Stevens of Marietta: A Forgotten Builder in a Bygone Era

It's Time To Tell the Story

Introduction

My presentation, "The Economics of Pipe Organ Building: It's Time to Tell The Story," is the viewpoint of an economist, not a builder or a musician. It reflects my fervent conviction that organbuilders must be aware of the economic parameters which shape their business. I also strongly believe that builders must communicate the unique dimensions of their age-old craft to their constituents and clientele. This, in my judgment, will contribute to the support so essential for their well-being in the challenging years ahead. My goal was to present some facts and figures for the builders to think about, to discuss with their colleagues, and perhaps to use in presentations to prospective clients. As one builder has remarked: "Organbuilding is an anachronism in the American economy."1

Assumptions

We begin with certain assumptions which are critical to the discussion. First, we call attention to the fact that no two builders are alike. Each builder has his own vision of his enterprise, his product and his market. We also recognize that APOBA is a far more diverse group today that it was thirty years ago when it was comprised primarily of comparatively large firms building non-mechanical instruments.

Second, as an economist, I define organbuilding as an industry. By industry we mean a group of firms and suppliers engaged in building the instrument and its components on an ongoing basis. Organbuilding is categorized by the US Department of Commerce in the Standard Industrial Classification seven digit code 3931-211. In building a one-of-a-kind product, organbuilding differs radically from the traditional view of industry as comprised of a handful of relatively large firms manufacturing automobiles, appliances, pharmaceuticals and computers. Therefore, because of the unique highly individual and artistic nature of organbuilding as an age-old craft, some builders, perhaps particularly small shops, view organbuilding as no more an industry than sculpting, portrait painting, or even piano concertizing.

Third, organbuilding is a business. The firm is subject to business realities and must conduct its affairs in accordance with them. These include balance sheet and income statement guidelines and property and contract requirements. Unfortunately, some builders, perhaps those with what one prominent executive described as a "cavalier" attitude, sometimes don't pay careful attention to these realities. We also assert that organbuilding is subject to broad economic forces which include wage rates in local labor markets and overall market determined prices for materials and components. In addition, organbuilding is critically influenced by the general economic climate of depression and inflation as history so forcefully demonstrates.

Fourth, in economic parlance, the structure of the industry is a quixotic example of two types of competition. Organbuilding is and always has been a highly competitive industry. When measured by the number of firms and ease of entry it is similar to textbook examples of pure and perfect competition. In a survey I made for a paper years ago entitled "The Place of the Small Builder in the American Organ Industry," one builder, Fritz Noack, reported that his capital cost for entering the trade was $200.00.2 Theoretically, any builder can build the same stoplist, pipe scales and casework. In practice, however, sharp differences exist between builders and instruments. Therefore, in the nature of the product, a specification good in which no two instruments are alike, organbuilding is more like a product differentiated oligopoly. Competition reflects many factors: price, windchest action, level of workmanship, prior installations, reputation, endorsements and status seeking by the organist and the buyer.

Fifth, the concept of market segments is useful. Churches, educational institutions, theaters, private dwellings, lodge halls, and funeral homes have been identifiable markets for pipe organs over the years. Each of these markets has its own demand determinants. Membership and giving would be key determinants for the church market. For concert halls and art museums, major private gifts would be all important. The builder has no direct influence on these demand determinants which critically shape the outlook for his business.

Sixth, we acknowledge that some builders don't recognize themselves as part of an industry insofar as there are interests and concerns common to all participants. Macroeconomic demand determinants don't interest them. Nor is the idea of competition, in a broad sense, viewed as particularly relevant to their enterprise. Their clientele wants their instrument, not just an organ. In an analogy, people don't go to a piano recital, they go to hear Andre Watts. This builder's clientele is perhaps most often a individual, not a committee, and quite likely a prominent academic who will make the choice of builder. Most important, funding is taken for granted. It is presumed that the buyer is authorized to pay whatever price is required to obtain the chosen instrument.

This phenomenon reflects the close symbiotic relationship between the instrument, the performer, and his employer. The instrument is what accords status to the organist's church or school and himself, and is the way he obtains recognition among his peers. It is his ego alter. This has always been true and always will be. It was, no doubt, the case with the Hooks, certainly so with Roosevelt, Skinner, Aeolian Skinner and Holtkamp. The role of brand preference among competitively sensitive and socially conscious pipe organ buyers was supremely illustrated with WurliTzer in the theater market and Aeolian in the mansions of the wealthy. Those familiar with my articles in The Diapason know that I have developed and continue to reiterate the theme of invidious comparison and competitive emulation (Thorstein Veblen) as a very real phenomenon in the organ marketplace.

Economics

The salient factor in organbuilding and the one that distinguishes it as an industry from all others is the labor intensive nature of the product. This overriding factor largely explains the postwar history of the industry and will determine its future. We would argue that 80 percent of the value added in building a pipe organ is labor. Value added by manufacture is the difference between the cost of of inputs--raw materials, semifinished components and labor (including fringe benefits)--and the sale price. Industries with sixty percent or more value added by labor are considered labor intensive. Among them are products of the so-called "needle trades"--for example, robes and dressing gowns, 64 percent labor and curtains and draperies, 68 percent labor. For leather gloves and mittens the value added by labor is 84 percent. Aircraft and shipbuilding are other obvious examples of very high labor input.3

In contrast, capital intensive and technologically advanced industries, enjoy low labor costs even with high wages and benefits. Examples of low labor cost are: Primary Copper, 18 percent; Electronic Computers, 27 percent; and Household Appliances, 25 percent.4 The implication of high productivity, high wage industries for organbuilding is that they determine the wage structure of the national as well as the local economy. In a full-employment economy such as ours, organbuilders face enormous pressures to pay competitive wages or face high turnover with the resulting disruptions, delays and cost overruns. The high cost of organbuilding mirrors the labor input and wage rate; when wages go up, costs go up in lock step. The wage pressures of a full employment economy are a direct threat to cost containment in organbuilding.

The availability of low-wage labor explains why the Möller Company in Hagerstown, Maryland was able to operate for decades as America's largest builder. With 350-400 factory workers, Möller shipped at least one complete instrument every working day in the 1920s and again in the 1950s. Hagerstown, out on a shelf in western Maryland, was bypassed by prosperity and suffered for years from relatively high unemployment. Möller, therefore, could obtain all the workers it required at comparatively low wages. Conversely, no organbuilder could have operated in Detroit or Pittsburgh, because they could never have paid the union wages of auto workers and steel workers and remained competitive. 

Organbuilding is similar to the performing arts in the preponderance of labor cost to total cost and the absence of productivity increases. A widely-acclaimed study, Performing Arts: The Economic Dilemma, disclosed that the share of salaries of artistic personnel to total expenditures was 64% for major U.S. orchestras and 72% for the London Symphony Orchestra.5 The principal conclusion of this authoritative work, commissioned by the Twentieth Century Fund and written by Professors Baumol and Bowen of Princeton University, was that the arts operate within the framework of a complex economy. This coupled with the inability to achieve a sustained increase in productivity makes even higher costs an inevitable characteristic of live performance. So it is with organbuilding.

The predominant role of labor input in organbuilding is illustrated in Table 1 where we compare the number of man-hours necessary to fabricate representative components of a pipe organ with those required to manufacture an automobile. For pipe organs, four key components: an 8' Diapason, 61 pipes, voiced, an 8' Trumpet, 61 pipes voiced, a 16' Bourdon, 32 pipes, voiced, and a pitman action windchest of five stops are portrayed. The contrast is indeed striking.

Rising Cost

The second dominant characteristic of organbuilding is the persistent rise in cost over time. This is illustrated for the key components over the last twenty years in Table 2. More important, when we compare the rise in cost of organ components to the producer price index for the whole economy, the increase is greater for organbuilding as shown in Table 3. This argues that in the event inflation reappears in the US economy, the cost of organbuilding will increase at a higher rate than reflected in the producer price indexes.

What are the implications of rising costs for organbuilding? Fifty years ago, in 1948, you could buy a three-rank Möller Artiste for $2975. Today, you could scarcely buy one set of pipes below 4' pitch for this amount of money. Using the church market as a point of reference, will there be a pipe organ industry ten years from now, or twenty years down the road? To answer this question we hark back to our major premise that when church giving is rising in proportion (or greater) to the increase in income generated by a growing economy, the market scarcely blinks at rising pipe organ costs. This relationship underscores the ongoing fact that it isn't the price of an organ that is the primary determinant of demand, but income, i.e., having the funds to buy them.

In 1900 the price of a Hinners tracker organ was about $125 per stop. Recall that with a force of 90 workmen in Pekin, Illinois, Hinners was building three instruments a week. Remember also that per capita real income in agriculture between the Panics of 1897 and 1907 was the highest in history. Farmers paid less for what they bought and got more for what they sold. With their short-term living standard satisfied, they pumped rivers of cash and pledges into the churches who bought Hinners, Barckhoff, Felgemaker and Estey organs. These were four builders who, with standard specifications, capitalized on this huge rural market, what we have called the commodity segment of the market. By the end of the Hinners era, ostensibly the tracker era, this firm counted over three thousand instruments in more than 40 states and in several foreign countries.6

The Electronic Organ

The critical confluence of cost and revenue in the demand for pipe organs is illustrated in the recent history of the electronic organ. Another major premise in this discussion is that the electronic church organ is a substitute for the pipe organ. To verify this hypothesis we obtained the annual sales of the Allen Organ Company for the last twenty years and plotted them against the cost of our key pipe organ components as shown in Figure 1. The results are astounding! An almost perfect fit, a statistician's dream; you could scarcely ask for a closer correlation. The demand for the electronic church organ as a function of the price of a pipe organ illustrates the economist's concept of cross-elasticity of demand. The higher the price of a pipe organ the greater the demand for the electronic substitute. Furthermore, based upon these correlations, we could write a regression equation that says if this relationship holds, for every dollar increase in the price of a pipe organ there will be a certain increase in the demand for the electronic church instrument.

Church Giving

If we accept the premise that the electronic church instrument is a substitute for the pipe organ, we perhaps can argue that the real culprit is the failure of church giving to keep pace with pipe organ costs in recent decades unlike earlier periods. Statistics compiled by empty tomb inc. for 27 Protestant denominations for the period 1968-95 and published in "The State of Church Giving," reveal that church giving has "fallen" dramatically.7 To be sure, in a growing economy per capita personal disposable income has increased as have contributions for congregational finances. However, the percentage of income contributed has declined steadily and the increase in dollar giving is nowhere near the year to year increase in income. Whether measured by the percent of income given in 1968 or the yearly income increase, the amount given for congregational finances would have been $2.5 billion more in 1995 if these percentages had held. Two and a half billion dollars would buy a lot of pipe organs. If we view church giving within the household budget as a concept of market share, we see that the collection plate has taken a back seat to other expenditures: sporting goods, toys, pizza, and travel, among others. John and Sylvia Ronsvalle of empty tomb point out that in 1992, church giving was only 23 percent of total leisure spending. They attribute this to the pervasive hedonistic consumer-driven culture of our time.8

The implications for the church market from the giving levels we have just illustrated would appear to be ominous. If we assume costs will rise and we couple this with the diminishing rate of church giving, we will then reach a point at which, theoretically, the price per stop for a pipe organ will cause the demand to drop off sharply, if not virtually disappear. What is this point? We don't know, but we could be getting close to it. Can we say there is no demand at $30,000 per stop; perhaps not even at $25,000 or $20,000?

Not all builders believe the figures for church giving are relevant to the demand for pipe organs or that projected increases in price per stop will spell the end of the industry. They view the King of Instruments not as a utilitarian device to accompany church services but as an art form akin to a fine painting. Thus a "high end" market will continue to exist because sophisticated, discriminating--and wealthy--individuals will always select the instrument of the ages, in the same spirit in which they build their art collections--without regard to cost. These builders hold that the industry, now numbering many small shops in addition to the few larger builders, has adjusted and stabilized to this level of output, as evidenced by the demise of Möller, a builder for the commodity market which has now been almost totally preempted by the electronic instrument. A good illustration of this new paradigm is the firm of Taylor and Boody in Staunton, Virginia who by choice build only thirty to thirty-five stops per year.9

Pipe Organ Imports

Imported instruments have been a significant part of the American pipe organ scene since WWII. Large instruments by Rieger, Flentrop and Von Beckerath plus smaller ones from a host of other European builders were the cornerstone of the tracker revival in this country. They were often viewed as a status symbol by the organist profession who proclaimed "if it's foreign it's finer." The principal source of offshore instruments today is our northern neighbor Canada. The sensitive issue of Canadian imports, based primarily on the insurmountable cost advantage afforded the Canadian builder by the exchange rate, is not a new one. In February, 1931, Major Fred Oliver, veteran of the Canadian Expeditionary Force in WWI and husband of Marie Casavant, acknowledged before the US Tariff Commission that Canadian-built organs were less expensive than American instruments. He argued that clients bought them because they liked them better than the domestic product. Could they have liked them better because they were less expensive?

For many years organ imports, including those from Canada, were not a problem. American builders were busy with healthy backlogs and the Canadian share of the market was unobtrusive and not growing. Nonetheless the threat was lurking and today, in the author's judgment, it is a major one. Based upon the dollar value and the number of instruments imported from Canada in the past two decades, I, as an economist, view the Canadian competition as a significant threat to the American organ industry. I also feel strongly that the US buyer should be apprised of the implications of a decision to buy a Canadian-built organ.

Foreign trade statistics published by the Bureau of the Census, US Department of Commerce show that in the 1980s Canadian builders exported an average of 43 instruments per year to the US, their primary market, valued at $3.8 million per year and representing two-thirds of total imports. For the eight year period 1990-97, Canadian imports averaged 19 instruments per year valued at $4.2 million per year. In the most recent years the numbers are: 1995, 21 instruments, value $5.2 million, 76 percent of total imports; 1996, 24 instruments, $4.5 million value, 75 percent of all imports; and 1997, 22 instruments, $5.1 million total value representing 70 percent of total foreign-built organs. Table 4 portrays the value of Canadian imports in US dollars, as declared at the point of entry, for the years 1975-97 and the percent of dollar imports accounted for by Canada and Netherlands-Germany. The dollar figure is a better indicator of the import threat than the number of instruments for the same reason that the number of voiced stops is more representative that the number of instruments in that it more accurately reflects industry activity. One instrument of 100 stops is in terms of output larger than eight instruments of ten stops each. These figures understate the impact of Canadian imports which significantly influence the price structure of the organ market, making it difficult for domestic builders to compete, especially for the larger and more prestigious contracts.   

The Canadian import threat exists, primarily perhaps, for the larger firms in non-mechanical action and in situations where a price sensitive committee, as opposed to an individual, often makes the decision. Conversely, some builders, chiefly smaller firms with a guild versus business mentality, do not view Canadian competition as a threat. To them price advantage is not a pivotal factor in choice of builder in situations where the instrument and the builder are highly individualized in the unique and incomparable nature of their work.

The problem results from coupling the 80 percent labor cost of organbuilding with the Canadian dollar which has hovered around 70 cents in recent years and fell to 63.7 cents in August, 1998. If we assume that a representative wage in organbuilding in the US today is $12.00 per hour, for an American builder to compete with the 70 cent Canadian dollar his workers would have to take a pay cut to $8.40 per hour. When committees elect to purchase a Canadian-built organ this is precisely what they are asking the hapless American workers to do. Perhaps committees should ask themselves whether they would be willing to work for $12 an hour, let alone $8.40?  Furthermore, it is unethical and patently unfair for a committee to accept an offer from an American builder to spend hundreds of dollars flying them across the country to see installations, only to lose the contract to a Canadian builder solely on the basis of price.

Keep in mind also that the Canadian market is hermetically sealed against the American builder. Except for one project by Schoenstein, it has been impossible for an American builder to get work in Canada. This is attributed to the cultural protection issue. Canadians are paranoid about the "invasion" of their culture by American media and have taken steps to block American magazine sales and satellite TV programming in direct violation of the rules of the World Trade Organization. One government official hysterically compared stores selling satellite dishes to dope pushers.10 Perhaps if the Canadians are so touchy about their culture we should return the favor and talk about protecting our rich culture in pipe organ building; the legacy of Hilbourne Roosevelt, Ernest Skinner, Donald Harrison and Walter Holtkamp!

The author is not alone in his analysis of the present and future impact of Canadian competition on the outlook for American organbuilding. Erik Olbeter, project director of the prestigious Economic Strategy Institute in Washington, D. C. agrees that US firms cannot indefinitely absorb the exchange rate differential in the labor cost basis of organbuilding. He adds that since no US builders have been able to sell into the Canadian market, this is a powerful argument in support of the domestic firm.11

There are, of course, two sides to every question. Canadian builders enjoy a positive image, a distinguished history and can point to many fine instruments in this country. Therefore, if the client elects to recognize these factors in choosing a builder and to disregard the implications for American builders, that is their business. But at least they ought to be aware of what they are doing!

Predictions

In conclusion, let me turn to my crystal ball, cloudy though it is, and make some observations and predictions about pipe organ building in America in the coming years. Remember that economists can't resist the temptation to forecast; it's a congenital defect in the profession. You are free to disagree with me and I acknowledge that many of you will elect to do so.

First, pipe organs will always be built, and organbuilding activity, in its many forms, will continue indefinitely. The level of output and the composition of the industry is impossible to predict and I wouldn't hazard a guess. Long-established major builders have previous instruments to rebuild, update and relocate. Small tracker shops may build one instrument a year. Builders of all sizes may move into service work to maintain cash flow while awaiting an order for a new instrument or a rebuilding project. If the industry is defined by total employment this will include suppliers and service firms.

Second, it is clear to me as an economist that a reversal of the persistent decline in church giving is critical to the outlook for the industry. As the King of Instruments, the pipe organ must be recognized as a symbol of the broader dimensions of culture throughout the ages, bridging nations and generations, an essential component of religious symbolism vital to the experience of corporate worship, and the object of sacrificial devotion by churchgoers who stand in opposition to the hedonistic consumer-driven culture of our time. Forbes Magazine, highlighting the resurgence of popularity of mechanical watches over quartz watches pointed out: "An unscientific survey of several dozen watch experts produced one common thread: mechanical watches have soul, have workmanship, have intrinsic value that cannot be found in quartz timepieces. It is this fact, and not a Luddite, reactionary longing for the old days, that makes these watches so popular."12 So it is with the pipe organ. Like a diamond, the high cost of a pipe organ is what makes it so distinctive and so valuable.

Third, the perception of an organ today in the eyes of many churchgoers exacerbates the cost problem. The instrument has to be large and, therefore, expensive. A pipe organ must exert a commanding presence in the sanctuary as reflected in the console of a nonmechanical organ, one with three or more manuals and lots of drawknobs, and in the totality of a mechanical instrument. Above all, the sound must project power, majesty and grandeur, as evidenced by the popularity of the 32' pedal reed today.

Fourth, each builder faces a management challenge of how large an operation his market will sustain and the make-or-buy decision with every project. On an emotional level the builder must continually ask himself whether he is a businessman or an artist and how to balance these all too often conflicting interests. Above all, he must resist the temptation to cut prices to stay in business. This is the road to ruin. As they say in the ocean shipping business, those who live by the rate cut die by the rate cut.  Organbuilding must live in the real world of cost and revenue; there are no "sugar daddies" out there willing to put money into a failed pipe organ business because of the romance of it.

Fifth, supplemental electronic components are here to stay, primarily because they are the only way to keep costs down. The danger, and perhaps it is a real one, particularly for small instruments, is that the electronic organ comes to define the pipe organ whereas it must be the other way around. 

Sixth, the Canadian dollar will remain weak for many reasons. Canadian organ imports will perhaps grow and command a greater share of the market for new instruments. In the author's judgment, the current import levels already pose a serious threat to the future of the American industry.

Seventh, the greatest threat to organbuilding in the US, or anywhere, is inflation. I have already suggested that with current levels of church giving there is no market at $30,000 per stop. If our economy were to experience three to five years of double-digit inflation, organbuilding on a sustained basis would largely disappear. Church contributions would continue to erode as our aging populace struggled to make ends meet, the demand for social services by churches would rise, and the electronic organ would preempt the church market. Milton Friedman, the widely-quoted economist and celebrated Noble laureate told Forbes Magazine in December, 1997 that he expects a period of much higher inflation sometime in the next ten to twelve years. Let's hope Friedman is wrong.13

Notes

                        1.                  Telephone interview with George Taylor, March 15, 1998.

                        2.                  Coleberd, Robert E. Jr., "The Place of the Small Builder in the American Organ Industry," The Diapason,Vol. 57, No. 12, November, 1966, p. 45.

                        3.                  1995 annual survey of manufactures, US Department of Commerce, Economics and Statistics, Bureau of the Census, Table 2, Statistics for Industry Groups and Industries: 1995 and 1994, pp. 1-10--1-27.

                        4.                  Ibid.

                        5.                  Baumol, William J. and William G. Bowen, Performing Arts--The Economic Dilemma, Copyright 1966, The Twentieth Century Fund, Inc., First M.I.T. Press Paperback Edition, August, 1968, Second Printing, December, 1977, p. 145.

                        6.                  Coleberd, Robert E. Jr., "Yesterday's Tracker--The Hinners Organ Story," The American Organist, Vol. 43, No. 9, September, 1960, pp. 11-14.

                        7.                  Ronsvalle, John L. and Sylvia Ronsvalle,The State of Church Giving through 1995, Champaign, Illinois, empty tomb inc., December, 1997, passim.

                        8.                  Table 18: "Combined Per Capita Purchase of Selected Items Compared to Composite Per Member Church Giving in Constant 1987 Dollars" in John L. Ronsvalle and Sylvia Ronsvalle, The State of Church Giving through 1994, p. 61.

                        9.                  Taylor, op. cit.

                        10.              Olbeter, Erik R. "Canada's Cultural Hangup," Journal of Commerce, April 3, 1997, p. 6-A. See Also "Cultural Struggle" The Journal of Commerce, July 2, 1997, p. 8-A. Craig Turner, "Canadian Culture? Whatever It Is, They Want To Preserve It," Los Angeles Times, March 30, 1997, Section D, p. 1, 12. Joseph Weber, "Does Canadian Culture Need This Much Protection?," Business Week, June 8, 1998, p. 37.

                        11.              Telephone interview with Erik Olbeter, Economic Strategy Institute, Washington, D.C., June 6, 1997.

                        12.              Powell, Dennis E., "A Glance At Some Of The Timepieces That Made History," Forbes FYI, November, 1997, p. 152.

                        13.              "Milton Friedman at 85," Forbes, December 29, 1997, pp. 52-55.

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

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

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.

Grant Smalley Pipe Organs, Victoria, British Columbia (1984)

Born in Sidney, near Victoria B.C., Grant Smalley has worked as an organbuilder since 1966. He was associated with Gabriel Kney from 1968 to 1979, primarily building tracker-action organs and installing them throughout Canada and the U.S.A. During the last eight of those years he assumed Kney's tuning and maintenance business in addition to his organbuilding duties. He returned to Victoria in 1980 and established his own business four years later, buying out the organ maintenance service of Hugo Spilker, who had done restorations in the area. His associate, Douglas Adams, received formal training in instrumentation and systems technology, and manufacturing engineering technology; in addition to assisting in the construction of the new shop, he is responsible for electrical design, construction, and mechanical work. Beverly Smalley, the wife of Grant Smalley, handles the business and financial operations. All three are active participants in community choral groups.

Grant Smalley has built several small organs: a four-stop positiv organ, mechanical action (1985); a four-stop, portable, continuo organ with 56-note transposing keyboard, mechanical action (1989); and two continuo organs of 31/2 and 41/2 ranks, both with mechanical action (1995, 1997). The major activity, however, is organ restoration, along with regular tuning and routine maintenance work: about 50 organs throughout Vancouver Island and Greater Vancouver. A number of heritage organs in Victoria, including several instruments built by Casavant Frères in the early 1900s, and others by English and American makers, have received extensive overhauls in recent years.

Wooden pipes, most windchests, consoles, and casework are built in the shop; metal pipes are ordered to specifications and voiced there. Other components acquired from suppliers include keyboards, drawknobs, switching systems, and blowers.

Blair Batty & Associates, Simcoe, Ontario (1985)

Blair Batty was born in Simcoe, and as a teenage organ player he acquired an interest in the mechanical workings of organs. His organbuilding career began with the Keates Organ Company, Acton, Ontario, where he learned windchest construction, wiring, tuning, and installation procedures. In 1976 he moved to Europe, where he learned the craft of metal pipemaking with Jacques Stin-

kens, Zeist, Holland, and the art of reed manufacturing with Carl Giesecke & Sohn, Göttingen, West Germany. During that period he travelled extensively throughout Europe to study examples of French, German, and Dutch organbuilding. In 1977 he went to Gloucester, Massachusetts, to join C. B. Fisk as a pipemaker and draftsman, then in 1979 he was invited to head the pipe shop of the Noack Organ Company, Georgetown, Massachusetts. In 1981 he returned to Canada to work for Brunzema Organs, Fergus, Ontario, then returned to Simcoe in 1985 to establish his own firm. Since then he has visited England on several occasions to study the instruments of Willis and Hill.

The company has built three new organs. One is a two-manual, 27-stop instrument of eclectic design incorporating Schnitger-inspired choruses, a French-character trumpet, and Dutch/French-style Swell mutations, with console-equipped MIDI (1991). Another is a two-manual, 19-stop instrument of British-inspired design in which the basic choruses follow William Hill, but includes a Schnitger-style trumpet, a cornet and mutations of classical French design, and string stops scaled and voiced on Cavaillé-Coll principles (1993). A four-rank box organ was built for a private customer.

The company specializes in restoring and rebuilding older organs, employing the techniques and materials of the original builder as far as possible, and provides tuning and maintenance service to about 100 churches annually throughout southwestern Ontario. Most of the components of organs are produced in the factory: Pitman and slider windchests, bellows, rollerboards, tremulants, keyboards and pedalboards, and consoles. Pipes, both wooden and metal (including reeds), are generally made on the premises; the metal pipeshop and foundry section has a 12-foot, polished granite casting table, one of the few in Canada. Blowers and electrical combination and switching actions are acquired from external suppliers. The firm also provides services, parts, and pipes to other builders and tuners. A large reference library of historical and current organ design data, including pipe scalings of hundreds of historic organs, is maintained. A computer-assisted design (CAD) system is used. The firm had three full-time employees and several part-time helpers in 1998.

Gober Organs, Toronto, Ontario (1985)

Halbert Gober was born in Austin, Texas, and began his organbuilding career with Otto Hofmann (1969-1972), an organbuilder in Austin known as an early proponent of the tracker revival. Following university studies in liberal arts and architecture, he lived in Germany from 1972 to 1980. During the first four years he studied music, architecture, and organbuilding; in the remaining years he was employed with various organbuilders, including Rensch in Lauffen-am-Neckar (1972); Jann (1977-1980), where he completed his formal apprenticeship in 1979; and Felsberg in Chur, Switzerland. Following his move to Canada in 1981 he was employed as a voicer with Karl Wilhelm until 1985, before opening his own shop in the Montréal area in that year. From there he served as a freelance voicer and pipemaker for several organbuilders in North America and Europe.

He established his own shop in Toronto in 1991, where he commenced building tracker-action organs. Output to date amounts to six two-manual instruments of medium or small size; the most recent of these is a five-stop studio organ for the University of Notre Dame, South Bend, Indiana. Rebuilds and tonal revision projects are also undertaken. His philosophy is to draw on the full heritage of historical organbuilding in the construction of cohesive and logical instruments, with equal priority to dependability and musicality.

Wooden pipes, along with metal pipes made of cast and hammered lead, are manufactured on the premises. Reed pipes, including shallots, are also made in the shop. Action parts are from Germany. There were three employees in 1998. 

Pole & Kingham, Chatham, Ontario (1985)

 Donald Pole and Ron Kingham founded their company in 1979 and then incorporated in 1985, when the construction of complete new organs commenced. Earlier, between 1966 and 1968, Ron Kingham had been an employee of John Bright, a co-founder with Gabriel Kney of the Kney & Bright Organ Company in 1955; he built a house organ under John Bright's supervision. In the first five years of their association, the partners' work was limited to tuning, repairs, cleaning, and general maintenance.

Since 1985 they have built and installed seven new electrical-action instruments (two incorporating some older parts), mostly of medium-size, all in Ontario churches; two other instruments were provided to churches in Michigan, U.S.A. While their instruments are designed to meet both liturgical and performance needs, recent organs have a Romantic bias, and the Symphonic era is recalled in a new, three-manual, 36-stop instrument (the largest to date), with its six-rank String Organ division, installed in Holy Trinity Anglican Church, in Chatham, Ontario, in 1997. Other services include restoration of both tracker- and pneumatic-action organs, rebuilding with solid-state switching, enlargement, and tonal additions, along with general maintenance and tuning.

Wooden pipes (Bourdon, Chimney Flute, Gedeckt, and Doppelflute--the latter scaled after a fine Karn stop), windchests and reservoirs, and consoles are made in the shop; metal pipes are obtained from suppliers in Canada, U.S.A., Germany, and Holland. Five employees worked with the partners in 1998.

Juget-Sinclair, Montréal, Québec (1994)

Denis Juget, a native of the Savoy region of France, received his diploma in fine cabinetmaking in Annency, Haute-Savoy, France, in 1979, then worked as an apprentice with leading organbuilders on both sides of the Atlantic, with whom he acquired skills in all phases of organbuilding: Lucien Simon, Lyon, France (1979-1983); Robert Chauvin, Dax, France (1983-

1985); Wolff & Associés, Laval, Québec, upon his arrival in Canada (1985-1991); Orgelbau Goll, Lucerne, Switzerland (1990-1991); Orgelbau Rohlf, Seitzental, Germany (1992-1994); and Karl Wilhelm, Mont Saint-Hilaire, Québec (1992-1994). Special assignments be-tween 1988 and 1990 involved the restoration, renovation, and voicing of several organs in Austria, Italy, and Spain. His organbuilding enterprise began in 1994 in Saint-Basile-le-Grand, Québec, in a backyard, two-story, former chicken coop, which was converted into a workshop. In the following year he completed a two-manual, 3-stop house organ for a private client.

Following studies in science at McGill University in Montréal, Stephen Sinclair worked first as an apprentice cabinetmaker, then as an apprentice organbuilder with Wolff & Associés (1989-1991). He received practical working experience in general organbuilding and reed-stop restoration with Manufacture d'orgues Franc-comptoise, Courtefontaine, France (1995, 1997); pipemaking with Georges Blaison, France (1996) and N. P. Mander, London, England (1997); and general organbuilding, design, voicing, maintenance, and tuning with Wolff & Associés (1992-1998). He joined Denis Juget as an equal associate in 1998.

The company divides its time between the restoration of historic instruments and the construction of small mechanical-action organs. Since 1995 five two-manual, 3-stop, house organs and one continuo organ have been manufactured; three of the house organs for clients in the United States. Works in progress include two similar house organs for destinations in Québec and Germany, and a two-manual, 10-stop practice organ for the University of Cincinnati, ready in 1999. The house organs incorporate a design by Denis Juget that enables them to be moved relatively easily without breaking down the action.

All parts are made in-house, including wooden and metal pipes, wind chests, bellows, rollerboards, keyboards and pedalboards, drawknobs, and casework (hand-planed in solid wood, using mortise-and-tenon construction). Blowers are purchased from Laukhuff, Germany. Several part-time workers assist in various stages of production and installation. Following relocation in late 1998 to an industrial space with 30-foot cathedral ceilings in Montréal, the associates intend to make the leap from building practice instruments to full-fledged church organs in the near future.

D. Leslie Smith, Fergus, Ontario (1996)

Leslie Smith grew up in southern Alberta, and acquired his interest in music at an early age through involvement in church choirs and piano lessons. He developed an early fascination with organ building and enrolled in organ performance studies at the University of Calgary after completing high school. Using practical skills acquired from his father, who was a carpenter and mechanic, he completed several kits for harpsichords and clavichords, and established an association with a local organ serviceman who introduced him to the techniques of maintaining and tuning electro-pneumatic instruments. In 1973 he moved to London, Ontario, to continue his organ studies at the University of Western Ontario. While in that city, he became acquainted with Gabriel Kney, in whose organbuilding shop he worked on a part-time basis for several years. In 1982 he joined Brunzema Organs in Fergus, Ontario, where he remained for 10 years as a journeyman organbuilder. After the death of Gerhard Brunzema in 1992 and the closing of his organbuilding operation, Leslie Smith worked as an independent contractor in pipemaking and voicing on a number of projects in Canada and the United States. His first organ, a two-manual, 11-stop studio organ was undertaken in 1982 as a part-time project while working with Gerhard Brunzema; it was completed in 1992.

In 1996 he established his new workshop on part of the former Brunzema premises. In the same year he produced his first commission, a one-manual, 6-stop, mechanical-action organ, for a cemetery chapel in Montréal. A similar organ, but without pedals, was supplied to a church in Kansas City, Missouri. Although eclectic and innovative in terms of tonal and visual design, Leslie Smith's approach is inspired by the work of mid-19th-century Canadian and American firms such as S. R. Warren of Montréal and Hook & Hastings of Boston, favoring generous scaling and higher pressures.

Wooden pipes for these two instruments were made in-house, but metal pipes were supplied by F. J. Rogers, Leeds, England. Blowers came from Laukhuff, Germany. Keyboards, and key and stop action were fabricated in the shop. Stops are divided into bass and treble, using a special form of drawstop mechanism developed by the builder. Cases are made from common hardwoods, using traditional construction techniques.

Maintenance work to organs of all makes and construction in Ontario and Québec comprises a significant part of his activity; in 1996 he was appointed curator of the largest pipe organ in Montréal, a four-manual, 86-stop Casavant instrument (installed in 1932, rebuilt in 1992 by another firm) at the Church of St. Andrew and St. Paul, and will soon undertake complete rebuilding projects, as well.

The Future of Organbuilding

The status of organbuilding in the 21st century is not easy to predict, given the variety of factors involved. Generalizations about the number of future organ installations are risky; nevertheless, it is interesting to note that, within roughly the last three decades, while the annual production of instruments of all sizes peaked several times in the 1980s, the low periods of the 1970s were again matched in the years since 1994. Whether this recession will continue in the coming years is uncertain, but some recent trends provide clues to a possible future.13

The fact that few new organs have been installed in Canadian locations in recent years is not surprising, for the distinguishing characteristics of the "golden age" of the organ in the early years of the twentieth century--in terms of the erection of new church buildings, the proliferation of organbuilding firms that supplied both churches and motion picture theaters with instruments, and public enthusiasm for organ recitals played by local and touring recitalists--are not likely to be repeated, considering shifting cultural values along with the various musical and other forms of entertainment now available.

Although most organbuilders have confined their operations to meeting only local and regional needs, several Canadian firms have cultivated the international market with apparent success. The services of the Canadian Commercial Corporation, a crown corporation of the Government of Canada that assumes the role of prime contractor and subcontracts all of the contract back to the Canadian firm, are available for companies seeking worldwide clients.

As for the tonal design of new instruments, the uneasy hybrid designs of earlier years largely have been abandoned in preference to the rediscovered qualities of universally admired older instruments of the 17th and 18th centuries, without blindly copying them. Although instruments of neoclassical design, with their historically "authentic" stoplists, are not entirely suitable for the performance of all schools of organ music, they are probably more versatile than the earlier generation of organs for general liturgical and performance purposes. On the other hand, some organbuilders prefer an eclectic approach, a matter that is subject to ongoing debate.14 The recent strong demand for mechanical-action instruments may eventually stabilize, for reasons relating to architecture, economics, changing musical tastes, and a return to the Romantic idiom in repertoire. Purchasers may prefer some of the advantages of nonmechanical instruments, such as the consistent keyboard touch and flexible console location provided by electric action.15

Much of the earlier activity of new organ construction has been redirected to rebuilding and restoring older instruments, some of historical significance. Most Canadian organbuilders engage in this growing activity, which can provide churches with a cost-effective alternative to the purchase of a comparable new instrument. Routine maintenance work is also part of the service provided by many firms, large and small.

Pipe organs have always been expensive, so electronic instruments utilizing highly developed digital technology now provide an economic alternative for church congregations lacking the will or the means to acquire and maintain a pipe organ. The respective merits of pipe organs and electronic instruments have been debated since the latter were first introduced. Nevertheless, there is an obvious answer, based on musical criteria, to the question, Which is preferable: a poorly designed, badly maintained pipe organ, or a high quality electronic instrument? Electronic instruments have a place in locations where pipe organs are out of the question, whether for space or budgetary considerations. They have proved adequate for the liturgical requirements of many small or medium-size churches with limited budgets, and these instruments have provided competition for more costly pipe organs. The increasing acceptance of electronic instruments further diminishes the probability of a significant number of new pipe organ installations in the coming years. On the other hand, educational institutions (those that are not financially beleaguered, if any) and affluent congregations of some churches (not necessarily the largest) undoubtedly will continue to prefer pipe organs for musical, historical, or social reasons, and such instruments can be supplied only by the larger, well-established, organbuilding companies.

The role of the organist is of considerable importance in ensuring a future for organbuilding. If a church considering the purchase of a new organ already has a fully trained organist, this person, working with a musically educated and supportive committee, can influence the decision in favor of a pipe organ in preference to an electronic instrument, providing that a realistic fund-raising objective can be achieved. A church with an adequate pipe organ will seek a highly trained individual to play it, and such organists ordinarily prefer appointments to churches with pipe organs; once hired, their presence encourages the continuation of the pipe organ tradition.

Changes in the liturgical practices of some religious denominations may have a subtle, long-term effect on the future of organbuilding. The emergence in some congregations of youth-segregated services, with their unique liturgical practices that employ guitars or other instruments associated with folk music or religious rock groups, may produce a generation of worshippers unfamiliar with the organ, its musical heritage, and its literature. A broader associated issue is the question of the future of institutionalized religion and its possible decline due to the growth of science, education, and secularization, or its theological transformation into various manifestations of individualistic spiritual development. These possibilities undoubtedly will take many years, perhaps centuries, to resolve.      

Shifts in population characteristics introduce another factor into the question of the future of organbuilding. Some suburban churches located in stable neighborhoods now have congregations comprised largely of aging members living on limited incomes, not offset by significant numbers of younger, fully employed members. If the present job of organ maintenance is difficult for such congregations, even with skilled volunteer labor working under the supervision of a trained organ technician, the acquisition of a new instrument is beyond consideration; in fact, the amalgamation or dispersal of these congregations is the more likely scenario. The inevitable result would be the closing of some church buildings, along with the possible removal or relocation of existing pipe organs. The more affluent churches with a wider spread of ages among their members, and which encourage the full participation of younger members in their musical programs, are the only ones that will escape this fate, thus leaving open the possibility of the purchase of a new organ in the distant future. A related consideration, which provides a cause for optimism, is grounded in the speculation that recent declines in per capita real income may stimulate group activities at the expense of individual life styles, and that churches may again become a center of social as well as spiritual activities. In such contexts the pipe organ, as a cultural, religious, and artistic centerpiece, may serve as a source of pride and inspiration, and as a vehicle for the renewal of congregations.16

Over the longer term, increased public awareness, combined with both formal and informal educational opportunities, may contribute to the sustained vitality of the organ culture generally, including organbuilding. Radio broadcasts of organ recordings, instructive television programs, increased concert programming for organ and other instruments, and the development of audiences for subscription series of organ recitals, would increase knowledge of the organ among the general public. In the educational system, in-service sessions on the organ for school music teachers, the preparation of classroom learning materials for use in regular music instruction courses, and the participation of students in on-site inspection trips and demonstrations would provide practical contexts for raising awareness of the organ at a level that students can understand and enjoy.17 As for organists, competitions or commissions for hymn arrangements, sacred songs, or new compositions for the organ could be fostered on both the regional and national levels by the Royal Canadian College of Organists. These informational and educational programs would contribute to the development and maintenance of an appreciative audience for the organ throughout the coming decades. Such forms of revitalization would ensure the future of the King of Instruments well into the 21st century.

REFERENCES

                        13.              Some of the following material is adapted from the chapter, "The Future of the Organ," in Hartman, The Organ in Manitoba (note 5 above).

                        14.              See Quentin Regestein and Lois Regestein, "The 'Right' Organ," The Diapason, August 1998, 13-16; September 1998, 17-18. Radically opposing points of view debate the legitimacy of a "universal" hybrid organ, one that is perfect for everything.

                        15.              R. E. Colberd, "Pipe Organ Building: the Nineties and Beyond," The Diapason, July 1994, 12.

                        16.              Ibid., 14.

                        17.              For a description of a recent educational event for school children, see Valerie L. Hall, "Meet the King of Instruments: A Successful Workshop Model for Kids," Organ Canada, July 1998, 9.

R. E. Coleberd, an economist and retired petroleum industry executive, writes frequently on the history and economics of pipe organ building. For research input and critical comments on earlier drafts of this paper, the author gratefully acknowledges: Wilson Barry, Larry Chase, David Harris, The Rev. B. B. Edmonds, Dorothy Holden, Ken Holden, Herbert Huestis, Paul Joslin, Alan Laufman, Charles McManis, Albert Neutel, John Norman, Barbara Owen, Robert Reich, Jan Rowland, Jack Sievert, John Speller, Robert Vaughan, and Randall Wagner.

Introduction

Students of pipe organ economics and history are continually fascinated by the wide variety of non-mechanical windchest actions developed by American organbuilders in the last century. These ingenious mechanisms speak to the resourcefulness of enterprising men eager to find an efficient and reliable system to differentiate their product and, thereby, to carve out a niche for themselves and their firm in the highly competitive marketplace for pipe organs. Windchest innovations formed the core of the nonmechanical systems. They would become a defining characteristic of American organbuilding in the first half of the twentieth century and mark its contribution to the evolution of the King of Instruments during this period. Marvels of mechanical ingenuity, they far surpassed developments on the Continent. As James B. Jamison commented: "In mechanisms they excel the Old World product so far as to make comparison unfair."1 Among the most important and far reaching innovations was the electropneumatic pitman action windchest which traces its origins to an obscure nineteenth-century Continental organbuilder, August Gern.

In writing a paper in which I remarked that Ernest M. Skinner had taken the pitman windchest to "Mount Olympus," I recalled a comment years ago by the late Dr. Homer Blanchard that August Gern was the inventor of the pitman action.2 Some years later I verified Blanchard's observation in Audsley's The Art of Organbuilding.3 I was curious about Gern and his system. At the suggestion of Barbara Owen, I phoned Professor Christopher Kent at the University of Reading in the United Kingdom who referred me to his student, Paul Joslin. Paul has researched and written on Gern's tenure in the British Isles. He kindly briefed me on Gern and sent me a copy of Gern's patent which would shed light on this question.4

Windchests

To begin, we need to review briefly the nature of a windchest and the nomenclature of the so-called "individual valve" actions. A windchest is a rectangular wooden box working in tandem with the console as a transfer mechanism, i.e., it transfers wind from the bellows to the pipes enabling them to speak. A stop action and a key action are its two essential components. Differences in the design and operation of these two actions distinguish one system from another and establish the two broad categories of nonmechanical windchest action: ventil and universal.

A ventil chest is distinguished by the fact that the individual stops are not winded unless the stop is on, i.e., pulling the stop knob opens a valve and charges the stop on the chest. Widely used in the early decades of this century, it was closely associated with the novel pull-wire ventil employed by Hillgreen-Lane, was incorporated in Kilgen organs until the firm's demise in 1958, was the mainstay of the Estey Company and was built by Tellers well into the post WWII era. Organ Supply Industries continued to list the ventil windchest in their catalog until 1982.5

A universal windchest is any system in which the wind is under all the stops at all times. The term "universal" is closely associated with the ingenious Austin patented system, in the beginning a large walk-in enclosure located directly under the pipe valve mechanism. Technically, however, a pitman action is also a universal windchest because the wind is always under all the stops. The salient feature of a pitman action is the key and stop action. As Randall Wagner, Organ Supply Industries executive, explains, a pitman action is fundamentally a fluidics mechanism, an x, y switch in which both x for stop and y for key must be "on" for the pipes to speak.6 These switches are, as Jan Rowland points out, relief valves which are activated by a motor, in modern practice a leather disc (formerly with a wooden stem) or flap, akin to a solenoid, whose movement seals or exhausts the key and stop channels.7 In the lexicon of today's computers these switches would be known as an AND gate.

By 1900 the race was on as the transition from tracker to non-mechanical action swept the American organ industry. Ten years later if you did not have a workable windchest you were either out of business (Gratian) or severely handicapped (Hinners). But if you had an efficient and competitive system, it just might be the cornerstone of a long and prosperous tenure in the industry (Austin, Wicks). The universal airchest of the Austin Company, with the familiar decal on the enclosure door, and "Built on the Bennett System" on the nameplate of the Bennett Organ Company instruments, demonstrated that firms were eager to capitalize on their innovations in the rapidly growing market for non-mechanical organs.

The pitman action gradually emerged as the odds-on favorite of American builders and organists, initially because of the overriding influence of Ernest M. Skinner, whose mechanism became the generic term for the system, but also because of its perceived advantages. By the post WWII era it had become dominant. The ventil, aside from the exceptions cited above, virtually disappeared. Skinner's contribution notwithstanding, innovations in windchest and console design and construction are, most likely, the work of individuals and firms over time in several stages of development. One is, therefore, understandably reluctant to attribute a major technological development in organbuilding to one individual. Nonetheless, if we can establish, from an analysis of his patent, that Gern's system functions like a pitman action then we are safe in saying that he is one of the pioneers of this redoubtable mechanism.

August Gern and His System

August Friedrich Herman Gern (1837-1907), a native of Berlin, Germany, was the son of a cabinet maker whose family had lived for several generations in or near Berlin and whose ancestry was traced as far back as 1415 when one Christian Gern was baptized in Zwichau. After acquiring woodworking skills, most likely from his father, Gern obtained organbuilding knowledge, probably from Carl Friedrich Buckholz, although he may have also worked with Sauer, Lang and Diese. In 1860 he migrated to France where he was employee and foreman of the celebrated Aristide Cavaillé-Coll (Buckholz was a pupil of Cavaillé Coll). In 1866, after installing one of the Parisian master's instruments in the Carmelite Church in Kensington in the United Kingdom, Gern opened his own shop in London. He operated from several locations in London and, from 1872 to 1906, at Boundary Road, Notting Hill (the shop building is extant).8

On November 6, 1883 Gern filed a patent application (see diagrams) for "Improvements In Organs And Similar Wind Instruments." He described his invention as a key and stop action channel "designed to simplify the construction and operation of parts . . . and to avoid the loss of wind and objectionable sounds that often result from leakage."9 His reference to loss of wind and objectionable sounds was, perhaps, referring to the Kegellade or cone valve chest, the system then widely used by Ladegast, Sauer and other German builders. Although the key and stop channels, acting as relief valves, were the focal point of his invention, there were other far-reaching implications of his system. One was provision of two sets of relief channels to permit duplexing. Another was the use of chest wind to open the valve. In this respect his mechanism was, theoretically, similar to "Roosevelt" type actions which utilized chest wind as the operating force. Interestingly, and as if to anticipate the future, Gern asserted that "collapsible or bellows-like cells" (i.e., pouches) could also be used.

The following step-by-step analysis of Gern's patent is made with some trepidation and a note of caution. It is very difficult to comprehend the working of up to six valve positions of the mechanism in a single set of diagrams each portraying only one position. Have you ever tried reading Audsley? The diagrams are reproduced courtesy of Robert Vaughan, chief engineer of the Reuter Organ Company, who copied them from Audsley. Ironically, Audsley had discovered an apparent error in the Gern patent diagram regarding the position of the pitman.

Following the diagrams: Figure 1 is the key action. When the center-pivot key A is depressed as the note is played, the lug a on the key tail opens the leather-covered pallet B, exhausting the key channel D. When the key is released, wind from channel E pushes down on pallets C and B, charging key channel D. A closer look suggests that pallets C and B work much like a primary action in a modern pitman windchest.

Figure 2 is the stop action. As shown, the stop is "on" with channel L exhausted through slide G. When the stop is "off" slide G is moved to the right, causing wind from H to recharge channel L.

Figure 3 is the heart of the mechanism. In the Gern system the pitman "motor" is a teeter-totter, hinged in the middle and pivoting up and down at each end, shown as m1, m2. When the key channel is exhausted from Figure 1,  wind from the stop action channel L (the stop is "off") pushes m2 up and m1 down, sealing the exhausted key channel and maintaining wind pressure in cylinder n on piston N. This keeps valve O (shown open in Figure 3) seated securely against the bottom board on which the pipe stands, thus preventing the pipe from speaking.

When the key is "off" and the stop is "on," the position of the teeter-totter pitman is reversed. Then wind from the stop channel L is exhausted and wind from the key channel D pushes m1 up and m2 down, causing key channel wind to maintain pressure under the cylinder and the valve to stay closed.

When both key and stop are "on," i.e., channels exhausted, the pitman motor floats causing wind in the chest to push down on piston N and open valve O, allowing the pipe to speak. Duplexing is accomplished by a dual set of key and stop action channels D1, D2, L1, L2 as shown in Figure 4.

Gern's patent did not immediately become an innovation in the Schumpeterian sense, i.e., the commercial application of an invention, because all evidence indicates that he never used it in his work, nor did anyone else.10 Audsley laments that he has never seen a working model from which to make drawings, adding that although he was acquainted with Gern's instruments he had not examined the inside of the windchests in them.11 Gern most likely was dissuaded from utilizing his system because, in comparison with other mechanisms of the day, it proved impractical and uneconomical to build. Audsley appears to confirm this when he says:  " . . . in our estimation, it is attended by several serious drawbacks, and must, in the manner in which it is fixed in the chest, be somewhat difficult to reach for cleaning or repairs."12

It must be emphasized that Gern did not call his invention a pitman action, a term designated much later and closely associated with the work of Ernest M. Skinner who is credited with further refinements and whose model became the definitive example of the system. The term pitman is not confined to organbuilding: it has been associated in antiquity with such diverse occupations as coal mining and saw milling and in engineering to denote mechanical linkage as in a steam engine or a steering column.13

The Skinner System

The concept of the pitman windchest was revived in 1897 by C. F. Brindley of Sheffield, England in a patent for a pneumatic pouch action which Sumner comments "anticipated the actual pitman action."14 The key to developing the pitman idea into a workable system, as reflected in the Brindley patent, was the pouch valve as opposed to Gern's piston valve. The pitman concept made its American debut in a Hutchings-Votey instrument in the Flatbush Dutch Reformed Church in Brooklyn in 1899. This was during Skinner's tenure with Hutchings and after his first journey to England. Wagner points out that this instrument: "probably used their pouch and lever action similar to what EMS used in his Opus 140 at Trinity Episcopal Cathedral in Cleveland with pitman action in 1906. It was only later that the pitman rail was put under the pouch rail."15 Skinner recognized the pivotal role of the pouch when he wrote: "My second acknowledgment is made to Casavant Frères of St. Hyacinthe, P.Q., who brought this type of motor (sic, i.e., pouch) to the state of refinement shown in the present manual chests and which, through their gracious courtesy, was given to me."16

The term pitman is attributed to Audsley who so named it because of the design of the action motor in the prototype of his day. "The Pitman-valve consists of a disc of fine, smooth leather firmly glued and tacked to the end of a short cylindrical stem of hard wood and well black-leaded to reduce friction to a minimum," he explained.17 The stem is the man and the orifice in which it moves is the pit (see diagram). The Skinner diagram is reproduced courtesy Norm Kinnaugh of the Reuter Organ Company. The American Organist describes it: "The name means man-in-a-pit: There is no Mr. Pitman connected with it—the man happens to be, instead, Mr. Ernest M. Skinner."18 Typically, Skinner took credit for the system: "The pitman stop action valve . . . is my contribution to this important factor in the composition of the organ," he wrote.19 The pouch valve and key and stop action pitman rail under the toeboard, perfected by Skinner, became the generic term for the system. It is characterized today by either a leather disc (without the formerly used wooden stem) or a hinged leather flap which acts as the relief valve/switch in exhausting the key and stop channels. 

Summary

The triumph of the pitman action in the early decades of this century is attributable, apart from Skinner's influence, to its pronounced mechanical advantages during this period, in addition to the perceived weaknesses of the ventil system. Herbert Huestis, in an intriguing hypothesis, theorizes that organbuilding follows playing style, both then and now. In the first three decades of the twentieth century the crescendo pedal made possible the style of playing on the larger instruments characteristic of this period. This was the era of transcriptions as concert fare, and of large instruments built by Skinner, Möller, Austin and Kimball for municipal auditoriums and similar venues as well as for churches.20 As Wilson Barry comments: "Virgil Fox was Mr. Crescendo Pedal."21 The pitman windchest is optimally suited to the crescendo pedal, both in adding stops in the buildup to a powerful chorus and in reducing stops while holding a chord. Conversely, the ventil chest, with its much slower stop action, is woefully deficient in this respect. Momentary pitch variation in a ventil chest results in the transition period when wind pressure rises and falls as the ventil channel is charged and emptied. In addition, the pitman is adaptable to playing one rank as two stops; for example, a Diapason at eight and four foot pitches, and for playing a Fifteenth separately from a Mixture.

In retrospect, a ventil windchest is less complicated in layout and, with fewer borings, is less expensive to build than a pitman, although with the separate enclosure required for the stop action it is somewhat larger. The exception was the venerable Estey windchest, which could accommodate a 43 scale Diapason on the chest, and was even smaller than  a pitman. Another drawback of the  ventil is having wind on only one side of the leather stop action valve which seriously shortens its life. Only a small percentage of the time does a pitman pouch have wind on just one side. Furthermore, as Robert Vaughan points out, in former times when the blower was customarily located in the furnace room of the church, coal dust would be drawn into the organ action. Leather is permeable and as the wind filtered through the leather, as in a ventil stop action, the acidic compounds inherent in coal would be deposited in the leather hastening its demise. Finding organ leathers blackened with coal dust was a common experience of servicemen of yesteryear.22

The respected firms mentioned above continued to build the ventil windchest long after it was technically obsolete because they felt comfortable with it and, logically, took pride in their work and their innovations in the evolution of windchest action. The Kilgen key action, particularly when measured on a unit chest, has long been recognized by experts to be among the fastest key actions ever developed.23 These builders believed that whatever differences existed in stop action speed versus the pitman were either non-existent or minimal and, therefore, were of no consequence in the marketplace. As Huestis points out, they were builders of comparatively small instruments where the crescendo pedal was not a pivotal factor.24 Lacking personnel familiar with alternative systems they were fearful of failure. Windchest systems existed side by side in the organ industry because windchest cost is only a fraction of the total cost of building an instrument and, therefore, is not a determining factor. Otherwise, if windchest cost had been dominant, the Austin mechanism, so economically superior in design and manufacture, would have driven out the rest of the industry and monopolized the market.

August Gern, a relatively unknown and long-forgotten figure in nineteenth- century Continental organbuilding, deserves a small niche in the pantheon of notable organbuilders for his seminal contribution to the pitman action. His concept of using chest wind as the activating force was a milestone in the evolution of the pipe organ windchest and his uncanny switching mechanism laid the foundation for the highly successful pitman electropneumatic system.