Ziegenfelder Residence Organ

The Isle of Man

This article is coming to you from the Isle of Man, an island some 30 miles long by about 14 miles wide, and sitting midway between Ireland and England. Its longest river--the Sulby--stretches for a full 10 miles or more, and Snaefell--the highest mountain--reaches a height of over 2,000 feet. Anyone with a world atlas and a magnifying glass to hand will have no trouble in locating the "Island," as those who live here often term it, off the west coast of England, facing Liverpool.

The Isle of Man may be little known in the wider world (or even on the "adjacent island" of England--we don't say "mainland," of course!) but like most places it does have its peculiar features which mark it out for those with special interests. It is an off-shore finance center, for example, with relatively low rates of tax. It is known for its motorcycle races (the "TT Races") which take place on the public roads--one of the largest (and arguably most dangerous) circuits of its kind in the world. For those who like unspoiled countryside to look at or walk over, and a quiet and relatively unhurried way of life, the Isle of Man is the place to be. It is an island of Fairies, one of the largest water-wheels you are ever likely to see, Celtic stone crosses and much more. Most important to me, and I hope of interest to readers, its small area is home to a surprising variety of some 50 or so pipe organs, and I am more than happy to have been the resident organ builder here for over 20 years.

For those of us with a fascination for the King of Instruments, there is much to be said about life here--too much for one article such as this--and rather than describe the organs as a whole in greater or lesser detail, I thought it might be better to describe some of the incidents which make the life of "the organ man" anything but tedious.

Looking back over the work undertaken in the recent past, I see one job which will be of interest to the great majority of organ players, from the professional recitalist to the home enthusiast who plays only for his own enjoyment. I refer to an ambition which attracts so many organists, and which eludes all but a few--the luxury of a real pipe organ in one's own home.

How many have investigated this possibility, only to find that the cost (and sometimes the space) involved ensures that the pipe dream remains just that? True, there is the electronic substitute--smaller and cheaper, with a great variety of Golden Tones of one kind or another--and then again the organ in church is usually available to the serious player--albeit not so attractive in the winter, nor so convenient for that odd 30 minutes practice at the end of the day. But for those badly infected by the organ bug, the unfortunates with an acute case of "organitis," there can never be any hope of a cure until they can see for themselves those gleaming ranks of metal and wooden pipes and the console with its several keyboards, waiting in the music room for their sole use!

So it was with The Reverend Alec Smith. His love of the organ had actually led him to start an apprenticeship in organ building as a young man, but he quickly saw the light, heard the call, and became an ordained priest in the Church of England. At that time, he assembled a worthy (if somewhat ungainly) collection of pipes, old keyboards, bits of mechanism, etc., into a Frankenstein creation which crouched in the corner of one of the large rooms of the vicarage in his country parish in England. This creation was a credit to its owner, but more than a little ponderous for anything other than a large house (preferably not your own) with plenty of spare rooms. When, in the fullness of time, Alec became an army chaplain, and he and his wife Jean were inevitably posted abroad, the organ was dispersed, almost all of it never to be seen again.

On retirement from the army, Alec settled in the Isle of Man and became Organ Advisor to the Diocese. It was now that the organ-building bug, which had lain dormant for so many years, was re-awakened, and the idea of a house organ was again proposed. There were, of course, several problems. The usual ones--centered around lack of space and finances--were, quite rightly, pointed out by Jean, and in any case there was a seemingly adequate 2-manual electronic, with its equally large speaker cabinet, already taking up far too much room in their small cottage in the Manx countryside. Jean correctly pointed out that it was more room they needed, not a pipe organ!

In a attempt to save some space, and acting on the advice of the local music shop, new and much smaller speakers were fitted to the electronic by an "expert" from Douglas, the Island's capital. After a day spent fitting the new speakers into the ceiling (with the novel use of a screwdriver to create some suitable holes in the plaster), the expert switched on, at which point there was an impressive bang followed by an ominous burning smell. It seemed, on later examination, that the amplifiers (intended to power two large speaker banks in a church setting) had seen the modern speakers as a virtual short circuit in electrical terms, with the inevitable result. The expert withdrew, promising to "work something out." I believe he left the Island, and, in any case, was never seen again. The electronic was no longer adequate. It was dead.

At this point, a further discussion took place on the subject of a new pipe organ, and Jean was persuaded, but only agreed on one seemingly-impossible condition: aside from the console, the new organ must not project into the room any further than the line of the first ceiling beam (some 14≤ from the end wall). Since there was no possibility of siting anything behind the walls (three of them being external, and the fourth taken up with the fireplace) the situation appeared hopeless, and it was at this point that Alec called me in.

Impossible situations regarding space are a challenge to the organ builder. More than one has succumbed to the temptation to push too-large an organ into too-small a space, with disastrous results, and I have seen the consequences of several of these unhappy situations. In one such case, an instrument was built in which the Great and Choir (mounted one above the other and in front of the Pedal pipework) "speak" into a solid masonry wall some 3 feet thick. Tuning/maintenance of such an organ is difficult if not impossible, and a warning to any organ designer. Alec's requirement was for the cheapest possible instrument, with a fair selection of stops over two manuals and pedals, all within a depth of 14≤. It had to fit into one small room of a cottage which has only three rooms on the ground floor (the other two being the kitchen and porch) and it must not be a monster from the tuning/maintenance standpoint.

There was space for only two or three sets of pipes, but Alec stated from the outset that, "I want more than three wheels on my car," so we were obviously looking to something other than mechanical action with two or three stops. This need to make the most of the available pipework suggested an "extension organ" of some sort. This, and the restrictions of the site, dictated electric action, and financial considerations suggested the simple mechanism as shown in the sketch. The question of electric versus mechanical action is one of those subjects likely to provoke strong opinions both for and against. In my view, each system has its merits and I am happy to work with either, but when a client requests more stops than the room or budget will allow, the obvious way forward is for a stoplist extended from a small number of ranks, and this means an electric mechanism. The design shown, if correctly made, is reliable, very quick (giving good repetition) and quiet. Incorrectly handled, it is none of these things, and has thereby acquired a poor reputation in some circles. With sufficient funds, and more space, an electro-pneumatic action would have been more sophisticated, but with enough care taken in its design and construction, direct electric action (as shown) is almost as good.

Some readers may be unfamiliar with the idea of an "extension" organ. This is an instrument in which a set, or "rank," of pipes is available to be played at more than one pitch. For example, a set of flute pipes could be played at 8' pitch (via a console stop labeled, say, Stopt Diapason 8') and the same set could also be available at 4' pitch (via a console stop labeled Flute 4') or at 16'  pitch (in which case the console stop might be labeled Bourdon 16') and so on. Clearly, the idea has its uses and abuses, as in the case of the 2-manual and pedal organ in which every console stop was actually taken from a single rank of Dulciana pipes!

The final stoplist is one which I have used successfully on various occasions. It is based on three ranks representing the three main tone-colors of the organ:  Diapason, Flute and String. Each of the three ranks consists of 73 pipes, and are listed below as:

Rank A/ Open Diapason, running from C13,

Rank B/ Stopt Diapason, running from C1, and

Rank C/ Salicional, running from C13.

In addition there are 12 stopped Quint pipes (shown below as "Q") running from G8 (at 8' pitch) for the pedal 16' stop (see later).

(Reed tone was not included, as it is difficult to have conventional reeds sufficiently quiet for such a small setting. In any case, there was no space available.)

Note that the Open Diapason is of small scale, and this made it much more suitable, for our purpose, than the more usual scaling of such a stop. When selecting second-hand pipes for a home extension organ, a Principal would be the first choice  to provide the Open Diapason--Principal--Fifteenth "stops," as they appear on the console, and I have even known a Gamba to make a very acceptable open metal extension rank, once it had been re-scaled and re-voiced. Ideally, where finances are not a limiting factor, new pipes should be made for all ranks, so that their scaling can be suited to the room and stoplist.

If an "extension" scheme is to work, musically, it is important to avoid the temptation of too many stops from too few pipes. I know of one organ with the stops simply repeated on each keyboard, and though this gives maximum flexibility, it is very confusing from the player's point of view, and the instrument as a whole is strangely bland and characterless. The three sets of pipes for Alec's organ were made available at different pitches, under the guise of different stop names, to make registration more straightforward from the player's point of view. In this way, some 15 speaking stops are available to the organist, instead of three which would result from the use of mechanical action.

The specification shown has only one stop (the Stopt Diapason) actually repeated on each manual. This is because it is so frequently used, and blends with the other two ranks at 8' pitch.  None of the other manual stops are repeats, and they have been arranged so as to discourage the use of the same rank at only one octave apart. (E.g.,  the Open Diapason 8' is intended to be used with the Salicet 4', or the Flute 4', not the Principal 4', as you might expect.) Using the stops of an extension organ in this way reduces or (more usually) eliminates the well-known "missing note" problem, which occurs when one strand of the music runs across another, and both need a pipe from the same rank, albeit from different extended "stops." If, for instance, the Stopt Diapason 8' and Flute 4' are drawn on the same manual and key C25 is held down, the pipes heard, as counted from the flute rank, will be C25 and C37. Now add manual key C13, which will sound pipes C13 and C25 (which is already playing from key C25). In this example a pipe at the pitch of C25 should appear twice, but actually appears only once. The missing note will be most obvious if either of the two manual keys is held down while the other is repeated.

One of the most important criticisms to be levelled at an extension scheme is this problem of missing notes, which can lead to a lack of clarity. For all practical purposes, this drawback can be completely overcome by a combination of the organ builder (in preparing a modest stoplist) and the player (in thoughtful use of the instrument, so that the smallest number of stops is drawn at any one time, preferably from different ranks, or at least from ranks separated by more than one octave). In actual practice, this kind of stop selection becomes automatic to the organist who realizes the limitations of the instrument.

Another important factor in the success of this type of organ is the regulation of volume and tone quality of the pipes within a stop, and also the regulation of the stops in relation to each other. Each stop is regulated with a very gradual crescendo from bass to treble. This requires subtle handling, but when correctly carried out results in a clear ensemble in which the treble parts can be heard above the tenor and bass.

The ranks themselves are regulated with much less distinction in power than would usually be the case, so that equivalent pipes of the Stopt Diapason are similar in volume to those of the Open Diapason, and the Salicional, while quieter, is not far behind. This results in much less contrast in power among the 8' stops and this is a compromise, of course, though you still have variety of tone. The blend between ranks played at different pitches is much better than if they are regulated in a conventional manner, with the Open Diapason much louder than the Stopt Diapason and Salicional distinctly quieter. In an instrument such as this, contrast in power is created more by contrasting combinations of stops than between the ranks themselves. Regulating the ranks as if they were separate stops (a mistake often found in both church and house extension organs) results in the Open Diapason and Principal obliterating everything else, while the Fifteenth screams. 

I have used the specification shown several times, including my own house organ, and find it to behave very much as a 'straight' instrument would. I seldom use the couplers, though there are occasions when they become necessary. While it requires thoughtful registration to get the best from an extension organ, a scheme such as this, with a small number of stops, arranged so as to discourage the use of the same rank in two stops separated by only one octave, is very successful.

To cut down costs, Alec agreed to the use of his old electronic as a console, and also to the use of any other second-hand parts which could be obtained. He was also interested and able to lend a hand in the actual construction, when his earlier experiences in organ building were a great asset. The need to keep within 14≤ maximum depth was easily dealt with, by taking up the entire width of the room, side-to-side.

Knowing the number and range of the ranks and the space available, the first step, in a job such as this, is to measure the pipework, in order to see how best to arrange the pipes, and, indeed, if they will fit in at all!

Metal pipes need to be measured in height and in diameter, wooden ones in height only (including any stoppers). In practice, nearly all metal pipes run to a standard scaling (i.e., the rate at which the diameters reduce from note C1 through to the top pipe). Wooden pipes vary considerably, both in scaling (the internal width and depth) and in the thickness of the wood used, which in turn decides the external width and depth. There is also the question of the foot, which, in second-hand wooden pipes (and some new ones) can be bored well off-center. For these reasons it is best to make a paper template of the bottom of each wooden pipe, as described later.

I already had a small scale (i.e., relatively small diameter) Open Diapason rank, and a Salicional, both running form C13 (so the longest pipe in both sets was about 4' speaking length) and Alec located, from a friendly organ builder on the mainland, the Stopped Diapason pipes (running from C1) and a bundle of miscellaneous stoppered wooden pipes for the pedal Quint.

The necessary measurements were taken and noted down in the form of a table. I find it convenient to have a sheet of paper with the 12 notes C through to B in a column down the left-hand edge, followed by vertical columns headed "1--12" then "13--24" then "25--36" and so on, up to "73--84," placed from left to right across the page. This forms a table which will cover an 84-note rank, the biggest usually needed. (Note C85 is only necessary in the case of a rank which runs from 8' pitch to 2' pitch, where the organ has a manual key compass of 61 notes. This C85 pipe needs an additional square to itself.) Every square represents a pipe, and in each one can be written the length and diameter (if metal), together with other details such as size of a rackboard hole, and toe hole etc., which are also measured at this time.

Notice that only the Stopped Diapason rank has its bottom octave (in organ building terms, a "Stopped Bass") the largest pipe of which is, like the other two ranks, something over four feet long. The Salicional and Open Diapason share this bottom octave, as does the 16' pedal stop (the "Harmonic Bass") which produces an acceptable 16' substitute, in the first 12 notes of the pedalboard, by playing the Stopped Bass pipes with the appropriate Quint pipe (from a separate and therefore very soft, 12-note rank of wooden pipes). The resultant note (actually a low hum) which is created from a combination of any stop of 8' pitch and its quint is at 16' pitch. Admittedly, this is much softer than the two pipes actually sounding. The pedals from C13 up play the Stopped Bass again, and then the rest of the Stopt Diapason, thereby sounding at true 16' pitch. These compromises are necessary to reduce the size of the organ, and, if carefully carried out, are soon accepted by the player and listener, especially in a small room.

While there is no substitue for the soft, heavy, warm tone of a full-length Bourdon bass, I have asked many players (including several professionals) their opinion on this "resultant" 16' pedal stop. So far, no one has realized what he was playing until it was pointed out. They all accepted it as a pedal 16'  stop, like any other. The least convincing notes in the bottom octave are, predictably, the smallest three or four. If there is room for full-length pipes down to, say, F#7, so much the better.

It is worth noting that a quinted 16'  effect which uses the pipes of the Stopt Diapason rank only is almost always a failure, because the quint will be too loud. If you have no room for the extra Quint pipes, it is better to use the 8' octave of the Stopt Bass on its own (from pedal keys C1 to B12) before completing the pedal compass by repeating the Stopt Bass followed by the rest of the Stopt Diapason. Another possibility worth considering is a 16' bottom octave in free reeds.

Full-size card or paper templates are needed to represent the metal pipes, as seen from above. It is not normally necessary to make these for every pipe, as different stops usually reduce in diameter, note for note, to a more or less standard pattern. If this pattern is known, the set of templates need cover only the range of diameters from the fattest metal pipe in the organ (in this case C13 of the Open Diapason) down to the minimum spacing dictated by the pipe-valve mechanism. (As direct electric action was being used and the smallest magnets were 3/4≤ wide, with pipes placed directly above the valves, minimum pipe spacing = 3/4≤ + 1/8≤ clearance [= 7/8≤] no matter how small the pipes.)

Like most organ builders, I have a set of these circular templates for general use, so templates for the metal pipes were already at hand, but the wooden pipes had to have paper templates individually made to show their exact shape and the center of the pipe feet. Such a template is made by taking an over-sized piece of paper, drawing on it a circle which equals the diameter of the pipe foot, cutting this out, and sliding the paper up under the pipe and creasing around the four sides. Once the paper is removed and trimmed to size, the original circle can be taped back into place, resulting in an accurate template.

Alec's wooden Stopt Diapason (reputedly by the well-known Victorian organ builder, William Hill) was over 100 years old, and may have been in more than one organ during its lifetime. Its mouths were rather high, which made the tone breathy, and some of the pipes had been mitred, or were cut too short, possibly where they had been in a crowded swell box. But it was basically sound and we went on the basis that it could be made acceptable by repairs, lowering the mouths and re-voicing. The Salicional and Open Diapason ranks were also Victorian, from a local Methodist church. Again, they were not perfectly scaled or voiced for a house  organ, but were basically well-made and capable of re-voicing. All the pipes were measured, and with the tables of measurements and templates to hand, and a given space into which to fit the pipes and action, the process of "setting out" could begin.

An instrument with direct electric action enables the builder to arrange pipework in almost any pattern, within the limits of the room and the physical space taken up by the pipes themselves (or, in the case of the tiny treble notes, the size of their magnets and valves). My preferred system of setting out is slightly unusual, in that I like to place the taller pipes behind the smaller pipes, regardless of their rank. Most other builders would plant pipes in rows, each row being made up from pipes of the same rank.

Secondly, and in common with many of my colleagues, I prefer to plant pipes in "sides," i.e., pipe C1 on the extreme left of the organ, and C#2 on the right, working down to the treble pipes in the middle. In this way, all the pipes of the "C side" (C, D, E, F#, G#, A#) will be on the left, and those of the "C# side" (C#, D#, F, G, A, B) will be on the right.

These two underlying principles result in a pipe set-out which is visually attractive, compact, and which offers the greatest accessibility for tuning and maintenance. Admittedly, it does lead to some complications in the cabling patterns between the console and the magnets, but this is not an insurmountable problem. (In fact, the many cables for this organ were made up, wire by wire, by my school-boy workshop assistant, with no errors at all.)

Alec and I set out our templates on strips of white paper, as wide as Jean would permit, (the 14≤ maximum) and as long as the space available (i.e., the width of the room: 157≤ or just over 13 feet). After a day or two of pushing the templates around, and, bearing in mind the many details such as how the pipes could be best faced away from each other, the space to be allowed for rack pillars, cable registers, assembly screws and many other essentials beyond the scope of this account, we decided upon the ideal arrangement, with the pipes set out on three chests. The chests were placed one above the console, for the treble pipes, and one on each side at a lower level, for the bass pipes. The central chest was just under 13≤ from front to back, and the two other chests were only 9≤ wide. The whole organ would stand in the maximum ceiling height of 91≤ (barely over 71/2 feet). The actual planting pattern was so tight that every possible space has been used, given the limited width and length available. Even so, no pipes are crowded, and all of them have been accommodated. The fronts of the three chests were made from oak-veneered ply salvaged from the old speaker cabinet and console back of the electronic. Consequently, they matched the finish of the console exactly.

Admittedly, there was no room for any casework or building frame, and we had yet to solve the problem of space for the blower, wind pressure regulator, wind trunks, low voltage current supply and one or two other essentials, but these are minor obstacles to the true organ fanatic!

The actual construction of the instrument started with the chests--comprising the pipe ranks, toe boards, or top boards (on which the pipes stand) "wells"  (the sides and ends) and bottom boards. Details of each chest varied with the numbers of rows of pipes, but the sketches showing the basic mechanism will give a good idea of a typical chest in cross-section.

Strips of mdf (a sheet material available in 3/4≤ thickness) were cut for the top boards for each of the three chests, and the pipes centers were punched directly onto them, using the paper setouts, taped down, as a template. Based on these centers, the magnets, valves, pipe racks and the many other details of the mechanism can be marked out and fitted. Unfortunately, a detailed description of this procedure is beyond the scope of a general article such as this. While the basis of the mechanism is shown clearly in the sketch, there are a great many practical details which must be finalized in design and observed in manufacture, if this deceptively simple idea (drilling a hole, screwing a magnet and valve under it, and planting a pipe on top of it) is to be carried through to create a reliable musical instrument. Such a mass of information has not, to my knowledge, ever been written down, as it is essentially based on practical experience over the years. If any readers are interested in further practical details, it may be possible to describe some of the problems involved, and how they are overcome, in a future article, but only a practicing organbuilder can have all the necessary skills and knowledge to cope with every situation, and this makes it impossible to give a general "recipe" for building an organ.

The wind supply is provided by a small electric blower of course, but this one is unusual, in that it was passed on to Alec by an organ-building friend from the days of his original house organ. Indeed, it turned out to be the very same blower, which had returned to him, after an absence of 30 or more years! It proved to be an excellent machine, and very quiet when housed in a new silencing cabinet.

It was necessary to regulate the wind pressure to a value suitable for the pipes and their setting, and, of course, we had no space for traditional bellows. In a case such as this, I used my own design of wind pressure regulator (basically a hinged plate of 1/2≤ sheet material, "floating" over a rubbercloth diaphragm, and supporting some suitably-tensioned springs). Movement of the plate controls a valve which allows wind from the blower through to the chests. As the pipework makes a demand on the supply, the valve opens just far enough to maintain pressure to within 1/8≤ or less at peak demand. This is an acceptable degree of control, and only a very critical ear will notice the slight fall-off in power. Every builder has his favorite design for such a regulator (sometimes called a 'schwimmer' or, in my case, a 'compensator') and they all bear a strong family resemblance. Not all are equally effective, however, and some are prone, under adverse conditions, to fluttering (creating an effect like a very rapid Tremulant). Again, only experience of such devices can provide a way out of trouble, though there are some basic rules in compensator design.

The steady, regulated wind from the compensator is fed to the chest by a rather broad, but shallow, wind-trunk (made in mdf, like the blower box and compensator). This is fixed to the back wall, out of sight, behind the console.

With all the basic elements designed, there still remained the question of the 14≤ limit on width. Obviously, the blower box and compensator were too wide to keep within the limit, so it was decided to camouflage them, together with the circuit boards, transformer/rectifier unit, and other large components.

In the final design, the three chests were screwed to plates of 3/4≤ ply, previously fixed, in a true vertical position, to the rather uneven stone wall. The console was placed centrally, with the two outer chests (holding the bass pipes) low down on each side. The third chest (containing all the treble pipes) was fixed centrally on the wall, just behind and above the console's music desk. Two bookcases were made to fill completely the gap between the sides of the console and the side walls of the house. They were set rather further forward than would be usual, with a broad top which ran back to the wall behind, effectively disappearing under the side chests.

On the left of the console, the bookcase is a real one, with its top extending over the circuit boards and transformer/rectifier unit hidden behind. To the right of the console the seemingly identical bookcase is, in fact, a dummy. Its shelves and books are only about 11/4≤ deep. (One of the more bizarre scenes in the workshop was that of pushing large quantities of scrap books through the circular saw, leaving their spines and an inch or so of paper and cover. These truncated volumes look convincing when glued, side-by-side, onto the foreshortened bookcase back.) The space under the dummy bookcase top contains the blower box and compensator. The bookcases, blower box, compensator, etc., all sit on 3/4≤ ply panels which have been leveled onto the floor.

Once Alec had installed his real books and ornaments, the organ (while visually dominating such a small room, as it must) blended into its domestic setting beautifully, with a spectacular visual touch being provided by a trumpet-blowing angel, carved in oak, which had been salvaged from a local church altarpiece,

What of the finished product? Naturally, the instrument is a compromise--but then this is true of all but the largest organs. It is a pity, for instance, that there was no room for a swell box, or another rank, but it is a wise builder or player who knows when he has gone as far as space and finances will allow. The wooden Stopt Diapason rank had its top lips lowered, and was re-voiced to produce a charming, rather quaint sound, with none of the original's unattractive, breathy tone. The Open Diapason had to be softened to just short of dullness, and now adds considerable fullness and warmth. The Salicional has made an excellent quiet voice, and is also very useful in its other pitches, where it adds brightness without shrillness. This is most important in a small room, and it is worth noting that, the larger the room (up to cathedral proportions) the brighter and more cutting the treble pipework can, and must, be. But the opposite is true for a small space, where top notes can easily become uncomfortably piercing--hence the lack of Mixtures on small house organs with no swell boxes. Many visiting organists, both professional and amateur, have played Alec's instrument since its completion, and all have been pleasantly surprised by its resources and the fact it is possible to produce satisfying performances of both classical and romantic works, albeit with some ingenuity on the part of the player.

True, it would have been possible to install a "large" electronic with three or four manuals, a wide range of stops and artificial reverberation, and I can see the attraction of such an idea, especially for the player whose interest lies in large-scale, romantic works. But, I cannot imagine anything less convincing than the sound of pedal and manual reeds, with Diapasons and mixtures, echoing with a five-second reverberation, across a room some 16 feet long and 8 feet high. The sound of a small organ in a small room, with no reverberation at all, is an authentic one and has a special charm. Whether it be two or three ranks of pipes offered with mechanical action as two or three stops, or whether, as in this case, the ranks are extended to several "stops," the small domestic instrument has a sound and fascination all its own, and is capable of giving much pleasure, both visually and musically, over many years.

Peter Jones will be pleased to receive comments, either on this article, or relating to readers' own experiences, at: The Bungalow, Kennaa, St. John's, Isle of Man, 1M4 3LW, Via United Kingdom

Manual I

                  8'            Open Diapason A

                  8'            Stopt Diapason B

                  4'            Salicet C

                  4'            Flute B

                  22/3'    Twelfth C

                  2'            Fifteenth A

                                    Man II/Man I

Manual II

                  8'            Stopt Diapason B

                  8'            Salicional C

                  2'            Salicetina C

                  11/3'    Nineteenth C

Pedal

                  16'         Harmonic Bass B & Q

                  8'            Bass Flute B

                  4'            Fifteenth A

                  2'            Salamine C

                                    Man I/Ped

                                    Man II/Ped

Summary

                  A              Open Diapason 73 pipes

                  B              Stopt Diapason 73 pipes

                  C              Salicional 73 pipes

                  D              Quint 12 pipes

In last month’s issue of The Diapason we started to recount the fictional story of one church’s experience with the process of purchasing and installing a new pipe organ. We pick up the tale this month as the new organ actually arrives at the church. 

Note: All fiction is based on reality. While many of the episodes are derived from past experience, this narrative can be described as a reflection on an actual project that is nearing completion at this writing. Christ Church in New Haven, Connecticut is installing an important new organ built by Lively-Fulcher Organbuilders of Rocky Mount, Virginia. The Organ Clearing House arranged for the sale of the previous organ and prepared the striking building (designed by Henry Vaughan) for the new instrument with the renovation of the organ chamber and other related projects. These thoughts are not offered as an actual account of the project but those who participated will recognize vignettes . . .

Here it comes!

The organ committee worked hard to plan the day. The organ would arrive in a huge truck at one o’clock on Sunday afternoon. The pastor’s sermon recalled the words of the Besançon Carol of the Advent:

People look East, the time is near

of the crowning of the year.

Make your house fair as you are able,

Trim the hearth and set the table.

People look East and sing today,

Love the Guest is on the way.

He reminded us how hard we work to dress up our houses, both domestic and spiritual, for the coming of the Lord and suggested that the huge effort to purchase this new organ is an expression of that preparation. 

After worship we had a pot-luck meal. The organ committee showed us videos that had been taken at the organbuilder’s workshop during the open house last month. It was fun to see our fellow parishioners in that different setting. They showed slides of the people who work at the shop so we’d know them a little when they arrived, and they showed photos of the organ as it stood in the workshop. 

When the meal was finished we went outside and sat on the steps and the truck came around the corner right on time. What a special moment. Our church has been working toward this for years. The organ committee spent almost two years studying before making a recommendation to the parish. The organbuilder had to finish a couple of instruments before building ours, and once they started it took most of a year to finish it. And now this new instrument, a work of art created just for us, was sitting outside our church.

The truck driver opened the doors and we could see myriad fascinating shapes wrapped in blankets. Here and there a few pieces were exposed--we could see immediately that they were built with great care by skillful people. A ramp was set up from the truck to the church’s porch. Ropes and straps were untied and the first few pieces came off the truck. They let us carry some of them. As the parts were carried into the church, the blankets were draped across the backs of the pews. Four hours later, the church was full of the most extraordinary collection of crates, finished lumber, and mysterious gizmos. We wandered around looking at it amazed that anyone could possibly make sense out of it all. The organbuilders seemed confident enough. They walked around with us saying this is the Great windchest . . . this is the back panel of the Swell Box . . . here are the slider motors of the Swell and Choir . . . the façade pipes are in these crates--never touch them with your fingers . . .

Hoist away

The next week was an energetic flurry. Scaffolding was erected, hoisting equipment was hung in the organ loft. The workers opened crates and sorted out piles of structural parts. They took measurements and made marks on the floor and started sorting and lining up the organ parts. The floor frame was put in place in the chamber--they explained that the frame positioned the organ in the church and provided the locations for the organ’s legs and the various other parts that would be located on the floor of the organ. The biggest pipes of the pedal division would be against the walls of the chamber. Their windchests were put in place and the racks that would support the pipes were assembled and screwed to the walls. The biggest pipe would be first. It was rolled across the floor on dollies, tied to the hoist with canvas slings, and guided up through the opening into the chamber. It took eight workers to stand it up and hook it to the rack above the windchest. Imagine, all that bulk for one note! Someone said, “it’s a very special note.”

It’s alive

Heavy pieces of framework followed and in no time we could see the outline and bulk of the instrument. The windchests were hoisted into place, positioned by dowels. They were obviously very heavy, but it was amazing to see how carefully the workers handled them. Some of the workers carried the organ blower down the stairs to the basement. The electricians arrived and starting running wires to the blower, the organ console, and the organ chamber. The blower was turned on for the first time. The bellows came up, a few machines moved--like they were coming to attention. Someone from the church remembered scenes in the movies when the mad scientist throws a big switch, there’s a lot of noise, lightning, and smoke, and the monster strapped to the table opens its eyes. The organ came to life. 

The organbuilders crawled around inside the organ adjusting things, and pretty soon it was quiet in the organ. They tested notes and we could hear air blowing from holes in the windchests. And those big bass pipes were played for the first time. You could feel the sound from the floor through your feet. If you sat in a pew you could feel the sound through your back and backside. The organ came to life.

A few days later they were opening crates, unpacking pipes, and handing them up into the organ. There were thousands of them. Everyone was wearing gloves. Row after row of gleaming pipes stood in the organ looking like a choir waiting for its conductor. They tested notes. We could tell that it was rough and unfinished sounding. One of the workers joked, tuned at the factory. Another asked, where’s that can of Perma-tune? They rough-tuned a couple of ranks and we could hear how wonderful it would be. The organ came to life.

Two weeks after the organ arrived, the nave was cleaned up, the crates were gone, the blankets were folded and stacked (there were hundreds of them), the scaffolding was down, and everything looked great. All but two of the organbuilders went home. Those two settled in to a couple months of careful methodical work. One was up in the organ manipulating the pipes, the other sitting at the console.

Thousands of pipes. Each pipe got special individual attention. Each time they both listened. Sometimes they weren’t satisfied with the sound of a pipe and agreed to come back to it. The one at the console kept a list. Watching and listening to them was a lesson in concentration. Sometimes we could hardly tell the differences they were listening for--but they sure could. Someone from the organ committee remembered the meeting in which they were told how different organs could be. This kind of careful attention must really set an instrument apart from “the usual.”

Each pipe was made to sound right, one at a time. Each pipe was made to sound right in the church and with the other pipes in the stop; and each stop was made to sound right with the other stops. When a two-foot stop sounded good with the chorus but was too loud to use without the Mixture, they voiced it again. Gradually the organ was transformed. It had sounded like a street fair at first--now it was becoming refined. The organ’s voicers are just like coaches of diction, of manners, of refinement, and of excitement. Remember Rex Harrison and Julie Andrews, “She’s got it. By George, she’s got it!” 

It’s finished

We’ve heard little bits and pieces of organ music coming from the sanctuary. We’ve heard just enough that we’re sure it’s going to be terrific, but we can hardly wait to really hear it. We can hardly wait to sing with it. The organbuilder was very clear--we wouldn’t use the organ until it was ready. He wanted our first impression to be based on something he was satisfied with--anything as complicated as this has thousands of things that could go wrong. That confirmed our knowledge that we were working with an artist who really cared about his work. And besides, we already know what a cipher sounds like! 

So we waited. The organ committee kept us up to date about the progress. We knew that our organist was spending time with the organbuilder and we could sense that she was excited. Finally, one Sunday during worship one of the members of the organ committee announced that the organ was finished and we would use it in worship for the first time next week.

The church was packed. The new organ looked great. We had all seen the drawings and models of the design, but we were not prepared for the effect of the real thing. The effect was increased because we had gotten used to seeing tools, boxes, and other gear in the church, and for the first time since the organ was delivered everything was neat and clean. We started with a hymn. The organ’s sound was clear and natural. When we started to sing we felt as if our voices were part of the organ--or that the organ was part of our voices. It was like drafting behind a truck on the highway--the sound came from our mouths without effort. We knew right away . . . 

It’s part of the family

It’s been two years since the new organ arrived. Two Christmases, two Easters, two summers full of weddings. But it’s not just back to normal. First of all, we haven’t seen the organist run across the front of the church to try to fix a cipher. There was one Sunday when something went wrong and they had to call in the organbuilder, but it was fixed right away and no one seemed worried about it. But more important, our worship is really different. The music is alive and that makes the services alive. Our singing gets better and better--there’s nothing like a good leader. Our organist is practicing a lot and often letting us know how exciting this is for her. And when she plays we can tell. 

We’ve started a concert series. It didn’t take long for our community to realize that our church was a good place to go to hear music. It’s not that we think we’re running a concert hall but it’s great to have so many visitors. Someone once said that there’s no such thing as bad publicity--but there really is nothing like good publicity. 

The purchase of a new pipe organ is a gift that one generation gives to those that will follow. How many venerable organs do we celebrate today that represent a story like this experienced by those who came before us? A new organ is a symbol of strength, of vision, and of faith. A new organ is an expression of excellence--a manifestation of human skills and workmanship. A new organ is the introduction of a new chapter in the life of any church--a lifetime experience for those who participate in it, and an opportunity to combine a parish’s identity with both its past and its future. 

“The Past Becomes the Future”--a double meaning. Every moment of our lives we are moving between the past and the future. The future of a community of worship must be both informed and unfettered by its past. A tricky balance to be sure, but when you get it right you know it.

But, what if your church has a fine organ that’s falling apart? Not every old organ needs to be replaced. Some churches own older instruments that are just as good or better than new--you simply can’t tell because they don’t work. And an organ is not necessarily a poor instrument just because it doesn’t happen to work. There are countless modern examples of organ committees whose study has led to the restoration of their existing organ, and there are many outstanding organbuilders who specialize in shepherding a venerable organ through a rebirth or renaissance. Our narrative is just as appropriate for the rebirth of an old organ as for the commissioning of a new instrument.

Whichever choice is right for your church, the decision will take plenty of time, effort, advice, and money. The result of committing all that treasure of human and financial resources will be the gift your parish leaves to your children.

Zion’s Lutheran Church, East Germantown, Indiana

A native of Indiana, Michael Rathke received his early organbuilding training with Goulding & Wood, Inc. He subsequently served a formal five-year apprenticeship plus a further two journeyman years with C.B. Fisk, Inc. In 2002 he traveled to England to work with Mander Organs, assisting with the refurbishment of the 1871 Willis organ in London’s Royal Albert Hall and the restoration of the 1766 George England organ at the Danson Mansion in Kent. Upon his return to the United States in 2004, Rathke established his own workshop, where his focus continues to be the building, restoration, and conservation of fine mechanical-action instruments.

I first visited Zion’s Lutheran Church in 1986, near the beginning of my organbuilding apprenticeship. I recall surprise in discovering that the venerable M.P. Möller, with whose plentiful local electro-pneumatic installations I was familiar, had once built mechanical-action instruments. If Zion’s organ were representative, Möller’s tracker output had clearly been more than respectable. Apart from a stiff key action, the organ was a pleasure to play, and its 16 stops made a grand sound in this relatively small church.

My next visit came 25 years later, shortly after setting up my own workshop nearby. On this occasion I was less struck by the Möller’s quality than by its evident deterioration. The organ looked fine, having recently received cosmetic repairs; its basic sound also remained fairly convincing, if not precisely as I remembered. But mechanically, the organ was a mess. The key action was heavy, sticky, and unpredictable; both manual windchests were suffering from obvious and severe sponsil damage; and the two reservoirs (supply-house units that had replaced the original double-rise) were living on borrowed time. Ciphers that could not be rectified abounded; other notes would barely play because their channels had been excessively bled to alleviate sponsil ciphers. The parishioners of Zion’s remained proud of their historic organ, admired its sound, and affirmed that it had served well since arriving in 1933 from a neighboring church. But it had also been an ongoing maintenance challenge. This vigorous but small congregation was understandably weary of spending money at regular intervals and being assured time and again that the organ was now “good as new,” only to find that each assurance had been optimistic, at best. 

When we were asked to take over the organ’s routine tuning and maintenance, we were also charged with making appropriate long-term recommendations. Our first was simply a year of watchful waiting, during which we proposed to carry out touch-up tuning and minor repairs but to do no major work, striving to keep near-term maintenance spending to an absolute minimum. We were thus able to observe the Möller through a full cycle of heating and cooling seasons, especially important given its location partly within an uninsulated organ chamber. This evaluation period also allowed the church a welcome respite from excessive cash outlays and to consider, for the first time, comprehensively restoring its fine but long-suffering pipe organ.

Several things soon became apparent. First, the 1933 relocation from St. Paul’s Lutheran in nearby Richmond—carried out by “two farmers and a mechanic,” according to local tradition—had begun the instrument’s woes. The movers had clearly been competent general craftsmen, but they appear not to have been trained organbuilders. Second, the masonry chamber within which some two-thirds of the organ resided was not well sealed, leaking cold air in winter and hot air in summer, along with the odd bit of blown snow and rain. Third, although the chamber tone opening was more than ample and allowed good tonal egress, the chamber itself was almost too small for the organ it enclosed. The pedal chests had been wedged in at contrary angles, with key action run cross-lots and cobbled together from an assortment of wood tracker stock and soft copper wire. Fourth, the movers had provided absolutely no tuning or maintenance access. To carry out such basic operations as adjusting key action nuts required removal of most of the pedal pipes; to tune the Oboe necessitated either the removal of façade pipes or a precarious climb high above the pedal division.

During this year-long interim, Zion’s organ committee wrestled with a number of options and contending opinions from parishioners, some of whom felt strongly that it was time to “stop pouring money down a black hole, discard the old Möller, and replace it with an ‘up-to-date’ electronic.” While congregational sentiment ran generally against this course, especially among clergy and musicians, many felt rebuilding the Möller or selling it outright would make the most sense. Others in this 190-year-old church advocated a comprehensive restoration, emphasizing the organ’s history, accumulated stewardship, and importance to the fine music program for which Zion’s was known. The church solicited bids for all options, each of which was studied and debated in detail.

Following a vote by the entire church membership, M.P. Rathke, Inc. was awarded the contract for a full and strict mechanical restoration of the Möller. The organ committee chair later explained that we had tendered the winning bid in large part because it was also the low bid, the cost of comprehensively restoring the Möller being significantly less even than a modest electronic to replace it. (The previous sentence is worth re-reading for anyone fortunate enough to possess a historic instrument from any builder.)

During the course of restoration the organ was dismantled in its entirety. Pipework, which upon initial inspection had appeared clean and in relatively good condition, was stored in the church fellowship hall; everything else was taken to our workshop for cleaning, refurbishment, and repair. While in-shop work was proceeding, parishioners were busy tuckpointing, insulating, sealing, caulking, and painting the organ chamber. They also removed carpet from the choir area in front of the organ, sanded and refinished the yellow pine floor below, and invested in a simple humidification unit, built into the existing forced-air HVAC system.

Physical repairs, reinforcement, and reconstruction 

The mechanical restoration was labor-intensive but relatively straightforward. We discovered that sponsil failure had been caused not only by the common condition of overheated, dry winter air, but also by sagging at midpoint of both manual windchests owing to glueline creep. Grid sponsils had thus opened on their undersides like the folds of an accordion in response to 115 years of gravity. After patching and regluing the sponsils, we provided reinforcement to the grid rails of both manual chests to prevent future deflection and to ensure that sponsil repairs would remain permanent. Keyboards were cleaned, flattened, polished, and rebushed; key tails were refelted and releathered. The Swell to Great coupler was comprehensively refurbished. Drawknobs were cleaned and relacquered, stop jambs were rebushed, and a purpose-made rotary blower switch (replacing a massive and unsightly industrial knife switch) was manufactured and applied to the old Bellows Signal stopknob. Kristen Farmer of Winston-Salem, North Carolina, was engaged to strip the many layers of flat black paint that had been applied to the nameboard and to carry out a painstaking restoration of the original silver-leaf stenciling (Photo 1). Five components required remanufacturing, either in full or in part:

1. Double-rise reservoir—It is clear that the organ’s original 5′ x 8′ double-rise reservoir survived the 1933 move to Zion’s along with the rest of the instrument. But in the early 1960s the old reservoir was cut into pieces and replaced by a pair of small and inadequate supply house units, likely because of the difficulty of carrying out proper releathering within the extremely tight confines of the chamber. Most of the old reservoir was discarded at that time, but a few pieces were reused as walkboards, bracing, and a jury-rigged post shoring up one corner of the organ’s framework (ironically, replacing a structural post that had been hacked away to gain demolition access to the old reservoir).

Replicating the reservoir turned out to be less difficult than envisioned, for enough fragments remained that we were able to determine all dimensions and relevant construction details. After developing a working design, we entrusted the actual fabrication to
J. Zamberlan & Co. of Wintersville, Ohio (Photo 2). I first met Joe Zamberlan in 1989 during our respective apprenticeships with Fisk and Noack; our similar training and philosophies have since led to collaborations on a number of projects, Zion’s being but the most recent.

2. Pedal key action—When the Möller was built for St. Paul’s Lutheran in 1897, its internal layout was fairly typical: the Swell stood directly behind the Great at impost level, with pedal chests located near floor level, one on the CC side and the other on the ## side (Sketch A, p. 28). At Zion’s, however, this configuration was impossible owing to the absence of space on the ## side. The 1933 movers thus placed all pedal resources on the CC side, where an L-shaped chamber configuration afforded almost enough room.

However, the Zion’s chamber also required the Pedal chests to be located farther toward the back wall (away from the player) than at St. Paul’s. The original action had employed a unique rollerboard, with cranked arms below the pedalboard and rollers running straight back from the keydesk; trackers had then continued at right angles to the Pedal chests. With the chests forced rearward, the 1933 movers chose not the preferable solution of extending the rollerboard and maintaining the original geometry, but rather the Rube Goldberg solution of chiseling away part of the chamber wall and running trackers at a 45-degree angle (Sketch B, p. 28). This somewhat counter-intuitive approach did get the job done, more or less, but it also reduced tracker motion by nearly 50% and imposed undesirable friction and lateral stresses on the Pedal action. We constructed a new rollerboard—essentially a “stretched” replica of the original (Photo 3) utilizing every scrap of old material we could salvage—and installed it in a manner consistent with Möller’s 1897 design (Sketch C, p. 28.)

3. Pedal winding and stop action— The asymmetrical chamber at Zion’s prompted the 1933 movers to choose yet another unusual solution. Because the Bourdon 16′ chest was slightly too long to fit the available space, it was jammed in askew; the slightly shorter Flute 8′ chest fit alongside with no difficulty. Both pedal chests were then served by the same key action run, but winding was less straightforward because each chest employed ventil rather than slider stop action. Thus two wind ducts were required, but only the 16′ Bourdon chest could be winded easily. Undaunted, the movers ran a second galvanized duct straight through the Bourdon chest rollerboard (!), cut a rough hole in the 8′ Flute chest bung board, inserted the duct, puttied it in place, and then located stop action ventils as best they could. Among other drawbacks, this clumsy arrangement made impossible the removal of the Flute chest bung board for maintenance. (Photo 4) The 2013 solution entailed attaching both stop-action ventils to the reservoir (their original location), constructing new poplar wind ducts to match remnants of the originals, and installing in a manner consistent with other Möllers of the period. (Photo 5)

4. Floor frame and building frame replication—During the 1960s, the Möller underwent a rough removal of portions of its floor and building frames to facilitate demolition of its original double-rise reservoir. Instead of reinstalling the load-bearing post, beam, and floor frame, workers simply nailed up scabs of material left over from the old reservoir, which at best provided crude and insufficient support. (Photo 6) We manufactured and installed replicas of the original floor frame and building frame, taking care to match wood species and copy joinery techniques from the rest of the instrument. 

5. Replica reservoir placement and Great wind duct re-routing—During its time at Zion’s, the Möller’s supreme drawback had been a lack of maintenance access. The general culprit was a narrow (8′2′′) chamber opening, compared with the width of the organ’s main internal structure (8′0′′), but specific obstacles included the location and orientation of both the original double-rise reservoir and the Great wind duct.

The 2013 solution was twofold. First, we turned the new reservoir 90 degrees from its original orientation, which allowed us to respect the essential layout of the original wind system while simultaneously opening a clear access path into the organ. (Sketch C) The end-on positioning of the new bellows will also make possible its easy removal for future releathering, as opposed to the crosswise orientation of the original, whose zero-clearance installation in 1933 surely contributed to its eventual demise.

The Great wind duct posed a more perplexing challenge. The original duct was intact in 2012; unfortunately, it completely blocked the only possible service access into the organ. The revised duct now exits the reservoir, crosses under the maintenance walkway, rises vertically, crosses back over the walkway, and finally makes a 90-degree turn forward to enter the Great pallet box. Although the new duct’s construction is somewhat complex, every effort was made to replicate winding characteristics of the original: routing was kept as direct as possible, and cross-sections were deliberately made slightly oversize to compensate both for increased duct length (an additional 19′′) and for necessary additional twists and turns.

Tonal restoration

Successful restorative voicing depends on a number of factors including sufficient intact material, the restorer’s familiarity with other instruments of the school and period, a cautious and deliberate approach, and especially an agenda-free willingness to allow pipes to tell the voicer what they want to do rather than vice versa. In the following paragraphs we will describe the Möller’s altered tonal state in 2012, outline its evaluation, and summarize how we undertook to reconstruct the 1897 sound.

In 1986, Möller Opus 188 still possessed many of the sonorities that inspired worshipers almost a century prior. By 2012, some beautiful sounds remained, although in greatly attenuated form. The exact cause and timing are difficult to pinpoint, in part because church records from the period are sketchy, but also because of the involvement of so many different technicians, some of whom attempted experimental voicing in a manner both curiously random and spectacularly unsuccessful. The physical evidence furnished by the pipes themselves in 2012 seems the most reliable record and will be related here.

All wood pipes were in essentially original condition, requiring little apart from minor regulation and physical repair. The organ’s sole reed stop—a sweet and assertive Oboe and Bassoon 8′—was likewise in decent physical shape apart from some badly torn tuning scrolls. It had undergone tonal work in 1970 by a local technician who, incredibly, chose to sign each C resonator in block capital letters incised with an awl. Fortunately, his voicing efforts were limited to lightly kinking and roughly cross-filing numerous tongues, both of which steps were reversed in 2013. The entire organ had unfortunately been repitched in 2000 to A-440, predictably choking off many reeds; restoring the original pitch of A-435 helped greatly in recovering the Oboe’s stability, promptness, and robustness of tone.

The metal fluework was a mixed bag. On the plus side, almost all interior pipework was physically intact, if not tonally unaltered. Pipes that were slotted in 1897 happily remained so; pipes originally cone-tuned had been fitted with sleeves but fortunately left close to their natural speaking lengths, so the net tonal effect was negligible. Numerous feet had collapsed from years of heavy-handed cone tuning and the use of thin foot material in the first place; we repaired this damage as a matter of course.

On the minus side, many inside pipes had been randomly altered by a variety of bizarre procedures. About a dozen lower lips had been pinched tight against the languids to where only the original coarse nicking allowed wind through the flue; these pipes murmured more than spoke. (This curious method was limited primarily to the Quintadena bass of the 8′ Aeoline.) A distressing number of windways had been aggressively filed open, removing significant material from both languid and lower lip. Upper lips of many mid-range principals had been torn and distorted; some appeared to have been gnawed by rats. Most front pipes, recipients in 2000 of a fresh coat of gold paint, barely spoke in 2012. While the paint job itself was competently executed from a cosmetic standpoint, obvious pre-existing damage had been simply painted over. Examples included out-of-round pipe bodies, dents, missing or broken tuning scrolls, collapsed lead toes, broken ears, and hooks held on by little more than a vestige of solder. Most front pipe windways had also received a generous infusion of paint (!), completely clogging the original nicking and materially reducing flueway cross-sections. Many dangled from their hooks, with wind leaking audibly at collapsed toes; this latter defect became evident only after the friction tape applied in 2000 as a band-aid repair dried out and began to unravel. Zinc conveyancing from the Great windchest was damaged or missing in many instances, causing weak or dead notes; a smooth dynamic transition between façade pipes and their interior continuations (Great Open Diapason, Dulciana, Octave) was nonexistent.

At this point we faced a critical dilemma. On one hand, we had been hired only to restore the Möller mechanically and to perform minor pipe repairs. Wholesale restorative voicing and major pipe repairs were neither contemplated nor included in the contract price. On the other hand, some pipe damage and tonal alterations became clear only after the restored action and wind system allowed pipes to be heard under full wind and precise control. We faced an uncomfortable choice between simply fulfilling the terms of our contract—delivering a perfectly functioning but poor sounding instrument—or moving ahead with necessary tonal work for which we could never be fully compensated. We ultimately chose the latter, not because it was a sound business decision—it was in fact a terrible business decision—but because of the virtual certainty that, if we didn’t, no one ever would. Then this fine and rare pipe organ, mechanically sound but tonally compromised, would likely be discarded eventually. (It is axiomatic that tonally ugly instruments are seldom preserved, no matter how well they function.) In the end, we simply couldn’t bear the thought. And so we prayed, put our noses to the grindstone, and forged ahead.

We tackled the façade first, essentially moving our pipe shop into the Zion’s sanctuary for a full month. Most of the 33 large speaking front pipes required rounding up on large mandrels, as well as removal of visible dents. Components such as ears whose proper reattachment would have involved soldering—impossible without scorching the gold lacquer —were repaired using clear epoxy. The most difficult operation was removing the enormous amount of paint that in 2000 had been sprayed down into the windways, filling in nicking and coating languids and lower lips with an unwelcome layer of crud. Our front pipe work was accompanied at all times by moderate sweat and considerable sotto voce profanity.

Inside pipes were in some ways easier because they were smaller, but there were also many more of them. A few had to be completely remade; a hundred or so more received careful corrective voicing to match their untouched neighbors; a few hundred more required little apart from cleaning, re-prepping, and normal regulation for tone, power, and speech. The final result is as much a testimony to Möller’s original pipemaking and voicing as to our care in resurrecting them.

Have the results repaid our efforts? On the one hand, it is not too much to say that Möller Opus 188 is once again mechanically reliable and tonally impressive, with a richness and versatility that compare favorably with the best of New England work from the period. As restorers, we are exceptionally proud of this magnificent pipe organ we have labored to bring back to life. On the other hand, ours is admittedly the pride of parents, or at least foster parents, and thus similarly subjective. The final assessment must rest with history, which will be informed by countless organists who have yet to experience this remarkable and historic instrument. We therefore encourage all interested readers to visit Zion’s Lutheran Church, to play and listen, and to decide for themselves. Especially we invite you to share with us your reactions and impressions. 

Restorers of the Organ

Joey Jarboe

Caleb Ringwald

Nicholas Ringwald

Paul Rathke

Michael Rathke

Special thanks to Fritz Noack, Christopher Sedlak, and Timothy McEwan.

Christ the King Lutheran Church, Walnut, California
Knight Organ Company, builder, San Diego, California
Manuel Rosales Organ Builders, voicer, Los Angeles, California
The congregation received the gift of its first and only organ from First Lutheran Church in Monrovia, California at the end of 1968. This three-rank Möller Artiste was purchased by First in 1950 and used in their small chapel. When the large sanctuary was built in 1968, First Lutheran gave Christ the King their 28-year-old pipe organ for their new building. The Möller opus 4300-13 comprised three ranks of pipes—8′ Diapason (76 pipes), 8′ Viole (72 pipes), 8′ Gedeckt (97 pipes), 16′ Bourdon (12 pipes)—and Schulmerich electronic chimes.
When the small Möller arrived at Christ the King, the console, pipes, and pipe case were placed in an open room west of the chancel. In 1981 when Paul Schuricht became organist, it was decided to move both the choir and organ to the rear of the nave. The wood chamber that contained the pipes was modified and placed above the Mother’s Room. A 4′9″ by 4′3″ opening was cut in the wall over the Mother’s Room for the sound of the organ to egress, with 15 new Principal pipes installed in the façade.
Because the 8′ Viole and 8′ Diapason were not conducive to leading the choir and the congregation, Paul Schuricht purchased an 8′ Principal (73 pipes) and a 4′ Gemshorn (73 pipes) along with a new set of 24 Gedeckt treble pipes to replace damaged ones; the new pipework was built by A. R. Schopp’s and Sons, Inc., of Alliance, Ohio. The renovation of the organ—including galvanized pipe for the wind duct, organ cable, chime relay, and the metal enclosure for the blower that would sit outside on the east side of the church—was to cost $3,500. On Sunday morning, June 13, 1982, the dedication service of the rebuilt pipe organ installed by Paul Schuricht, the organist, took place.
By December 2007 when the present organist, Michael Doyle, arrived, the organ had many problems: the wooden Gedeckt pipes’ stoppers needed to be releathered as they wouldn’t stay in tune; because the blower sat outside the church drawing in either hot or cold air, it was difficult to keep the organ in tune; the leather on the reservoir and chests needed to be replaced because it was 57 years old; the stop tabs were breaking off; and the organ had so few stops that it lacked tonal color. In April 2008, the blower was moved into the Mother’s Room, encasing it in a new cabinet that helped to keep the organ in tune.
Bids were submitted at the end of 2008 to enlarge and rebuild the Möller organ for $36,000; Manuel Rosales’s bid to rebuild the organ and add nine ranks of pipe was accepted. Mr. Rosales suggested that Robert Knight of Knight Organ Company in San Diego do the work, and Rosales would do the final voicing and tonal regulation. The specification was designed by the church organist, Michael Doyle, in consultation with Robert Knight and Manuel Rosales.
The rebuilding of the console and chests, and the new chests, woodwork around the façade, new pipe tower, and the new electronics were done by Mr. Knight, with the tonal voicing and tonal finishing by Mr. Rosales. The preparations started on January 19, 2009, when Bob Knight and his crew came to dismantle the Möller organ. The pipes were packed in crates, the chests were removed, the wood chamber walls were dismantled, and the organ was taken to San Diego to be rebuilt and enlarged in the Knight Organ Company shop. On Saturday, January 31, a crew of men from the congregation began work building the new organ chamber walls. Over the next six weeks, men and women of the congregation worked during the week and on Saturdays to complete the chamber walls, install insulation, double wallboard the interior walls, paint the walls with high-gloss enamel, enlarge the front opening of the chamber, and install lighting and a door to the chamber. The organ console platform was rebuilt with hardwood flooring.
The organ has 12 ranks of pipes and 38 stops. The oldest pipework in the organ is the three-rank Mixture that was produced by W. D. B. Simmons in 1863 and voiced during Abraham Lincoln’s first presidential term. The 8′ Salicional and 8′ Voix Celeste came from the 1913 Estey organ at Our Lady of Angels Catholic Church in San Diego, along with the 8′ Principal, a set of gold façade pipes that never spoke. The 8′ Trumpet came from the 1960 rebuild of the organ at First Baptist Church in San Diego, and was built by Durst Organ Supply of Erie, Pennsylvania. The 13⁄5′ Terz was made by Estey–Aeoline. The large swell shutters were from a 1920 Kimball organ, and the swell motor is from First Baptist Church in San Diego. A newer 1-hp blower was used to replace the old, inadequate Möller blower. The 16′ Subbass was built for a large college organ in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, by M. P. Möller in 1950. The 16′ Trumpet 12-pipe extension is new and was made by Organ Supply of Erie, Pennsylvania. The original 8′ Principal was rescaled to become the 4′ Octave, and the 4′ Gemshorn was rescaled to become the 4′ Spitzflöte. On the back wall of the nave are the 8′ Principal pipes in the original case, along with a three-pipe Principal tower that is new. There are a total of 787 pipes in the organ.
The rebuilt Möller organ console has been rewired with a new Opus-Two relay system, new keyboard and pedal contacts, and has a new tilting tablet assembly. There are now 41 tilting stop tablets, 5 pistons on Manual I, 5 pistons on Manual II, 10 general combination pistons, 10 general toe studs, setter piston, general cancel piston, and one toe stud for the 11-bell Zimbelstern. The organ also has a set of Maas-Rowe chimes that were given by Trinity Lutheran Church, Montclair, California. A family in the congregation gave funds for the Zimbelstern, Voix Celeste, and 16′ Trumpet extension. With the gift of the aforementioned items, the total cost of the organ was $45,050.
The organ was dedicated on Sunday, August 23, 2009, at the 9:00 a.m. service. Michael Doyle, the church organist, played music of Armsdorf, Bach, Buxtehude, Burkhardt, Cherwien, Manz, and Walther at the dedication hymn festival at 4:00 p.m.
—Michael Doyle

Christ the King Lutheran Church,
Walnut, California
GREAT—Manual I
16′ Lieblich Gedeckt
8′ Principal
8′ Gedecktflöte
8′ Salicional
4′ Octave
4′ Gedecktflöte
2′ Octave
III Mixture
8′ Trumpet
4′ Trumpet
Chimes
Positive to Great

POSITIVE—Manual II
8′ Gedecktflöte
8′ Salicional
8′ Voix Celeste
4′ Principal
4′ Spitzflöte
4 Salicet
22⁄3′ Nasat
2′ Spitzflöte
2′ Octave
13⁄5′ Terz
11⁄3′ Quint
1′ Sifflöte
8′ Trumpet
Tremulant

PEDAL
32′ Resultant
16′ Subbass
16′ Lieblich Gedeckt
8′ Principal
8′ Flöte
8′ Salicional
51⁄3′ Quint
4′ Choralbass
4′ Flöte
2′ Spitzflöte
II Mixture
16′ Trumpet
8′ Trumpet
4′ Trumpet
Great to Pedal
Positive to Pedal

Summary of Pipes
16′ Subbass 44 pipes
16′ Lieblich Gedeckt 12 pipes
8′ Principal 61 pipes
8′ Gedecktflöte 73 pipes
8′ Salicional 61 pipes
8′ Voix Celeste 49 pipes
4′ Principal 61 pipes
4′ Spitzflöte 73 pipes
13⁄5′ Terz 49 pipes
III Mixture 183 pipes
16′ Trumpet 12 pipes
8′ Trumpet 73 pipes

_______________________________________________

Lewis & Hitchcock, Beltsville, Maryland
Christus Victor Lutheran Church, Baltimore, Maryland
Christus Victor Lutheran Church has a Wicks organ. The pipe cabinet is on the left side of the chancel, and the console is on the right side. The console had no combination action, and the only accessory was the crescendo shoe. The desire was to add a combination action, and to reunify the five ranks to make a more flexible specification. Working with director of music Dr. Joseph Birdwell, we planned and installed a multiplex relay in the organ cabinet and a combination action with multiple layers of memory in the console, controlled by a full set of pistons and toe studs. The result is a much more flexible instrument, easily able to provide the right sound for the music.
—Gerald Piercy

GREAT
8′ Principal
8′ Rohr Gedeckt
8′ Gemshorn
8′ Gemshorn Celeste TC
4′ Principal
4′ Copula
2′ Octave
2′ Gemshorn
III Mixture
8′ Trumpet
Swell to Great

SWELL
8′ Rohr Flute
8′ Gemshorn
8′ Gemshorn Celeste TC
4′ Flute
4′ Gemshorn
22⁄3′ Quint
2′ Block Flute
13⁄5′ Tierce
11⁄3′ Larigot
1′ Gemshorn
8′ Trumpet
Tremolo

PEDAL
16′ Subbass
16′ Lieblich Bourdon
8′ Principal
8′ Rohr Gedeckt
4′ Choral Bass
2′ Flute
8′ Trumpet
4′ Clarion
Great to Pedal
Swell to Pedal
2 manuals, 5 registers, 5 ranks

The Mission Inn, Riverside, California, October 25, 2003

R.E. Coleberd is a contributing editor of The Diapason.

When you come to the end of a Perfect Day,

And you sit alone with your thought,

While the chimes ring out with a carol gay,

For the joy that the day has brought,

Do you think what the end of a Perfect Day

Can mean to a tired heart,

When the sun goes down with a flaming ray,

And the dear friends have to part?

Introduction

On Saturday evening, October 25, 2003, a gala banquet and recital for 250 guests in the Music Room of the Mission Inn in Riverside, California celebrated the rededication of the newly restored 1911 Kimball pipe organ. This majestic instrument, played daily by the staff organist and assistants in the early decades of the last century, was a defining characteristic of this world-famous resort hotel and a fond memory of the many guests who stayed there. Music at The Inn transcended the locality and reached the hearts of people everywhere when, in 1909, the noted song writer Carrie Jacobs-Bond (1862-1946) was inspired to write her most famous ballad "A Perfect Day" while visiting The Inn.1 This became the theme song of the programs and, appropriately, was the closing number of the recital which followed the banquet.

A milestone in the rich and colorful history of the pipe organ in America, the Kimball organ at the Mission Inn stands today as one of the few remaining hotel pipe organs in this country.2 As recitalist Dr. John Longhurst commented in his opening remarks: "its retention, renovation and recognition are a tribute to reverence for the past and a vision for the future." The project reflects the combined efforts of The Friends of the Mission Inn, a nonprofit support group, the generous bequest of the estate of Riverside historian Mrs. Esther Klotz, the enthusiastic support of hotel management and the untiring efforts of a local organbuilder who spent countless hours over two years bringing the instrument back to life.

The Mission Inn

The Mission Inn was built in 1903 as the Glenwood Mission Inn by Frank Augustus Miller (1857-1935) to the design of architect Arthur Burnett Benton, who championed the Mission Revival architectural style as an expression of California's Spanish Colonial heritage.3 Miller was responding to the growing demand by wealthy easterners for a warm winter climate and the luxurious features of a resort hotel. Here was an opportunity, with a signature facility, to compete with Pasadena and Redlands for this lucrative patronage. In 1910 the Cloister wing was added, one of several additions, and appointed with costly furnishings and objets d'art collected by Miller in his world travels. A focal point of the Cloister Room, located in the far right corner, is the three-manual Kimball pipe organ (see photo).

Over the ensuing decades, the Mission Inn, now listed on the National Register of Historic Places and California Historic Landmarks, played host to a star-spangled list of dignitaries. Presidents Harrison, McKinley, Theodore Roosevelt and Taft were guests. At the age of twenty-five John F. Kennedy attended a peace conference at The Inn. Richard and Pat Nixon were married in the Presidential Lounge, and Ronald and Nancy Reagan honeymooned there. Gerald Ford visited, as did George W. Bush in mid-October, 2003. Painted portraits of the presidents line the wall of the lobby adjacent to the lounge.4

The Kimball Organ

The Kimball pipe organ, with a commanding presence in the opulent Cloister Room, was dedicated on February 27, 1911 by John Jasper McClellan, a noted keyboard artist from The Mormon Tabernacle in Salt Lake City (see program).5 The occasion was a conference called by hotel owner Miller, described as a "humanist, prohibitionist, and as a tireless worker for international peace,"6 to discuss peace proposals espoused by Andrew Carnegie, the well-known steel magnate and philanthropist. McClellan's program, chosen in consultation with Miller, was an example of a repertoire deemed appropriate for a hotel pipe organ. The Music Room, as the Cloister Room came to be known, became a frequent meeting place for local organizations and hotel guests--bankers and school principals among many others--and a popular wedding venue.

In 1917 the Mission Inn employed Newell Parker as staff organist. He was a pupil of the prominent Los Angeles organist-composer Ernest Douglas.7 Appearing at the console in a blue cape and serving until his retirement in 1968, Parker played noon concerts daily and the ever-popular Sunday evening hymn sings. In 1931 Parker reported that he had played six hundred weddings in the past eight years.8 The American Organist published a list of compositions he found suitable for a hotel program (see box).9 Among notable organists who played the instrument was Alec Wyton, onetime president of the American Guild of Organists.10

The 1911 Kimball organ was a three-manual instrument of 32 ranks (see stoplist, p. 18) that the local press termed a "Cathedral" instrument "because it has the large variety of tone color, in number of speaking stops, and the dignity of tone expected in a cathedral organ."11 This no doubt pleased the image-conscious Miller who must have seen it as a competitive advantage in the market for the resort trade. The third manual was described as an Echo Organ located 150 feet from the main instrument while in fact it was a Choir division in the chamber.12

An analysis of the mechanical features and tonal palette of the Kimball affords key insights into the character and complexion of the American pipe organ at this time and in contrast to succeeding eras. Steuart Goodwin, a nationally-known expert in voicing and tonal finishing, who did the tonal work on the restoration in the chamber assisted by Wendell Ballantyne at the console, commented in the local press that the original instrument "isn't much different, really, from organs that were in churches in 1910."13 In this respect it is unique--and significant--in the history of Kimball, a major builder in the first half of the last century, in that it contrasts sharply with the orchestral paradigm of Kimball organs in the 1920s, the image customarily associated with this company's instruments. There was, of course, no distinctly hotel instrument, in contrast to the radically different theater organ emerging during this era.

Goodwin observes that some of the characteristics of early twentieth-century church organs shared by the Mission Inn instrument include large-scaled, robust, eight-foot Diapasons and at least one open wood flute (generally called "Melodia"); also, stops with names like Salicional and Cornopean.

The Kimball has three open flutes: Clarabella, Concert Flute and Gross Flute, all similar in scale. The Concert Flute has harmonic trebles. The Kimball strings are high in tin content, low in mouth cut-up and well voiced, in keeping with the builder's reputation for fine strings. They are delicate and bright in contrast to the larger more foundational strings favored later by G. Donald Harrison. The Trumpet and Cornopean are surprisingly bright, very Willis sounding, while the Clarinet is a bit soft. The Vox Humana was the familiar "Vox in a Box," located behind the Swell division in its own enclosure with manually set Swell shades and a separate, comparatively rapid tremolo. Some of the Diapason pipework was slotted, to alter the harmonic content into the more horn-like sound favored by most builders after about 1875.14

The Kilgen Rebuild

By 1930 the original tubular pneumatic key and stop action in the windchests and the lead tubing linkage to the console were obsolete and failing. The Inn then contracted with George Kilgen and Sons to rebuild and update the instrument mechanically and tonally.15 This work, supervised by the West Coast representative of the St. Louis firm, comprised a new console, installing electro-pneumatic primary action in the wind-chests, and adding stops and pipes. A major trend of the times was the use of the 4' coupler on manual divisions to brighten the ensemble in the absence of mixtures and mutations. This required adding chests and pipes to increase the manual compass on the Swell and Choir from 61 to 73 notes. The Pedal was expanded from 30 to 32 pipes. A unit flute, a 16' Lieblich Gedeckt, was added to the Swell, and a large Diapason added to the Choir. The Clarinet on the Great manual was moved to the Choir and replaced with a new French Horn (see stoplist, p. 18). Unfortunately, this new work was poorly placed. For example, the unit flute was located sideways in an alcove outside the Swell enclosure with the sound having to pass through the enclosure and the shutters. It was never satisfactory. Elsewhere, the new material was jammed in so closely and access so difficult that maintenance and tuning were nearly impossible.16

This instrument was introduced at a luncheon on January 19, 1931 before a blue-chip audience of two hundred forty-five musical personalities and southern California newspaper editors personally invited by Frank Miller. House organist Parker began the program with compositions by well-known Los Angeles and Long Beach organists who were present: Prelude and Allegro Quasi Fantasia by Ernest Douglas and A Vesper Prayer by Roland Diggle. The featured performer was the legendary Alexander Schreiner, then organist at both The Mormon Tabernacle and UCLA. After Bach's Toccata and Fugue in D Minor and Ernst Harberbier's Enchanted Bells he played The Flight of the Bumble Bee prompting "an irrepressible burst of laughter and complimentary applause which called for a repetition of the number."17

The Restoration

By the late 1960s the future of the Mission Inn was in grave doubt. Then, in a groundswell of civic pride, The Friends of the Mission Inn, a non-profit support group, was founded in 1969, dedicated to preserving this time-honored monument to their community. It was saved by the combined efforts of The Friends and the far-sighted new owner, Duane Roberts, who committed the funds necessary to secure its future. In 2001 a generous bequest from the estate of Esther Klotz made possible the estimated $140,000 budget for restoring the organ. Roberts enthusiastically endorsed the project. The Friends first approached Ron Kraft, a Lutheran minister and organist, who had serviced organs in the neighborhood for nearly thirty years. But nearing retirement, he declined to assume the task, recommending instead his friend, organbuilder Ed Ballantyne.

Ballantyne (see photo, p. 17), who is also active in his family's marble and tile business, began his labor of love and then professional career in organbuilding in 1985 with the rebuilding and installation of an organ in his Mormon Church in Riverside followed by a similar project at the Ramona High School. Soon the Kimball challenge became a family affair with Ed enlisting the help of his younger brother Wendell and his son Ryan. Added to the team were Steuart Goodwin (q.v.) and Kraft. Of these men only Goodwin had been inside the Mission Inn organ and then many years earlier. When the team first entered the chamber, they encountered rain damage and a heavy layer of soot from the days when smudge pots were used to protect nearby citrus groves from cold weather. Ballantyne recalls: "We'd come out of there looking like coal miners."18

The goal of the two-year project was to return the instrument to its 1911 Kimball profile and update the specification within that paradigm as space and funds permitted (see stoplist). The Kimball windchest action was replaced with Peterson valves and the console rewired with Matters solid-state switching. The twelve-note extension chests on the Swell and Choir were discarded. Experience has shown that extension chests, connected with the main chest by tubing, result in unsteady wind and tuning problems. The Clarinet was returned to the Great division and the French Horn not reused. The Kilgen unit flute, never satisfactory, was eliminated as were the harp and chimes whose actions were defunct. The new individual valves on the windchests afforded unification options enabling Wendell Ballantyne, who figured importantly in the tonal work, to program the Second Diapason, Twelfth, and Mixture on the Great. The unit flutes in the Swell are now composed of pipes from the 16' Bourdon and the 4' Traverse Flute, both well-positioned for tonal egress. The new harp and chimes were sampled from MIDI. A major improvement was adding an independent 4' Octave and 2' Fifteenth to the Great, both unenclosed, adjacent to the 8' Open Diapason behind the façade, resulting in a more cohesive and vibrant ensemble.19

The Rededication

In keeping with the rich traditions of the Mission Inn, it was deemed appropriate that the recital on October 25 be performed by an organist from The Mormon Tabernacle, just as in 1911 and 1931. Drs. Clay Christiansen and John Longhurst, who currently share the position, welcomed the invitation. The music they chose (see program, p. 19) was designed to match the selections played on a pipe organ in 1911 with the restored instrument evoking the nostalgia of a bygone era. Longhurst commented that when they first heard the Kimball, they heard an instrument vastly different from what they were accustomed to: the Aeolian-Skinner in The Tabernacle and the Schoenstein in the Conference Center in Salt Lake City. "I wondered how we'd ever play Bach's Toccata, but decided that if they played it in 1911 we could too."20

Christiansen explained that in 1911 organ recitals featured transcriptions of orchestral pieces, often those linked to Edwin Lemare, "The Great Lemare," whose reputation was built on this music. This was a period when organ music reached the corners of American society that did not have recourse to symphony orchestras. The pipe organ, therefore, enjoyed a very prominent place in the musical landscape of our country. "We chose transcriptions of Waltz of the Flowers and Jesse Crawford's arrangement of Rhapsody in Blue as symbolic of this era. The many delicate stops on this organ--the Clarinet on the Great, for example--suggest a quieter, slower, more refined lifestyle in contrast to the rock concert, loudspeaker sound (and noise) of urban living today."21 By using four hands, he added, --as opposed to two hands--they could have three manual colors speaking at once in addition to the pedal, as well as frequent registration changes.

The program closed with "A Perfect Day." Indeed it was!

Well, this is the end of a Perfect Day,

Near the end of a Journey, too;

But it leaves a thought that is big and strong,

With a wish that is kind and true.

For the mem'ry had painted this Perfect Day

With colors that never fade,

And we find, at the end of a Perfect Day,

The soul of a friend we've made.

For research assistance and critical comments on earlier drafts of this paper the uthor gratefully acknowledges: Ed Ballantyne, Wendell Ballantyne, Clay Christiansen, Marene Foulger, Steuart Goodwin, Frances Larkin, Laurence Leonard, Jim Lewis, John Longhurst, Manuel Rosales, Rene Sturman and R. E. Wagner.

Bradley Rule received a Bachelor of Arts in Organ Performance from the University of Tennessee, from which he graduated with high honors in 1982. From 1982 to 1988 he worked for the Andover Organ Company in Lawrence, Massachusetts, and at this firm he encountered hundreds of different kinds of mechanical-action organs.
After working nearly six years at Andover Organ Co., Mr. Rule returned to his home of East Tennessee and began business for himself. He set up shop in the old St. Luke Presbyterian Church building in New Market, Tennessee, a venerable old brick building which has served admirably as an organ building shop. Mr. Rule has built and restored organs from Alabama to Massachusetts in the years since 1988.
In addition to his lifelong pursuit of organbuilding, Bradley Rule has held various positions as organist or organist/director from 1976 until 1991, at which point his organbuilding business began to demand his undivided attention. During these years, his organist activities included playing concerts and making recordings, in addition to the usual weekly church duties.

While completing the installation of a new organ in the
Tennessee Valley Unitarian Universalist Church in late 1998, I was drawn into a
conversation between Will Dunklin, the organist, and Marian Moffett, a viol da
gamba player who is a member of a local early music ensemble. Marian indicated
an interest in acquiring a small chamber organ for her home, which would be
appropriate as a continuo instrument for early (particularly English) music.
After briefly discussing prices, both Will and myself commented that an early
American organ (pre-1860) would possess many of the tonal characteristics
required for such a use, as well as providing its own historical interest.
Besides, restoration of such an instrument would likely be quite economical
compared to the price of a new organ.

After checking with the Organ Clearing House, we found
nothing small enough for such a use, and the matter got shelved in the back of
my mind. About a year later, I received a message from Marian that Will had
found a small American chamber organ on eBay, for sale by a doctor in Michigan.
After some negotiation, she purchased the organ and went with Will in a rented
van, returning two days later with said instrument. In such a serendipitous
series of events, then, did this enigmatic and charming little instrument fall
into my hands for the purpose of restoration.

Provenance

Establishing the provenance of the instrument was the first
item of interest; since the organ sat in the shop for a year before work could
commence, it gave me some time to pursue the subject. Alas, despite our efforts,
the little instrument still remains anonymous. The following, however, are some
of the identifying characteristics pertinent to its provenance.

The cabinet holds a number of clues, which help us make some
general conclusions. The cabinet (as well as the chest and internal framework)
is made of eastern white pine, with a smattering of cherry and black walnut.
This clearly identifies it as an American-made instrument. The Empire case,
with its ubiquitous crotch mahogany veneer and late Empire styling, seems to
place it between about 1845-1855. According to Barbara Owen, the cabinet looks
like the work of early Connecticut builders. This dovetails nicely with the
oral history we received from the previous owner, who had been told that the
organ was built for the Lockwood family of Norwalk, Connecticut. Apart from
these general observations, the cabinet holds another clue: the ripple
moldings, which appear in several shapes and sizes. According to an article by
Carlyle Lynch in the magazine Fine Woodworking (May/June 1986, pp. 62-64), such
molding was made by only one company in America, the Jonathan Clark Brown clock
company in Bristol, Connecticut. This company made the gew gaw covered clocks
known as steeple clocks, but after the factory burned in 1853, J. C. Brown
clocks no longer were made with the unique ripple moldings. Such moldings
require an elaborate, slow-moving machine for their manufacture, and the
machine was evidently never rebuilt. If the builder purchased his ripple
moldings from the clock company, then it is clear the instrument was built
before 1853.

The hardware found on and in the instrument provides more
tantalizing hints as to the organ's provenance. The mix of early factory-made
components with other hardware which is clearly hand-made seems to place the
organ on the very cusp of the Industrial Revolution. For instance, the lock for
the keydesk lid bears unmistakable marks of being handmade: all parts were hand
filed out of solid brass, and then fitted together with hand-threaded screws. Yet,
the hinges which occur in various places (e.g., swell pedal, main reservoir)
are all of cast iron and bear the name "Clark's Patent." While a bit
crude (they certainly are not interchangeable), they bear all the signs of
early factory production. An additional item of interest is that one leaf of
each hinge was cast around the pin while the pin was inserted into the other
leaf. This makes it impossible for the pin to ever work its way out; it also
makes it impossible to separate one leaf from the other, short of a sledge
hammer.

The most interesting piece of hardware is the square iron
roller for the swell mechanism. Clearly stamped on the bar is the word CLYDACH.
It turns out that Clydach was a Welsh ironworks established in 1793, continuing
in production until about 1858. I'm not sure what this reveals about early
American sources of iron and steel. Of course, it is possible that the builder
recycled the piece of iron from an older apparatus or structure.

Finally, even the humble wood screws give us some
information. They are a mix of the earlier blunt ended screws and the more
modern pointed screws, and all but one or two were clearly made by a machine.
This also seems to point to about 1850-1855, although I am unsure when the more
modern pointed wood screws became available. The E. & G.G. Hook organ of
1847 in Sandwich, Massachusetts, was put together entirely with blunt ended
machine-made screws, so it seems that modern wood screws came along a few years
later.

One intriguing note is written (sometimes scrawled) on
almost every piece of the instrument. The message "No. 2" can be
found on the bellows, keyboard, backboard, knee panel, etc. The inescapable
conclusion is that there must be (or must once have been) a "No. 1"
lurking out there somewhere, waiting to be discovered.

The reader is left to draw his own conclusions about the
provenance of the instrument. Clearly, the Empire style and the handmade
hardware place the instrument no later than about 1855. The wood screws fit
into the time frame of about 1850. The oral history as well as the general
design of the case place the builder in Connecticut. We were unable to find
information about "Clark's Patent" hinges, and CLYDACH presents more
an enigma than it does an answer. Perhaps a reader will recognize one of these
items and shed a bit more light on the history of this little instrument.

Restoration techniques

The following describes the techniques and materials used
for the restoration. An astute reader will occasionally see the tension which occurs
when the desire to restore the organ to its original state is not always in the
best interest of the customer. Ultimately, we did almost nothing to the
instrument which could not be easily reversed later. Additionally, we took
great care to avoid removing any original material (no pipe tops were trimmed,
and even the finish was not entirely removed).

Cabinet

Failing joints were disassembled when practical and re-glued
with hot hide glue. Other joints were simply injected with hot hide glue and
clamped for 24 hours minimum.

The reservoir and feeder assembly share a common 1"
thick horizontal board which is dadoed into the sides of the carcass. This
board was originally glued into the dados and glued and nailed to the front
rail directly above the two pedals (the self-closing swell pedal on the left,
and the single pumping pedal on the right). Mahogany crotch veneer was then
applied over the nails. Someone had previously done a very nice job of sawing
through the nails and sliding the entire assembly out the back of the
instrument in order to patch the bellows. We decided to leave this alteration,
since it is truly the only way to access the bellows for releathering. Maple
cleats were added so that the 1" board could be screwed securely to the sides
of the carcass.

Stabilizing and repairing the veneer became one of the most
time-consuming jobs. Like many Empire pieces, the crotch burl mahogany seemed
to shed little bits of veneer onto the floor every time one walked past. About
half of the veneer was no longer securely glued to the white pine below, and
the ogee-shaped front board of the folding lid was missing about 70% of its
veneer. The ogee crown molding veneer was almost entirely unglued from its
substrate, although miraculously most of the veneer was still there. The
decision was made to remove the remaining tatters of veneer from the ogee
shaped lid front and use the bits to patch veneer on the rest of the piece. The
lid front was then entirely re-veneered with book-matched mahogany crotch burl.

The crown molding presented another challenge; the veneer
was so brittle that even the slightest attempt to lift it in order to work glue
under it caused it to shatter. Clamping was difficult; since the veneer was
glued over a hand-planed ogee, the shape of the contour changed from one end to
the other, and the molding on the sides of the crown were quite different in
shape from each other and from the front. This precluded any possibility of
making precise blocks to fit the shape of the molding. The solution was finally
to inject fish glue through tiny holes in the veneer and clamp a sand-filled
Ziplock bag firmly over the area. The sand conformed perfectly to the contour
of the molding and distributed the clamping pressure evenly. The fish glue,
being a protein-based glue, was compatible with the old hot glue and adhered
well, though it required long clamping times of about 48 hours. Close
inspection reveals the pinpoint size holes through which the glue was injected,
but it seemed the least destructive way to stabilize and re-glue the very
brittle veneer.

Conservation of the finish required a careful approach.
Rather than subject the piece to the humiliation of being entirely stripped and
refinished, we decided instead to conserve what was left of the old shellac
finish. Parts of the case, such as the underside of the lid, retained the
original finish in excellent condition. Other parts had obviously been covered
with an additional layer of low quality shellac. Besides this, someone had
studiously "patched" every missing veneer chip by the application of
red-primer colored latex paint. Paint ended up on the surrounding intact veneer
as much as it did on the offending gap in the veneer. To address these multiple
problems, the course of action was as follows:

The top layer of accreted dirt and crazed finish was sanded
off using 400-grit sandpaper with paint thinner as a lubricant. This required
removing only a very thin film of finish. Then, a pad of wool and cheesecloth
was filled with shellac and applied over the remaining old shellac. This
smoothed out any remaining "alligatored" shellac. This French Polish
technique was repeated about a dozen times until the surface took on an evenly
covered appearance and began to glow. Then, at the request of the customer, the
shellac was sanded lightly and was covered with two coats of high quality
varnish for durability. On parts of the cabinet where extensive veneer patching
was required (such as the crown molding), the resulting surface was too rough
and the old finish too compromised for conservation; it was necessary to sand
the entire surface down to the bare wood. Then, colored pumice was rubbed into
the grain along with residual sanding dust and garnet shellac, after which the
usual french polish technique was used, followed by the two coats of varnish.
The orange colored garnet-lac returned the "old" color to the newly
sanded wood, making a perfect match. The results were visually stunning; the
mahogany crotch burl fairly leaps off the surface of the piece with three-dimensional
fervor. The keydesk itself is veneered with rosewood, and since the lid
evidently was always closed, the finish on the rosewood required little
attention.

The center panel of cloth was originally a very thin silk,
bright turquoise in color. We found well-preserved pieces of it under the wood
half-dummy façade pipes. Marian decided the original color was
remarkably wrong for her house (I had to agree), and chose a silk of subdued
gold instead. The turquoise silk is still under the dummies for future
reference. Behind the cloth panel is a very small swell front, with shades
which open only about 45 degrees. After listening to the instrument, we decided
that omitting the shades made the organ considerably louder, and virtually
perfect in balance to a small consort of viols. Fortunately, there is a large
well behind the crown molding which provided a perfect storage space for the
shades. Reinstalling them would be the work of a few minutes should a future
owner wish to use the organ in its completely original state.

Wind system

The bellows still had its original leather, but every square
inch of it had been secondarily covered years ago with hot glue and rubber
cloth, probably by the same party mentioned earlier who went to such lengths to
remove the bellows plate from the organ. The rubber cloth and hot glue had
ossified into a stiff, inflexible board-like structure which had caused all
bellows hinging to rip itself apart upon inflation of the reservoir; the single
large feeder suffered the same fate. The bellows and feeder were completely
releathered with hot hide glue and goatskin. The bellows and feeder boards were
rather generously filled with splits, cracks and checks; the worst were
reinforced with butterfly-type patches, and all were entirely covered with
rubber cloth to prevent leakage.

The short wooden wind line which conducts wind from the top
of the bellows plate into the chest was originally simply fitted into place by
friction, but the horizontal members of the cabinet frame did not shrink and
expand in the same direction as the vertical boards of which the wind line was
made; in summer, as the cabinet expanded and lifted the entire upper assembly
away from the bellows, the leakage must have been spectacular. The joints
around the wind line had probably received more attention over the years than
any other part of the organ. Numerous layers of patching (leather, glue, rubber
cloth) attested to the trouble which this particular design flaw had visited
upon those who chose to play the instrument in humid weather. It seemed that a
change was necessary, so four small oak cleats were attached to the narrow ends
of the wind line so that it could be screwed securely to both the bellows top
and the bottom board of the pallet box. The cleats are clearly and
intentionally not a part of the original construction.

Chest

The chest was plagued by innumerable runs, and after some
investigation, they all were found to be caused by a joint in the table. The
front five inches or so of the grid is covered with a thin (1/4") mahogany
table. The rest of the chest is covered by one large pine channel block,
13/4" thick and honeycombed with many channels. The joint between the thin
mahogany and the thick pine channel block is naturally a source of some tension;
even though no crack had opened up between the two, the mahogany had almost
imperceptibly lifted along the joint. The problem was solved by screwing down
the mahogany piece with a screw in every rib, and by gluing a piece of thin
leather in each channel to bridge the joint. Should the joint ever move again,
the flexible leather should absorb the movement and prevent leakage. All key
channels, as well as all offset channels, were poured out with sanding sealer.
Shellac could have been used, but since the work was being performed in the
humid summer weather of East Tennessee, I decided to avoid shellac because of
the tendency of its solvent (alcohol) to absorb water from the air.

The bottom of the grid was originally covered in a thick
cotton covered with much shellac. We chose to replace it with rubber cloth.
Pallets were re-covered with two layers of leather, just as they were
originally, and they were installed in the original fashion, glued with hot
glue at the tail and held down by a small pine slat nailed on by tiny cut
nails. The builder evidently thought it was necessary to provide pallet sizes
commensurate to the wind demand, so the already tiny bass pallets (43/4"
long) were made even shorter at middle C (4" long).

Key and stop action

The keys are mounted on a balance pin rail at a ratio of
roughly 2:5. Thus, the pallets open a small, but nonetheless sufficient,
amount. Under the keyboard is mounted an elegant mahogany backfall (ratio 1:1)
which pushes down on very slender (.047") brass wire stickers. The
stickers pass through the 1/4" mahogany table, which also serves as their
register, and push the pallets open. All the stickers are original and the
action is pleasing to play and surprisingly responsive; in spite of the tiny
pallets, a definite pluck can still be felt in the keys. Key bushings are wood
on round brass pins, and the keys are covered in their original ivory. The
pallet springs are brass, clearly factory-made, and were still all perfectly
regulated when I checked them. No spring varied from all the others more than
1/4 ounce. I left them unchanged. The builder solved one problem with the
keyboard in a rather clever way. Since the keyboard is so short, it is not
possible to place the usual 19th-century style lead-weighted floating thumper
rail behind the nameboard. The builder instead installed the nameboard itself
in loose dados in the stop jambs so that its felted bottom edge simply sits on
the keys, keeping them in tension and making it possible to adjust them
perfectly level. When seasonal changes occur, the nameboard itself simply rides
up and down in the dados. (Of course, since this particular nameboard has no
actual name, it must be a nameboard in name only).

The stop action would seem to need no mention, except for
the stop to the left of the keyboards. The single knob to the right pulls on
the tiny slider for the Principal 4', which leaves the knob on the left with no
job to do at all. However, the builder thoughtfully provided a slotted block so
that the knob, which does absolutely nothing, can be pulled out just like its
brother on the right. The disappointing aspect is that the Principal had its
original engraved ivory disc, but the ivory disc on the left was missing. I
glued in a blank ivory disc for appearance's sake, but I will always wonder
what the label on the dummy knob said. Perhaps it might have even been engraved
with the builder's name.

Pipework

The pipework is unusual from the start in that both ranks
are metal: a Dulciana 8' and Principal 4'. The Dulciana has the usual wooden
bass of the period: large scaled, low cut-up and quinty. No identifying marks
were found on any of the pipes, not even on the seven zinc pipes of the
Dulciana (F18-B24). Early zinc often had an embossed stamp identifying the
(often French) manufacturer. The rest of the pipework is common metal. The
wooden basses were labeled in distinctive block lettering, with pencil, very
unlike the elegant old cursive one usually sees on 19th-century pipes. (I have
seen identical lettering on one other set of New England stopped basses which
the OCH found in an 1890s organ. The pipes were basses to a chimney flute, and
the entire stop had been completely reworked and re-scaled for its second use.
Alas, these pipes were also of unknown provenance).

I can find no rhyme or reason for the varying mouth widths
and variable scales. Surely part of the reason is that the common metal
pipework betrays the hand of a somewhat inexperienced pipemaker. While in
general neatly made, the solder seams are not as smooth and perfect as one
usually sees on 19th-century American pipework. It is particularly
disconcerting to see a pinhole of light shining through from the back of the
pipe when one is looking in through the mouth. These pinholes occur where the
back seam of the body meets the back seam of the foot at the languid, and are
present on several pipes. They did not particularly affect the pipes'
performance, so I left them. It does seem likely that scales were made
deliberately small in the tenor range of both ranks simply so that pipes could
be made to fit in the very cramped quarters. The very fat stopped wood basses
take up a huge amount of space, making it necessary to cram the metal pipes
into a very small area. Both ranks increase several scales in size from tenor
to treble: the Dulciana gets four scales larger, and the Principal increases by
three. (See pipe scale chart.)

From the chart, one can see that the cut-ups are all over
the map. The Principal seems to have a fairly even increase in cut-up toward
the treble, but the Dulciana seems to follow no discernible pattern. Mouth
widths are more predictable, generally hovering between 1/4 and 2/9.

The original pitch was fairly easy to ascertain. The pipes
seemed most comfortable speaking at 21/4"; at that pressure at 70 degrees,
the pitch was about A432. Since the whole point of this project was to make the
organ useful to an early music ensemble, the decision was made to fit tuning
sleeves carefully onto the pipes, and lower the pitch as much as possible. This
is a completely reversible procedure, with the added benefit being that it did
not require tampering with the tops of the pipes at all. The organ pitch is now
A421, not as low as the A415 the early music players had hoped for, but still
low enough that the instruments can tune to it easily.

One remarkable aspect of the tuning is that the Dulciana,
which showed no real signs of having been tampered with, was almost completely
in tune with the pipes at dead length and the few errant pipes brought into
regulation. A few chords quickly revealed that the keys of C, D, F and G were
close to pure, while the remote keys (B, F#, Db) were quite out of tune. This
sparked a lively discussion with Marian about temperament, and after some
research into early music temperaments (research done entirely by Marian) we
decided to tune the organ to Erlangen comma, which yields perfect thirds
between c and e, & d and f#. This temperament dates to the 15th century,
and is particularly suited to use with viols, avoiding the tuning conflicts which
mean-tone introduces between keyboard and viols.

Playing the organ is truly like stepping back in time;
voicing from this era demands less from each pipe than our modern ears
ordinarily expect. The gentle metal trebles in conjunction with the quinty wood
bass is a quintessentially early sound; virtually no one was still building
organs with that inimitable sound by 1860. Adding the small Principal 4' to the
Dulciana is an exercise in judicious restraint more than it is an augmentation
of the sound. All in all, it is an instrument from a different time and place,
built for sensibilities and perceptions unique to its milieu. Other than
changing the pitch, we did nothing to the instrument to make it more relevant
or modern. It so happens that leaving things as they were makes the organ
almost perfect for the customer's use. The subtle tone and slightly unsteady
wind work almost seamlessly with a small consort of viols da gamba. Placing the
instrument in a small room brings the sound into context, and music begins to
make sense on it. It is truly a chamber organ, and is at home in that
environment.     

The author wishes to thank Barbara Owen for her gracious and
invaluable assistance in seeking the origins of this instrument; Marian
Moffett, for her research on a multiplicity of subjects; and Will Dunklin, for
his generous help in bringing the organ to Tennessee as well as for insightful
advice during the project.

Pipe scale chart

Principal 4' (labeled "Pr.") TC 42 pipes

Note        Diameter
style='mso-tab-count:1'>                  Mouth
width      Ratio
of mouth width    Cut-up
style='mso-tab-count:1'>  Ratio of cut-up                       
style="mso-spacerun: yes">   Toe size

C13           41m
style='mso-tab-count:1'>          29m
        .225
        7.8m
      .190
style='mso-tab-count:1'>        3.98m

C25           22.5m
style='mso-tab-count:1'>    18m         .254
style='mso-tab-count:1'>        4.5m
style='mso-tab-count:1'>      .200
style='mso-tab-count:1'>        2.99m

C37           15.8m
style='mso-tab-count:1'>    12m         .241
style='mso-tab-count:1'>        3.0m
style='mso-tab-count:1'>      .189
style='mso-tab-count:1'>        2.28m

C49          10m
style='mso-tab-count:1'>          7.2m
      .229
style='mso-tab-count:1'>        2.1m
style='mso-tab-count:1'>      .210
style='mso-tab-count:1'>        2.03m

F54            7.5m
style='mso-tab-count:1'>        6m
style='mso-tab-count:1'>            .254
        1.9m
      .253
style='mso-tab-count:1'>        1.77m

Dulciana (labeled "Dul") 54 pipes

C1              110x90m
                90m
                                21.8m
  .242

C13          64x52
  52m                                 11.2m
  .215

E17          55x43
  43m                                 10m
        .232

F18           58m
        45m
style='mso-tab-count:1'>          .246
        11.8m
  .203         6.09m

C25          42.7m
  31m         .231
style='mso-tab-count:1'>        7.5m
style='mso-tab-count:1'>      .175
style='mso-tab-count:1'>        5m

C37          27.5m
  21m         .243
style='mso-tab-count:1'>        3.9m
style='mso-tab-count:1'>      .141
style='mso-tab-count:1'>        3.04m

C49          17m
        13.1m
  .245         3.4m
style='mso-tab-count:1'>        .200
style='mso-tab-count:1'>        2.71m

F54           13.5m
  10m         .235
style='mso-tab-count:1'>        2.5m
style='mso-tab-count:1'>      .185
style='mso-tab-count:1'>        2.38m

The ratio of the mouth width is in relation to the
circumference: .250 would be 1/4 mw and so on. The ratio of the cut-up is a
simple ratio of the diameter.