In the Wind

John Bishop is executive director of the Organ Clearing House.

Of the people, by the people, for the people . . . 

. . . that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.

These words from Abraham Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address are in tribute to those killed during the pivotal Battle of Gettysburg of the American Civil War. In the eulogy he delivered after Lincoln’s assassination, Massachusetts Senator Charles Sumner said, “The world noticed at once what he said, and will never cease to remember it. The battle itself was less important than the speech.” Sumner’s other claim to fame is as namesake of the Sumner Tunnel that connects downtown Boston to Logan Airport by passing under Boston Harbor.

Perhaps it’s rare for words like these to appear in the pages of a trade journal, and in today’s volatile political climate I know very well that I tread on dangerous ground. The relationship between politics and religion is strong and prevalent, though the United States Constitution specifically calls for the two to be separate. The differences in worship styles between Northeastern Anglicans and Southeastern Evangelicals are as vast as the wide range of styles found in the world of the pipe organ.

Like it or not, the pipe organ has been associated primarily with the church for some five hundred years. It’s hard to imagine what the pipe organ would be today were it not for the influence of the church. From the late Renaissance to the modern day, most of the music written for the organ comes from the church, and by extension, most of the organ music we might consider secular couldn’t have happened had the church not provided us with the parade of instruments that is our history. One might argue that the organ symphonies of Vierne or Widor are not ecclesiastical music, but without the Cavaillé-Coll organs in the grand churches of St. Sulpice and Notre Dame in Paris, I doubt those two masters would have gotten it together to write that music.

Some twenty years ago my friend and colleague, the widely respected organ historian Barbara Owen, commented, “We have to get the organ out of the church.” I was dumbfounded—I guess because I found I was too dumb to understand what she meant. How could the organ possibly survive without the church? It was the comment of another friend and colleague, Steven Dieck, President of C.B. Fisk, Inc., that enlightened me a little. To paraphrase Steve’s comment, large portions of modern society might never have the chance to hear a pipe organ—those people who would never be caught dead in church, or more to the point, those who would only be caught dead in church! After all, some people never go into a church unless they’re in a coffin.

The organs we find in concert halls, university auditoriums, and increasingly rarely, in municipal auditoriums are available to the general public without risk of exposure to the perceived perils of organized worship, and it’s the municipal organ that is of the people, by the people, and for the people.

The first American municipal organ appeared in 1864 when E. & G. G. Hook built a four-manual organ with 64 stops for Mechanics Hall in Worcester, Massachusetts. That organ was restored by the Noack Organ Company in 1982 and is still very much in use. Records show that Roosevelt built an organ with 129 stops for the Chicago Auditorium in 1889, the year that Benjamin Harrison was inaugurated as America’s twenty-third president, and three years after the dedication of the Statue of Liberty. I don’t know how many organs that large had been built before 1889—but it sure must have stood out as one of the great cultural icons of its day. And with what I know about the organs built by Hilborne Roosevelt, it must have been a knockout.

In 1882, Thomas Edison proved the practicality of the commercial and residential use of electricity by installing electric lighting in the home of J. P. Morgan at the corner of Madison Avenue and 36th Street in New York. When the Roosevelt organ was built, the development of electrical applications was still in its infancy—the organ had tracker action. That’s a huge organ. The stoplist shows that there were indicators for low, medium, and high wind pressures—imagine the army of people needed to pump that organ.

In 1921 E. M. Skinner built a five-manual instrument with 150 stops for the new 13,000-seat Municipal Auditorium in Cleveland. Those were the days before radio and recordings, and it was expensive to hear the few great symphony orchestras across the country, so the municipal organ was the only way for many to hear live performances of great music. Accounts of the introduction of that organ give us a glimpse into the popularity of the public pipe organ. Following the dedication of the organ, Harold MacDowell, the Cleveland City Architect wrote: 

Despite the oppressive heat, the crowd which had been collecting since noon soon exceeded the capacity of the mammoth hall and long before the time set for the inaugural recital all seats were filled and more than 5000 men, women, and children were crowding the corridors of the colossal structure. The police which were out in large numbers were at first able to hold the crowd into a semblance of order, but soon gave up in despair as the eager mob swept all before it.¹

That means there were at least 18,000 people in attendance. A riot before an organ recital? Wow!

It wasn’t only big cities that had municipal organs. Melrose, Massachusetts is about seven miles north of Boston. Today there are around 29,000 residents. In 1919 when the Austin Organ Company installed the 78-stop organ in Soldiers and Sailors Hall, just over 18,000 people lived in Melrose. As we learned in Cleveland, that’s just enough to make an audience.

If you’re interested in reading more about this heritage, visit the website www.municipalorgans.net, where you’ll find a chronological list of American Municipal Pipe Organs. You can click your way further in to find stoplists and histories of most of the instruments. Thanks to the creators of that website for making so much information available. I’m sure that was a labor of love!

Two cities in the United States still have important secular organs with seated municipal organists: San Diego, California and Portland, Maine. San Diego is home to the Spreckels Organ, housed in the Spreckels Organ Pavilion at Balboa Park. It’s one of the world’s largest outdoor organs, and though it must compete with the flight paths of San Diego International Airport, it remains a popular attraction. Municipal Organist Carol Williams and visiting artists offer weekly concerts. Like so many other cities, San Diego has been struggling to manage a deficit budget, and after much well-reported arguing, the City Council voted in 2011 to renew Williams’ contract for ten years, continuing the city’s sizable contribution to her salary. You can read an article about the city’s decision in the San Diego Union Times at https://www.utsandiego.com/news/2011/aug/02/civic-organist-contract-renewed/?ap. The article cites that the city has a $40,000,000 deficit—but they approved funding of $286,000 for a ten-year contract for Williams. Compare that to Alex Rodriguez (aka A-Rod) of the New York Yankees who was paid $33,000,000 in 2009. That’s more than $203,000 per game, which is close to ten years for Carol Williams. According to www.baseball-reference.com, A-Rod’s aggregate salary as a baseball player is $296,416,252. That’s enough money for a thousand municipal organists for ten years. Play ball!

As the weather in Portland, Maine is nothing like that of San Diego, Portland’s Kotzschmar Organ is indoors, located in Merrill Auditorium of City Hall. Housed in an elegant case at the rear of the stage, and sporting a five-manual drawknob console, this grand instrument is the pride of its city. And while San Diego has just over 3,000,000 residents, the entire State of Maine has about 1,300,000 people, 64,000 of whom live in Portland, the largest city in the state. To put the scale of the state in closer perspective, the capital city of Augusta has 18,500 residents! 

The institution that was Curtis

Cyrus H. K. Curtis grew up in Portland, Maine. His father Cyrus Libby Curtis was an interior decorator and amateur musician who met the struggling immigrant musician Hermann Kotzschmar in Boston, and offered to help him establish himself in Portland. Kotzschmar became conductor and pianist for the Union Street Theatre Orchestra, in which Curtis played the trombone, and organist and choirmaster of the First Parish Church (Unitarian) where Curtis sang in the choir. Can you detect a pattern? As Kotzschmar was gaining traction in Portland, he lived with the Curtis family, and Cyrus Libby Curtis gave his son the name of his favorite musician, hence the initials H.K.

In the ensuing years, Kotzschmar founded choral societies and orchestras, performed as conductor, organist, and pianist in countless concerts, and taught a generation of the city’s musicians.

Meanwhile, Cyrus H. K. Curtis really made something of himself. He founded the Curtis Publishing Company in 1891 and subsequently launched the Saturday Evening Post and the Ladies’ Home Journal. Later he founded Curtis-Martin Newspapers, Inc., whose properties included the Philadelphia Inquirer and the New York Evening Post. Cyrus
H. K. Curtis made a lot of money, and he carried the musical influence of Hermann Kotzschmar all his life. He purchased three pipe organs for his home in Wyncote, Pennsylvania (Aeolian, Opus 784, 943, and 1374); he donated a 160-stop Austin organ to the University of Pennsylvania where it still stands, recently renovated, in Irvine Auditorium. He gave huge amounts of money to the Philadelphia Orchestra, and his daughter Mary Louise Curtis Bok founded the Curtis Institute of Music, named in honor of her father. Hers was a particularly classy honor as the Curtis Institute was founded nine years before her father’s death!

§

At about 2:00 in the morning on January 24, 1908, a fire started in the city electrician’s office in Portland’s City Hall, ironically caused by an electrical short-circuit in the Gamewell Fire Alarm System that was housed in the office (pesky new-fangled contraptions). Because the alarm system was the first thing to go, the fire quickly went out of control and City Hall was destroyed. Coincidentally, Hermann Kotzschmar died on April 15, 1908. After plenty of discussion, the remains of the building were razed and the cornerstone for the new City Hall was laid on October 6, 1909, and on January 10, 1911, former Mayor Adam Leighton announced that Portland native Cyrus Curtis was donating a pipe organ to be installed in Merrill Auditorium of the new City Hall in memory of Portland’s most prominent musician.

The new City Hall was dedicated on August 22, 1912. Municipal Organist Will C. Macfarlane was at the organ. The program included Macfarlane’s performance of Boëllmann’s Suite Gothique, a report from the city building committee (Adam Leighton, chairman), presentation of keys to the building by Owen Brainard of the architecture firm Carrere and Hastings (designers of the New York Public Library and the House and Senate Office Buildings in Washington, D.C.), presentation of the organ by Cyrus Curtis, unveiling of the Hermann Kotzschmar bust by his widow Mary, and acceptance of the whole shebang by Mayor Oakley Curtis (no relation). Macfarlane also played his own compositions Evening Bells and Cradle Song, and a transcription of Kotzschmar’s Te Deum in F. Judge Joseph Symonds gave an oration, and representing the Catholic Bishop of Portland, Rev. Martin A. Clary gave the prayer and benediction. Must have been a lovely afternoon.²

§

In January of 2007, the FOKO board asked the organ committee to investigate the possibility of some additions and major repairs to the organ. Specialists were called in to assess the questions and replied that the general condition of the organ was poor enough to make the work feasible. FOKO responded by inviting a group of widely respected experts to participate in a public symposium in August 2007 to discuss the organ in detail and develop recommendations for the future of the instrument. The participants were Joe Dzeda, Nick Thompson-Allen, Jonathan Ambrosino, Walt Strony, Curt Mangel, Peter Conte, and Tom Murray. Craig Whitney of the New York Times served as scribe and followed the event with a written report. As chair of the organ committee, I was moderator of the event. After years of study, the Friends of the Kotzschmar Organ and the City of Portland announced plans for the renovation of the organ. In September 2011, Portland’s City Council approved a grant of $1.25 million for the project. Just before the Council meeting, Mayor Nicolas Mavodone, City Manager Mark Rees, and two members of the City Council joined me on the stage of Merrill Auditorium for a tour of the organ. The mayor marveled at the thousands of pipes, took a slew of photos with his cell phone, and commented that he had stood on the stage dozens of times presiding over civic events without having any idea what was behind the organ case. He repeated those comments for the City Council and the members approved the funding unanimously. Watching both elected and appointed city officials discuss and approve the motion to care for that organ at such a meaningful level was a great experience for an organbuilder.   

FOKO is raising the balance to fund not only the organ’s renovation but to endow the positions of Municipal Organist and Organ Curator, and to extend the organization’s ambitious and effective education programs, bringing Maine’s schoolchildren together with the King of Instruments.

The renovation of the organ will be accomplished by Foley-Baker, Inc., of Tolland, Connecticut. Having completed similar projects on the organs of the First Church of Christ, Scientist in Boston (The Mother Church), Symphony Hall in Boston, and the Aeolian organ in the Chapel of Duke University, Mike Foley and the staff of FBI bring vast experience to this project.

To commemorate the centennial, FOKO will present a Centennial Festival of concerts and masterclasses starting on Friday, August 17, 2012, and culminating with a grand Kotzschmar Centennial Concert on the actual anniversary, Wednesday, August 22. Participating artists and presenters include Tom Trenney, Walt Strony, Mike Foley, Dave Wickerham, Frederick Hohman, Michael Barone, Thomas Heywood, Peter Conte, John Weaver, Felix Hell, John Bishop, and Ray Cornils.  

The festival will be housed at Portland’s Holiday Inn By the Bay. Details will be announced soon. Like a hawk, you should watch the website of the Friends of the Kotzschmar Organ, www.foko.org. Summer in Maine is as good as it gets, the Kotzschmar Organ is a grand instrument, soon to be prepared for its second century. And you’ll never have a better chance to gather with such a list of luminaries in such an intimate city. Hope to see you there.

The high cost of beauty

When the tomb of Pharaoh Tutankhamun was discovered in 1922, the world went agog over the dazzling beauty of the artifacts that had been hidden since his death some 3,300 years earlier. There were large pieces of gilded furniture, ornate masks, jewelry, and lots of hieroglyphics and paintings. The level of craftsmanship was bewildering, given the degree of antiquity. Other members of Egyptian royalty were buried in similarly grand circumstances, in tombs located under the great pyramids. And who built the pyramids? Slaves.

Big-time personal money always has and always will be part of the arts world. If there had been no Medici dynasty, we wouldn’t have had Michelangelo, Leonardo, Brunelleschi, and Donatello, to name just a few. How did the Medici make their money? They were bankers, the wealthiest family in Europe. They parlayed their wealth into political influence, and many family members became important politicians. The family even produced four popes in the sixteenth century. If that implies it was possible to purchase a papacy, I’m surprised that Silvio Berlusconi didn’t try it. A family tree I found online shows more than twenty generations of Medici between 1360 and about 1725. 

We’ve learned a lot about the ethics of banking and investment in recent years, where executives use their clients’ money to leverage their own fortunes, bring down institutions, and go home with bonuses that equal the annual wages of hundreds of normal workers. I’m not setting about a researched dissertation on the source of the Medici’s money, but I’m willing to bet that much of it came at the expense of others.

Heavy metal

The Carnegie Steel Company was one of the country’s first major producers of steel, and in the late 1880s and early 1890s, it developed important improvements in the manufacturing process, including open-hearth smelting and installation of advanced material handling systems like overhead cranes and hoists. The result was higher production levels using increasingly less skilled labor, and the Amalgamated Association of Iron and Steel Workers struck against the Homestead Steel Works. There were various waves of strikes, and at first the union prevailed. 

Henry Clay Frick ran the Carnegie Steel Company for his eponymous partner. He announced on April 30, 1892, that he would keep negotiations open with the union for thirty days, and on June 29, he locked down the plant and the union announced a strike. Frick engaged the Pinkerton National Detective Agency to provide security, and more than three hundred armed Pinkerton agents were involved in bloody battles with striking workers. The Pinkerton force surrendered, and the governor sent in the State Militia and declared martial law. There was a failed assassination attempt against Frick. The union was broken and collapsed about ten years later. 

It was important to Andrew Carnegie and Henry Clay Frick to beat down the union because they had their lifestyles to maintain. Carnegie built a majestic home on Fifth Avenue at 91st Street in New York (now the Cooper-Hewitt National Design Museum) in which he installed a large Aeolian pipe organ. He paid about $65,000 for the organ at the time when workers in the Aeolian factory earned about $600 a year. Hmmm. The organ cost as much as the annual wages of more than a hundred workers. Not as bad as King Tut, but sounds about right.

Henry Clay Frick installed a large Aeolian in his gracious home on Fifth Avenue at 70th Street (now housing the Frick Collection, commonly known as “The Frick”). These guys really knew how to build houses. Hank and Andy must have warmed each other’s hearts living just twenty blocks apart—an easy twenty-minute walk, just long enough to smoke a hundred-dollar cigar (six weeks for that Aeolian worker). Frick also built a tremendous Aeolian in his summer home at Manchester-by-the-Sea in Massachusetts and gave a four-manual job to Princeton University. That’s four big pipe organs built on the backs of striking steel workers.

Three years before the Homestead Strike, Andrew Carnegie paid about $1,000,000 to buy the land and construct the venerable Manhattan concert hall that bears his name. The place was owned by the Carnegie family until 1925 when they sold it to a real estate developer.

I’m giving Mr. Carnegie a hard time, because at least some of his business practices were mighty ruthless, and the mind-boggling wealth that he accumulated was not a reflection on his largess. But it’s important to remember that he was also an important philanthropist and the foundation that was founded on his fortune is still a major source of grants for all sorts of educational programs, scientific research, and artistic endeavors. Visit the website at www.carnegie.org.

I served a church in Cleveland as music director for about ten years, where a four-manual Austin was installed as a gift from the Carnegie Foundation in 1917. The Bach scholar Albert Riemenschneider of Baldwin-Wallace College was organist there when the instrument was installed—the perfect organ for a performance of Bach’s Orgelbüchlein.

Among many other projects, Andrew Carnegie and the Carnegie Foundation installed more than 8,800 pipe organs in America’s churches and founded more than 2,500 public libraries. That’s important.

Moving musical chairs.

On Thursday, October 3, 2013, Wendy and I attended a concert of the American Symphony Orchestra at Carnegie Hall to hear Stephen Tharp play the Symphony for Organ and Orchestra of Aaron Copland. Until about three o’clock that afternoon it was doubtful that the concert would happen because Carnegie Hall’s stagehands had struck the night before, causing the cancellation of the concert on October 2. They were striking over the rules for soon-to-be-opened educational spaces above the hall, claiming that they should have the same jurisdiction as in the great hall itself. Carnegie Hall’s management took the position that as it would be an educational venue, Local 1 of the International Alliance of Theatrical Stage Employees should not have such control. It’s probably not this simple, but should Theatrical Stage people control educational spaces?

The New York Times reported that Carnegie Hall employs five full-time stagehands with average annual compensations of more than $400,000 a year, with additional part-time union members brought in as needed. I know a lot of organbuilders who would make great stagehands, and Wendy was quick to say that I missed my calling.

The strike was settled in time for us to hear Stephen play with the American Symphony Orchestra. The New York Times reported that the union backed off, as it seemed ridiculous to almost anyone that a teenaged music student would not be allowed to move a music stand. You can read about that strike in the New York Times at: www.nytimes.com/2013/10/05/arts/music/carnegie-hall-and-stagehands-sett….

It’s an exquisite irony that the October 2 concert cancelled because of the strike was to be a gala celebratory fundraiser for the Philadelphia Orchestra, recently revitalized after years of labor disputes. Yannick Nézet-Séguin was to open his second season as music director in what was billed as the triumphant return of that great orchestra to its role as a national leader.

Vänskä-daddle

On October 3, 2013, the Minneapolis Star Tribune reported that Osmo Vänskä had resigned from his position as music director of the Minneapolis Symphony Orchestra. His action was anticipated. The musicians had been locked out by the Board of Directors for more than a year in a dispute that pitted the player’s requests for salary increases against the board’s decision to spend $52,000,000 renovating the concert hall while claiming there were no funds to increase salaries.

The orchestra had long planned to play a series of concerts at Carnegie Hall in New York during the fall of 2013. Ironically, Vänskä was widely celebrated for having brought the MSO into new prominence with several seasons of brilliant performances and celebrated recordings, and the Carnegie Hall concerts were to celebrate the MSO’s bursting into the upper echelons of American symphony orchestras. Vänskä had announced that the dispute must be settled so rehearsals for those concerts could begin on September 30. If not, he would resign. It wasn’t, and he did. Former Senator George Mitchell, famous for negotiating settlements of disputes in Northern Ireland and steroid use in Major League Baseball, had been enlisted to help with the MSO negotiations—turned out that Northern Ireland had nothing on the MSO.

In the past several years, a number of important orchestras have suffered serious financial stress leading to labor disputes, including the orchestras in Philadelphia, Atlanta, San Francisco, Indianapolis, St. Louis, and Chicago. 

Eerily, on September 30, 2013, the same drop-dead-date for Väskä’s resignation, Norman Ebrecht of ArtsJournalBlogs reported that players in one hundred German orchestras struck simultaneously to draw attention to the increasing number of orchestras closing because of dwindling government support. There were 168 orchestras in Germany at the time of reunification in 1991, and there are 131 today. It’s a big deal to lose nearly forty orchestras in twenty years.

Do the numbers.

I love to do goofy math. In the 1970s when I lived on a farm outside Oberlin, Ohio, I wondered how much corn might grow in a day. I measured a couple dozen plants in the morning, then again in the evening, and came up with an average amount of growth. I measured and multiplied to get the number of plants in an acre, then again by the number of acres on the farm. Of course I can’t remember the numbers, but I know it added up to many miles of growth in a day. You could almost hear it while lying in bed at night.

I did that recently with the economics of a symphony orchestra. I found a list online of American orchestras with the largest operating budgets. Los Angeles tops that list at $97,000,000. Boston is second at $84,000,000. I stuck with Boston because it’s home, and I got the rest of the information I needed. The BSO plays about a hundred concerts a year—that’s $840,000 each. Symphony Hall seats about 2,600 people. The average ticket price is around $75, so ticket revenue for a full house is about $195,000. That’s a shortfall of $645,000 per concert that must be made up by private and corporate donations, campaigns, bar and restaurant revenues, and heaven knows what else—if they sell out each concert. Read the program booklet of the BSO and you’ll be surprised how many of the orchestra’s chairs are “fully funded in perpetuity,” named for their donors. Three cheers for them.

I know very well that this is bogus math. There are many variables that I’ve overlooked, and doubtless many of which I am not aware—but I think it’s a reasonable off-the-cuff illustration of the challenges of large-scale music-making in modern society. You can buy a pretty snazzy new pipe organ for the $645,000 that’s missing for each BSO concert after ticket sales.

While I was surfing about looking for those numbers, I learned that the starting salary for a musician in the Boston Symphony Orchestra is about $135,000. That’s pretty good when compared to the Alabama Symphony Orchestra where the starting salary is more like $48,000. I suppose that senior members of the BSO must earn over $200,000. In the business world, concertmaster Malcolm Lowe would qualify as an Executive Vice President and head of a department—worth $250,000 or $300,000, I’d say. But not as much as a stagehand. 

I guess I’m laboring under an old-fashioned concept that the artistic content should be worth more than the support staff. Big-time stagehands are hardworking people with important jobs. It’s not just anyone who can be trusted to fling high-end harps around a stage. But how many church choir directors would like to have someone else available to set up the chairs?

If the cost of operating a symphony orchestra seems high, get a load of the Metropolitan Opera. I found an article in the New York Times published on October 1, 2011, that put the Met’s annual budget at $325,000,000, of which $182,000,000 is from private donations. The Met had just passed New York’s Metropolitan Museum of Art as the arts organization with the largest budget. (Counting baseball, New York City has three Mets.)

I found a page on the Met (opera) website that listed the administrative staff, which includes the General Manager (Peter Gelb), Musical Director (James Levine), and Principal Conductor (Fabio Luisi), along with twenty-five assistant general managers, artistic management, design, production, finance, development, human resources, house management, stage directors, stage management, carpenters, electricians—a total of more than three hundred administrative employees. Add a symphony orchestra, costumes, make-up, custodians, ticket sellers, and—oh yes—singers, and you wind up with a whopping payroll.

Since I’m not a stagehand, I pretended I was going to buy one ticket online. I chose a performance of La Bohème on Saturday, March 22, 2014, at 8:00 p.m. I couldn’t choose between a seat in Row B of the Orchestra (down front, near the stage) for $300, or one in Orchestra Row U for $250. And nearly half of the operating budget is funded by donations. If you take a date and have a nice dinner and a glass of wine at intermission, that’s pretty much a thousand-dollar night, something stagehands could afford if they could get the night off.

§

The source of much of the money that has funded the arts over many centuries is questionable, and it’s especially difficult to accept how much of has been the product of slavery. But scary as that is, I’m sure glad we had the Medicis and hundreds of others like them. It would be a barren world without the art and architecture that they funded. I have to admit that when I’m standing in a museum looking at a work of art, I’m not fretting about the suffering involved in its production.

Today’s system seems more just—concert-goers buy tickets, and corporate and individual sponsors theoretically make up the rest. That works as long as costs are reasonably controlled, and donors can be kept happy. The problem with that is how it can affect programming. 

If you listen regularly to a commercial classical radio station anywhere in the country, you would be able to list society’s favorite pieces of music: Vivaldi’s Four Seasons, Beethoven’s 3rd, 5th, 6th, and 9th, Mozart’s 40th Symphony and 23rd Piano Concerto, Respighi’s Ancient Airs and Dances—you get the idea. Organists know how hard it is to get a bride to choose something other than the Taco-Bell Canon, or Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring.

Lots of serious classical music ensembles, from local choruses to major symphony orchestras, adjust their programming to please their patrons. The box office at Boston Symphony Hall has a long-standing tradition allowing people to pass on their subscription seats to friends. When James Levine came to town as music director of the Boston Symphony Orchestra, he increased dramatically the amount of contemporary music on the programs, and friends of ours who had long held great seats on the balcony above the stage asked if we wanted to take them over because they couldn’t take all the modern music. We did.

And, in a related matter, the players of the BSO made public the extra workload brought on by Levine’s energetic and imaginative programming. On March 17, 2005, the Boston Globe reported that orchestra players were concerned about longer concerts, extra rehearsals, and programming of exceptionally difficult music. You can read it online at www.boston.com/news/globe/living/articles/2005/03/17/levines_pace_prove…. They cited aggravation of injuries and increased stress and negotiated with Levine to alter some of the planned programs. And the BSO Trustees created a special fund to support the cost of the extra rehearsal time. But smaller institutions with limited resources would not be able to do the same. So it’s back to the crowd-pleasing favorites at the cost of innovation.

I’ve often repeated a story about an experience Wendy and I had with artistic patronage. An exceptionally wealthy friend, now deceased, was well known in his community as a generous supporter of the arts. He lived in a city that is home to a nationally prominent repertory theater company that was mounting the premiere production of Paula Vogel’s The Long Christmas Ride Home. The play tells the story of a family’s gay son contracting AIDS, with the main dialogue happening in the family car driving home from a holiday celebration. The production was to include larger-than-life bunraku puppets that would provide the action less suited for the stage, conceived by the playwright, to be constructed by a New York-based puppeteer. Our friend was asked to fund the puppets, which were to cost nearly a hundred thousand dollars. He told us the story over dinner, saying that he hated the idea, was uncomfortable with the subject, but thought he should provide the funds because he knew it was important.

§

Recently organist David Enlow and harpist Grace Cloutier performed a recital at David’s home church, Church of the Resurrection in Manhattan, where the Organ Clearing House installed an instrument a couple years ago. At dinner after the concert, we were discussing the instruments we play, and I noted that with the exception of pianos and high-end violins, the harp is probably one of the most expensive instruments that musicians typically own privately. Organists have to rely on the institutions for which they work to provide them with an instrument to play. And they sure have gotten expensive.

I’ve always felt that a three-manual organ with forty or fifty stops is just about right for a prominent suburban church with a sanctuary seating five hundred people or more. But a first quality organ of that size will push, and easily exceed, $1,000,000. It’s pretty hard for many parishes to justify such a whopping expenditure. I grew up in the era when it was all the rage for churches to replace fifty-year-old electro-pneumatic organs with new trackers, and many organists fell into the habit of getting what they asked for. Those days are largely over, because now that we really know how to build good organs of any description, we also know what they cost! We have to remember what a big deal it is for a church to order a new instrument.

§

I’m troubled by the striking stagehands. I believe in the concept of the labor union. They were formed to confront real injustice, and in the strange and shaky state of our economy, injustices are still firmly in place. But this is a time when they’ve gone too far. That kind of labor organizing can threaten the future of live music in concert halls.

The Organ Clearing House uses Bank of America because we work all across the country, and it’s convenient to be able to get to a bank pretty much anywhere we go. But we were not bursting with pride when Time magazine reported on November 9, 2013, that the bank was to be fined $865,000,000 for mortgage fraud related to the Countrywide Financial scandal. At the same time, our bank is a Global Sponsor of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, Alvin Ailey Dancers, and the Metropolitan Opera HD Broadcasts in public schools. We thank them for all that.

Bank of America is also a “Season Sponsor” for Carnegie Hall, supporting the Hall’s mission “to present extraordinary music and musicians on the three stages of the legendary hall, to bring the transformative power of music to the widest possible audience, to provide visionary education programs, and to foster the future of music through the cultivation of new works, artists, and audiences,” as stated on Carnegie Hall’s website.

So the concert hall that was built on the backs of striking steel workers, whose schedule was recently interrupted by striking six-figure stagehands, is now supported largely by a bank guilty of major mortgage fraud. 

May the music keep playing. Sure hope it does. The stakes are high. 

The Kotzschmar Organ

At 2:23 a.m. on January 24, 1908, a fire started, ironically, in the wiring of a new-fangled fire alarm system that was housed in the office of the city electrician on the third floor of City Hall in Portland, Maine. Public alarm was quickly raised, but freezing temperatures hampered the operation of the primitive fire fighting equipment, and the building was completely destroyed.

City leaders lost no time recovering from the disaster. The New York architectural firm of Carrère & Hastings, newly famous for their design of the New York Public Library completed in 1908, was engaged to design the new building, which was built, decorated, and furnished in just a few years and was ready for dedication in the summer of 1912.

Less than four months after the City Hall fire, on April 15, 1908, Portland’s most highly revered musician, Hermann Kotzschmar, passed away. A German immigrant, he had been encouraged to move to Portland by Cyrus Curtis, an interior decorator, prominent citizen, and music lover, who had heard Kotzschmar perform in Boston. When Kotzschmar and his wife moved to Portland, they lived in the Curtis home until they were established and could find a home for themselves.

Hermann Kotzschmar became organist at First Parish Church in Portland, formed an orchestra and choral society, and was the beloved teacher of scores of young musicians. The friendship that developed between Curtis and Kotzschmar was so close that Cyrus Curtis named his son Cyrus Hermann Kotzschmar Curtis (1850–1933). Cyrus H. K. Curtis made quite a success of himself, founding the wildly popular The Saturday Evening Post and The Ladies’ Home Journal, and later acquiring The Philadelphia Inquirer, The Philadelphia Evening Post, and The New York Evening Post. He amassed a vast fortune and was a prolific philanthropist.

After learning of Hermann Kotzsch-mar’s death, Cyrus H. K. Curtis approached his lifelong friend, Adam Leighton, former mayor of Portland and chair of the City Hall building commission, offering to purchase a huge pipe organ to be installed in the auditorium of the new City Hall as a gift to the people of the city of Portland. He commissioned the Austin Organ Company of Hartford, Connecticut, to build the organ, and wrote to Mr. Leighton, 

I have given them carte blanche to build [the] organ, unhampered by any organist or music committee, and without any prejudice or pre-conceived notions of my own, knowing that they are better qualified to build the right kind of instruments than I could be or any committee whose member might differ in their views as to what was best.

He continued, 

As this organ is to be a memorial to Hermann Kotzschmar, I have asked [Austin] to provide some sort of place in the organ front for a bust of Mr. Kotzschmar and I am writing Mrs. Kotzschmar for photographs of her late husband with the idea of putting them into the hands of the best sculptor I know.

The cost of the organ was not to exceed $30,000, and Curtis’s gift made necessary alterations in the plans for the building, at a cost totaling $23,244.75, which was quickly authorized by the City Council.

On July 1, 1912, Mayor Oakley Curtis and the Portland City Council approved the formation of a music commission of three persons who would serve three-year terms. The commission would be responsible for the maintenance of the organ and the selection and hiring of the municipal organist. The virtuoso Will C. MacFarlane was appointed the city’s first organist; he was on the bench on Thursday, August 22, 1912, for the dedication of City Hall and the Kotzschmar Organ. The program opened with Léon Boëllmann’s Suite Gothique, followed by a prayer and Owen Brainard of Carrère & Hastings presenting the mayor with the keys to the building.

Chairman Leighton gave a report to the assembly that included the announcement that the cost of the building was $930,934.34. His report concluded, 

And now, Your Honor, Mayor Curtis, please accept from the fellow members of the building commission their hearty good-will, along with the formal relinquishment of stewardship of this beautiful structure, which is destined, we believe, to enhance Portland’s title to the compliment it so often receives of being the most beautiful city of the New World.

Cyrus H. K. Curtis then took the stage:

Mr. Mayor: 

I present to the City of Portland through you, this memorial to Hermann Kotzschmar, who for more than fifty years was pre-eminent in this city as organist, composer, and teacher, a man who was loved by all classes for his kindly spirit, his high ideals, and his devotion to music.  

He cared little or nothing for material things or for fame­—he never sought them, but here is his monument—a monument to one who did something to make us better men and women and appreciate that indefinable something that is an expression of the soul.

Cyrus H. K. Curtis purchased three different Aeolian organs for his home in Wyncote, Pennsylvania, and in 1926 he purchased the immense Austin organ (146 ranks!) for Irvine Auditorium in Philadelphia as a gift to the University of Pennsylvania. The depth of his devotion to the art of music is seen in the heritage left by his daughter, Marie Louise Curtis Bok, who worked at South Philadelphia’s Settlement Music School, teaching underprivileged children.¹ She realized the need for a high-quality school of music that would be available to anyone, and in 1924, founded the tuition-free Curtis Institute of Music in Philadelphia in honor of her father, so the influence of Hermann Kotzschmar is actively alive in Philadelphia as well as in Portland.

The Friends of the Kotzschmar Organ

The Kotzschmar organ had a wonderful career as a cultural icon in the center of the city’s artistic life. A succession of brilliant musicians served as municipal organist through the first half of the twentieth century. But by the 1970s, the organ had fallen onto hard times. The city’s budget was strained, and its leaders found it difficult to preserve the budget for the care and use of the organ ahead of essential services.

In 1980, Berj Zamkochian, organist of the Boston Symphony Orchestra, brought a group of friends to see the Kotzschmar Organ. Among them was Maurice Prendergast, late of Kennebunk, Maine, who was impressed by the organ but dismayed by its condition. A few days later, he visited the offices of the Portland Symphony Orchestra, and presented executive director Russ Burleigh with a check for $10,000 to be used for repairing the organ. As the organ was owned by the city, Burleigh felt that it would be inappropriate to accept the gift on behalf of the orchestra, and conferred with PSO president Peter Plumb. The idea of forming a non-profit group devoted to the care of the organ emerged, interested parties negotiated with the city to assume the responsibility for the care of the organ, and in 1981, the Friends of the Kotzschmar Organ (FOKO) was founded, with Peter Plumb as founding president.

A board of directors was established, fund raising began, and FOKO presided over critical repairs to get the organ back on its feet. Concert programming was renewed, and the organ regained its active presence. When the City Hall auditorium was renovated in the 1990s, the organ was removed from the hall for safe keeping, and the stage was significantly enlarged. Through heroic efforts by FOKO and the herculean devotion of organ curator David Wallace, in 1997 it made its triumphant return to the newly renamed Merrill Auditorium.

Transition and growth

Ray Cornils was appointed Portland’s tenth municipal organist in 1990.² Ray’s tenure of 27 years in that position is the longest in the history of the position. His consummate musicianship, his gracious and welcoming personality, his affinity for working with young people in FOKO’s vast educational efforts, and his skill at nurturing the complex relationships between FOKO and the City of Portland have been essential to the growth and success of FOKO. Ray was patient with the failing and recalcitrant organ, coaxing it through its dying breath on numerous occasions and helping scores of visiting organists navigate its treacheries. Ray’s ability to show the organ in its best light, no matter the circumstances, was central to its continued prominence.

Ray was equally essential to the lengthy task of the renovation of the organ, working with the organ committee through dozens of complex meetings, assisting in raising funds, and continuing as the ambassador for the Kotzschmar Organ. He helped play the organ out of the hall as the renovation began and played it back into Portland as a renewed instrument. In many ways, Ray Cornils has been “Mister Music” for the city of Portland and the state of Maine.

David Wallace first met the Kotzschmar Organ at the age of six, the beginning of his devotion to the instrument, and the formation of his career as an organbuilder. David’s zeal was essential to the organ’s survival through budget cuts, near abandonment, and the immense chore of bringing it back to life after the renovation of the hall. Although news reports heralded the return of the “restored” Kotzschmar Organ, David knew as well as anyone that its days were still numbered.

In 2007, the reality of the organ’s condition was made clear to the board of directors, and plans for a serious and comprehensive renovation of the organ were formed. You can read in depth of the history of that process, from startled realization, to the thrill of the organ’s second triumphant return to the hall in 2014 on FOKO’s website at www.foko.org/2012-renovation/.

During the 2016 annual meeting of FOKO’s board of directors, Ray Cornils announced his retirement, to be effective after the traditional holiday concerts, “Christmas with Cornils,” in December 2017. A search committee³ was formed in October 2016, whose work started with the realization that the newly renovated organ could serve as a vehicle for a new life for the organization. Purposefully intending to remain open to structuring a new position around the talents of the next municipal organist, the committee solicited applications, reviewed recorded submissions, and selected six finalists who would travel to Portland for live interviews and auditions in May and June of 2017. After the auditions, the committee quickly reached a unanimous decision.

The Eleventh Municipal Organist

On Monday, September 18, 2017, the board of directors of the Friends of the Kotzschmar Organ voted unanimously to accept the recommendation of the search committee to appoint James Kennerley as Portland’s eleventh municipal organist. That evening, at its regular bi-monthly meeting, the Portland City Council welcomed an ensemble named Burundi Drummers Batimbo United in a colorful thunderous performance in City Council chambers. They took special action to change residency requirements for Class C board members of the non-profit Portland Fish Exchange, made several special proclamations brought forward by Mayor Ethan Strimling, and acted on the order to appoint James Kennerley as municipal organist, effective January 1, 2018.

James Kennerley began his formal musical education as a chorister at Chelmsford Cathedral, where proximity to the organ inspired his interest in the instrument. He holds degrees from Cambridge University and The Juilliard School, and the prestigious diploma as a Fellow of the Royal College of Organists. After holding positions at St. Paul’s Cathedral in London, Christ Church, Greenwich, Connecticut, and St. Mary the Virgin (Times Square) in New York City, he presently serves as organist and choirmaster at the Church of St. Ignatius of Antioch in New York City, where he directs a professional choir of 18 voices.

James won first place in the 2008 Albert Schweitzer National Organ Playing Competition and was winner of the 2013 composition competition of the Association of Anglican Musicians. He is active in New York and abroad as an organist, harpsichordist, singer, and conductor.

Recently, James and I sat together in my apartment in New York City to chat about the start of his work in Portland. He spoke eloquently about the role of the performer, bringing thought-provoking expression, musical and artistic statements both old and new, and outright entertainment to sacred congregations and secular audiences alike. But while serving a church is to be organist to the people of the church, serving as a municipal organist is to be an ambassador, a host, and a musician all at once.  

He expressed his excitement about getting to know the people of Portland and to drawing audiences to the city from afar. James and his wife, Emily, had gotten to know Portland earlier through visits with friends who live there—friends who consider Portland to be a hip and up and coming place to live, “the Brooklyn of the East Coast!” It is a city of about 65,000 residents (the size of a usual neighborhood in New York City), in a metropolitan area of about 250,000, and is home to a fleet of flourishing arts organizations including the Portland Art Museum and the Portland Symphony Orchestra.

The recent renovation of the Kotzschmar Organ is testament to the population’s commitment to the arts. It’s hard to believe that $2,400,000 could be raised for such a purpose in a city that size. By contrast, with all its cultural wealth, there is no public secular pipe organ in New York City.

James spoke of the newly renovated organ in the beautiful auditorium as a fresh canvas on which to paint a new musical picture. His vision as host is to welcome the city’s residents and visitors into City Hall, into a world of the arts including offerings from all disciplines.

By comparison, he spoke of the chef and owner of a fine restaurant, welcoming patrons into comfortable surroundings where an exciting world of things both familiar and unexpected is waiting.  Perhaps one weekend, we’ll depart from the usual menu and venture into an interesting world of exotic cuisine. Perhaps one week, we’ll invite a guest chef to approach the home stove and present something new to the neighborhood.

And as we talked, he took the restaurant metaphor further. He and Emily had just returned from a vacation in Europe, where they traveled off the beaten touristy path to remote villages in Spain where no one spoke English and where restaurants didn’t offer English menus. With little or no command of Spanish, and by cobbling together some understanding of Latin, and wisps of other languages, they ordered meals and were sometimes surprised by what turned up.

James compared that experience to the average citizen who shows up for a concert, is handed a menu in a foreign language, and takes his chances from limited knowledge as to what’s coming. The maître d’hôtel escorts the diner to his seat, unfolds the napkin, offers a glass of water, and explains the intricacies, the ingredients, and philosophies of each dish. The performer as host, as maître d’hôtel, can introduce a composer, place the music in the appropriate geographic and political context, and draw the average listener into an enlightened experience that is otherwise unattainable. The more you know about something, the easier it is to order and enjoy something unfamiliar.

The hot seat

The search committee established a tough audition process. Merrill Auditorium is a very busy place where time is at a premium, and the committee balanced the desire to hear the largest possible number of live auditions with the need to provide candidates with time to prepare at the organ. Candidates were given two hours of practice time to prepare one hour of audition performance. Just look at all those knobs. It was a daunting task.

James Kennerley had never played the Kotzschmar Organ before his audition, and in those two precious hours, he mined the tonal ore of the instrument to the deepest depths, and produced a program that included sophisticated serious music, glimpses into whimsy and fantasy, and a virtuosic romp of his own creation on the Brazilian smash hit, Tico-Tico no Fubá.  

Portland audiences, you have no idea how much you’re going to love welcoming James Kennerley as your eleventh municipal organist. Come early, come often. Bring your friends, lots of friends. We’ll be happy to recommend restaurants. It’s a big hall. There are plenty of seats. It’s going to be a blast.

Notes

1. Marie Louise Curtis’s first husband was Edward Bok, editor of her father’s magazine, The Ladies’ Home Journal. Their son, Curtis Bok, was Justice of the Pennsylvania Supreme Court. Their grandson, Derek Bok, was president of Harvard University. Marie Louise Curtis’s second husband was the violinist Effrem Zimbalist, director of the Curtis School of Music. His son, Efrem Zimbalist, Jr., was an actor, renowned for his starring roles in 77 Sunset Strip, and The F.B.I. Efrem Zimbalist, Jr’s., daughter, Stephanie, played Laura Holt in the NBC detective series, Remington Steele.

2. Will C. MacFarlane served two tenures, from 1912–1918, and 1932–1934.

3. Members of the search committee included John Bishop, Tom Cattell (president of the FOKO board of directors), Andy Downs (director of public facilities for the city), Elsa Geskus, Tracy Hawkins, Brooke Hubner (executive director of FOKO), Peter Plumb, Larry Rubinstein (chair), Harold Stover, and Mark Terison.

The 101-rank Kotzschmar Organ in Portland, Maine, is 100 years old, is about to undergo renovation--and Portland, Maine has ponied up $1,250,000 to care for its treasure

It was a dark and stormy night . . .¹

In the early hours of January 24, 1908, a cold westerly wind gusting to thirty miles an hour buffeted Portland, Maine. With the temperature hovering in the mid-teens, the wind chill factor was between forty-five and fifty degrees below zero. Around 2 am, two men walking up Exchange Street toward Congress Street smelled burning rubber, noticed a red glow in City Hall, and ran to the Central Fire Station.²

Ironically, the fire was caused by a short circuit in Portland’s Gamewell Fire Alarm, which was housed in the city electrician’s office in City Hall. The fire, fanned by the strong winds, spread rapidly through the building. Firefighters responded from neighboring towns, but their primitive equipment was not equal to the emergency, and by morning the grand building was a smoldering wreck encased in ice. Government records were lost and the city’s fire chief was seriously injured, but there were no fatalities and the fire was confined to the single building.³

City leaders were quick to respond. Less than six months later, Mayor Adam Leighton announced the appointment of the famed architectural firm Carrère & Hastings (designers of the New York Public Library) to design the new City Hall, which would include a large auditorium. An Australian pianist visiting Portland pointed out that many British and Australian city hall auditoriums included large pipe organs, and Mayor Leighton called on his friend, the publishing magnate Cyrus H. K. Curtis, who responded with a gift to the City of Portland for a large concert pipe organ to be installed in the new auditorium. The organ would be named for Cyrus Curtis’s namesake. Mr. Curtis set two ground rules: the organ would be built by the Austin Organ Company without any direction or interference, and the cost should not exceed $30,000.⁴

The life of  the 

Kotzschmar

The 101-rank Kotzschmar Organ is 100 years old as I write today. As the City of Portland was forced to stop funding for the organ and its programming in the late 1970s, a not-for-profit organization called Friends of the Kotzschmar Organ (FOKO) was formed in 1981. You can read about the history of the organ and of FOKO at the website www.foko.org, and you can see the organ’s stoplist at www.foko.org/stop_list.htm.  

The organ was expanded by Austin in the 1920s and physically moved across the stage by a house-moving company in the 1960s. Merrill Auditorium was reconstructed in the 1990s and the organ was removed from the hall, to be returned when the hall was ready—on a shoestring budget, through the Herculean efforts of the organ’s curator and the FOKO Board of Directors. After a century of ups and downs, it’s great to report that programming has expanded to include significant educational outreach, bringing the pipe organ to public schools in the Portland area. FOKO has even had a portable three-rank pipe organ built that travels to schools to enhance these efforts. Hundreds of great organists have played recitals on the organ, and it remains a beloved icon in the center of Maine’s largest city. If you live in one of America’s more populous states, you may imagine Portland to be larger than it is. With an art museum, symphony orchestra, municipal organ, and opera company, the city boasts an unusually rich cultural life for its population of just over 66,000 people!

Over the past five or six years, the people of FOKO have come to grips with the fact that the Kotzschmar Organ is in failing condition. It sounds great, and has been played energetically and regularly all along. But to reuse a well-worn phrase, it’s time to pay the pipers, all 6,760 of them! To shorten the long story of a complicated path, FOKO, the City of Portland, and the people who love the Kotzschmar Organ have come up with the perfect gift for the organ that has everything in celebration of its hundredth birthday—the millions of dollars necessary for a full-blown, soup-to-nuts renovation, which will take place in the workshop of Foley-Baker, Inc. of Tolland, Connecticut. The City of Portland has set a bold example for government support of artistic and cultural activities by providing a matching grant of $1.25 million toward the renovation of the organ, an amount readily matched by private gifts. 

Centennial celebrations

The new City Hall and the Kotzschmar Organ were dedicated at two o’clock on the afternoon of August 22, 1912. At two o’clock on August 22, 2012, a large gathering of pipe organ professionals and enthusiasts were gathered in a meeting room at the Holiday Inn by the Sea in Portland in a plenary session concluding a week-long Centennial Festival celebrating the Kotzschmar Organ and its role in the life of the city. Michael Barone, host of Minnesota Public Radio’s Pipedreams, was moderator. The panel included the panoply of performers assembled for the festival: Scott Foppiano, Walt Strony, Peter Richard Conte, Fred Hohman, Fred Swann, John Weaver, and Municipal Organist Ray Cornils. (Felix Hell and Tom Trenney had left the festival early because of other concert engagements.)

A couple of hours later, the Friends of the Kotzschmar Organ hosted a Gala Centennial Banquet attended by about two hundred people. And on Wednesday evening, we enjoyed the Centennial Concert played by Ray Cornils, Peter Richard Conte, and the Kotzschmar Festival Brass. You can see the festival schedule, the specifications of the organ, and learn the history of the organ and of the Friends of the Kotzschmar Organ at the website, www.foko.org.

I serve on the board of directors of the Friends of the Kotzschmar Organ, where I am chairman of the organ committee. Seems natural enough, doesn’t it, that someone serving as a volunteer on the board of a not-for-profit organization would take a role from his professional life? But there’s something very funny about it. Throughout more than 35 years working as an organbuilder, I’ve been involved in hundreds of conversations with organ committees from all sorts of institutions, but always as an organbuilder, as a contractor, never as the “customer.” Since the conversation about renovating the Kotzschmar Organ started early in 2007, I’ve been on the other side of the table. The organ committee and I prepared requests for proposals and sent them to a list of organbuilding firms, we reviewed and compared the various proposals we received, chose the contractor, and spent many hours in conference with the staff of Foley-Baker planning the project. It was an extraordinary learning experience, rounding out my understanding of the process of conception and planning of a major organ project, and I am grateful to Foley-Baker, the organ committee, and all my colleagues on the FOKO board for this very rich experience.

Wait, wait, when can we work? 

Planning the schedule of this project has been unusually delicate. Merrill Auditorium is a grand home not only for this wonderful organ, but for many other activities as well. It is home to the Portland Symphony Orchestra, the Choral Arts Society, the Portland Opera, and the Portland Ballet. (How many cities of 66,000 people can boast such a lineup?)  Each year, many high schools, colleges, and universities hold their graduation exercises there, most of them accompanied by the organ. The City of Portland uses the auditorium for meetings and conferences, and very importantly, the hall is the premier venue in the State of Maine for all sorts of cultural activities, from rock concerts to comedians, from classical musicians to this summer’s live sell-out production of National Public Radio’s ubiquitous favorite show, Wait, Wait, Don’t Tell Me! That means two things—thousands of people throng from all over the state to hear this wide variety of events, and the rental of the hall for high-profile programs is of primary importance to the operating budget of the auditorium.

The second major factor defining the delicacy of the schedule is the fact that it’s difficult to maintain an audience in a dark hall. The Friends of the Kotzschmar Organ have cultivated an enthusiastic audience for the organ, comprising many local enthusiasts and countless tourists who plan their visits to Portland to coincide with concerts at Merrill Auditorium. How to maintain the presence of the organ and nourish the audience during its approximately twenty months of absence is the question that FOKO has been grappling with since the beginning of the conversation.

The five-week period necessary for the removal of the organ must have been the largest single block of time reserved since the hall was reopened after its renovation in 1997, for which the organ had been removed from the building.

A few paragraphs ago, I mentioned that the conversation about the renovation of the organ started in 2007, just ten years after the Kotzschmar Organ was installed in Merrill Auditorium for the second time. As the auditorium had received a thorough facelift that included new theater seats, a renewed acoustical environment, and a new and larger stage equipped with all the machinery and gear necessary to support complicated theatrical productions, you can imagine that there was much fanfare about the organ’s return to the hall having been cleaned, repaired, and modified to fit the new environment. In fact, the word “restoration” had been used.  

When early in 2007, FOKO’s organ committee reported to the full board that the organ’s condition merited a thorough and very expensive overhaul, there was an eerie silence in the room. The next sound came from a board member who correctly commented, “I thought we restored the organ when the hall was rebuilt.”

In August 2007, FOKO hosted a symposium, inviting seven acknowledged pipe organ experts to visit and inspect the organ and participate in several days of both private and public conversation. Theatre organist Walt Strony, Thomas Murray, Joseph Dzeda, and Nicholas Thompson-Allen of Yale University, Peter Richard Conte and Curt Mangel of the Wanamaker Organ, and organ consultant and historian Jonathan Ambrosino were the invited guests. Craig Whitney of the New York Times, and author of All the Stops (PublicAffairs, 2003), served as scribe for the public round-table discussion. The result of the symposium was a unanimous recommendation by the participants that FOKO commission a professional survey of the organ’s condition, which would serve as the basis for a request for proposals for the renovation of the organ. Five years later, as I write today, the organ is being dismantled for its multi-million-dollar renovation.

The tricky “R’s” . . . 

From the very beginning of five years of conversations, FOKO board members have referred to this project as a renovation. In the world of the preservation of antiquities, the word restoration should be used very carefully. The word implies returning an artifact to its condition when brand new. If the Kotzschmar Organ were being restored, the five-manual console built in 2000 would be removed and the original either repurchased and restored (with its mechanical “ka-chunk” one-level combination action) or faithfully reconstructed, and the significant voices added by Austin in the 1920s (and paid for by Cyrus Curtis) would be removed. While the original organ was a glorious instrument, the various additions and modifications have improved the instrument for modern use by myriad artists.

The current project includes a faithful reproduction of the original Austin Universal Air Chest, which was significantly modified during the 1995–97 project, replacement of pipe valves and pneumatic note-motors with authentic parts supplied by the Austin Organ Company, and the addition of two new 32-foot voices. It would be inaccurate to refer to this project as a restoration. We believe that the effect, aura, and ethic of the original Austin organ will be retained and the essential character of the organ will not be changed. 

The centennial star parade

The Kotzschmar Centennial Festival was a brilliant convocation. The array of visiting artists was inspirational. It was both fun and rewarding to meet with the visiting faithful, many of whom were not professionals, but people so dedicated to the thrill of the pipe organ that traveling hundreds of miles to spend a summer week sitting in churches, conference rooms, and a concert hall is a joy. It was both thrilling and moving to see how the people of Portland came out to celebrate and support their most visible cultural icon. And in the light of all that, enriching for me to have such a broad opportunity to visit with my colleagues who have so much to offer on stage and at table.  

Felix Hell gave us a brilliant performance of Liszt’s Fantasy and Fugue on Ad nos ad salutarem undam. After the concert I caught a glimpse of John Weaver and Felix Hell embracing, the epitome of the deep experience between mentor and student. I’ve had many conversations with great teachers about the joy of working with gifted students, and that which I had with John Weaver at breakfast a couple days later was a classic about how a great performer takes what he learned from his teachers and builds on it as he matures as a performer and develops his vision of a given piece.

Thomas Heywood (www.concert
organ.com) travels the world with his wife Simone, who assists him at the console for his performances, and manages his career. Thomas has the hands and feet of a conjurer, allowing him to play fiendish passages, especially those in his own transcriptions, with abandon and most notably, joy. He bounds onto the stage as if he were winning an Oscar, then jumps on the bench and dazzles. He tested the repetition rate of the organ’s aging action with his reading of the Overture to William Tell.

Fred Swann and John Weaver shared a recital on Tuesday night, August 21. While we celebrate the brilliant young players who are bringing new life to the pipe organ, the opportunity to hear two such masters play on the same evening is to recall the majesty, dignity, and depth of musical interpretation that can only be achieved through a lifetime of practice, study, and thousands of performances. I doubt that anyone in the hall failed to recognize the significance of that collaboration.

Tom Trenney, Scott Foppiano, and Walt Strony helped us appreciate the versatility of the Kotzschmar Organ, which presents itself architecturally as a formal concert organ, but with its array of percussions like Harp, Marimba, Glockenspiel, drums, and Turkish Cymbal, can easily jump the line between the classical and the popular. Tom accompanied the silent film, Speedy, and Scott and Walt gave varied and colorful performances that showcased the widest ranges of the organ’s resources, and their creative and colorful personalities.

Fred Hohman honored the memory of one of Portland’s early municipal organists by playing transcriptions and original compositions by Edwin Lemare, whose virtuosity impressed early twentieth-century audiences, and whose creativity in understanding the capabilities of the organ console is still educating concert organists.

I’ve written before in the pages of this journal that I suspect Peter Richard Conte to be armed with universal joints in his fingers rather than the more usual “up-and-down” knuckles that hamper the rest of us. As an audience member sitting 100 feet from the console in the Grand Tier of the auditorium, I heard sweeping performances of familiar orchestral scores. As a friend who has often stood next to Peter as he plays, I know he’s capable of playing on four keyboards simultaneously while playing two independent parts on the pedalboard. You think it’s super-human and impossible until you see it up close.

Ray Cornils has served Portland as municipal organist since 1990. He, like Hermann Kotzschmar, must be the premier musician of the City of Portland and the State of Maine. His rapport with city officials, board members, and with the audience is a joy to witness, and his approach to his role, complete with sparkling costumes and a smooth croon of a voice as he addresses the audience at Merrill Auditorium, speaks of his understanding and appreciation of the role of leader of the city’s music.

Say good night, Gracie.  

During the last piece of the centennial concert, attentive audience members noticed a light turning on inside the organ, and several people sneaking across the organ behind the façade pipes. As the audience stood in ovation, Ray and Peter slid back onto the bench and launched into a fresh four-hands arrangement of Auld Lang Syne. The entire staff of Foley-Baker, Inc., some twenty strong in suits and hard hats, walked onto the stage with a huge stepladder, and started removing façade pipes as the audience sang and wept.

All this about a pipe organ? The pipe organ is the most complex of musical instruments, the most expensive, and the most difficult to care for. Organs are subject to the whims of weather, politics, and the global economy (try to solicit a leading gift from a donor whose portfolio has just crashed). For many, they are the symbol of lost ages, the ultimate icon of the dead white man. They are the timeless symbol of the church, which compels an ever-decreasing percentage of our population.

Portland, Maine has ponied up $1,250,000 to care for its treasure. Can your town, county, state, or nation be persuaded to do the same? Never, never take pipe organs for granted.

Notes

1. Edward Bulwer-Litton, Paul Clifford (opening line), published by Henry Colburn and Richard Bentley, London, 1830. It is widely quoted as an example of “Purple Prose” celebrating the worst extremes in writing:

“It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents—except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies), rattling along the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness.”

2. Behind the Pipes: The Story of the Kotzschmar Organ, Janice Parkinson-Tucker, Casco House, 2005, pp. 2–3.

3. Lima Daily News, Lima, Ohio, January 24, 1908 (http://www.gendisasters.com/data1/me/fires/portland-cityhall1908.htm)

4. Behind the Pipes, p. 14.

Organs for the people

The early twentieth century was the golden age of the municipal organist. Dozens of cities across the United States installed monumental organs in public auditoriums, and brilliant organists were hired to play them, paid with public funds. Those were days when the economics of symphony orchestras limited attendance to the top-hat and sable-stole crowd, so in the days before radio, the general public might not ever have a chance to hear a Beethoven symphony or Rossini overture.

That was also the age of rapid development of electric organ actions and a dizzying display of registration aids. Just as Aristide Cavaillé-Coll’s organs changed the work and scope of musicians and composers 60 years earlier, Ernest Skinner and others were baring their engineering teeth and festooning their consoles with swell shade selectors, programmable crescendos, and settable combination actions with general pistons. Great ideas for new console controls came along, such as super couplers that didn’t affect high-pitch stops and cutouts that would shut off all mutations.

In the 1920s, the populace of Chattanooga, Tennessee, or Topeka, Kansas, would gather loyally each week at their big municipal auditorium to be treated to a varied performance by a great organist. The immense popularity of such concerts was described by Cleveland city architect Harold MacDowell, who wrote after the dedication concert of the 149-rank Skinner organ in that city’s 13,000-seat Public Auditorium in 1922:

Despite the oppressive heat, the crowd which had been collecting since noon soon exceeded the capacity of the mammoth hall and long before the time set for the inaugural recital all seats were filled and more than 5000 men, women, and children were crowding the corridors of the colossal structure. The police which were out in large numbers were at first able to hold the crowd into a semblance of order, but soon gave up in despair as the eager mob swept all before it.

It’s been a long time since we’ve had a riot before an organ recital.

City Hall in Portland, Maine, was destroyed by a calamitous fire in January 1908 that started, ironically, in the new-fangled electric fire alarm system in the office of the city electrician. The city fathers (there were no women in government then) wasted no time, hiring Carèrre & Hastings, who had famously designed the New York Public Library on Fifth Avenue, and the new City Hall was ready for dedication in August 1912.

Concurrently, the publishing magnate, Portland native Cyrus H. K. Curtis, made a gift of a hundred-stop Austin organ for the auditorium of the city hall. Curtis’s father had invited Hermann Kotzschmar to move to Portland where he established himself as the most prominent musician, influencing generations of Portlandians through his tireless work and brilliant performances. The friendship between Curtis’s father and Kotzschmar was so strong that he named his son Cyrus Hermann Kotzschmar Curtis, and Cyrus H. K. Curtis in turn dedicated the organ to Kotzschmar. During the dedication ceremony of city hall and the organ on August 22, 1912, Curtis addressed the assembled crowd:

Mr. Mayor,

I present to the City of Portland through you, this memorial to Hermann Kotzschmar, who for more than fifty years was pre-eminent in this city as organist, composer, and teacher, a man who was loved by all classes for his kindly spirit, his high ideals, and his devotion to music.

He cared little or nothing for material things or fame—he never sought them, but here is his monument­—a monument to one who did something to make us better men and women and to appreciate that indefinable something that is an expression of the soul.

The great William C. Macfarlane was engaged as Portland’s first municipal organist, and a city music commission was formed. Macfarlane served from 1912 until 1918 and returned for a second stint between 1932 and 1934. Edwin H. Lemare, another musical luminary, served from 1921 to 1923.

In the 1970s, municipal funds were dwindling, and the maintenance of the organ suffered until 1980 when the city council voted to stop funding the organ. A group of interested citizens came forth in 1981, founding the Friends of the Kotzschmar Organ (FOKO), which would develop a board of directors and assume responsibility for the care and presentation of the organ. The organ would remain the property of the city, and a carefully crafted relationship was formed and nurtured that has endured to this day.

In the 1990s, the auditorium was to be renovated and modernized, and the Kotzschmar Organ was removed to storage. This was a critical moment in the life of the organ, as once it was in storage, there were voices in town that would have been pleased if the organ had not been returned to the new hall. Through FOKO’s tireless devotion, funds were raised to install the organ in a specially built space above the stage in the newly renamed Merrill Auditorium.

Most importantly, it was the effort of David Wallace, the organ’s curator, who was dedicated to seeing the organ brought back to life, even though proper funding was not available. It was that effort that made possible FOKO’s crowning achievement, the Centennial Renovation. After 30 years of tireless maintenance of the reinstalled organ, an ambitious fundraising project was undertaken, and on August 22, 2012, the one-hundredth anniversary of the dedication of the organ and the hall, the Kotzschmar Organ was removed for a second time, this time for transportation to the workshop of Foley-Baker, Inc., in Tolland, Connecticut, for a thorough, professional renovation. A few new voices were added, the Austin Universal Air Chest was replaced with a new one of authentic design, returning the instrument to its original dimensions. The electrical system was replaced, damaged pipes were repaired, and the organ now speaks with clarity and brilliance as if it were brand new.

A twenty-first century municipal
organist

Ray Cornils was educated at the Oberlin Conservatory of Music and the New England Conservatory of Music and held positions as organist at various churches in the Boston area until he and his partner, now husband, David Bellville, felt an urge to move to Maine. Ray secured the position of director of music at First Parish in Brunswick, Maine, in 1987, and in 1990 was appointed the eleventh municipal organist of Portland.

Following the final concert of 2017, Cornils retired from the position in Portland. He had retired from First Parish in June, and with all those responsibilities behind him, he and David retreated to their home on the beach in Salinas, Ecuador. Salinas is at the tip of a peninsula that juts into the Pacific Ocean from the west coast of Ecuador, right near the equator. Ray and David also have a home in Quichinche, high in the Andes, an hour or so north of the capitol city, Quito (altitude 9,500 feet), ten hours from Salinas, and they have retained their home in Maine. I caught up with Cornils by Skype the other day and spent a pleasant hour and more chatting about FOKO. He described his current state as “taking a deep breath” and learning to live without the relentless responsibilities of those two demanding positions.

When Cornils was appointed municipal organist, FOKO was nearly ten years old and growing steadily in organization and effectiveness. The annual budget was around $20,000, and the condition of the Kotzschmar Organ was in steady decline. Ray acknowledged the organ’s terrible condition as “. . . a given. You registered music with handfuls of stops because there were so many dead notes.” Some stops worked sporadically because of worn and unreliable contacts. The roar of the basement blower joined the chorus of thousands of wind leaks in the organ on the stage to create a high level of ambient noise, so that when the organ was used with the Portland Symphony Orchestra, it was turned off during rests because the musicians of the orchestra objected to the extraneous noise.

On several occasions, the organ failed completely. When Pierre Pincemaille was preparing for a recital, the huge organ blower “threw its fans.” After years of torque from starting the heavy machine, the rivets were worn, and when they failed, torn sheet metal blew through the windlines into the big windchest. It must have made quite a noise. And there was David Wallace to dismantle the blower and take the fans to a local sheet metal company that fabricated new vanes overnight, and though Pincemaille only had a few hours to prepare, the concert went on as scheduled.¹

Ray spoke of the challenges of communicating with an organ that was operating at such a low level. FOKO was working diligently to keep the organ going, but the instrument was unraveling. After the organ was reinstalled following the renovation of the auditorium, the press heralded the triumphant return of the “restored” Kotzschmar Organ. While the organ had not, in fact, been restored, its condition was substantially improved, allowing a fresh start for programming. Cornils resumed the work of inviting prominent organists to present recitals, serving as the tireless and gracious host as he introduced them to the organ.

When I asked Ray what impact the position had on him over the years, he answered, “the ability to listen.” To listen to reactions of the audience to the artists and music being presented. To listen to the input of lay people serving on the FOKO board as they commented on what sells and what doesn’t. To listen to himself as he spoke at meetings, as he conducted the relationship with the city, and as he addressed audiences about the music he was playing. To listen to his playing, trying always to be a growing musician and effective communicator. To listen to the organ, responding to what it seemed to be able to do best. And to listen to the guest artists, noticing what they were able to get out of the organ and how they did it.

It is unusual for an organist to get to hear their home organ played regularly by different people. It is more usual that the “home” organist of a church never hears anyone else playing the organ, which is often not to the advantage of the listener. Ray spoke at length about the value of that part of his work. It’s a challenge for any organist to arrive in town with a few days to prepare a concert on a strange organ, especially one that’s not in terrific condition.

Professionals in the pipe organ community are a tiny subset of society, and Cornils worked to find ways to connect the organ world with the real world. He encouraged guest artists to address their audiences, and instituted preconcert conversations in which he would interview a musician, allowing for more personal contact between artists and audiences. Late in his tenure, FOKO began publishing brief videos on social media featuring guest artists playing selections from their program and speaking about what excited them about the music and the experience of playing in Merrill Auditorium.

Cornils was always mindful of the heritage of the Kotzschmar Organ. The instrument was presented to the city by a music lover who had been moved by the work of a prominent local musician, a moving response to an artist’s life work. Ray understood the responsibility of honoring and nurturing that heritage by keeping the Kotzschmar Organ in front of the public and always showing its best side, no matter what particular foibles it presented on a given day.

During his tenure, Cornils was active in and devoted to FOKO’s educational outreach. He spoke of the rich rewards of working with children in public schools and working with the teachers to plan curriculums that melded into the other topics discussed in the classroom. He made an effort to pick up on the sorts of vocabulary the class was used to and to tie the marvels of the organ into scientific, historical, and artistic conversations. He recognized that many people experience the sound of the organ as scary because of its use in popular horror films and other media. Ray enjoyed sharing the organ’s joyful, triumphant, meditative, and tuneful sides with the students, and some of his highest moments were when parents greeted him after concerts saying that their kids had experienced FOKO in their classrooms and encouraged the family to come to Merrill Auditorium to hear the organ in person.

§

The Centennial Renovation was a crowning achievement of the Friends of the Kotzschmar Organ, and Cornils’s well-known humility would never allow him to claim credit for it. It was a magnificent effort put forth by an active group of volunteers serving on the board, supported by the generous donations from the public. But Ray’s decades of service, his unflappability, his gracious and thoughtful presence as FOKO negotiated the relationship with the city, and his continuous presence on stage and in public as the voice of FOKO, the ambassador for the organ, and an artistic leader in the city were central to the success of the project. His voice and artistry helped make the Kotzschmar Organ a worthy recipient of the hundreds of private donations involved in funding that ambitious project.

It was fitting that Cornils’s tenure extended after the completion of the renovation. After the thrilling festival of rededication, Ray was on the bench of the Kotzschmar Organ for three years until his retirement. Now, guest artists gush their enthusiasm about the organ’s transformation, especially those who had played it before the renovation. And Ray had time to learn the organ’s new strengths and to experience afresh those voices that had been unusable. The original personality of the organ reemerged under Ray’s fingers, and the public was delighted.

On December 22, 2017, Ray made his last appearance in Merrill Auditorium as municipal organist in the city of Portland. Over the years, “Christmas with Cornils” programs had developed into a seasonal highpoint for the community, and predictably, the 1,600-seat hall was filled. Ray was joined by an 11-piece brass choir, percussion, chorus, and handbells for a rollicking romp through beloved holiday repertory. At intermission, Ethan Strimling, mayor of Portland, presented Ray with a key to the city. Ray responded to the audience’s ovation by saying, “This is not goodbye, it’s thank you.”

During the concert, Cornils was aware that his successor, James Kennerley, was present in the hall. At the end of the evening, without prompt and without plan, Ray invited James to join him on stage, signaling to the audience his support of the future, and generously giving James and the audience a chance to see each other. No one who has worked with Ray as student, colleague, peer, or collaborator would be surprised to learn that Ray’s last public gesture as municipal organist of the city of Portland would be one of humility and generosity.

Some people might assume that the role of the municipal organist would be to present a haughty, theatrical demeanor. That was not Ray’s way, and the city of Portland is a better because of his 27 years on that bench.

Notes

1. Ray’s telling of that story was especially poignant as Pierre Pincemaille had passed away on January 12, the day before my converastion with Ray Cornils.

Art by committee

I have recently joined the board of a non-profit
organization that supports the work of a professional string quartet in our
town in Maine. Last week, with the help of a facilitator, the board met for a
daylong retreat to discuss long-term plans and goals. At the beginning of the
day, the facilitator asked us to create a short list of ground rules for the
meeting to enhance a constructive atmosphere. These rules simply stated the
obvious: no side conversations and no interrupting, to name a couple. But one
sparked my interest: no member of the group should speak for another. I
recalled occasions in other forums where a clever committee member was able to
push a conversation one way or another by recalling things that others in the
group had said previously. Repeating comments out of context that were made at
last month’s meeting can have strong and sometimes diabolical effect.

But I know that I’m safe when I say I speak for many
if not all of my colleagues in stating that the life of the modern organbuilder
is governed by the pace of committee work. Doing simple business with a church
or educational institution can progress at glacial speed. You submit an invoice
and find that it must be approved by a committee that met yesterday and will not
meet again for six weeks. You wait the six weeks and hear that three of the
members were traveling so the committee could not do any official business.
They promise to get the committee’s approval by phone then call back
saying that the treasurer is out of the country. He’ll cut a check when
he gets back in three weeks. 

Doing business by committee is one thing, but creating art
by committee is another. Remember the adage a camel is a horse that was
designed by a committee. There are countless examples of successful
collaborations--there would hardly be any operettas or musicals if there
were no hyphens--but what about a larger group? The fact is many wonderful
pipe organs are the products of collaborations between many different forces.

Can we describe an artwork as the expression of the
artist’s vision or ideas? We have fascinating records of the creative
process--an exhibition of sketches by Rubens or Rembrandt gives us a
chance to see that process in action. The artist tries several versions of
facial expressions or the position of a hand, and it’s fascinating to
compare the sketches to the final work. 

I remember a funny episode involving sketches and design.
Nearly thirty years ago (I was still a teenager) the organbuilder I was working
for was finishing an instrument that had a white painted case in the Colonial
style. A late decision had been made to add pipe shades to the case, and during
an installation trip he bought a stack of white poster board, sketched and cut
out a number of prototypes for pipe shade design, and we hung them on the case
one after another. All the versions made it back to the workshop, and as a joke
I hung the worst of them in the doorway to the voicing room encouraged by many
jocular comments. 

One of my professors in college led the class through the
manuscript of a Beethoven symphony, playing various passages on the piano,
comparing the early versions with the final work that Beethoven chose to let us
hear. A study of Beethoven’s sketchbooks shows a great artist arguing,
even battling with himself as he walked in the woods. Imagine the unkempt,
nearly deaf genius walking alone, shouting at trees, waving his fists, singing
or whistling passages, unaware of those around him. I saw exactly this scene in
Central Park last week--I wonder if we’re about to be treated to a
new symphony!

We understand that Mozart worked differently. Apparently he
was able to work out entire compositions in his head, and write them down in
finished, polished form. Was he conducting the whole process of revision,
editing, and experimentation in his head, or did it come to him as finished
music? Was Beethoven consciously breaking down barriers, understanding the
risks of rejection, and working hard to be sure he was convinced by what he was
putting before the public? Was Mozart simply confident that what flowed from
his mind would please others? I imagine that this debate would make a great
topic for the thesis of a student of psychology.

Pope Urban VIII commissioned Gian Lorenzo Bernini (1598-1680)
to build the bronze, marble, and gilt baldacchino over the high altar at St. Peter’s Cathedral in Rome. Sketches
of several different designs have been preserved. Were these the products of
Bernini’s personal process, or did Urban VIII reject the first few,
sending the artist “back to the drawing board?”

In 1509 Pope Julius II commissioned Michelangelo
(1475-1564) to paint the ceiling of the Vatican’s Sistine Chapel.
This is surely one of the most important commissions in the history of art but
it was part of a long, complicated, often difficult relationship between the
patron and artist. One twist to the story is the legend that the Pope gave the
commission to Michelangelo (who considered himself a master sculptor and a
lesser painter) in order to embarrass him in the eyes of his rival Raphael
(1483-1520). Can we imagine Michelangelo submitting drawings to the Pope
only to hear, “He should be pointing two fingers, not just one.” It
may well have happened--there is a long history of disagreements between
those two figures. By the way, Pope Julius II was known as “The Warrior
Pope.” Though the Pope was the absolute monarch of the Papal States,
Perugia and Bologna declared their independence and refused to pay taxes. The
cash crisis that resulted from that tax revolt was the reason that the Pope
cancelled the lavish commission he had given Michelangelo for his own tomb. The
Pope responded by forming the now famous Swiss Guards and crushing the
rebellion.1

How do we compare the design process of a painting with that
of a pipe organ? Is it safe to say that most paintings are the work of an
individual, not subject to external control of the design or layout? If so,
then it is the prerogative of the viewer to interpret, judge, accept or reject
it.

A pipe organ certainly can be the result of the vision and
expression of an individual, though it typically takes a group to actually
construct it. (Michelangelo engaged six painters to help him with the Sistine
ceiling frescos, but was so disappointed with their work that he destroyed it
all and locked them out of the chapel, finishing the work himself.) But a pipe
organ as a work of art is very different from a painting or sculpture. It not
only needs to be seen and judged by others, but also used by others for specific
purposes. The organbuilder can and should provide a vehicle allowing new forms
of expression for the buyer, and it is his prerogative to refuse a contract if
he disagrees with the input of the client. But it is also reasonable and often
productive for the people who will be using an organ to participate in its
planning. It is very important to add that while an incumbent organist should
contribute to the planning of an instrument, it is the responsibility of all
involved to ensure that the instrument not be tailored to peculiar individual
tastes so as to prevent future organists from understanding or appreciating its
qualities. It is almost always the case that the organ to be built will outlast
the incumbent musician.

I recently spent a weekend with the people of a church
planning to purchase an organ through the Organ Clearing House. We had
discussed in detail the characteristics of the instrument they chose, and were
working to find the best way to make it fit in their building. Of course there
was much talk about logistics, contractual relationships, and schedule. But
more than half the weekend was spent with the organist of the church alone,
discussing the use of the instrument, the particular needs of the parish, and
his philosophies as they compare to mine. We referred to specific pieces of
music to substantiate various points and we found new ways that the instrument
might be used in their sophisticated and complicated liturgy. We disagreed
several times, but the result of the conversation was the concept of an
instrument that neither of us could have produced alone. In my opinion, our art
is advanced by the active, functional, informed exchange between the organist
and the organbuilder. I know that I have learned as much in conversations with
the organists of churches where I have placed organs as I have anywhere else.

The questions surrounding the design of an organ are
expanded by those surrounding the possible alteration of an existing
instrument. When should the original design of an instrument be preserved? This
question comes up often in differing circumstances. I alluded to one
earlier--imagine the new organist arriving on the scene ten years after a
new organ is completed? Those who served on the organ committee are still
around (some of them might have been on the committee that chose the new
organist!), as are those who contributed toward the cost of the organ. It may
be one thing for the new organist to suggest adding a stop or two, but consider
the story (let’s call it hypothetical) of the parish that sold a
twenty-year-old tracker-action organ, replacing it with an electronic
instrument at the behest of a subsequent organist.

There are several factors involved in considering
alterations to an organ. Will altering the organ diminish or enhance its
artistic or historical value? Will the proposed alterations add to the concept
of the organ? Will they change the organ’s personality? If so, is that
intentional? Have styles changed enough since the organ was built so that the
instrument is obsolete, not useful, difficult to play, unattractive to a wide
range of organists? Or simply put, will the alterations contribute to or
detract from the concept of the builder and the intentions of the purchaser?

Michelangelo’s ceiling is one of our most important
works of art--it is also the subject of one of the most notorious artistic
alterations. In 1559, during the Counter-Reformation, Pope Paul IV commissioned
Daniele de Volterra to alter the Sistine Chapel fresco of the Last Judgement by
painting draperies on male figures, earning Daniele the sobriquet il
Brachettone, translated roughly as
“the trouser-maker.”2 (The additions were later removed.) This
calls to mind the modern-day controversies over the use of government funding
such as the National Endowment for the Arts to support controversial art.
style="mso-spacerun: yes"> 

Should art be beautiful or controversial? The American
Heritage Dictionary (Houghton Mifflin Co.
2000) offers several definitions of the word art, the first of which is:
“Human effort to imitate, supplement, alter, or counteract the work of
nature.” That covers just about anything!