ Company.

Introduction

In the following narrative, the interaction of an organist and an organbuilder in the design of a new instrument and selection of a builder is described in some detail by each of them. The organist, Jerome Meachen, an Oberlin and Union graduate, was organist/choirmaster of St. John’s Episcopal Church in Waterbury, Connecticut. In 1957 St. John’s, upon the recommendation of Meachen, acquired a 70-rank, three-manual McManis organ. It was followed, when he changed positions, by a 67-rank, three-manual at Redeemer Episcopal Church in Sarasota, Florida (completed in 1966), and in 1973, by a 49-rank, three-manual for Manatee Community College, Bradenton, Florida. The builder, Charles McManis, a trained organist who had apprenticed briefly with Walter Holtkamp before World War II, operated a small shop in Kansas City, Kansas. His skill in flue voicing would become widely recognized and acclaimed in a sixty-year career, which counted more than 125 new instruments and rebuilds.

The discussion highlights the steps in the evolution of their tonal philosophy. It was a process of listening, comparing and choosing sounds and stops in the quest for authenticity in the revolutionary epoch that characterized American organbuilding in the decades following World War II. Before their first meeting, Meachen had acquired a preference for non-legato playing while McManis had been taught the legato style. Despite this difference, the two men found common ground in their admiration and profound respect for the tonal work of William A. Johnson, a legendary nineteenth-century New England tracker builder, and his successors.

Background

The choice of a relatively unknown independent builder in 1956 was decidedly the exception for this era. In the 1950s, pipe organ building in America was the province of the integrated major builders who had controlled the market for new instruments since the turn of the century. M. P. Möller of Hagerstown, Maryland, the “General Motors” of the industry, with a force of more than 400 workers, delivered 365 instruments in 1928 and in the decade 1950-60, with perhaps 200 employees, built 125 organs per year.1 Other builders, those who had survived the drastic shakeout during the Great Depression of the 1930s, were likewise busy, with comparatively large work forces and lengthy backlogs.

In retrospect we might safely say the 1950s, though a vibrant decade, marked the beginning of the end of what could be termed the “commercial” era of organbuilding in America that extended back to the 1920s and perhaps even earlier. Builders, including such highly successful businessmen as Mathias Peter Möller, concentrated almost exclusively on production to meet the enormous market demand in all venues. Company executives, sons of the founder, not musicians, were largely unfamiliar with the great literature for the organ. Sadly, they scarcely comprehended the interface between Bach, Buxtehude and other composers and the subtleties and nuances of fine voicing and finishing in building the King of Instruments. Their instruments were often quite successful in the context of a “production organ,” with uniform and consistent voicing, thanks to the skills of talented shop voicers, but, in retrospect, they were perhaps lacking in artistic statement, which can come only from meticulous tonal finishing. On small organs there was virtually no concept of tonal finishing once the instrument was installed and tuned. Only with the large “signature” instruments was time scheduled for tonal finishing, for example by John Schleigh of Möller and Herb Pratt of Aeolian-Skinner.2

Yet the organ reform movement was underway and gaining momentum, beginning with the pathfinding efforts in the 1930s of E. Power Biggs, Melville Smith, King Covell and others. The major themes are well known: lower wind pressures, smaller scales and higher pitches in flue work and the introduction of chorus in place of solo reeds. A “vertical” tonal palette emerged, featuring a full range of pitches in place of the former “horizontal” palette, dominated by stops of 8-foot pitch. These elements combined in the cohesive blending of individual voices, and the emphasis on ensemble in the building of primary and secondary choruses as reflected in the work of Walter Holtkamp and G. Donald Harrison in the North German and American Classic paradigms.

Leaders in the organist profession, highly educated, widely traveled and well-read, people like Robert Noehren and Parvin Titus, were captivated by the new sounds and ensembles which awakened them to the instrument’s rich music from antiquity. They began paying close attention to European instruments, through travel and recordings, as well as 19th-century work of notable American builders (Hook, Erben, Johnson and others). They wisely looked beyond the stoplist and listened carefully to the sound. The reintroduction of the tracker instrument, first by European builders, followed by an emerging U.S. industry of small shops, reinforced the historic and intrinsic artistic value of the King of Instruments. Steady improvement in the tone quality of the electronic instruments soon spelled the end of the commodity segment of the pipe organ market rooted in the image of an organ as a utilitarian device in support of corporate worship.3

By the end of the century it was recognized that the heart and soul of a pipe organ, a work of art, is the tonal edifice, which begins with a vision and continues through design, voicing and tonal finishing of the instrument. These requirements were most often found in the combined talents of the tonal architect and skilled, dedicated artisans in his shop, seldom in one individual. Harrison, Holtkamp and Fisk, for example, were superb designers but were not voicers. Schopp, Pearson and Zajic were supremely talented reed voicers. But once in a while one individual comprised them all. George Michel of Kimball perhaps came close and, in the author’s judgment, Charles McManis fits this image.

In any revolutionary epoch, change in an established industry comes slowly and sometimes from the outside. American organbuilders, badly shaken by the lean years of the Great Depression and World War II, were to some degree insular, isolated and ingrown. On balance they were reluctant to abandon existing practices and slow to adopt new and untried techniques with unknown consequences. Voicers, trained in-house on high-pressure, wide-scale stops of 8-foot pitch, scarcely comprehended the new generation of flues and reeds. They and their superiors had been disinterested in historic instruments, American and European, which they viewed as antiquated and obsolete. But they could not ignore the revolutionary changes around them, and some firms wisely brought in outsiders--men like Richard Piper at Austin and Franklin Mitchell at Reuter--who were listening and eager to apply their ideas to new stoplists.

At the close of World War II, the demand for organ work far exceeded the supply of qualified people. Factories enjoyed lengthy backlogs and were hard pressed to meet production schedules. Service firms comprised primarily older men, former employees of firms who had failed in the Great Depression--for example, Syl Kohler in Louisville (Pilcher) and Ben Sperbeck and Milton Stannke in Rock Island (Bennett). Honest and hard working, they can best be described as mechanics; few had either voicing experience or any concept of a modern chorus or ensemble. This afforded an opportunity for a newcomer, a young man who had listened carefully, had a firm conviction of what pipe sound should be, and had acquired the voicing skills to bring the sound of a pipe to the tone quality he desired.

Jerome Meachen writes:

A native of Oklahoma City, I studied organ with Dana Lewis Griffin, a student of David McK. Williams at St. Bartholomew’s Episcopal Church on Park Avenue in New York City, and then enrolled at Oberlin College where my teachers were Leo Holden and Grigg Fountain. Holden was a 19th-century organ teacher--Rheinberger, romantic, and very happy with the E. M. Skinner organ in the chapel. His whole approach to organ playing was: “write down the fingering I give you and the registration I want you to use.” It was a very dry--and I felt antiquated--approach. In contrast, Fountain said: “select your own registration from what you hear, we will discuss it and you defend it.” This was essential to broadening my understanding of organ music and what I wanted to develop in my own touch on the instrument. While at Oberlin I practiced on the Johnson organ at Christ Episcopal Church in Oberlin courtesy of Arnold Blackburn, also on the Oberlin organ faculty. This awakened me to the beautiful voicing of this builder. Of course northeast Ohio was Holtkamp country. When I began studying with Fountain, my last two years, he had just obtained a Holtkamp at St. Paul’s Lutheran Church in Cleveland. While I was fascinated with the sounds of this instrument, I found it ear-shattering. I well remember one Saturday afternoon when I was practicing at St. Paul’s. Walter Holtkamp came in, climbed up on the Swell box and said play full organ. He just reveled in the volume, but I found that sort of sound excruciating.

A milestone in my career was a recital at Oberlin by Ernest White. I was fascinated by his approach, non-legato, in contrast to legato, which was the basic style at Oberlin. Legato evolved because of the acoustics organists had to deal with in American churches. Nothing happened after you took your finger off the note so you had to pull everything together.

After graduating from Oberlin I enrolled in the School of Sacred Music at Union Theological Seminary in New York City, where I arranged to study with Ernest White, then an adjunct faculty member. We shared a common interest in repertoire and liturgy. White had me listen to orchestral recordings of Mozart and commented: remember, “Bach was a violinist as well as an organist.” Bob Clark, another graduate student, and I found White way ahead of his time in non-legato sound, which broadens your understanding of the organ. This is the sound one finds in Europe and what we were striving for in America. Working with White was working with the literature and developing the capacity to do his particular style of non-legato in terms of liturgy, the Anglican approach and plainsong. This was very enlightening to me. I was fascinated by White’s approach to playing the studio organ at St. Mary the Virgin, the second studio instrument, this one by Möller. His technique was a detached sound, like the ringing of bells. Unfortunately, the voicing was so loud it was difficult to listen to. This alerted me to the distinction between intensity and decibels, a key distinction in my thinking. I was also intrigued by the design of the organ, which had a 32’ Cornet using individual stops and two Swell boxes providing two ensembles. This inspired the use of separate swell boxes and couplers for flues and reeds at St. John’s. My admiration for Johnson continued when I practiced on their instrument at the Mott Haven Dutch Reformed Church in the Bronx while at Union.4

Charles McManis writes:

As a pre-teenager in Kansas City in the 1920s, with my parents I often rode the streetcar to Independence Boulevard Christian Church to hear Sunday afternoon recitals by the legendary Hans Feil on the four-manual, 1910 Austin organ. In the 1930s while I was a student at the University of Kansas, I spent summers and holidays working with Peter E. Nielsen, a local serviceman, tuning and rebuilding pipe organs. Two of these instruments were Johnson trackers from the 1880s.5 They were especially impressive and were to influence fundamentally my concept of voicing.

Enrolling as a liberal arts major at the University of Kansas in Lawrence I became a student of University Organist Laurel Everette Anderson, an Oberlin master’s graduate who then studied for three years in Paris with Joseph Bonnet. He taught the legato method, and emphasized proper turning of phrases and making real music out of notes. He greatly expanded my knowledge of the pipe organ and emphasized nuances of color and singing quality in organ voices. Following graduation with an A.B. degree in 1936 and having already set my sights on becoming an organbuilder, I obtained a Mus.B. at KU in 1937, which required my playing an hour-long recital from memory. The thought occurred to me that I might be the first organbuilder who could play more than “Yankee Doodle” on what he had built.

I began my organbuilding career with a shop in the basement of my parents’ home. I rebuilt three organs and built one new instrument. My Opus 2, 1939--electrifying and adding nine ranks to a 1910 tubular-pneumatic Kilgen--is still playing in the Central Christian Church in Kansas City, Kansas. Then, having learned of his growing prominence in the organ reform movement, I apprenticed with Walter Holtkamp in Cleveland for a few months, eager to learn from him. I assisted with the installation of a three-manual Holtkamp organ at Olivet College in Michigan. It had Great and Positiv slider chests, but the Swell had ventil stop-action for want of sufficient space for a slider chest. When I compared the sounds of slider chest pipes and those on the ventil chest I was surprised to find that I could hear no difference. Walter’s instruments were visually well designed and beautiful to look at but, frankly, I was disappointed with his ensemble sound and tone quality. The voicing lacked a certain richness of tone. In checking Holtkamp pipes I noticed that he nicked only on the languids and not on the lower lips. As a result, pipes occasionally tended to emit an abnormal squeaking sound. He was not interested in building a truly classic organ as much as building a distinctive Holtkamp organ. In retrospect I find that I employed very few of Holtkamp’s ideas in my later work. Based on my background in music, I wasn’t hearing in his organs the sounds I wished to hear in my own instruments.

Following the attack on Pearl Harbor and the U.S. entry in World War II, I enlisted in the Army. Prior to shipment overseas my outfit was stationed at Camp Kilmer, New Jersey, for a few days. I went on pass to New York City to hear G. Donald Harrison’s new Aeolian-Skinner in the main sanctuary of St. Mary the Virgin Episcopal Church. This was my first acquaintance with mixtures and upperwork, which Laurel Anderson had talked about at KU, but which were conspicuously absent in the Austin organ in Hoch Auditorium there. Then, as a chaplain’s assistant, I was stationed in Europe where I took every opportunity to play and inspect European instruments. I remember, in particular, the famous Cavaillé-Coll instrument in the church of St. Ouen at Rouen, which inspired Guilmant’s Eighth Organ Symphony. This was the first time I had seen a five-rank mounted cornet and reeds with sunken blocks in the boots.6 After the war I returned to Kansas City, Kansas and set up shop again. On one occasion, being in New York City, I attended a recital given by Ernest White on his new Möller studio organ at the Church of St. Mary the Virgin. I left at intermission because the organ was painfully loud. In my voicing I try to make a rank of pipes only as loud as needed to ping the tone off the walls, blowing only hard enough to fill the room at the desired volume.7

Jerome: Following graduation from Union, I was appointed organist/choirmaster at St. John’s Episcopal Church in Waterbury, Connecticut. When we went looking for a new instrument to replace the 1869 Hook & Hastings, I wasn’t enamored with the sounds of Holtkamp, Möller, Schlicker and Austin, and mentioned my dilemma to my good friend Bob Clark, whose judgment I valued. He was organist at the Peddie Memorial Baptist Church in Newark, New Jersey, where my wife was soloist, having the best-paying solo position in the area, while I was at Union. He said, “Why don’t you check with Charles McManis, who builds organs that sing and don’t shout.” When I learned he was in Danbury, Connecticut, I went down to get acquainted, and we hit it off immediately.

Charles: In the early 1950s I became acquainted with Robert Noehren through our writings in The Diapason and The American Organist magazines. I worked for him on the Hill Auditorium Skinner in Ann Arbor, and built a new organ for Frankenmuth, Michigan, where he was the consultant. When he was named consultant on the Johnson at Emmanuel Lutheran Church in Danbury, Connecticut, whose organist had been his student at Michigan, I was called in. My strong feelings concerning Johnson flue pipe voicing began during my apprenticeship days in Kansas City. I discovered that diapason pipes mouth-blown very gently, then increased to full volume, had scarcely any change in pitch. Volume was regulated at the toe hole, not by opening the flue. In contrast, classical open toe voicing regulated volume at the mouth, which I found totally inadequate. I revoiced the 8-foot Principal, increasing its richness of tone, primarily by opening the toes and, to a lesser degree adjusting the mouths. Jerry and I connected as musicians, no doubt in part because I too had a degree in organ. We both agreed on what we didn’t like. I obtained the contract for the St. John’s, Waterbury, organ (see photo and stoplist) in part because Parvin Titus was the consultant. The St. John’s rector, Rev. John Youngblood, had been a curate in Cincinnati, knew Mr. Titus and trusted his judgment. Also, I had built the new instrument for the Second Church of Christ, Scientist in Dayton, where Titus also had been the consultant.

Jerome: The Johnson sound was already in my head, not only from Oberlin, but from the fine Johnson in Mott Haven Dutch Reformed Church in the Bronx, where I first practiced when I went to New York. I explained that we were looking for intensity not decibels in organ sound, colors and ensembles that sing. Charles showed me what he was doing. It was soon obvious this was just the ticket for us. These initial impressions were confirmed when my wife and I visited St. Paul’s Episcopal Church in Kansas City, Kansas, and heard for the first time a complete McManis instrument. All the voices were exquisite; the 8-foot principal was a well-supported, big baritone sound. Having worked in training choirs at an early age, striving to blend individual voices, I found in the lovely individual voices of this organ an exquisite ensemble and chorus.

Charles: When Jerry came to Kansas City, the mixtures and ensemble sounds on the Great and Swell at St. Paul’s were what really got to him. The voices together on each manual resulted in contrasting sounds but very much related. We talked at length about voicing and drew up a specification for a three-manual instrument for St. John’s. (See specification.) I also discussed what I had done in reworking old pipes and changing pitch. This was very important because in the 1869 Hook & Hastings at St. John’s a number of old ranks were reworked.

I first saw Waterbury after Meachen returned from Kansas City, and was dismayed to find dry acoustics and such terribly large scales in the Hook & Hastings. The only principal stop I could use was the 16-foot on the Great, which would work well in the Pedal division. We were able to cut down and revoice a number of 8-foot stops; for example, the 4-foot principal on the Swell had been an 8-foot violin diapason. If the scale and mouth treatment were correct, the desired sound would follow.

Let me quote from my forthcoming autobiography to explain the tonal philosophy of this instrument: “The classic Werkprinzip theory of terraced manual pitches had not yet hit the AGO cocktail hour conversation when Jerry and I drew up the design for Opus 35 (St. John’s Church Waterbury, CT) on that Sunday afternoon. Submitted to organ consultant Parvin Titus, he heartily approved of the design, but suggested inclusion of the rather outstanding Oboe from the 1869 H&H. But back to the Werkprinzip! While numerous other stops are needed in each division, the backbone is the Principal chorus, as shown below:

I:              Great     8’ Principal       11/3’      Mixture

II:            Swell    4’ Principal        2/3’       Scharf

III:          Brustwerk           2’ Principal        1/3’       Cymbel

Pedal     8’ Principal       11/3’     Mixture

For purposes of contrapuntal clarity, the Pedal chorus should be the same pitch as the Great, plus suitable 16’ underpinning. Polyphony does better without the growl of a sub-octave mixture cluster.”

After the tornado hit downtown Waterbury in July, 1989, heavily damaging the St. John’s organ, I replaced 35 ranks of pipes including replacement of the Brustwerk Singend Regal with a brass Krummhorn and substitution of a Swell 4’ Clarion for the earlier 4’ Krummhorn. Also, the 32’ extension of the Pedal reed was linked to the Posaune instead of the Contrafagotto.

Jerome: Another factor which impressed me about the McManis was its compatibility with what I call a theatre sound by which I mean, it had to dance. In the theatre organ you had a detached pedal and a strong emphasis on the melodic line when you are thinking bass line and melody. This is why I was very comfortable doing figured bases. It was non-legato; it was instrumental. When you were featuring the posthorn, you were quite willing to detach it. My father loved theatre organ, so from the time I started playing, I developed something of a theatre style. Searle Wright, the well-known organist at St. Paul’s Chapel, Columbia University, also did a great theatre style.

Charles inspired my definition of intensity because he viewed the entire instrument as a whole. In a three-manual you could draw the principal and mixture on each division, couple them together and you had a basic ensemble evoking a very intense, rich but not very loud sound because you didn’t have to fill in and thus did not have an awful lot of stops working. Thus the concept of full organ was very discriminating; the full organ piston didn’t bring on everything. You are dealing with colors and when you put everything on you end up with brown or gray. And with a tremolo on each division if you wanted to cantus firmus you could do it anywhere in the instrument.

This instrument fulfills my belief in the theological aspect of an organ. With my developing interest in liturgy I was very much aware of the person in the pew. I hold that the organ must be people-friendly, in support of congregational singing whether it be chant or hymnody. Surrounding rather than hitting the congregation with sound--making a joyful noise, not just a noise. Charles spoke of attending a recital on the Möller practice organ at St. Mary the Virgin in New York and finding it so loud he left after the first half of the program. I agree. White offered me a chance to practice on that organ but I told him I would be using only one or two stops so I might as well practice on the chapel organ. The sound was so high in decibels I couldn’t hear it.

Redeemer and Manatee

This paper has focused on the St. John’s organ. Those at Redeemer Episcopal Church and Manatee Community College continued the fundamental practices in the philosophy of McManis and Meachen. They also reflected modifications and forward thinking in their approach, as did the rebuilding and restoration of St. John’s in 1989.

At Redeemer in Florida, the former ten-rank Möller, with its subsequent addition of nineteen Aeolian-Skinner ranks, was skillfully integrated into the 67-rank new instrument. In place of the 16’ Quintaton on the Great, they chose a 16’ Gemshorn mounted on the chancel wall, extended to an 8’ Gemshorn and a 4’ tapered flute in a seamless tonal progression. The Great and Positiv exposed chests were equipped with toeboard expansion chambers to increase richness of tone.

The 49-rank Manatee Community College organ was installed in Neel Auditorium at the point of a pie-shaped building on a 35-foot shelf at the back of the stage. In an obviously “werkprinzip” layout (see photo, page 20), in a variety of shapes, it was enclosed in a mahogany case. The 16’ Pedal Principal exposed at the center hid the movement of Swell shutters behind. To its left were the lower notes of the 16’ Subbass and 16’ Posaune; to the right, the pipes of the Hooded Trumpet and more Subbass metal pipes. To the far left in the left façade was the Great 8’ Principal, and to the far right the 4’ Positiv Principal in the façade. Roofs of the façades differed but all were related to the focal point mentioned above.

The Manatee Great included a 16’ Gemshorn, all the usual 8’ and 4’ stops, plus a normal 11/3’ Mixture, a 2/3’ Acuta, and an 8’ Trumpet. The Swell mixture was a 1’ Scharf and the Positiv had a 1/3’ Cymbel. The thoroughly adequate Pedal division included a 32’ Dulzian and the usual 8’ and 4’ ranks. As would be expected, the Pedal mixture lowest pitch was 11/3’, but pipe scales were larger than those of the Great Mixture.

Summary

The above dialogue illustrates the way in which the concept of organ sound in the mind of an organist and soon-to-be builder begins with formal study of the instrument and is heavily influenced by the instructor and his experience. With this background, they are then prepared to compare and contrast a wide variety of sound in determining their own definition of it: for Meachen and McManis, a singing sound. It also argues that the ultimate test of the voicer’s art, be it Johnson or McManis, is the 8’ Diapason found on the Great, a belief shared by organists and builders for many years.

In an article in The Diapason, based upon his lecture to the AIO Convention in Pittsburgh in 1977, McManis explains the details of flue voicing and the practices of Tannenberg, Gratian, Kilgen, Hook & Hastings, Johnson, Wurlitzer, Estey (William E. Haskell), Cavaillé-Coll, and Kimball.8 This paper, now considered a classic, together with the recognition of his peers in his selection as instructor in flue voicing at a seminar of the American Institute of Organbuilders, established him, in the author’s judgment, as one of the finest flue voicers of the twentieth century.9

Charles passed away, at age 91, on December 3, 2004 in South Burlington, Vermont. Providentially, he and his wife Judith had just completed his autobiography. It contains vivid recollections of personalities and detailed descriptions of his instruments in a sixty-year career that spanned the arc of the postwar history of organbuilding in America. This priceless volume is scheduled to be published by the Organ Historical Society in 2005. It will find a prominent place on the shelf of every organist, organbuilder and organ enthusiast.

For research assistance and critical comments on drafts of this paper, the author gratefully acknowledges: Gene Bedient, Jerry Dawson, Charles Eames, Donald Gillette, Albert Neutel, Barbara Owen, Michael Quimby, Elizabeth Schmidt, Jack Sievert and R. E. Wagner.

A Neglected Chapter in the History of Organbuilding in America

R. E. Coleberd is a contributing editor of The Diapason. An economist and retired petroleum industry executive, he is a director of The Reuter Organ Company.

Pipe organ building in the United States spans over two centuries and totals tens of thousands of instruments. The scope and sweep of the King of Instruments in American culture far exceeds that of other nations and reached its zenith in the first three decades of the last century. Pipe organs were built for hospitals, hotels, yachts, lodge halls, municipal auditoriums, high schools, colleges and universities, churches, private residences, soldiers' homes, theaters, and mortuaries, a category that includes cemetery chapels and mausoleums. These venues can be interpreted as market segments, each with its own characteristics, demand determinants, and time period. The mortuary pipe organ has been totally neglected in the history of organbuilding in this country; none of the well-known studies even mentions it and it is doubtful whether the countless papers written in higher education do either. Perhaps this is not surprising. Conservatively estimated, approximately 600 instruments were built expressly for the funeral industry, accounting for less than two percent of the total output of American builders and even far less in voiced ranks produced.1 Yet a closer look at this product (which the author considers a special instrument), its market and its builders reveals a fascinating epoch which surely belongs in the rich and colorful history of organbuilding in America.

The mortuary pipe organ was a uniquely American product, an instrument whose mechanical features and tonal characteristics departed significantly from the conventional church organ even though its purpose was to provide "churchly" music in a quasi-liturgical setting.2 Its development underscores the entrepreneurship and innovations of American builders who responded to the requirements of the evolving funeral home industry. The heyday of the mortuary pipe organ was over a half century ago: most were built during the 1920s and 1930s; only a few were built after WWII. A surprising number are in use today, routinely serviced and restored as needed.

The Instrument

The mortuary pipe organ as a distinctive instrument was one example of the small, often self-contained instruments developed and marketed by the organbuilding industry in the first three decades of the last century. These instruments marked a milestone in the evolution of the instrument, in the spectrum of keyboard music and in the choice of music media in an institutional setting. The Austin Company, introducing the four-rank Chorophone--"The Ideal Small Pipe Organ"--in 1916, had correctly forecast that a low-cost pipe organ requiring little space would open a vast new market now being supplied by the reed organ or piano. "We have . . . long realized that there is a large demand for an instrument which can be sold for somewhat less than $2,000.00," to quote their sales brochure,3 adding that such an instrument "would be within the reach of a larger number of clients who need a serviceable organ, but are now restricted to the use of a reed organ or piano,"4 an observation which certainly describes a funeral home. The option of a player-attachment greatly enhanced the utility of the instrument and gave it a competitive advantage in the choice of a keyboard medium. Other builders soon followed with small instruments and, borrowing from the automobile industry, named each model (see Wicks box) to increase market awareness and, hopefully, influence buyer selection. Pilcher's was "The Cloister," Möller "The Artiste," Kilgen "The Petite Ensemble," and one of Aeolian-Skinner's numbered series "The Marie Antoinette." These models were ideally suited to the mortuary market.

The new generation of small instruments closely paralleled the mechanical design of the theatre organ in that both required an individual magnet and valve per pipe, based upon what organbuilders refer to as the unit principle. This is a radical departure from the much acclaimed Austin Universal Air Chest and the conventional slider, pitman and ventil windchests found in church organs. In the unit principle, each pipe can be accessed by any manual or pedal key as required, making unification possible. Conversely, in the straight chest system, the electrical impulse from the key contact must work through a matrix of stop and key actions before pipe speech. In addition to its close mechanical similarity, the mortuary instrument also paralleled tonally the emerging theatre organ of the early twentieth century. Each used as its first rank the stopped flute, and the Vox Humana was found early in the stoplists of both of these instruments.

The mortuary instrument was the quintessential unit pipe organ. As few as two ranks could be unified and duplexed into as many as eighteen speaking stops over two manuals and pedal (see Wicks Miniature). The two fundamental flue ranks, found in virtually every mortuary instrument, were the stopped flute, i.e., Bourdon, playable at 16, 8, 4, 22/3, and 2 foot pitches, and the Salicional, customarily playable at 8 and 4 foot pitches and sometimes at 16' TC. Together they provided the required "churchly" sound of the organ, reinforcing the religious nature of the funeral service and meeting the emotional needs of the bereaved. In addition, by combining these two ranks at different pitches, synthetic stops were produced, adding to the tonal palette. When the 22/3' Bourdon is added to the 8' Salicional, the result is an Oboe, a useful solo stop. Combining the 8' Bourdon with its 22/3' extension, the twelfth, produces a Quintadena sound. To give the illusion of greater tonal resources, builders renamed every pitch of a unit rank. This was customary with the stopped flute, but now the Salicional becomes a Contra Viol at 16' TC and a 4' Violina. The third rank in a mortuary organ, with the exception of Wicks, was quite often the Vox Humana. People were accustomed to hearing a quivering Vox Humana in church and theatre organs, and thus it augmented the ambience of a mortuary service. [The Vox Humana appeared to define the pipe organ of the 1920s far more even than the Zimbelstern and Positiv of the 1950s and 60s. In recent decades the horizontal trumpet has become a defining characteristic and almost a necessity.] A fourth rank in a mortuary organ would most likely be a Dulciana or Erzahler and a fifth rank, finally, a Diapason.

The mortuary instrument was, of necessity, a small one given the limited space available in a typical funeral home. Builders recognized the space limitations and developed a product to meet them. Möller, one of the few builders who actively solicited this market, wrote in its brochure describing a three-rank cabinet organ (Bourdon, Salicional, Diapason Conique): "M. P. Möller has developed an organ adequately meeting the requirements of a funeral service and so compact in size and reasonable in price that it finds a place in the equipment of every funeral director."5 The need for compactness is evident throughout the design and construction of the instrument and in the choice of pipe ranks and scales. Builders chose small strings, i.e., the Salicional, Viola and Aeoline, and used a smaller scale throughout the compass of the stopped flute to stay within cabinet dimensions. The most dramatic example of space economy was the use of free reeds in the 16' octave of the stopped flute, found in many cabinet instruments (see photo). These the industry reportedly obtained from Estey, the largest builder of reed organs and a logical supplier.

Perhaps two-thirds of all mortuary organs built were cabinet instruments, often with a player attachment, which could be placed almost anywhere and function effectively. At the James O'Donnell Funeral Home in Hannibal, Missouri, dating back five generations, the 1928 three-rank Wicks cabinet organ is located on a landing on the second floor with the music wafting down the stairway to the services room below.6 Many were installed in attics or wherever space was available. Typical was the 1924 three-rank Schoenstein placed in an alcove above the chapel floor at N. Gray Morticians in San Francisco.7

The Market

The demand for a pipe organ in the mortuary trade grew rapidly in the 1920s and reached its peak in the 1930s although there had been a few installations around the turn of the century. Hook and Hastings built a one-manual, nine-stop instrument, Opus 1246, for the Forest Hills Mortuary Chapel in Boston in 1885, and another one-manual, Opus 2243, for a mortuary in Canandaigua, New York in 1910.8 Hutchings built a two-manual, eight-stop duplexed organ for the West Parish Cemetery Chapel in Andover, Massachusetts in 1907.9

This emerging market coincided with a major shift in funeral services, from the home and church to the mortuary or cemetery chapel, well established by the 1920s.10 Morticians surmised their establishment must contain public rooms for casket selection, viewing and services, far more space than previously required for pre-service preparation. In metropolitan areas spacious facilities were built in popular architectural styles, typically with manicured and lighted lawns and off-street parking. In outlying neighborhoods and small towns, large former private dwellings were often converted into mortuaries. Soon a pipe organ became a competitive necessity, a matter of "keeping up with the Joneses" in a business sense. Möller recognized this in their brochure which read: "Music presents to the progressive mortician an opportunity to enhance his services. Only the dignified, artistic tones of a pipe organ can definitely fulfill the requirements necessary to make music the foremost advertising medium of the mortician."11 The J. P. Seeburg Corporation of Chicago was even more effusive. Advertising in Southern Funeral Director, a leading trade publication, they asked: "Has Your Funeral Home A Soul? What the Soul is to a human so is a Pipe Organ to the mortuary. Without the enthralling presence of its solemn music the service lacks that vital quality--sacred atmosphere."12

Funeral directors, who scarcely knew one organ stop from another, were indifferent to the origin of the instrument or its builder; they were acutely price conscious and were easily satisfied with anything that supplied the required churchly sound. A local market could often be supplied by builders' showrooms or agents. The 1928 Geneva organ in the prestigious Stine & McClure Mortuary in Kansas City, Missouri, restored in recent years by Jerry Dawson, began as a demonstrator on the balcony of the Jenkins Music Company downtown emporium.13 In the 1920s and 1930s a significant trade emerged in used instruments, from private residences and theaters, the latter often repossessed from failed movie houses. The two-manual, three-rank, 16-stop Estey installed in Resurrection Chapel at Forest Lawn Cemetery in Glendale, California, in 1930, had been built for the Estey Studio in Los Angeles and later installed in a local radio station.14 The Style D-Special Wurlitzer built for the American Theater in Walla Walla, Washington, in 1922 was installed in Elderding's Mortuary in Aberdeen, Washington, in 1935.15 Funeral homes became a promising place to unload a repossessed instrument and for the buyer no doubt a bargain. A survey of builder lists reveals that almost anything called a pipe organ could find new life (pun intended) in a mortuary. When Balcom & Vaughan of Seattle installed a three-rank instrument in 1941 in the Stoller Funeral Home in Camas, Washington, it comprised a Wurlitzer console, Morton windchest, Hinners swell shades, a Smith flute and a Kilgen Dulciana and Diapason.16

Builders

Builder response to and participation in the emerging mortuary market varied. The 1920s were a boom time for the industry, and with healthy order books and a substantial backlog, few appear to have directly solicited this business. Table 1 (p. 18) portrays the output of the five largest builders of funeral home organs: Estey, Reuter, Kilgen, Möller and Wicks, who together accounted for over 75 percent of industry production. Möller and Wicks, who booked sales nationwide, built slightly over half (57 percent) of the total. Among other well-known builders of this era, Austin, Casavant and Hinners each built fewer than twenty mortuary organs, like Kilgen mostly in their immediate and neighboring states and provinces, while Hall, Hillgreen-Lane, Kimball, Pilcher and Wangerin-Weickhart each built less than a dozen organs for funeral homes, again mostly nearby.

Eastern builders, notably Skinner and Hook & Hastings, were conspicuously absent from this market. Perhaps they viewed excessive unification, the cornerstone of the mortuary organ, as "low brow," beneath their dignity and carefully cultivated elitist image. More objectively, they were no doubt conscious of the intense price competition, the governing factor in this market, and, otherwise occupied, were not disposed to actively pursue this business, let alone develop a specific product to compete in this market. Austin sold only three organs to funeral homes in the 1920s.

The Great Depression of the 1930s was a time of turmoil in the pipe organ industry. Builders struggled to find work; some survived, others failed. The theater, hotel and private residence markets were gone and the church market severely curtailed. Conversely, the mortuary market "boomed" as evidenced by the number of instruments and percent of total built during this decade as shown in Table 1. All builders welcomed funeral home business including Aeolian-Skinner who, in 1936, built a two-manual instrument with Duo-Art Player, Opus 949, for the Hillcrest Mausoleum in Dallas, Texas.17 The next year they installed one of their Marie Antoinette models (see specification), the largest of several unit series, with a curious opus number 30038, in a mortuary chapel in Acton, Massachusetts.18 With seven ranks, fourteen stops and 427 pipes, this instrument is larger and far less unified than customarily found in mortuary organs.

Builders offered financial and other incentives to clinch a sale in this market (perhaps now driven by competitive emulation)--one which ran counter to the severely depressed national economy. When the Reuter Company signed a contract with the Eylar Funeral Home in Kansas City, Missouri, in August, 1938 for a three-rank organ (21 stops plus chimes) for $1,539, the down payment was only 20 percent, the buyer given a 30-day option to accept the organ and a year's free service19 (see also Wicks below). The importance of the funeral home market in this decade to one and perhaps other builders was underscored by John Sperling, recently retired tonal director of Wicks, who commented that during the 1930s mortuary sales accounted for 25 percent or more of Wicks' output.20

The mortuary pipe organ market essentially ended with World War II; only a few pipe instruments were built for this venue in the postwar era. By the end of the 1940s the electronic organ had gained enough acceptance that its lower cost and smaller space appealed to price-conscious funeral directors. Two recent exceptions are the four-rank unit instrument for the Simminger-Book Funeral Home in Cincinnati, Ohio, built by M. W. Lively & Company in 1988,21 and the 65-rank, four-manual organ built by the Quimby Company for the Skyrose Chapel at Rose Hills Memorial Park in Whittier, California in 1997.22

Wicks

The Wicks Company, founded in 1906 in Highland, Illinois, was the preeminent builder in the mortuary market when measured by the number of instruments produced and the geographical scope of their installations (see Table 1). It is a tribute to the enterprising spirit of this firm that they capitalized on their strengths in the highly competitive pipe organ business to design and build a series of instruments to meet the budget and space requirements of any venue. Actively soliciting this market, the Wicks brochure read: "A field in which Wicks organs serve with special effectiveness is that of the mortuary chapel and funeral home."23 Direct-Electric® action, championed and patented by Wicks, requires much less space than a pouch windchest, and thus is ideally suited for a cabinet instrument or cramped attic installation. Unification and duplexing, the heart of a mortuary instrument, are easily obtained in this individual valve chest. The Wicks business philosophy of being the low cost supplier was a major factor in the intense price competition in this market as were, no doubt, the liberal payment terms, particularly in the 1930s. They largely explain Wicks' notable success in coast to coast sales. For the Drummond instrument in 1937, a Sonatina model plus Vox Humana and chimes (see photo p. 17), priced at $1790.00 less $100 for the former organ, the terms were ten percent down, 30 percent upon installation, and the balance (60 percent) in fourteen equal monthly payments of $70.00 plus interest (not specified).24

Direct-Electric® was the mechanical foundation of the Wicks organ and was emphasized in their mortuary sales publicity. "The mood of mourners and their friends is met by taste in appearance and rich beauty of sound. Direct-Electric® action gives unvarying response to the organist's genius--a quality of dependability under all conditions of temperature and humidity. This exclusive Wicks feature provides a great saving in up-keep for an instrument in frequent daily use. There will be no embarrassing moment in a service by reason of a split leather or membrane, because the Wicks Direct-Electric® control makes no use of these obsolete materials. Swift electric application to every call of the performer brings magic response."25

The prospective Wicks buyer could choose from nine named models, graduated in size and price, with either attached or detached console and optional player attachment. The series began with the Miniature (see box p. 16), a two-manual instrument and the smallest one built, measuring five feet three inches wide, four feet eleven inches deep including console, and five feet six inches high. The 16' octave of the stopped flute was free reeds, and the bottom octave of the Salicional was borrowed from the flute. The Sonata, also a two-rank specification, had pipes in the pedal instead of free reeds and a full compass Salicional. Three-rank instruments included the Symphony, Concerto, Fuga and Fuga DeLuxe. The Rhapsody was a four rank model. The third and fourth ranks were the Open Diapason and Aeoline, the latter a small scale (almost pencil) string chosen, no doubt, for windchest space economy. Wicks' low cost profile explains the absence of the Vox Humana and other reeds in their standard mortuary stoplists, although the Vox Humana and Chimes would be supplied when requested. Reeds require significantly more man-hours to build and to voice not to mention required maintenance with their temperamental tuning and troublesome sensitivity to neglect.

Recognizing the importance of visual as well as tonal ambience in the quality of the funeral setting, Wicks wrote: "The installation of a Wicks in your chapel will be tailored to your individual situation in design, location, size and coloring."26 In addition to the choices among tonal resources and cabinet dimensions, the buyer could select from Gothic, Roman and General grills. Wicks developed a user friendly device called an Automatic Pedal Accompaniment wherein the bass note of a chord on a manual plays the 16' Bourdon pipe in the Pedal and thus "it is impossible to play the incorrect pedal note if the manuals are properly played,"27 no doubt an important feature for pianists turned organists. The development of standardized models for sale to mortuaries continued into the early 1940s when one-manual, three-rank organs were built in groups of five. Ten groups were built.28

Summary

The mortuary pipe organ occupies a small niche in the pantheon of the King of Instruments. In the history of organbuilding, its development is a further illustration of the fundamentals of market segments and the demand for keyboard music in a specific institutional setting in the twentieth century. It is another example of the broad sweep of the pipe organ and keyboard music in American culture and western civilization, and a testimony to the eloquence of organ music in the funeral service. The American organbuilding industry, long known for its mechanical and tonal innovation, produced an instrument that met the stringent tonal, space and cost requirements of funeral homes so successfully that it displaced the reed organ and piano, leading to the sale of several hundred instruments to funeral homes. Together with other small organs they contributed significantly to builder survival in the dark days of the Great Depression.

For research assistance and critical comments on earlier drafts of this paper the author gratefully acknowledges: Gordon Auchincloss, E. A. Boadway, Jerry Dawson, Barbara George, Brent Johnson, Richard Kichline, Allen Kinzey, Larry Leonard, David Lewis, Charles McManis, George Nelson, Albert Neutel, Michael Quimby, Dorothy Schaake, Elizabeth Schmitt, Jack Sievert, John Sperling, Georg Steinmeyer, Robert Vaughan, and R. E. Wagner.

Wicks Miniature

Analysis

8' Flute 85 pipes (1-85)

8' Salicional 61 pipes (13-73)

16' Sub Bass 12 reeds (1-12, free reeds)

Console attached, Tremolo, Crescendo Pedal, Swell Pedal

Organ Space:  5 feet 6 inches high, 5 feet 3 inches wide, 4 feet 11 inches deep including console

2 ranks, 18 speaking stops, 146 pipes

GREAT ORGAN

16' Bourdon T. C.

8' Flute

8' Salicional

4' Flute d'Amour

4' Violina

2' Piccolo

SWELL ORGAN

16' Bourdon T.C.

8' Stopped Flute

8' Viola

8' Quintadena (Syn)

4' Flute

4' Violina

22/3' Nazard

8' Oboe (syn)

PEDAL ORGAN

16' Sub Bass

8' Gedeckt

4' Flute

4' Violina

Wicks Rhapsody

Analysis

8' Open Diapason 61 pipes (1-61)

8' Flute 85 pipes (1-85)

8' Salicional 73 pipes (1-73)

8' Aeoline 61 pipes (1-61)

16' Bourdon 12 pipes (1-12)

Console attached or detached, Tremolo, Crescendo Pedal, Swell Pedal, Automatic Pedal Accompaniment. This model sometimes included a switch wired for 20 chimes starting at 4' A (note 22 on the keyboard).

Organ Space (detached console): 8 feet 10 inches high, 7 feet 4 inches wide, 4 feet 6 inches deep

4 ranks, 28 speaking stops, 292 pipes

GREAT ORGAN

16' Bourdon

16' Contra Viol T. C.

8' Open Diapason

8' Flute

8' Salicional

8' Aeoline

4' Flute d'Amour

4' Violina

22/3' Twelfth

2' Piccolo

Blank Tablet (for future addition of chimes)

SWELL ORGAN

16' Bourdon

16' Contra Viol T. C.

8' Open Diapason

8' Stopped Diapason

8' Viola

8' Aeoline

8' Quintadena (Syn)

4' Flute

4' Violina

22/3' Nazard

2' Piccolo

8' Oboe (syn)

Blank Tablet

PEDAL ORGAN

16' Bourdon

8' Open Diapason

8' Gedeckt

8' Cello

8' Aeoline

4' Flute

First Congregational Church, Los Angeles, January 12-16, 2001

"Despite the nay-sayers, the organ is very much alive and we're going to keep it that way." With that hopeful remark, Fred Swann opened the third annual Organ Alive! conference at First Congregational Church of Los Angeles. Swann started this conference when he assumed the position of organist at the church three years ago, in response to a request from the church leaders for more prominence for the organ. The previous year's conference in January 2000 had been a retrospective of the organ in the 20th century. This year focused on the future of the organ and young emerging talents who will help keep the organ profession vital, hence the subtitle, "The Organ in the 21st century--Quo vadis?"

First Congregational Church of Los Angeles, founded in 1867, is the oldest Protestant church in continuous service in Los Angeles. It is built in gothic style of reinforced concrete, with a square tower rising to a height of 157 feet. The church is a large multi-storied facility--157,000 square feet--with fellowship

/dining hall, chapel, meeting rooms, parlors, and lovely courtyards, providing a very pleasant atmosphere and ample space for the conference events. Thanks to Swann's planning and music administrator Kathie Freeman's organizational wizardry, the conference was well-planned and organized. An army of volunteers from the church gave up their weekend to serve as ushers, set tables, provide refreshments, drive the shuttle bus, give directions, and see that visitors were comfortable. 175 people from 21 states and three  foreign countries were registered for the conference (the original registration limit was 120, they increased it to 175 and still had to turn 63 people away).

After formally opening the conference, Fred Swann asked everyone to stand and launched into a "name that tune" game. He played very brief excerpts from organ literature, starting with the opening of the Bach D-minor Toccata and getting progressively more difficult. When you couldn't identify one, you had to sit down. There were prizes for the winners--great fun for all. The organ in Shatto chapel--34 stops, including seven digital voices installed by Robert Walker--proved able to suggest the characteristic sounds to help us identify the pieces from hearing only a few notes.

The Great Organs

"Like Zephyrus, Eurus, Boreas and Notus, the four winds of classical antiquity, the quartet of organs at historic First Congregational Church are awesome to contemplate, even when calm in the stillness of their vaulted home. From the gossamer evanescence of their lightest stops to the redwood-strength and majesty of their full fury unleashed, they are positively mind-altering in power and heart-stopping in passion." (--Peter Rutenberg, in the program notes for Double Organ and Chorus concert)

While some readers might be put off by the poetic effusion of Rutenberg's description, the great organs at First Congregational are magnificent indeed. Few places in the world can boast of the musical resources available in these organs. The color, contrast, and spatial distribution of the pipes make the sanctuary a very exciting place to hear organ music.

The original 58-rank organ was built in 1932 by Ernest M. Skinner, with William H. Barnes serving as consultant. The organ was greatly enlarged in 1969, but the Skinner hallmark sounds--rich diapasons, lush strings--were unaltered. A large new instrument was built in the rear gallery by the Schlicker Organ Company in 1969, adding great versatility to the church's musical resources with its 17th-century North German character. Schlicker also constructed an Italian-style continuo organ located above the south choir.  In 1984, a state trumpet was added to the chancel organ. In 1990, the church began a renovation and renewal project with three phases: replacement of the consoles with two new consoles built by Möller, new windchests and mechanical repairs for the chancel organ, and, thanks to a substantial gift, the installation of 100 additional ranks to the organs. The two new consoles are the largest drawknob consoles ever built in North America (the movable chancel console was completed shortly before the Möller company closed). All of the organs can be played from either or both of the twin five-manual consoles, one in the chancel, the other in the rear gallery. Richard F. Muench, longtime curator of the organs at First Church, undertook the second and third parts of the work until his death in 1992. William Zeiller, present organ curator, continued the project. The present renovations to the Great Organs will make them collectively one of the largest musical instruments ever built, and one of the largest and most complete organs in any church in the world. When the restoration work in progress is completed, the Great Organs will consist of more than 346 ranks, 265 stops, 233 voices, and 20,000 pipes.

Sunday morning worship

I was eager to attend the Sunday service at 11:00 am, looking forward to observing a master service player in action. I tend to dislike services put together solely to demonstrate repertoire, etc., for conference attendees (though enjoyable, they always have an ersatz feel), so I was glad to be attending a regular Sunday service at First Congregational. Upon entering the narthex, I was greeted by ushers in morning coats, and took my place to listen to Swann's extended prelude--Chorale from Symphony II, Vierne;  Choralfantasy "How Brightly Shines the Morning Star", Buxtehude; Came Three Holy Kings, Glière; and The Children of God, Messiaen. People listened in silence. Attendance was sparse, but those there exhibited enthusiasm. I looked and listened with admiration as Swann played the hymns from memory and skillfully accompanied the conference choir and the First Congregational choir.

Concerts and recitals

Sunday afternoon featured a concert given by the Los Angeles Master Chorale. The program included Kodály's Missa Brevis, Laudes Organi, and Vierne's Messe Solennelle, with organists Fred Swann and Philip Allen Smith. As concert time approached, the sanctuary was filled to capacity--people were standing in the aisles. The 60-voice Los Angeles Master Chorale, under the direction of Paul Salamunovich, is marvelous. Their sound is a seamless and rich straight tone, the altos and basses particularly strong, never outshone by the tenors and sopranos. Fred Swann knew when to keep the organ just behind the choir, and when to let it be at least equal, skillfully using the Skinner organ sounds to blend wonderfully with the voices. Kodály's festive "Laudes Organi" was premiered by Swann at the national AGO convention in Atlanta in 1966.

The Vierne "Messe Solennelle" was handled skillfully by Philip Allen Smith at the gallery organ and Swann at the chancel console. It was a treat to hear this work in an environment that shares important characteristics with the one for which it was conceived. Parry's "I Was Glad" was a thrilling close to an outstanding concert, rewarded with thunderous, extended applause.

The evening before the conference officially began, participants were invited to attend a keyboard tribute to Fred Bock at the First Presbyterian Church of Bel Air. The concert featured organists and pianists playing repertoire from two collections--"Encore, Encore" and "Bock's Best Friends," both published by Fred Bock Music Company--honoring the memory of Fred Bock, composer, music publisher, and former organist of First Presbyterian of Hollywood.

The organ at First Presbyterian of Bel Air was built by Robert Tall & Associates, blending 60 ranks of pipes salvaged from the previous Casavant organ (destroyed in the Northridge earthquake in 1994) with Rodgers digital voices to create an instrument with 151 ranks and 118 speaking stops. Although the organ's range of sounds is impressive, tuning and blend problems were evident. John West, artist in residence at First Presbyterian of Bel Air, demonstrated his expertise in effectively and tastefully handling the instrument's non-organ sound MIDI voices, while Fred Swann handled the instrument's traditional sounds with elegance in absentia (performing via MIDI playback, having been called to a rehearsal), in his own arrangement of "Great Is Thy Faithfulness." A fabulous Steinway concert grand was given equal time on the program, as pianists Jan Sanborn, Dwight Elrich, Mark Hayes, William Phemister, Michele Murray and Dick Bolks performed some lovely hymn-tune settings, several of which were arranged by the performers. These works are published in the collection "Bock's Best Friends" (Fred Bock Music, catalog number BG0967).

In keeping with the conference theme, two young artists were featured in recitals--Felix Hell and Svetlana Fiakhretdinova. The programs were well attended, the audience nearly filling the main floor of the 1000-seat sanctuary.

Felix Hell, 15-year-old organ prodigy, exudes a natural musicality and a palpable eagerness to perform. Dwarfed by the monster five-manual console, from the first notes of his performance he took command. His Bach, Buxtehude and Mendelssohn were elegantly expressive: he lingered over cadential harmonies and exuberantly freed the fantasy sections. His Bach D-major Prelude and Fugue was heroic. The fiendish Schlafes Brüder, his signature piece, sizzled, Felix negotiating its fistfuls of notes with aplomb. Felix hasn't quite grown into the expansive legato style of the Franck B-minor Choral, which also suffered from ineffective registration (though limited practice time while on tour might have been a factor). The Adagio from Widor's fifth sounded hurried, but he romped through the famous Toccata with ease. His encore was the Final from Vierne's Symphony I, and the second encore a repeat of "Schlafes Bruder."

Svetlana Fiakhretdinova, native of Moscow, Russia, was a regional winner in the AGO Young Artists Competition and is a student of John Weaver at the Curtis Institute. She played her program from memory, opening with Guillou's Toccata, demonstrating a very quiet technique. Her Vierne Adagio showed a good sense of the long lines in French music, and the stops of the Skinner organ sang warmly. Her Bach Trio Sonata, though rhythmically supple, was hindered by memory lapses, but she hit her stride with the Duruflé Suite. The Prelude flowed well and rumbled satisfyingly, the Sicilienne bubbled along gracefully at an impressive tempo, and the Toccata was electrifying yet solidly under control.

Noon organ concerts were offered on Saturday, Monday, and Tuesday by Robert Plimpton, Melody Steed, and Sean O'Neal, performers from the Los Angeles area.

Conference workshops

The conference workshops focused on two main topics--performance and organbuilding. Sessions on improvisation, repertoire, MIDI, the role of the accompanist, and organ maintenance made up the performance-related offerings of the conference.

The Los Angeles AGO Chapter, a sponsor of the Saturday events of the conference, had requested that the conference include workshops on improvisation. Two such workshops were held on Saturday afternoon: "Improvisation for the Advanced" led by Bruce Neswick, and "Improvisation for the Challenged" led by Fred Swann. Since I had heard Bruce Neswick speak before, I attended Fred Swann's session. He distributed a handout--"Basic Improvisation Suggestions for the Doodling/Noodling Challenged," which was full of great advice and guidelines, all demonstrated by Swann. The talk was interspersed with anecdotes from his experiences at Riverside Church and the Crystal Cathedral. Mark Thallender, associate organist at the Crystal Cathedral, was coaxed to the bench to demonstrate as well. These workshops were followed by an improvisation recital by Bruce Neswick.

Craig Phillips

If you haven't played anything written by Craig Phillips, call your music supplier. His works have a modern sound with somewhat modal harmony, are rhythmically interesting, and are very appealing to the listener. His oeuvre consists of organ solo and choral works as well as a smattering of works for organ with instruments and various instrumental ensembles. Craig Phillips serves as music associate at All Saints' Episcopal Church in Beverly Hills. He's a fine organist and demonstrated several works based on hymn tunes, including Torah Song, a well-crafted piece based on a tune from the Hymnal 1982. His yet unpublished Pastorale for Bassoon and Organ was lovely, and beautifully played by a bassoonist from his church. He commented that organ repertoire is inextricably linked to the development of the instrument, tied to the church, and for utilitarian purposes, with many works associated with specific instruments and churches. His influences are Buxtehude, Mendelssohn, Franck, Widor and Messiaen, and he views his work as part of a well-established continuum.

Thomas Somerville

Thomas Somerville, director of music at First Congregational, gave a workshop titled "What a Choral Director Expects of an Organist." Far from being a dry, didactic "how-to" session, Somerville's workshop was inspiring and well-planned. His affable nature and obvious respect for his colleagues communicated as much as his outline and remarks. He stressed the importance of communication--about the music and about working together. He distributed a sample of the detailed music schedule he prepares, relating how he discusses accompaniments and plans with Fred Swann and other staff members.

Somerville defines our purpose as church musicians as follows: "to point to, and glorify God as the author of goodness, the creator of beauty, the giver of artistic sensibility and talent, and focus of adoration and praise." He shared five points towards achieving our purpose as musicians in the church: choose music that embodies our purpose, prepare to perform the music to the best of our ability, commit to a musical partnership with all who will rehearse and perform the music with us, maintain an attitude of respect for all who will hear the music, do this with joy insofar as possible. Fred Swann concurrently gave a workshop on designing recital programs. A lively discussion had arisen at the end of Somerville's lecture, and Swann, having finished his workshop, poked his head in the door to tease Somerville about going a few minutes over time.

Robert Noehren

Having been an avid reader of his work and played his instruments, I was thrilled to have the opportunity to hear Robert Noehren speak after dinner on Saturday evening. This elder statesman of the organ world offered a new perspective on listening to music, noting that when you're ninety years old, you definitely live one day at a time. He asked himself two questions: "Do I listen to music simply for the pleasure of it?" "Have I missed that in my profession?" He realized he had been guilty of not truly listening to music. He believes you can't truly listen to music and do anything else, so now he sets aside time each day just to listen--behaving like an amateur, listening with curiosity. This practice has brought music to him in a refreshing new way and has virtually changed his outlook on music. Each morning he looks forward to his listening time.

He detailed some of the repertoire he listens to, and some of his experiences as performer and organbuilder, and made a parallel with food. He wants to make eating an art, to take great pleasure in it. In closing, he recommended choosing only music that you like, playing everything beautifully, and taking pleasure in doing things as well as you can. Live your life with a sense of artistic purpose. Sound advice for a world of people rushing around, often too busy to savor the substance of life. (See the text of Noehren's lecture in this issue, pages 15-16.)

Organbuilding workshops

Organbuilding workshops featured presentations by several prominent personalities from the organ world. John Wilson, organ curator at the Crystal Cathedral, gave a workshop on organ maintenance, offering advice on how the organist can help organ technicians, and what the organist should not do. He shared some anecdotes about the challenges of keeping the Crystal Cathedral organ in tune. Meanwhile, Robert Tall of Robert Tall & Associates, Inc.--a company that builds pipe and digital organs--gave a workshop, "The Magic of MIDI," demonstrating with equipment brought in for the workshop.

Manuel Rosales

Anticipation was in the air as Manuel Rosales took the podium on Monday afternoon, the audience eager to hear what this outspoken organbuilder had to say. Rosales feels it unwise to try to predict the organ's future, but prefers to look back and synthesize the ideas of the past to create something new. He seeks an organ design that allows a vast range of music to be played, not necessarily authentically, but convincingly, allowing performers to bring out the best in their own playing. In the 20th century, much of what the 19th century developed was discarded; the 21st century is now reversing that. He calls this idea the "universal" organ, citing examples from his opus list, pointing out the "restoration of the 8¢ principal in each division," something not common in tracker organs built in the second half of the 20th century.

Two of his latest projects are of particular interest--the organs for Disney Hall and the Catholic Cathedral, both in Los Angeles. The Cathedral organ will be housed in a new building, with a sanctuary seating 3500. The instrument will be built by Lynn Dobson (with electric action and a movable console), with Rosales as the consultant, overseeing the voicing of the instrument. He described the Disney Hall organ as a further development of his "universal organ" ideas. (See the article, "A Brief History of the Walt Disney Concert Hall Organ Project," by Manuel Rosales, in the July issue, pp. 12-13.) For this project, he will be collaborating with Glatter-Götz Orgelbau, a firm he has worked successfully with on two other organs. G-G is building the pipes and other components, while Rosales is overseeing the voicing. The organ's tonal design (4M, 72 stops, 107 ranks) is a traditional three-manual concept, but very grand. He described the organ's 4th manual division, the Llamarada, as "Spanish on steroids," including the Llamada (Spanish for bugle call) and Trompeta de Los Angeles, stops that are "spicy as a chili pepper." The organ will be mainly tracker action, but the big bass pipes and the Llamarada division will be on electric action, a necessity, Rosales says, in large tracker instruments. In fact, the entire organ will have redundant electric action, and a second, movable console will be provided to help the organist hear and be seen. The organ's façade was greatly influenced by the architect Frank Gehry (designer of the concert hall complex), and has been the subject of much discussion. About the design, Rosales commented, "It's something you'll never forget and people will have an opinion about it. However, its unusual design will incite people's curiosity and they'll want to hear it!"

Jeff Dexter

Jeff Dexter is tonal director of Schantz Organ Company, probably the youngest person in such a position in American organbuilding, and an organist himself. Dexter's lecture, "A Look Beyond the Stoplist," dealt with unraveling the intricacies of creating a stoplist and what goes into making it a reality. Dexter excels at presenting technical information in easily digestible form, with a personable style. His purpose was to illuminate what the stoplist reveals: the musical intent of the builder, particular musical goals, desires of the client, and a link to the past. He outlined the building blocks of tonal design: scaling (historical practice and empirical knowledge) and pipe construction (materials appropriate for desired sound), and reliable mechanism so the vision can succeed. He described tonal finishing as the ultimate realization of the tonal design, molding the sound and polishing it.

Panel discussion

Given the framework questions and the organbuilders involved, the panel discussion promised to be interesting. The discussion questions included: Is the pipe organ doomed? What are the trends? What can we do to keep it alive? What "style" will dominate? Fred Swann opened the session by saying, "There's an audience for every type of organ. The main criterion is can you make music on it?" He had invited four organbuilders representing four schools of thought to be on the panel: Gene Bedient--tracker; Jack Bethards--Romantic/symphonic, electro-pneumatic; Jeff Dexter of Schantz--tried and true middle of the road; Robert Walker--digital sounds. Each builder was invited to make an opening statement about his own work and point of view. Excerpts follow.

Gene Bedient: We at Bedient believe first and foremost in creating beautiful, acoustical sounds made by organ pipes. I'm constantly struck these days by the amount of knowledge there is in the organbuilding world--knowledge of types of sounds, of different national styles. My interest is in how we combine those exceptional sounds--and that does not mean only sounds from 16th-century Italy, but everything I've learned abroad and in this country from the early history of the organ through the present. American culture is diverse and has many facets, but the pipe organ is not inherent in our culture like it is in some cultures. It's important that we as organists, organbuilders and organ-lovers engender enthusiasm in the pipe organ among the rest of society.

Jack Bethards, Schoenstein: Our tonal philosophy is based on the romantic or symphonic tradition and it's our goal to try to carry forward this tradition into the modern age by increasing the musical expressiveness of the pipe organ through two main means--increasing its dynamic range and the range of tonal colors. This type of instrument has a solid place in the church because it is so suited to the role of accompaniment and playing a wide variety of repertoire--things that all churches want and need. It is a very musically flexible style.

I see an extremely bright future for the pipe organ in terms of quality and variety. I give a lot of credit for this to sources that may seem surprising. First,  the electronic organ. The electronic organ has now progressed to the point where pipe organ builders do not have to try to satisfy every need, every budget. It leaves pipe organ builders free to concentrate on highly specialized work for discriminating clients who really love the pipe organ. In a way, that is a real blessing. Second is the tracker organ revival. The organ reform movements have been a great boon to the whole organbuilding world in two ways. One, bringing back the idea of thorough research into organbuilding, developing knowledge of what went on before. Another, the interest in fine hand-craftsmanship. Now what we are seeing is a variety of organbuilders working in all sorts of fields, but most of them working for high quality in both mechanical and musical matters.

What about the quantity of organs being built? This is another story, and I'm very concerned about it. The real problem is the music that's being played on the organ. I would classify the music by type and quality. There is music that is organistic and music that is not organistic. What I see creeping into the church is music that is primarily based on rhythm with vanilla harmonic structure. This is a serious problem for those of us who love the great choral and organ tradition. We're being inundated with cheaply-constructed, terrible pop music. I'm concerned that we're not doing enough both as builders and players and as educators to fight this trend of cheapness. We must not back down on standards. We're not in a relativistic world. There are good things and bad things and we need to stand up and fight for the good.

Jeff Dexter, tonal director, Schantz: It was said of our firm by a very distinguished colleague of mine that the Schantz organ company has the distinct quality of building ordinary church organs. While I'm not sure that this colleague meant that as a compliment, we take that as a very, very high compliment. We unapologetically build church organs; 95% of our business is associated with building church organs. I would wholeheartedly echo the sentiments of Mr. Bethards about the quality of church music and how important that is, and how important it is that organbuilders, organists, choirmasters, and leaders of church music make sure that the quality of the music is the absolute best. We need to get young people involved in this art form. We have to be tireless in our advocacy of getting young students involved and interested in what we do and what we build.

One of the things that we're going to see in the early part of the 21st century is something that really has been evolving over the past several decades--an actual American organbuilding school, much like we think of Germanic or French or Spanish schools. I think we're going to see more and more coalescing of that which is "American," just as Willis sounds English or Cavaillé-Coll sounds French.

As organbuilders, whatever discipline we find ourselves in, I believe there is room for everybody at this table in terms of American organbuilding. There are some basic tenets that we could all agree to. First, we have to have organs that are accessible in a variety of ways. They have to be easy to play in the sense that they must be approachable. They must not put off people. They must be flexible in their ability to perform a wide variety of literature, and above all, they must be musical. If they're not musical, we've failed on a very basic level.

Robert Walker, Walker Technical Company: I look at things abstractly because I'm centered in the pipe organ business but I'm not really in it. I love the sound of a pipe organ more than anything--nothing is like it. What we're doing is imitation. It's very good and getting better, but not the same. What makes the pipe organ live for hundreds of years? The pipe organ appeals to the senses more than any other instrument. You feel it, you can feel the 32¢ sounds. The overall grandeur of the organ is going to last. You can create various moods with an organ.

One of the worst aspects of reproducing pipe sounds by digital means is that speakers project in a conical fashion, which is fine for reeds but is terrible for flues. A flue pipe is a spherical radiator. One of the reasons electronic reproduction has not been successful is its speaking system. The one thing we really love at our company is to have an enclosure because we can aim speakers in different directions at different surfaces to get all reflective sound; 80-90% of pipe organ sound is reflective energy. And it's the reflective energy that fills the building as opposed to being directed at it. The pipe organ moves the building whereas speakers move the air. So in order for us to reproduce what a pipe is doing, we need a chamber to really be able to move the chamber in addition to the air.

Walker's last comment sparked some questions regarding organs with cases or unencased and straight vs. concave radiating pedal boards. Further discussion dealt with what the aspects of an American sound are and the fight against pop-style church music. The most interesting exchanges dealt with the marriage of digital voices and pipes. The builders were asked to give their thoughts on the matter.

Walker: Digital sounds can be effective if a quality perspective is taken. All aspects must be considered--how do the sound families match? How will they be tuned? How will maintenance be undertaken and synchronized with pipe maintenance? It requires a great deal of custom work.

Bedient:  "This is one situation where divorce is justified." (great laughter from the audience)

Dexter: Schantz uses digital voices for 32¢ pedal stops and percussion sounds, but no manual stops are digital. Schantz was a founding member of the Associated Pipe Organ Builders of America, which has strict guidelines. Schantz never uses a digital sound to substitute for a real rank of pipes. Their philosophy is if it won't fit, don't do it in digital.

Bethards: Schoenstein uses digital percussion sounds and no others. "We are PIPE ORGAN builders." His concerns about the marriage were related to service and maintenance, and the need to find qualified people who can do both. Also, digital sounds tempt people to make additions to organs that shouldn't have additions. Instruments that have unity and balance can be thrown off by being able to add anything. It's a slippery slope.

At this point, Fred Swann quickly raised his hand and said, "Guilty as charged! I've had digital stops added here." But Swann knows how those sounds should be integrated with the instrument, and how to use them effectively, key concepts to grasp when traversing the "slippery slope" of the world of digital sounds.

Thank you, Fred Swann

The future of the Organ Alive! conference is uncertain due to Swann's retirement in May. In fact, the entire First Congregational music staff--Swann, Thomas Somerville and music administrator Kathie Freeman--retired at the same time. Martin Neary will assume the position of director of music at First Congregational. It is hoped that  he will be able to continue to share the great organs and ample facilities of the church as Fred Swann has with the Organ Alive! conferences.

During the conference, many peopled shared anecdotes about Fred Swann, and reminiscences of performances and of his kindnesses. I was amused by the way he often pipes in with a quip of some sort. My favorite was: "More souls have been saved by two notes on the chimes than by all the mixtures in captivity." He often uses humor to get a point across and is self-effacing. He has served the field of church music for sixty years with his excellent musicianship and inviting manner.

Expressing his appreciation for the presence of the many conference attendees, Fred Swann graciously said, "I can't thank you enough if I thank you every time I see you." No Fred, WE can't thank YOU enough if we thank you every time we see you.