Erben Organ Restoration, Huguenot Church, Charleston, SC Knowlton Organ Company

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.

One of the most famous organbuilding "schools" in Italy was founded in Venice during the first part of the eighteenth century by Pietro Nacchini, a monk from Dalmatia.1 He established a factory and built over 300 organs mainly for the territories of the Republic of Venice,2 and for the Vatican State, which at the time comprised the largest portion of central Italy.  Although his designated successor was Francesco Dacci, with no doubt his most famous pupil was Gaetano Callido, born in Este, near Padova, who established his own organ factory in Venice and built well over 430 organs during his lifetime,3 some of which were for very distant countries.4

In manufacturing his instruments Callido basically followed the style of Nacchini, with only a few changes, both from the standpoint of tonal composition and type of construction. He conceived an organ as a one-manual instrument, with a limited pedal division. This is confirmed by the fact that in the original list of his works5 the relatively few two-manual instruments were designated as "double organs" and were given two consecutive opus numbers.

Callido's organs were by no means all alike, but their size was dependent upon the presence or absence of certain stops, all chosen among a limited pallet of stops from which the builder never departed.6 By giving the tonal composition of the Great division of the largest organ by Gaetano Callido, built for the Cathedral of Feltre,7 a good picture of his "selection" of organ stops is given.

The first part of the list includes all Principal-scaled ranks that form the "Ripieno". The stops can be used separately in various combinations or all together, collectively activated by a "Tiratutti" consisting of a rotating handle placed on top of the corresponding stop knobs.

Principale                (8')8 almost invariably divided, bass and treble

Ottava  (4')

Quinta Decima                        (XV - 2')

Decima Nona                           (XIX - 11/3')

Vigesima Seconda             (XXII - 1')

Vigesima Sesta                       (XXVI - 2/3')

Vigesima Nona                       (XXIX - 1/2')

Trigesima Terza                    (XXXIII - 1/3')

Trigesima Sesta                     (XXXVI - 1/4')

The last two ranks are often missing in the smaller instruments and are of full compass only in the larger organs, being normally limited to one or two octaves in the bass. The reason for limiting their compass is quite simple: since the highest pitched pipe in the ripieno of a Callido organ is C at 1/8', all ranks break back by one octave once they reach this limit. By doing so the "mixture" composition appears as in Table 1 (as an example I am considering a four-octave keyboard compass, C1 to C5).9

With this configuration, which is common to the majority of Italian historical organs (although the "breaking-back" points may vary at times), a number of pitch duplications are present from mid-keyboard up, to the point that, starting at F#4, only two different pitches are present while playing five pipes. In order not to extend the duplication of pitches towards the lower register and to avoid increasing the number of duplications at the treble, Callido normally ended the XXXIII and XXXVI ranks at the point where they would start breaking back (at F2 and C2 respectively) or further up the scale only by a few notes.

The "registri da concerto" or "consort" stops, as Callido called them, follow. First the flute scaled stops:

Flauto in Ottava (Flute in VIII - 4') often, but not always, divided, bass and treble. Normally built as a tapered flute, it is also found in the form of a metal stopped flute (with stoppers or caps made of leather-coated cork and inserted into the resonators of the pipes) or even as metal chimney flutes, with soldered-on caps.10

Flauto in Duodecima (Flute in XII - 22/3'), normally not divided in bass and treble (but it is divided for example in the Feltre organ). It was normally built as a tapered flute, although some examples of stopped pipes at the lower register and tapered at the treble do exist.

Cornetta (Flute in XVII - 13/5') - treble only, consisting of tapered flute pipes.

Voce Umana (principal-scaled, 8', treble only, tuned flat)

and finally the reeds:

Tromboncini      (trumpet-like regal at 8') bass and treble

Violoncelli (regal with wooden resonators - 8') bass and treble

Another "consort" stop, not present in the Feltre organ but rather common in Callido's instruments, is the Violetta, usually in the bass only, but also as a complete stop, especially in the later instruments. It is a 4' string stop of narrow cylindrical scale, tuned to the unison.

The Pedal division includes, in the Feltre organ, the following stops:

Contrabassi, Ottava di Contrabassi and Duodecima di Contrabassi.  These are three ranks of open wooden pipes at 16', 8' and 51/3' pitch respectively, which are activated simultaneously. In smaller organs only the first two (16' + 8') are present, or just the 16'. In the smaller instruments the 16' pipes are often found as stopped.

Tromboni ai Pedali (a trumpet-like reed, with 1/2 length resonators at 8' pitch)

Of particular interest are the reed stops, for their unusual shape and sound. The resonators of the Tromboncini are made of tin and consist of a lower four-sided portion and a "bell" on top. Their four-sided lead sockets are inserted into walnut boots. The tuning wires are made of brass, with cow horn sledges to facilitate the sliding over the tongues for tuning. The stop at low C (8' pitch) is of 1/8 length, the resonator approximately one foot long.

The Violoncello is even more unusual and complicated. Its resonators are made of cypress wood in the form of a stopped wooden pipe, the stoppers or caps being made of boxwood. The shallots are also made of hand carved boxwood, while the tuning wires, which go through the resonators and their caps on top, are equipped with cow-horn sledges. Unlike the sound of the Tromboncini, rather "biting" and penetrating, the harpsicord-like sound of the Violoncello is very sweet and gentle.

For many of his instruments Callido left a series of "operational instructions" for the organist, intended to give suggestions on how to best use the organ stops in combinations. Several of them, if strictly followed, show us how different the musical taste of the time was from the present. For example, under the title "Elevazione," or stops to be used during Consecration, for opus # 10 Callido specifies: Principale, Voce Umana, Contrabassi . . . and Tromboni! Not the type of pedal combination that we would consider appropriate for quiet meditation. And under the title "Corni da caccia," or sound to simulate the hunting horns, he suggests: Principale, Contrabassi, full ripieno (tiratutti), Tromboncini and . . . Voce Umana! An off-unison stop used along with the ripieno! (Opus # 5, 7, 9, 12, with the addition of the pedal Tromboni in opus # 10). Other combinations of stops are closer to what a contemporary organist would choose to do.

From the standpoint of construction, the instruments built by Callido are of unsurpassed quality. Each pipe is a true masterpiece, with thin, regular, absolutely perfect solder joints. The windchests and all other parts are manufactured with the highest attention for details. Callido was quite obviously trained in a very strict way and demanded the same perfection from his workers.

The contracts with his customers contain a very meticulous description of materials: pure tin for the façade pipes "without any alloy"11; "the rest of the internal pipes made of lead with a 20% alloy of tin."12 And he goes into detail to the point of stating that "the Contrabassi will be manufactured with spruce and painted inside and outside, and will be made of walnut at the mouth . . . " and also "the windchests will be made with walnut from Feltre13 . . . with metal parts made of brass."

It is certainly worth examining in closer detail some of the manufacturing characteristics of Callido's instruments. I will try to do so by describing the most significant components of the instrument in as much detail as it is possible within the reasonable length of a magazine article.

The keyboards

The most common compass of Callido's keyboards was C1-C5, for a total of 45 keys (with first "short" octave)14 or C1-D5, for a total of 47 keys. For the organs featuring the "counter" octave the compass consisted of four complete octaves, plus an extension at the bass consisting of a short octave, real from F1 as in the case of the Feltre Cathedral organ, whose Great manual has a total of 57 keys. When two keyboards were present, the Great Organ division keyboard was always placed on top and the coupling of manuals (Positiv to Great) was made possible by sliding the Great keyboard towards the back by a very short distance (drawer-type coupling, as it is often called in Italy).

The natural keys were normally covered with boxwood and the sharps were made of walnut painted black, capped with a strip of ebony, simple or with boxwood or bone inlays.

The "breaking point" between bass and treble was normally located between the notes C#3 and D3, except for the instruments featuring the "counter-octave," where it was placed between notes A2 and Bb2 .

The total width of a full octave was practically constant at 167 mm and the length of the keys was considerably smaller than in today's keyboards: 71 mm for the sharps and only 39 mm for the front portion of the naturals.

The pedalboard

It was always made with short, parallel and tilted pedals, common to the vast majority of historical pedalboards in Italy. It featured a first short octave and was always permanently connected to the corresponding keys of the manuals (of the Great, when two manuals were present). Its compass was of 17 notes, C1 to G#2, plus a pedal for the "Rollante," or drum, a device simultaneously activating a number of harmonically unrelated wooden pipes, thus reproducing the sound effect of the rolling of a drum. The compass of the pedal division in essence consisted of a full octave, since the notes of the second octave activated the corresponding pipes of the first.

The pipes

The façade pipes were made of pure or almost pure tin and all internal metal pipes were made of a tin/lead alloy with high lead content (about 80 to 85%). The metal was not poured on the table over cloth or marble, but over sand, and then planed by hand. Both the inside and the outside surfaces of the pipe resonators were made perfectly smooth. For the smaller internal pipes a laminating machine was used to roll cast metal into thinner sheets.

Since a few Callido organs, especially in the former territory of the Vatican State, have been found almost intact,15 it has been possible to identify not only the voicing parameters used by the builder but also, in some instances, the original tuning temperaments and wind pressures.

The flue metal stops were invariably voiced with some kind of wind control at the toe. Toe openings were generous, but the voicing could not be defined of the "open toe" type. Consequently, the flue was rather wide and this determined the need for nicking of the languids in order to avoid an excessive transient at the attack, which was obviously considered not desirable in 1700s Venice. Languids were nicked all the way to the smallest pipe in the ripieno ranks, but the nicks, although numerous, were very lightly marked and in some cases almost invisible. This created a precise, clean attack and still a clear and beautiful sound. This voicing practice has one exception: the languids of the Viola pipes were left totally unnicked. And no tonal bridges or beards, which were unknown to the Venetian tradition of the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, were used. Consequently, their sound features a very prominent transient at the start, intended to simulate the "noise" produced by the bow of the orchestral Viola when hitting the strings.

The low wind pressure was also a determining factor for obtaining a rich, unforced sound. It was usually set between 48 and 55 mm at the water column, with only a few verified examples of slightly higher pressure.16

Tuning was strictly done by cutting the pipes to length and adjusting with the cone, except for the façade pipes, which were cut close to length and subsequently fine tuned by further carving the back of the resonator at the top in a curved shape. These cuts are called "lunette", or moon-shaped cuts by Italian organbuilders.

Wooden pipes were always made of spruce, painted with a composition of light hot glue and red clay powder, with lower lip and upper lip made of walnut. The lower lip "cover" was fastened with hand-made iron screws. At 16' pitch these pipes could be stopped or open, depending on the size of the instrument. All open pipes were tuned with the cut-to-length method, with an occasional end correction made by applying small pieces of lead sheet or wood on top of the resonator to "shade" the note.

The windchests

The builder exclusively used the conventional slider chests, with table, top boards and sliders made of walnut. The sliders were all built parallel and of constant thickness.17 They always worked "wood-on-wood," without any form of leather seal or any other device intended to avoid the sticking of sliders. This of course required the use of high quality materials, but also a very clever choice of manufacturing techniques. It must be said, from this standpoint, that the "table" or the portion of the chest located under the sliders, which includes the note channels, was made of a solid board of walnut, 40 to 45 mm thick, on which the note channels were carved. This procedure is quite common in historical Italian slider chest construction, and differs substantially from techniques used at the time in northern Europe. Carving out channels from a single piece requires much more work than building a frame and creating the channels by means of inserting dividers, but this technique has a number of advantages. First, and most important, the whole unit is made from the same piece of wood, and this avoids warping and cracking due to contrasting tensions from different pieces of material. Also, the risk of air bleeding between note channels caused by an imperfect gluing of the different elements (table and dividers) is totally avoided, since gluing is not necessary, the elements being built from the same piece of wood. But since no tree would be wide enough to form a windchest table all in one piece, several portions were joined together for the purpose, with alternating direction of the grain in order to compensate for the tendency of warping all in one direction.18

The channels were always of generous size in order to provide adequate supply of air.19 Wooden dividers were placed inside the channels to avoid interference and wind supply instability between the larger pipes of the façade and the reed stops, which were invariably placed in front of the façade, exposed to facilitate tuning by the organist. The pallets were always made of light, straight-grain spruce from the Alps. Their seal consisted of a double layer of sheepskin leather, and the surface on which they rested was also covered by leather. This provided a very effective seal for the wind and apparently did not affect in any way the precision and sensitivity of the tracker action.

The Pedal division consists of only one windchest, located at the back of the organ case. The stop knobs for the Contrabassi pipes open or close a large valve located inside the windline, which controls the air flow to the chest. The reed, when present, is activated by a slider. In practical terms this means that the Tromboni cannot be played separately from the Contrabassi, because the Contrabassi stop knobs, and consequently the air valve, must be open to feed the whole windchest.

The mechanical action

Callido always used the suspended action, which is the simplest and most direct mechanical transmission mechanism. When a Positiv divison was present, always located at the left side of the keyboards, the corresponding keyboard worked in the same fashion, except that the keys is this case pushed down the trackers istead of pulling them.20

The rollerboards for the manual divisions, for the stop action and for the pedal, were made with forged iron rollers fastened to spruce boards by means of brass wire. The "swords" pulling the windchest sliders were also made of forged iron.

The winding system

The most common winding configuration in Callido organs includes two multiple-fold bellows (consisting of five folds) made entirely of spruce wood. They were normally placed one on top of the other and were activated by ropes through a system of pulleys. Their size was rather standardized: larger size bellows were used for the larger instruments, and smaller size for instruments requiring less wind.

Restorations are conducted in such a way that the original winding system is always preserved and carefully restored and, where not present, in many instances built new as a replica of the old.21 A modern blower is usually connected to the system, in such a way however as to keep the hand pumping system operational. This makes it possible to make a very interesting comparison between the original wind supply, slightly irregular due to the small but detectable differences in pressure caused by the manual pulling of the reservoirs, and the more stable supply furnished by the blower. "Flexible winding" as it is referred to today is a different matter: it has to do with the response of the wind and, in practical terms, the drop in wind pressure at the use of certain combinations of stops or notes. From this standpoint, although the phenomena of the so-called "flexible" wind is present in Callido organs, the design of the wind supply system, starting from the size of the bellows all the way to the generous dimensions of the windchest channels, indicates that Callido was trying to avoid instability in the wind supply.

The tuning system

As far as we know Callido never used equal temperament, already present in other parts of Europe at the time. Already well known for a few centuries, it was considered uninteresting and not desirable, especially due to the unpleasant "wide" tierce intervals which are present even in the most commonly used keys. An interesting statement on this subject is given by Giordano Riccati.22 In his book, "Le leggi del Contrappunto" written in 1754, he states: "Practically speaking, I have never been able to find an organ or an harpsichord tuned with the equal 12 semitones." In 1780 and 1790 he stated the same concepts again. But equal temperament continued to be rejected in Italy well into the 19th century. Giovan Battista de Lorenzi, a very ingenious builder from Vicenza, in 1870 created a "moderate temperament" which, although very close to equal, was intended to reduce the "out of tune" effect of the most used tierce intervals.

We know that Callido's master, Pietro Nacchini, for some of his works used a tuning method which consisted in tuning the 11 quint intervals from Eb to G# flat by 1/6 comma each, a method which was very close to the practice of Gottfried Silbermann.24 Callido may also have used this method, but he departed from it at some point and he adopted a variety of similar systems,25 among which the temperament invented by Francescantonio Vallotti, Music Director at the Basilica of St. Anthony in Padova, and Alessandro Barca in 1779, which avoided the wide G#-Eb interval, making it almost pure.26

A unique example of a non-codified temperament comes from the organ built by Callido's sons Antonio and Agostino in 1813 (the year of Gaetano's death at age 86) for the Parish Church of Tai di Cadore (Belluno). This instrument was restored by Fratelli Ruffatti in 1980-81. Prior to restoration, the pipes were found in almost perfect condition, due to the fact that the organ had been left untouched early in its history when the access stairway to the balcony was removed. After cleaning, the pipes were  almost in tune and it was relatively easy to identify and restore a type of unequal temperament which did not follow codified methods and which represented one of the many "variations" introduced by the tuners at the time for a "sensitive" tuning of the instruments.27

The tonal ideals and manufacturing techniques of the Callido factory were carried on, primarily in the Veneto and Marche regions, by a number of organbuilders: in Venice by Giacomo Bazzani, a former worker in his shop, and by his successors; in Padova and its province, among others, by Gregorio Malvestio, a priest (1760-1845), by his nephew Domenico, by Domenico's son Giuseppe and grandson Domenico. The closing down of this shop originated the beginning of the Ruffatti firm.28

In the Marche region Callido had a number of followers including Vincenzo Montecucchi from Ancona, Sebastiano Vici (Montecarotto, 1755-about 1830), Vincenzo Paci (Ascoli Piceno, 1811-1886) and others, who in some cases produced organs so close to Callido's techniques that sometimes their identification as non-Callido instruments requires an expert examination.29                   

Notes

                        1.                  His real name was Peter Nakic, born in Bulic, near Skradin, north of Sibenik, in present Croatia, a former territory of the Republic of Venice. As was customary during the time, his name was "Italianized" and became Pietro Nacchini.

                        2.                  The Republic of Venice during the eight-eenth century was a large State, including parts of Slovenja and Croatia and the present Italian regions of Veneto, Friuli Venezia Giulia and eastern portions of Lombardy.

                        3.                  See Studi e Documenti di Storia Organaria Veneta by Renato Lunelli. Ed. Olschki, Florence, 1973, and also Gli organi di Callido nelle Marche by Ferrante--Quarchioni, Ed Villa Maina, 1989.

                        4.                  Opus numbers 13, 185 and 393 were built for churches in Istambul and opus number 424 for Izmir, Turkey.

                        5.                  The original list or catalogue of organs built by Gaetano Callido survives. It consists of three panels made of canvas on which the opus number, year of construction and location of the instruments were marked in India ink by the builder. Although water damage washed away the names of 88 of his instruments, between the years 1789-91 and 1794-98, it still gives accurate information about 342 organs manufactured in his factory. The last opus number is 430, built in 1806, after which the list was discontinued. In recent years many of the "lost" instruments have been identified.

                        6.                  Only at the turn of the nineteenth century, when Callido's sons Antonio and Agostino were active in the factory, a limited number of "variations" were introduced, in the form of new reed stops (but still of the commonly used "regal" type) and flutes. Times were changing in Italy and a more "orchestral" style of sound, requiring highly characterized solo stops, was being introduced in churches, in the wave of the predominant influence of opera even in the music composed for organ.

                        7.                  This exceptional instrument, built in 1767 (opus numbers 37 and 38) and restored in 1979-80 by Fratelli Ruffatti of Padova, is practically equal in size to another organ, built for the Parish church of Candide (Belluno).

                        8.                  The Great keyboard of the Feltre organ is extended by one octave at the bass . This "counter-octave" as it is commonly called, consists of a short octave (C-D-E-F-G-A-Bb-B) of which only the notes from F up are real, the preceding ones activating the corresponding notes of the higher octave. In essence therefore the Principal starts in this case at 12'F, the Octave at 6', the Fifteenth at 3', etc.

                        9.                  This is the normal system used in Italy to designate not the pitch but the position on the keyboard. F3 for instance designates the note F of the third octave of the keyboard.

                        10.              Due to the absence of the "beards," which makes tuning adjustments possible when the caps are soldered, it is quite obvious that Callido must have had a very precise scale for cutting the resonators of these flutes to length before soldering the caps. Minimal tuning adjustments were however still possible through cone tuning of the chimneys.

                        11.              i.e.,  without the addition of lead, as reported in the specifications for the new organ to be built for the Madonna della Salute Church in Venice, dated September 19, 1776.

                        12.              Same, as above. In other contracts he chooses different alloy compositions for the internal pipes, as in the case of the contract with the Parish Church of Borgo Valsugana, November 8, 1780, where a 15% tin content is specified.

                        13.              The walnut from Feltre (Belluno) was traditionally of the highest quality, dense, dark and almost redish in colour.

                       14.              The short octave, or "broken" octave as it is often called in Italy, consists of 8 keys: C-D-E-F-G-A-Bb-B. The key arrangement is different from normal: basically, it looks like an octave starting from note E, where E plays C, F# plays D, G# plays E and all other notes are in the right place.

                        15.              This is the case of the organ in the convent Church of S. Anna in Corinaldo (Ancona), where Callido's daughter was a nun. The instrument, which is presently under restoration at the Fratelli Ruffatti shop, was found in remarkably good condition, still with the original hand-pumped bellows in good working condition. Since Callido was rightfully considered a master, his work was highly respected over the years by other organbuilders and for this reason the voicing of his instruments was often never altered in spite of the changes in musical taste.

                        16.              It is the case of the Callido organ at the Chiesa della Croce in Senigallia (Ancona), restored by Fratelli Ruffatti in 1993, where the original hinged bellows and their carved stone weights were found. Probably due to the unusually dry acoustics of the church, whose walls and ceiling are literally covered with elaborate wood ornaments and canvas paintings, the pressure was originally set at 60mm at the water column. Another example is the Callido opus 69, 1771 in the church of the Agostinian Fathers, Civitanova Marche. The instrument, restored in 1987 by Pier Paolo Donati, shows an original wind pressure of 64 mm (information courtesy of Dr. Massimo Nigi, honorary Inspector for the "Soprintendenza per i Beni Artistici e Storici" of Florence, a governmental agency in charge of supervising the preservation of Italian ancient works of art).

                        17.              This is not an obvious observation, since a great number of slider chests built in the 17th and 18th centuries in central and southern Italy were built with sliders non-parallel and of decreasing thickness. This feature was intended to avoid the sticking of the sliders. When in the "on" position, the sliders were pushed in and no space was left between the sliders and the other wooden surfaces; on the contrary, when pulled out (stop in the "off" position) the sliders, due to the decreasing thickness and width, could move freely.

                        18.              One might say that, during Callido's time, the problem of artificial heating of churches did not exist, thus making this procedure possible. It is to be noted on this subject that the very high number of strictly philological restorations on these organs by Fratelli Ruffatti and other restorers in Italy, performed without the introduction of any non-original elements for the sealing of the sliders, proves that the original system of windchest construction well withstands changes in heat and humidity level of the air.

                        19.              For a scale drawing of a Callido windchest see L'Organo Callido della Cattedrale di Feltre by Oscar Mischiati. Ed. Pàtron, Bologna, 1981.

                        20.              In this case the key pushes down a wooden tracker which in turn pushes down the rollerboard tracker placed under the keyboard. At the opposite end of the roller the pallet is pulled open by means of a brass wire.

                        21.              In some cases, where the original bellows were replaced in the nineteenth century by the more "modern" multi-fold parallel bellow with pumps, activated by means of a wooden lever or a wheel, the local governmental authorities designated to supervise the preservation of ancient instruments may choose not to have the system rebuilt as a replica of the original but to keep the already "historical" substitute.

                        22.              Born in Castelfranco Veneto (Padova) in 1709, he studied at the University of Padova and became a famous mathematician, architect, expert in hydraulics and music. He was the author of an interesting temperament, which became famous at the time, used by many organbuilders especially in the Venetian area. It was surely used in his later works by Nacchini and possibly by Callido as well.

                        23.              See Patrizio Barbieri, Acustica Accordatura e Temperamento nell'Illuminismo Veneto, Ed Torre d'Orfeo, Roma 1987.

                        24.              See Patrizio Barbieri, Acustica Accordatura e Temperamento nell'Illuminismo Veneto, Ed Torre d'Orfeo, Roma 1987.

                        25.              The result of studies conducted during restorations show that a variety of similar temperaments, which can be defined as variations of the above Riccati and Vallotti temperaments, were used in normal practice.

                        26. The Vallotti temperament in the slightly corrected version by the contribution of Barca, was intended to simplify the Riccati, and consists of a series of six consecutive quint intervals, from F-C to E-B tuned flat by 1/6 comma, and the six remaining quint intervals practically pure (flat by an imperceptible 1/66 comma). The value in cents of semitones of its quint and tierce intervals follow:

Quint intervals cents

F - C        698.4                              C - G      698.4      G - D      698.1                              D - A      698.6                              A - E       698.4                              E - B       698.4                              B - F#    701.7                              F# - C#                        701.5                              C# - G#                      701.6                              Ab - Eb                       701.7                              Eb - Bb                       701.6                              Bb - F    701.6                                                     

Tierce intervals                      cents      

C - E       393.5

F - A       393.5

G - B      393.5

Bb - D  396.5

D - F#   397.1

A - C#  400

Eb - G   400

E - G#   403.2

Ab - C  403.3

F# - A#                       406.4

Db - F   406.5

B - D#  406.5

Keeping in mind that the value of the pure quint is 702 cts and the value of the quint in the equal temperament is 700 (narrow by 2 cts), by analysing the quint intervals of this temperament it is easy to see that they are basically divided in two categories, narrow (but more moderate than, for example, in the 1/4 comma mean tone, which shows a value of 696.5 cts.) and almost pure. As to the tierce intervals (pure tierce = 386 cts, tierce in equal temperament = 400 cts) although no pure intervals are present, five of them are "better" or more in tune than the corresponding ones in the equal temperament, and two more show the same value of 400 cts. It is also to be considered that no tierce reaches extreme values. The absence of really unusable keys and the relatively easy application in practical terms by the tuner have determined the success of this temperament during its time.

                        27.              The Tai temperament includes two "wolf" quint intervals, at the opposite ends of the "circle of quints," one wide (G#-Eb) and one narrow (A-E) and six very good tierce intervals. This system is of particular significance primarily because it shows how far from equal temperament this organ was tuned so late in Callido's history.

                        28.              See Renato Lunelli, Studi e Documenti di Storia Organaria Veneta, Ed. Leo Olschki, 1973, p. 200.

                        29.              Information about Callido's followers in the Marche region are the courtesy of Mauro Ferrante, honorary Inspector for the preservation of ancient organs in the Marche region, appointed by the "Soprintendenza per i Beni Artistici e Storici" of Urbino.

Taylor & Boody Organbuilders, Staunton, Virginia

Goshen College, Goshen, Indiana

About the organ.

Designing an organ for Rieth Hall at Goshen College was a
pleasure. The opportunity to place the organ in the traditional location, high
in the rear gallery, was ideal both visually and aurally. The form and
proportions of the hall, with its austere yet warm and inviting interior,
called the organbuilder to respond with similar clarity and restraint. The
ample height of the room suggested a plain, vertical configuration of the
instrument, on which natural light from the clerestory windows would fall
gently. Everything about the hall spoke of its solid construction and honesty
of materials, qualities that we strive to reflect in our organs. Likewise the
acoustical properties of the hall, so warm and reverberant and at the same time
intimate and clear, allowed the organ’s tone to develop freely without
being forced. The result is an endearing musical instrument that is
aesthetically inseparable from the space in which it stands.

Initial inspiration for the Goshen case came from the organ
built by David Tannenberg in 1774 for Trinity Lutheran Church in Lancaster,
Pennsylvania. While only the case and façade pipes of that lovely
instrument have survived, they constitute the finest example we have in our
country of south German case architecture from the 18th century.
Tannenberg’s use of the double impost, with its Oberwerk division
gracefully placed as a reflection of the Hauptwerk below, was typical of organs
in his native Saxony and Thuringia. Other exterior influences from that time
and place include the two swags that bracket the center tower, and the broad
lower case that supports the full width of the impost and omits the spandrels
common to earlier styles. Apart from its simple springboard moldings, the
Goshen case is relatively flat and plain by comparison with its historical
counterparts. Its only bold three-dimensional element is the polygonal center
tower. The small pointed towers in Tannenberg’s design are here merely
implied by the V-shaped arrangement of foot lengths in the tenor fields. The
use of six auxiliary panels to raise the smaller pipe feet above the impost
moldings adds interest to the design. The considerable height of the lower case
was determined by the need for a passageway over the 2-foot concrete riser
behind the organ. This height gave space between the console and impost for the
eventual inclusion of a small Brustwerk with several stops for continuo
accompaniment. Cabinets for music storage are built into the back on both sides
of the lower case.

Another aspect of the design reminiscent of 18th-century
south German traditions is the position of the windchests in relation to the
action. The two windchests of the Hauptwerk are spaced apart from the center of
the case by the width of the keyboards. This leaves room for trackers of the
Oberwerk to reach their rollerboard without blocking access to the Hauptwerk
action and its pallets. It also provides optimum space for 8’ bass pipes
at the sides and leaves room for tuning the tenor pipes of the Hauptwerk with
only minimal obstruction by the Oberwerk rollerboard. The windchests for the
Pedal are located behind the case at the level of the impost, a placement that
Tannenberg could also have used.

Both the playing action and stop action are mechanical. The
manual keys are hinged at the tail and suspended from their trackers. There are
no thumper rails to hold the keys down, so they are free to overshoot slightly
when released, as is the case in traditional suspended actions. Trackers,
squares and rollers are all made of wood. There is no felt in the action. Keys
are guided by pins at the sides. Together these details combine to give a
feeling of buoyancy and liveliness reminiscent of antique instruments. The aim
is not so much to provide a light action as to arrive at one having the mass
and friction appropriate to the size and character of the organ. Such an action
may need occasional minor adjustment of key levels with changes in humidity,
but this is a small price to pay for the advantages gained over more sterile
modern alternatives. 

Wind is supplied by two single-fold wedge bellows (3’ x
6’) fed by a blower located in a small room below the organ. Natural
fluctuations of the wind pressure in response to the playing contribute to the
lively, singing quality of the organ’s sound. A wind stabilizer can be
engaged when unusually heavy demands on the wind system call for damping of
these fluctuations. The organ’s single tremulant is made in the old-fashioned
beater form. On seeing a tremulant puffing away in one of our organs, a
Japanese friend remarked that the organ was laughing! It is useful to think of
an organ’s wind as its breath and the bellows as lungs, for the
instrument’s appeal is closely tied to our perception of its lifelike
qualities. 

The tonal character of an organ is rarely revealed by its
stoplist. This is particularly true in an instrument of only twenty-four stops.
Once the builder accepts the constraints of a given style and the essential
registers have been chosen, there is usually little room or money left to
include stops that would make a modest design appear unique on paper.
Fortunately for the art, the musicality of the organ is not bound by its
stoplist; rather, it is determined by a host of other complex factors. These
can be partially defined in the technical data of pipe scaling and
construction, general design parameters, materials and the like, but in reality
much more rests on the elusive criteria of experience, skill and taste of the
builder. Taken together this means that each new organ, albeit small, presents
fresh opportunities for artistic expression. It is important that all the pipes
speak promptly, be they reeds or flues, except in the case of strings, which
gain charm from their halting speech. It is less important that the pipes
produce precisely the same vowel sounds from note to note, for here variety
adds refreshing character and interest to the organ.

At Goshen we chose to voice the 8’ Principal to be
somewhat brighter and richer in overtones than has been our wont. This was
achieved by giving the pipes lower cutups than was customary in German and
Dutch organs of the 17th century and before. The five distinctly different
8’ flue stops on the manuals deserve special mention. Although all
followed scaling patterns we have used frequently in the past, when voiced they
proved to be unusually satisfying, particularly in combination with each other.
Whenever the 16’ Bordun is used with them a magical new dimension is added
to the sound. If, for example, one draws the Bordun with the Viol da Gamba, the
effect is that of a quiet 16’ Principal. Used with the Spillpfeife the
Bordun reverts to its role as a flute. In an organ of this size it is crucial
that every stop work as well as possible with every other. Following south
German practice, both 8’ and 4’ flutes on the Hauptwerk are made in
the same form. This duplication of flutes within the same family was not the
custom in the north, where lower pitched flutes were usually stopped and those
above them progressively more open. The Oberwerk configuration at Goshen with
its two stopped 8’ registers and partially open 4’ Rohrflöte is
typical of the northern tradition. We look forward to the day that the 16’
Violonbass with its cello-like speech can be added to the Pedal.
style="mso-spacerun: yes"> 

The distinctive musical effect of the Goshen organ is
strongly colored by the use of the recently released Bach-Lehman temperament
described in the accompanying article. Because the completion of the organ in
February coincided with the publication in Early Music of Bradley
Lehman’s treatise on J. S. Bach’s temperament, we chose to tune the
organ according to his plan. Here was the ideal opportunity to try the
temperament on an organ built in Germanic style and at the same time to honor
Dr. Lehman as a distinguished Goshen alumnus for his work in this field. The
experiment has been a fascinating one. It has provided a place to hear
Bach’s organ music as we have not heard it before. We are honored to have
played a part in translating the dry mathematical numbers of this temperament
into the vibrant sound of the organ. 

With few exceptions the many parts of the organ were
constructed from raw materials in our Virginia workshop. Through the skills of
each craftsman the design moved from an idea to paper and then through raw wood
and metal into a large and impressive object. Note by note the tonal picture
has been filled in by voicing and tuning until in the end we experience a new
instrument with an identity all its own. We hope that it will give pleasure to
those who play and hear it far into the future.

--George Taylor

The organ project at Goshen College

“Dienlich, Ordentlich, Schicklich, Dauerlich”

In 1999 we were asked by the organ consultant for Goshen
College, Roseann Penner Kaufman, to make a proposal for the new Goshen College
Music Center. As with any new project, I went to Goshen full of excitement at
the promise of participating in what was to be a spectacular project. My
enthusiasm was short-lived when I saw the design for the recital hall. It was a
standard fan-shaped, sloped-floor, small college recital hall, with theatre
seats and carpet in the aisles. The space for the organ was planned in a niche
at the back of the stage. The design would have been fine for small chamber
recitals, but it was not a proper home for an organ. The prospects for the
organ looked bleak. We would not have felt productive or inspired. We always
say that the room is more than half the organ. I took a deep breath and told
the Goshen committee what I thought of the plan. The committee listened and
asked us to offer suggestions on how the recital hall might be designed to work
best with the musical programs envisioned for this space.

I returned to Staunton eager to develop a plan. One of the
first things I did was to research the Mennonite Quarterly Review for articles
describing historical Anabaptist worship spaces. I hoped that the essence of
these rooms would lead me to an aesthetic that would tie the new hall to the
old tradition, which would, in turn, also be good for music, especially the
organ. My research acquainted me with four German words used to express the
qualities of the historical spaces: dienlich, ordentlich, schicklich and
dauerlich--serviceable, orderly, fitting and lasting. I also found prints
of the interiors of some of these churches. Rectangular in shape with open
truss timber roof framing, clear glass windows, galleries on several sides,
rough stone floors, moveable chairs, unadorned, honest and powerful, these
spaces had all the qualities that I was looking for. They also had enduring
musical-acoustical qualities and so many are used today for concerts.

The simple sketch that I made went first to the Goshen organ
committee who, led by Doyle Preheim and Chris Thogersen, embraced the plan.
Then the concept went to Rick Talaske and his team of acousticians. They
transformed the plan into practical geometry and surface treatments to make the
space an acoustical success. Mathes Brierre Architects took the acoustical plan
and translated it into a visual design that evokes the warehouse or
brewery-turned-church concept of the early Dutch Mennonite spaces. Schmidt
Associates worked through the technical details with Casteel Construction to
conceive the simple pre-cast concrete panels and graceful curved steel arches
that make the hall appealing in its architecture, superior in acoustical
performance and straightforward and durable in construction. There was creative
and sensitive work done by a Goshen group concerned with decor and furnishings.
The result is successful beyond our expectations. The collaboration of all the
partners made the project exceed the ability of any one of us.

Once the hall was underway, we scheduled a meeting at St.
Thomas Fifth Avenue in New York with a group from Goshen and Calvin and Janet
High from Lancaster, Pennsylvania. We had a great day in New York showing
everyone our organ in the gallery of St. Thomas. The Highs’ enthusiasm
for the St. Thomas organ and the Goshen Music Center paved the way for their
generous gift that underwrote the cost of the organ.

We realized that the floor area of Rieth Hall was small in
relation to the height. We saw that if there could be the addition of one more
bay to the length there would be significant improvement in the proportions of
the space and at least 50 more seats could be added. Again, the Goshen design
group supported our suggestion. At a time in the project when the building
committee was attempting to control costs and squeeze performance out of every
dime, they found the funds for this most important late addition.
style="mso-spacerun: yes"> 

I predicted at the time we were creating the designs for
Rieth Hall, that the unique qualities of this space would have something to say
to the Goshen students about music and worship. This prediction has been
realized. First, there is genuine enthusiasm for a cappella singing in Rieth
Hall, encouraging this wonderful Mennonite tradition. Second, there has been a
spontaneous seizing of the space by the students for their own student-directed
Sunday worship. In this age of searching for the right path in worship and
liturgy, of debating the influence and appropriateness of mass media and
popular music for worship, we have built something at Goshen College that
reaches across the span of time to those Mennonite roots. Led by the seemingly
old-fashioned qualities of dienlich, ordentlich, schicklich and dauerlich, we
have made a  music space and organ
that inspire and excite us to make music and to celebrate and serve our God and
Creator.

Wood and the Goshen organ

The traditional pipe organ is a wooden machine. Early on in
our careers as organ builders we realized that getting control over our
materials in both an aesthetic and technical sense was essential to our success
as organ makers. Our first path was to make friends with our neighborhood
sawmillers. One of these was an octogenarian whose experience reached back to
horse logging and steam power. He taught us the value of long, slow, air-drying
of lumber. He also knew the old traditions of sawing, how to take the tension
out of a log, how to saw through the middle of the log and keep the boards in
order so that the cabinetmaker could match the grain. He remembered the methods
of quarter sawing that impart the most dimensional stability to the boards and
in oak bring out the beautiful fleck of the medullary rays. We have built our
own sawmill based on a portable band saw. For quarter sawing, we have built a
double-ended chain saw that can split logs up to 60 inches in diameter. The
half logs (or quarters in extremely large timber) are then aligned on our band
saw and sawn in a radial fashion into boards. This lumber is then air-dried for
a number of years. At the end, we put the wood in our dry kiln and gently warm
it up to stabilize the moisture content at 8% to 10%.

Oak is the traditional wood of Northern European organ
building so it was natural for us to choose white oak for the Goshen organ. We
have long admired the Dutch and German organs dating back to the 16th century.
The earliest organs show only the natural patina of age and no finish; the
concept of finishing wood as in varnishing or oiling came well into the 18th
century. We followed this earlier practice for the Goshen organ. The oak has
been hand-planed to a smooth polish, much smoother than can ordinarily be
produced with sanding. The hand-planed wood will resist dirt. We feel there are
also musical benefits from using wood in its natural state. The case and
carvings together with all the interior parts transmit sound energy and reflect
and focus the sound of the pipes. Also, the open pores and surface
imperfections of the natural wood have an effect on the sound reflection.

Another aspect of wood use in historic organs is how
efficiently the old builders utilized their wood. Before the age of machinery,
cutting, transporting and converting timber to sawn, dried lumber ready for use
was costly. The best wood was always used for the keyboards, playing action,
wind chests and pipes. The next selection went to the most visible parts of the
case, especially the front of the organ. The rest was used for carvings, heavy
structural members, walkways, bellows framework and back panels. Some of this
wood shows knots, cracks and other defects that might offend our modern sense
of perfection. However, in addition to demonstrating good wood utilization, the
varying density and differences in surface texture of these so-called defects
may indeed benefit the music. How we perceive the sound of an organ is a very
complex and subtle equation. This is one of the wonderful aspects of the real
pipe organ that differentiates it from the sterile sound of the electronic
substitute. We feel it is good stewardship to apply the hierarchy of selection
as practiced by the old masters. We try to use all the wood, through careful
selection, with thoughtful conservation of a vanishing resource.

--John Boody

Acoustic design of Rieth Recital Hall at Goshen College

In 1998, the design team of design architect Mathes Group
(now Mathes Brierre Architects), architect of record Schmidt Associates and
acoustician The Talaske Group (now Talaske) began preliminary work on a new
music education and performance building for Goshen College’s campus.
This project was the College’s greatest building investment to date and
they were determined to do things right . . . with a very modest budget. The
Recital Hall (now Rieth Recital Hall) was slated to house a new tracker organ
of exceptional quality. As acousticians, we offered some general planning
recommendations--not the least of which was a 50-foot ceiling
height--and recommended that the organ builder be hired as soon as
possible.

Enter John Boody of Taylor & Boody, organ builders from
Virginia. John energized the subsequent meetings with some profound advice that
proved to set the final direction for the space. He moved our thinking from a
“fixed” seating configuration to a flexible arrangement based on a
flat floor where seats can face either end of the room. This unique concept
facilitated the accommodation of a conventional “recital hall” or
assembly arrangement with musicians or presenters on a small stage. The cleverness
of the concept is the seats can be turned to face the opposite direction in the
room, offering a classic organ recital arrangement. Furthermore, John
recommended that the proportions of the room would be better served if
lengthened by adding another bay of structure. These fundamental planning ideas
changed the direction of the design in perpetuity.

We embraced these new directions yes">  and identified the many other room acoustics design features
that would support the client’s needs. The 50-foot ceiling height remained,
and we worked with the architects and construction manager to render the room
as a sound-reflective concrete enclosure, embellished with wood. The goal was
to maintain the warmth of sound created by the organ. Within the “theatre
planning” process, we guided and exploited naturally occurring
opportunities for introducing sound diffusing shaping to reflect low- and
mid-pitched sound in all directions--by introducing one side balcony and a
rear balcony, recesses from circulation paths and recesses created by
deeply-set windows. We recommended deliberate articulation of the walls to
diffuse mid- and high-pitched sound. Wood surfaces were detailed to minimize
absorption of low-pitched sound. Retractable velour curtains and banners were
recommended in abundance and specified by Bob Davis, theatre consultant.
Architecturally, curtain and banner pockets were created so the sound-absorbing
materials could be retracted completely on demand. These features make possible
a broad “swing” of the sound of the room from very reverberant for
choral and organ performance to articulate for assembly events or amplified
music performance. Fundamental to the acoustic design was the need for silence.
This was accomplished by structural discontinuities in the building (acoustic
isolation joints) and the proper placement and design of heating and air
conditioning systems.

Within their mission statement, Goshen College states:
“Musical expression is a human manifestation of the divine impulse and,
as such, serves as a window into the individual soul, a bridge between human
beings and a means of corporate religious experience.” In light of the
students adopting the Rieth Recital Hall for their weekly convocations and the
many other uses, we are pleased to say the happy story continues!

--Rick Talaske

Bach temperament

This organ is the first since the 18th century to use Johann
Sebastian Bach’s tuning, as notated by him in 1722 on the title page of
the Well-Tempered Clavier. This tuning method is a 2004 discovery by Bradley
Lehman. The article about this discovery is published in the February and May
2005 issues of Early Music (Oxford University Press), and further details are
at <www.larips.com&gt;.

The layout, dividing the Pythagorean comma, is:

F-C-G-D-A-E = 1/6 comma narrow 5ths;

E-B-F#-C# = pure 5ths;

C#-G#-D#-A# = 1/12 comma narrow 5ths;

A#-F = a residual wide 1/12 comma 5th.

In this tuning, every major scale and minor scale sounds
different from every other, due to the subtle differences of size among the
tones and semitones. This allows music to project a different mood or character
in each melodic and harmonic context, with a pleasing range of expressive
variety as it goes along. It builds drama into musical modulations.
style="mso-spacerun: yes"> 

The result sounds almost like equal temperament, and it similarly
allows all keys to be used without problem, but it has much more personality
and color. In scales and triads it sounds plain and gentle around C major (most
like regular 1/6 comma temperament), mellower and warmer in the flat keys such
as A-flat major (most like equal temperament), and especially bright and
exciting in the sharp keys around E major (like Pythagorean tuning, with pure
fifths). Everything is smoothly blended from these three competing systems,
emerging with an emphasis on melodic suavity.

The following chart shows the relative size of each major
third, resulting from each series of the intervening four fifths. This system
of analysis is from the 1770s, published in the theoretical work of G. A. Sorge
who was a former colleague of Bach’s. The intervals having higher numbers
sound spicier, more restless. In this measurement, a value of 11 would indicate
a major third that is one syntonic comma too sharp (a “Pythagorean major
third,” having been generated by four pure fifths).
style="mso-spacerun: yes">  A pure major third would be represented
here as 0.

Bb-D    6
style='mso-tab-count:1'>             D-F#
    7
style='mso-tab-count:1'>             F#-A#
8

Eb-G    7
style='mso-tab-count:1'>             G-B
      5
style='mso-tab-count:1'>             B-D#
   9

Ab-C    8
style='mso-tab-count:1'>             C-E
       3
style='mso-tab-count:1'>             E-G#
   10

Db-F     9
             F-A
       3
style='mso-tab-count:1'>             A-C#
   9

Equal temperament, as opposed to the variety shown here, has
a constant size of 7 in all twelve of the major thirds.

In functional harmony, the Bach tuning sets up especially
interesting contrasts within minor-key music. The key of A minor has the
plainest tonic juxtaposed with the most restless dominant. F minor, a major
third away, has the opposite relationship: troubled tonic, calm dominant. And
C# minor has the average character between these behaviors, where the tonic and
dominant are both moderately energetic. 

In major-key music, the tonics and dominants have characters
similar to one another. The sizes of major thirds change by only 1, 2, or 3
units from each key to its neighbors, moving by the circle of fifths (through
typical subdominant/tonic/dominant progressions). Any change of Affekt is
therefore gradual and subtle, as if we never really leave the home key
altogether but it feels a little more or less tense as we go along.

In any music that modulates more quickly by bypassing such a
normal circle-of-fifths cycle, the contrasts are momentarily startling. That
is, the music’s dramatic harmonic gestures become immediately noticeable,
where the major thirds have changed size suddenly from one harmony to the next.
This comes up for example in the Fantasia in G Minor (BWV 542), Gelobet seist
du, Jesu Christ (BWV 722), and the fourth Duetto (BWV 805), and especially in
music by the Bach sons.

This system turns out to be an excellent tuning solution to
play all music, both before and after Bach’s. It is moderate enough for
complete enharmonic freedom, but also unequal enough to sound directional and
exciting in the tensions and resolutions of tonal music.

A recording will be ready for release this summer, including
music by Bach, Fischer, Brahms, et al.

--Bradley Lehman

A brief history of the organ in the Mennonite Church

Some people might find it unusual to find such a remarkable
organ in a Mennonite college. Aren’t the Mennonites those folks with the
buggies and suspenders? It is true that some Mennonite congregations still take
literally founder Menno Simons’ caution against the organ as a
“worldly” invention, but most, especially in the last fifty years,
have embraced it as a vital contributor to the musical and worship life of the
community. 

The Mennonite Church has its beginnings in the 16th-century
Protestant Reformation. Because of persecution, most of the early worship
services were held secretly, in homes or out-of-the-way places. Mennonites also
believed that the true church existed in small, simple gatherings; therefore,
it was uncommon for early Mennonites to even set aside a separate building for
worship. 

Two hundred years after the beginning of the movement,
churches in Germany and the Netherlands had grown to the point of meeting in
dedicated buildings, and by the 1760s several in urban areas had installed pipe
organs. It was another two hundred years, however, before organs became common
in the Mennonite conference that supported Goshen College. Even now, the organ
is not necessarily assumed to support congregational singing, but contributes
other service music. Organ study is now offered at all of the Mennonite Church
USA-affiliated colleges, and the new Taylor & Boody organ at Goshen will
certainly have a profound impact on the future of worship and organ study
throughout the denomination.

--Roseann Penner Kaufman

Roseann Penner Kaufman, DMA, is adjunct instructor in organ
at Bethel College, N. Newton, Kansas, a four-year liberal arts college
affiliated with the Mennonite Church USA. She also serves as director of music
for Rainbow Mennonite Church in Kansas City, Kansas. Dr. Kaufman served as the
consultant to Goshen College for their organ project.

Specifications for Opus 41

Hauptwerk

16' Bordun (C-D# wood, rest metal*)

8' Principal (77% tin)

8' Spillpfeife

8' Viol da Gamba (77% tin)

4' Octave

4' Spitzflöte

3' Quinte

3' Nasat

2' Superoctave

IV-V Mixtur

8' Trompet

Oberwerk

8' Gedackt (99% lead)

8' Quintadena

4' Principal (77% tin)

4' Rohrflöte

2' Waldflöte

II Sesquialtera

IV Scharff

8' Dulcian

Pedal

16' Subbass (wood)

(16' Violonbass) space prepared

8' Octave

4' Octave

16' Posaune (C-B wood, rest 99% lead)

8' Trompet (99% lead)

Couplers

Oberwerk / Hauptwerk

Hauptwerk / Pedal

Oberwerk / Pedal

Tremulant to entire organ

Mechanical key and stop action

Compass: manual 56 notes C-g''', pedal 30 notes C-f'

Lehman-Bach temperament

Interior metal pipes of hammered alloys

*All unmarked metal alloys of 28% tin, 72% lead

Case of solid white oak

Windchests of solid oak, pine & poplar

Number of pipes: 1604

Wind pressure: 75mm

Wind stabilizer

The builders

George K. Taylor

John H. Boody

Bruce Shull

Emerson Willard

Christopher A. Bono

Kelley Blanton

Chris A. Peterson

Sarah Grove-Humphries

Robbie Lawson

Jeffrey M. Peterson

Larry J. Damico

Holly Regi

Thomas M. Karaffa

Bob Harris

Katie Masincup

Ryan M. Albashian

Kristin E. Boo

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.

Returning to the land of one's birth is a peculiar business for the expatriate. Will things have changed beyond recognition? Will those favorite places still be there? Will one still feel at home? Or uncomfortably out of step with current tastes and fashions?

In my own case, happy to tell, things seem pretty much the same since I left England. The great choirs are still great; the great hotels still serve the most wonderful afternoon tea (although, for my money, the Peninsula Hotel in Hong Kong tops them all); and the sense of history is ever pervasive.

Yes: business as usual. "Air Conditioned" still means that the management will, if required, open a door or the odd window to provide a little fresh air (not possible in some hotels, of course, where windows are painted shut); "Hot and Cold Food Served" is just as likely to be an exact description of one's entrée as a proclamation of culinary versatility; customer service, as North Americans know it, is as common a commodity as a three-dollar bill; and the coffee, English protestations notwithstanding, is the worst on planet Earth.

This article, penned at the end of a trip to England, seeks to explore some of the paths less travelled by visiting church musicians. Often, North American friends will chide me for seeing only the most popular spots when in such-and-such a city, thus missing a particularly fine choir or a notable instrument. The same might be said about England, too. There is a fascinating world beyond the horizons, however magnificent, of the famous cathedrals, choirs and organs.

Highgate: Dead Hens, Karl Marx and an Historic Restoration

Highgate lies a couple of miles north of London's city centre, yet retains much of its eighteenth-century village charm. It is a place redolent with history. Here, Sir Francis Bacon died in 1626, attempting to prove his theory that refrigeration was a better means of preserving food than salting (He caught his death of cold in the winter air while stuffing a dead fowl with snow.) The poet Coleridge lies buried in the churchyard of the elegant yet unprepossessing parish church, St. Mary's. And Highgate's famous cemetery is the last resting place for luminaries such as Michael Faraday, George Eliot, Christina Rossetti and Karl Marx. Marx's tomb, while no longer a Mecca for tourists from the former Soviet Union, still attracts a goodly number of Western visitors; his ideology, while no longer common currency in the former Soviet Union, still attracts a goodly number of Western politicians.

The United Reformed Church in Highgate's picturesque Pond Square dates from 1859, and houses an organ of especial interest. It started an eventful life around 1840 as a two-manual of some five speaking stops and, perhaps, an octave of pedals. In the early 1880s, it was enlarged to its present form of 10 speaking stops over two manuals and pedals by J.W. Walker & Sons, who also altered the manual GG compass, taking it from CC to c5.

It is possible that this instrument was built for a private residence, a far cry from its pre-Highgate location: a barn in Tamworth, some 100 miles north of London. The organ was acquired for the Pond Square Chapel by Christopher Driver, a member of the church, through the good offices of Lady Susi Jeans, Guy Oldham and William Waterhouse. Driver and Oldham removed the organ from the barn and erected it at Highgate, where it replaced an earlier instrument (Bishop 1890/Hill, Norman & Beard 1933) which had been dismantled to allow structural work in the church during the 1980s. This latter was never replaced, presumably on grounds of cost; part of the 16' Open Wood was used to fashion the large and intriguing cross which now stands at the east end of the chapel.

As may be expected after such peregrinations, the organ was in far from perfect condition when installed at Highgate. Although makeshift repairs to rectify action breakages were made at this time, an overeager heating system in the chapel did little to improve matters.

The firm of B.C. Shepherd & Son was asked to restore the organ in 1992. This company, established by B.C. Shepherd in 1927, is now operated by the late founder's two sons, John and Eric. Familiar figures on the London organ scene, they have an extensive portfolio of tuning contracts and a clutch of fine rebuilds/restorations to their credit. To these may be added the Highgate organ.

The instrument was dismantled in 1992, and the action thoroughly re-stored. The pipework was repaired and the keyboards overhauled. This latter work necessitated the making of new keys for the Great, since the old ones were severely warped and damaged. The bellows were releathered, and the organ cleaned throughout. The scrupulous tonal regulation was carried out by John and Eric Shepherd.

The mahogany casework had suffered considerable mutilation in the past, particularly on the left side. Panels from the right side were fitted on the left, thus replacing the unsightly plywood that had been screwed on to fill in the missing panels. This aspect of the work involved extensive remaking of caseframes and expert woodworking; Nick Hillman, who worked with the Shepherd brothers on this project, deserves much credit for his achievements.

The dummy front pipes are wooden, and have been painted gold by the church administrator, Donald Spencer. Unfortunately, funds to replace the case front's missing carvings were not available.

The end result? An exceptionally musical instrument which acquits itself with grace and distinction in many roles. The unforced quality of its tone is a delight, as are the various ensembles and exquisite voices. I was lucky to hear it in solo and accompanimental roles during part of a Sunday afternoon concert for voice and organ. Dr. Robert Manning, a Purcell scholar and Professor at London's Royal College of Music, is the church's Director of Music. Together with soprano Adele Stevenson, he demonstrated the organ's versatility and integrity in an eclectic yet artistically satisfying program of music from Monteverdi to Copland. An immensely civilized and pleasurable way of spending a spring afternoon!

GREAT

                        8'                Open Diapason

                        8'                Stop'd  Treble

                        8'                Stop'd Bass

                        8'                Dulciana

                        4'                Principal

                        2'                Fifteenth

SWELL

                        8'                Keraulophon

                        8'                Wald  Flute  Treb.

                        8'                Stop'd Bass

                        4'                Flute

                        8'                Oboe

PEDAL

                        16'            Bourdon

Swell to Great; Swell to Pedal; Great to Pedal

3 composition pedals to Great

Balanced Swell Pedal

Wind pressure: 23/4"

Compass: Manuals 61 notes; Pedals  29 notes (pedalboard is 30 note)

542 speaking pipes

Fleet Street: Newspapers, Bones & Wedding Cakes

Fleet Street owes its renown (or ignominy, some would aver--the noted British satirical magazine Private Eye dubbed it the "Street of Shame") to its former position as the epicentre of Britain's newspaper industry. No longer does it hum with daily press activity, since many papers have relocated eastwards to the Docklands area of London, where rents are cheaper. Nevertheless, Fleet Street still is to newspapers what Wall Street is to high finance; and that association is likely to remain for many a year to come.

On the south side of Fleet Street is one of London's great churches, St. Bride's. The present building is, in fact, the eighth to occupy this spot since the sixth century. Vestiges of the previous seven buildings, together with a Roman pavement, can be visited in the church crypts.

Samuel Pepys was baptized in the medieval (sixth) church, and his brother was interred in the crypts. By that time, Pepys recounts, things were a tad crowded down in the burial chambers. Only after bribing the gravedigger to "justle together" some bodies was the famous diarist able to procure a resting place for his late sibling.

That church perished in 1666, a victim of London's Great Fire. Its successor, one of Sir Christopher Wren's most beautiful and costly creations, was capped by the famous steeple that is said to have provided the inspiration for the world's first tiered wedding cake. The church, which witnessed the first performance of Purcell's Te Deum and Jubilate in 1692, was ravaged by a wartime bomb in 1940. The lengthy restoration that followed enabled archaeologists to examine the history of the church, back to its Roman origins. In 1957, seventeen years after that fateful 1940 evening, Wren's church, now restored, was rededicated. Fleet Street once again had its parish church.

Music plays an important part in the life of St. Bride's. In addition to the regular weekday concerts that draw appreciative audiences of tourists, local workers and musical aficionados, the church is blessed with a Director of Music, an Assistant Director of Music, an Organ Scholar and a professional choir. Besides the weekly Sunday Choral Matins and Eucharist (11:00 a.m.), the choir sings Evensong at 6:30 p.m. Twice per month, Choral Evensong features a Sermon in Music. Could not this concept of a "choral Sermon" be popularized in North America, one wonders? In places where a good choir exists (and it has to be good!), it would add an extra dimension to the service.

The Director of Music at St. Bride's is Robert Jones, the noted countertenor. When I attended Evensong, he was away; the choir was directed by his Assistant, Matthew Morley, and accompanied by the Organ Scholar, David Terry.

The mixed choir (twelve singers) provided some of the very best singing I've ever heard in a church, British or otherwise. Repertoire from Pelham Humfrey's Magnificat & Nunc Dimittis in F Minor to John Ireland's "Greater Love" and Matthew Morley's superb set of Responses (difficult, but as good as any other contemporary set in circulation) emphasised the choir's skill. The contrapuntal intricacies and harmonic twists of the Humphrey were delightfully handled, as were the various elements of the Ireland. A better performance of the latter one could not wish to hear, particularly given the occasion: D-Day Sunday. 

The conducting deserves special mention. Observe many conductors of church choirs: judging by their frenetic movements and ferocious expenditure of energy, one might easily believe the task at hand to be Mahler's Eighth, or Schoenberg's Gurrelieder, rather than a simple four-part anthem performed by a smallish  choir. Often, the director does nothing more than beat time, the choir receiving no assistance with tricky entries or dynamic shading. And, although the conductor's score may be regarded as the route map, it is not the road itself. The conductor who buries his or her eyes in the score will achieve the same results as the driver who scrutinizes the map, not the road.

Economy of gesture, allied to a pair of independent hands--the left should not duplicate the right, or vice-versa for southpaws--and a keen sense of musical shape and direction are the order of the day, together with an ability to use the eyes as an invaluable and essential means of non-verbal communication. Matthew Morley's conducting was exemplary in every way, yielding A1 results every time. Classes and courses in conducting a church choir have their uses and merits, but I am convinced that more beneficial by half is the observation of top-notch practitioners. (Much too can be learned from watching bad conducting and the commensurately inadequate results it produces!)

David Terry's accompaniments, particularly of the psalms, were fine models; decorative, colorful, yet unobtrusive, enhancing the singing rather than detracting from it. Both conductor and organist are still in their early twenties (Terry has recently gone up to Oxford on an organ scholarship), yet evince musicianship of such maturity as to belie their years. Natural talent notwithstanding, it is evident that such polished, creative music-making is the result of many, many hours of hard slog.

The organ at St. Bride's is a large 4-manual Compton, and a very fine one at that. Recent work by Michael Mason and Keith Bance (the latter, one of England's most distinguished voicers) has only added to the instrument's capabilities. It has all the necessary ingredients for doing its job well, from subtle strings and evanescent flutes to meat reed choruses and high pressure solo stops of truly industrial strength. Without hesitation, the music program at this historic church recommends itself in the highest terms. It has always been my experience that visitors, whether attending services or not, receive a warm welcome from all who work at St. Bride's. Put it on your "To Do" list for a future London trip.

Mozart: A Musical Thief?

Last summer, Alison Robertson, then an eighteen-year-old pupil at Harrogate Ladies' College, one of England's leading private schools, captured the attention of the British  press with an  unusual musical discovery.

As part of her 'A' Level music examinations1, she was compiling a comparative study of the several reconstructions of Mozart's Requiem, while simultaneously preparing for a performance of Pergolesi's Stabat Mater. (Alison was Head of Choir at Harrogate Ladies' College.) Having noticed the similarity between the  Mozart's "Amen" theme--Maunder edition2--and the "Amen" theme from Pergolesi's work, she spoke  with her school's Director of Music, David Andrews, who suggested she  write  to the  venerable Musical Times.

As Alison explains,

The "Amen" sketch for Mozart's Requiem was discovered about thirty years ago, and Maunder believes firmly that "the subject is derived by strict inversion from the main Requiem theme." In the recapitulation of his continuation Maunder "re-inverts" the "Amen" theme to stress the affinity.

In my view, this "strict inversion" only involves five bars out of the seven, and the last two bars of the "Amen" theme do not correspond with those of the "Requiem" theme. Could Maunder's assumption be wrong? Could Mozart have deliberately or unconsciously remembered Pergolesi's theme?

Thus the burning question: Did Mozart steal another composer's ideas? Pergolesi's Stabat Mater, like Mozart's Requiem, was written on the composer's deathbed, predating the latter by over half a century. Mozart would undoubtedly have known the Pergolesi, since it was the most frequently printed single work in the eighteenth century. (As a further coincidence, Alison notes, Pergolesi's "Amen' was used in the film Amadeus.)

She believes the most plausible verdict is that Mozart is guilty of unconscious borrowing rather than deliberate plagiarism. The question of copyright and intellectual property was less hotly disputed in the eighteenth century, with many composers feeling at liberty to borrow here and there from the music of others.

It certainly is a refreshing change to see something positive in the newspapers, especially when the person making the news is still in their teens. Furthermore, this story does give the lie to the wacky theories of those pointy-headed "experts" who howl that exposure to classical music (and other such unconscionable, elitist cultural evils) will turn teenagers into wicked, antisocial psychopaths.

By the time you read this, Alison Robertson will have embarked upon her studies towards a music degree. Let's hope she considers the academic life for her career: a good dose of ingenuity, commonsense and sparkling originality would not go amiss in the halls of academe.

(Interested readers should contact Mark Buxton c/o The Diapason; he will be happy to offer further suggestions and advice to those desirous of exploring the highways and byways of England's organ/choral world.)

Notes

                        1.                  Advanced or 'A' Level examinations are taken by English sixth form (Grade 13) pupils. In order to enter university, a certain number of 'A' Levels must be obtained, together with specific grades. The number of 'A' Levels and the grades required vary greatly from university to university, from subject to subject, and from student to student.

                        2.                  Published by Oxford University Press, 1987.