Fire destroys Euclid Avenue Congregational UCC building in Cleveland

From the ashes

In the September 2005 issue of The Diapason, I wrote about the destruction of a venerable pipe organ in a Boston church. E. & G. G. Hook’s Opus 253 of three manuals and 25 stops was built in 1859 and was destroyed on Tuesday, January 18, 2005, in a five-alarm fire that gutted the First Baptist Church of Jamaica Plain, Massachusetts. The response of firefighters was such that the parsonage (just a few feet from the church building) and the rest of the close urban neighborhood were preserved. But the church’s loss was deeply felt in the community and in the wider world of those who appreciate historic organs. [See also “In Memoriam E. & G. G. Hook, Opus 253 (1859–2005),” by Leonardo Ciampa, in the March 2005 issue of The Diapason.]
Many professional organists and organbuilders will argue that E. & G. G. Hook was among the finest organbuilding firms in the history of the art (See Photo 1: Hook factory). Under three different names (E. & G. G. Hook, E. & G. G. Hook & Hastings, and Hook & Hastings) the firm produced over 2,600 instruments in its more than 100-year history. The factory was located in Roxbury (another of Boston’s neighborhoods) on a site now occupied by Northeastern University, about two miles from Jamaica Plain. Until the Jamaica Plain fire, three of the seven surviving pre-Civil War Hook organs were located on Centre Street in Jamaica Plain within easy walking distance of one another. George Greenleaf Hook, the younger of the Hook brothers, lived less than two blocks up a side street from Centre Street. What a neighborhood!
Television news broadcasts carried the story while the fire was burning and Boston’s organ community crowded the phone lines. The church’s pastor, the Rev. Ashlee Wiest-Laird, was prominent in both television and newspaper reporting, assuring the congregation and the community that they would rebuild. The publicity surrounding the fire included much information about the organ, making it clear that the church was well aware of its importance and the heritage it represented. Mariko Irie, the church’s current organist, past organist Leonardo Ciampa, and local organist and friend of the congregation Lois Regestein all joined Pastor Wiest-Laird in asserting the intention that the rebuilding of the church would include the acquisition of a comparable organ to replace the loss. The smoke cleared and the dust settled. A double-wide trailer was installed on the church yard providing space for worship and meetings. Committees went to work to plan the rebuilding project. It became clear that the walls and steeple of the building could be retained, but the entire interior and roof would have to be replaced. (See Photo 2: First Baptist Church)

A glimmer . . .

My work frequently takes me to New York, a city rich in great churches with wonderful organs and organists and outstanding music programs. The city is so crowded that outside the grand public parks there are few places where the actual earth is apparent through the pavement. It’s something of a surprise to see real dirt when walking past a water-main repair in progress. As such, there is precious little open land available in the city so real estate developers are perfecting the practice of adding high-rises on top of existing buildings. An institution such as a church can realize a powerful economic boost by selling air rights above their building.
In August of 2005 I received a call from The Rev. Dr. Edward Earl Johnson, pastor of the Mt. Moriah Baptist Church in Harlem, on Fifth Avenue in New York City. His church was planning a large-scale renovation project stemming from the sale of their air rights and plans for construction of a large condominium development overhead. The back wall of the sanctuary would be drastically rebuilt to provide support for the new building—in the wall were the chambers that housed an old pipe organ they weren’t using any more. Could the Organ Clearing House help? The next time I was in the city, I visited Mt. Moriah, and what did I find but a three-manual organ built by E. & G. G. Hook & Hastings in 1872—the year that Frank Hastings was made a partner in the firm! (See Photo 3: Opus 668, Mt. Moriah Baptist Church)
Opus 668 was originally built for the Church of the Disciples on Madison Avenue in New York. It was moved to Mt. Moriah by Hook & Hastings early in the 20th century where it was installed in two chambers on either side of a choir loft above the preacher’s platform—a very unusual installation for a 19th-century tracker-action organ! Trackers assisted by a pneumatic Barker-lever machine ran more than 30 feet from the keydesk under the floor of the choir loft to the Swell division. A study of the organ’s building frames implies that the instrument was also originally installed in two locations—the free-standing structure that supports the remote Swell is “original equipment.”
I must admit that because of the unusual configuration of this organ, I had some trouble imagining how it might be relocated. But I promised Dr. Johnson that I would try to find a new home for the organ, took photographs and measurements, wrote down the stoplist, and posted the organ on the Organ Clearing House website as #2112. I gave it the headline, “the wonders of technology,” reflecting the presence of the Barker-lever machine that allowed the split installation. Look at a photo of the installation and you would never recognize this as a Hook organ. But glance at the stoplist and you’ll have no doubt. A call from Lois Regestein suggested that a colleague of hers had noticed the listing on the website and wondered if the organ might be a candidate to replace Opus 253 in Jamaica Plain. What a thought. If the organ had been installed twice in divided configurations, why couldn’t it be reworked into a more common layout and take its place in the neighborhood where it was built?

E. & G. G. Hook & Hastings, Opus 668

Great
16' Open Diapason
8' Open Diapason
8' Viola da Gamba
8' Gemshorn
8' Doppel Flute
4' Octave
3' Twelfth
2' Fifteenth
III Mixture
8' Trumpet

Swell
16' Bourdon
8' Open Diapason
8' Stopped Diapason
8' Viola
4' Violina
4' Flauto Traverso
2' Flautino
8' Cornopean
8' Oboe

Choir
8' Geigen Principal
8' Dulciana
8' Melodia
4' Flute d’Amour
2' Piccolo
8' Clarinet

Pedal
16' Open Diapason
16' Bourdon
8' Violon Cello

It was a poignant moment, gathering with pastor, organist, moderator, and parishioners in the temporary trailer in the shadow of the burned church building to discuss this exciting possibility. In March 2006 an agreement was signed between the First Baptist Church of Jamaica Plain and Mt. Moriah Baptist Church of New York for the purchase and sale of the organ. On April 24, 2006, the crew from the Organ Clearing House arrived in Harlem to dismantle the organ. One important detail remained. There were not even architectural plans for the rebuilding of the burned church. We needed a place to store the dismantled organ. It was Pastor Wiest-Laird who worked the magic. Earlier in the year a large church building on Centre Street had been vacated (the Casavant organ had been purchased by a parish in San Antonio, Texas and dismantled and shipped by the Organ Clearing House). While plans for the future use of the building were being developed, it would be available for the storage of the organ from Harlem. So just a few months after removing one organ, we placed another in storage in the same building!
Construction is under way at Mt. Moriah Baptist Church. Opus 668 is safely in storage in Jamaica Plain. The First Baptist Church is proceeding with their planning process. Stay tuned for future developments. Send your donations to:

The Organ Fund
Pastor Ashlee Wiest-Laird
The First Baptist Church
633 Centre Street
Jamaica Plain, MA 02130-2526

The Phoenix Project

A year ago, Hurricane Katrina caused widespread destruction along the coast of the Gulf of Mexico, especially in Mississippi and Louisiana. And in February of this year a series of fires, intentionally set, destroyed rural church buildings in Alabama. Laurence Libin, recently retired Curator of Musical Instruments at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York, and newly elected vice-president of the Organ Historical Society, responded by conceiving the Phoenix Project, an initiative of the OHS supported by the American Institute of Organbuilders and the Associated Pipe Organ Builders of America. This exciting project is for the purpose of placing “redundant” pipe organs in churches that have suffered such losses. If you know of such a church that needs a pipe organ, or of one that has an organ to give away, contact Laurence Libin at .
As the Organ Clearing House is a good source for experienced pipe organs, Mr. Libin and I corresponded several times about the Phoenix Project. I would soon be in New York for the dismantling of the Mt. Moriah Hook organ, and I suggested we might get together. When I told him what I was up to, his deep appreciation of historic musical instruments got the better of him, and he volunteered to help. I told him to wear old clothes! He spent two days with us immersed in pipe organ preservation. In fact, he had pipe organ preservation all over him. If you haven’t seen it first hand, you cannot imagine how deep is the dirt in a pipe organ that has been sitting still for a hundred years in New York City. Walking through a hotel lobby at the end of the day creates quite a spectacle. (See Photo 4: Bishop and Libin)

There’s no such thing as a free lunch.

When a pipe organ is made available “free to a good home,” there is almost always a string attached. The cost of relocating and renovating the organ is still there. The church that receives a free organ will likely have significant expense attached. However, that cost is typically competitive with the price of an electronic instrument, and but a fraction of the price of a new pipe organ. The Phoenix Project is a wonderful way for any church that has suffered loss through disaster to obtain a fine pipe organ.

There’s more than one way.

I believe that I am safe in saying that many readers of The Diapason share a concept of an effective church music program. There is a choir of adults, perhaps another of children, perhaps another of teenagers. There is an organ, a piano or two, a library of anthems. The organist/music director plans programming and rehearses the choirs. The congregation is used to singing three or four hymns in the course of a service. Music is offered at regular worship services, festivals, funerals, and weddings. Get the picture?
There is a lot of talk and action these days about alternative forms of musical expression in public worship. Praise bands, folk instruments, and rock-and-roll have found their place in the church. It’s here to stay. Recently I was participating in a public forum about organ music, and an audience member asked what I thought about such new trends in church music. I answered that what we consider to be a traditional music program is what works for me, that I know that many churchgoers are spiritually fed by alternative and contemporary forms of church music, and that whatever music is offered in church as part of worship should be the very best it can be—that contemporary should not be synonymous with poor quality.
If you would like to hear public worship offered in a special language, I recommend the choir of Mt. Moriah Baptist Church, 2050 Fifth Avenue, New York, New York. You will hear a splendid Gospel choir—exquisitely trained, enthusiastic in their presentation, singing from memory, accompanied by a wizard on a Hammond organ. Terrific. They have toured churches in Brazil several times, and people come from far and wide to share their art. The night before we began dismantling the Hook & Hastings organ there, people from the First Baptist Church in Jamaica Plain visited New York, shared a meal with the people of Mt. Moriah, and worshipped together. A wonderful witness of the work of the wide church, and testament to the work of a great organbuilder from another age.

A church musician’s perspective on the Boston Marathon bombings

On April 15th, tragedy marred the famed Boston Marathon when two bombs went off at the finish line. Three people were killed and 260 persons injured. Over the next week the nation was transfixed by news of the investigation and manhunt that culminated in the unprecedented lock-down of a major metropolitan area. Many still struggle to make sense of these terrible events. Richard Webster, director of music and organist of Trinity Church, Copley Square, Boston, ran the Boston Marathon, completing the race moments before the blasts. His story provides a compelling context for how church musicians can respond to disaster with hope. 

Jason Overall: What is your background as a runner?

Richard Webster: I started running around 1980 when I quit smoking. At first I couldn’t run around the block without collapsing in a heap, but I found running to be a cleansing distraction from nicotine craving. Eventually, regular running became a habit. I completed my first marathon in 1995 at age 43. I had read a book on marathon training and followed its instructions. As race day approached, I was not overly confident that I could run 26 miles, but I did it. Crossing the finish line was like walking through the gates of heaven. I was hooked. The race I ran this year in Boston was my 25th marathon. With adequate training, anyone can run a marathon. Runners come in all shapes and sizes. 

How often do you run marathons?

Usually two a year—Chicago in October and Boston in April. I run Chicago in order to qualify for Boston, an elite race open to those who have run a previous marathon under a certain time, based on your age. I turned 60 just prior to the 2012 Chicago race, which meant that my qualifying time for Boston went up by 10 minutes. As my husband says, “you don’t have to get faster, just older.” 

Have you found a spiritual dimension to running?

Absolutely. I empathize with those who call the great outdoors their “church.” Being in the glory of nature, even on a bad day, doing what God designed your body to do, is hard to top. If your body is the “temple of the Holy Spirit,” then exercise of any kind is basic housekeeping. There is a deep spiritual component to running. As Eric Liddel said in his Chariots of Fire sermon, “When I run, I feel God’s pleasure.” For me, running is meditation. As a composer, some of my best ideas result from a long run when the mind is receptive, empty. I never run with music, earbuds, or paraphernalia. I love the silence. My footfalls and the wind in my ears are music enough. 

What is a typical weekly schedule for your running?

I would love to run daily, but a church musician’s schedule is so wonky that some days it just doesn’t happen. If I put it in my calendar, like a rehearsal, then I’m more likely to do it. I try to run four to six times a week. A day or two off each week is good. Your body needs to rest, repair and restore itself. In the months leading up to a marathon, one long run a week (8 to 20 miles) is key.

Are there parallels between running and musicianship? Has your musicianship benefitted from running?

Exercise, especially the aerobic kind, increases blood flow. More blood through the brain improves concentration, something vital to musicians. Running has increased my stamina in general. This week I’ve been directing the Grand Rapids Choir of Men and Boys in recording sessions for a new CD. I stand for hours, waving my arms, doing all I can to help this fine choir achieve its best. I don’t tire. Being a distance runner steels you. It gives you endurance.

What were your expectations before this year’s Boston Marathon?

The best day of the entire year in Boston is Patriots’ Day, the third Monday in April, commemorating Boston’s role as the cradle of the Revolution. It’s the day of the Boston Marathon, the world’s oldest and most prestigious marathon, something our city is rightly proud of. As a state holiday, businesses and schools are closed. Everyone has the day off. From the starting line in Hopkinton to the finish line in Copley Square, throngs turns out to cheer the runners and enjoy the race. It’s a 26-mile long party. On Patriots’ Day Boston truly becomes that “city on a hill” for all the world to see. The energy, enthusiasm and electricity flowing back and forth between the runners and the fans is hard to describe. It’s like really good church. I find it to be incredibly spiritual.

I usually run marathons in costume. It’s more fun and it jazzes up the fans. Kids particularly love it. I’ve run as the Easter Bunny, Paul Revere, Abraham Lincoln (in 2009 for his 200th birthday), Robin, J. S. Bach (to raise funds for the Bach Week Festival in Chicago), Robin Hood, Cat in the Hat, and a bumble bee. This year, to raise funds for the Trinity Boston Foundation, we held a costume contest. “See Richard run . . . as an Angry Bird, the Pope, or Prince William.” Votes were cast by making contributions to the Foundation. Prince William won handily. The costume was handsome—a red military jacket and sash, à la Prince William on his wedding day. I had a framed photo of Kate Middleton dangling from my neck and wore a big crown so fans could see me coming. All in all, it was a heady mix of fun, adrenaline, and enthusiasm, and for a worthy cause.

Did you have any goals?

No. Unlike Chicago, which is a flat course, Boston is notoriously hilly. Heartbreak Hill is only one of many “ups and downs” in this race. A “personal best” in Boston is as elusive as the Holy Grail. I’m always happy just to finish. Last year’s race, when it was 88 degrees, I ran in 4:30. This year I lopped off nearly a half hour, finishing in 4:03. 

Runners, especially marathoners, rely on their fans to help get them through the race. I knew I’d see one of my choir members at Mile 11 in Natick. She was there with a banana, a swig of water and a hug. Mile 13 is the “Wellesley gauntlet,” with thousands of Wellesley College women hanging over the police barricade screaming and begging for kisses from runners. So inspiring. So fun. At Mile 19 a group of Trinity choir folks awaited me, near the beginning of Heartbreak Hill. One of my tenors jumped into the race. For the next two miles, he ran with me, sticking by my side until we had crested Heartbreak Hill. Thanks to Mark, I forgot about the agony of those two relentlessly uphill miles. A gaggle of friends had gathered at Coolidge Corner, Mile 23.5, cameras and iPhones poised. Their wild cheering jazzed me up so much that I ran the rest of the race. Usually the agony of the last 3–4 miles is so acute that I can’t run continuously. It’s more a mix of running, walking, and hobbling. Lots of runners resort to this toward the end. For me, this time was different. My Mile 26 was the second fastest mile of the entire race. Inexplicably, I just kept running and crossed the finish line several minutes before I should have. Was it the Holy Spirit? Coincidence? The fans? The costume? I don’t know. 

Did you have friends waiting for you at the finish line?

I did, but I didn’t know it. Just after finishing, I spotted one of my choristers and her father in the crowd in front of Old South Church. I went over to the barricade for a quick hug and chat. Soon after leaving them, the first explosion went off a half block away. I will never forget how loud it was. It doesn’t surprise me that some who were close to the blast suffered hearing damage. At this point you think, “Is this a stunt? Fireworks? Something electrical?” Utter bewilderment. When the second blast struck, further down Boylston Street, you knew something was terribly wrong. Suddenly, chaos was everywhere. Sirens. Medical personnel careening toward the scene with stretchers. Emergency vehicles appearing out of nowhere. Choirs of sirens. Race volunteers moving the finishers away from the scene. A cluster of us were standing around trying to figure out what was going on when another runner who had just crossed the finish line, his forehead bloody, staggered up to us. Choking on his words, he said, “I can’t believe I saw limbs lying in the street.” We began to cry. How could this be happening? As this group of strangers wept, race volunteers surrounded us, asking, “How can we help? Can we call a relative for you?” That was futile, of course. Cell phone service was completely down. In the face of evil, the impulse is to overwhelm it with kindness and compassion. People were desperate to find a way to help, to bring relief to the suffering. In the weeks following, this response did not abate. Boston has felt like the Kingdom of God. Goodness, gentleness, and generosity are everywhere. Traffic is less aggressive; crowding onto a rush hour subway more deferential. Our city responded by saying, “The last word will not be evil, but kindness and mercy.” 

Some days later, the same chorister and her father with whom I had spoken at the finish line on race day said to me, “You saved our lives. We had been standing where the first bomb went off, waiting to see you finish. When you crossed the finish line, we left to go find you. Had you not finished when you did, we would have still been standing at that spot.”

How do you make sense of that? Maybe God gave me what it took to run faster than usual in order to spare their lives. But what about those who were not spared? These are hard spiritual questions with no facile answers.

What elements of your spirituality or musicality have nourished you during this time?

It has been a difficult time at Trinity. Our church is near the finish line. For ten days, the Copley Square area was closed as a crime scene. No one could get near the church. We were in exile. Where would we worship the following Sunday? The Church of the Advent graciously invited us to join them. Liturgically, our two churches are famously different. The two congregations worshipping together would have been something to behold. Temple Israel also reached out to us, offering their beautiful, modern building in the Longwood Medical area. “Come and hold your services here,” they invited. Not only did these kind people open up their building, they demonstrated radical hospitality, laying on coffee hour, serving as ushers, directing us to the restrooms. The chief Rabbi publicly welcomed us. We celebrated the Eucharist before the Torah ark in the Jewish temple. Who would ever have thought? Their only request was that we not bring crosses into the building. Roughly 900 people worshipped in a space as un-Richardsonian Romanesque as one could imagine. With a choir of eighty, a grand piano and flute, we were good to go. There was a lightness, grace, and holiness to it all. The congregation belted the hymns as never before, much to the amazement of the Jews, who blogged about “how those Christians really sing!” No one there will ever forget that service. The psalm appointed for Good Shepherd Sunday was Psalm 23. “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me.” What more needs to be said?

The Trinity choirs have been a unifying thread through these trials. The day after the attacks, a choir dad e-mailed, “My daughter insists that the Choristers go ahead with rehearsal today. She is adamant that they be together. If they can’t go to Trinity, then why not rehearse at Mr. Webster’s house?” A 10-year old gets it. When you’re the choir, you come together to do your job. You have a mission. Two days after the bombings, with the church still closed, our Wednesday Evensong morphed into an open-air service at the police barricade two blocks from the church. Colin Lynch led the choir, and clergy offered prayers for the healing of our city. Though our church building was closed, the community of faith carried on. Trinity finally reopened the following Wednesday. The first public service was Evensong with the Choristers. TV cameras rolled. It was another step in a painful, uncharted, redemptive journey that no one could have foreseen. 

At a time like this clichés are helpful because they convey truth. Life is precious. Life is a gift. It can be taken away or altered in an instant. Thank God for it every day, and tell those you love that you love them. Tell them often.

You express yourself so eloquently through your compositions. Can you envision responding to these events through your music?

I don’t know yet. Here’s another irony. The day before the race was a Sunday, known in Boston as Marathon Sunday. It’s a big day in the city churches, with scores of out-of-town runners on hand. At Trinity we bless the athletes during the services. I had composed a new anthem, Have you not known? Have you not heard? based on Isaiah 40, to be premiered that day. The text includes, “They shall run and not be weary. They shall walk and not faint.” It had been commissioned by Stephen J. Hendrickson, a parishioner whose partner, David McCord, was about to run his first marathon. The energetic music weaves in the famous theme from Chariots of Fire. The Trinity Choir gave it a rousing first performance. Given the following day’s events, the piece has acquired a particular poignancy.

Are there other aspects of this that you would like to share?

There is no doubt that evil exists. We saw it in twelve horrifying seconds in Boston. But evil is everywhere, every day. Though there was injury and death on Patriots’ Day, there is violence in the streets of Boston, Chicago, Baghdad, and Damascus every day. We who claim the faith of Jesus are called to respond to the world’s brokenness passionately, with courage, mercy, and healing. 

Richard Webster, FRSCM, is director of music and organist at Trinity Church, Copley Square, Boston. He is also music director of Chicago’s Bach Week Festival, and president of Advent Press (www.advent-press.com).

From the organbuilder

In 1976, a fire at the historic Christ Anglican Church in London, Ontario, caused severe damage to the interior of the nave as well as considerable damage to the organ. The organ was built in 1907 by the Warren Organ Company—a well-known builder at the time—in Woodstock, Ontario. While the instrument contained lovely romantic sounds of well-balanced organ voices, it became clear after consultation with organ companies and consultants that the damage to the historic instrument was beyond restoration at a reasonable and justifiable cost.

Designed in 1862 in Gothic Revival architecture by London City designer William Robinson, Christ Church—seating about 200—became the second oldest Anglican church in London after St. Paul’s Cathedral. Located in the city core area between the railway and the Thames River, the church was a center of worship and activities for both the working community and academia alike, and became known for its high standard of Anglican liturgy and music. In 1878 prominent citizens of London came together at Christ Church, and the result of this meeting was the foundation of the University of Western Ontario. 

Following extensive repairs to the fire-damaged nave, the acquisition of a new organ became the next project. This involved discussions with a few organ companies, the church vestry, organists, and musicians of related disciplines. An invaluable contribution was the advice given by the late organist and composer Dr. George Black, who was Professor of Music, Anglican Liturgy, and Romance Languages at Huron College. 

The consensus was that a new organ should be placed in the west-end gallery of the nave and not at the front in the chancel where the first organ was located. Part of this decision was based on the excellent acoustic properties of the nave, into which sounds could flow freely from the balcony location. At Christ Church the measured sound decay period across a broad spectrum of frequencies was an ideal 2.5 seconds. We would like to believe that architect William Robinson must have had in mind such acoustics where public speaking, congregational singing, and other musical sounds projected easily into every corner of the nave. And thus, in the design of a new organ, such acoustic properties demanded special consideration in the development of the organ pipes, their materials, and scales for their intended sounds.

I had the privilege of collaborating with Dr. Black in the development of a new organ that would not only provide all tonal resources for liturgical worship but also offer opportunities for other musical events, such as recitals and performances with other musicians.

But with all this enthusiasm there was a problem. While the ideas were all good, fire insurance coverage did not provide nearly enough money to build the envisioned instrument. London, a city of 300,000, still had the “small-town” community atmosphere where friends of Christ Church—musicians from other churches or other music disciplines—came together. The late attorney, organist, and conductor Gordon D. Jeffery offered, free of charge, his privately owned small concert hall—Aeolian Town Hall—as a venue for concerts and recitals as fundraisers toward the cost of a new organ for Christ Church. His Aeolian Town Hall also housed a three-manual tracker organ of thirty-four stops (my Opus 47) and hence was an ideal location for both organ recitals and chamber music. All musicians donated their talents to the Christ Church organ fund. There are too many artists to name and thank at this point. The result was that Christ Church would contract me as builder of the new organ in January 1976. It would have fourteen stops, mechanical key and stop action, two manuals and pedal, and freestanding casework for projection. 

The organ dedication, presided over by Bishop of Huron, T. D. B. Ragg, took place on February 6, 1977.

Similar to other cities and towns, over recent years urban changes affected inner-city activities, which resulted in diminishing attendance of downtown churches. Christ Church was no exception to such changes, and eventually, after years of efforts to provide local needs, had to close its doors. The organ, along with other contents, was offered for sale. 

Of the parties interested in purchasing the organ, one was particularly suitable in terms of space, liturgical and musical use, and especially for its acoustic environment. It was St. Mark’s Anglican Church in Niagara-on-the-Lake, Ontario, which agreed to accept and accommodate the organ.

I, along with colleagues Tom Churchill, Larry Hunt, and Chris McKaskell, undertook the relocation of the instrument from Christ Church in London to St. Mark’s, where it has an ideal and fortunate location. I needed to make only minor tonal changes in its new home.

Of interest, it was organbuilder Tom Churchill who joined me when this organ, Opus 82, was built in 1976, and it is again organbuilder Tom Churchill who supervised its move to the new and most suitable location.

—Gabriel Kney

From the rector

Last February, through a conversation with a good friend who was honorary assistant in an Anglican church in London, I became aware of the possible closure of that church. My friend, the Reverend Dr. Donald Irvine, former dean of Huron College where I studied theology, informed me that, sadly, the Christ Church congregation would likely be closing its doors very soon. And so began my involvement, as rector of St. Mark’s, in a six-month process that would see the Gabriel Kney pipe organ (Opus 82) moved from London, Ontario, into our historic church in Niagara-on-the-Lake. 

When I was at seminary from 1972–1975, one of my professors, Dr. George Black, was organist at Christ Church, and it was at that time I first met the organ builder, Gabriel Kney, whose shop was in London. Both Gabriel and George were members of Christ Church. I often listen to a CD recorded in 1995 featuring George playing that very organ. In the liner notes for that CD there is a phrase that speaks of this marvelous combination of organist and organ builder: “the circumstances of having both a George Black and a Gabriel Kney in one small church is perhaps a testament to the mysterious working of Spirit.” Knowing both Gabriel and the late George Black over the years I can only say “Amen” to that!

Throughout my ministry, over the years our paths would cross many times. In 1989 Gabriel built a pipe organ for my former parish, St. John’s, Stirling, and it was George Black who played the inaugural recital on that instrument, a concert recorded by CBC Radio. In 2005 St. Mark’s became the recipient of another Gabriel Kney organ, from the Riese family who resided near Ottawa. This smaller organ now sits in the transept of the church. 

There are two important things to know about St. Mark’s Church, the place that was to become the second home to Opus 82. The congregation here is one whose history and heritage seem to seep from the walls.

In 1790 two prominent citizens of Niagara-on-the-Lake, then known as Newark, wrote to the Bishop of Nova Scotia asking that “an Anglican clergyman be sent to Niagara.” This request was passed on to the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel in England, and in 1791 Rev. Robert Addison was chosen and sent as a missionary to become the first rector. Addison, a graduate of Trinity College, Cambridge, brought with him his library of over twelve hundred books, the oldest of which was published in 1548. The Addison Library, as it is known today, is the oldest library in the Province of Ontario. Although the exact date of the construction of the church is uncertain, we believe it was erected within the first decade. In 1792 Niagara became the first capital of what would eventually become the Province of Ontario, and Robert Addison became Chaplain to the Legislature. Within a generation the community and St. Mark’s Church found themselves in the middle of a war, a conflict we know as the War of 1812. St. Mark’s Church was first used by British and Canadian soldiers as a field hospital, then later held by American soldiers when in 1813 Fort George and the town were captured by American forces. The church is one of the very few buildings to survive the War of 1812. One of our former parishioners, General Isaac Brock, commander of the British and Canadian forces, was a member of St. Mark’s, and Robert Addison would conduct his funeral in October of 1812 as a result of Brock’s death at the Battle of Queenston Heights. Although history and heritage are significant ingredients in our faith community, it is also important to note that St. Mark’s is a living and dynamic faith community. One of the ways we practice our faith today is through exercising God’s gift of music.

Under the very capable leadership of our organist and choir director, Michael Tansley, the Sunday morning liturgy is filled with the wonderful sounds of voice and instrument. Under Michael’s guidance our choir leads a congregation that loves to sing, and the Sunday morning faith experience is enriched by the joy that the ministry of music brings to worship. But our music experience is not limited to the Sunday liturgy. 

St. Mark’s was a key participant in the founding in 1999 of an annual music festival, Music Niagara. Atis Bankas, resident of Niagara-on-the-Lake, violinist in the Toronto Symphony, and a renowned and experienced teacher of many young violinists, is the artistic director of this festival. Under his auspices the very best musicians from all over the world are invited to Niagara each summer and most of those concerts take place here in this church. The combination of our rich history, a beautiful church, and the congregation’s passion for the arts, especially music, meant the acquisition of an instrument such as this pipe organ seemed to be a move in the right direction. There are indications already that this partnership between Music Niagara and St. Mark’s new pipe organ is beginning to bear fruit. On July 21, as part of the festival’s summer concerts, two organists from the Netherlands—Susanna Veerman and Wim Does—will play an organ recital here at St. Mark’s as part of their Canadian tour.

While there are many who love music in our parish, there was one parishioner, and very good friend, who simply adored the sound of the pipe organ. Fred Dixon was that man. On many occasions Fred and his wife, Marti, would tell me about their travels to Holland and their many excursions to churches there to hear many large pipe organs. When I spoke to him about this pipe organ in London he simply said, “Let’s get it for St. Mark’s!” He became a very gracious and generous benefactor without whom we simply would not have the organ. His generosity and vision were critical to the process of securing the instrument. With Fred’s help we also received a grant from the Foster Hewitt Foundation enabling us to cover the cost of transporting the organ from London to St. Mark’s, Niagara-on-the-Lake.

Gabriel Kney and Tom Churchill would oversee the process of dismantling and delivering the organ from Christ Church to our congregation, which they accomplished in mid-August. Tom is a lifelong friend, both of us having sung in a choir over fifty years ago in another Christ Church, a congregation where my father was rector.

During the time the organ was being reassembled at St. Mark’s, I spent many happy hours watching the two men at work, breakfasting with them at a local restaurant, the Red Rooster, and sharing a few drinks at the end of the day on the rectory veranda. It was good to renew old friendships. Gabriel Kney and his wife, Mary Lou Nowicki, who is herself a fine organist and retired professor of organ at Central Michigan University and the University of Kansas, spent a week seeing to the voicing and tuning of the instrument. At the end of that session we were all amazed to discover how wonderful the instrument sounded in our acoustic space although it had been designed for another church.

It was fitting that native son Andrew Henderson, organist at Madison Avenue Presbyterian Church in New York City, not only performed the inaugural recital on this instrument but stayed over to play the next day for the Advent Festival of Lessons and Carols. As we know, Advent marks the beginning of the Christian year and speaks of renewal and new beginnings. This Gabriel Kney pipe organ has been moved to another church from another diocese, the Diocese of Huron, and given a new beginning here at historic St. Mark’s. Those who call this faith community home could not be happier.

—Rev. Canon Dr. Robert S. G. Wright

Rector, St. Mark’s Anglican Church

Niagara-on-the-Lake, Canada

Photo credit: Cosmo Condina Photography (www.cosmocondina.com)

Websites of interest

St. Mark’s: www.stmarks1792.com

Music Niagara: musicniagara.org

Installation

My son Michael works for an architectural fabrication company in Boston that manufactures design elements for buildings, such as corporate logos with programmed LED displays, sophisticated signage, and art installations. They’ve made signs for Logan Airport in Boston, the Whitney Museum of American Art, and the Public Theater in New York. Recently, Mike built a clock tower that also displays arrival and departure information for installation in the international terminal of Logan Airport. It is in the form of an airplane wing, mounted vertically, and was the gift of Swissair. It is made of aluminum with lots of curved edges and a fancy paint job.

Mike’s work is similar to building organs in that a product is built in a workshop and taken on the road for installation. It also means that father and son get to be tool geeks together.¹ As I have done scores of times in my career, Mike goes on the road with a crew, staying in hotels, eating meals on a per diem budget in restaurants, and dealing with the logistics of getting things done while out of town.

Wendy and I live on East 9th Street in New York City, between Broadway and University Place. It’s in the heart of the campus of New York University, a bustling and colorful place. The other day, HVAC equipment was being delivered to a building up the street. There were signs placed at the beginning of the block (it’s a one-way street) a week ahead of time, saying the street would be closed Saturday and Sunday. Early Saturday morning, a crane arrived, the street was closed, and workers spent two days hoisting the machines to the roof of the five-story building. We live on the tenth floor, so I could look down and see the commotion. I was interested that of the twelve workers on the roof, only two were wearing hard hats.

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Installing a pipe organ is a logistical tour de force. There’s often a lot of work to do on the building to prepare for the organ, creating a blower room, running wind lines, reinforcing floors, painting walls, and installing lighting. It’s fun to make a festival out of the delivery of the organ. Parishioners come to church on Sunday wearing work clothes, the truck arrives as the service ends, and organbuilders and parishioners work together to carry the organ parts into the church. Follow that with a pizza supper, and you’ve got a party and a fun introduction for a new organ in town. 

Some churches have wide driveways and parking lots that allow a big truck to back right up to the door, even sometimes putting the truck’s ramp right into the narthex. But one church where we installed an organ had a steep and winding driveway, and it was impossible to bring the semi-trailer to the door. We had to transfer the organ into a smaller truck and make several trips up the hill. It was a big organ, it was January, it was Wisconsin, and it was snowing. 

In smaller churches, we have the run of the place, taking over the kitchen for making lunches and working without interruption or inconvenience, just making sure that the sanctuary is clear for worship on Sunday. Remote locations can be difficult. We installed a residence organ in far northern Idaho, where it was a two-hour round trip to a hardware store, it took UPS extra days to make deliveries, and the Moose Knuckle Lodge was the only restaurant. Their kitchen had no ovens or fryers, just a griddle and a microwave oven, and we exhausted their menu pretty quickly.

A large, complex, and highly anticipated organ installation is under way now at St. Thomas Church in New York City. Dobson Pipe Organ Builders, Ltd., worked for years with the late John Scott, organist and director of music at St. Thomas, an active organ committee, and consultant Jonathan Ambrosino planning this immense and sophisticated organ. You can read a description and specifications of the organ at http://dobsonorgan.com/html/instruments/op93_newyork.html.

The organ will have 102 stops and will feature an elaborately carved and decorated case on the south wall of the chancel, opposite the magnificent north case designed by Bertram Goodhue for the church’s 1913 Ernest M. Skinner Company organ.

Preparing a stately stone building for the installation of a 64,000-pound pipe organ is a herculean task. The Great and Positiv divisions will be installed in the new case, cantilevered over the choir stalls. In order to keep all that weight from bearing on the church’s stone walls, a huge steel structure has been installed. There are a few spots in the organ where it’s obvious that the structural engineers and the organbuilders had to work together closely to get all that material to fit.

I visited St. Thomas Church the other day where Lynn Dobson and John Panning gave me a tour of the partially assembled organ. All of the windchests were in place, along with wind regulators, ladders, walkboards, and lots of sturdy racks for supporting large pipes. Another truckload of parts and pipes was scheduled to arrive the next day.

St. Thomas Church is on the corner of Fifth Avenue and East 53rd Street, one of the busiest neighborhoods in the city. It is halfway between St. Patrick’s Cathedral and Trump Tower, next door to the hyper-popular Museum of Modern Art, and right in the heart of the legendary high-end shopping district. The sidewalks are always packed with tourists, shoppers, and street vendors, and the Dobson workers have to unload four, maybe five semi-trailers parked at the sidewalk.

When you’re delivering to a church in a big city, there’s never a loading dock, and you can never put the ramp of a truck on the top step at the church door. You go to City Hall to purchase a parking permit that allows you to put cones on the street, but you still have to watch like a hawk that no one tries to sneak in and park. Five years ago, the Organ Clearing House delivered a three-manual organ to the Church of the Resurrection on East 74th Street and Park Avenue, a much quieter neighborhood than St. Thomas, but we still had to stand with heavy loads on our shoulders while Park Avenue people walked their ten-thousand-dollar dogs along the sidewalks.

And in that church, like most of the places we work, there’s not much going on in the nave during the week, so you can put furniture pads on the pews and stack the whole organ on them early in the week, knowing that most of the big stuff will be up in the chamber before the weekend. St. Thomas Church is open to tourists, and there’s a busy schedule of weekday services. They’ve built a temporary wall closing off a side aisle of the nave to create storage space for organ parts and a workroom for the organbuilders. But there’s not enough space to accommodate all the organ’s components, so the Dobson people have the incredible task of sorting and organizing the myriad parts and pieces so the succession of truck deliveries contain what is needed soonest. Leave one windchest leg at the shop by mistake, and the job could come to a halt.

The truck arrives the night before the scheduled delivery to take advantage of lighter traffic in the wee hours, and an army of workers spends the day carrying components and packages across the sidewalk and up the stairs into the church. The first time I was on such a crew for the installation of the Flentrop organ at Trinity Cathedral in Cleveland, Ohio, in 1977, an overseas shipping container was delivered to the sidewalk on Euclid Avenue, and the team spent the entire day carrying the organ up the 20 stone steps to the nave. The organ had come from Rotterdam, across the Atlantic Ocean and up the St. Lawrence Seaway to the Port of Cleveland on a ship named Calliope. 

There follows a ballet of hoisting and rigging. Floor frames, which position the legs of the organ’s structure and ground-level components, are assembled and leveled. The structure is installed and prepared to bear the weight of the windchests, which are then hoisted into place. Workers on the chancel floor are busy teeing up the next few pieces while those in the chambers are turning screws, fastening pieces into their permanent homes. It’s a little like a game of Tetris, with oddly shaped pieces drifting along a pipeline.

At St. Thomas Church, massive towers of scaffolding have been installed on both sides of the chancel. They are partially obscured by safety netting so it is difficult to see the chamber interiors from the floor. But once upstairs, it’s quite a spectacle. As many times as I’ve stood or worked in a partially assembled organ, especially a huge one like this, I still marvel at the process. Where else but in a large organ chamber do you see such a display of human handiwork? The 600-year heritage of organbuilding culminates anew with each installation. All the different functions of a large organ are intermingled into one fantastic whole.

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St. Thomas Church is a landmark for the world of church music. Since 1913 when the present building was opened, along with its new Skinner organ (Opus 205), the organists have been T. Tertius Noble (of free-accompaniment fame), T. Frederick H. Candlyn, William Self, Gerre Hancock, and John Scott. Daniel Hyde is the newly appointed successor to John Scott, whose tenure was sadly cut short by his sudden death.²

According to its website, the St. Thomas Choir School is “the only church-related boarding choir school in the United States, and one of only three of its kind remaining in the world.” The choir has an intense schedule. A recent article about the choir in the New York Times stated that the boys are singing more than 20 hours each week. A look at the church’s calendar makes it clear that the organbuilders have a lot to work around.

The new Dobson organ will be a workhorse, played dozens of hours each week, and heard by tens, even hundreds of thousands of people each year. It will be played by some of the finest organists in the world. It was a thrill to stand inside the partially assembled organ, thinking of all the wonderful music yet to come. I’m grateful to Lynn and John for welcoming me, and I sure look forward to hearing the organ. You can see many photos of the construction and installation of this organ on Lynn Dobson’s and Dobson Pipe Organ Builders’ Facebook pages. It’s worth a ramble!

In recent memory, there has been a string of exciting organ installations in New York, including the Cathedral of St. John the Divine, St. James’s Episcopal Church, Christ and St. Stephen’s, Fordham University, Grace Church, Church of the Ascension, Church of the Resurrection, and Marble Collegiate Church. The organ at St. Thomas Church will surely be a thrilling addition to the fleet.

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Social media is a techno-sociological phenomenon that has taken the world by storm. I have an active community on Facebook, which is mostly limited to professionals in the pipe organ world. While sometimes it seems the whole thing is actually a revolution by cats trying to take over the world, for the most part, I find it stimulating and edifying, and a wonderful way to keep in touch with my profession. It is mid-June as I write this column, and in recent weeks I have seen countless posts of church musicians and school music teachers wrapping up their program years.

Students are saying goodbye to their important mentors, young organists are leaving academia to go out into the world, and choir directors are celebrating the bittersweet emotion of saying goodbye and looking forward to a few months with a lighter schedule. Lots of you out there are posting photos taken during year-end choir parties—festive gatherings of close-knit communities celebrating the time they’ve spent together. In many churches, the choir is the busiest volunteer group. While most committees meet monthly, the choir is together in the building twice a week, at least.

A few years ago, the music publisher J. W.
Pepper released a video interview with John Rutter, one of their most celebrated composers. I wrote extensively about that video in the July 2015 issue of The Diapason, and you can see the video online at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pm-Pm1FYZ-U. I’m reminded of this as I view the year-end posts. John Rutter says:

Choral music is not one of life’s frills. It’s something that goes to the very heart of our humanity, our sense of community, and our souls. You express, when you sing, your soul in song. And when you get together with a group of other singers, it becomes more than the sum of the parts. All of those people are pouring out their hearts and souls in perfect harmony, which is kind of an emblem for what we need in the world, when so much of the world is at odds with itself. That’s just to express in symbolic terms what it’s like when human beings are in harmony. That’s a lesson for our times, and for all time. . . .

Musical excellence is, of course, at the heart of it, but even if a choir is not the greatest in the world, it has a social value, a communal value. . . . A church or a school without a choir is like a body without a soul.

While I’m not an active sports fan, I have been one for much of my life: my father and I had an unbroken streak of 25 consecutive opening-day games at Fenway Park in Boston, and I understand the value of teamwork in athletics. But for the life of me, I can’t understand why a public school system would cut a music budget in favor of sports. And this has nothing to do with the increasing awareness of the dangerous long-term effects of the more violent sports.

At its root, choral singing is a basic human activity. We must breathe to live, and when we exhale across our vocal chords, we gain the power of speech. If we sustain our speech, sustain our vowel sounds, we’re singing. Voilà! When we’re singing together, we’re exchanging our very breath.  

Many of you are a month away from bringing the choir back together for a new year. It’s not one of life’s frills, and it should never be a chore. “It’s something that goes to the very heart of our humanity, our sense of community, and our souls.”

Notes

1. Recently, we were gathering at hotel in western Massachusetts for a family wedding.  Mike arrived at the same time as Wendy and me, and walked over to my car to greet us. My car is a Chevrolet Suburban, which has a long, deep interior, so I’ve made a tool with a hook that helps me pull stuff toward the back where I can reach it. As I fished for a suitcase, Mike laughed and said, “That’s what separates us from the animals.” I think he was comparing me to a chimpanzee using a stick to get ants out of the ground!

2. I wrote about John Scott following his death in the October 2015 issue of The Diapason.

John Bishop is executive director of the Organ Clearing House.

Shiny side up
The work of the Organ Clearing House involves trucks. Lots of trucks. We rent trucks when we are working on projects small enough to fit into a single truck body. And we have a trucking company in Nevada that we call when we need a semi-trailer or a little fleet of semi-trailers. After many years of jumping around from one company to another, it was a relief to begin working consistently with a single firm that could meet most of our needs.
When we are dismantling an organ, loading day is heavy work. A crew runs in and out of a church building all day long carrying heavy parts down stairs and fitting them into a truck like a giant Tetris® game. When the truck is full there’s often a moment when the crew and truck driver “shoot the breeze” for a few minutes before the load hits the road. We’ve heard a few doozies. One driver mentioned that it was a good thing we weren’t sending him to Canada because he had been convicted for smuggling firearms and wasn’t allowed to drive there anymore. We had just loaded an Aeolian-Skinner organ into his trailer.
Sometimes it’s pearls of wisdom: “You can drive down that hill too slow as many times as you want. You can only drive down it too fast once.”
And the friendly greeting as he puts it in gear and lets out the clutch, “keep the shiny side up!” Good advice, especially with my organ in the back!

Skootch
In 1979 I was part of a crew installing a new European organ in Cleveland. (You historians can route out which organ that was . . .) The church’s sexton, a fifty-ish German man, was involved in setting up the scaffolding, and I as “the young guy” was up there with him. As we were putting up the last scaffold frame we ran into the pitch of the ceiling. “Hold this,” he said, handing me the scaffold frame. I was standing on a plank. He pushed against the ceiling with his hands, gave the scaffold tower a kick with both feet, and the whole thing jumped a couple inches toward the center of the room. We were up high enough to be able to put a bridge from the top of the tower across the top of the organ to another tower. It was a three-manual free-standing organ in a classic organ loft with a spiral stairway. Must have been 50 feet. After his kick the tower didn’t stop making noise for several seconds, and because I was holding that frame I couldn’t steady myself. Nothing bad happened, but as I reflect on that moment, especially watching our crews set up massive towers of scaffolding today, I can hardly believe the risk that guy exposed me to without asking. I would have said no.
In another Cleveland church my boss and I witnessed a near disaster. We walked through the nave heading for the rear gallery where we were finishing renovation of the antiphonal organ. The pews were divided into three sections across the room, so there were in effect two center aisles and no side aisles. The walls featured unusually large stained-glass windows. A couple guys from the church’s maintenance staff were changing light bulbs in the chandeliers, using the kind of scaffolding that’s made of two-inch aluminum tubes and has a two-by-six-foot footprint. They were four sections high, and had the outriggers (stabilizers) pointing up the aisles the “long way,” rather than between the pews. From inside the organ chamber we heard “that” noise and ran down the stairs to find the tower at a 45-degree angle, the bottom of the tower still in the aisle, and Mr. Lightbulb on top with his foot on the wall next to a window. A couple inches to the right and he would have gone through the glass and fallen a long way to the lawn. Telling him to hang on, we yanked the tower straight again, and I had to go up to help the guy down.
What kind of maintenance supervisor would let that happen? Oh yeah, in the first story he was the guy on top of the tower with the big feet.

Those little voices
That Cleveland area organbuilder I was working with is Jan Leek of Oberlin, Ohio. I was privileged to work in his shop part time when I was a student, and then full-time for about five years after I graduated. He had learned the trade in Holland in what could best be described as an old-world apprenticeship, and as he taught me how to handle tools and operate machinery, he had a way of saying, “listen for those little voices.” If the little voice in your head says, “you’re going to cut your finger with that chisel if you do that once more,” the little voice is right. It’s a great image, and I am sure that his description taught me to conjure up those voices. I can still hear them. “The paint is going to drip on the carpet.” “The keyboard is going to fall on the floor.” “Your finger will touch that saw blade.”
The apprentice doesn’t hear the voices. The journeyman hears them and doesn’t listen. The master hears them and does listen.
An open quart can of contact cement is sitting on the chancel carpet next to the organ console. Of course it’s going to get knocked over when you stand up. The price of the glue, $4.79. The price of the carpet, $47,500.
A row of tin façade pipes is standing against the workshop wall. A worker is using a five-pound hammer to break up the crates that the pipes came in. The head flies off the hammer and dents one of the pipes, and they all fall over, one at a time in slow motion like 15-foot-tall tin dominos and there’s nothing anyone can do.
Cheery, isn’t it?
This subject is on my mind for several reasons. One is that I’ve spent the last couple days negotiating the rental of a huge amount of scaffolding and rigging equipment for a large project we will start next week, so I’ve been talking with salesmen about weight and height limits and what accessories are necessary to ensure safety. Another reason is that a locally owned small manufacturing company near us suffered a catastrophic fire last week. And as we work with scaffolding companies in New York we hear stories about the construction industry, especially relating to recent serious accidents involving cranes used in the construction of high-rise buildings.
I love the image of the organbuilder at a wooden workbench, a window open next to him providing a gentle breeze, a sharp plane in his hands, and the sweet smell of fresh wood wafting off the workpiece as the shavings curl from the blade of the plane. Or that of the voicer sitting in seclusion with beautiful new pipes in front of him coming to life under his ministrations.
But think of that majestic organ case in the rear gallery with an ornate monumental crown on the top of the center tower, covered with moldings, carvings, and gilding, and pushed up against the ceiling. Uplifting, isn’t it? It might be eight feet long, six feet wide, and three feet tall. It might weigh 500 pounds, and someone had to put it there. Making it is one thing. Getting it 50 feet off the floor and placed on those 20-foot legs that hold it up is another thing altogether. Uplifting, all right.
Organbuilders have a variety of skills. We work with wood, metal, and leather. We work with electricity and solid-state circuitry. We have acute musical ears for discerning minute differences in pipe speech and for setting temperaments. And we must be material handlers—that specialization of moving heavy things around safely.
To put that tower crown in place you need scaffolding, hoisting equipment, and safety gear to keep you from falling. How high up do you need to be before you need that gear? Easy. Ask yourself how far you’re willing to fall. Twenty feet? Thirty feet? Four years ago the Organ Clearing House dismantled the huge Möller organ in the Philadelphia Civic Center. (That organ is now under renovation in the new workshop of the American Organ Institute at the University of Oklahoma.) The organ chamber was above the ceiling, 125 feet above the floor. The demolition company (the building was to be torn down) cut a hole in the floor of the blower room big enough for the organ parts to pass through. And we were left standing on the edge of an abyss. We used full-body harnesses and retractable life lines. If you fell you’d drop about six feet and the ratchet-action of the retractable would stop you, something like the seatbelts in your car. And there you are, hanging 120 feet up.

Away aloft
A sailor hollers “Away aloft” as the halyard hoists the sail up the mast. The rigger might do the same. He ties a line around the load, hooks it to the line from the winch, and up it goes. It’s important to choose the right type of line—you don’t want chanciness caused by a line that stretches, for example. But what really matters is the knots you use. Some knots are meant to slip. Some are meant to be permanent. A favorite is the bowline, which cannot untie, but also cannot pull so tight that it cannot be undone. It was developed by early sailors to tie a ship to a dock or mooring. Think of a large sailing vessel, bow tied to a mooring, bouncing on the waves and pulled by the wind for weeks. There’s a terrific amount of force on that knot. But you give the top of the knot a push sideways and it can be taken apart easily. Beginning sailors are taught how to tie the bowline both left- and right-handed, blindfolded. I once had to tie a bowline while diving under a boat in order to repair a centerboard control.
Different knots are intended for different purposes.
A half-hitch is a great knot for securing something temporarily, but it looks a lot like a slip knot. If you don’t know the difference you might tie a slip knot by mistake. How will that work when the weight of a windchest shifts while being hoisted into the organ?
If your skill set doesn’t include three or four good reliable knots, I recommend you learn them. There are neat books for this purpose, predictably available from boating-supply companies. Some come with little lengths of line so you can practice in the comfort of your home.
When hoisting heavy parts you can also use nylon webbing. It’s available in neat pre-cut lengths with loops on each end for easy tying. The webbing is easy on the corners of the piece you’re lifting, and it’s very strong. A one-inch wide web is rated for 2,000 pounds in vertical lift. But keep a good eye on its condition. Recently there was an eerie photo in the New York Times in the aftermath of the collapse of a construction crane. It showed a piece of torn webbing dangling from a hook. That photo prompted us to purchase new webbing for our next rigging job!
In the nineteenth century, the great Boston organbuilding firm of E. & G.G. Hook suffered two serious fires, both of which destroyed their workshops. I know of two North American organbuilders who have had bad fires in the last decade. Neither was caused by carelessness; in fact, one was caused by lightning. I thought about those two colleague firms working to rebuild their companies when we heard of a terrible fire at a boatyard near us. Washburn & Doughty is a family-owned company with about a hundred employees that builds heavy commercial vessels like tugboats, fireboats, and ferryboats. It’s quite a spectacle to see a hundred-foot tugboat under construction in a small village. And a mighty amount of steel goes into the building of such a boat. On Friday, July 11, sparks from a cutting torch ignited a fire that destroyed the building. It was routine work for a place like that, and newspaper stories told that the fire was officially accidental. They were able to save a hundred-foot tug that had been launched and was being completed at the dock—they cast it adrift! But two others that were still in the buildings were lost and 65 employees were laid off temporarily while the owners work out how to rebuild.
Ten years ago I was restoring an organ built by E. & G.G. Hook with lots of help from volunteers from the parish. We were refinishing the walnut case, and I mentioned the fire hazard of rags that were soaked with linseed oil. They must be spread out to dry. If they’re left in a heap they will spontaneously combust. One of the volunteers took a pile of the rags home and put them in a bucket in the middle of his backyard. He told us later that it had only taken about ten minutes before the bucket was full of fire!
This is a pretty gloomy subject. But I write encouraging my colleagues to look around their workplaces with a critical eye toward safety. Be sure you have the proper gear for lifting and moving the things you’re working on. Store your paints and finishes in a fire-proof cabinet. Eliminate the possibility of sparks finding a pile of sawdust and spread out those oily rags. Encourage your workers to use safety equipment. Safety glasses may look nerdy, but it’s not cool to lose an eye!
Get your hands on a good industrial supply catalogue—I have those from Grainger and McMaster-Carr on my desk. Go to the “safety” pages and leaf through. You’ll see lots of things that protect against stuff you haven’t imagined could happen! Organbuilders are precious. Let’s keep them all in good health.