Trophy Builders and their Instruments

R. E. Coleberd is an economist and petroleum industry executive.

In his seminal article "The Economics of Superstars," in The American Economic Review1, Sherwin Rosen, professor of economics at the University of Chicago and recently (1994) honored as vice president of the American Economic Association, analyzed what he termed "an increasingly important market phenomenon in our time" and developed the economic implications of it. This is the phenomenon of the superstar, the tendency of talented performers to be singled out as superior to all others and, thereby, to dominate the market in which they perform. He asserted that the paradigm is found virtually everywhere in contemporary economic life; in professional athletics, arts and letters and in show business. In economic parlance, the analytical framework is "a special type of assignment problem, the marriage of buyers to sellers, including the assignment of audiences to performers, of students to textbooks, patients to doctors, and so forth."2  Superstars all share what is termed "box office appeal" which is the ability to attract a large following (audience) and to generate a substantial volume of transactions. Rosen was quick to comment that there is no magic formula for becoming a superstar but it involves a combination of talent and charisma in uncertain proportions.

Professional athletes and rock singers are obvious examples
of superstars today. However, Rosen gives one interesting example from the
world of music which occurred nearly two hundred years ago and which was cited
by the eminent nineteenth-century English economist Alfred Marshall.3 In 1801,
a Mrs. Elizabeth Billington reportedly earned the then princely sum of between
£10,000 and £15,000 singing Italian Opera in Covent Garden and
Drury Lane.4 With her extraordinary voice she defined Italian opera and female
vocal performance to the sophisticated urban gentry who flocked to her
performances throughout her career and who discounted other singers of lesser
ability.

Upon reflection, the author, an economist and longtime
student of market phenomena and the economics of pipe organ building, believes
the concept of superstars described by Rosen has a novel and intriguing
application to the King of Instruments and its builders in the last 100 years.
Perhaps it offers a partial explanation of the quixotic, always fascinating,
and endlessly intriguing market for the pipe organ and for the fortunes of
several builders. A glance at the history of the industry shows that certain
builders enjoyed a large following or "box office appeal" during
their era. What was the combination of "talent and charisma" that
accounted for their success?

Our definition of superstar as it applies to the pipe organ
hinges upon the ability of a builder to preempt substantially a particular
market during his era through tonal or mechanical characteristics, perhaps
working together, in his instruments. This builder virtually redefines the pipe
organ with the result that previous instruments are now considered obsolete and
the work of other builders noncompetitive. In economic analysis this concept
rests upon "imperfect substitution" among sellers which, in the
superstar market phenomenon, means that buyers invariably will single out a
particular product or service as best meeting their (individual and group)
needs. They do not consider other products and services to be an acceptable
alternative. Parallel to Rosen's observation of a conspicuous concentration of
output among sellers who have the most talent (as in rock singers) is the share
of certain nameplates in particular well-defined markets for pipe organs.
Although the pipe organ historically has had a large and diverse audience, we
must look at specific categories of the general market:
style="mso-spacerun: yes"> movie theaters in the 1920s in which
Wurlitzer fits the definition, the residential market of that period in which
Aeolian gets the nod, and the college and university market in the immediate
postwar period in which Holtkamp is the outstanding example, and Schlicker is
perhaps a very good one.

A word of caution: definitions and concepts are always
arbitrary and frequently narrow. Thus they will evoke different interpretations
and diverging opinions among other observers. The author elects to make Rosen's
word "superstar" synonymous with his own term "trophy
builder." The readers, in their definition of trophy builders and
instruments, may elect to focus on certain instruments (The Mormon Tabernacle),
regions (New England), the work of tonal architects and voicers (Richard O.
Whitelegg) or inventions and systems (John T. Austin). Or, they may wish to
recognize, if not include in the definition, Robert Hope-Jones, whose
pioneering work in the emerging instrument at the turn of the century, was to
exert a pronounced influence on the industry. Well and good. The author merely
hopes that his own interpretation in the following discussion will shed light
on a unique aspect of the rich history of pipe organ building in America.

Roosevelt

Our first illustration of the superstar concept in American
organbuilding is Hilborne L. Roosevelt. His instrument for the Centennial
Exposition in Philadelphia, and many that followed, were truly a watershed in
the evolution of the pipe organ. As noted historian Orpha Ochse observed:
"One may say that the Roosevelt organs actually marked the beginning of a
new era in organ history."5 Through successful application of electricity
in non-mechanical action and the introduction of several new stops, he, in
effect, redefined the instrument. Now tracker action was increasingly
considered out of style in the growing urban market characterized by the
construction of large churches. 
The new voices, embracing the European romantic tradition, made possible
in part by the new action, suggested that the tonal pallet of the tracker was
out of date as well.  His
instruments embodied the hallmarks of the new era:  liberal use of enclosed divisions in divided chambers, echo
divisions, a detached console, 
adjustable combination action and the electric motor blower for wind
supply.  The affluent urban
customer got the message: there was something new in  pipe organs out there. They were quick to recognize it and
they were interested.  Roosevelt's
star rose swiftly and in the brief two decades he flourished he won what must
have been a lion's share of the business in New York City, and important
contracts elsewhere as well. News of the "new organ" traveled swiftly
across the country. Thus we had Roosevelt instruments in Danville, Illinois and
Kansas City, Missouri, among other 
small cities, all of considerable distance from New York. The most
widely publicized instrument of the Roosevelt era, if not in retrospect its
crown jewel, was the four-manual for the Cathedral of the Incarnation in Garden
City, Long Island.6

Ernest Skinner, who was to pick up the baton after
Roosevelt's untimely death (and his brother's decision to liquidate the
business), acknowledged Roosevelt's position in the evolution of the instrument
and the industry when he wrote: "Many organs were built by Roosevelt
according to the above plan (individual valve chest), which, together with his
fine tone, earned for him the most distinguished name of any builder of his
time."7

E. M. Skinner

The next trophy builder, who fits our definition eloquently,
is the renowned Ernest M. Skinner. Roosevelt had opened the door to a new era;
now Skinner would hoist his banner and march triumphantly through the city
church landscape for the next three decades.  The Skinner name became a household word and defined the
pipe organ among the knowledgeable urban gentry. What Tiffany was to glass
Skinner was to the pipe organ among socially conscious city folks. "And we
have a Skinner Organ" is one of the ways these people described their churches. This type of product identification, with perhaps no parallel in the pipe organ industry, is the dream of every advertising manager in business today. Skinner also enjoyed the same preferred position in the college and university market during his era that Holtkamp and Schlicker were to savor in the period after World War II.

Like Roosevelt's, Skinner's instruments were a combination
of mechanical and tonal innovations. "The mechanical and tonal factors of
the organ are dependent upon each other for a fulfillment of their
purposes,"8 he wrote. A major contributor was the pitman windchest,
light-years ahead of the Roosevelt ventil system, which would stand the test of
time and be adopted by numerous builders in succeeding decades. The origins of
the pitman action are found, no doubt, in the many experimenters in
single-valve action during the turn of the century.  One of them, reportedly, was August Gern,
Cavaillé-Coll's foreman, who later built organs in England under his own
name. But it remained for Skinner to take it to Mount Olympus. When the
lightning fast  pitman key action
(thirty-three milliseconds between key touch and pipe speech) and equally
responsive (and quiet) stop action was coupled with exotic orchestral voices,
the Skinner organ quickly became the "box office favorite."

William H. Barnes listed the stops, not always invented by
Skinner, but developed and utilized in his trophy installations, which became
hallmarks of his work and era. All stops are 8' unless otherwise noted.9

Erzähler-Christ Church, Hartford, Connecticut

Orchestral Oboe-Tompkins Avenue Congregational Church,
Brooklyn, New York

English Horn (8' and 16')-City College, New York

French Horn-Williams College, Williamstown, Masssachusetts

Kleine Erzähler-Fourth Presbyterian, Chicago

Gross Gedeckt-Second Congregational, Holyoke, Massachusetts

Corno Di Bassetto-Williams College, Williamstown,
Massachusetts

Tuba Mirabilis-Cathedral of St. John the Divine, New York

French Trumpet-Cathedral of St. John the Divine, New York

Orchestral Bassoon (16')-Skinner Studio, Boston

Gambe Celeste-Cathedral of St. John the Divine, New York

Bombarde (32')-Cathedral of St. John the Divine, New York

Violone (32')-Cathedral of St. John the Divine, New York

Sub Bass (32')-Cathedral of St. John the Divine, New York

Contra Bassoon (32')-Princeton University, Princeton, New
Jersey

Skinner's icon image was eloquent confirmation of the
fact  that an organbuilding
enterprise is the lengthened shadow of the key figure behind it.
style="mso-spacerun: yes">  As his biographer Dorothy Holden wrote:  "In all truth, it was this ability to infuse his instruments with all the vitality, warmth, and charm of his own personality that created the very essence of the Skinner organ."10

Aeolian Skinner and G. Donald Harrison

The Aeolian Skinner organ was the gold standard for affluent
urbanites with champagne tastes, many of them Episcopalians, who viewed the
church and its appointments as the logical extension of their commanding
economic and social position in the community. That the instrument was built in
Boston, the fountainhead of American culture, was reassuring, and the name
Skinner in the logo denoted continuity with a firm of established reputation.
G. Donald Harrison had filled E. M. Skinner's shoes admirably and moved ahead
to carve out his own niche in the pantheon of great American builders.

Harrison's lasting imprint on American pipe organ heritage
began about 1932; for example, in Northrup Auditorium at the University of
Minnesota, and was well-established in 1935 with Groton School and Church of
the Advent in Boston instruments, which in the public mind were the
cornerstones of his era. These two trophy instruments were
style="mso-spacerun: yes">  milestones in the emergence of the
American Classic tradition of which he was the leading exponent during his
time. As Ochse explains: "He coupled an appreciation for some of the
outstanding European styles with his thorough background in English organ
building."11 His goal was an eclectic instrument on which all schools and
styles of organ music could be played with clarity and with reasonable
authenticity.

In superstar products, endorsement is a key to status as is
the demonstration effect, which is the identification of purchasers with peer
groups and the desire to emulate them. With Aeolian-Skinner the demonstration
effect was most important and endorsement not as crucial. When prospective
clients were reminded of the Skinner legacy and shown the opus list: Symphony
Hall Boston, St. Thomas Episcopal, New York and Fourth Presbyterian, Chicago, to
name a few, they said "that's us" and signed up.
style="mso-spacerun: yes">  With Holtkamp and Schlicker, on the
other hand, endorsement was paramount.

Aeolian

The Aeolian Duo Art pipe organ was the instrument of choice
among the business and social elite in the first three decades of this
century.  Their opulent life style
was anchored in castles, Italian villas and French chateaus featuring mirrored
ballrooms, manicured gardens and pipe organs and was augmented
style="mso-spacerun: yes">  frequently by polo fields, yachts and
private railroad cars. The Aeolian reputation was initially distinguished by
its self-playing mechanism and superior roll library.  Then, the nameplate took over. The "Lords of
Creation" were only too glad to pay steep prices for the Aeolian
instrument in order to "keep up with the Joneses."
style="mso-spacerun: yes">  Below is a sampling of familiar
names  among the captains of
industry who had Aeolian Duo Art residence organs.12

The Automotive Industry:

Dodge, Horace E., Detroit, Michigan

Dodge, John F., Detroit, Michigan

Firestone, H. S., Akron, Ohio

Ford, Edsel B., Detroit, Michigan

Kettering, C. F., Dayton, Ohio

Olds, R. E., Lansing, Michigan

Packard, W. D., Warren, Ohio

Seiberling, F. A., Akron, Ohio

Studebaker, J. M., Jr., South Bend, Indiana

Merchants and Manufacturers:

Armour, J. O., Lake Forest, Illinois

Cudahay, J. M., Lake Forest, Illinois

DuPont, Irenee, Wilmington, Delaware

DuPont, Pierre S., Wilmington, Delaware

Swift, G. F. Jr., Chicago, Illinois

Woolworth, F. W., New York, New York

Wrigley, Wm. Jr., Chicago, Illinois

Publishers:

Bok, Edward, Merion, Pennsylvania

Curtis, C.H.K., Wyncote, Pennsylvania

Pulitzer, Mrs. Joseph, New York, New York

Scripps, W. E., Detroit, Michigan

Railroads and Public Utilities:

Flagler, John H., Greenwich, Connecticut

Harriman, E. H., Arden, New York

Vanderbilt, W. K., New York, New York

Vanderbilt, W. K. Jr., Northport, Long Island, New York

Steel and Oil:

Carnegie, Andrew, New York, New York

Frick, H. C., Pride's Crossing, Massachusetts

Rockefeller, John D., Pocantico Hills, New York

Rockefeller, John D., Jr., New York, New York

Schwab, Charles M., New York, New York

Teagle, Walter C., Portchester, New York

Wurlitzer

The tidal wave of capital pouring into the construction of movie theaters after the turn of the century created an insatiable demand for the wondrous new musical medium, the theater pipe organ, pioneered in concept by
Robert Hope-Jones. Investors clamored to capture the fortunes awaiting them in
motion pictures, a spectacular new form of mass entertainment. No movie
theater, be it an ornate palace in a downtown metropolitan area or a small town
storefront cinema, was complete (or competitive) without a theater organ. The
demand spawned an entirely new industry--Barton, Link, Robert Morton, Marr
& Colton, Page and, of course, Wurlitzer which, bolstered by
style="mso-spacerun: yes">  clever streetcar advertising, became
the generic term for the theater organ. What Kodak was to amateur photography
and Gillette was to shaving, Wurlitzer was  to the theater pipe organ.

The new industry emerged because the theater organ was a
radically different instrument; characterized by significantly higher wind
pressures, the horseshoe console, unification of the stoplist, and the tibia
and kinura, among others, as distinctive voices in the tonal pallet.
style="mso-spacerun: yes">  Other builders produced theater organs,
chiefly during the years of peak demand, but they were primarily identified
with the church instrument and market. We award Wurlitzer the trophy accolade
because their output of over 2,000 instruments was more than twice the number
of their nearest competitor Robert Morton, who built slightly fewer than 900.13

Holtkamp

Walter Holtkamp was a true innovator in the Schumpeterian
sense, i.e., the concrete expression of ideas in marketable goods.
style="mso-spacerun: yes">  He had the wisdom and good judgment to
recognize that the classical revival and the North German paradigm, which he
sought to emulate, required a radical departure from existing norms. It was not
a matter of substituting a stop here and there, of lowering wind pressure an
inch or two, or of dispensing with the ubiquitous strings and celestes of the
1920's. It would begin with the wholesale elimination of melodias, cornopeans,
flutes d'amour and numerous other stops, all arranged in a horizontal tonal
pallet dominated by the eight-foot pitch with an occasional four-foot stop. He
would introduce a vertical tonal pallet with a pitch range of 16' through
mixtures, and underscore the principal as the foundation of
style="mso-spacerun: yes">  an organ chorus. Capped or semi-capped
flutes would provide color and harmonic development and blend well. He would
use primarily chorus reeds of Germanic "free tone" style as opposed
to "dark tone" English reeds in his ensemble.

To his great credit, Holtkamp surrounded himself with
knowledgeable people, and these persons of influence found in him the
pathfinder who would lead them to the promised land of a baroque organ. He was
said to be a stubborn man but he was a good listener.  William H. Barnes remarked that he had the good fortune to
be located in Cleveland where he benefited enormously from the friendship and
support of three important people in the organ reform movement: Walter
Blodgett, Arthur Quimby and Melville Smith.14 As his biographer John Ferguson
noted: "The continuing association with organists and musicians
sympathetic to his ideas was of central importance to the development of his
work."15 His close collaboration with architects legitimatized bringing
the organ out of chambers and resulted in the distinctive "Holtkamp
look."  Widely copied by other
builders, it was a distinguishing feature of his instruments and era.

After World War II he built a group of loyal followers, many
of them academics, led by Arthur Poister of Oberlin and Syracuse, whose
students moved on to choice academic and church positions and spread the gospel
of Holtkamp.  Soon he enjoyed a
preferred if not a virtual monopoly position in the upscale college and
university market where these leaders of the organist profession flourished.

The Holtkamp organ was the marquee instrument for
academe.  To have a Holtkamp was to
make a statement.  Installations at
Yale University and the University of California at Berkeley as well as
Syracuse University and Oberlin College, quickly convinced many schools, including small colleges like Erskine in Due West, South Carolina, that an important milestone on the road to academic excellence and peer recognition was a Holtkamp organ. Invidious comparison and competitive emulation (Thorstein
Veblen) were--and are--alive and well in academe. Thus it is no mere
coincidence that each of the three prestigous women's colleges in
Virginia--Hollins, Sweetbriar and Randolph-Macon--has a three-manual Holtkamp
instrument. When Hollins got the first one, the other two schools could not
have done anything else. 

Other builders couldn't compete with him in this market. As
one industry veteran, who asked not to be identified, remarked: "If they
were interested in a Holtkamp or a Schlicker, we knew we might as well fold our
tent." This market had pre-judged other builders and in the clamor for
peer recognition; it was the name that counted. Even if other builders used the
same scales and voicing techniques, they could not build a Holtkamp organ.
Poister, a grand person who was widely acknowledged as one of the finest organ
teachers of his or any generation, exerted what can only be described as a
fantastic influence on the fortunes of this builder. His championing of the
Holtkamp organ was surely the equal of the endorsement for breakfast foods and
athletic footwear by professional athletes today.

Schlicker

The market for a neobaroque instrument embracing the
Orgelbewegung  movement was growing
and the established industry was caught with an image problem it could not yet
overcome, opening the door for yet another builder to rise to prominence and by
redefining  the instrument and
capturing a preferred position in a specific market, to achieve trophy status
under our definition. This was Herman Schlicker. His launching pad was the rebuild of the 1893 Johnson organ in the Grace Episcopal Church in Sandusky, Ohio in 1950 with the advice and encouragement of Robert Noehren.16
style="mso-spacerun: yes">  Schlicker would go on to etch his
definition of the pipe organ in bold relief: a comparatively severe instrument earmarked by a mild fundamental, a shift in the tonal balance with an emphasis on upperwork, and a reduction in the percentage of strings in the tonal resources as well as a preference for 18th-century strings of an almost soft principal timbre to the exclusion of romantic (pencil) strings.  Baroque style chorus and color reeds were featured in stoplists favoring early music, often suggesting the Praetorius mantra
(reflecting the influence of close friend and confidant Paul Bunjes).
style="mso-spacerun: yes"> 

To augment his tonal resources, Schlicker devised a
"Tonkanzell" electropneumatic windchest featuring a long channel with
the valve closing against a side rail as opposed to closing directly under the
toehole as in conventional pouch-action chests. This was designed to buffer aerodynamically the effect of the opening valve on the pipe foot and to approximate the wind characteristics of the slider chest.17 He was also an early advocate of the slider chest in nonmechanical construction and incorporated it in several instruments.

Schlicker's tonal philosophy and his instruments were
especially appealing to German Lutheran congregations eager to embrace their
historical roots and to academics who shared his definition of the pipe organ.
Robert Noehren, from his lofty perch as university organist and
style="mso-spacerun: yes">  professor at the University of
Michigan, enjoyed a wide following at one of the thriving centers for graduate
study in organ during this period. His recordings, recitals and convention
appearances earned for him a stellar reputation as a leading spokesman for the
organ reform movement and, thereby, directly and indirectly for the Schlicker
instrument.  E. Power Biggs also
was caught  up in the Schlicker
movement.18 The importance of endorsements by key spokesmen cannot be
overestimated in the fortunes of the Schlicker Company.

Fisk

By 1970 a phalanx of American organists had traveled to
Europe--on sabbaticals, tours and Fulbright Scholarships-- and been introduced
to many schools and streams of historical organbuilding. They became aware of
new possibilities in their own situations and responsive to a domestic builder
who articulated their ideas. This was Charles Fisk. His Harvard background was
convincing and his Boston location reassuring. In his writings and appearances
before professional groups, Fisk conveyed an in-depth knowledge of European
instruments, his own sympathy with continental ideas and his ability to execute
them.

The epic two-manual tracker organ Fisk built at Mt. Calvary
Church in Baltimore in 1961 was earmarked by the werkprinzip in case design,
suspended key action and, in this example, the tonal philosophy of Andreas
Silbermann.19  This instrument was
his springboard to an illustrious, though tragically short, career. He became
the first American tracker builder to challenge successfully the dominance of
such European builders as Flentrop, Rieger and von Beckerath, in the
construction of large instruments. In response to a loyal and enthusiastic
following, Fisk built a number of contemporary organs as well as period instruments patterned after specific historical antecedents. His rise to prominence is further evidence that each generation looks for--and finds--a new trophy builder, a shiny new nameplate that commands that elusive "box office appeal" and with it an unchallengeable (monopoly) position in a particular market. Over the years his instruments at Harvard and Stanford clinched his reputation much as Holtkamp's organs at Yale and Berkeley had done for him--a reputation still well-deserved  by the Fisk firm after the premature passing of Charles Fisk.

Summary and Conclusions

The trophy builder analysis based upon Rosen's superstar
phenomenon, offers a useful perspective on the all-important market dimension
of the economics of the pipe organ industry.  Its ingredients are: tonal and mechanical innovation,
location, the demonstration effect and endorsement, and each generation's
search for something new under the sun. Veblen's time honored psycho-social
phenomenon of invidious comparison and competitive emulation cannot be
ignored.  Who will be the next
trophy builder?

Perhaps this 
builder will reflect the swing of the pendulum back to the romantic
tradition and the emergence of an eclectic instrument embracing the
contemporary as well as an historical perspective in liturgical music. This
builder, and the entire industry, must be able to confirm the stature of the
pipe organ within the myriad of musical options such as synthesizers,
sequencers and auto-accompaniment being promoted today. The King of Instruments
must be recognized as the legitimate and time-honored vehicle for musical
expression in corporate worship. In retrospect, the history of the instrument
in the American experience is perhaps closely tied to the fortunes of the
mainline denominations and the middle class, both increasingly challenged by
the sweeping socio-economic changes now evident in our society. Ethnic and
language characteristics of migrant populations mitigate against identification
with traditional religious groups and the realities of a rapidly changing
global marketplace impact the wage profile and employment structure of our
economy.  As one industry veteran
explained, the danger as we move into the 21st century is that "the
reorganization of religious expression makes the sounds of the pipe organ less
vital to 'religiousness,' hence less important."20 Our challenge is to
reverse this mindset and to assert that the pipe organ is central to musical
expression in religion and these other developments are ancillary to it.
style='mso-tab-count:1'>          n

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

R. E. Coleberd is an economist and petroleum industry executive.

Pipe organs advertised for sale by colleges and universities raise serious questions about the vitality of the King of Instruments in institutions of higher learning.  Organs that are abandoned or replaced are routinely advertised in the classified columns of The Diapason and The American Organist, an economical and efficient way of reaching potential buyers. However, until now, solicitations by schools have clearly been the exception.

In discussions with active and retired organ faculty and
music department personnel across the country, the author has discovered what
he finds to be a disturbing nationwide phenomenon symptomatic of a paradoxical
trend in higher education.  The
advertised sales seem to be the tip of an iceberg. Many organs, having too
often been systematically neglected and abandoned, are now being sold off at an
increasing rate. The experiences of the schools cited below, together with
comments by faculty who, all too often, have watched the sad spectacle of the
pipe organ fading into the sunset, demonstrate that we are witnessing a crisis
with profound implications for cultural life in America.

The purpose of this paper is to create awareness of the
gravity of the situation. We will analyze causes of the phenomenon and give
examples to illustrate the scope of the problem in both auditorium, concert
hall, practice and studio instruments. The reader will, no doubt, be aware of
similar examples elsewhere. Each one differs but there are common threads
through all of them.  We will offer
recommendations on how persons who are deeply distressed by these ominous
developments--because their lives are so closely connected to the instrument:  faculty, students, alumni and concerned laymen--can protect and promote the pipe organ in an academic setting. In retrospect, we believe the S.O.S. should have been tapped out thirty years ago.

Background

We begin with the premise that a pipe organ on a college
campus is an integral part of the intellectual, cultural, artistic and musical
resources of the school, standing alongside the telescope in the observatory,
the paintings and sculpture in the art gallery and the book collections in the
library. These time-honored treasures of a campus setting constitute the raison
d'être of institutions of higher learning, traditionally the trustees of
our culture and the guardians of our future in science and the arts. They make
possible its mission and accomplishments, and define its status and recognition
among its peers.

We continue with the admonition that a pipe organ is
symbolic of the achievements of western civilization and the legacy of our
European origins. It embodies the collective experience of generations in its
recognized prominence in the creativity and expression of music as well as in
architecture, technical developments and craftsmanship. Without the King of
Instruments, the great music it made possible would not have been written, and
without this rich tradition the instrument would not have enjoyed its glorious
position in history. The pipe organ embraced the finest craftsmanship in
Europe, just as precision workmanship survives in organbuilding today, symbolic
of the artistry of hand-crafted objects. In technical strides, the instrument
was the equal of any developments in the 19th and early 20th centuries. At the
turn of this century, the pipe organ was perhaps the most complex mechanism
ever developed. The combination action and other features of the console,
particularly the unrivaled Austin combination action, were an example of binary
algebra and an immediate predecessor of the computer. The Skinner player
mechanism on residence organs employed a pneumatic/mechanical computer to
decipher the rolls; in retrospect a further development of Charles Babbage's
difference engine dating back to the 1820s.1

Therefore, a pipe organ is not merely an appliance or
teaching device. Its value and contribution, along with other cornerstones of a
campus setting, are in the perpetuation of an atmosphere of excellence in
learning and human aspirations in culture and the arts. Sadly, these timeless
elements have gone largely unnoticed today by college administrators and state
legislatures who fail to recognize the stature of the instrument in their
budgetary deliberations and who base their decisions on square feet of space
required, number of credit hours generated and dollars of support necessary.

The fate of the instrument and the crux of the problem is,
in many ways, a manifestation of the unique characteristics of the pipe organ
which set it apart from other campus resources. The pipe organ in an
institutional setting suffers from a spatial, temporal and what some might call
an existential problem. In comparison with other musical instruments it is
quite large, requires considerable space, is fixed in location and, therefore,
its musical delivery is confined to the proximity of the instrument. In
contrast, violinists and pianists perform in a variety of venues the world over
thereby fostering a close symbiotic relationship between themselves, their
music and the instrument. Moreover, as Will Headlee points out, because of the
nuances and complexities of the pipe organ, requiring a close interaction with
the performer, music making on the organ is akin to chamber music which
necessitates a chamber music mentality versus a soloist mentality.2
style="mso-spacerun: yes">  The linkage between organists and the
instrument is not so close in part because they play many different
instruments. The problem is exacerbated when the music-going public think of
themselves as deciding first to go to hear an organ, and second, to hear a
style="mso-spacerun: yes">  particular organist.
style="mso-spacerun: yes">  Sadly, they don't go very often.
Furthermore, those interested in organ music per se have available compact
discs of the world's great instruments, and in the course of listening to them
they become less interested--and less supportive--of instruments of lower
quality and reputation.

The pipe organ is no longer a priority item with music
school deans and department chair persons, who must compete for students and
who struggle to maintain their share of a diminishing campus budget in an
atmosphere of financially strapped institutions. Tragically, pipe organs are
too often considered expendable. As Western Washington's Albert Smith explains:  in contrast to other musical instruments, a pipe organ is a "terribly expensive musical medium to purchase and maintain."3 In physical and dollar terms it is rather like
comparing an ocean liner to a rowboat. 
A violin may require a new string or two, an oboe a reed.
style="mso-spacerun: yes">  But Smith doesn't have funds in his
budget for a routine service call.

The instrument is also the victim of the pronounced secular
trend in policy decisions in the upper echelons of university administration.
In all but the few remaining traditional church-related liberal arts colleges
which enjoy a very close and continuing denominational affiliation, religious
beliefs are intellectually suspect in the quest for "truth" and
perhaps nothing is more "politically incorrect" on campus today than
organized religion. Religious faith and corporate worship are sometimes viewed
as a sign of personal weakness and dependency. Perhaps because the pipe organ
is so closely tied to the church in the layman's mind, it is perceived as an
antique or museum piece and is, therefore, irrelevant to the pursuit of
knowledge in our time, particularly in the frantic search for "hot
buttons" such as computer science and genetic engineering to generate
publicity and garner public and private financial support.

The declining fortunes of the pipe organ in academe are
also, without doubt, a reflection of the waning interest in high culture in the
baby boom generation. The prior generation, the war babies, were deeply
involved in cultural pursuits, as measured by attendance and financial support.
But their offspring, as surveys show, are two-career families who are often
pre-occupied with television, movies and pop culture, and who frequently spend
their limited time working out at the health club or surfing on the Internet.
Baby boomers' education levels, though higher than their parents, differed
significantly:  fewer chose liberal
arts degrees with the corresponding affinity for the arts; more chose business
and engineering. Judith Balfe, author of a forthcoming study comments:
"For their parents' generation, those who had higher education and higher
income, the arts were far more important to their understanding of themselves
and their civic responsibility." Today, audiences are segmented and
targeted by advertisers, and "the sense of a culture--at least a popular
culture--which transcended generations" is gone.4

In the economic and political exigencies of state
legislatures and often their private school counterparts as well, cost-benefit
analysis has emerged, in this era, as the overriding criterion for the
allocation of funds in higher education. Under these mandates, the pipe organ
is acutely vulnerable to changing patterns of student enrollment and facilities
use. One conspicuous development in this trend is the designation of professional schools as "stand alone" enterprises (the law school at the University of Virginia and the business school at Duke University are examples) with sole responsibility for their financial well-being. Presumably they can be funded adequately by tuition, alumni giving, endowments and continuing education fees, all a manifestation of the economic fortunes of these
professions in our society. In contrast, these sources of support are decidedly
limited for the arts.  It is
difficult to imagine that the income of a church musician would ever endow a
pipe organ let alone a music department or school.

We must emphasize that there are decided limits to the
market-driven mentality which so pervades our colleges today. An institution of
higher learning is not a consumer products business, like detergents or
toothpaste, in which products (curriculum) are changed to suit every whim of a
fickle public. It is not a middle eastern bazaar in which the travelers
(students) shop in passing for rugs and brass (courses). If a college or
university "sells out" to the marketplace and surrenders every
vestige of intellectual rigor and vitality, it risks becoming a trade school.
Over time, the application of cost-benefit analysis in the funding of state
supported schools erodes the distinction of an institution of higher learning
from any other state agency (prison, mental hospital, orphanage, etc.). The
resulting minimum level of funding substantially diminishes its unique and
time-honored function.  Can an
academic institution, let alone a pipe organ, survive in such an atmosphere?
The well-known social critic Thorstein Veblen  in his polemic The Higher Learning in America: A
Memorandum on the Conduct of Universities by Business Men
style='font-style:normal'>, identified what we now term the market mentality;
the prevailing emphasis on "practical or useful" curricula as
measured by the payoff in the job market. If Veblen's acid critique was
premature in 1918, it couldn't have been more prophetic of the sad situation today.5

Auditoriums and Concert Halls

In the earlier decades of this century, the college
auditorium was customarily a focal point of the campus landscape, and often an
architectural masterpiece.  As a
convocation center it symbolized the collegial atmosphere of the institution.
No auditorium was complete without a large pipe organ, often a superb
instrument by a renowned builder such as George Hutchings or E. M. Skinner.
This was also a period in which the university organist enjoyed high visibility
and a prominent position in the faculty hierarchy beyond his appointment in the
music department, in part because, frequently, he had studied in Europe, a mark
of distinction and status in the professoriate of that era. Presiding at the
auditorium console, his heroic and inspiring music welcomed student and faculty
gatherings for convocations, and he accompanied the singing of the national
anthem and the alma mater. He played the processional and recessional for
commencement, and accompanied the glee club. The auditorium and the pipe organ
thus served as a unifying force in the undergraduate experience, contributing
to that vital sense of community, identity and the search for meaning so
tragically lacking in many schools today. No more! In our time campus speakers
are specialized and appeal only to certain disciplines and departments. Schools
have become too large for campus-wide convocations, and commencement has been
moved to the football field to accommodate the crowd. Moreover, in the
politicized atmosphere of a college campus today, there is too often no common
culture or purpose, no collective embrace of the universal values of an
institution of higher learning. Instead, each self-serving school or department
has become "privatized," looking out for its own interests and
grasping aggressively for its share of the diminishing public and private
funding. Whereas in earlier times the pipe organ was an integral part of the
auditorium and its function, now the instrument is too often underutilized and
dismissed as redundant. In the current use of the building it is merely in the
way, something to be ignored or cast aside.

The rebirth of the tracker organ in the 1950s, first with
widely-publicized European imports, and then with instruments by small domestic
builders, polarized the academic community and called into question the
efficacy of the American classic organ and its romantic and orchestral
ancestors. Music departments philosophically and functionally moved toward
earlier instruments, including the harpsichord. Large auditorium organs were
suddenly deemed out of date and expendable. This was also a time when budgets
allowed for obsolescence and replacement. But not today! Gone are the times
when instruments could be changed every generation in compliance with
nationwide fads and fashions, or to suit the demands of the teaching profession
who argued that a tracker instrument was necessary to attract students and who
were most likely expressing their desire to emulate their peers. Not that
obtaining a tracker was any assurance of protecting the status of the organ in
the school. True, they are smaller and require less space. But because of the
fundamental connection of the organ with church music, there is still the risk
of its being alienated by the deeply entrenched secular outlook on campus.

James Madison University

James Madison University, named for our fourth president, is
a school of 12,500 students in Harrisonburg, Virginia, southwest of Washington,
D.C. In 1937, the then Madison College, one of three teachers' colleges or
"normal schools" in the state, installed a landmark four-manual
fifty-two rank Möller pipe organ in Wilson Hall, scaled and voiced by the
legendary Richard O. Whitelegg. 
According to the late John Hose, Möller tonal director, this
instrument was one of the first four-manual Whitelegg Mollers.6 The dedicatory
recital was played by the nationally known keyboard artist Charlotte
Lockwood.  In a Möller
advertisement in the January, 1937 edition of The American Organist, the
builder stated that the instrument ". . . has already been adjudged as
definitely outstanding among the best organs in the East."7 This
pronouncement was validated by Senator Emerson Richards, who, reviewing the
instrument in the September edition of the same journal added: "Organ history has begun a new chapter and M. P. Möller Inc. is to be congratulated upon having written one of the first verses."8 Apart from its place in the resources of the university,  this instrument is an important milestone in the organ reform movement, and in the history of the Möller Company, for decades one of the premier companies in the American organ industry and now defunct. It is a signature instrument in the career of Whitelegg, an important figure in the twentieth-century legacy of the pipe organ in America. Yet tragically, these factors were overlooked when Wilson Hall was renovated in 1986. The stage was extended to accommodate a variety of venues, but no thought was given to the future of the organ. During remodeling the console was disconnected and stored in an unheated construction trailer which turned out to be its death sentence. As is well-known among organbuilders, a console stored under such conditions will deteriorate; in this case, it disintegrated. A local newspaper story soliciting community support to restore or replace the console of the now-forgotten organ fell on deaf ears. The university administration has made it known that campus investments in the arts will, at the present time, most likely depend upon private funding. In locked chambers today,  this majestic instrument stands mute, perhaps never to speak again.

The events at James Madison illustrate another common
problem in the academic fortunes of the pipe organ:  the conflict between the music and drama departments in
multi-purpose facilities. In 1968, the university built a fine arts center and
installed a three-manual Möller organ, a welcome sign that the
administration recognized music and the place of the organ in its concept of
the arts. However, as a result of poor space planning and failure to anticipate
overlap in facilities use, the music department soon tangled with the drama
department for use of the performance area. In due course, the music department
lost the turf battle and the Möller organ was taken out and sold to a
church in Ohio. A large four-story building to house the music department was
built in 1989, but budget limitations prevented the inclusion of a recital
hall, which precluded the addition of a pipe organ as an integral and visible
part of the resources of the facility. The only hint of a pipe organ on campus
today is the two practice instruments in the music building. The faculty uses
five instruments in town churches for teaching and student performances.

New England Conservatory

The sad situation in Jordan Hall at the New England
Conservatory of Music in Boston, is the result of discontinuities, conflicts
and budget priorities, beginning in many cases several decades ago, which are
seemingly endemic to the fate of concert hall instruments today. Built in 1902,
Jordan Hall featured a three-manual Hutchings organ which was a notable
addition to the cultural and musical resources of the city. It symbolized, no
doubt,  the importance of organ
study in the musical philosophy and mission of the Conservatory, as well as the
significance of a recital and instructional instrument in a concert hall.

Rebuilt and enlarged by Ernest M. Skinner in 1920, this
renowned instrument was widely used and well maintained, with a new console in
1928 and further work by Aeolian-Skinner in 1947. As tastes changed in the
1950s, the organ fell out of fashion and other demands for the hall took
precedence. In 1957, its status was seriously diminished when George Faxon, an
icon figure in the New England organ fraternity, left the Conservatory. His
successor, Donald Willing, ordered two European trackers (Metzler and Rieger)
to define the "new look" in pipe organs for the school. By the
mid-1960s, the Jordan Hall organ was passé and neglected; ten years
later it was was unplayable. In 1995, in an all too familiar policy decision,
the instrument was omitted from a $12 million renovation of Jordan Hall on the
grounds of expense and limited use--the busy hall schedule allows no time for
organ students.  One wonders if it
is only a matter of time until the instrument is sold. When an organ is both
unplayable and inaccessible, the chances of its survival are slim indeed.

University of South Dakota

At the University of South Dakota in Vermillion, the
twenty-eight rank, four-manual E. M. Skinner organ of 1928 was put in the dock
two years ago, a victim of deteriorating leather and wind leaks. The school
administration, under pressure to conform to enrollment and credit hours as the
overriding criteria for budgeting, and answering the call of the state
legislature to cut expenses, is uninterested in restoring the instrument. This
experience, common in publicly supported institutions, illustrates the fact
that there are seemingly no appropriations for maintenance, a situation which
is especially devastating for the pipe organ which requires scheduled routine
maintenance, as well as major expenses in the periodic renewal of chest
leather, and today in an electrical upgrade of the console. Today the "Why
do we need it?" reasoning asserts itself as well as the "Look what we
can do with the $100,000 (or more) required when only a few students play it
and hardly anybody listens to it."!

Western Washington University

The 1200-seat auditorium at Western Washington University in
Bellingham, houses a 1951 three-manual Möller organ, which fell into
disrepair and has been unplayable for twenty years. Campus politics have
dictated that the auditorium be used primarily for drama productions. Albert
Shaw, former music department chairman, estimates it would require $100,000 to
restore the instrument to its original condition, an outsized figure as
maintenance budgets go and a sum virtually impossible to justify given the
primary use of the building.

In 1978 Western Washington constructed a 700-seat concert
hall and installed a two- manual tracker instrument to complement three
practice organs. Then, in a familiar story, the theory professor who taught the
handful of organ students retired and was not replaced. Organ instruction was
then terminated only to be resumed after three years and then discontinued
again. Because a service call from Canada, two days at a minimum of $350-$500,
is prohibitive under current department budgets, neither the concert hall
tracker nor the three practice organs are maintained on a regular basis.

The University of Indianapolis

The University of Indianapolis, formerly Indiana Central
College, a United Methodist affiliated school, is yet another example of how
changing priorities and the economics of space use impact the fortunes of an
auditorium organ. It also illustrates the decision to consign the organs on
campus arbitrarily to a music facility and view them primarily as a teaching
and performance vehicle in a specialized and exclusive curriculum.

The recently-sold three-manual Möller organ was
installed in 1963 when the auditorium was used for convocations and chapel
services, campus-wide functions that were discontinued years ago. With the
auditorium now assigned to the drama department, the instrument was deemed
redundant and expendable.  The
possibility of enlarging and relocating the Möller was briefly considered
some years ago, but  the idea ended
when a new Fine Arts Center was built with a 500-seat recital hall to house a
new tracker instrument yet to be installed.

The evidence to date at James Madison University, the
University of South Dakota, the New England Conservatory, Western Washington
University, The University of Indianapolis and perhaps countless others,
strongly suggests that unless determined action is taken, auditorium pipe
organs may be doomed, especially if the building is the only performance
facility on campus.

The provision of a separate "Jewel Box" recital
hall for the pipe organ, as for example at the universities of Arizona and
Iowa, is viewed by some observers as a mixed blessing. On one hand, it would
appear to guarantee a permanent position for the instrument, insulating it from
the competition for space elsewhere in the building. On the other hand,
removing the organ from the mainstream of the music department, as well as the
rest of the campus, threatens to isolate it and erode the much-needed support
of the university community.

The greater use of off-campus organ resources by music
departments is an emerging trend that is viewed positively in certain quarters
of the teaching profession. At the University of Washington, Carole Terry
considers contractual arrangements with Seattle churches to be one of the
strengths of her program. These instruments, of various periods and tonal
design, complement the Paul Fritz tracker on campus, and afford the students a
much broader orientation to the pipe organ and to the spectrum and
interpretation of its literature. They also offer attractive teaching and
performance opportunities. 

This is the position of Frostburg State University in
Maryland which recently sold a 1970 Tellers organ, an instrument that had
suffered from a poor location and whose installation had never been
satisfactorily completed due to budget limitations. The faculty have long used
two excellent and recently updated Möller organs in Cumberland, within
walking distance of the campus, for teaching and performances. That this is
viewed as a permanent solution to the organ resource needs of the school is
reflected in the fact that the recital hall in the recently completed
multi-million dollar fine arts center omitted any space provision for a pipe
organ. A small, five-rank portable organ, to be used largely for accompaniment,
will be the only hint of a pipe organ on campus.

Arrangements between schools and local churches bodes well
for the pipe organ by reinforcing the linkage between the instrument and its
music in a liturgical setting. Yet it also suggests a lack of commitment to the
organ program in resource and curricular decisions of the school and a tragic
neglect of organ music as a foundation for a high quality education in music.
In the tenor of this paper, it ignores the place of a pipe organ in the broader
cultural dimensions of an institution of higher learning. A small portable
instrument to accompany other music offerings is indicative of a very minor and
largely supportive role for the instrument.  The absence of a recital instrument in a prominent campus
gathering place ignores the time-honored place of the pipe organ in the visible
(and in this case articulate) jewels of a college or university.

Practice and Studio Instruments

The sale of practice and studio organs by Concordia
(Nebraska), Cornell University, Frostburg State (Maryland), Kent State (Ohio),
Stevens Point (Wisconsin), Syracuse, and UCLA among others, with more to come
no doubt, is the final phase in the lockstep sequence of events that marks the
diminishing fortunes of the pipe organ in academe. Step one, declining
enrollment, began with economic forces impacting the organist profession in the
1970s. Wolfgang Rübsam of Northwestern University explains:
style="mso-spacerun: yes">  "When it became generally known
that the poorly paid church organist market would no longer justify parental
tuition investment in an organ education, organ enrollment collapsed."9
This was especially true if the degree was to be financed by loans which could
never be repaid on a church organist's salary. Graduate degrees, frequently at
comparatively costly yet highly visible and quality private schools or conservatories, were likewise unattractive because the academic market had dried up.

Step two was idle instruments, and the emerging
"opportunity costs" of the space which clamored for other use.
style="mso-spacerun: yes">  Step three was to sell the instruments.
To appease penurious state legislatures, campus budget officers liquidated the
under utilized resources and converted the space to a current "hot
button" at the school, perhaps a computer lab.  With budget officials breathing down their necks, the music
department meekly acceded to the cuts, hoping to save what they could in a
campus-wide scramble for funds. Step four is to not replace the organ professor
when he retires (Corliss Arnold at Michigan State and Will Headlee at Syracuse
are examples). The final step in this sad progression is the
"outsourcing" of organ instruction; i.e, to contract with a local
organist to teach the few students on a per diem basis with no benefits.

Concordia College

Concordia College in Seward, Nebraska is one of numerous
Concordia schools in the Lutheran denomination, whose traditional purpose was
to train teachers for their parochial schools. The school master or his
associates were also expected to be the parish musician, a tradition dating
back to colonial times; for example, with Gottlieb Mittelberger in the 1750s in
Pennsylvania.10 The teaching-and-parish-musician position reflected, no doubt,
the influence of Henry Melchior Muhlenberg, founder of Lutheranism in America
and an ardent champion of the pipe organ.11 Every student at Concordia was
automatically enrolled in organ lessons, which necessitated fifteen
instruments, most of them practice organs, to service a student body of 600. In
recent years, the number of students preparing for church vocations has fallen
to 40 percent of the enrollment, resulting in "excess capacity" in
pipe organ resources. The decision to sell five instruments was prompted in
part by the desire to convert one practice room into a piano studio and another
into a computer lab. This example is perhaps exceptional in view of the high
percentage of the student body using the instruments. Nevertheless, it
underscores the close relationship between enrollment and resource needs, and
how swiftly an adjustment occurs when need declines.

Kent State University

Kent State University, a public institution in northeast
Ohio, with 22,000 students, including 300 enrolled in the music department, dropped organ instruction in the spring of 1981. The number of students in the combined degree program in sacred music and applied organ performance had dropped to six, far below the number needed to justify a tenured faculty position and to continue practice room space begging for other uses.  Ironically, the school had formerly counted as its organ instructors two of the most promising young keyboard artists and teachers in the country in John Ferguson, now at St. Olaf College, and Larry Smith, now at Indiana University. The enrollment collapse was the direct result of the dismal outlook for organ graduates in the marketplace. This was confirmed in an informal survey by Dr. Walter Watson, then head of the music department, which revealed that the number of full-time organ positions in the greater New York City area, had fallen from 600 in the 1950s to between 150 and 200 in the 1980s, a situation thought to prevail throughout the country.12

The absence of supporting curricula at Kent State in
philosophy and theology to augment the sacred music degree added to the
rationale for discontinuing the program. Two small practice organs were sold to
churches and some thought has been given to selling the 20-rank studio organ
and using the proceeds to update the auditorium instrument, now in need of
restoration. In recent years the financial fortunes of the school were severely
impacted by the statewide budget crunch, which forced the music department to
cancel the marching band temporarily, to remove telephones from faculty offices
and require faculty to pay for photocopying materials for their classes. A
small foundation stipend carried them over until budgets were restored but the
organ instruction situation has not changed. This may be an extreme example of
the financial indigence of music departments, but it is certainly not an
isolated one.

University of Wisconsin, Stevens Point

The University of Wisconsin at Stevens Point is a striking
illustration of the predicament of public institutions which are acutely
sensitive to enrollment shifts and budget constraints.
style="mso-spacerun: yes">  When organ enrollment collapsed and the
organist retired, the faculty position was eliminated and the decision made to
sell the four pipe organs and channel the diminishing resources elsewhere. The
plan now is to also sell the Ronald Wahl tracker instrument and use the
proceeds to rebuild the Steinway concert grand piano. Organ programs in the majority of schools in the state university system, not including the University at Madison, are reported to be severely curtailed or defunct.

Syracuse University

In view of its stellar position in postwar graduate organ
study, the experience of Syracuse University is revealing and particularly
significant.  The Syracuse program
rose to prominence under the leadership of Arthur Poister, a much-admired
teacher and an eloquent spokesman for the organist profession, together with
his colleagues and successors Will Headlee and Donald Sutherland.
style="mso-spacerun: yes">  With the University of Michigan and the
Eastman School of Music, Syracuse shared the distinction of being three premier
graduate schools for organ study in the country. In the 1950s, the programs
benefited enormously from "degree inflation," as Headlee calls it,
which was then capturing the profession: the DMA supplanted the MMus as the
terminal degree in organ performance and became the "union card" for
an academic appointment.

The halcyon days at Syracuse were a manifestation of
promising academic job opportunities for organists, the attraction of the
trophy Holtkamp instruments in Crouse Auditorium and Hendricks Chapel, the
magnetism of Poister and his staff, and the all-important pipeline from Oberlin
to Syracuse where Poister had earlier taught. But Poister knew it couldn't
last. He often said to Headlee, "When will the bubble burst?"13 When
it did, in the late 1970s, the university moved swiftly to drastically curtail
the organ program.  Four of the six
Holtkamp "Martini" practice organs were sold.  When student credit hours plummeted to near zero, the administration elected not to replace Headlee upon his retirement and to outsource organ instruction with a part-time teacher, Katherine Pardee. She was the director of music at Hendricks Chapel whose funding is totally separate from the instructional budget of the school. The experience at Syracuse is an all-to-frequent example of how rapidly a once proud program that educated a generation of prominent teachers and performers can decline and virtually disappear.

The linkage between the initial investment and now
disinvestment decisions in pipe organs as a function of student enrollment
(demand) is an expression of the "imputation" theory of value
(zürechnung) propounded by the eminent Austrian economist Carl Menger
(1840-1921) wherein the demand (bedarf) for and value of an economic good
echoes backward into its resource base. In a market analogy, if the demand for
cigarettes falls, the demand and price for leaf tobacco declines and then the
need for and rent on tobacco growing land recedes.14

Within the music department curriculum and faculty, the
organ teacher is often odd man out. 
This sad situation is attributable to more than the decline in students
and credit hours. It is primarily a reflection of what Arthur Birkby of the
University of Wyoming calls the "softening" or "dumbing
down" of the pedagogical approach to music education.15 The contemporary
emphasis upon country, gospel, jazz and rock-based music means students have
decided that it is no longer necessary to be well-grounded in classical
precepts. Thus the core curriculum in theory, counterpoint, analysis and
composition, where the pipe organ and its music would be recognized, has been cast aside.16 Given this mindset, is it any wonder the organ is viewed today as a "fuddy duddy" instrument, as Birkby laments?  Rübsam adds that with organs and pianos being pushed into the corner in churches in favor of of electronic keyboards and all manner of audio-mixing devices, a career in church music is no longer attractive to the serious musician.

A Call to Action

In the foregoing analysis we have demonstrated how
style="mso-spacerun: yes">  economic and political realities in
higher education together with the indifference of campus leaders and state
legislatures, with their slide-rule mentality (and without shame), have
resulted in a tragic loss of recognition of the pipe organ's time-honored place
in academe. These examples of the liquidation of pipe organs are perhaps logical
and defensible in view of the vice-grip economics overshadowing our
institutions of higher learning today. Yet the impression lingers that the
decisions are based primarily on expediency and without proper recognition of
the place of the instrument among the "untouchables" which would
certainly be true of other campus jewels. One cannot imagine, for example, that
if enrollment in astronomy courses declined, the school would sell-off the
telescope and turn the observatory into a laboratory for genetic engineering.

The following are suggestions that can and must be
implemented to stem the tide of indifference, neglect and abandonment, and to
protect and promote the King of Instruments in institutional settings.

The first step is an awareness of the urgency of the problem
and the need to take determined action. Pipe organ aficionados--professors,
alumni, organists and concerned laymen--must be ready to "lie down in
front of the bulldozer" (so to speak) to stop the carnage. This begins
with periodic inquiries on the status of the organs on campus and expressions
of ongoing interest in their well-being. The "Friends of the Northrop
Organ" at the University of Minnesota, described by Charles Hendrickson in
an article in the March, 1996 edition of The Diapason, is a fine example of the
type of organization that should be established at every school.17

The organ professor must be visible, articulate, and
proactive in promoting the instrument. 
In short, he or she must become an evangelist with fire in the belly, or
as one observer said:  "The
organist has got to come out of his hole, and fight!" They must interact
more frequently with the faculty and campus at large, and use every opportunity
to make sure the organ and its music are included in applicable courses. For
example, to advance the organ as an intellectual and cultural resource to the
larger campus community the organist, in cooperation with professional
organizations, could develop a slide lecture for presentation to classes in
history (western civilization), philosophy (aesthetics), architecture,
engineering and others.

The organist should solicit a firm commitment from the
university administration to recognize and maintain the instruments on campus.
To protect the fine Holtkamp organs at Syracuse, Will Headlee orchestrated a
celebration of the Centennial of Crouse Auditorium. The Organ Historical
Society citation for "an instrument of historic merit worthy of
preservation" was read to the gathering which included the chancellor on
the platform. In responding the chancellor gave assurances that the organ was
recognized and would continue to be honored. Headlee cautions that every time
there is a changing of the guard one has to go in and sell the situation all
over again.

Yale University, under the inspired leadership of Thomas
Murray, university organist, and Nicholas Thompson-Allen and Joseph Dzeda, the
two associate organ curators, has reached out to various constituents on
campus. In a well-conceived effort to promote high visibility and awareness of the pipe organs at Yale, these men have encouraged music students, technology
classes, and other university organizations to schedule tours and
demonstrations of the instruments. Undergraduates expressing an interest in the
pipe organs and occasionally using them as a topic for a class term paper are
welcomed and given full co-operation.

During Alumni Reunion Weekend each Spring, Friday morning
and afternoon tours are conducted of the trophy Hutchings-Steere-Skinner organ
in Woolsey Hall for alumni and their families. Murray demonstrates and plays
the instrument and then the curators guide the visitors on a brief walk through
the chambers. This creates in the alumni a sense of "pride of
ownership" in the instrument and they recognize it and the other fine pipe
organs on campus as an integral part of the heart and soul of Yale University.
This effort was rewarded two years ago when an alumnus, who had joined the
group, was moved to finance the restoration of a rank of pipes which had been
taken out of the organ more than sixty years ago. 

The music department should work closely with other
departments to establish maintenance funding in the budgetary process and
encourage the administration to persuade the state legislature of the
legitimacy and necessity of maintenance allocations. At the University of
Washington, the organ professor, Carole Terry, can submit a requisition for
tuning or repairs but bureaucratic guidelines have thus far ruled out a service
contract. In an effort to confront the realities of the budgetary process and
yet find a way to work within the system, Larry Schou, at the University of
South Dakota, is attempting to consign the Skinner auditorium organ to the
music instruments museum budget to promote its restoration.

Pipe organs should be given maximum coverage in campus
publicity. This includes descriptions and photos in promotional material and
catalogs, post cards for sale in the bookstore (now at University of Wyoming),
and descriptions and comments in campus tours for visitors and prospective
students. The campus radio station could be requested to play classical organ
music every week.

The instruments can be promoted to non-music students
throughout the campus, encouraging them to sign up for lessons, perhaps by
student teachers, and practice 
time. This might include "open console," periods when
students, under the supervision of the faculty, can reserve time to play at
their leisure. Who knows, perhaps some engineering student who elects to relax
at the organ a couple of hours a week, will come back in twenty years, having
made a fortune in computers or genetics, and endow the whole department!

Given the realities of diminished funding, organ teachers
may well have to perform routine maintenance, primarily tuning but perhaps also
minor repairs. In their devotion to the instrument, they must do everything
possible to keep it playing.  When
a pipe organ is no longer playable, it is half way out the door.

As a last resort, schools may come to rely on volunteers to
keep organs playing. This has worked successfully at the University of
Minnesota where the devoted service of Gordon Schultz is well recognized.
Professional organ technicians throw up their hands at this prospect, but it
may be the only re-course. The American Theater Organ Society has been notably
successful in harnessing the skills and energies of enthusiasts. Many of their
members play a major role in the restoration and preservation of these period
instruments.

Workers and community leaders now speak of themselves as
"stakeholders" in the fortunes of the businesses and community where
they work and live, with a vested interest that transcends the exigencies of
competition and profit. Perhaps this concept should be applied in a college
setting with professors, students and alumni viewed as stakeholders in the
cultural jewels of the campus.

In a followup article the author will explore promising
developments in the academic fortunes of the pipe organ.
style="mso-spacerun: yes">  Research for this paper has disclosed
several situations where institutional recognition is encouraging, endowments
are forthcoming and student enrollment is growing. Readers who know of such
illustrations are encouraged to reply to the author on his e-mail:
[email protected]                

For research input and critical comments on earlier drafts
of this paper, the author gratefully acknowledges: Corliss Arnold, Nelson
Barden, Jack Bethards, Dean Billmeyer, Arthur Birkby, Joan DeVee Dixon, Joanne
Domb, Joseph Dzeda, John Ferguson, Laura Gayle Green, Yuko Hayashi, Will
Headlee, Herbert Huestis, Dale Jensen, the late Stephen Long, Richard
McPherson, Charles McManis, John Near, Albert Neutel, Charles Orr, Katherine
Pardee, Robert Rosen, Wolfgang Rübsam, Larry Schou, Steve Shoemaker, Albert
Smith, Larry Smith, John Chappell Stowe, Carole Terry, and Walter Watson.

Notes

                  1.
style='mso-tab-count:1'>              Campbell-Kelly, Martin ed., Charles Babbage: Passages from the Life of a Philosopher, New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 1994, Introduction and Chapter V and VII.

                  2.
style='mso-tab-count:1'>              Telephone interview with Will Headlee, July 9, 1996.

                  3.
style='mso-tab-count:1'>              Telephone interview with Albert C. Shaw, October 1, 1996.

                  4.
style='mso-tab-count:1'>              Proffitt, Steve, Interview with Judith Balfe,  "Is Support for the Arts Literally Dying Off?", Los Angeles Times, February 23, 1996, p. M-3.

                  5.
style='mso-tab-count:1'>              Veblen,
Thorstein, The Higher Learning in America:  A Memorandum on the Conduct of Universities by Business
Men,  New York:
style="mso-spacerun: yes">  B. W. Huebsch, 1918.
style="mso-spacerun: yes">  See also Joseph Dorfman, Thorstein
Veblen and His America, Seventh Edition, Clifton, N.J.: Augustus M. Kelley,
1972, pp. 234, 395-410.

                  6.
style='mso-tab-count:1'>              Interview
with John Hose and Adolph Zajic, 1964. Another was the four-manual sixty-rank
instrument for Wilson College in Chambersburg, Pennsylvania with a stoplist
designed by Virgil Fox. The famous Whitelegg diapason chorus on the erecting
room floor in Hagerstown was purchased by Trinity Methodist Church in
Youngstown, Ohio in 1942, and later incorporated in the great division of the
four-manual eighty-nine rank instrument completed in 1947. Whitelegg died in
1944. See The Diapason, August, 1937, p. 1, June, 1943, p. 22, August, 1947, p.
1.

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.

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