In the wind . . .

Size matters, part two
First assignment: Please reread In the wind . . . in the May issue of The Diapason. Thank you.
Robin Hall is a very cool man. I met him in his office on West 34th Street in New York late on a February afternoon. A two-foot model of Sponge Bob Square Pants hangs from the ceiling. Kermit the Frog sits on the desk next to a DVD of Miracle on 34th Street. The walls are painted Wasabi Green. Kermit clashes with the walls—It isn’t easy being green. There’s a rack of file folders on a shelf under the window behind his desk—the folders are bright orange, obviously chosen to complement the walls. A snappy haircut, stylish eyeglass frames, and a breezy enthusiastic manner complete the picture.
Mr. Hall is a vice president for Macy’s department stores, and his office is in Macy’s flagship store on Herald Square. He heads the company’s department of Annual and Special Events. While I expect some department stores consider inventory to be the height of annual events, when you think of Macy’s you think of the Thanksgiving Day Parade. The department employs about 50 people who produce the parade, in-store flower shows, and public fireworks displays, to name a few activities. The hanging Sponge Bob is a sculptor’s model for a huge parade balloon. A few blocks away, there’s a parade studio with welders, woodworkers, and the cadre of artisans needed to build the floats and balloons for the parade, the artsy little bridges and gazebos that are installed in the store for flower shows, and all the other gizmos and gadgets that are the products of this unique division.
When I observed that he has a dream job, Robin pointed through the wall to the guy in the next office saying, “he’s the one with the great job.” He’s the one who interviews, reviews, auditions, and coordinates the high-school bands that travel to participate in the parade each Thanksgiving. You might think that job to be a nightmare of logistics, cancellations, and odd requests from hundreds of people, but Robin referred to the huge excitement of the many families traveling to New York so their kids could march in the great televised parade. Attitude matters.
Our conversation was about an hour long, ebullient, rocketing from one thing to another. At one point Robin said, “. . . more than in many other facets of modern life, passion is common in my world. I’m surrounded by passionate people doing the things they are passionate about.” (See Photo 1: a disinterested listener.)
Wouldn’t it be great if someone like this were in a position of responsibility for the care and promotion of a monumental public pipe organ?
A few years ago Macy’s merged with Federated Department Stores. The new company spun off Lord & Taylor. Lord & Taylor moved out, and Macy’s moved into a grand building on Market Street in Philadelphia, originally built by John Wanamaker to house his legendary department store, which included just that monumental public pipe organ. That’s right—the people who produce the Macy’s Parade are in charge of the Wanamaker Organ.
Last month I wrote about the history of that iconic instrument, hence the assignment for rereading. This month I share my reflections after spending 36 hours with the organ and the people around it. It was organ curator Curt Mangel who told me about Macy’s hearty support of the organ. Curt encouraged me to get in touch with Robin Hall; that referral led to my interview with him. Robin told me that when Macy’s acquired the Wanamaker properties, Melissa Ludwig, regional director of Macy’s Stores for the Philadelphia area, “sent an e-mail around” that described the relevance and reputation of the Wanamaker organ and in effect encouraged store management to be aware of the importance of the stewardship of the organ.
Robin Hall told me much about the importance of music in Macy’s heritage. He described an upcoming concert at Carnegie Hall, A Tribute to Macy’s, which would include newly commissioned songs. Each of the 80 versions of the Macy’s Parade has been a major musical event. For 40 years Macy’s has produced the July 4th fireworks on the New York waterfront in collaboration with the New York Pops Orchestra. Live music is considered an important part of any Macy’s event. Robin told me, for example, that the East Village Opera Company would be performing at upcoming corporate meetings. Special events are not a marketing tool, but central to the company’s mission. Attractions like the parade and flower shows are assets to retail activity and an opportunity for Macy’s to give back to the community. Simply put, Macy’s has always believed that music and theater are an essential part of the shopping experience. Special events enhance the brand. And emotionalism is “almost a religion.” How’s that for a corporate priority?
As Macy’s has long been devoted to musical and artistic extravaganzas, what better organization to have responsibility for the world’s greatest musical instrument? I was told how the Wanamaker Organ was a perfect fit into the portfolio of the Special Events Division, that it would “have a natural place in the Macy’s method.” Plans are under way to feature the organ in new types of programs and to enhance the listening experience in the Grand Court. And beyond mere enthusiasm is considerable tangible support. In its first years of stewardship of the organ, Macy’s has committed to the design and purchase of a new Peterson combination action (remember, there are 462 stop-tablets and 167 pistons!) and to the refinishing of the massive ornamented case of the six-manual console.
My hour in Robin Hall’s office was inspiring—how thrilling to hear of a major retail corporation wholeheartedly involved in arts and culture. It was fun—Robin is a compelling and engaging person. And it was encouraging—we live in a world dominated by bad news, in a culture that celebrates mediocrity, and my heart was warmed by the enthusiasm emanating from a corporate office in Manhattan in support of an organ in Philadelphia.
But the real thrill that day was to hear Robin talk about Peter Richard Conte, the Grand Court Organist, and L. Curt Mangel III, the curator of the organ. Robin spoke of how Peter understands the mission of the organ, that he is a serious, exceedingly skillful classical musician who knows how to balance high culture and popular populist selections, and who has a highly developed sense of fun. He spoke of Curt’s deep dedication to his work, his technical and organizational skills, his encyclopedic understanding of the instrument, and the work of keeping it in good condition. (See Photo 2: Peter Richard Conte [aka The conjurer].)
Peter Richard Conte has been Grand Court Organist at the Wanamaker Store since 1989. The hundreds of concerts he’s played at the store—along with his active touring schedule—make him one of America’s most experienced performers. In addition to what must be dozens of hours at the keyboard each week, Peter is both skilled and prolific at transcribing major orchestral repertory for his performances. His neat large-format manuscripts are peppered with colored dots indicating registration changes—the preparation time is obvious. I felt privileged to stand next to Peter while he played a noontime recital that included the “Immolation Scene” from Richard Wagner’s Götterdämmerung, César Franck’s Choral in A minor, and Robert Hebble’s intricate and sexy Danny Boy (melody in the pedal, accompaniment packed with the “ten dollar chords” described in Ted Alan Worth’s rambling, moderately literate, intensely personal recollections of Virgil Fox in The Dish). The console is bewildering. I’ve mentioned 462 stop-tablets, but you have to see it to appreciate it. There are eleven expression pedals and six keyboards. Peter’s hands are just like everyone else’s except they each have eight telescoping fingers and each finger has three knuckles that are not double but universally jointed. He flies through the most complicated passages with apparent ease, the observer having hardly a chance of comprehending the relationship between the printed score and what’s happening on the keyboards.
It sounds like a parlor trick, but it’s so much more. While the symphony orchestra comprises dozens of separate voices that are independently expressive, it’s usual for organists to think of expression as a one- or two-dimensional concept. Peter Conte playing the Wanamaker organ produces expressive effects that defy the commoner’s understanding of the pipe organ. Independent voices on three keyboards simultaneously, two pedal voices, one of which is a high-note melody, and inexplicably one voice in decrescendo with another climaxing—oh yes, remember those brass bars under the keyboards that operate the shutters, and look at those sneaky thumbs. (See Photo 3: Swell Shoes?) Amazing. A decrescendo into nothingness accomplished by running a thumb across a row of stop tablets like a line of falling dominoes. Breathtaking. A powerful burst from an array of colorful stentorian solo reeds. Thrilling. And all the while, commerce is going on. Macy’s customers are trying on shoes, sampling cosmetics, matching neckties to shirts, paying for their purchases. Peter’s abilities as an organist and performer are exceeded only by his understanding of the limitless instrument at which he sits.
The late Charles Fisk reportedly defined a “reed” as “an organ stop that needs two days of work.” This organ has 82 ranks of reeds. There are more than 30,000 pipes, each with a valve that’s a potential cipher. Heaven may or may not know how many electrical contacts there are, but Curt Mangel does. (See Photo 4: L. Curt Mangel III—The man behind the curtain.) Curt is a brisk energetic man whose gait announces his sense of purpose. He speaks with authority and precision, each sentence including an extra clause for explanation. It’s hard to ask him questions, because so much of what he says is answers. Curt has been curator of the Wanamaker Organ since March 2002. He guided me through the instrument, talking of history, challenges, dreams, and accomplishments. He told me how it’s possible, even usual, for two or three tuners to work in the organ at once, each with an assistant at a tuning keyboard, working in different divisions with shutters closed. His command of technical details reveals the diligence and intensity with which he has informed himself about the organ.
Curt showed me the newly commissioned organ workshop on the third floor of the store. Assistant curator Samuel Whitcraft and apprentice Scott Kip work with Curt to facilitate large-scale restoration projects and day-to-day maintenance. New equipment, large windows looking out at City Hall, spacious work areas, and historic photos combine to make a most agreeable working environment, space provided by Macy’s in the spirit of their positive attitude toward the future of the organ. (See Photo 5: The Wanamaker Organ Shop.)
Together and separately, Peter and Curt are enthusiastic advocates of this mammoth organ. They speak freely about their love of the instrument, their devotion to its heritage, history, and future, and of their mutual respect. They are working in a climate of collegiality and cooperation with the people at Macy’s—reveling in the opportunity to work with this special instrument with the support and encouragement of its owner. But it was not always like that. There have been long periods during which it was difficult to secure funding. There have been management teams that limited practice time because of the cost of after-hours security. There have been disputes over decibel levels during daytime performances. There have been periods during which the future of the organ was uncertain. Perhaps the greatest contribution to the organ by long-time curator Nelson Buechner was his dedication during what devotees to the Symphonic Organ might term the long dark days of the Revival of the Classic Organ.
And in the darkest of those appeared Ray Biswanger, founder and president of the Friends of the Wanamaker Organ. Ray has been instrumental and effective in the advocacy of the organ to its various owners. Working with Curt Mangel, the Friends have established the Symphonic Organ Symposium, an educational effort that organizes the gathering of ten or so volunteers, all professional organbuilders, for four or five days at a time, about four times a year. Curt lays out large repair projects, lays in the necessary materials, and lays on the marching orders. This confluence of talented professionals provides an unprecedented forum for the exchange of ideas, techniques, and experiences—hence the emphasis of the symposium’s educational value. This extraordinary effort is what allows us to experience the Wanamaker organ in such wonderful condition. The Friends of the Wanamaker Organ provide lodging and meals for symposium participants who volunteer their time and pay their own travel expenses.
Recently there was a special event to unveil the new organbuilding workshop. At the same time, the newly restored chorus of Vox Humanas was introduced. Originally part of the Orchestral Organ (currently under restoration), Manual 8' Vox Humanas I–VII (originally I–VI—they added one—you can’t have enough Voxes!), Manual 16' Vox Humana, and Pedal 16' Vox Humanas I–II (count ’em, ten ranks of Voxes in the same room) have been installed in their own division in a prominent location behind the shutters that were originally for the Orchestral Organ. As the ten ranks stand neatly in pairs on windchest divisions, there are five regulators and five tremulants to “complete the bleat.” Amazingly, but after all logically, Peter asked Curt to provide “Vox divisional pistons!” Sure enough, that extraordinary chorus has its own pistons allowing Vox crescendi and Vox decrescendi. And the proof is in the pudding—what a singular effect when that thumb runs down the buttons at the end of a phrase. (See Photo 6: You don’t see this every day.)
Free of the burden of all those Voxes, the restored Orchestral Organ will be installed in a new location to the right of the main organ at the same level as the String Organ. It is testament to the community’s regard and opinion of the organ that 380 new square feet of floor space are being provided for the organ. Think how many Speedos and bikinis they could sell in that amount of commercial space. The Orchestral Organ is scheduled for installation in the spring of 2008. After that, the restoration of the Great Chorus—a separate division of large solo Diapason, Flute, and String voices—will begin in the fall of 2008.
Philadelphia is a good vacation destination. Excellent restaurants and hotels abound, historic shrines and sites are everywhere. There are dramatic vistas that include photogenic bridges and waterfronts. And for the organ nut there is immense wealth. If you want to plan a trip, look into schedules of organ performances at the new Kimmel Center (home of the Philadelphia Orchestra and the new 125-rank Dobson organ) and Irvine Auditorium of the University of Pennsylvania (162-rank Austin). You might also try the Girard College Chapel where there’s a 102-rank E. M. Skinner organ. Four terrific organs, 851 ranks.
In the last few years, the Organ Clearing House crew has spent considerable time in Philadelphia dismantling, packing, and later shipping the massive Möller organ from the now-destroyed Philadelphia Civic Center (it’s now at the University of Oklahoma, where it will be restored as part of that school’s new American Organ Institute). That work, along with the 2002 AGO convention, and the fact that Philadelphia is “on the way” from Boston to lots of other places, have provided me with ample opportunities to visit the Wanamaker Store. And the longer that organ, Peter Conte, Curt Mangel, and the good people of Macy’s are working together under the same ornate roof, the more reason for all of us who love the pipe organ to visit Philadelphia.
Writing about statistics, stoplists, or histories cannot do real justice to the experience of hearing this organ. You must go. There are countless opportunities—go to www.wanamaker organ.com to see the schedule of concerts, to join the Friends of the Wanamaker Organ, to make a contribution to this amazing work, and to purchase a copy of Ray Biswanger’s thoughtful, balanced, and copiously illustrated book about the organ, Music in the Marketplace. Tell them I sent you. There is nothing else like the Wanamaker Organ, anywhere. Don’t take my word for it. And don’t miss the Brazilian steak house next door.

John Bishop is the executive director of the Organ Clearing House.

The seat of the Bishop
I’ve always been a sucker for construction equipment. The other day I was walking up Second Avenue in New York, where a new subway line is under construction, and although I was on a schedule moving between appointments I couldn’t help but stop for five minutes to watch an enormous crane lowering an electrical transformer the size of a UPS truck into a hole in the street. You can read about this massive project on the website of the Metropolitan Transit Authority at <A HREF="http://www.mta.info/cap
constr/sas/">www.mta.info/capconstr/sas/"</A>. (sas refers to Second Avenue Subway!) I’ve been involved in a consultation project in New York that has led me to learn something about the city’s utility system, and I’ve seen maps and photos that show an underground labyrinth of train, maintenance, and utility tunnels, and electrical, gas, and steam lines. It seems unlikely that there’s any dirt left under the streets of the city. Knowing something about that subterranean maze helps me understand just a little of how complicated it must be to create a new tunnel some four miles long, and sixteen new underground stations. And hundreds of thousands of cubic yards of dirt, stone, and rubble removed to create the tunnel has to be trucked across the city’s congested streets and river bridges to be dumped.
It’s a massive project that’s made possible by millions of dollars worth of heavy equipment, including my crane, tunnel-boring machines, payloaders, dump trucks, and heaven knows what else. Equipment like this has been improved immensely in the last 20 years by advances in hydraulic technology. The principal of hydraulics is that specially formulated oil (I know the root of hydraulic refers to water) is pressurized in cylinders, that pressure being great enough to lift heavy loads, turn rotary motors, or steer huge articulated equipment. Without these advances we wouldn’t have Bobcats, those snazzy little diggers with cabs like birdcages that can turn on a dime.
Sometime around the year 1250, the great cathedral in Chartres was completed. Nearly 800 years later it still stands as one of the great monuments to religious faith in the world. Tens of thousands of pilgrims and tourists visit there every year. The cathedral houses one of Christendom’s most revered relics, the Sancta Camisa, reputed to be the tunic worn by the Virgin Mary at the time of Christ’s birth. (Camisa and camisole come from the same root.) There is a labyrinth more than 40 feet in diameter laid in stone in the floor of the nave. The path of the labyrinth is about 13 inches wide and about 860 feet long (about a sixth of a mile), all twisted upon itself within the confines of the diameter. The towers are 300 and 350 feet tall, the ceiling of the nave is 121 feet off the floor, and the floor plan has an area of nearly 120,000 square feet, which is close to two-and-a-half acres.
Thousands and thousands of tons of stone lifted to great heights, and not a hydraulic cylinder in sight. The challenge and effort of building something like that with twelfth- and thirteenth-century technology is breathtaking. Most of us have been inside tall buildings, and most of us have been in airplanes, so we as a society are used to looking down on things. But imagine Guillaume, the thirteenth-century construction worker, coming home after a long day, flopping into a chair, taking a hearty pull from a mug of cider, and describing to his wife how that afternoon he had looked down on a bird in flight—the first man in town to be up that high!

§

On December 27, 1892, the cornerstone was laid for the Cathedral of St. John the Divine on Amsterdam Avenue in New York City, one of only a few twentieth-century stone Gothic cathedrals. Celebrated as one of the largest Christian churches in world—the overall interior length of 601 feet is the longest interior measurement of any church building—it serves its modern congregation, hosts hundreds of thousands of visitors, and as the seat of the Presiding Bishop of the Episcopal Church, it serves as a national centerpiece to the denomination.
While the full interior dimensions of the building have been completed, much of both the interior and exterior remain incomplete. The central tower, the transepts, much of the interior finish stonework, and the two west-end towers were never built, and the building carries the popular moniker, St. John the Unfinished. Given the staggering cost of this kind of construction, there are no plans for the completion of the building. Perhaps this stunning building stands as a metaphor for us who are all incomplete before God.
Two years ago the Organ Clearing House was privileged to work with the artisans of Quimby Pipe Organs installing the restored Aeolian-Skinner organ in the two chancel organ chambers, nearly 100 feet off the floor of the nave. We spent some three months in the building, working with humbling towers of scaffolding and an electric hoist that would have been the envy of those men in thirteenth-century Chartres. We had rare opportunities to see that grand building from angles not open to the general public—somehow a hundred feet seems higher indoors than out. And we witnessed some of the challenges of maintaining such a huge building. Fixing a roof leak is a big deal when you’re 150 feet up! That the cathedral’s administration can manage all this is hardly short of a miracle.
There’s a peculiar type of quiet present in such a building. The interior space is large enough that true quiet is probably impossible. When it’s very quiet inside, one is aware of the distant sounds of the city, and even of a kind of interior wind blowing. Sitting in the nave or the Great Choir in this special quiet, I imagine the hustle and bustle of construction: how workers managed 60-foot granite pillars that were quarried in Vinalhaven, Maine, transported to New York on barges, and hauled across the city by steam-powered tractors in 1903; how workers hoisted tons of precisely cut stones to form the fabric of the vaulted ceilings; how workers created stone spiral stairways inside the cathedral’s walls leading to such places as organ chambers; and how workers created the ornate spectacular 10-ton marble pulpit—festooned with such delicate carvings that during the installation of the organ we built a heavy plywood barricade around it so as not to damage it with a battering-ram in the form of a 32-foot organ pipe!
And let’s not forget what could be considered the real work—the evangelizing, preaching, persuading, and cajoling necessary to raise the money for all this, unfinished or not.

A house for all people
Why do we go to all this trouble? This cathedral has been host to countless extraordinary events, held there because of the extraordinary scale and dignity of the place. Twelve-thousand-five-hundred people attended the funeral of Duke Ellington in 1974. (I wonder how much the cathedral organist had to do with that.) In 1986 Philippe Petit, the high-wire artist who had walked between the twin towers of the World Trade Center, performed his work Ascent inside the cathedral, accompanied by the music of the Paul Winter Consort. Petit is listed on every service bulletin as one of the cathedral’s artists-in-residence. In the documentary film about his twin-tower feat, <i>Man on Wire</i>, Petit wore a “Cathedral of St. John the Divine” t-shirt.
In 1986, Archbishop Desmond Tutu preached an anti-apartheid sermon. In 1990, Big Bird, Bert, Ernie, and the rest of the Muppets helped celebrate the life of their creator, Jim Henson. In 1997, South African President Nelson Mandela preached at a memorial service for anti-apartheid activist Archbishop Trevor Huddleston. And in 2000, New York Mayor John Lindsay’s funeral packed the place. My wife Wendy attended that service and came home raving about how cathedral organist Dorothy Papadakos had played the crowd out at the end of the service with Leonard Bernstein’s tune, <i>New York, New York, It’s a Wonderful Town</i> (immortalized by Frank Sinatra), complete with fanfares from the State Trumpet under the west end rose window—perfect.
We need special places like that for events like those.

§

Wendy and I have been in New York for two months, living in an apartment in Greenwich Village we’ve borrowed from my parents’ next-door neighbors. While Wendy has been working with editors in publishing companies promoting the manuscripts produced by her clients, the Organ Clearing House has tuned a few organs, and dismantled a marvelous, pristine E. M. Skinner organ from a closed church building in the Bronx for relocation to the new worship space of an active Lutheran parish in Iowa, to be restored by Jeff Weiler & Associates of Chicago. Last year we renovated and relocated a 1916 Casavant organ to a church in Manhattan—the dedication recital is in a couple days, and we spent the last week tweaking and tuning it in preparation.
The Cathedral of St. John the Divine is on my mind because we attended Evensong there last Sunday evening. It was a beautiful service, loaded with music, prayer, scripture, and a moving sermon. We sat in the ornately carved oak pews of the Great Choir, surrounded by magnificent decoration and in the midst of a modest congregation. The choir’s singing was wonderful, the organ was played with true inspiration, and I was aware that we were participating in regular weekly worship in that place where so many of the world’s most powerful and revered figures have led and participated in worship. The sense that the place equipped to welcome thousands to a huge event is open and welcoming to us on an ordinary Sunday afternoon was moving to me. You don’t often sing hymns in the presence of an organ with 150 ranks.

A study in scale
Some months ago I brought a group of friends to see the cathedral. Organist Stephen Tharp was practicing in preparation for his presentation of the complete organ works of Jeanne Demessieux. As we listened, I told them a little about the size, resources, and complexity of the organ, and one asked me why you would need so many stops. I pointed out ornate decorations throughout the building—carved pews, filigreed lamps, Gothic arches and vaults, tiled stairways, wrought-iron gates, bronze medallions inlaid in the floor—and suggested that such a large organ complements a building with more than a dozen chapels and all this finery. We love the sound of a string celeste. It’s even better to have two celestes to choose from. But this organ has eight sets of celestes—unimaginable wealth, especially when you consider that all the celeste ranks except the Swell Unda Maris go all the way to low C! When an organist moves skillfully around this organ, the range of tone colors seems limitless—a kaleidoscope of tone color, with a range of volume from the roar of thunder to a barely audible whisper—exactly in scale with the size and decoration of the building itself.
And cathedral organist Bruce Neswick did just that in his improvised closing voluntary last Sunday—he morphed away from the tune of the recessional hymn into a harmonically and rhythmically sophisticated fantasy, gave a climactic fanfare on the State Trumpet, then melted seamlessly from the robust full organ to the whisper of that Unda Maris. You could hardly tell when the music stopped.
When the installation of the renovated organ was completed and the organ had been given a chance to “settle in,” the cathedral presented a series of dedicatory recitals by such distinguished artists as Daniel Roth, Olivier Latry, Gerre Hancock, Thierry Escaich, and Peter Conte. What a thrill to hear such programs on such an organ. But take it from me, Neswick shares that organ with the Sunday afternoon congregation as if the Queen was in attendance. Perhaps it’s his joy of sitting on the bench of such a distinguished and stunning instrument. Perhaps it’s his sense of the privilege of presenting music in worship in such a place. Certainly it made me feel like royalty to be so treated, the tariff being what I chose to drop in the basket during the offertory.

Party horn
Another example of the relationship between the scale of the building and the scale of the organ is the State Trumpet—a single eight-foot rank of trumpet pipes mounted horizontally under the rose window facing east down the length of the nave. This must be the most famous single organ stop in the world. It plays on wind pressure of 50 inches—something like the pressure of the air in a tractor tire, and nothing like the levels of pressure commonly used in organs. The pipes are shackled in place to prevent them from launching as missiles down the nave. And there’s an octave of dummy 16-foot bass pipes. They don’t speak—they’re there to make the rank of pipes look like something in that vast space. The thing is majestic. It’s almost 600 feet from the organ console—two football fields. It would take a little more than six seconds to cover that distance in a car traveling at 60 miles per hour. It seems as though you can draw the stop, play a note, and eat a sandwich before the sound reaches your ears. (No mayo on the keys, please.) The sound is broad and powerful, sonorous and thrilling. There can be no building better suited to enclose such a sound.
But here’s the problem. When the new State Trumpet was introduced in the cathedral as part of the 1954 expansion and rebuilding of the organ by Aeolian-Skinner, every ambitious organist wanted one. And too many organists got their wish. Today there are hundreds of modest parish churches cursed with the sound of a too-loud but not-too-good Trompette en Chamade, searing the airways six feet above the too-big hair of the bride and her attendants. The proud organist can’t get enough of it, but everyone else can. Just because St. John the Divine has one, the pretty church on the town square doesn’t need one.

It’s a matter of scale
All of us who have toiled in the vineyards of church music have experienced the “big productions” of our parishes—a Christmas pageant, the wedding of the pastor’s daughter, Easter Sunday with trumpets and timpani. Imagine the big production for the cathedral organist. The country’s president might be attending a memorial service. National television cameras are often present. And on a festive Sunday morning, 1,800 people might come to the altar to receive Communion. That’s a lot of noodling around with <i>Let Us Break Bread Together on Our Knees</i>.
Our two months in New York have brought lots of great experiences, dozens of subway rides, and the rich experience of getting familiar with all that a great city has to offer. I encourage and invite you to visit the city and to hear some of the great organs and great organists in some of the world’s great churches. Start with St. John the Divine, and work your way around town. The New York City Chapter of the American Guild of Organists has a fine website with a calendar of events.
And after Tuesday’s recital, I’m looking forward to going home next week where there really is dirt under the streets.

Photos of St. John the Divine courtesy Quimby Pipe Organs.

The Odyssey of an Organbuilder

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

Introduction

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

Early Life

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

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

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

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

The Land of Opportunity

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

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

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

Los Angeles Organbuilders

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

Murray M. Harris

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tonal Philosophy, 1913

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

Murray M. Harris, continued

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

Robert-Morton Organ Company

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

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

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

W. W. Kimball Company

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

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

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

In Los Angeles

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

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

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

Skinner and Aeolian-Skinner

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

Tonal Philosophy, 1959

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

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

John Bishop is executive director of the Organ Clearing House.

Wind
I’m a nut for a good wind. We live by the ocean, and I never tire of the feeling of the wind coming off the water bringing fresh air and all the good tidal smells into the house. I love to open the sliding doors that face the water and a door at the other end of the house to create a wind tunnel. (It’s not always popular with other family members.)
Years ago I was active in a small inland sailing club on the shore of a lake in the center of a suburban town. The lake was less than two miles north-to-south, and less than one mile east-to-west, so you couldn’t go for very long without coming about (turning to take the wind on the other side of the boat).
Since ours was a single-class racing club, the size of the lake didn’t matter. Depending on the speed and direction of the wind, the race committee set a course using inflatable markers (yellow tetrahedrons) with anchors. The classic Olympic sailing course uses three marks labeled A, B, and C set in an equilateral triangle. A is directly upwind from the starting line, C is directly downwind, and B is to the left, so boats go clockwise around the upwind mark. The basic course is A-B-C-Finish, but you can add an extra lap or two, and we often modified it to read A-B-C-A-C-Finish. These patterns would expose all the sailors to all points of sail as they went around the course.
One drizzly afternoon I headed the race committee. The wind was northerly, so I set the upwind mark close to the northern shore. A few minutes after the start, I noticed that the entire fleet was heading in the wrong direction. These were pretty good sailors, and it would be unusual for the whole group to get the course wrong. They were following what looked like a yellow tetrahedron that was a little east of upwind—a fellow in a yellow slicker and a yellow kayak who was heading away from the mark! I flew the recall-signal flag and started the race again, but not until we had all had a good laugh.

Know your wind
To sail a small boat is to be intimate with the wind. You have telltale streamers on the sails so you can tell exactly where the “lift” is and you watch the surface of the water for the ruffles that indicate the presence of wind. When there’s an updraft on the shore, air rushes in off the water to fill the void—so hawks, ospreys, and eagles soaring can tell you something about the wind on the water. In fact, this is the cause of a “sea breeze.” When the sun heats up the land in the afternoon, air rises off the land and the cool air rushes in off the water to take its place. Where we live, you can have a quiet picnic in the boat around twelve-thirty and put your things away in time for the sea breeze to come in around two in the afternoon.
If you sail often in the same place, you get used to how the wind comes around a certain point, swirls in a cove, or rushes directly from the sea toward the land depending on the time of day. There was an old salt at that inland club who had figured out how to predict the local wind by observing which direction airplanes were traveling to and from Boston’s Logan Airport twenty miles away. During a race you’d notice him heading off alone to some corner of the lake only to pick up the strongest wind of the afternoon and shoot across to a mark ahead of the rest of the fleet. I never did figure out how that worked, but he sure won a lot of races.

§

The steadiness, reliability, and predictability of wind is a huge part of playing and building pipe organs. We compare “wobbly” with “rock-steady” wind, debating their relative musical merits. One camp hates it when the organ’s wind wiggles at all (ironically, those are often the same people who love lots of tremolos!), the other claims that if the wind is free to move a little with the flow of the music, there’s an extra dimension of life. I think both sides are right. I love good organs with either basic wind characteristic, but because they are so different it seems awkward to try to make real comparisons. The instrument with gentle wind that makes the music of Sweelinck sing does not do well with the air-burning symphonies of Vierne or Widor.
As a student at Oberlin in the 1970s, I spent a lot of time with the marvelous three-manual Flentrop organ in the school’s Warner Concert Hall. The organ was brand new at the time (dedicated on St. Cecelia’s Day of my freshman year) and is still an excellent study of all the characteristics that defined the Classic Revival of organbuilding. It has a large and complete Rückpositiv division (Rugwerk in Dutch) and a classic-style case with towers. There are independent sixteen-foot principals on manual and pedal, and the whole thing was originally winded from a single wedge-shaped bellows behind the organ. End a piece with a large registration and make the mistake of releasing the pedal note first, and the wind slaps you in the back, giving a great hiccup to the grand conclusion.
As students, we worked hard to learn to control the organ’s wind, marking in our scores those treacherous spots where the wind would try to derail you. There were no hawks there to warn about the updrafts. A little attention to the lift of your fingers or a gentle approach to the pedal keys would make all the difference, and I remember well and am often reminded that such a sensitive wind system can be very rewarding musically.

Totally turbulent
It’s interesting to note that while the older European-style organs are more likely to have unstable wind supplies, organs like that were originally hand-pumped and had more natural wind that anything we are used to today. The greatest single source of turbulence in pipe organ wind is the electric blower. Because the wind is hurried on its way by a circular fan, the air is necessarily spinning when it leaves the blower. If the organbuilder fails to pay attention to this, the organ’s sound may be altered by little tornados blowing into the feet of the pipes.
I learned this lesson for keeps while renovating a twelve-stop tracker organ in rural Maine ten years ago. Before I first saw the organ, the organist said that the sound of the Great was fuzzy and strange, but the Swell was fine. Sure enough, she was exactly right, and I was surprised by the stark contrast between the two keyboards. Every pipe of the Great wobbled like the call of a wild turkey.
This was the ubiquitous nineteenth-century American organ, with an attached keydesk and a large double-rise parallel reservoir taking up the entire floor plan. There were wedge-shaped feeder bellows under the main body of the reservoir and a well at each end to provide space for the attachment of the square wooden wind trunks. In the 1920s an electric blower was installed in the basement some thirty feet below the organ, and a metal windline was built to bring the air to the organ through a crude hole cut in the walnut case (Oof!). The easiest place to cut into the organ’s wind system was the outside face of the Great windtrunk—piece of cake. But the effect was that the Great was winded directly from the violently turbulent blower output, while the wind had to pass through the calming reservoir before it found its way to the Swell. Every wiggle and burble of the wind could be heard in the sound of the pipes. Relocating that blower windline sure made a difference to the sound.
That lesson was enhanced as I restored a wonderful organ by E. & G. G. Hook in Lexington, Massachusetts. Part of that project was to restore the feeder bellows and hand-pumping mechanism so the instrument could be blown by hand or by an electric blower. Of course, it’s seldom pumped by hand, but there is an easily discernible difference in the sound of the organ when you do.
The introduction of electric blowers to pipe organs must have been a great thrill for the organists of the day. Marcel Dupré wrote in his memoir about the installation of the first electric blower for the Cavaillé-Coll organ at St. Sulpice in Paris, where Charles-Marie Widor was organist between 1870 and 1933. I have no idea just when the first blower was installed, but it was certainly during Widor’s tenure, and it must have been a great liberation. I suppose that for the first forty years of his tenure, Widor had to arrange for pumpers. That organ has a hundred stops (real stops!), and pumping it through one of Widor’s great organ symphonies must have consumed the calories of dozens of buttery croissants.
Since electric blowers became part of the trade, organbuilders have worked hard to learn how to create stable air supplies. A static reservoir in a remote blower room is the first defense against turbulence. We sometimes attach a baffle-box to the output of a blower—a wooden box with interior partitions, channels, and insulation to interrupt the rotary action of the air and quiet the noise of the large-volume flow.
Another source of turbulence in organ wind is sharp turns in windlines. The eddy caused by an abrupt ninety-degree angle in a windline can be avoided by a more gradual turn or by the geometry of how one piece of duct is connected to another.
Air pressure drops over distance. Run a ten-inch (diameter) windline above the chancel ceiling from Great to Swell chambers and you’ll find that four inches of pressure going in one end becomes three-and-a-half inches at the other. Drop the diameter of the windline a couple times along its length (first to nine, then to eight inches for example) and the pressure doesn’t drop. As pressurized air and pressurized water behave in similar ways, you can see this principle demonstrated in many large public rooms in the layout of a fire-suppressing sprinkler system. The water pipes might be four inches in diameter at the beginning of a long run and step down several times, so the last sprinkler head has only a three-quarter inch pipe. It’s a direct inversion of the sliding doors in our house. When four big doors are open facing the wind and one small one is open at the other side of the house, all that ocean air gets funneled into racing down the corridor past the kitchen and out the back door. If you don’t prop the door open, it slams with a mighty bang.
We measure air pressure in “inches of water.” The basic gauge (called a manometer) is a U-shaped tube filled halfway with water. Water under the effect of gravity is the perfect leveling medium—when the U-shaped tube is half filled with water, the water level is exactly the same on both sides of the tube. Blow into one end, and the water on that side of tube goes down while the other side goes up. Measure the difference of the two water levels and you have “inches of water”—we use the symbol WP.
Many of the ratio-based measurements we use are two-dimensional. When we refer to miles-per-hour for example, all we need is a statement of distance and one of time. To measure pipe organ air we consider three dimensions. The output of an organ blower is measured in cubic-feet-per-minute at a given pressure—so we are relating volume to time to pressure. Let’s take a given volume of air. There’s a suitcase on the floor near my desk that’s about 24″ x 18″ x 12″. I make it to be three cubic feet. We can push that amount of air through a one-inch pipe at high pressure or through an eight-inch pipe at low pressure. The smaller the pipe and the higher the pressure, the faster the air travels. It doesn’t take much of an imagination or understanding of physics to realize that those two circumstances would produce air that behaves in two different ways.
A mentor gave me a beautiful way to understand the wind in a pipe organ—simply, that air is the fuel we burn to make organ sound. Put more air through an organ pipe, you get more sound. To get more air through an organ pipe, you can make the mouth (and therefore the windway) wider. A pipe mouth that’s two-ninths the circumference can’t pass as much air as one that’s two-sevenths. You can also increase the size of the toe hole and raise the pressure.
I’m not doing actual calculations here, but I bet it takes the same number of air molecules to run an entire ten-stop Hook & Hastings organ (ca. 3″ WP) for five minutes as it takes to play one note of the State Trumpet at the Cathedral of St. John the Divine in New York (ca. 50″ WP) for thirty seconds. Imagine trying to hand-pump that sucker. It was mentioned in passing that when that world-famous stop was being worked on in the organbuilder’s shop during the recent renovation of that magnificent organ, the neighboring motorcycle shop complained about the noise!
I’ve written a number of times in recent months about the project we’re working on in New York. Because it’s an organ with large pipe scales and relatively high wind pressures, we’re spending a lot of time thinking about proper sizes of windlines to feed various windchests. I use the term windsick to describe an organ or a portion of an organ that doesn’t get enough wind, as in, “to heal the windsick soul . . .”
This organ has a monster of a 16′ open wood Diapason that plays at both 16′ and 8′ pitches. The toe holes of the biggest pipes are four inches in diameter (about the size of a coffee can). If the rank is being played at two pitches and the organist plays two notes (say for big effect, lowest CCC and GGG), we have four of those huge toe holes gushing wind. If we might have as many as four of those big holes blowing at once, what size windline do we need going into that windchest? To allow for twice the flow of air do we need twice the diameter windline? Here’s pi in your eye. To double the airflow, we need twice the area of the circle, not the diameter. The area of a four-inch circle (πr2) is about 50.25 square inches. The area of a five-and-a-half inch circle is about 95 inches. The larger the circle, the bigger the difference. The area of a nine-inch circle is 254.5 square inches. Two nine-inch windlines equals 509 square inches. One twelve-inch circle is 452 square inches, almost twice the area of the nine-incher.
That Diapason plays on 5″ WP—a hurricane for each note.
You can use any liquid to make a manometer. We can buy neat rigs made of glass tubes joined at top and bottom by round fittings. A longer rubber tube is attached to a wooden pipe foot (such as from a Gedeckt). You take an organ pipe out of its hole, stick the foot of the gauge in the same hole, play the note, and measure the pressure. You can also buy a manometer with a round dial, which eliminates the possibility of spilling water into a windchest—heaven help us. Measuring to the nearest eighth-inch, or even to the nearest millimeter, is accurate enough for pipe organ wind pressure. But using a denser liquid allows for more accurate measurement.
A barometer is similar in function to a manometer, except that it measures atmospheres instead of air pressure. Because the difference between high- and low-pressure areas is so slight, mercury (the only metal and the only element that’s in liquid form in temperate conditions) is commonly used in barometers. The unit of measure is inches-of-mercury (inHg); 29.92 inHg is equal to one atmosphere. Right now, right here, the barometer reading is 29.76 inHg. According to my dictionary, the record high and low barometric readings range from 25.69 inHg to 32.31 inHg. I guess today we’re pretty close to normal.
Measuring and reading barometric pressure takes us back to my eagles and hawks. An updraft creates a low-pressure region, which is filled by air rushing in from areas of higher pressure. That’s how wind is made. Wind doesn’t blow, it’s just lots of air running from one place to another.
On July 4, 2002, Peter Richard Conte played Marcel Dupré’s Passion Symphony on the Grand Court Organ of Philadelphia’s Wanamaker (now Macy’s) Store as a special feature of that year’s convention of the American Guild of Organists. It was an evening performance, and the store’s display cases were moved aside to allow for concert seating. This was early in the great rebirth of that singular instrument, and organists and organbuilders were thrilled by its majesty. Dupré conceived this monumental work of music as an improvisation on the Wanamaker Organ in 1921. (You can purchase the live recording of Conte’s performance from Gothic Records at <http://www.gothic-catalog.com/The_Wanamaker_Legacy_Peter_Richard_Conte_…;.)
The last minutes of that piece comprise a barrage of vast chords, chords that only a monster pipe organ can possibly accomplish. When I hear an organ doing that, I picture thousands of valves of all sizes flying open and closed and the almost unimaginable torrent of air going through the instrument. I remember thinking (and later writing) that as Conte played the conclusion of the symphony, barometers all across New Jersey were falling. Must have been some eagles soaring above the store. 

The convention of conventions
Conventions are big business. Tens of thousands of like-minded people gather in huge hotels and exposition halls for orgies of sales, parties, seminars, and exhibitions. Poking around the Internet, I found that the Specialty Equipment Marketing Association expects about 130,000 attendees at their 2007 convention to be held ten days from now at the Las Vegas Convention Center. SEMA (serving the specialty automotive industry since 1963) deals with custom equipment for cars and light trucks. They are planning a seminar for the 2007 convention titled Mean and Green: Bio-fuel Hummers, Fords, and off-road machines, where they will be exhibiting a 700-horsepower Hummer powered by bio-fuel. They’re not telling what the fuel mileage will be—500 bushels-per-hour? It isn’t easy being green.
In early December, the Las Vegas Convention Center will host the NFR (National Finals Rodeo) Cowboy Christmas Gift Show. They expect 20,000 attendees. Last March the Nightclub and Bar Convention & Trade Show attracted 38,000 people, and in August 13,000 people attended the convention of the American Pool Players Association at the Riviera Hotel in Las Vegas.
Given Las Vegas hotel prices, the cost of travel and food, and the propensity of conventioneers to consume various commodities with unusual gusto, the amount of money involved in these huge shows is incomprehensible. How do they manage the logistics? Imagine the swirl at the hotel check-in desk when 50,000 people are trying to check in on the same day.
Last week the American Institute of Organbuilders gathered at the Valley Forge Conference Center and Radisson Hotel in King of Prussia, Pennsylvania. The Specialty Equipment Marketing Association has about a ten-year head start in membership development. Founded in 1963, their convention is now among the largest in the country. The AIO was conceived in 1973 and chartered in 1974. I don’t know the exact count, but I believe that around 250 of us attended, and to be truthful, I doubt we’ll get into tens of thousands any time soon.
This seems like a small group, but friends who are not involved in the organ world are amazed when I tell them I’m going to a national convention involving several hundred organbuilders. These are the people who say, “I didn’t know there were any of you left.” I’m feeling pretty good, how about you?
Any convention has an exhibit hall in which vendors show their wares to members of the trade. There were almost 25 firms exhibiting at the AIO convention, including companies that provide leather, specialty tools and hardware, keyboard restoration, organ pipes, console parts, and of course, solid-state control systems. The exhibits hall is open for several hours each day, especially in the evening when it becomes the locus for the convention’s social life. After dinner people swirl through the exhibits, run into old friends, make new friends, and head off to the hotel bars in small groups.
One benefit of this tradition is the dispelling of myth—I’ve been doing business with suppliers to the organbuilding trade for 30 years, and it’s fun to meet those with whom you’ve spent countless telephone hours. You get to form a personal connection with the person who answers the phone at the order desk, and to discuss technical problems in detail with the engineers who design and build the equipment. Over the years I have found great value in knowing the people I talk with on the phone. These relationships are unspeakably valuable when I’m calling from a job site where wedding limos are showing up outside and the organ is acting up.
I got active in organbuilding in the late 1970s just as solid-state controls for pipe organs were entering the market. I had my start in workshops that specialized in tracker-action organs, and my immature understanding didn’t allow much space for digital equipment. I knew many people who resisted or ignored using it. I was fortunate to work for several years along side an old-timer who had worked personally next to Ernest Skinner (in fact, I assumed the care of two Skinner organs he had helped install in the 1920s and had maintained ever since!) who said, “that stuff is for you young guys.”
In the ensuing generation, many if not most organbuilders have had at least some experience with solid-state equipment, and many use it exclusively. Years ago, I remember being easily bewildered. I would stand trembling with my hand on the switch before turning on a system for the first time and would be looking for smoke, unfairly (to both the supplier and myself) assuming that there would be smoke to see. I handled the circuit boards as though they were poisonous, and while I understood what they were supposed to do, I had no idea how they did it.
Enough time has passed that we’ve been through generations of solid-state equipment. Looking back, the earliest systems seem pretty primitive. The companies offering them went to great trouble to make the pin-boards (rows of pins where you connect the wires from the console controls to the system) look as much like traditional pipe organ equipment as possible. Later, multiplexing was introduced—logic-based systems that reduce organ music to data streams that allow the information to be passed from console to chamber using a single wire. In my memory, multiplexing was the first scary leap. Simply put, the system is based on a clock that scans all the console outputs a prescribed number of times per second and sends a code along the wire to the chamber where it is “unscrambled” by another clock. For someone who started with trackers, it was hard to imagine that it would work or that it could be reliable. At about that time, there was a Star Trek movie during which the USS Enterprise was under reconstruction and the famous Transporter was malfunctioning. When a crew member was “beamed” up or down, the machine failed to unscramble the molecules accurately, resulting in horrible scrambling of human tissue. Would this happen to our organ music?
At first bad things did happen. One system I worked with had a clock that was going too slow, resulting in herky-jerky organ music. And lightning strikes were death. I was caring for a couple large organs that had new multiplexing systems, and I sweated out thunderstorms with good reason.
Now we are getting used to software-based systems in which the organbuilder connects the console controls (keyboards, stop knobs, piston buttons, swell shoes) to rows of pins, and using software determines which pin does what. After the organ is finished, you could decide to change divisional pistons into generals by updating the software through e-mail.
It’s fun to think back a few generations to the time when electro-pneumatic combination actions and pitman chests were introduced. Any good modern organ builder knows the symptoms of trouble in a pitman chest. But when those chests were first being perfected, technicians must have sweated out mysterious problems the way I have with solid-state gremlins.
In the exhibit hall of the AIO convention, I was most impressed by the sophistication of new developments in solid-state pipe organ controls, and even more impressed by the sophistication of my colleagues, the organbuilders, who in the last 30 years have worked hard to understand the function, uses, and benefits of this equipment. I joined in conversations in which organbuilders were suggesting improvements, offering solutions to problems, and describing innovative ways they’ve found to use existing controls. I saw an institutional comfort level that can only be to the benefit of our clients. We’ve come a long way, baby.
Because I’ve been involved in some very large organ projects in recent years, I’ve noted an important way in which organ organbuilding industry has changed. Seventy-five years ago, when American organbuilders were producing thousands of organs each year, there were a number of companies that had hundreds of employees. It was much easier for such a large company to marshal the forces to erect a 32-foot Principal, or just to transport an organ of 100 ranks or more. They had people employed in experimental roles, developing combination actions, relays, and new types of voices. Today it’s rare to find a company with 100 employees, and most companies employ fewer than ten people. In this environment, the importance of the supply house is increased as we can decide independently whether or not to build pedalboards “in house,” or which solid-state control system best fits the design and function of the console we design.
I thank the people from the companies who exhibited at the AIO convention. I appreciate the hard work you’ve done developing new products. The American organ industry is strengthened by your efforts. The fees you paid for exhibition space helped make this valuable experience possible. And thanks for the candies, wine, keychains, and door prizes you provided!
Earlier this year I wrote a two-part essay about the new life of the famous, enormous, and almost indescribable organ in the former Wanamaker’s Department Store (May and June 2007, “Size Matters”). In it, I wrote that Philadelphia boasts an unusual array of very large organs. The Wanamaker organ (6/462), the Austin organ (4/167) at Irvine Auditorium of the University of Pennsylvania, and the Dobson organ (4/124) at the Kimmel Center (home of the Philadelphia Orchestra) add up to 753 ranks in three organs that are within a few miles of each other. The Wanamaker Store and the Kimmel Center are within walking distance. The participants in the AIO convention had a wonderful opportunity to hear these three giant and wildly diverse instruments in two successive days.
While organ-people will no doubt always refer to the Wanamaker Store in Philadelphia, credit must be given to Macy’s Department Store, now the proprietor of this most grand of retail spaces. Robin Hall is an executive vice-president in charge of Macy’s Department of Annual Events, the group that produces the Thanksgiving Day Parade and July Fourth Fireworks along with numerous flower shows and musical reviews. There can be no division of a modern American corporation more enthusiastic or better equipped for the care of this most singular of pipe organs. In the brief period since their occupation of the store, they have funded extensive and expensive long-needed repairs, provided a large amount of space in the building dedicated to an organbuilding workshop, and established a collegial relationship with Curt Mangel, curator of the organ, and Peter Conte, Grand Court organist. To hear Peter and Curt talk about the people of Macy’s is to hear a gushing exceeded only by the amazing sounds of the organ itself. (Please refer to this column in the May and June issues of The Diapason for more about the Wanamaker Organ.)
Anyone who has attended an organ convention knows the bus rides—hundreds of like-minded people rattling across the countryside on a tight schedule to hear and see organs. Along with the organ demonstrations, there were workshop tours (Patrick J. Murphy & Associates and Nelson Barden at Longwood Gardens), workshop seminars on mounting toe-studs, stenciling façade pipes, and rebuilding Spencer organ blowers, and lectures in a large conference room at the convention hotel. Those lectures were on subjects as diverse as rebuilding and repairing Möller pitman chests, recovering keyboards, and conflict resolution.
Patrick Murphy, whose organbuilding workshop is in Stowe, Pennsylvania, was the chair of the convention, and the staff of his company was present throughout answering questions, guiding us as sheep on and off the buses on schedule, and providing a cheerful and welcoming presence. Randall Dyer (Randall Dyer & Associates of Jefferson City, Tennessee) is the chair of the AIO’s Convention Overview Committee. These folks deserve the gratitude of America’s pipe organ community for their contribution to the education, celebration, and advancement of American organbuilders.
I have always thought that organbuilders are a collegial bunch. Although we are competing with each other in a small market, we are typically willing to assist each other with advice and exchange of ideas, and even by sharing workers when projects get larger than a small staff can handle. But during most of the working year, we are buried in organ chambers in our own areas, seemingly out of touch with what our colleagues are doing. In King of Prussia, Pennsylvania, we came out of our holes blinking in the sunlight, and shared a wonderful week of professional growth and companionship. Nice to see you all. See you in Knoxville next year.■

James Lewis is an organist, organ historian and commercial photographer. He has researched the organs of California for over 35 years and has published articles on the subject in several periodicals. This article is a small section of a much larger text of a forthcoming book from the Organ Historical Society.

Introduction
Los Angeles is home today to many wonderful organs. During the early twentieth century, pipe organs were constructed for spaces beyond the typical church, theater, or university setting. This article traces the histories of over a dozen pipe organs in private homes, social clubs, school and church auditoriums, and even a home furnishings store. It provides a glimpse of organbuilding—and life—in a more glamorous, pre-Depression age.

Temple Baptist Church
Come back in time to the spring of 1906, where we find the Temple Baptist Church of Los Angeles readying their new building for opening. Although the new complex was financed by a religious organization, it was not designed as a traditional church building. Architect Charles Whittlesey produced plans that included a 2700-seat theater auditorium with a full working stage, two smaller halls, and a nine-story office block, providing the burgeoning city with a venue for various entertainments and civic events, and Temple Church with facilities for church activities. Even though the official name of the building was Temple Auditorium, it was also known over the years as Clune’s Theatre and Philharmonic Auditorium. In addition to church services, the Auditorium was used for concerts, public meetings, ballet, silent motion pictures, and beginning in 1921, the Los Angeles Philharmonic Orchestra and the Light Opera Association.
It was the first steel-reinforced poured concrete structure in Los Angeles. The auditorium had five narrow balconies and was decorated in a simplified Art Nouveau-style influenced by Louis Sullivan’s Auditorium in Chicago. Color and gold leaf were liberally used, and the concentric rings of the ceiling over the orchestra section were covered with Sullivanesque ornamentation and studded with electric lights. Concealed behind this area, on either side of the stage, was the organ.
The Auditorium Company ordered a large four-manual organ (Opus 156) from the Austin Organ Company of Hartford, Connecticut. Similar to the auditorium itself, the instrument was used more for secular occasions than for church services. It was the first large, modern organ in Los Angeles and contained such innovations as second touch, high wind pressures, an array of orchestral voices, and an all-electric, movable console with adjustable combination action.
The instrument had a partially enclosed Great division, with a large selection of 8′ stops that included four 8′ Open Diapasons. Second touch was available on the Swell keyboard through a Great to Swell coupler. The Choir division was labeled Orchestral and contained a variety of soft string and flute stops along with three orchestral reeds. The Solo division was on 25″ wind pressure and unenclosed except for the Harmonic Tuba, unified to play at 16′, 8′ and 4′ pitches. 25″ wind pressure was also used in the Pedal division for the Magnaton stop, playable at 32′ and 16′. An article about the Auditorium in the Architectural Record magazine stated “the roof is reinforced with steel so that the tones of the large organ will not cause any structural damage.”1 A mighty organ, indeed!
The four-manual console was located in the orchestra pit and movable within a range of 50 feet. Its design was influenced by the early consoles of Robert Hope-Jones and featured two rows of stop keys placed above the top keyboard, a style affectionately known as a “toothbrush console,” because to an active imagination the two rows of stop keys looked like the rows of bristles on a toothbrush.
In 1912, Dr. Ray Hastings (1880–1940) was appointed house organist, and he played for church services, silent motion pictures, radio broadcasts, public recitals, and with the Los Angeles Philharmonic Orchestra.2
Temple Auditorium and its mighty Austin organ served Los Angeles for many years, but by the 1950s the place was beginning to look a bit tired. Sometime after World War II, the interior was painted a ghastly shade of green, covering up all the color and gold of the original decorative scheme. In 1965 the Philharmonic Orchestra and Light Opera both moved to the new Los Angeles Music Center and the Auditorium never again operated as a theater.
The organ began to develop serious wind leaks, and the 25″-wind-pressure Solo division and Pedal Magnaton were finally disconnected. A supply-house console replaced the original Austin console in the 1960s and was moved out of the orchestra pit to the stage.
Sunday morning services of Temple Baptist Church became sparsely attended as people moved out of Los Angeles to the new suburbs. There did not seem to be any use for the old Auditorium, and the complex finally succumbed to the wrecker’s ball in 1985. The pipework from the Austin organ was sold off piecemeal and the chests were left in the chambers to come down with the demolition of the building. What began as Los Angeles’s first, modern organ of the 20th-century came to an ignominious end.

Temple Auditorium, Los Angeles
Austin Organ Company, 1906, Opus 156

GREAT
(unenclosed)
16′ Major Diapason
16′ Contra Dulciana
8′ First Diapason
8′ Second Diapason
8′ Third Diapason
8′ Gross Flute
8′ Claribel Flute
4′ Octave
4′ Hohl Flute
3′ Twelfth
2′ Fifteenth
(enclosed)
8′ Horn Diapason
8′ Violoncello
8′ Viol d’Amour
8′ Doppel Flute
4′ Fugara
III Mixture
16′ Double Trumpet
8′ Trumpet
4′ Clarion

SWELL
16′ Gross Gamba
8′ Diapason Phonon
8′ Violin Diapason
8′ Gemshorn
8′ Echo Viole
8′ Vox Angelica
8′ Gemshorn
8′ Rohr Flute
8′ Flauto Dolce
8′ Unda Maris
8′ Quintadena
4′ Principal
4′ Harmonic Flute
2′ Flageolet
III Dolce Cornet
16′ Contra Posaune
8′ Cornopean
8′ Oboe
8′ Vox Humana
Tremolo
Vox Humana Tremolo

ORCHESTRAL
16′ Contra Viole
8′ Geigen Principal
8′ Viole d’Orchestre
8′ Viole Celeste
8′ Vox Seraphique
8′ Concert Flute
8′ Lieblich Gedackt
4′ Violina
4′ Flauto Traverso
2′ Piccolo Harmonique
16′ Double Oboe Horn
8′ Clarinet
8′ Cor Anglais
Tremolo

SOLO
8′ Grand Diapason
8′ Flauto Major
8′ Gross Gamba
4′ Gambette
4′ Flute Ouverte
2′ Super Octave
8′ Orchestral Oboe
8′ Saxophone (synthetic)
16′ Tuba Profunda
8′ Harmonic Tuba (ext)
4′ Clarion (ext)

PEDAL
32′ Contra Magnaton
32′ Resultant
16′ Magnaton
16′ Major Diapason
16′ Small Diapason (Gt)
16′ Violone
16′ Bourdon
16′ Dulciana (Gt)
16′ Contra Viole (Orch)
8′ Gross Flute
8′ ‘Cello
8′ Flauto Dolce
4′ Super Octave
16′ Tuba Profunda (Solo)
8′ Tuba (Solo)

Swell Sub
Swell Octave
Orchestral Sub
Orchestral Octave
Solo Sub
Solo Super
Swell to Pedal
Swell to Pedal Octave
Great to Pedal
Orchestral to Pedal
Solo to Pedal
Swell to Great Sub
Swell to Great Unison
Swell to Great Octave
Orchestral to Great Sub
Orchestral to Great Unison
Solo to Great Unison
Solo to Great Octave
Great to Swell Unison Second Touch
Swell to Orchestral Sub
Swell to Orchestral Unison
Swell to Orchestral Octave
Solo to Orchestral Unison

Tally’s Broadway Theatre
Eight years after the Temple Auditorium organ was installed, Tally’s Broadway Theatre took delivery on a four-manual organ advertised as “The World’s Finest Theatre Pipe Organ.” The 47-rank organ had been ordered early in 1913 from the Los Angeles builder Murray M. Harris, but by the time it was installed in 1914 the name of the firm had been changed to the Johnston Organ Company and the factory moved to the nearby suburb of Van Nuys.
Tally’s instrument must have been the original “surround sound,” as most of the pipework was installed in shallow chambers extending down both sides of the rectangular-shaped auditorium. The Choir division was on the stage and had its own façade, while the Echo was behind a grille at one side of the stage. Positioned on a lift in the orchestra pit, the four-manual drawknob console was equipped with a roll player.
This was not the sort of theatre organ that would come into prominence during the 1920s, a highly unified instrument full of color stops all blended together by numerous tremolos. Tally’s organ was not that much different from a Murray M. Harris church organ, except for the saucer bells and a lack of upperwork.
Installation was still underway when it came time for the opening concert, but since the show must go on, the event took place. A reviewer wrote “while the unfinished and badly out of tune instrument, under the skillful manipulation of an excellent performer, did give pleasure to a large portion of the big audience, nevertheless it was an unfinished and badly out of tune instrument and as such it could not favorably impress the ear of the critic.”3
Charles Demorest, a former student of Harrison Wild in Chicago, who played at Tally’s, was also the organist at the Third Church of Christ, Scientist, and gave Monday afternoon recitals on the organ in Hamburger’s department store. In the May, 1914 edition of The Pacific Coast Musician it was mentioned that “Charles Demorest is doing much to uphold good music for the motion picture theatres by the quality of his organ work at Tally’s Broadway Theatre, Los Angeles, where he has a concert organ of immense resources at his command. This instrument is a four-manual organ equipped with chimes, saucer bells, concert harp and echo organ. Mr. Demorest plays a special program every Wednesday afternoon at four o’clock where an orchestra and soloists further contribute to the excellence at the Tally Theatre.”4
In the mid-1920s, the May Company department store next door to Tally’s was doing a booming business and needed larger quarters. Negotiations with Tally led to the theater being purchased and torn down to make way for a greatly expanded May Company building. The organ was crated up and moved to Mr. Tally’s Glen Ranch, where it was stored in a barn. It was eventually ruined by water damage when the roof leaked.

Tally’s Broadway Theatre
Johnston Organ Company, 1914

GREAT
16′ Double Open Diapason
8′ First Open Diapason
8′ Second Open Diapason
8′ Viola
8′ Viol d’Amour
8′ Tibia Clausa
8′ Clarabella
4′ Octave
4′ Wald Flute
8′ Trumpet
Cathedral Chimes
Concert Harp
Saucer Bells

SWELL
16′ Bourdon
8′ Open Diapason
8′ Violin Diapason
8′ Violin
8′ Voix Celeste
8′ Aeoline
8′ Stopped Flute
4′ Harmonic Flute
2′ Harmonic Piccolo
16′ Contra Fagotto
8′ Horn
8′ Oboe
8′ Vox Humana

CHOIR
16′ Double Dulciana
8′ Geigen Principal
8′ Dulciana
8′ Lieblich Gedackt
8′ Quintadena
4′ Dulcet
8′ Clarinet

SOLO
8′ Diapason Phonon
8′ Harmonic Flute
8′ Tibia Plena
8′ Harmonic Tuba
8′ Orchestral Oboe

ECHO
8′ Flauto Dolce
8′ Unda Maris
8′ Concert Flute
8′ Orchestral Viol
4′ Flute d’Amour
8′ Vox Mystica

PEDAL
32′ Acoustic Bass
16′ Open Diapason
16′ Bourdon
16′ Contra Basso (Gt)
16′ Dulciana (Ch)
16′ Lieblich Gedackt (Sw)
8′ Violoncello
8′ Gross Flute
8′ Flute
16′ Trombone

Swell Tremolo
Choir Tremolo
Solo Tremolo
Echo Tremolo

Trinity Auditorium
In 1914, inspired perhaps by the success of Temple Auditorium, Trinity Southern Methodist Church opened their new Trinity Auditorium, a large Beaux Arts structure on South Grand Avenue containing a multi-use 1500-seat auditorium and a nine-story hotel with rooftop ballroom.
An organ was ordered from the Murray M. Harris Company, but just like the Tally’s Theatre organ, it was installed under the name of the Johnston Organ Company. The organ was a four-manual instrument of 63 ranks situated above the stage floor, but within the proscenium arch, with an Echo division in the dome at the center of the room. The drawknob console was at one side of the orchestra pit.
The tonal design was typical of a large, late Murray Harris organ, boasting an assortment of 8′ stops and big chorus reeds on both the Great and Solo, but without the usual Great mixture. The Tibias, Diapason Phonon in the Swell and the slim-scale strings of the Solo division, stops not normally found on Harris organs, show the influence of Stanley Williams, the firm’s voicer since 1911, who had worked with Hope-Jones in England.
Arthur Blakeley was house organist and played for church services, silent motion pictures, weekly public recitals and with the Los Angeles Philharmonic Orchestra, who used the building from 1918 to 1921. It was noted that by May 1915, Blakeley had provided music for 108 performances of a film entitled “Cabiria” and played over one hundred different compositions in his weekly recitals, ranging from works by Bach, Handel and Wagner to Reubke’s Sonata on the 94th Psalm.5
There was one area in which Trinity Auditorium failed to emulate Temple Auditorium—financing. To construct the auditorium and hotel complex the church secured such a heavy mortgage that one newspaper account claimed it was financed clear into the 21st century. A few years after it opened, Trinity Auditorium was taken over by a management company that continued to operate it as a public venue, and the church moved to humbler quarters.
Trinity Auditorium was a popular place for meetings of the local AGO chapter, and among the artists heard there were Pietro Yon, Charles Courboin, and Clarence Eddy. The organ continued to be used for films, concerts and later on, radio broadcasts, but by the 1940s it had become a liability. To save the expense of upkeep on an instrument that by then was only occasionally used and to secure more space on the stage, the organ was removed and broken up for parts.

Trinity Auditorium
Johnston Organ Company, 1914

GREAT
16′ Double Open Diapason
8′ First Open Diapason
8′ Second Open Diapason
8′ Viola di Gamba
8′ Viol d’Amour
8′ Tibia Clausa
8′ Doppel Floete
4′ Octave
4′ Harmonic Flute
22⁄3′ Octave Quint
2′ Super Octave
16′ Double Trumpet
8′ Trumpet
4′ Clarion
Cathedral Chimes

SWELL
16′ Lieblich Bourdon
8′ Diapason Phonon
8′ Violin Diapason
8′ Salicional
8′ Aeoline
8′ Vox Celeste
8′ Lieblich Gedackt
8′ Clarabella
4′ Principal
4′ Lieblich Floete
4′ Violina
2′ Harmonic Piccolo
IV Dolce Cornet
16′ Contra Fagotto
8′ Cornopean
8′ Oboe
Tremolo

CHOIR
16′ Double Dulciana
8′ Geigen Principal
8′ Dulciana
8′ Quintadena
8′ Melodia
4′ Wald Floete
4′ Dulcet
8′ Clarinet
Tremolo
Concert Harp

SOLO
8′ Gross Gamba
8′ Tibia Plena
8′ Harmonic Flute
8′ Viole d’Orchestre
8′ Viole Celeste
16′ Ophicleide
8′ Tuba
4′ Tuba Clarion

ECHO
16′ Echo Bourdon
8′ Echo Diapason
8′ Viol Etheria
8′ Unda Maris
8′ Concert Flute
4′ Flauto Traverso
8′ Vox Humana
Tremolo
Concert Harp (Ch)

PEDAL
32′ Double Open Diapason
32′ Resultant
16′ Open Diapason
16′ Violone
16′ Tibia Profundo
16′ Bourdon
16′ Lieblich Gedackt (Sw)
16′ Dulciana (Ch)
16′ Echo Bourdon (Echo)
8′ Octave
8′ Violoncello
8′ Flute
16′ Trombone
16′ Ophicleide (Solo)
8′ Tuba (Solo)

University of Southern California
In 1920, the University of Southern California placed an order for a large concert organ to be built by the Robert-Morton Organ Company and installed in the new Bovard Auditorium on the USC campus. Under a headline reading “Organ Attracts,” the Los Angeles Times told that “a great increase of interest is being manifested by the faculty and student body of the organ department, USC, since the announcement was recently made that the new organ, one of the largest in the southwest, is soon to be installed in the auditorium of that institution. The instrument will be provided with eighty stops and 500 pipes.”6 Well, perhaps a few more than 500!
Bovard is a large auditorium graced with a dollop of Gothic tracery, originally seating 2,100 on the main floor and in two balconies. The Robert-Morton organ, the largest instrument built by the firm, was located in concrete chambers on either side of the stage and completely enclosed, except for the 16′ Pedal Bourdon. It was not an ideal installation, as the Swell and Choir divisions were placed so they spoke onto the stage area and the Great and Solo were located in the auditorium proper. For organ recitals, the stage curtains had to be open so the audience could hear the entire instrument.
By 1920, the builder no longer made drawknob consoles, so the Bovard organ was supplied with a four-manual horseshoe console. It was placed in the orchestra pit and had color-coded stop keys; diapasons were white, flutes blue, strings amber, reeds red, and the couplers were short-length black stop keys placed over the top keyboard.7
The organ had two enormous 32′ stops. When the instrument was completed at the Van Nuys factory, low C of the 32′ Bombarde was assembled outside the main building and supplied with air so that its sound could be demonstrated for the local residents.
In June of 1921, the organ was dedicated in two recitals given by the British virtuoso Edwin Lemare. It was a well-used instrument in its day, providing music for university events, concerts, commencement exercises, and it served as the major practice and recital organ for many USC organ students.
By the mid-1970s the organ had fallen out of favor and some of the pipework was vandalized by students, causing the instrument to become unplayable. It was finally removed from the auditorium in 1978, and the undamaged pipework was sold for use in other organs.

University of Southern California
Robert-Morton Organ Company, 1921

GREAT
16′ Double Open Diapason
8′ First Open Diapason
8′ Second Open Diapason
8′ Third Open Diapason
8′ Viola
8′ Erzahler
8′ Doppel Flute
8′ Melodia
4′ Octave
4′ Wald Floete
2′ Flageolet
V Mixture
16′ Double Trumpet
8′ Trumpet
4′ Clarion

SWELL
16′ Bourdon
8′ Open Diapason
8′ Horn Diapason
8′ Salicional
8′ Celeste
8′ Aeoline
8′ Viol d’Orchestre
8′ Viol Celeste
8′ Stopped Diapason
8′ Clarabella
8′ Gemshorn
4′ Violin
4′ Harmonic Flute
2′ Piccolo
III Cornet
16′ Contra Fagotto
8′ Cornopean
8′ Flugel Horn
8′ Oboe
8′ Vox Humana
4′ Clarion
Tremolo

CHOIR
16′ Contra Viole
8′ Geigen Principal
8′ Dulciana
8′ Quintadena
8′ Concert Flute
8′ Flute Celeste
4′ Flute
22⁄3′ Nazard
2′ Piccolo

SOLO
8′ Stentorphone
8′ Gross Flute
8′ Gamba
8′ Gamba Celeste
8′ French Horn
8′ English Horn
8′ Saxophone
8′ Clarinet
8′ Orchestral Oboe
8′ Tuba
Harp
Chimes

ECHO
8′ Cor de Nuit
8′ Muted Viole
8′ Viole Celeste
4′ Zauberfloete
8′ Vox Humana
Tremolo

PEDAL
32′ Double Open Diapason
32′ Resultant
16′ Open Diapason
16′ Bourdon
16′ Violone (Gt)
16′ Lieblich Bourdon (Sw)
16′ Contra Viole (Ch)
16′ Echo Bourdon
8′ Principal
8′ Flute
8′ Cello
8′ Dulciana
4′ Flute
Compensating Mixture
32′ Bombarde
16′ Trombone
16′ Fagotto (Sw)
8′ Trumpet

Grauman’s Metropolitan Theatre
When Grauman’s Metropolitan Theatre was constructed at Sixth and Hill Streets in 1923, Tally’s Broadway Theatre must have looked rather dowdy in comparison. The Metropolitan, a monumental piece of architecture, was and remained the largest theater in Los Angeles and had a four-manual, 36-rank Wurlitzer Hope-Jones Unit Orchestra, Opus #543. This was the largest organ built by Wurlitzer at the time, beating out the celebrated Denver Auditorium organ by one rank. The 36 ranks of pipes were divided between two sections of the theater: 24 ranks in chambers located over the proscenium arch and 12 ranks in the Echo division at the rear of the balcony. Albert Hay Malotte, Gaylord Carter and Alexander Schreiner were Metropolitan organists at various times, accompanying films and presenting organ solos enhanced by lighting subtly changing color to match the mood of the music.
James Nuttall, who installed the organ, escorted a writer for the Los Angeles Times through the newly installed instrument and provided a description of its resources:
The tonal chambers, or swell boxes as they are technically termed, each measure 20 feet long and 11 feet wide, and are arranged above the proscenium arch. They are constructed in such a manner that they are practically sound proof, being built of nonporous inert material, with the interior finished in hard plaster. The front wall of each chamber facing the auditorium is left open and into this opening is fitted a mechanism built in the form of a large laminated Venetian blind. The opening and closing of the shutters in this Venetian blind produce unlimited dynamic tonal expression from the softest whisper to an almost overwhelming volume.
In the basement of the theatre is the blowing apparatus consisting of two Kinetic blowers connected directly to a twenty-five horsepower motor. Each of the blowers is capable of supplying 2500 cubic feet compressed air per minute. The compressed air is used to work the electro-pneumatic actions as well as to supply the various tone producers.
There are four manuals on the console, and the pedal board on which the bass notes are played with the feet. The stop keys number 236 and these are arranged above the keyboards on three tiers and are divided into departments of independent organs. The lowest manual is the accompaniment organ, the middle keyboard is the great organ and is so arranged so the echo organ may be played from this manual. The third manual is a bombarde organ and the top one is the solo organ.8

Although the advent of sound motion pictures silenced many of the organs in Los Angeles theaters, the Metropolitan organ was in use much longer due to the continuation of live stage shows well into the 1950s. In 1960 the theater was closed and by 1961 it had been demolished and the organ broken up for parts.

Poly-Technic High School
Poly-Technic High School was one of several high schools in the Los Angeles area to have a pipe organ. For their new auditorium, completed in 1924, the school ordered a four-manual organ from the Estey Organ Company. Decorated in the Spanish Renaissance style, the auditorium seated 1,800 and had a full working stage. The organ was installed in chambers located on either side of the proscenium, with the console in the orchestra pit.
The instrument had an automatic roll player in a separate cabinet and a console with Estey’s recent invention, the “luminous piston stop control.” These were lighted buttons placed in rows above the top manual of the console. When pushed, the button lit up signifying that that particular stop was on. Another push turned the stop off. This system presented all sorts of problems; it was inconvenient to use, the “luminous piston” was difficult to see under bright lights, it could give an organist a very nasty shock, and some organists could not resist spelling out naughty words with the lights.
The organ had a clear, pleasant sound in the auditorium’s good acoustics due possibly to Estey’s local representative Charles McQuigg, a former voicer of the Murray M. Harris Company, who installed and finished the instrument. Crowning the full organ was a reedless Tuba Mirabilis voiced on 15″ wind pressure, an invention of William Haskell of the Estey Company. The pipes looked like an open wood flute, but sounded like a stringy Horn Diapason. It was a rather convincing sound, until one knew the secret.
Classes in organ instruction were offered at Poly High, the instrument was used for recitals and public events held in the auditorium, and the roll player was used to play transcriptions of orchestral works for music education classes.
The organ eventually fell silent due to lack of use, lack of maintenance, and problems with the luminous pistons. When the auditorium was refurbished in 1979, the organ was removed so that the chamber openings could be used for stage lighting trees. It was sold, put into storage, and eventually broken up for parts.

Poly-Technic High School
Estey Organ Company, 1924, Opus 2225

GREAT
8′ Open Diapason I
8′ Open Diapason II
8′ Dulciana
8′ Gemshorn
8′ Gross Flute
8′ Melodia
4′ Flute Harmonic
8′ Tuba
Harp

SWELL
16′ Bourdon
8′ Open Diapason
8′ Salicional
8′ Viole d’Orchestre
8′ Viole Celeste
8′ Stopped Diapason
4′ Flauto Traverso
8′ Oboe (reedless)
8′ Cornopean
8′ Vox Humana
Tremolo
Chimes

CHOIR
8′ Violin Diapason
8′ Viol d’Amour
8′ Clarabella
8′ Unda Maris
4′ Flute d’Amour
8′ Clarinet (reedless)
Tremolo

SOLO
8′ Stentorphone
8′ Gross Gamba
8′ First Violins III
8′ Concert Flute
4′ Wald Flute
2′ Piccolo
8′ Orchestral Oboe
8′ Tuba Mirabilis (reedless)

PEDAL
32′ Resultant
16′ Open Diapason
16′ Bourdon
16′ Lieblich Gedackt (Sw)
8′ Bass Flute
8′ Tuba Mirabilis (Solo)

The Uplifter’s Club
One of a number of organs installed in Los Angeles’s private clubs was this instrument built by the Skinner Organ Company in 1924 for the Uplifter’s Club. Located in the remote Santa Monica Canyon section of Los Angeles, the club was formed in 1913 as a splinter group of the Los Angeles Athletic Club by a number of wealthy members, for “high jinx.”9 Recreational facilities were constructed in the canyon and some members built cabins and cottages to use for weekend retreats.
In 1923 construction on a large clubhouse began and in 1924 the three-manual Skinner organ was installed. The instrument was a large residence-style organ with many duplexed stops and a roll player mechanism. The organ provided music for the relaxation of members, music for skits and plays, and occasionally a local organist was invited in to play a recital of light selections.
During World War II the club began selling off its holdings, and by 1947, it had disbanded. The organ was sold to the First Methodist Church of Glendale, where it was treated to a number of indignities to make the instrument more suitable for church use, the result being at great odds with the original intent of the organ.

The Uplifter’s Club
Skinner Organ Company, 1924, Opus 449

MANUAL I
8′ Diapason
8′ Chimney Flute
8′ Gedackt
8′ Violoncello
8′ Voix Celestes II rks
8′ Flute Celestes II rks
4′ Orchestral Flute
4′ Unda Maris II rks
8′ Vox Humana
8′ French Horn
8′ Tuba
Tremolo
Harp
Celesta
Chimes
Kettle Drums

MANUAL II
8′ Chimney Flute
8′ Violoncello
4′ Orchestral Flute
8′ Corno d’Amore
8′ English Horn
8′ Vox Humana
8′ French Horn
8′ Tuba
Tremolo
Chimes
Kettle Drums

MANUAL III
8′ Diapason
8′ Voix Celestes II rks
8′ Flute Celestes II rks
8′ Gedackt
4′ Unda Maris II rks
Tremolo
Harp
Celesta
Piano (prepared)

PEDAL
16′ Bourdon
16′ Echo Lieblich
16′ Gedackt
8′ Still Gedackt
16′ Trombone (Tuba)

The Elks Club
Located just off the fashionable Wilshire Corridor facing Westlake Park was the Elks Club, a 12-story building constructed in 1926 to contain a lodge hall, dining rooms, lounges, swimming pool, tennis and racquetball courts, a full gymnasium, and residential facilities for members. Entering the building, one encountered a monumental reception hall some 50 feet in height, with a vaulted ceiling painted with scenes from mythology. A wide staircase rose dramatically to the Memorial Room that functioned as a lobby for the lodge room.
On the front page of the Van Nuys News for November 18, 1924 was an article announcing “H. P. Platt, manager of the Robert-Morton Organ Company, announces that his concern has been awarded a contract for constructing a huge pipe organ to be placed in the new Elks Temple of Los Angeles. Specifications for the huge organ will make it the largest unified orchestra pipe organ in the United States. The contract price was said to be $50,000.”
“Unified orchestra pipe organ” is probably the best description for the four-manual, 60-rank organ that the Robert-Morton firm installed in the Elks Club in 1926. The stops are divided into Great, Swell, Choir, Solo and Pedal divisions, but the contents of each are not what one would expect in either a concert or theatre organ.
The main organ is in four chambers, one in each corner of the lodge room, with Echo and Antiphonal divisions speaking through openings centered over the entrance doors. These two divisions were heard in either the lodge room or the Memorial Room by means of dual expression shades. A two-manual console in the Memorial Room played the Echo/Antiphonal divisions so an organist could entertain lodge members lingering in the Memorial area before a meeting without the sound penetrating into the lodge room.
Currently, the instrument is unplayable. The two-manual console has been disconnected and although the four-manual console remains in position, over half of the ivories are missing. Workmen stomping through the pipe chambers on various occasions have trod on many of the smaller pipes, a few sets are missing, and water leaks have damaged other portions of the organ.
Stepping back in time to happier days, we can read about the organ when it was the talk of organ-playing Los Angeles. In December, 1925, a Los Angeles newspaper reported “the new $50,000 organ for the Elk’s great temple will be given its official test before officers of the Elk’s Building Association tomorrow evening. The test recital will be at the plant of the Robert-Morton Organ Company, builders of the instrument. For the benefit of members of the lodge and the public, the recital will be broadcast over KNX radio between 7 and 7:30 o’clock. A half an hour of cathedral and concert music will be played on the huge instrument by Sibley Pease, official organist of the Elk’s lodge.”10
In May 1926, Warren Allen, organist of Stanford University, gave the opening recital, playing compositions by Bach, Boccherini, Saint-Saëns, Douglas, Wagner and ending with the Finale from Vierne’s Symphony No. 1. A reviewer noted that “the organ is an instrument of concert resources and full organ is almost overpowering in tone. It ranks as one of the finest in the city.”11
For many years the organ was used almost every day of the week for lodge meetings, concerts and radio broadcasts. Dwindling membership and the expense of upkeep on the huge Elks building caused the remaining members to find smaller quarters in the late 1960s. Left abandoned for a while, the building has seen use as a YMCA, a retirement center, and a seedy hotel; it is currently being rented for large social events and filming. Due to the extensive damage done to the organ and the great expense of a restoration, this is probably another large, once-popular instrument that will never play again.

Elks Temple, Los Angeles
Robert-Morton Organ Company, 1926

GREAT
16′ Open Diapason
16′ Gamba (TC)
8′ First Diapason
8′ Second Diapason
8′ Tuba
8′ French Horn
8′ Kinura
8′ Gross Flute
8′ Clarinet
8′ Doppel Flute
8′ Gamba
8′ Violin I
8′ Violin II
8′ Violin III
8′ Quintadena
8′ Dulciana
4′ Tuba Clarion
4′ Octave Diapason
4′ Doppel Flute
22⁄3′ Twelfth
2′ Fifteenth
III Cornet
Harp
Glockenspiel
Xylophone
Chimes
Strings F
Great 2nd Touch
8′ Tuba
8′ French Horn
8′ Gross Flute
8′ Gamba

SWELL
16′ Contra Fagotto
16′ Tibia Clausa
16′ Swell Bourdon
16′ Violin (TC)
8′ Trumpet
8′ Open Diapason
8′ Violin
8′ Tibia Mollis
8′ Tibia Clausa
8′ Gedackt
8′ Orchestral Oboe
8′ Vox Humana
8′ Violin I
8′ Violin II
8′ Violin III
8′ Viol d’Orchestre
8′ Viole Celeste
8′ Salicional
8′ Aeoline
4′ Octave Diapason
4′ Tibia Clausa
4′ Bourdon Flute
4′ Flauto Traverso
4′ Vox Humana
4′ Violina
4′ Salicet
22⁄3′ Bourdon Nazard
2′ Bourdon Piccolo
Harp
Glockenspiel
Xylophone
Chimes
Bird
Strings P
Strings MF
Swell 2nd Touch
16′ Fagotto
16′ Trumpet (TC)
16′ Bourdon
8′ Tibia Clausa
4′ Flauto Traverso

CHOIR
16′ Violin (TC)
16′ Double Dulciana
8′ English Diapason
8′ Flugel Horn
8′ Clarabella
8′ Clarinet
8′ Gemshorn
8′ Viola
8′ Violin I
8′ Violin II
8′ Violin III
8′ Dulciana
8′ Unda Maris
4′ Harmonic Flute
4′ Violina
4′ Dulcet
2′ Flageolet
2′ Dolcissimo
Snare Drum Tap
Snare Drum Roll
Tom-Tom
Castanets
Sleigh Bells
Wood Drum
Tambourine
Strings F
Choir 2nd Touch
8′ English Diapason
8′ Flugel Horn
8′ Clarabella
8′ Clarinet

SOLO
8′ Tuba Mirabilis
8′ Stentorphone
8′ Philomela
8′ Gross Gamba
8′ Oboe Horn
4′ Tuba Clarion
4′ Gambette
Chimes

ANTIPHONAL
8′ Trumpet
8′ Open Diapason
8′ Hohl Flute

ECHO
16′ Echo Bourdon
8′ Night Horn
8′ Flute Celeste
8′ Viol Sordino
8′ Vox Humana
4′ Fern Flute
4′ Violetta
Bird

PEDAL
32′ Resultant Bass
16′ Double Open Diapason
16′ Trombone
16′ Pedal Bourdon
16′ Swell Bourdon
16′ Echo Bourdon
16′ Contra Fagotto
16′ Violone
16′ Dulciana
8′ Open Diapason
8′ Tuba
8′ Pedal Flute
8′ Doppel Flute
8′ Echo Bourdon
8′ Cello
8′ Dulciana
4′ Tuba Clarion
4′ Dulcet
III Cornet

Pedal 2nd touch
Bass Drum
Snare Drum
Tympani
Bass Drum/Cymbal
Buttons Above Solo
Klaxon
Telephone
Cow Bell
Bird
Tremolos
Swell
Great
Choir
Solo
Antiphonal
Echo
Swell Vox Humana
Echo Vox Humana
Couplers
Pedal Octaves
Great to Pedal 8, 4
Swell to Pedal 8, 4
Choir to Pedal 8
Solo to Pedal 8
Swell to Swell 16, 4
Choir to Swell 16, 8, 4
Solo to Swell 16, 8, 4
Great to Great 16, 4
Swell to Great 16, 8, 4
Choir to Great 16, 8, 4
Solo to Great 16, 8, 4
Choir to Choir 16, 4
Swell to Choir 16, 8, 4
Solo to Solo 16, 4

Barker Brothers
Barker Brothers, the pre-eminent home furnishings store of Los Angeles, moved into a new building in 1927. Occupying all of 7th Street between Flower and Figueroa Streets, the 12-story façade was in Renaissance Revival style and loosely patterned after the Strozzi Palace in Florence. Entering through the main doors, the visitor stepped into a 40′ high lobby court furnished with leather sofas and chairs, oriental carpets, and a decorated vaulted ceiling.
During the 1920s, Barker Brothers served as the southern California representative for the Welte Organ Company. Their previous store had a Welte organ used to entertain customers, and when Barkers moved out, the instrument was rebuilt into two organs; the main section went, with a new console, to the Pasadena home of Baldwin M. Baldwin, and the Echo division, also provided with a new console, was packed off to Mrs. Belle Malloy in San Pedro.
Barker Brothers’ new store had three Welte organs. In the lobby court was a four-manual, 26-rank concert organ that was played daily for the store’s patrons. The four-manual drawknob console was centered along the east side of the lobby and the chamber openings high on the wall had gold display pipes. A three-manual, nine-rank theatre-style instrument was in a 600-seat auditorium on the 10th floor, and a two-manual, 10-rank organ with player attachment was installed in the interior design studio.
On the evening of March 28, 1927, the three Welte organs were dedicated, beginning with the instrument in the lobby court and then moving to the auditorium organ, where members of the Los Angeles Organists’ Club entertained. Guests were invited to hear the residence organ in the interior design department and enjoy the automatic roll player device.
Among the organists playing the lobby court organ on that evening were Albert Hay Malotte and Alexander Schreiner. Malotte played Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue and the quartet from Verdi’s Rigoletto, but Schreiner no doubt stole the show when he played the “Great” g-minor fugue of Bach and closed the program with Wagner’s Ride of the Valkyries.12
The lobby court organ was very popular with Los Angeles residents and the daily recitals were well attended. Welte designed the instrument for maximum flexibility; the Great and Choir shared stops, while the Swell and Solo were independent divisions, except for the Great Tuba Sonora that was available on the Solo at 16′, 8′ and 4′ pitches.
When the Welte Organ Company closed in 1931, the residence organ was sold to a home in the Brentwood section of the city. The auditorium instrument was eventually sold to the Presbyterian Church in La Canada, but the lobby court organ was kept in use until the early 1950s. After the Second World War, the daily organ recitals were popular with older folks who lived in affordable but respectable downtown residential hotels. The store management felt having pensioners strewn about the lobby lowered the tone of their upscale operation and removed the organ in 1955, selling the console to a private party and the pipe work to a local church.
There was a more insidious reason for removing the Welte organ. Barker Brothers had become the local agents for the new Hammond Chord Organ and didn’t want competition from the “real thing” while an employee was demonstrating the new electric device. The Los Angeles Times for May 12, 1955 announced: “A musical tradition at Barker Bros. has been broken! Barker Bros. pipe organ of some 30 odd years vintage is no longer the cornerstone of the store’s tradition. One fine day it was an impressive part of the main lobby and the next day, the massive monolith was a legend. A compact, sweet little number, modern in design and execution, has replaced the pipe organ. The Hammond Chord Organ now reigns supreme. A representative from Barker’s Piano Salon on the mezzanine floor is in daily attendance at his Chord Organ post.”

Barker Brothers Store
Lobby Court Organ
Welte Organ Company, 1927

GREAT
16′ Double Open Diapason
8′ Principal Diapason
8′ English Diapason
8′ Tibia Minor
8′ Claribel Flute
8′ Viola
4′ Octave
4′ Forest Flute
8′ Tuba Sonora
Harp
Celesta
Piano

SWELL
16′ Lieblich Gedackt
8′ Diapason Phonon
8′ Philomela
8′ Gedackt
8′ Violin II rks
8′ Solo Violin
8′ Salicional
8′ Vox Angelica
4′ Chimney Flute
22⁄3′ Nazard
2′ Flautino
13⁄5′ Tierce
16′ Contra Fagotto
8′ Trumpet
8′ Oboe Horn
8′ Vox Humana
4′ Octave Oboe
Tremolo
Vox Humana Vibrato
Harp
Celesta
Piano

CHOIR
16′ Contra Viol
8′ English Diapason
8′ Tibia Minor
8′ Claribel Flute
8′ Flute Celeste
8′ Viola
8′ Muted Violin
8′ Voix Celeste
8′ Viola
4′ Traverse Flute
2′ Piccolo
8′ Clarinet
Tremolo
Choir 2nd Touch
8′ Principal Diapason
8′ Tibia Minor
8′ Tuba Sonora
8′ Clarinet
Celesta
Chimes
Solo to Choir
Swell to Choir

SOLO
8′ Tibia Clausa
8′ Violoncello
4′ Harmonic Flute
16′ Tuba Profunda
8′ Tuba Sonora
8′ French Horn
8′ English Horn
4′ Cornet
Tremolo
Harp
Celesta
Chimes
Piano

PEDAL
32′ Acoustic Bass
16′ Diaphonic Diapason
16′ Bourdon
16′ Violone (Gt)
16′ Lieblich Gedackt (Sw)
8′ Octave
8′ Flute
8′ Cello (Gt)
8′ Gedackt (Sw)
16′ Tuba Profunda (Solo)
8′ Tuba Sonora (Solo)
4′ Cornet (Solo)
16′ Piano
8′ Piano
Chimes

Organ studios, residences,
theaters
During the 1920s, many American organ builders maintained organ studios in Los Angeles to provide prospective customers with a sample of their wares. The studio usually featured a residence-style organ, complete with automatic player, in a home-like setting. The Skinner Organ Company went so far as to install a residence organ in the home of their local representative, Stanley W. Williams.13 The Aeolian Company displayed their Opus 1740 in the George Birkel Music Company, where fine pianos and phonographs were also available. Wurlitzer had a studio in downtown Los Angeles and a second showroom in the posh Ambassador Hotel, where they installed a Style R16, three-manual, ten-rank residence organ. In an overstuffed room off the hotel’s main lobby, patrons of the hotel could relax and listen to organ music presented several times a day by a member of the Wurlitzer staff.
Residence organs were popular additions to many of the fine homes built in Los Angeles before the Depression hit. Members of the movie colony enjoyed organs in their homes, and the Robert-Morton Company built instruments for Thomas Ince, for Marion Davies’s immense beach house, and for Charlie Chaplin, who used the organ to compose most of the music for his films.
Aeolian had organs in the homes of Harold Lloyd, cowboy actor Dustin Farnum, and Francis Marion Thompson, in addition to instruments in the residences of radio pioneer Earle C. Anthony, oil baron Lee Phillips, department store mogul Arthur Letts, and Willits Hole, who had an Aeolian organ in the art gallery wing of his Fremont Place mansion.
The Estey Organ Company’s sole contribution to the film colony was a small four-rank unified organ in the Hollywood home of “Keystone Kop” Chester Conklin.
There were a number of Welte residence organs scattered around Los Angeles, including a two-manual instrument in the home of John Evans, a property later owned by actress Ann Sheridan and Liberace. The large Welte organ in Lynn Atkinson’s exquisite Louis XVI-style home was in a ballroom that opened onto terraced gardens. The exterior of the estate was used as the television home of the “Beverly Hillbillies,” although the then-current owner finally tossed out the production company because too many tourists were knocking on the front door wanting to meet Jed Clampett.
The largest residence organ in Los Angeles was in the 62-acre estate of Silsby Spalding. The Aeolian organ (Opus 1373) had three manuals, six divisions, a 32′ Open Diapason, and 67 ranks of pipes. It was installed in the Spalding’s large music room in 1919 and spoke through three tall arches faced with ornamental metal grilles.
Two very exclusive and elegant apartment buildings in Los Angeles each had a Robert-Morton organ in the living room of the largest apartment. “La Ronda” and the “Andalusia” were both located on Havenhurst Drive and built in the Spanish style with enclosed gardens and fountains surrounding the apartments. The organ in the Andalusia had four ranks of pipes, a roll playing mechanism plus xylophone, marimba, chimes, celesta, and a small toy counter. La Ronda’s Robert-Morton organ had five ranks of pipes, no roll player, and fewer percussion stops.
There were a number of secular organs that had been planned toward the end of the 1920s, but were never built, and one could argue that with several of the instruments, their early demise was a desirable thing.
During the 1920s, Charles Winder ran the Artcraft Organ Company, a small firm that built garden-variety organs for neighborhood churches throughout southern California. In 1926 Winder announced the formation of a new company, The Symphonaer Company, to build “symphony concert organs.” The announcement continued: “The Symphonaer Concert Organ is described as an instrument that reproduces the true symphony orchestra, giving the effect of every instrument used in the largest of symphony orchestras.” A $1,000,000 plant was to be built offering employment to 100 craftsmen. Joining the venture was the British concert organist Edwin Lemare, who would serve as director of music and specifications. Built alongside the factory would be Symphonaer Hall, a recital hall equipped with a large Symphonaer organ, where Lemare would give frequent recitals and broadcast the instrument over a local radio station.14 The enterprise died in the planning stages and the Artcraft Organ Company went broke in 1928.
Alexander Pantages ordered a five-manual Robert-Morton organ for his spectacular Hollywood Pantages Theatre that opened in 1930. Although the theater was and still is a success, the organ was never built due to the advent of sound films, an expensive lawsuit in which Pantages was involved, and the closing of the Robert-Morton Company. The four large organ chambers remain empty to this day.
The Hollywood Bowl, the world’s largest natural amphitheater, is used as a popular venue for summer concerts, accommodating audiences of up to 18,000. The Hollywood Bowl program for July, 1929, published a letter from the Bowl manager relating that organist Edwin Lemare was working to interest the Hollywood Bowl Association in installing an outdoor organ in the amphitheater. The letter went on to state that Lemare had prevailed on an organ builder to install an organ in the Bowl provided that $10,000 was spent to build enclosures for the instrument.15 Fortunately, the scheme never progressed past the planning stage.

Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum
In the late 1920s, the Welte Organ Company submitted a proposal to the Civic Bureau of Music and Art of Los Angeles to build a five-manual outdoor organ for the Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum.16 The Coliseum, opened in 1923, covers a total of 17 acres and originally seated 76,000. Although there is nothing in the proposal stating where the organ would be located in the huge stadium, concrete enclosures may have been planned in and around the Peristyle, a focal point along the east end of the huge structure.
The installation of an organ in the Coliseum would have been an even greater acoustical nightmare than an organ in the Hollywood Bowl. Among the features of the proposed specification was a fifth manual called “Orchestral” that was home to four separately enclosed divisions, Diapason, Brass, String and Woodwind, three of which had their own pedal sections. The console would have stopkeys placed on angled jambs and a remote combination action. Nothing ever came of the proposal, and the 1929 stock market crash and closing of the Welte Corporation in 1931 sealed the instrument’s fate.
The proposal reads:

The Welte Organ Company, Inc., hereby agrees to build for the Civic Bureau of Music and Art, Los Angeles, California; herein referred to as Purchaser, and to install in the Coliseum, Los Angeles, California—ONE WELTE PIPE ORGAN. Ready to use and in accordance with the following specifications, viz: Manuals, five, compass CC to C4, 61 notes; Pedals, compass CCC to G, 32 notes; the windchests of manuals affected by octave couplers to be extended one octave above the compass of the keyboard, to 73 notes. Electro-pneumatic action throughout. Philharmonic pitch A-440. Console type, concert; stop control, stopkeys and tablets. Combination action adjustable at the console, visibly affecting the registers. Remote control inside setter.

Los Angeles Coliseum

GREAT - Manual II
16′ Double Diapason
16′ Bourdon
8′ First Diapason
8′ Second Diapason
8′ Third Diapason
8′ Violoncello
8′ Double Flute
8′ Clarabella
51⁄3′ Quint
4′ First Octave
4′ Second Octave
4′ Third Octave
4′ Tibia Plena
4′ Harmonic Flute
31⁄5′ Tenth
22⁄3′ Twelfth
2′ Fifteenth
V Plein Jeu
V Cymbale
16′ Double Trumpet
8′ Tromba
4′ Clarion
8′ Grand Piano
4′ Grand Piano
Minor Chimes
Great 2nd Touch
Diapason Section
Brass Section
String Section
Woodwind Section
Solo to Great 8
Tower Chime
2′ Glockenspiel

SWELL - Manual III
16′ Quintaton
16′ Contra Viola
8′ Open Diapason
8′ Horn Diapason
8′ Viola da Gamba
8′ Salicional
8′ Voix Celeste
8′ Tibia Clausa
8′ Harmonic Flute
4′ Octave
4′ Geigen Principal
4′ Salicet II rks
4′ Flute Couverte
4′ Traverse Flute
31⁄5′ Tenth
22⁄3′ Twelfth
2′ Fifteenth
2′ Piccolo
VI Mixture
16′ Contra Posaune
8′ Cornopean
8′ Trumpet
8′ Oboe Horn
8′ Vox Humana II rks
4′ Clarion
8′ Grand Piano
4′ Grand Piano
Swell 2nd Touch
Diapason Section
Brass Section
String Section
Woodwind Section
Solo to Swell 8
Chimes
2′ Glockenspiel

CHOIR - Manual I
16′ Waldhorn
8′ Open Diapason
8′ Waldhorn
8′ Tibia Minor
8′ Viol d’Orchestre
8′ Violes Celestes II rks
8′ Claribel Flute
8′ Quintaphon
4′ Octave
4′ Wald Flute
4′ Violin
22⁄3′ Twelfth
2′ Fifteenth
2′ Flageolet
13⁄5′ Seventeenth
11⁄7′ Septieme
1′ Twenty-Second
16′ Contra Fagotto
8′ Clarinet
8′ Vox Humana II rks
4′ Clarion
Minor Chimes
2′ Glockenspiel
8′ Grand Piano
4′ Grand Piano
2′ Xylophone
Snare Drum, Tap
Snare Drum, Roll
Choir 2nd Touch
Diapason Section
Brass Section
String Section
Woodwind Section
Solo to Choir
Chimes
2′ Glockenspiel
Snare Drum, Roll
Triangle

SOLO - Manual IV
16′ Violone
8′ Diapason Magna
8′ Tibia Plena
8′ Solo Gamba
8′ Gamba Celestes II rks
8′ Harmonic Flute
4′ Octave
4′ Concert Flute
4′ Solo Violin
III Cornet
16′ Ophicleide
8′ Tuba Mirabilis
8′ Tuba Sonora
8′ Military Trumpet
8′ French Horn
8′ Orchestral Oboe
4′ Clarion

ORCHESTRAL - Manual V
Diapason Section
16′ Major Diapason
8′ Double Languid Diapason I
8′ Double Languid Diapason II
8′ Diapason Phonon
8′ Open Diapason
8′ Geigen Principal
4′ Double Languid Octave
4′ Octave
22⁄3′ Twelfth
2′ Fifteenth
11⁄3′ Nineteenth
1′ Twenty-Second
IX Grand Chorus
Diapason Section Pedal
16′ Diaphonic Diapason
16′ Diapason
102⁄3′ Quint
8′ Diapason Octave
8′ Octave
4′ Super Octave

Brass Section
16′ Trombone
16′ Serpent
8′ Tuba Magna
8′ Tuba Sonora
8′ Tuba Mirabilis
8′ French Trumpet
8′ Muted Trumpet
8′ Post Horn
8′ French Horn (closed tone)
8′ French Horn (open tone)
51⁄3′ Corno Quint
4′ Tuba Clarion
4′ Trumpet Clarion
22⁄3′ Corno Twelfth
2′ Cor Octave
Brass Section Pedal
32′ Contra Bombarde
16′ Bombarde
16′ Trombone
8′ Trumpet

String Section
16′ Contra Basso
16′ Violin Diapason
16′ Contra Viola
8′ Violin Diapason
8′ Violin Diapason Celeste
8′ Violoncello I
8′ Violoncello II
8′ Cello Celestes II rks
8′ Nazard Gamba
8′ Gamba Celeste
8′ First Violin
8′ Second Violin
8′ Third Violin
8′ Violin Celestes II rks
8′ First Viola
8′ Second Viola
8′ Viola Celestes II rks
8′ Muted Violins III rks
4′ String Octave
4′ Violins II rks
4′ Muted Violins III rks
2′ String Fifteenth
III Cornet des Violes
String Section Pedal
32′ String Diaphone
16′ Double Bass
16′ Violone
8′ Cello

Woodwind Section
16′ Bassoon
16′ Bass Saxophone
8′ First Saxophone
8′ Second Saxophone
4′ Soprano Saxophone
8′ English Horn
16′ Bass Clarinet
8′ Basset Horn
8′ First Clarinet
8′ Second Clarinet
8′ Orchestral Oboe
8′ Kinura
8′ Orchestral Flute
4′ Solo Flute
2′ Solo Piccolo

PEDAL
64′ Gravissima
32′ Diaphone
32′ Violone
16′ Diaphone
16′ Major Bass
16′ Diapason
16′ Violone
16′ Contra Basso (String)
16′ Tibia Clausa
16′ Wald Horn (Ch)
16′ Bourdon
16′ Contra Viola (String)
102⁄3′ Quint
8′ Diaphone
8′ Principal
8′ Octave
8′ Violoncello
8′ Wald Horn (Ch)
8′ Flute
51⁄3′ Octave Quint
4′ Super Octave
4′ Fifteenth
4′ Tibia Flute
V Harmonics
V Fourniture
32′ Contra Bombarde
16′ Bombarde
16′ Tuba Profunda
16′ Serpent (Brass)
16′ Ophicleide (Solo)
16′ Double Trumpet (Gt)
16′ Contra Posaune (Sw)
16′ Contra Fagotto (Ch)
8′ Bombarde
8′ Tuba Sonora
4′ Bombarde
4′ Cornet
16′ Grand Piano
8′ Grand Piano
Bass Drum, Stroke

Pedal 2nd Touch
64′ Gravissima
32′ Diaphone
32′ Contra Bombarde
Solo to Pedal 8
Solo to Pedal 4
Diapason Section 8
Diapason Section 4
Brass Section 8
Brass Section 4
Tower Chimes
Minor Chimes
Thunder Drum, Stroke
Thunder Drum, Roll
Kettle Drum, Roll
Chinese Gong
Persian Cymbal
Vibratos
Choir
Choir Vox Humana
Swell
Swell Vox Humana
Solo
Woodwind
String, Fast
String, Slow

Conclusion
The stories of these instruments testify to the near-ubiquity of the pipe organ early in the twentieth century, including its use in films and stage shows. Even film actors owned and played pipe organs, in a golden age that now survives only in recollections such as this.