Two Casavant Organs, Seventy-Five Years

John-Paul Buzard Pipe Organ Builders, Champaign, Illinois

Opus 42, St. Bridget Catholic Church, Richmond, Virginia

From the builder

The new organ at St. Bridget Catholic Church in Richmond, Virginia, is the 42nd new organ to come from the workshop of John-Paul Buzard Pipe Organ Builders in Champaign, Illinois. It was completed on October 1, 2013, and inaugurated by Ken Cowan in concert on November 15.

The organ’s visual design was guided by the parish’s desire to reclaim a large stained glass window, which the former organ completely blocked. Pastor Monsignor William Carr, who began his clerical career at St. Bridget as the assistant pastor in the 1970s, remembered the beauty of the occluded window and began discussions with John-Paul Buzard in 2005 about the possibilities. The deteriorating mechanical condition and musical limitations of the previous instrument hastened the desire to proceed. The Great Recession delayed the start of the project until the parish raised all the funds to purchase the organ, as their bishop required. 

The gallery’s floor space is quite limited and the window is large. But, the church’s acoustical volume and musical needs required an instrument of a larger tonal size than that which would have been possible with a traditional design. This required some outside-the-box creative thinking, and resulted in our recommendation that the Great division be suspended over the gallery rail, and that the enclosed divisions be thought of as more a divided Swell than independent Swell and Choir divisions. Area organist Grant Hellmers was invited to consult, and enthusiastically agreed that the design met both musical and architectural requirements. The Great’s profile is kept low in order to keep this portion of the organ below the field of glass. The former heavy wood railing was replaced with a more transparent wrought-iron rail. The two enclosed divisions are located in matching cases on either side of the window. The cases’ designs utilize shapes and details found elsewhere in the Tudor-revival building. The result is that the organ cherishes the window, and the gallery and organ are architecturally integrated into the entire worship space rather than being set apart.

Executive Vice-President and Chief Engineer Charles Eames created an instrument whose physical essence truly flows from the building, therein creating room for a larger instrument than the space would have otherwise held. With the new organ in place, the gallery has an additional 100 square feet of usable floor space for the choir and other musicians, which it did not have previously.

This is indeed a three-manual organ. The three-division design evolved from the original two-manual divided Swell concept. The introduction of the 8′ Claribel Flute into what became a somewhat untraditional Choir division allowed the instrument to take on its three-manual identity. The organ exhibits a far greater variety of tone colors and pitch ranges than is typical of many instruments of its size. And it has the uncanny ability to take on the appropriate tonal characteristics of various historical and national styles to fit the character of the musical composition. All of history informs and directs us in the evolution of our singular “Classically Symphonic” tonal style.

The engineering, mechanical systems, and pipe-making all support the artistic end result. The main manual windchests are all electrically operated slider and pallet chests. The chests for the unit stops have expansion chambers built into the very thick toe-boards, to replicate the winding characteristics of the slider chests. All of the pipes are made of high tin content pipe metal, even in the bass, rather than zinc. The large pipes play promptly without having to use beards. The result is fullness and warmth without any hardness or inelegance of tone quality, all the way to the bottom of the compass.

The church’s acoustics change drastically when the room is filled with people, and the church is nearly full every time the organ is used. Tonal Director Brian Davis ably met the challenges that this condition presents by scaling and voicing the instrument for optimal performance when the room is full. The result is that the organ is never too loud, but it fills the room with sound even when played softly. An entire congregation can be supported in its singing with a single 8′ Diapason; the strings are voluptuous and shimmering; the haunting Flute Cœlestis provides an air of mystery; the Choir reeds provide some of the most beautiful cantabile colors imaginable; the smooth and stately Tuba soars above full organ. Nearly every stop can be used with any other to create a new musical color.

Superior tonal design, sensitive voicing, and painstaking tonal finishing result in the exquisite blend and balance of the individual stops and their choruses, relating to both themselves and to the room. And, as Ken Cowan demonstrated to the delight of his audience, there are many ways that this instrument can render seamless dynamic changes. As is the case with all Buzard organs, symphonic color and romantic warmth never sacrifice sprightly clarity and transparency of tone for rendering polyphonic music. 

The church’s growing music program is under the direction of Allen Bean. The children’s program, which Bean instituted and includes both boy and girl choirs, has performed at the Kennedy Center in Washington, D.C., and Alice Tully Hall in New York City.

Thanks to the staff of Buzard Pipe Organ Builders whose professionalism shines forth in all the work we undertake!

John-Paul Buzard, Artistic Director

Brian K. Davis, Tonal Director

Charles Eames, Vice President and Chief Engineer

Keith Williams, Director, Service Department

Shane Rhoades, Foreman, Production Department and Cabinetmaker

David Brown, Foreman, Service Department

Christopher Goodnight, Master Cabinetmaker

John Jordan, Service Technician

Michael Meyer, Cabinetmaker

Dennis Northway, Chicago area representative and Service Technician

Jay Salmon, Office Manager

Stuart Weber, Senior Service Technician

John Wiegand, Service Technician

Ray Wiggs, Console and Windchest specialist

Jonathan Young, Tonal Department Associate

—John-Paul Buzard

As a first-time voicer on any project, let alone one of this size, the installation of the St. Bridget’s organ was an eye-opening experience for me. The tonal design of the instrument was set before I was brought onto the Buzard team, but I had the opportunity to voice several stops under the tutelage of Tonal Director Brian Davis. Because of the acoustical characteristics of the room, the organ had to have plenty of treble ascendancy while still maintaining warm foundations and good blend. Thus, the higher pitches “sang out” a bit in the voicing room, but the effect in the church is a lively sound, not at all top-heavy but not dark or muffled.

The organ proved an overwhelming success—clear choruses and the proximity of the Great case to the seating area mean contrapuntal music can be rendered quite effectively; the variety of reed colors available lend themselves to solo work as well as forming a striking Swell reed chorus; two contrasting strings in separate boxes add variety to the foundations; and the presence of two cornets, one in the Great, enables the organ to reproduce French Classical music particularly well. However, it is equally adept at handling more modern literature and orchestral transcriptions, as was demonstrated by Ken Cowan at the inaugural recital. 

Throughout the process of voicing and tonal finishing, I was struck by how each installed stop expanded the ability of the organ as a vehicle for improvisation and interpretation of literature. The body of music this instrument will render is indeed large, and with that in mind I went back to Richmond at the beginning of November to record enough music to demonstrate some of its capabilities, including pieces by Guilmant, Langlais, de Grigny, and several major Bach works. All came off admirably, a testament to the versatility of the instrument and the integration of colors not usually found on American organs, such as the large Pedal 4′ open flute.

The St. Bridget’s organ represents a tremendous outlay of time, energy, and planning in pursuit of an instrument that will handle repertoire of any period with a clear but rich sound, and one which I hope the congregation will treasure for years to come.

—Jonathan Young, Tonal Associate

Buzard Pipe Organ Builders

From the director of music

St. Bridget Parish, a Roman Catholic parish of about 7,000 registered members, is among the largest in the Catholic Diocese of Richmond. Established in 1949, with the building completed and consecrated in 1950, the parish has thrived since its inception. 

The church building is Tudor style with Gothic elements. Seating only 500, the church provides five regular Masses every weekend to accommodate parishioners. Four Masses are led by organ and cantor, with assistance from choral ensembles. The Sunday evening Mass is led by piano, guitars, and a contemporary choir.

I became Music Minister at St. Bridget in October 2005. The primary accompanying instruments at that time were a transplanted E. M. Skinner organ, which was ¼-step flat and in need of restoration, and a mid-1920s Steinway M, also in poor condition. The Parish Adult Choir of about 20 singers sang for one Mass on Sunday morning, and the other Masses were led by volunteer cantors.

Since then, the music ministry has grown. The Parish Adult Choir has grown to 35 voices, and choirs for children (absent from the music ministry for more than 30 years) include a Boy Choir of 11 singers, and a Girl Choir of nearly 30 choristers. The Boy and Girl Choirs, using the RSCM Voice for Life Program, have established themselves as important and valued ensembles, and distinguished themselves in performances at the Kennedy Center in Washington, D.C. and Alice Tully Hall in New York City.

As the parish’s music ministry has grown, so has the need for an organ that could accompany an ever increasingly diverse music ministry, in a church whose acoustics change dramatically depending on the number of worshippers in the church.

The installation of our new instrument evolved out of conversation between Monsignor Carr and me in August 2005. The 1920s E. M. Skinner organ that so nobly served this parish since the 1970s, brought here from the now deconsecrated Monumental Church in downtown Richmond, was in need of restoration. Conversation quickly turned to action. Within a few months we had explored restoring and enlarging the Skinner organ, with additions that would give it the flexibility required for our growing program. We also received from John-Paul Buzard a proposal for a new instrument, one that would be tonally designed for our acoustical space, give us the flexibility we need to support choirs, cantors, and congregation, and uncover a great west window that is an architectural feature of the church.

The original design proposed by Mr. Buzard underwent several modifications over the following months. The stoplist was refined, as the organ became slightly smaller in scope than we originally envisioned, yet considerably more flexible. Mechanical components were also addressed in this process (another nod to flexibility), including independent swell shades on two sides of each enclosed division. The design process of this instrument was a delight for me as parish musician. The parish is forever grateful for the work of our Organ Project Consultant, Grant Hellmers, whose wisdom and experience helped define the parish’s needs in an instrument, and brought clarity to the process as St. Bridget personnel and I worked with the Buzard shop in the design phase.

Once the design was finalized, the Buzard shop began to plan the physical design of the instrument, and, under the direction of Tonal Director Brian Davis, began to envision the tonal color of each and every stop in the instrument. Mr. Davis’s ability to take the numbers that represented the (ever-changing) acoustical properties of the church, and to determine scale and timbre of each of more than 2,000 pipes in 38 ranks, producing more than 48 stops, proved to be remarkable. Charles Eames also worked magic, engineering the organ that John-Paul and Brian envisioned to fit into a relatively small space.

Several weeks of voicing accomplished by John-Paul Buzard, Brian Davis, and Jonathan Young brought St. Bridget Parish’s organ to completion. The instrument’s design, its pipes, its mechanicals, the construction of the instrument’s beautiful casework, its installation, its voicing, the work of St. Bridget Church’s own organ project committee, building committee, and staff, altogether required more than 20,000 hours of labor. I believe that even when it was labor bought and paid for, it was a labor of love, and that the Buzard shop always acted with a sense of vocation.

St. Bridget parishioners gave freely of their time to make sure the church was ready to receive the instrument. John McCulla coordinated our efforts with the Buzard shop. Richard Lewis designed the mechanical and electrical components the church provided. Terrence Kerner arranged for the addition of HVAC for the organ gallery. Patrick Ross and the St. Bridget maintenance staff were always on hand to help subcontractors and the Buzard crew with whatever they needed. These parishioners have remained involved even after the organ’s completion to assure the project is truly complete and in keeping with the church’s beautiful architecture.

Several enabling gifts allowed this project to move forward. In all, some 265 parishioners, a relatively small number of our many parishioners, made this instrument a gift to the parish. Additionally, still more parishioners have contributed to the Friends of Music Fund at St. Bridget, to enable an inaugural concert series, so that we can make it a gift to the Richmond community.

Because this platform is here for me to do so, I want to express my special gratitude to our Pastor, Monsignor Carr, who began this conversation more than eight years ago. He envisioned a pipe organ for St. Bridget Parish. He let the donors to the project know of our need. He guided Parish Council, Parish Finance Council, and all who made decisions about the organ throughout the process. And, if there is anyone who delights more in this instrument than I do, it is Monsignor Carr.

—Allen Bean

Minister of Music, St. Bridget Parish

Berghaus Pipe Organ Builders,
Bellwood, Illinois

St. Benedict’s Catholic Church,
Chesapeake, Virginia

From the builder

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

From the consultant

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

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

The goals of this project were: 

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

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

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

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

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

6) Consistent nomenclature for the instrument

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

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

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

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

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

—Peggy Kelley Reinburg

Organ Consultant

All photos credit Deborah P. Spidle except as noted

The Conference of Roman Catholic Cathedral Musicians (CRCCM) met in Washington, D.C., January 6–9 at the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception (National Shrine) for its 31st annual gathering. Members of the National Shrine’s music staff—Peter Latona, director of music; Richard Fitzgerald, associate director of music; and Benjamin LaPrairie, assistant director of music—designed and directed the conference gathering with help from the National Shrine’s support staff. Assistance was also provided by the CRCCM steering committee: Michael Batcho, director of music at the Cathedral of St. John the Evangelist, Milwaukee; Marie Rubis Bauer, director of music for the Archdiocese of Omaha and at St. Cecilia Cathedral, Omaha; Anthony DiCello, director of music at the Cathedral of St. Peter in Chains, Cincinnati; Donald Fellows, director of music at St. Paul Cathedral, Pittsburgh; Ezequiel Menéndez, director of music at the Cathedral of St. Joseph, Hartford; Christoph Tietze, director of music and organist at the Cathedral of St. Mary of the Assumption, San Francisco; Leo Nestor and Gerald Muller, advising.

Monday, January 6

Conference participants arrived in Washington and were welcomed to the National Shrine. They enjoyed open bench access to the gallery organs of the Upper Church, attended daily Mass in the Crypt Church, and toured the basilica before the meeting officially opened with evening prayer in the Crypt Church, with Monsignor Walter Rossi, rector of the National Shrine, presiding; Monsignor Charles Antonicelli, vicar for canonical services of the Archdiocese of Washington, delivered the homily; and Peter Latona, Richard Fitzgerald, Benjamin LaPrairie, and the Choir of the National Shrine provided the liturgical music. Following evening prayer, participants enjoyed refreshments and fellowship at Monsignor Rossi’s welcome reception; the CRCCM Statement of Purpose was read aloud, after which the participants introduced themselves and described their work in their cathedral churches.

The CRCCM welcomed new members and first-time conference participants for 2014: Joseph Balistreri, director of the office of worship for the Archdiocese of Detroit and co-director of music at the Cathedral of the Most Blessed Sacrament, Detroit; Robert Carr, director of music at the Cathedral of Our Lady of Lourdes, Spokane; Richard Fitzgerald, associate director of music at the National Shrine; McDowell Fogle, director of music and principal organist at the Cathedral of St. John the Baptist, Savannah; Brian Gurley, director of music and organist at the Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception, Albany, New York; Stephen Handrigan, director of the Choir School of St. Michael Cathedral, Toronto, Canada; and Mary Rooney of the Cathedral of St. John the Baptist, Savannah.

Tuesday, January 7

The day began with the Reverend Robert A. Skeris presenting a lecture, “Laus Vocalis Necessaria: The Music Must Pray, the Prayer Must Sing.” Father Skeris shared reflections on the necessary integration of musica sacra with the Logos in the liturgy: “Chant and liturgy have one nature; they belong together like belief and prayer.” Father Skeris currently serves as director of the Center of Ward Method Studies at the Benjamin T. Rome School of Music at the Catholic University of America (CUA). From 1986 to 1989, he served as professor and prefetto della casa at the Pontifical Institute of Sacred Music in Rome, Italy.

After the lecture, the day continued with a tour of the Blessed John Paul II Institute. A gift of the Archdiocese of Detroit, the institute is owned and operated by the Knights of Columbus and is currently under renovation. Jem Sullivan, director of research at the institute, led conference participants through several exhibits, including a biographical exhibit of the life of Blessed John Paul II, and an exhibit depicting the election of Pope Francis and the process of the conclave.

The conference participants met at 12:15 p.m. for midday prayer with the Dominican Friars at the Dominican House of Studies. Father James Junipero Moore, O.P., welcomed everyone in the chapel and explained some of the Dominican traditions that were manifest in the liturgy. One example was that the alternatim practice of praying the psalms includes alternate standing and sitting. Standing represents preaching, while sitting represents the reception of preaching.

Following midday prayer, Father Moore conducted a brief concert sung by the Schola Cantorum of the Dominican Friars. Repertoire included the Dominican hymn O spem miram (plainsong), Sancta et immaculata by Francisco Guerrero, and Salvation Is Created by Pavel Tchesnokov. One of the singers in the schola is an expert in Church Slavonic, so the friars learned the text and sang it in the original language. Father Moore indicated that only two or three of the friars were music majors, and that they only rehearse for one hour per week. Lunch followed at the National Shrine.

At 2 p.m., Father Moore gave a talk entitled “The Spiritual Life of the Musician” in the Dominican Rosary Chapel of the National Shrine. Among the many exhortations he made to the conference participants, Father Moore encouraged everyone to maintain an active prayer life and to avoid the sins of pride and being underprepared.

The afternoon continued with the first of two business meetings, during which Anthony DiCello presented the proposed schedules and locations of upcoming CRCCM gatherings. He also described the duties and the rotation process of the steering committee. Marc Cerisier, organist of the Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception, Memphis, Tennessee, demonstrated updates to the CRCCM website and reminded everyone that service leaflets, compositions, and other resources may be uploaded for sharing among CRCCM members. DiCello presented his project of setting the collects of the Roman Missal (3rd edition) to modern notation. These documents are available for PDF download on the website of the Athenaeum of Ohio (www.athenaeum.edu/liturgical-resources.aspx).

Following the business meeting, Richard Fitzgerald led a session on improvisation techniques on the South Gallery Organ of the National Shrine. Fitzgerald’s doctoral dissertation at the Peabody Institute focused on improvisation techniques; he shared original musical examples as well as templates from organ literature, which can provide the basis for improvisation in liturgy. Workshop participants included Ricardo Ramirez, director of music and organist at Holy Name Cathedral, Chicago, Illinois, Joseph Balistreri, and Brian Gurley.

Conference participants enjoyed fellowship at the Washington Court Hotel lobby and bar and found dinner on their own.

Wednesday, January 8

The first event of the morning was a lecture-presentation by Bertrand Cattiaux, organ builder and Curator of Organs at the Cathedral of Notre Dame in Paris, France. Cattiaux surveyed six centuries of French organ building, incorporating audio and visual examples in his thorough presentation.

The morning continued with a lecture given by the Reverend Monsignor Kevin Irwin, entitled “What We Have Done and What We Have Failed To Do,” focusing on state of liturgical and musical reforms since the Second Vatican Council. Monsignor Irwin invited his audience to consider whether or not the liturgical music prepared in their cathedrals fits the liturgy of the Roman Rite. He proposed a reexamination of repertoires consisting primarily of Protestant hymnody—which tend to be didactic in nature—at the expense of the proper antiphons of the Gradual. Monsignor Irwin is a priest of the Archdiocese of New York and served as dean of the School of Theology and Religious Studies at the Catholic University of America from 2005–2011. He currently holds the Walter J. Schmitz Chair of Liturgical Studies. His latest book, What We Have Done and What We Have Failed To Do (2014), assesses the liturgical reforms of Vatican II and is available through Paulist Press.

At 12:15 p.m., Richard Fitzgerald presented a lunchtime organ recital at St. John’s Church, Lafayette Square. Fitzgerald’s program consisted of varied improvisations inspired by the stained glass windows of St. John’s Church. Following the recital, Benjamin Hutto, organist and director of music ministry at St. John’s Church, welcomed CRCCM conference participants and gave a brief tour of the 2009 Lively-Fulcher organ. 

At 3 p.m., the conference participants visited Washington National Cathedral (WNC). Director of music, Canon Michael McCarthy, led a workshop,  “Techniques for the Choral Conductor,” in the lower chapel of WNC. McCarthy encouraged participants to maintain vocal health and to seek periodic vocal instruction and coaching, which would strengthen their work with their own choirs.

At 5:15 p.m., Monsignor Rossi celebrated Mass and preached in the Crypt Church of the National Shrine, during which prayers were offered for deceased members of the CRCCM. As is custom, the CRCCM necrology was read during the Universal Prayer. Liturgical music (Lassus, Kyrie from Missa Quinti toni; Clemens non Papa, Magi viderunt stellam; Friedell, Song of Mary) was provided by Peter Latona, Richard Fitzgerald, Benjamin LaPrairie, and the Choir of the National Shrine.

Following Mass, the Choir of the National Shrine presented a concert entitled “Moveable Feasts: Sacred Music for the Church Year.” The program included the Epiphany Proclamation for 2014, with repertoire selected for each feast. Repertoire included works by Whitacre, Dove, Palestrina, Lukaszewski, L’héritier, Allegri, Stanford, Mendelssohn, Harris, Byrd, and Vierne (organ). Peter Latona conducted the choir, and Benjamin LaPrairie accompanied from the Crypt Church’s 1987 Schudi organ. 

Thursday, January 9

Thursday morning began with the second of two business meetings, held in the chapel of the Theological College of CUA. Gerald Muller, director of music at the Theological College (TC), described the musical and liturgical formation of the seminary students. During the meeting, participants suggested possible programs or scholarships that CRCCM could fund and oversee. These would be especially focused on the formation of future church musicians. Additional agenda items included the nomination of CRCCM members to the steering committee, as well as further discussion of possible locations for future conference meetings.

The business meeting was followed by the composers’ reading session, also held in the TC Chapel. Participants were joined by members of the Choir of the National Shrine to read through new compositions.

Later Thursday morning, Grayson Wagstaff, professor of music, director of the Latin American Music Center, and dean of the Benjamin T. Rome School of Music at CUA, gave a lecture-presentation on the influence of the Spanish Renaissance on the sacred music of the New World. Wagstaff surveyed the latest scholarship on the topic, which has attracted the attention of many musicologists in recent years. He discussed evidence of Spanish Salve services, which were devoted to the Blessed Virgin Mary and resulted in a great number of settings of the Marian votive antiphon Salve Regina. Wagstaff encouraged the continued pursuit of this scholarship, since it presents an opportunity to help people appreciate historically important music that is intimately tied to Hispanic liturgical, musical, and cultural heritage. 

Johann Vexo, choir organist at the Cathedral of Notre Dame, Paris, presented a survey of sacred liturgical music at Notre Dame. He described the responsibilities of the organists, the singing practices at cathedral liturgies, and the Choir School. Later that evening, Vexo played a brilliant program of French masterworks on the organs of the Upper Church at the National Shrine; repertoire included music of Vierne, Franck, Dupré, and Duruflé. Prior to the concert, Robert Grogan, carillonneur and organist emeritus of the National Shrine, gave a prelude concert on the carillon of the Knights of Columbus bell tower. Repertoire included carillon literature and works arranged for carillon.

Conference participants enjoyed an elegant closing banquet at Johnny’s Half-Shell, located on North Capitol Street NW. Sincere gratitude and appreciation were extended to Peter Latona, Richard Fitzgerald, and Benjamin LaPrairie for hosting a very successful week.

The 2015 meeting of the CRCCM will take place in the Twin Cities of Minneapolis-St. Paul, Minnesota. It will be hosted by the Basilica of St. Mary (Minneapolis) and the Cathedral of St. Paul (St. Paul) in conjunction with the Cathedral Ministries Convention. 

The secret of life

Donald Hall is an American writer. Because he’s Wendy’s client, I’ve met him several times. He was born in 1928 and last saw a barber or handled a razor at least ten years ago. He published an essay in the June 12, 2013, issue of The New Yorker with the title “Three Beards,” in which he chronicled his long relationship with facial hair. It begins:

In my life I have grown three beards, covering many of my adult faces. My present beard is monumental, and I intend to carry it to my grave. (I must avoid chemotherapy.)

It concludes: 

As I decline more swiftly toward the grave I have made certain that everyone knows—my children know, Linda knows, my undertaker knows—that no posthumous razor may scrape my blue face.

In 2011, Wendy accompanied Hall to the White House, where President Obama awarded him the National Medal of Arts. (That’s the same day she chatted with Van Cliburn, as noted in the May 2014 installment of this column.) The neatly trimmed and dapper President met the self-styled Methuselah. 

Donald Hall lives in the New Hampshire farmhouse that was built by his grandfather, whom he helped harvesting hay. Today, hay is harvested by powerful and intricate machines that spit out neatly tied bales in the wake of a tractor. (Hay bales are legitimately held together with baling wire.) Donald Hall, then a child, and his grandfather did it with scythes, pitchforks, and horse-drawn carts. And that’s the way he writes—the old-fashioned way.

He has published dozens of books of poetry, and dozens more of non-fiction, memoirs, and collections of essays. He has written hundreds of articles of literary criticism and countless essays for many publications. And his lifelong collection of thousands of letters to and from other literary and artistic giants will be the grist of many future dissertations. He writes in longhand and dictates into a tape recorder, and leaves a briefcase on his front porch every morning for his typist who lives across the road, who in turn leaves a corresponding case of typed manuscripts.

When we were first dating, Wendy shared Donald Hall’s memoir Life Work with me (Beacon Press, 1993). At 124 pages, it’s an easy read, but when he describes his process, you feel obligated to read it again, and then again. He writes drafts. There were fifty-five drafts of that essay about beards, and there are hundreds of drafts for some of his poems. He started working on his poem Another Elegy in 1982, and put it away, disgusted, in 1988 after more than five hundred drafts. He numbers the drafts. In 1992, he picked it up again, wrote thirty more drafts, then showed it to his wife, the poet Jane Kenyon, “who remembered the old one; her response encouraged me.” As he brought it toward conclusion, he woke many days before the alarm, jumping out of bed to start writing, but reminding himself that “You felt like this, about this same poem, a hundred times between 1982 and 1988.”

In Life Work, Donald Hall writes about his grandparents’ work ethics, about baseball players’ dedication to their work, and of course about his own routine, but he makes it clear that hates the phrase “work ethic.” Shortly after leaving the security of a professorship at the University of Michigan to move to the farm with Jane to support himself with his own writing, he attended his Harvard class (1951) reunion where he found himself complimented over and over about his self-discipline. He responded, “If I loved chocolate to distraction, would you call me self-disciplined for eating a pound of Hershey’s Kisses before breakfast?” He simply loves the process of moving words about, mining the English language, dog-earing his beloved Oxford English Dictionary—no matter what it takes to get it right to his own ears.

One of the principal characters in Life Work is the British sculptor Henry Moore. They met in 1959 when Hall was commissioned to write a magazine piece about Moore, and Hall was moved and inspired by Moore’s approach to his work. There was always a sketchpad at hand, there were studios scattered about the property allowing work at different stages to proceed concurrently, and when in his seventies, Moore built a new studio next to the house allowing him to spend another hour at work after dinner. The last time they were together, when Moore was eighty, Hall asked him, “What is the secret of life?” Moore’s response:

“The secret of life is to have a task, something you devote your entire life to, something you bring everything to, every minute of the day for your entire life. And the most important thing is—it must be something you cannot possibly do!”

Wrapped around a monument

Last week, the Parisian organist Daniel Roth played a recital at Church of the Resurrection in New York where a couple years ago, the Organ Clearing House renovated, expanded, and installed a Casavant organ built in 1915. It was a treat and a thrill to be around him for a couple days as he prepared and presented his program, and I particularly enjoyed a conversation in which he gave some deeper insight into the heritage of the magnificent Cavaillé-Coll organ at St. Sulpice in Paris, where he has been titulaire since 1985. His three immediate predecessors were Jean-Jacques Grunenwald, Marcel Dupré, and Charles-Marie Widor—four tenures that span nearly a hundred-fifty years. 

Those four organists are identified by their relationships with that organ. Their improvisations and compositions have been inspired by its beautiful tones and enabled by the ingenious mechanical registration devices built in 1862, maintained to this day in their original condition. Roth confirmed the legend that Widor’s original appointment was temporary, and though it was never officially renewed or confirmed, he held the position for sixty-seven years. I’ve known this tidbit for years, but Daniel Roth shared some skinny.

Aristide Cavaillé-Coll was a tireless champion of his own work. He was disappointed in the general level of organ playing in Paris in the late 1860s, but was enthralled by performances by Jacques-Nicolas Lemmens, the professor of organ at the Royal Conservatory of Brussels, who first played recitals in Paris during a tour in 1850. Widor was born in Lyon into a family of organbuilders and Cavaillé-Coll was a family friend. It was he who arranged for Widor to study with Lemmens, and the twenty-five year old Widor was Cavaillé-Coll’s candidate for the vacant position at St. Sulpice.

As a reflection of the political and even racial tensions leading up to the Franco-Prussian War (1870–1871), Widor’s detractors competing for the important position claimed he played like a German! (Quelle horreur!) The rector compromised by appointing Widor for one year.

Hundreds of American organists have been treated to Daniel Roth’s hospitality at the console of that landmark organ, hearing his improvisations and compositions, and his interpretations of the immense body of music produced by his predecessors. My conversations with him last week reminded me of that quote from Henry Moore. When a great musician spends a lifetime with a great organ, does that qualify as something to which you devote your life, but cannot possibly do?

Opera vitae

The mid-twentieth century renaissance in American organbuilding has given us a bevy of small companies building organs under the name of their founders. Among these, C. B. Fisk, Inc. is notable, in that the legendary Charlie Fisk passed away relatively young, and the work of his company has been continued by his co-workers—dare I say disciples? But when I think of names like Wolff, Wilhelm, Noack, Brombaugh, and the double-teaming Taylor & Boody, I think of these men, now elderly, retired, or deceased, who have had long careers personally producing many instruments with the help of their small and talented staffs. I think Fritz Noack is in the lead. His company was founded in 1960 and has completed nearly 160 organs. Nice work, Fritz, quite a fleet. Imagine seeing them all in a row. 

Considering all the effort and expertise involved in selling, planning, designing, building, and installing a pipe organ, I marvel at what Fritz and his colleagues have accomplished personally, with a lot of help from their friends. That’s work to which you devote your life, but cannot possibly do.

What was the question?

An old family friend is an expert in “heat transfer”—how heat moves from one mass to another, from a mass to a gas, or any other way heat moves around. One evening sitting with drinks in my parents’ living room and staring at the burning fireplace, I asked him, “Just what is fire?” He told me that it’s a chemical reaction. Yes, but what is it? I never did get an answer I could understand. I think he thought I was a bit of a prig, and I think I was asking a question that couldn’t be answered.

The more you know about the organbuilding trade, the more you realize you don’t know. Building pipe organs is a profession that remains mysterious to its most experienced practitioners. How does that air get from one place to another inside the organ? How does that thin sheet of pressurized air passing through the mouth of an organ pipe turn into musical tone? And how do those tones blend so beautifully with each other? How do we move such volumes of air silently? We have answers that refer to the laws of physics, but like my question about fire, they seem unanswerable. I’ve come to think that all you can do is know the questions and keep working to achieve better understanding of how to answer them. It’s work to which you devote your life, but cannot possibly do.

Go Daddy, go.

My father passed away at home on April 8, about six weeks shy of his ninetieth birthday. He was born four years before Donald Hall. He had a stroke a few months before from which he had largely recovered, although the gorgeous handwriting for which he was well known was gone. A vicious headache, which may have been another stroke, was our signal that the end was near. His doctor helped us establish home hospice care, and after about a week of comforting medication and declining consciousness he was gone. My three siblings and I, and our spouses, managed to gather during that week along with lots of the grandchildren. My brother Mark and his wife Sarah, my wife Wendy, and my mother Betsy were with Dad at his moment of death. Coincidentally, I was at work in St. Paul’s Cathedral in Boston, where my parents were married almost fifty-nine years ago.

The Rev. John J. Bishop was ordained an Episcopal priest in the Diocese of Massachusetts in 1952, and all the parishes he served were in that diocese. Everyone called him Jack. He served as rector of churches in Somerville and Westwood before he was called to be rector of the Parish of the Epiphany in Winchester, where he served from 1966 until his retirement in 1989. That was when my parents moved to the newly renovated and expanded family summer home on Cape Cod. After that retirement, he served as interim rector at churches in Dedham, Woods Hole, Falmouth, Provincetown, and Belmont. In December of 2012, the Parish of the Epiphany hosted a celebratory Eucharist honoring the sixtieth anniversary of his ordination.

My father grew up in Cincinnati, Ohio, as a member of Christ Church, which is now the Cathedral of the Diocese of Southern Ohio. Our grand colleague and mentor Gerre Hancock was organist and choirmaster there in the 1960s. Dad had recordings of that church’s Boar’s Head Festival led by Gerre Hancock—the first improvisations I ever heard. As he grew up in Ohio in the 1920s and ’30s, some of the liberal causes for which he was later known hadn’t been contemplated, but before he was finished, my father had championed civil rights, social justice, the ordination of women, and
same-sex marriages.

The Rev. Jeanne Sprout was the first woman to be ordained in the Diocese of Massachusetts. Her ordination in 1977 happened at the Parish of the Epiphany in Winchester as she joined the staff there. And Dad chaired the steering committee that nominated Barbara Harris as the first female bishop in the Anglican Communion. As interim rector in Provincetown, he blessed same-sex unions many years before the ruling of the Massachusetts Supreme Judicial Court that made them legal as marriages ten years ago. During his adolescence in Ohio and while serving in the United States Army during World War II, he would never have imagined such a thing.

At the height of the Vietnam War, the parish’s associate rector Michael Jupin participated in a widely reported protest on the steps of Boston’s Arlington Street Church, placing his draft card in an offering plate in the hands of William Sloane Coffin, pastor of New York’s Riverside Church, and activist and pediatrician Benjamin Spock. This created a firestorm in the then conservative parish (Winchester was cited as the town where the politics met the zip code: Zero-1890). The wardens approached my father, demanding to know “how to get rid of Jupin,” as important pledge-units left the parish in droves. Dad’s immediate answer was, “you get rid of the rector.” He told us later about that crisis in his career and the life of that church, how he sat alone in his car weeping, wondering what to do, and how he sought the council of his bishop, who encouraged him to “stand in the midst of those people and lead.”

Through all of that, Dad remained devoted to the traditions and liturgy of the Anglican Communion. He was a strong supporter of the music of the church, and during his tenures, the parishes in Westwood and Winchester both purchased organs from Charles Fisk. I remember the thrill of using my newly acquired adult voice, singing in harmony accompanied by orchestra as the adult choir presented Bach’s Cantata 140, Wachet auf, ruft uns die Stimme. 

Dad understood the importance of the “theater” of liturgy. My childhood friends who were acolytes laugh today about how they were terrified of “blowing it” around Rev. Bishop. He needed it to be right. He led worship and celebrated the Eucharist with enthusiasm and joy—his “church voice” was nothing like his everyday voice. The crisp cadence and musical intonation of his delivery of the Prayers of Consecration are still in my ears, and remain my ideal. He really celebrated communion.

I’ve spent many days working as an organbuilder in churches of the Episcopal Diocese of Massachusetts. Often, when I’m introduced to a rector, I’ve heard, “There’s a priest in this diocese with that name,” followed by unsolicited tributes. It’s been wonderful to hear accounts of my father’s work from so many different sources. I’m grateful for Dad’s encouragement and inspiration.

What a weekend.

Today is Monday. Dad’s memorial service was Saturday. There were four bishops and twenty priests in robes up front and the pews were full of family, friends, and parishioners from across the diocese and around the world, and plenty more priests. In a piece included in the leaflet for Dad’s memorial service, I wrote, “The definition is ‘Great excitement for or interest in a cause.’ It’s from the Greek root, enthousiasmos, which came from the adjective entheos, ‘having God within.’ Enthusiasm.” That is the way he lived his life, inspiring people, encouraging them to think and grow, and sharing his love for the church, for better or for worse.

That’s work to which you devote your life, but cannot possibly do.

Of course I’m sad. Of course I miss him. But when a man lives such a long and productive life, has nearly sixty years of marriage, sees four children grow up, knows ten adult grandchildren, and with our grandson Ben, knew his first great-grandchild, we can only be grateful.

Yesterday, we interred Dad’s ashes. There were about thirty of us at the end of the boardwalk over the marshes that led to Dad’s favorite Cape Cod swimming hole. As the last of the ashes sprinkled into the water I blurted out, “Go daddy, go.” ν

Oberlin’s Organ Tour de France

Despite the best efforts of Winter Storm Hercules, all but one of our group of seventeen made it to Paris’s Charles de Gaulle Airport as scheduled on Friday, January 3. Once we had gathered our luggage, we headed off to our first point of interest: a cemetery . . . where else!?

The cemetery at Montparnasse is the final resting place of a number of notable figures from French history and culture. Among the graves we visited were those of Jean-Paul Sartre, Louis Vierne, César Franck, and the tombs of the Cavaillé-Coll, Saint-Saëns, and Guilmant families. Interestingly enough, while the map at the entrance to the cemetery (marking the burial locations of those considered worthy of listing) includes Aristide Cavaillé-Coll, César Franck, and Camille Saint-Saëns, Louis Vierne and Alexandre Guilmant were not listed. Fortunately, Professor James David Christie knew where they were and many a photograph was taken!

We then took the wonderful Train à Grande Vitesse (TGV)—France’s high-speed rail service—for a three-and-a-half-hour trip to Bordeaux where, after a glass (or two!) of wine, we rested in preparation for what would be a life-changing two weeks for all involved.

Bordeaux

The next morning, we rose early and made our way to the eleventh-century abbey of Sainte-Croix, home to the only remaining instrument of Dom Bedos, a monk and secretary of the abbey as well as a mathematician, clock builder, and author of the monumental treatise The Organ-Maker’s Art. We gathered in the large church as Professor Christie demonstrated the instrument with Louis Marchand’s Grand Dialogue in C. It was clear from the first few notes on the mighty reed chorus, the Grand Jeu, that this organ was to set the tone (no pun intended!) for our entire visit. It is impossible to describe just how powerful this instrument is—it must be heard to be believed. The entire space was filled with a raw brilliance supported by one of the finest acoustics I have ever experienced. Next we heard the instrument’s other “big” chorus—the Grand Plein Jeu—made up of foundations and mixtures. On this instrument the Grand Plein Jeu is built on a 32′ foundation and its 23 ranks of mixtures produce thrilling and rich sound.

The original instrument was constructed in 1748; during the nineteenth century it was moved to the cathedral in Bordeaux and tonally romanticized, while the organ’s case remained in the abbey church, now fitted with the former cathedral organ. Thankfully, the organ was saved in the second half of the twentieth century and restored and returned to the abbey church, with Dom Bedos’s aforementioned treatise acting as an incredibly detailed guide as to what should be done. As part of this restoration, the red paint that then covered the case was stripped, initially so that the case could be repainted. In the process, the instrument’s original green was revealed along with the beautiful stop labeling at the console. As a result, we have today one of the finest and most aurally and visually beautiful organs in all of Europe, if not the world.

After hearing the instrument in the church, we made our way up to the large organ gallery, walking through the enormous blower room (where, before electricity, the instrument required seven people to pump it!), eventually arriving at the exquisite five-manual console: Positif de dos; Grand-Orgue; Bombarde; Récit; Echo. The Positif de dos and Grand-Orgue contain the majority of stops. The Bomdarde contains only two large reed stops—this was for practical reasons concerning the winding of the instrument. Nevertheless, the Bombarde can be coupled down to the Grand-Orgue to create an astonishing Grand Jeu chorus built on the 16′ reed. This is neither common nor necessarily appropriate for a majority of the so-called French Classical repertoire, but used judiciously and in the right pieces, this registration creates one of the greatest sounds in all organ music.

Perhaps the most “alien” aspect of the French Classical organ is the Pédale division. Unlike its German or Dutch counterparts, the pedalboard and stops of a French Classical instrument are not designed for counterpoint, but to provide a bass part centered around an 8′ flute pitch (with occasional 16′ pitch added by use of manual couplers) or to play the cantus firmus on the 8′ Trompette, accompanied by the Plein Jeu of the manuals. In the case of the Sainte-Croix Dom Bedos, the Pédale division has both flue and reed stops at 16′ pitch as well, but this was by no means common. We all had some challenges negotiating the odd pedalboard at Sainte-Croix: not only was its design different from anything else we had ever encountered, its compass stretched down to F below the C where modern pedalboards stop. This meant that no note was where we thought it should be! That being said, the mighty 16′ Pédale Bombarde extended down to low A, allowing Bach’s French-inspired Pièce d’orgue, BWV 572, with the usually unplayable low B in the middle section, to be played on this instrument. As with everything on this organ, the sound of these low reed notes was something to experience!

We were incredibly fortunate to spend the entire day and much of the evening with this wonderful instrument and were soon to discover that the organ’s uncompromising mechanical action and the church’s glorious acoustic could teach us a great deal about how to play—certainly something that would be a recurring theme throughout the trip. I should also mention that the food and wine in Bordeaux were exquisite, and I could not help but think of Julia Child—it was easy to see why she fell in love with French cuisine!

The next morning, a number of the group attended Sunday Mass at Sainte-Croix. Titular organist Paul Goussot, a winner of the improvisation prize at St. Albans in 2011, and the winner of the Haarlem International Organ Improvisation Competition in 2012, improvised brilliantly during the Mass. 

Then we took the train to the city of Toulouse, in southwest France, near the Spanish border. Toulouse is, without a doubt, one of the great organ “capitals” of the world, and we had four days to explore some of its treasures.

Toulouse

Following a wonderful supper of bread, cheese, foie gras, and “king’s cakes” (in honor of the Epiphany) at the home of Michel Bouvard, as well as a private fortepiano performance by Madame Yasuko Bouvard, we made our way to the stunning Romanesque Basilica of Saint-Sernin, where Professor Bouvard is titulaire. The organ, built in 1889, was among the last instruments of Aristide Cavaillé-Coll and, for many of us, the first Cavaillé-Coll we had ever encountered “in the flesh.” Although based in Paris for most of his professional career, Aristide Cavaillé-Coll was originally from Toulouse and came from a family of organ builders. From the age of twenty, he worked with his father; this included restoring a number of instruments in Spain. The Spanish influence can be seen in a number of Cavaillé-Coll’s instruments that make use of en chamade reeds, and Saint-Sernin is no exception.

Saint-Sernin is a vast church with an incredibly long nave extending into a choir that certainly had an influence on Cavaillé-Coll’s concept for the organ. There is one word to describe the tutti of the Saint-Sernin Cavaillé-Coll: TERRIFYING! The huge wall of sound produced was definitely intended to travel from the organ gallery to the high altar, and it does so with ease. That being said, Professor Bouvard treated us to a spectacular performance of César Franck’s Grand Pièce Symphonique in which we also heard the more lyrical side of this outstanding organ.

Every evening during our time in Toulouse, we had unfettered access to the organ in Saint-Sernin, which, while very different from the Dom Bedos in Bordeaux, also had a great deal to teach. Much of the time was spent adjusting to the large space, Barker-lever action, and a very heavy swell shoe! As was the case with nearly all the organs we played, “inflicting one’s self” was not an option—you had to listen, feel, and respond to what the instrument and room were telling you in order to achieve the most satisfying musical results. It was also huge fun to “let rip” on full organ, although after 11 p.m. the tutti had to be used sparingly owing to its audibility throughout most of the surrounding area.

While the name of Cavaillé-Coll is well known among organists throughout the world, the name of Théodore Puget is perhaps not quite so well known. . . but it should be! We encountered two instruments by the Toulouse-based organ builder in his native city: Notre Dame du Taur—Puget’s first large instrument in the city, inaugurated by Guilmant in 1880; and Notre Dame de la Dalbade, inaugurated by Widor in 1888. We were all in awe of these exceptionally fine instruments placed in churches with glorious acoustics. In contrast to the fiery directness of the Cavaillé-Coll in Saint-Sernin that bellows “I’m here,” the two Puget instruments enveloped the listener with a far warmer sound. While perfect for the music of the great French Romantic composers, it was unfortunate that none of us had brought along any Howells or Whitlock, which would work equally well. Sadly, Puget never built a major instrument in Paris owing to Cavaillé-Coll’s monopoly in that city.

We also spent time at the church of Saint-Pierre des Chartreux, home to a four-manual French Classical instrument dating from 1683, with rebuilds in 1783 and 1983. While more modest in scale than the instrument at Sainte-Croix, it was perfectly suited to the ornate Baroque church and gave us another chance to work on our French-Classical pedaling!

On the evening of Wednesday, January 8, four students—Nicholas Capozzoli, Mitchell Miller, Alcee Chris, and I—performed a short concert at the Musée des Augustins. This former monastery, which was used to store horses during the French Revolution, became a museum in the nineteenth century and is home to a North-German influenced organ built in 1981 by Jürgen Ahrend. It was here that we probably encountered the largest acoustic of our entire visit—nine seconds, which would have been closer to twelve were it not for an exhibition at the back of the space.

This was followed by a visit and reception held at Toulouse les Orgues, headquarters for the annual organ festival that brings countless organ enthusiasts to visit the numerous musical masterpieces of this city. The festival staff, headed by Yves Rechsteiner, is housed in the former Church of the Gesu, a stunning Victorian Gothic edifice. The rear gallery of the nave houses a modest two-manual Cavaillé-Coll organ in absolutely original condition.

The next day we took the train to Albi, whose cathedral dedicated to St. Cecilia—claimed to be the largest brick building in the world—is home to one of the most impressive organ cases in Europe. At the neighboring (and considerably smaller) church of Saint-Salvy, parts of which date back to the eighth century, we heard the 1930 Maurice (grandson of Théodore) Puget organ. While containing some seventeenth-century pipework and being housed in the original case (which had once been in the cathedral) this was certainly a twentieth-century instrument in the French-Romantic style.

We then returned to Toulouse; a small group of us visited the church of Saint- Nicholas, home to an 1844 organ by Callinet. This was certainly one of the hidden gems of the trip—an instrument indebted to its French-Classical predecessors, but also looking forward to the larger romantic instruments that would follow it, particularly in its foundation and solo voices.

We then took the TGV to the city of Poitiers—the birthplace of Louis Vierne. We made our way to the beautiful cathedral, home to the 1791 François-Henri Clicquot organ—one of the crown jewels of all the organs in France. Compared with the “rustic” and almost bombastic Dom Bedos in Bordeaux, this instrument was incredibly refined, with a sweet, singing tone, even in the Grand Jeu. It was therefore not surprising to learn that this is the same Clicquot family who make the famous Veuve Clicquot champagne—everything about the instrument suggested elegance and class. Our gracious host was the cathedral organist, Olivier Houette. A couple of hours later we arrived in Paris, where we were to spend the remainder of our visit. 

The next morning we took a train to the small town of Houdan, about 40 miles west of Paris, to visit the church of Saint-Christophe Saint-Jacques and play the church’s Louis-Alexandre Clicquot (father of François-Henri) organ. This was certainly an unexpected highlight of the whole trip: the instrument has remained almost completely untouched since it was built in 1734, with some of the pipework dating from as far back as 1667, making it one of the most ancient instruments in France. Sadly, this is only one of a handful of such instruments in the Paris area that survived the French Revolution. The sound of the instrument was absolutely exquisite and it was a joy to play; the pitch (ca. A=390) and meantone temperament added additional spice and color. Its modest size also made it particularly suited to playing the works of earlier French Classical composers such as Guillaume-Gabriel Nivers, François Couperin, and Nicolas de Grigny (to name but a few), despite having been constructed relatively late in the period. The organ was demonstrated by its titulaire, Régis Allard. In addition to its delightful organ, Saint-Christophe Saint-Jacques also had the distinction of being the coldest church we had visited to date, making all that French ornamentation a little tricky!

On our return to Paris, we stopped in Versailles. After a private tour of the King’s and Queen’s Apartments and the Hall of Mirrors, our host and organist of the Royal Chapel at Versailles, Jean-Baptiste Robin, gave us a wonderful demonstration of the 1994 Bertrand Cattiaux organ, which is housed in the original and lavish 1709 case. Although a modern instrument, it is a faithful reconstruction of what would have reigned supreme in the early eighteenth century. Sadly, the original Robert Clicquot of 1711 was subjected to a number of changes over the centuries eventually being replaced by a Cavaillé-Coll which was, in turn, rebuilt by Gonzales. 

The chapel itself is a fascinating space, and it would be impossible to describe in words just how beautiful and ornate it is. For one, there are no “hard” edges—everything, including the organ case, is curved—quite a contrast to the more conservative cases in Houdan and Poitiers. Unusually, the organ is above the altar, but it is customary in French churches for the organ to be behind the congregation, and in the Royal Chapel, the congregation faced the King, who would be seated in a gallery at the back of the chapel, facing the altar and the organ. Jean-Baptiste also informed us that the Holy Trinity is very important to French Roman Catholics and drew our attention to a number of allusions to the Holy Trinity in the Royal Chapel. He went onto say that it is perhaps not coincidental that the French-inspired organ works of J. S. Bach, namely Pièce d’orgue, BWV 572, and the Prelude and Fugue in E-flat, BWV 552, can also be viewed in a Trinitarian light.

Paris

On our only Sunday in Paris, we were encouraged to attend Mass at one of the city’s many churches. While some opted to go to Notre Dame or Saint-Sulpice, a few of us went to the church of Saint-Gervais, perhaps most famous for its association with the Couperin family who served as organists of the church for almost 200 years. The church was full for this celebration of the Mass in French. One of the most pleasant surprises was the music: although the organ provided a number of interludes at certain points of the liturgy in a variety of styles, a majority of the service was sung without accompaniment. While the singing was led by a large chorus of nuns, it was wonderful to hear the congregation joining in enthusiastically. Perhaps the most unusual, yet incredibly effective and beautiful moment of the service was during the Eucharistic prayer, when the clergy around the altar started singing in three-part harmony, accompanied by slow moving chords hummed by the nuns. It was nice to be involved in a real French parish Mass and to see that, although very different to what the Couperins would have known, music still plays an important part in the life of the parish.

Later that afternoon we made our way to La Madeleine for an organ recital performed by Vincent Grappy. It was quite a welcome surprise to see the church almost full—several even likened the audience size to an AGO convention recital. This magnificent church is perhaps most famous for hosting the premiere of Fauré’s Requiem, and we even had a chance to briefly glance at the intact Cavaillé-Coll choir organ which was used at that performance. 

Following the recital, it was time to make our pilgrimage to perhaps one of the most famous and important (especially for organists) Parisian churches—Saint- Sulpice. We received a warm welcome from the present titulaire, Daniel Roth, one of a line of distinguished musicians who have held this important and coveted post. Both Guillaume-Gabriel Nivers and Louis-Nicolas Clérambault were organists there, although neither knew the present building that was commenced in the middle of the 17th century and finally completed 100 years later. The great five-manual, 64-stop organ by François-Henri Clicquot was dedicated in 1781. It was reported that Clicquot was so happy with the results that he danced for joy during the dedication, and the organ became very famous throughout Europe. The organ survived the French Revolution in 1789 thanks to a blind organ pumper who, wishing to save the instrument, cleverly stamped the official seal of the government on the door to the gallery, making it seem as though that part of the church had already been inspected and approved.

Mendelssohn visited the church in 1833, and it was clear that the organ was in desperate need of restoration, with the renowned composer likening its sound to a choir of old women! In 1835, the builder Callinet began a restoration project that took ten years; it was ultimately unsuccessful and left him bankrupt. In 1854, one of the priests at Saint-Sulpice, a great admirer and friend of Aristide Cavaillé-Coll, declared that such a beautiful church needed two beautiful organs. And so it was that Cavaillé-Coll began work on the instrument in 1857. When it was completed five years later it was one of the three largest organs in the world. By retaining all of the Clicquot stops—which account for about 40 percent of the instrument—Cavaillé-Coll not only demonstrated his respect for the craft of his predecessors but also created an instrument that successfully melds old and new styles into a coherent whole.

If there was one thing we learned about Cavaillé-Coll, it was that he was a consummate artist whose concept was perfectly suited to the space for which it was intended. While he had very little to do with the actual building of his instruments, the concepts were his and he knew just whom to employ to get the results he wanted. This project was clearly very important to Cavaillé-Coll: following the aborted Callinet project that had cost the church a fortune, with nothing to show for it, Cavaillé-Coll’s initial proposal was for a four-manual, 74-stop instrument. Over time, the instrument grew larger with the addition of a fifth manual and 26 more stops—none of which had been contracted or paid for. It is no surprise that Cavaillé-Coll was often close to bankruptcy with many of his projects, but if he had not cared so much, we probably would not have some of the great instruments we have today.

After Saint-Sernin, we were all rather surprised at how elegant and soft-spoken the Saint-Sulpice Cavaillé-Coll was in comparison, even the tutti. The overall tone was darker and more rounded than Saint-Sernin, and this seemed totally in tune with the majestic building, creating a wash of sound that filled the room rather than launching a battery of sound directly to the other end of it. Another contributing factor to the sound is the enormous case, with its huge 32′ façade pipes and colossal statues, keeping the sound contained to a certain extent.

Finally, a lucky few had the opportunity to play the instrument, and it was such a privilege to be able to hear the sounds Widor and Dupré knew and worked with. I played Dupré’s exquisite Prelude and Fugue in F minor, op. 7, no. 2. I had been warned that after playing this piece at Saint-Sulpice it would be difficult to play it anywhere else, and after hearing the first few sixteenth notes of the Prelude, on the 8′ Gamba and 2′ Octavin of the distant Récit, I understood—the eerie sound combined with the building’s acoustic was like nothing I had ever encountered before.

The vast five-manual console required some getting used to; the Récit is the fourth manual—it used to be the fifth (!)—and therefore presented the more vertically challenged among us with quite an extensive reach. At one point, Monsieur Roth kindly held on to my shoulders to prevent me falling off the bench while both hands were playing on the Récit! He was also gracious enough to operate the hitch-down swell pedal which, being located to the far right of the console, would have required my left foot to be considerably busier than it wanted to be. Cavaillé-Coll used these until 1870, when he introduced the more convenient but certainly less expressive balanced swell pedal. 

Upon playing a wrong note, I apologized, but was told by Monsieur Roth, “Don’t worry, he [Dupré] is not here, but with Widor, we have to be far more careful . . .” Yes, Widor’s tomb is down in the crypt and we were taken down to pay homage, following our evening with Professor Roth.

The next morning we made our way to the church of Saint-Louis-en-l’Ile to hear and play the church’s Bernard Aubertin organ, in North-German Baroque style. This is one of the finest of its kind in Paris and somewhat of a rarity. It was a welcome palate cleanser at this point of the trip to hear the sound of baroque-inspired principals and a particularly beautiful double-flute stop.

Having never been inside Notre Dame, a number of us stopped in briefly to gaze in awe at the gorgeous stained glass of one of the most famous buildings in the world. Unfortunately, the main organ was then undergoing restoration work and was unplayable. We then headed up to La Trinité, the church of Guilmant and, more recently, Olivier Messiaen.

This was somewhat of a pilgrimage for me personally, being particularly devoted to the music of Messiaen, and upon arrival at the church, I was greeted with a deeply moving vision: it had been raining, but as I approached the church, the sun came out, and a perfect rainbow appeared over the church—it could not have been more appropriate with Messiaen’s love of nature and the importance of color in his music.

The organ’s curator, Olivier Glandaz, was our host and had been a close friend of Messiaen. The organ has been well cared for and is in excellent condition. It was incredibly special to be able to hear Messiaen’s music on his organ, the combination of instrument and room creating what I can only describe as a glorious “shimmer.”

Day 12 was spent in the old French town of Rouen, perhaps most famous for being the place of Joan of Arc’s martyrdom. It is also home to Cavaillé-Coll’s last organ—the mighty four-manual instrument in the former Abbey Church of Saint-Ouen, which knocked the church in Houdan to second place as the coldest building of the entire trip! While in need of thorough restoration, it was wonderful to hear (and play) this “Grand Old Lady,” and yes, that 32′ reed really is as earth shattering as it sounds on recordings! Our hosts were the titular organist Marie-Andrée Morisset-Balier and her husband, trumpet virtuoso Michel Morisset.

Upon our return to Paris, we visited the van der Heuvel organ at Saint-Eustache, beautifully demonstrated for us by Vincent Crosnier, Jean Guillou’s assistant. 

Our penultimate day in France began at the Paris Regional Conservatory where those students who didn’t perform in Toulouse played a concert on the school’s Grenzing organ—the same instrument used for the preliminary rounds of the Chartres International Organ Competition. The performers were Richard Gray, Rees Roberts, Abraham Ross, Jillian Gardner, Albert Bellefeuille, Matthew Buller, Donald VerKuilen, and Jay Yau. Following the concert, Sylvie Mallet, the current professor of organ, and Marie-Louise Langlais, professor emerita of organ, were our hosts and joined us for lunch at a small restaurant that was once frequented by the likes of Debussy, Ravel, and Poulenc.

That afternoon, we visited the church of Saint-Roch where Claude-Bénigne Balbastre, Louis James Alfred Lefébure-Wely, and Pierre Cochereau are among its most notable titulaires. The instrument, built by Cavaillé-Coll but retaining all the reeds from the previous Clicquot organ, is equally suited to French Classical music as it is to French Romantic music. The magnificent oak case also dates from the original Clicquot organ and contained the only clock we had seen which actually worked! While the music of Lefébure-Wely may not be all that sophisticated, hearing it on this thrilling instrument, in the highly-ornate Baroque church only a short walk from the Paris Opera certainly helped to put the music in context. Our host was the present titulaire, Françoise Levéchin-Gangloff.

The Cathedral Basilica of Saint-Denis was our final stop for the day. This former Benedictine Abbey—the first gothic building in the world—was incredibly powerful in its day and is particularly famous for being the final resting place of the French Kings. This association with French royalty, however, meant that it suffered greatly during the Revolution. One of the most damaging occurrences was the removal of the abbey’s roof (almost certainly so it could be melted down and made into other things), leaving the large and fine eighteenth-century organ open to the elements for twenty years. This organ was eventually removed in the hope that it would be restored one day, but it ended up being poorly stored and was entirely lost. It is quite likely that much of the instrument still exists in pieces throughout the organs of Paris, but we shall never know for certain.

In 1833, the French State decided to have a new organ built for this important church, and the 22-year-old Aristide Cavaillé-Coll, who had just moved from Toulouse to Paris (at the suggestion of Rossini), submitted a proposal that won the contract. The organ was eventually completed in 1841, having been delayed due to the lack of an organ case, which was the responsibility of the church’s architect. The delay, however, worked in Cavaillé-Coll’s favor because it was during this time that he met Charles Barker. Owing to the size of the instrument, the mechanical action was incredibly stiff and heavy, but the new “machine” of Charles Barker changed all this.

The Saint-Denis Cavaillé-Coll, while by no means perfect, was revolutionary in organ building and was the prototype for everything that followed, especially in Cavaillé-Coll’s own work. Not only was it the first instrument to make use of the new Barker machine, it also had the first harmonic flute and trumpet stops. That being said, Cavaillé-Coll never cited the instrument as one of which he was particularly proud.

Pierre Pincemaille has been titulaire at Saint-Denis since 1987 and is one of the greatest improvisers in the world, having studied with the legendary Pierre Cochereau. He improvised for us on the hymn tune Down Ampney, enabling us to hear the many colors of this important instrument.

Our final day in Paris began at Saint-Gervais, where everyone had the opportunity to see and play the 1768 François-Henri Clicquot organ, which retains much pipework from the c. 1680 organ of François Thierry. Here again, while several of us had the opportunity to listen to the organ during Sunday liturgy, now we all had the unique opportunity to experience the masterpiece firsthand.

That afternoon, we reconvened at the Basilica of Sainte-Clotilde—set back almost out of sight except for its two spires, which can be glimpsed on the Paris skyline. A number of great organists have been associated with this famous church: César Franck, Charles Tournemire, and Jean Langlais. Sadly, very little of the organ Franck knew remains, the instrument having been electrified and, beginning with Tournemire, altered tonally to embrace the aesthetics of the new neo-classical movement. Nevertheless, it was interesting to hear the music of Tournemire and Langlais on the instrument for which it was conceived. The original Franck console is now in a museum in Belgium, having been bequeathed by Tournemire to his friend, Flor Peeters. The organ was rebuilt in 1999–2005 by former titulaire, the late Jacques Taddei, with the addition of two new consoles, a 32′ Contra Bombarde, and a Trompette-en-chamade, placed on the floor of the second gallery at the location of the old console.

And so, as our two weeks drew to a close, we arrived at the final church of our visit, Saint-Étienne-du-Mont, where Monsieur and Madame Maurice Duruflé had spent many years working and living in a small apartment just across the street. It felt especially humbling to be so “close” to these two towering figures in the world of organ music, and while we all have our favorites, I’m not sure I can think of anyone who doesn’t adore the music of Monsieur and the playing of Madame.

The church itself is very elegant—not unlike Duruflé’s music—and is home to the only rood screen (a beautiful, stone structure) and the oldest organ case in Paris, dating from 1633. Duruflé was also influenced by the neo-classical movement and this can be heard in the clear and bright sound of the instrument, making it especially good for counterpoint. After a stunning improvisation by Thierry Escaich on “Happy Birthday” (performed in honor of Donald VerKuilen’s 19th birthday), Alcee Chris performed Duruflé’s Toccata from Suite, op. 5, and Nicholas Capozzoli performed Escaich’s Évocation II for the composer.

I shall confess that writing this report has been incredibly difficult. It is almost impossible to express in words all that we experienced and learned on this amazing trip. One could easily write an entire article on just one of these churches and its rich musical and cultural heritage—we visited 31 organs in 13 days! Nevertheless, it is my hope that this overview will inspire further research—the Internet has a wealth of information and recordings of almost all the instruments we visited—and if you are able, go to France to see these masterpieces for yourself. We could not have been more warmly welcomed and it was clear that all those whom we met were very proud of their history and delighted to share it with others. Just be prepared to do LOTS of walking! 

Creative freedom

Last Wednesday I was doing a service call at a church in New Jersey, where the Organ Clearing House installed a relocated organ a couple years ago. The pastor was holding keys as I tuned the reeds—a little unusual perhaps, except that this pastor was an organist before he was ordained. It was he who conceived and drove the acquisition of the organ, and we’ve enjoyed a friendly relationship since.

It’s a real pleasure for an organbuilder when a parish appreciates an instrument he has provided and uses it well. Along with the pastor’s affinity for the instrument, that church’s organist is doing a wonderful job finding his way around the organ, and using it creatively as he leads worship for the parish.

An organ tuner can tell a lot about a local organist by the character and quality of the list left on the console, and this organist’s lists are concise, accurate, and correct. When I commented on that, the pastor waxed enthusiastic about the organist’s work, and said something to the effect that although once in a while he disagreed with a choice, he knew he had to stay out of it and let his organist be creative. Terrific. How many organists out there would quail at the idea of working with (or for) an organist-pastor?

Yes, chef

A couple days later, Wendy and I went to the movies followed by a light supper at the friendly bar at the end of the block. While Wendy’s literary pull often draws us toward weighty films, this time we saw Chef. It included some personally painful scenes about divorced parents struggling to do right by their son, but otherwise it was fun, funny, and scintillating.

Carl Casper (John Favreau) is chef of a popular and prominent restaurant in Los Angeles owned by Riva (Dustin Hoffman). They learn that the big-shot restaurant critic (played by Oliver Platt) is coming to review the place, and Casper drums up excitement among the kitchen staff planning a special knockout menu. There are fantastic scenes involving a whole pig arriving in the kitchen in a big plastic bag, and a lot of mouth-watering test cooking. When Riva gets wind of this, he storms into the kitchen brandishing the regular menu and essentially orders Casper to present the usual fare. “It’s what we’re known for.” Casper protests, referring to their agreement that Riva wouldn’t interfere in the kitchen, but to no avail.

Predictably, the critic pans the place. Enter Casper’s son, the quintessential smarty-pants kid with a smart phone, who shares the resulting Twitter traffic with his dad. The critic has thousands of followers. Casper, the quintessential social-media newbie, pours fuel on the fire by mouthing off, thinking he was tweeting to the critic, and only the critic, and the fun really starts as Casper challenges the critic to return for a “real meal.” Hearing that news, Riva repeats his insistence, adds an ultimatum, and Casper storms out of the kitchen to find himself in an adventure that includes some mouth-watering food scenes and a hilarious caper with his ex-wife’s first husband. It’s all about creative freedom.

For all the saints

Fifth Avenue in New York City is a classy address, but with the Disney Store between 55th and 56th Streets, and the NBA (National Basketball Association) store between 47th and 48th Streets, it’s not quite as elegant as it once was. It’s hard to imagine Mrs. Astor or Mrs. Vanderbilt stopping in to buy an eight-foot-tall Mickey Mouse, even though either of them would have had help to carry it home. We’ll not discuss the Dennis Rodman sunglasses.

Halfway between these two tacky icons you’ll find St. Thomas Church. It’s a wonderful place for worship, a legendary place to hear music, and a refreshing respite from the million-dollar huckstering going on elsewhere in the neighborhood. (People routinely spend more on handbags in that neighborhood than I will ever spend to buy a car!) Walk into the nave and allow your breath to be taken away.

The reredos behind the high altar includes sixty figures of carved stone. I wonder if the artist proposed sixty-five, and the vestry voted to limit the project? People often refer to the “price per stop” of pipe organs. Do you suppose there’s a “price per saint” for a reredos?

In 1499, the 24-year-old Michelangelo completed Pietà, commissioned as the funeral monument to a French cardinal who was a representative to Rome. It’s a little over 68 inches tall and nearly 77 inches wide, and it weighs about 6,600 pounds. I did a Google search and learned that the current price of Carrara marble is $2.25 per pound. (Believe it or not, even though it’s prone to stains, people use it for kitchen counters. You shouldn’t carry coffee in paper cups inside St. Peter’s.) Looking at photos of Pietà, it’s hard to tell just how much of the original block of marble is left, but let’s guess that Michelangelo took away two thirds of the material to reveal his masterpiece. If so, the original block would have weighed 19,800 pounds. At today’s price, that’s $44,550. (I don’t know if that includes shipping.) Did Michelangelo’s commission specify the maximum weight and cost of the marble? Or did they simply provide him with a block? I wonder if Michelangelo tried to hold out for a larger block? Given cost-saving devices such as laser cutting tools, hydraulic cranes, diesel engines, and railroads, I bet the cost of marble relative to other consumer items is lower than it was in 1500. Just imagine the effort involved in bringing a 20,000-pound block down a mountain and 400 kilometers to Rome using technology available in 1500 AD.

A few years later, Pope Julius II commissioned Michelangelo to paint frescos on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. Michelangelo worked on that project from 1508 until 1512. I wonder if the Pope established a budget. I wonder if he put a limit on the number of scenes depicted. Did Michelangelo provide sketches for the client’s approval? I wonder if Julius II stopped in once in a while to check on the progress, and if so, did he ever put in his two cents’ worth about color choices? Did he pay attention to the vibrancy of the colors? “Mickey, that blue looks pretty rich. What’s the price per tube?” Did he fuss about how slow it was going? Or did he say, “Knock yourself out. Have a blast. Don’t worry about the cost.” I doubt it.  

A related thought: We have just finished dismantling an organ in a church where the pastor was downright unfriendly. I wonder if Julius II and Michelangelo liked each other? Early in the movie, the kitchen staff spreads the word to Chef Casper that “Riva is coming,” in sharp, explosive whispers. Think of Michelangelo’s young assistant hissing, “The Pope is coming . . . ”

You say you want a revolution…

In the early 1960s, the Beatles turned the music world upside down. The radical messages in the lyrics of their songs thrilled some people and terrified others. Old-timers fretted about the end of civilization, what with those hippie hairstyles and all. Funny, because looking at photos of the Fab Four from those days with dark jackets buttoned up, and skinny dark ties with white button-down shirts, they might as well be a quartet of congressmen—except they were too creative for that.  

Those songs were innovative and provocative. Millions of young people were influenced by them. And each of those millions has experienced the moment of hearing the Beatles for the first time in an elevator soundtrack—the music that changed the world reduced to twinkling away in the background. And what a gold mine is that twinkling. After pop-music icon Michael Jackson recorded a couple songs with former Beatle Sir Paul McCartney, Jackson seized an opportunity to incense McCartney by outbidding him to purchase the rights to the Beatles’ catalogue, putting McCartney in the position of having to pay licensing fees every time he wanted to sing Hey Jude.

According to the website Mail Online (of the British newspaper Daily Mail), following Jackson’s death, copyright laws allow the rights to return piecemeal to McCartney.  A revolution at what price?

Leave the driving to us

A week ago, I was waiting for a bus in the teeming New York Port Authority Bus Terminal, listening to a nondescript Vivaldi concerto for strings over tinny public speakers. I’ve been present for plenty of serious recording sessions where microphones and music stands are set about on a wood floor. There are open instrument cases strewn about along with half-finished bottles of water. A small group of musicians is playing their hearts out to the microphones for posterity. Together they listen to playbacks of each take, discuss, and start again. Do you suppose they realize that all that effort is destined for broadcast in a bus station? Does that define commercial success for a musical ensemble? Artistic fulfillment?

The parish organist spends all day Saturday at the console preparing a blockbuster postlude for the next morning. The recessional hymn is finished, benediction and response checked off, and he launches into it. Ten minutes later, with a paper cup of coffee in the narthex, the smiling congregants tell him, “The music was beautiful, as always.” I once appreciated that feedback, but when the same person says the same words with the same inflections week after week, year after year, it gets a little hollow. Was she listening? Did she notice anything special about it this week? Or does “as always” cover it for her, taking away the responsibility to listen critically?

Classical radio stations love listener surveys, inviting their audiences to vote on their favorite music. It’s like a sprawling focus group and allows the stations’ librarians to cull all that complicated overbearing music that no one likes from their record collections. No votes for Alban Berg? Out it goes. As a teenager listening faithfully to WCRB in Boston in the 1970s, I was already aware that it was a pretty short list of music they played: a Mozart symphony (number 40 in G minor), a Vivaldi concerto (Four Seasons), something by Respighi (Ancient Airs and Dances), another Vivaldi concerto (another season down, two to go).

The Louvre in Paris is one of the world’s largest museums with over 650,000 square feet of exhibit space. It’s the most visited in the world with nearly ten million visitors a year. There are more than 35,000 objects on display, but for most visitors only one is a focus point. It’s a painting about the size of a coffee-table book, thirty inches by twenty-one inches. Because it’s so very iconic and valuable it’s pretty much buried, concealed in a transparent vault. So many people throng to see it that most only get a quick glimpse. Of course it’s an essential artwork—enigmatic, mysterious, beautiful, wistful. But you can make more of your time in those hallowed halls if you simply don’t bother. Miss Mona will be fine without you. Go the other way and see all the rest of that glorious art at your own pace.

The art of organ building

It’s fun to wax poetic about organbuilding from the point of view of the humanities. The Greek physicist and inventor, Ctesibius (ca. 285–222 BC) created the hydraulis, widely considered to be not only a forerunner to the organ, but the actual first example of one. The remains of a primitive pipe organ were found in the ruins of Pompeii, the ancient Italian city destroyed by the eruption of Mt. Vesuvius in 79 AD. The organ in the Basilica of Valère in Switzerland, made famous by E. Power Biggs’s 1967 recording, Historic Organs of Switzerland, is accepted as the oldest playable organ in the world. Biggs’s jacket notes stated that the organ was built in 1390. Others now think it was more like 1435. But whether or not we need to quibble about a difference of 45 years, that’s a mighty old organ.

Twentieth-century organbuilders used sixteenth-century models as the basis for contemporary instruments around which developed a revolution in the trade. And many of those original sixteenth-century instruments survive and are played regularly, proof that such ancient ideals remain vital and relevant to modern musicians.

Organs built in the sixteenth and twenty-first centuries all combine the fruits of many skills. Take a close look at a metal organ pipe and marvel at the precision of the hand-drawn solder seams that join the various pieces of metal. Inspect the edges of leather gussets on a pipe organ bellows and see how the craftsman’s knife tapered the edge to microscopic thickness, just to ensure that there was no loose edge to get snagged and delaminate.

See the precision of the playing actions (either electro-pneumatic or mechanical)—how fast the notes repeat, how uniform is the touch and feel of the keys. And marvel at the glorious architectural casework, beautifully designed, built, and decorated to promote and project the instrument it contains, and to enhance its surroundings.

The company that built that organ is surely a collection of high-minded individuals, capable of the creation of such a masterpiece. But wait. You have no idea how many cooks might have been involved.

Art by committee

A church invites an organbuilder to present a proposal for a new instrument. He delivers a drawing or a model. Using blue tape, someone in the church marks off the space to be occupied by the proposed organ. That Saturday, the women of the altar guild arrive to prepare the sanctuary for tomorrow’s services. They see the tape outline—to them it looks like a police photo of a crime scene. They storm the rector’s office, demanding that the organ not cross a specified but imaginary line. Please don’t take offense, all you members of altar guilds. You do wonderful work and we’re grateful. But I know of one fine organ that was sorely compromised in the design stage by exactly this scenario.  

The same rector reviews the proposal. It looks a little imposing. Too fancy, too shiny. That organist has enough of an ego problem. Let’s tone it down a little.

The organist reviews the proposal. There’s no Larigot, there’s only one soft solo reed, and nothing at 32-foot. I’m not sure I can manage without a third (or fourth) keyboard. Can we beef it up a little?

The vestry/board of trustees/finance committee/session (your choice) reviews the proposal. No, our data suggests that we will not be able to raise more than…

And if the architect is still around, “How can you do this to my building?”

In the 1960s, comedian Allan Sherman (Hello muddah, hello fadduh . . .) produced a hilarious parody of Prokofiev’s Peter and the Wolf in collaboration with Arthur Fiedler and the Boston Pops Orchestra. The recording of Peter and the Commissar was released in 1964, at the height of the Cold War—it was just two years after the Cuban Missile Crisis—and using the familiar tunes and orchestrations of Prokofiev’s score (apparently no one had gotten their hands on those rights!), Sherman told in outrageous verse of how the fictional Peter had written a new tune, but had to obtain approval from the Commissars of Music before releasing it.

The Commissars had all sorts of ideas about how to improve it, including giving it the beat of a bossa nova—and gave Peter examples of their alterations to previous applications from famous composers like “Beethoven’s Fifth Cha-cha-cha,” “Brahms’ Lullaby Rock-n-Roll,” and “Pete Tschaikovsky’s Blues.” This kind of buffoonery was perfect for Fiedler and the Boston Pops. You can hear this terrific and biting romp online at www.youtube.com/watch?v=MFseskG8JTY.

Allan Sherman’s poetry reminds us of the stories of Julius II and Michelangelo, Riva and Chef Casper, Paul McCartney and his struggle to retain control of the artistic output of the combo that changed the world, and countless other examples in which a creator is disappointed by the influence of outside forces.  

One memorable line from Peter and the Commissar stands out: 

We all have heard the saying that is true as well as witty, 

A camel is a horse that was designed by a committee.