Gustav Leonhardt dies at age 83

Dutch organist and conductor Charles de Wolff died on November 23, 2011 in Zwolle, the Netherlands, following complications from a fall in his home in Vierhouten. He was born on June 19, 1932 in Onstwedde near Stadskanaal in the Dutch province Groningen, where his father was a minister of the Dutch Reformed church.

De Wolff studied piano, organ, and music theory at the Utrecht Conservatory. When his organ teacher George Stam ‘moved’ to the Amsterdam Conservatory, de Wolff followed his teacher to the Dutch capital, later continuing his studies with Anthon van der Horst. Van der Horst—whose students had also included Piet Kee, Albert de Klerk, and Bernard Bartelink—was perhaps the most influential Dutch organist of the twentieth century and also an important composer and conductor, especially known for his annual performances of Bach’s St. Matthew Passion with the Dutch Bach Society.

After completing his studies in Amsterdam in 1954 with the Prix d’Excellence (the highest distinction possible), de Wolff continued his studies, on van der Horst’s suggestion, with Jeanne Demessieux in Paris. From her, de Wolff learned to ‘only accept one’s very best’, as he said in an interview in 2008. Demessieux inspired de Wolff to go hear Olivier Messiaen at the Ste-Trinité on Sundays. Along with Bach, the music of Messiaen became a constant in de Wolff’s career. In 1965, he won the Dutch Gaudeamus competition for contemporary music with a performance of Messiaen’s Livre d’orgue. 

That same year van der Horst died, leaving ‘his’ Bach Society in the hands of de Wolff, who had already gained significant experience as a conductor following studies with Franco Ferrara and Albert Wolf. A year later, de Wolff was appointed music director of the Noordelijk Filharmonisch Orkest, based in the city of Groningen in the north of the Netherlands. De Wolff would stay with the orchestra for a quarter century. In Groningen, he also led the choral society Toonkunstkoor Bekker (1961–1989).

A difference of opinion about artistic matters between the Bach Society and its conductor in 1983 led to de Wolff’s leaving and the vast majority of the semi-professional choir following him. De Wolff and his choir continued their annual St. Matthew Passion performances—as well as their regular performances of Bach’s other major choral works—elsewhere as ‘Holland Bach Choir’, while the Bach Society started a new, smaller choir and an orchestra with period instruments. De Wolff stayed with ‘his’ Bach Choir until 1998, returning briefly a few years later.

As an organist, de Wolff was strongly associated with the Schnitger organ (1721) at Zwolle. One of the first of the large Dutch city organs to be restored with historic awareness (Flentrop 1954), the organ was regarded very highly by organists at home and abroad, especially in the 1950s and ’60s. The instrument was very dear to de Wolff, not only for the music of Bach, but also for Reger, Messiaen, and other contemporary organ music, much of which he premiered in Zwolle. A minor stroke forced him to give up organ playing in 2005.

Although a thoroughly passionate and in many ways single-minded musician—who could easily practice for eight hours a day and study orchestral scores in the evening—he was also a down-to-earth person, who enjoyed playing bridge with friends, driving large classic cars, and was never able to give up smoking. Seemingly secular on the outside, he always kept a connection with the Reformed Church and in later years played for weekly services, assisted by his son Franco, a geriatrist.      

After a simple ceremony, de Wolff was buried in Enschede on November 28, 2011.

—Dr. Jan-Piet Knijff, FAGO

Arlyn F. Fuerst died December 26, 2011 in Fitchburg, Wisconsin at age 69 from CLL (chronic lymphocytic leukemia), with which he lived since 2001. Born on May 25, 1942 in Holdrege, Nebraska, he received a Bachelor of Music degree in church music at Wartburg College in 1963 and Master of Music degree in church music and organ from the University of Michigan in 1964. In 1971 he received a Lutheran World Federation scholarship and was granted a leave of absence from his position at Trinity Lutheran Church for further studies at the Musikhochschule in Lübeck, Germany and the University of Iowa. His teachers included Warren Schmidt, Robert Glasgow, Uwe Röhl, Kurt Thomas, and Gerhard Krapf. 

Fuerst was minister of music at Trinity Lutheran Church (ELCA) in Madison, Wisconsin, from 1964 to 2006. He organized and directed an annual Renaissance Festival for Advent and Christmas on the First Sunday of Advent for 25 years from 1977–2001. The Trinity Choir toured Europe under his leadership in 1979, 1986, and 1996. He represented the city of Madison together with musicians from Trinity at the Madison Fair in Freiburg, Germany in 1994. He taught as a presenter from 1974–88 for the University of Wisconsin Music Extension Series, and from 1979 to 1988 as a presenter for the UW Series on Church Music on the Statewide Communication Network. Arlyn F. Fuerst is survived by his wife, Carolyn Fuerst née Wulff, three sons, nine grandchildren, and a brother and a sister. 

Gerre Hancock, one of America’s most highly acclaimed concert organists and choral directors, passed away peacefully on January 21, surrounded by his family, in Austin, Texas. The cause was coronary artery disease. A gifted artist, teacher, and composer, he was considered by many to be a giant figure in twentieth to twenty-first century American sacred music. He was known not only for his artistry, but also for his energy, optimism, and love of the people he taught and for whom he performed.  

At the time of his death, Dr. Hancock was Professor of Organ and Sacred Music at the University of Texas at Austin, where he taught along with his wife of fifty years, Dr. Judith Hancock. Prior to this appointment in 2004, he held the position of Organist and Master of the Choristers at St. Thomas Church Fifth Avenue in New York City, where for over thirty years he set a new standard for church music in America. Previous to his time at St. Thomas, he held positions as organist and choirmaster of Christ Church Cathedral in Cincinnati, where he also served on the artist faculty of the College-Conservatory of Music, University of Cincinnati, and as assistant organist at St. Bartholomew’s Church, New York City.  

A native of Lubbock, Texas, Gerre Hancock began to hone his legendary skills as a child, taking piano and organ lessons in Lubbock and playing in a local church. He went on to study at the University of Texas at Austin, where he received his Bachelor of Music degree, and from there to Union Theological Seminary in New York for his Master of Sacred Music degree, from which he received the Unitas Distinguished Alumnus Award. A recipient of a Rotary Foundation Fellowship, he continued his study in Paris, during which time he was a finalist at the Munich International Music Competitions. His organ study was with E. William Doty, Robert Baker, Jean Langlais, Nadia Boulanger, and Marie-Claire Alain.

A Fellow of the American Guild of Organists, Dr. Hancock was a member of its national council, and was a founder and past president of the Association of Anglican Musicians. As a noted teacher, he served on the faculties of the Juilliard School, the Institute of Sacred Music of Yale University, and the Eastman School of Music.  

Dr. Hancock was appointed a Fellow of the Royal School of Church Music in 1981 and of the Royal College of Organists in 1995. He received honorary Doctor of Music degrees from Nashotah House Seminary, the University of the South at Sewanee, Tennessee, and from Westminster Choir College in Princeton New Jersey. In 2004 he was awarded the Doctor of Divinity degree (Honoris causa) from the General Theological Seminary in New York, and was presented with the Medal of the Cross of St. Augustine by the Archbishop of Canterbury in a ceremony at Lambeth Palace, London. He is listed in Who’s Who in America. His biography appears in The New Grove Dictionary of Music and Musicians, second edition, and the New York City Chapter of the American Guild of Organists named him International Performer of the Year in 2010. 

Gerre Hancock’s consummate skill was clearly apparent in his concert appearances. Possessing a masterly interpretive style, he was an artist of taste, warmth, perception, and style—and a master of virtuosity in his improvisations. Considered for decades to be the finest organ improviser in America, he was heard in recital in countless cities throughout the United States, Europe, South Africa, Japan, and Great Britain. He also performed on occasion with his wife, Judith, including a recital at Westminster Abbey.

Compositions for organ and chorus by Dr. Hancock are published by Oxford University Press, as is his textbook Improvising: How to Master the Art, which is used by musicians throughout the country. He recorded for Decca/Argo, Gothic Records, Koch International, Priory Records and Pro Organo, both as conductor of the St. Thomas Choir and as a soloist. In addition, the American Guild of Organists produced a DVD about him, volume IV of The Master Series.

Gerre Hancock is survived by his wife, Dr. Judith Hancock of Austin, Texas, his daughters Deborah Hancock of Brooklyn, New York and Lisa Hancock of New York City, as well as his brother, the Reverend James Hancock, of Savannah, Texas. A memorial service took place February 4 at St. Thomas Church, New York City. The family requests that in lieu of flowers, donations may be sent to the University of Texas at Austin Organ Department with an emphasis on Sacred Music.

—Karen McFarlane

Alice Yost Jordan died January 15 at the age of 95 at the Bright Kavanagh House. Born in Davenport, Iowa, December 31, 1916, she moved with her family to Des Moines, where she attended Hubbell, Callanan, and Roosevelt public schools, and graduated from Drake University. She pursued graduate studies at Drake, Columbia University, and Union Theological Seminary. Drake honored her during their centennial year as “One in a Hundred.”

In 1986, Grand View University conferred the honorary degree, Doctor of Letters, upon her, and in 2006 Drake bestowed the honorary degree Doctor of Fine Arts. Mrs. Jordan was listed in the first edition of Who’s Who in American Women, and in Women in American Music. She was inducted into the Iowa Women’s Hall of Fame in 2002.

As a composer, she was best known for more than 250 published choral and organ works; one of her best-known arrangements, “America the Beautiful,” was sung many times by the Iowa All-state Chorus. Sherrill Milnes of Metropolitan Opera fame, and Jon Spong, his accompanist, chose her “Take Joy Home,” as a closing work on many of their worldwide concerts, including a White House concert. Over 40 of her works had been commissioned by churches, universities, and other organizations across the United States.

Alice Jordan served on the boards of the Des Moines Symphony Association, the Des Moines Women’s Club, and the Drake Alumnae Association, and was president of the Des Moines Civic Music Association when it had 4,200 members. Memberships also included ASCAP, Kappa Alpha Theta, PEO, and Mu Phi Epsilon, which honored her with the Orah Ashley Lamke Distinguished Alumni Award at its triennial national convention. For many years she was a member of the Des Moines Club. A long-time member of First United Methodist Church, she was also an elder in the Presbyterian Church.

Alice Jordan was preceded in death by her parents, her brother Lawrence, and her husband, Dr. Frank B. Jordan, an accomplished organist and a longtime Professor of Music and Dean of Drake University’s College of Fine Arts.

—Robert Speed

Dutch harpsichordist, organist, and conductor Gustav Leonhardt, a pioneer in period instrument performance and Baroque performance research, died January 16 at his home in Amsterdam. He was 83. Born in the Netherlands on May 30, 1928, Leonhardt began studying piano at age 6, and the cello when he was 10. His parents and his brother and sister were avid chamber music players, and when he was a teenager his parents bought a harpsichord for Baroque music performances; he made it his specialty. In 1949 he enrolled at the Schola Cantorum, in Basel, Switzerland, to study organ and harpsichord with Eduard Müller, moving the following year to Vienna to study conducting and musicology, where he made his debut as a harpsichordist in 1950, performing Bach’s Art of the Fugue. He also met Nikolaus Harnoncourt and began playing with his group. 

Among his first recordings were collaborations with the countertenor Alfred Deller on music by Bach, Purcell, Matthew Locke, John Jenkins and Elizabethans. As a keyboard soloist and founder and director of the Leonhardt Consort, Leonhardt made hundreds of recordings in the 1950s and ’60s that helped establish historical performance practice. He founded the Leonhardt Consort in 1955, for performance of Baroque repertoire, first concentrating on then little-known composers like Biber and Scheidt, and later including works by Rameau, Lully, Campra, and other Baroque composers. The group collaborated with Harnoncourt’s Concentus Musicus Wien to record, beginning in 1971, all of Bach’s church cantatas for the Telefunken (later Teldec) Das Alte Werk series. The recordings took nearly two decades to complete, and were released in boxed sets that included full scores of the cantatas. Leonhardt also recorded Bach’s keyboard music, sometimes revisiting works—he recorded the Goldberg Variations in 1952, 1965, and 1979.

Leonhardt taught harpsichord at conservatories in Vienna and Amsterdam, and also taught at Harvard in 1969 and 1970. His students included Richard Egarr, Philippe Herreweghe, Christopher Hogwood, Ton Koopman, Bob van Asperen, Alan Curtis, Pierre Hantaï, Francesco Cera, Andreas Staier, and Skip Sempé. He was also the founding music director of the New York Collegium. In Amsterdam, Gustav Leonhardt was appointed organist of the Waasle Kerk and later the Nieuwe Kerk (New Church), both of which have historic instruments. He continued to teach, and he edited the Fantasies and Toccatas of Jan Pieterszoon Sweelinck for the complete edition of Sweelinck’s works, published in 1968. That year he also portrayed Bach in Jean-Marie Straub’s film Chronicle of Anna Magdalena Bach, a non-speaking role that required him to perform, in period costume and wig, in locations where Bach worked. He gave his last public performance on December 12, 2011 at the Théâtre des Bouffes du Nord in Paris.

Gustav Leonhardt is survived by his wife, Marie Leonhardt, a noted Baroque violinist and concertmaster of the Leonhardt Consort, three daughters, and a sister, the fortepianist Trudelies Leonhardt.

Kay Arthur McAbee died January 8, after a month-long illness. He was born in Joliet, Illinois on November 17, 1930, and had been a resident of Albuquerque since 1986. He started his professional career as staff organist for the W. W. Kimball Company in 1952. After completing his musical education at the Chicago Musical College and the American Conservatory of Music in Chicago, he went on to become a featured soloist in at least five national conventions for the American Theatre Organ Society (ATOS), and was inducted into their Hall of Fame in 1985. He was a pioneer in the theatre organ world and well remembered for the series of concerts he performed at the Rialto Theater in Joliet, Illinois and the Aurora Paramount in Aurora, Illinois, and more recently at the Phil Maloof Roxy Organ at the Albuquerque Ramada Classic, Fred Hermes residence organ in Racine, Wisconsin, and concert series for the St. Louis Theater Organ Society. 

McAbee taught up to fifty students per week in Joliet for years at the World of Music. He was member of the American Guild of Organists for 50 years, choirmaster and organist at St. Peter’s United Church of Christ in Frankfort, Illinois for 23 years, and most recently organist for Covenant United Methodist Church.

—Larry Chace

This interview was first published in Dutch in Het Orgel 96 (2000), no. 5. Leonhardt had been made an honorary member (Lid van Verdienste) of the Royal Dutch Society of Organists in the previous year. Apart from small adaptations in the first few paragraphs, an occasional correction, and explanations, no attempt has been made to update the content of the article for this translation. The interview on which the article was based took place during the 2000 Leipzig Bach Festival. Leonhardt read the article before it went to the editor and was very pleased with it. I am grateful to the Royal Dutch Society of Organists and the editor of Het Orgel, Jan Smelik, for permission for its republication.*    

Gustav Leonhardt (1928–2012) was perhaps after Wanda Landowska—the most influential harpsichordist of the twentieth century. As Professor of Harpsichord at the Amsterdam Conservatory he introduced countless young musicians from all over the world to the interpretation of early music, especially the music of Johann Sebastian Bach. From his work with the Leonhardt Consort—with his wife Marie as first violinist—grew a limited but no less significant career as a conductor: Leonhardt’s contribution to the complete recording of Bach cantatas for Telefunken and his renditions of operas by Monteverdi and Rameau are milestones in the history of recorded music.

As an organist, Leonhardt has not become nearly as famous—perhaps because organists in general don’t tend to become famous in the way other musicians do, perhaps also because he limited himself to early music. Even among Dutch organists, Leonhardt remained an outsider. Therefore, his being made an honorary member of the Royal Dutch Society of organists in 1999 was an important recognition of a man who has helped define the way we have listened to and performed early music for more than half a century.

I spoke with Leonhardt in the summer of 2000 in Leipzig. He was chairman of the jury of the prestigious Bach competition for harpsichord; ironically, Leonhardt’s former student Ton Koopman held the same position at that year’s organ competition. I met the master after one of the competition rounds and we walked together to our hotels. Leonhardt is often said to have been formal; it is well known how he used to address his Dutch students with the formal pronoun u (pronounced [ü]; the equivalent of the German Sie); this must have come across as utterly prehistoric in the 1970s. But in fact, Leonhardt was extremely friendly; he conversed easily and openly about a host of topics. As we passed by the Thomaskirche, Leonhardt volunteered his opinion of the new Bach organ by Gerhard Woehl.¹ The conversation quickly moved from Woehl to Silbermann, and Leonhardt mentioned the organ at Großhartmannsdorf, which he played in the film The Chronicle of Anna Magdalena Bach: “You know, that Posaune 16 . . . ” His face and gestures spoke louder than a thousand words. I asked why no organbuilder today seemed to be able to make such a Posaune. “Look,” he said dryly yet firmly, “first of all, you have to want it.”

In 2000, at 72, Leonhardt was very much alive and well, still playing some 100 concerts a year. For a concert in Göteborg that year, he didn’t even have a hotel: he arrived in the morning, played a concert in the afternoon, and flew on to Portugal in the evening for a concert the next day. I asked whether he enjoyed traveling; he shrugged: “I mean, it’s simply part of it.” Leonhardt was happy to have the interview on his ‘free’ Friday, when there were no competition rounds. “But if you don’t mind, could we do it early?” What is early, 9 am? “Well, earlier would be fine too.” 8:30, 8 am? “Just fine.” It sounded as if 6:30 would have been OK too.

Jan-Piet Knijff: How did you become interested in organ and harpsichord?

Gustav Leonhardt: Through my parents, I think. They weren’t professional musicians—my father was a businessman—but they were enthusiastic amateurs. What was rather unusual was that, even before the Second World War, we had a harpsichord at home, a Neupert, a small one.² My parents played Beethoven and Brahms for pleasure, but from time to time also Bach and Telemann. Apparently they thought they had to buy a harpsichord for that. I had to learn how to play the piano as a boy; I mean, had to, it was simply a part of life. I don’t remember liking it very much. When the harpsichord came, they let me play written-out figured-bass parts. I didn’t care much for it, but of course, it must have shaped my musicality. During the last few years of the war there was no school, no water, no electricity. Marvelous, of course—especially that there was no school! Moreover, I turned sixteen that year, so I more or less had to hide from the Germans. My brother and I took turns being on the lookout. It was all very exciting. During that time, I was so attracted to the harpsichord. And since there was little else to do, I simply played all the time. And of course, there was the enormous love of Bach. Dad was on the Board of the [Dutch] Bach Society, where Anthon van der Horst conducted.³ At fifteen, I started studying music theory privately with van der Horst. Yes, that I enjoyed very much. I often pulled stops for him at concerts. That’s really where my love of organs comes from.

J-PK: You went to study in Basel. Would it not have been logical to study in Amsterdam with van
der Horst?

GL: Maybe, but harpsichord was high on my wish list too. And the Schola Cantorum in Basel was at the time the only place in the world where one could study early music in all its facets, including chamber music and theory. It pulled like a magnet: I had to go there.

That was in 1947, only a few years after the war, and Holland was really still a poor country at the time. There was very little foreign currency, so studying in Switzerland was not all that easy. Thankfully, my father had business contacts, so from time to time, I went on bicycle from Basel to Schaffhausen to pick up an envelope with Swiss francs . . .⁴ I studied both organ and harpsichord with Eduard Müller, for whom I still have the greatest admiration and respect.

J-PK: Can you tell me more about him?

GL: He was first and foremost an excellent organist, who in addition was asked to teach harpsichord, I think. He was the organist at a terrible organ, but whenever a new tracker was built—Kuhn or Metzler in those days—we went to try it out, right away, you know.

The way people played Bach on the organ was still pretty dreadful at the time, with many registration changes, swell box, that kind of thing. But even then, Müller played completely differently. For example, he would tell you that it was common to change manuals in this-or-that bar, but that that was simply impossible, because you would break the tenor line in two! So I learned from him to analyze very ‘cleanly’ and to use that as the basis for my performance.

Harpsichord playing was still very primitive in those days. The instruments I played on in Basel were simply awful. It wasn’t until later that I came to know historic instruments. The idea that you used different types of harpsichords—French, Italian—didn’t play a role at all. I did collect pictures of historic instruments, but really without wondering what they might sound like.

Strangely enough, Müller was not at all interested in historic instruments as far as harpsichords went. On the other hand, he was very precise with articulation. You had to play exactly the way Bach wrote. Bach was the order of the day. A little piece by Froberger or Couperin every now and then, but mostly Bach, really. August Wenzinger,⁵ with whom I studied chamber music, was much broader in that regard. He played the whole repertoire: French, Italian, and the seventeenth century as well. We also had to sing in the choir, Senfl and Josquin, but also monody. That was a revelation. We had Ina Lohr,⁶ who was the first to use the old solmisation system again as the basis of her theory classes. Everything was incredibly interesting.

Look, things were kind of black-and-white at the time. On the one hand there was Romanticism, and that was horrible, so you wanted something different. The Neue Sachlichkeit played an important role. I think I actually played very dryly in those days.

J-PK: Many people would argue that you still played dryly many years later.

GL: Everyone is free to think whatever they want, but I personally think I have allowed much more emotion in my performances over the years.

J-PK: Were there still others who influenced you as a young musician?

GL: [Immediately] Hans Brandts Buys.⁷ We lived in Laren, near Hilversum [between Amsterdam and Utrecht—JPK]. I played cello as well, and I sometimes played the cello in cantata performances he directed. I never studied with him, but he had an enormous library, most of all about Bach. In one word: a dream. I used to spend hours there, browsing, making notes. Brandts Buys also had a two-manual harpsichord, something quite unusual at the time. He had an enormous respect for what the composer had written. I learned that from him.

After my studies I got to know Alfred Deller, the famous countertenor.⁸ I had heard a tiny gramophone record of his and was incredibly impressed. It showed that singing could be more than a dead tone with tons of vibrato. Diction: that was what it was all about. The tone helps the diction. Deller was a master in this regard. That is incredibly important to me. We organists and harpsichordists have to think dynamically too. We have to shape the tone.

J-PK: After your studies you became Professor of Harpsichord in Vienna.

GL: Well, I mean, I taught there and yes, it was called ‘Professor.’ I actually went to Vienna to study conducting, even though it did not interest me very much. I don’t even remember now why I did it. It may have been at the urging of my parents. Organ and harpsichord, how was one ever going to make a living that way? With conducting one could at least pay the bills, that kind of thing.

But the most important thing in Vienna was the library. I’d sit there all day, from opening till close, copying music—by hand of course—and making notes from treatises. I still use that material today. Much has been published since, but not nearly everything.

J-PK: What kind of things did
you copy?

GL: Oh, everything. Froberger, Kuhnau, Fischer . . . Tablature too, I could read that easily back then—I’m completely out of practice now. I also copied lute tablatures, just out of interest.

In Vienna I got to know Harnoncourt.⁹ We were just about the only people interested in early music and played an awful lot together, viol consort also. That was relatively easy for me because of my cello background.

But after three years Leonhardt had had enough of the Austrian capital and returned to the Netherlands, where he was appointed Professor of Harpsichord at the Amsterdam Conservatory. At the end of the 1950s he became organist of the Christiaan Müller organ of the Eglise Wallonne, the French Protestant Church of Amsterdam.

GL: My wife is francophone and we both belong to the Reformed Church, so we went to the French church as a matter of course. I knew the organ already, but it was in very poor condition at the time. The action was terrible and it played very heavily. So when the position became vacant, I said that I was willing to do it on the condition that the organ would be restored properly. That was fine. I knew Ahrend already, so he restored the organ, with Cor Edskes as consultant.¹⁰ 

J-PK: How did you meet Ahrend?

GL: I don’t remember exactly. In any case, I had seen an organ they had built in Veldhausen.¹¹ That was a revelation back then, but I have recently played the organ again and it was still a revelation. That doesn’t happen very often, that one thinks the same way about an organ so many years later.

J-PK: What made Ahrend & Brunzema so special?

GL: I don’t know. They just understood organs somehow. They had ears and just knew how to get the sound they wanted.

J-PK: Ahrend has often been criticized for imposing too much of his own personality on an instrument when restoring it, for example
in Groningen.

GL: Well, I mean, he does have a strong personality, and in the Martini [the Martinikerk at Groningen—JPK], a great deal had to be reconstructed. In such a situation one can hardly blame anybody for putting his mark on a restoration.

J-PK: Was that also the case in Amsterdam?

GL: No. A lot of Müller pipes had survived in excellent condition and the new pipes Ahrend provided matched the old pipes very well indeed. Yes, the Waalse [Eglise Wallonne—JPK] is definitely the best-preserved Müller in my opinion—not that there is a lot of choice, unfortunately.¹² 

J-PK: You made a whole series of recordings on the organ, including composers such as Froberger, Couperin, and de Grigny . . . 

GL: . . . who really don’t belong there at all. You are totally right about that and I really don’t remember why we did it. Perhaps Telefunken wanted some diversity in the repertoire. On the other hand [he continues almost triumphantly], what should I have played on the Amsterdam Müller instead?

J-PK: The Genevan psalter, I suppose.

GL: [He laughs, covering his mouth with his hand.] Precisely—or Quirinus van Blankenburg.¹³

J-PK: As a harpsichord teacher, you have had a tremendous influence on a whole generation of harpsichordists from all over the world.

GL: Oh, come on . . . For a long time, I was simply the only one.

J-PK: Have you never wanted to teach organ?

GL: I’ve never really thought about that. But even for harpsichord I never had more than five students at the same time. That was more than enough. The rest of the time I was so busy with concerts and recordings.

[The conversation moves in a different direction; Leonhardt clearly wants to discuss something else.]

I don’t know if it’s on your list, but the difference between organ and harpsichord, I wouldn’t mind saying something about that. Look, the harpsichord has in a way stopped at some point in time. The organ went on, but changed completely. In my view, organ and harpsichord are intimately connected. To a large extent, the instruments shared the same literature and performers played both instruments. That stops at the end of the eighteenth century and in my mind it’s only because of its function in church that the organ has continued to exist. In other words, without the church, the organ would have died out as well. Interest in the organ at the beginning of the nineteenth century was practically zero, really.

All right, so the organ continued to exist. But over time, it changed so much that, really, it became a different instrument, at least in my view. That is a problem for the present-day organist that really does not exist for harpsichordists. How can a man serve so many masters? I don’t believe that is possible; at least, I can’t.

The problem is, we aren’t theorists. Musicologists can study different styles—that’s not a problem. But we musicians have to take the work of art in our hands . . . [an expressive gesture] . . .
and present it. That is something completely different; it demands much more ability to empathize. I have to say, when all is said and done, the colleagues whom I admire the most tend to be those who specialize at least to some extent.

[I mention an early-music specialist who at the same time is a jack-of-all-trades. Yes, Leonhardt agrees: a great musician.] But even so, you can hear that he plays so much other music as well.¹⁴ It’s a problem, of course. Take the flute: How much literature is there from the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries? Three Bach sonatas! We harpsichordists can bathe in a wealth of early music. One can easily spend a lifetime with it.

J-PK: Don’t you think the old composers are so far away from us that it is more difficult to empathize with them?

GL: No, I don’t. If you really study the time and the art of the period in all its facets—painting, architecture, and so forth—a composer like Froberger can come just as close as, say, Widor. And look, Widor has become early music too by now. One has to study that just as well. It’s no longer our own time; it’s not self-evident.

J-PK: You had to practically put yourself in Bach’s shoes when you played the lead role in Jean-Marie Straub’s film, The Chronicle of Anna Magdalena Bach.

GL: It wasn’t acting, you know. Performing in costume, that’s all. Just because I happened to do the same things as Bach did: playing organ and harpsichord, and conducting. Well, except for composing, of course. [A gesture of profound awe.] I found it a very respectful film, it was made with a lot of integrity, and I enjoyed contributing to it, also because Bach has determined my whole career.

J-PK: I think Frans Brüggen once said in an interview, ‘Leonhardt is Bach.’¹⁵ 

GL: [A gesture makes clear that he couldn’t disagree more.] I consider Bach the greatest composer who ever lived. But I also see him as a composer in his time, not just as some remarkable phenomenon. In that sense, I’m not a Bach man.

J-PK: Your career has mostly focused on harpsichord playing and conducting.

GL: Well, no, not conducting, that has always been a side path; I don’t do it more often than once or twice a year. The Bach cantata project, too, was really only one or two weeks a year. Conducting to me is in a way the same as playing chamber music, except I happen not to be playing.

J-PK: My point is that as an organist you have been relatively free to do whatever you wanted.

GL: That is true. The harpsichord is my livelihood; the organ is in a sense a luxury. It’s also a different kind of instrument. [Enthusiastically:] One can be crazy about an organ, I think. Harpsichords don’t really have that. That is because an organ usually has a much stronger personality than a harpsichord; that is part of what makes it such a fantastic instrument. On harpsichord, one has to work much harder to get a beautiful sound. A good organ does half the job for you if not more. A good organ dictates—in the best sense of the word—much more than a harpsichord.

J-PK: With all your interest in past centuries it seems that there is one aspect of our time that interests you in particular.

GL: I think I know what you mean.

J-PK: Fast cars?

GL: [Big smile—for a moment he looks almost boyish.] As the Germans say, Wenn schon, denn schon.¹⁶ If one needs a car at all, surely a beautiful one is better than an ugly one. I just got a new Alfa 166, three liters, and it really is a great pleasure. It’s a rather fiery one, you know, the kind that just wants to go out for a ride. In the city, he has to stay on the leash, but out of town . . . Yes, a real pleasure. ν

* I am also grateful to Hans Fidom, the former editor of Het Orgel who suggested that I interview Leonhardt. Finally, I thank my wife Brigitte Pohl-Knijff and the following colleagues, students, and friends for their comments on earlier drafts of this translation: Margaret Barger, Robert Brown, Jim Nicholls, Jodie Ostenfeld, and Paul Thwaites. For any dutchisms that remain I take sole responsibility.  

1. Gerhard Woehl built the new Bach organ (IV/61) for the Thomaskirche in the Bach year 2000.

2. The founder of the firm, Johann Christoph Neupert (who was apprenticed to Johann Baptist Streicher in Vienna) and his descendants were avid collectors of historic keyboard instruments. Still in business today, the firm built its first harpsichord in 1906.

3. Dutch organist, conductor, and composer Anthon van der Horst (1899–1965) was conductor of the Dutch Bach Society from 1931. He taught organ at the Amsterdam Conservatory, where his students included Albert de Klerk, Piet Kee, Bernard Bartelink, Wim van Beek, and Charles de Wolff. 

4. Schaffhausen, on the Swiss-German border, is some 60 miles from Basel.

5. August Wenzinger (1905–1996) was a cellist, viol player, conductor, and a pioneer of historically informed performance practice. He taught both cello and viol at the Schola Cantorum from 1933, where his most famous student (apart from Leonhardt) was no doubt viol player Jordi Savall, who succeeded him in 1974.    

6. Ina Lohr (1903–1983) studied violin in Amsterdam and theory and composition in Basel. One of the founders of the Schola Cantorum, she taught theory there on the basis of solmisation. She was also assistant conductor to Paul Sacher with the Basel Chamber Choir.

7. Johann Sebastian (Hans) Brandts Buys (1905–1959) came from a large Dutch family of musicians, which included some fine composers. A pioneer of harpsichord playing in the Netherlands, Brandts Buys was also active as a conductor. As a performer and musicologist he specialized in the music of his namesake, J.S. Bach. Brandts Buys had an unusually strong interest in historically informed performance and was the first in the Netherlands to conduct the St. Matthew Passion with a small choir and orchestra (1947). Leonhardt presumably took part in performances with the Hilversumse Cantate Vereniging (Hilversum Cantata Society), which Brandts Buys led during the war years 1943–1945.

8. The countertenor Alfred Deller (1912–1979) was central in reviving and popularizing the countertenor in the twentieth century. He founded the Deller Consort in 1948. Benjamin Britten famously wrote the role of Oberon in A Midsummer Night’s Dream for Deller (1960), who recorded it with the composer conducting.  

9. Nikolaus Harnoncourt (b. 1929), cellist, later conductor, founder of the period-instrument ensemble Concentus Musicus Wien (1953, first public performance 1957). Harnoncourt’s Concentus and the Leonhardt Consort collaborated for a recording of Bach’s St. John Passion (1965) and shared the complete recording of Bach’s sacred cantatas for Telefunken’s Das alte Werk. 

10. Jürgen Ahrend (b. 1930), German organ builder, active 1954–2005. In the 1950s and ’60s Ahrend and his then-associate Gerhard Brunzema (1927–1992) were perhaps the most serious, consistent, and successful in reviving the seventeenth- and eighteenth-century North-German organ style.  

11. In Bentheim county, Germany, near the Dutch border. The organ was built by Ahrend & Brunzema in 1957, and enlarged with a Rückpositiv by the Dutch firm Mense Ruiter in 1997.

12. Other surviving Müller organs include those in Haarlem, Leeuwarden, Beverwijk, and the Kapelkerk at Alkmaar. 

13. Apart from more imaginative works such as the cantata L’Apologie des femmes (The Women’s Apology, 1715), Quirinus van Blankenburg (1654–1739) published a Harpsichord and Organ Book of Reformed Psalms and Church Hymns (The Hague 1732).

14. Fortunately, I no longer recall whom I mentioned to Leonhardt.

15. The Dutch recorder player, flautist, and conductor Frans Brüggen (b. 1934) performed extensively with Leonhardt in such groups as Quadro Amsterdam and the trio with cellist Anner Bijlsma.

16. ‘In for a penny, in for a pound.’

Edward H. Holloway, 79, died February 9 in Zionsville, Indiana. He leaves behind his wife of 56 years, Doralyn “Lynne” Holloway, a sister, two daughters, four grandchildren, and five great-grand children. Born November 9, 1925, he graduated from Howe High School in 1942, where he was named All-City in basketball. He attended Butler and Purdue universities and was a member of the Sigma Nu fraternity. He was a lifetime member of the musician’s union, and after traveling with various bands, he played locally with the Louie Lowe, Doc Thrasher, and Phil Marshall Orchestras. Following in the footsteps of his grandfather, Elmer Holloway, he started a pipe organ business. He constructed and installed 70 Holloway pipe organs in churches throughout the country, working until his short illness. His first organ, Opus No. 1, was built in his garage and installed in his own church, St. Christopher Episcopal of Carmel, Indiana.

Edward H. Holloway (1925–2005)
A Remembrance by John Goulding

When I first met Ed Holloway, he was a representative for the Reuter Organ Company. Ed had begun his relationship with Reuter as a result of need. In 1949 he was playing tenor saxophone in a big band, and his group had become stranded in a snow storm near Lawrence, Kansas. Given the dismal situation, the band literally disbanded on the spot. Based on Ed’s prior organ building experience with his grandfather, he contacted the Reuter Organ Company in Lawrence and applied for a job. By the early 1950s, he had returned to his native Indianapolis and had established Edward H. Holloway Organ Company, servicing local instruments and serving as Reuter’s regional representative. In 1959, I answered an advertisement that Ed had placed in The Diapason, and I came to Indianapolis to join E. H. Holloway Company to help install Reuter organs.
Ed had an incipient idea, based somewhat on the burgeoning influence of the neo-Baroque movement, that the time was right for a new slider chest action with remote key action. His long-term goal was to establish a shop to build organs featuring these slider chests. He and I were both attending St. Christopher’s Episcopal Church in Carmel, and the church had no organ at the time. We decided to put Ed’s concept into action, and we built a one-manual instrument in his garage in the evenings. We donated our time and Ed donated the materials and pipework. With this modest success, Ed sold a two-manual organ to Speedway Christian Church just outside of Indianapolis. With the successful installation of this organ, Ed realized that the new organ work was to be the mainstay of the company, and he broke off the relationship with the Reuter Organ Company. In the succeeding years, the company produced over seventy instruments, over half of which were in Indiana. Through all of this, Ed was an interesting mixture of visionary and opportunist. He understood the importance of the simplicity of the slider chest on the organ reform movement. He attended the first organizational meeting of what was to become the American Institute of Organbuilders. He maintained a connection between his performer’s training as a saxophonist and his occupation as an instrument builder. His business savvy and his natural charisma allowed him to sell his ideas and his organ designs to organ builders and church committees alike. With his passing, the organ world has lost a significant, if under-recognized, member of its community.

Janny van Wering, Dutch harpsichordist, died in her home in Amsterdam, the Netherlands, on March 1. She was the first person ever to receive a harpsichord degree in the Netherlands and became one of the country’s most prominent harpsichordists—second only to Gustav Leonhardt—until her retirement in 1974; in 1936, a newspaper called her “our Dutch harpsichordist.”
Janny van Wering was born on July 30, 1909 in Oude Pekela in the province of Groningen in the north of the Netherlands. She left school in 1925 in order to study piano at the Conservatory of Amsterdam. At her graduation recital in 1931, Sem Dresden, the director of the school and a well-known music theorist, was so impressed with van Wering’s Bach playing that he suggested that she study the harpsichord. Dresden had previously invited French harpsichordist Pauline Aubert to teach a two-year course for pianists in Amsterdam and had subsequently appointed Richard Boer as professor of harpsichord. Ms. van Wering became Boer’s first student, but distrusting her teacher’s harpsichord expertise, she went to Paris a few months before her graduation recital and took a handful of lessons with Aubert; afterwards, Mr. Boer generously admitted that she played “quite differently.” On Boer’s suggestion, Ms. van Wering’s recital included the Concerto by Manuel de Falla, which was practically new at the time. A scholarship allowed her to continue her studies in Paris with Aubert for a few months (unlike so many harpsichordists of her generation, Janny van Wering never studied with Wanda Landowska—neither had Aubert).
In the 1930s and ’40s, Ms. van Wering was practically the only harpsichordist in the Netherlands. She played numerous recitals and was a concerto soloist in works like Bach’s Fifth Brandenburg Concerto and Haydn’s Concerto in D Major. After World War II, she became harpsichordist for the Dutch Radio Union and the Radio Chamber Orchestra (1945–69) and was appointed Professor of Harpsichord at the Royal Conservatory in the Hague (1947–74). Later, she became a member of the Netherlands Chamber Orchestra (1955–75) and also taught at the Conservatory of Rotterdam (1957–74). With the Netherlands Chamber Orchestra, she traveled internationally and recorded Bach’s Fifth Brandenburg Concerto with violinist/conductor Szymon Goldberg and flautist Hubert Barwahser. She also recorded Bach’s concerto for four harpsichords with Gustav Leonhardt and the Leonhardt Consort (with Leonhardt’s teacher Eduard Müller and Leonhardt student Anneke Uittenbosch). Ms. van Wering played in a variety of chamber groups, including the Telemann Trio with the young Frans Brüggen. Although she was literally Miss Harpsichord in Dutch music life for forty years, she herself always considered harpsichord playing a “luxury job” (in the 1950s, she still frequently played the piano for radio broadcasts) and was concerned about the younger generation of harpsichordists, who concentrated exclusively on that instrument.
After retiring from the stage in 1974, Ms. van Wering rarely played the harpsichord. She became an avid concertgoer, but not of Baroque music. She also returned to the old love of her teenage years, classics, reading/translating Latin or Greek for an hour every day.
—Jan-Piet Knijff
Queens College/CUNY

Nunc Dimittis

Grigg Thompson Fountain died in Albuquerque on February 14. He was 97 years old. Born in October 1918, in Bishopville, South Carolina, he attended Wake Forest College for a year and received a B.A. in music from Furman University in 1939. He earned B.M. and M.M. degrees in church music and organ from Yale University (1943), studying with Luther Noss, and studied organ privately with Arthur Poister (1945) and Marcel Dupré (1946). Drafted into the army in 1943, he received an honorable discharge within a year (due to poor eyesight). His training company was one of the first to land on Normandy beaches on June 6, 1944. He studied Baroque organ literature with Helmut Walcha in Germany on a Fulbright Fellowship in 1953–54. From 1946–1961 he taught at Oberlin Conservatory of Music during which time he worked with Robert Shaw. While at Oberlin, he met, taught, and then married Helen Erday in 1949.

In 1961 he was appointed professor of organ and church music in the School of Music at Northwestern University. He also served as organist and choirmaster at Northwestern’s Alice Millar Chapel. Fountain retired as emeritus in August 1986; within five months of retiring he was asked to come out of retirement and serve as interim organist, choir director, and consultant. He served there from 1987–89. (See Marilyn Biery’s compilation of 90th-birthday tributes to Grigg Fountain in the July 2010 issue of The Diapason.)

Grigg and Helen Erday Fountain celebrated their 60th wedding anniversary on April 2, 2009. Helen passed away on October 12, 2009. Grigg Fountain is survived by his children Bruce Fountain (Min Jung), John Fountain, Drew Fountain, and Suzanne Fountain Phillips; eight grandchildren, and one great grandchild. 

Nikolaus Harnoncourt died March 5 in St. Georgen im Attergau, Austria. He was 86. Born in Berlin, he was raised in Graz, Austria, and studied music in Vienna. Harnoncourt was cellist with the Vienna Symphony Orchestra from 1952 to 1969. In 1953 he established the Concentus Musicus Wien, which explored Renaissance and baroque performance traditions through performances and recordings using period instruments. Most notable among these are the complete Bach church cantatas and Monteverdi’s three surviving operas. Harnoncourt moved on to later repertoire, including Haydn, Mozart, Schubert, and Bruckner, conducting modern-instrument orchestras such as the Concertgebouw Orchestra and the Chamber Orchestra of Europe. His range of repertoire gradually extended to the 20th century, with works of Bartók, Berg, and Gershwin (Porgy and Bess, recorded 2009).

Harnoncourt taught performance practice and the study of historical instruments at Salzburg’s Mozarteum since 1972. His scholarly publications include The Musical Dialogue: Thoughts on Monteverdi, Bach, and Mozart (Amadeus Press, 1989) and Baroque Music Today: Music as Speech (Amadeus Press, 1988). He leaves a legacy of more than 500 recordings, with highlights including a Beethoven symphony cycle with the Chamber Orchestra of Europe (Warner Classics). 

Peter Frederic Williams, 78, noted organist, harpsichordist, and authority on the life and music of Johann Sebastian Bach, died March 20. Born May 14, 1937, in Wolverhampton, England, he became a choirboy at St. Leonard’s Church, Bilston. He studied music at St. John’s College, Cambridge, where his PhD degree focused on the church organ in Georgian England. He was appointed lecturer in music at the University of Edinburgh, where he was also curator of the Russell Collection of early music instruments. In 1982, he became the first professor of performance practice in England. He was appointed professor music, university organist, and chair of the department of music for Duke University, Durham, North Carolina, in 1985. Ten years later, he accepted a senior position at the University of Cardiff. In retirement, he continued an active career in writing. Among the many books he authored are: The European Organ: 1450–1850, A New History of the Organ From the Greeks to the Present Day, The Organ in Western Culture: 750-1250, and J. S. Bach: A Life in Music. He passed away hours after reading the final proofs of his last book on Bach. Peter Williams is survived by his wife, Rosemary Williams, their two sons, and a daughter and a son from a previous marriage.

The Diapason’s Harpsichord Editor since 1969, Larry Palmer is author of the pioneering book, Harpsichord in America: A Twentieth-Century Revival, published by Indiana University Press in 1989 (paperback second edition, 1993). Of six international advisors for the Berlin commemoration, two were Americans: Teri Noel Towe (New York) and Palmer (Dallas). Poster and postcard images for the exhibition featured an anonymous caricature belonging to Palmer, the gift of Momo Aldrich, first secretary to the iconic Landowska.

The Power of the Press:
“A Living Legend”
Nicholas Slonimsky (1894–1995), writing about harpsichordist Wanda Landowska for the French journal Disques in 1932, introduced his subject with a three-stanza poem. It begins:

Her fingers on the cembalo
Type out the polyphonic lore
Of Bach’s Inventions—and restore
The true original edition
Unobfuscated by tradition.1
Twelve years later, on the opposite side of the Atlantic, habitually cranky New York music critic Virgil Thomson (1896–1989), reviewed the Polish harpsichordist’s Town Hall concert of 20 November 1944 under the adulatory headline “Definitive Renderings”:

Wanda Landowska’s harpsichord recital of last evening . . . was as stimulating as a needle shower. . . . She played everything better than anybody else ever does. One might almost say, were not such a comparison foolish, that she plays the harpsichord better than anybody else ever plays anything . . .
. . . [Her] playing of the harpsichord . . . reminded one all over again that there is nothing else in the world like it. There does not exist in the world today, nor has there existed in my lifetime, another soloist of this or any other instrument whose work is so dependable, so authoritative, and so thoroughly satisfactory. From all the points of view—historical knowledge, style, taste, understanding, and spontaneous musicality—her renderings of harpsichord repertory are, for our epoch, definitive. Criticism is unavailing against them, has been so, indeed, for thirty years.2
It seems that the divine Wanda had accomplished her objective, half a century in the making, of restoring the harpsichord to a recognized place in the cultural consciousness of music lovers, both in Europe and in the western hemisphere. Her personal style, based on an innate rhythmic certainty, a turn-of-the-century impressionistic use of tonal color, and, not incidentally, her careful perusal of historical source materials had made her name virtually synonymous with the word harpsichord, at least in the collective consciousness of the public.

True Believers:
Expatriated European and Native American Disciples
Landowska’s acolytes dominated those American venues where harpsichords were played: Alice Ehlers (1887–1981), Professor Landowska’s first student in 1913 Berlin, immigrated to the United States and taught for 26 years at the University of Southern California in Los Angeles. Among Ehlers’s fascinating oral history recorded vignettes she noted that Landowska did not talk much in those early lessons, but she relied heavily on playing for her students. Later, in Ehlers’s own teaching, at least one anecdote retold by her student Malcolm Hamilton (1932–2003) showed that Ehlers was less than impressed at his derivative details copied from Landowska’s style. When Hamilton added an unwritten trill to the subject of a Bach fugue Ehlers stopped him to ask why. “I heard a recording by Wanda Landowska,” he began. Madame Ehlers interrupted brusquely, “Wanda Landowska was a genius. You and I, Malcolm, we are not geniuses—‘spaacially you!”3
Two more Landowska students holding American academic posts were Marie Zorn (b. 1907?), who promoted the Landowskian style in her harpsichord teaching at Indiana University from 1958 until 1976, and Putnam Aldrich (1904–1975), who married Wanda’s own personal secretary Madeleine Momot in 1931 (with a somewhat-reconciled Landowska as witness for the bride). Eventually “Put” settled his young family in northern California, where he established a prestigious doctoral program in early music at Stanford University.
In concert halls, Madame’s final brilliant students, Rafael Puyana (born 1931), a South American of blazing virtuosity, and Texas-born Paul Wolfe (born 1929), both built solo careers in the decade following their teacher’s death.
In 1961 Puyana played a concert at the Eastman School of Music in Rochester, New York, during my first year there as a doctoral student. Rafael, the scion of a wealthy family, toured the country with a Pleyel harpsichord (the instrument of choice for Landowska’s students) and a personal driver. His Eastman recital was a dashing and colorful evocation of a Landowska program, including kaleidoscopic changes of registration; a repertoire firmly grounded in the major Bach works; but with at least one non-Landowska addition: his own harpsichord transcription of a Canción for piano by the Catalan composer Frederico Mompou.
Paul Wolfe, not from a moneyed family, set out to make his name through recordings. I came to know him when Nick Fritsch of Lyrichord Records decided to reissue a number of their 1950s vinyl issues on compact discs and asked me to write an introductory article explaining harpsichord pedals. Wolfe’s instruments—a 1907 Pleyel of wooden construct and a large concert instrument completed in 1958 by the young northeastern builders Frank Rutkowski and Richard Robinette—as well as programs that featured 17th-century works by Frescobaldi and the English virginalists, Spanish music, and all eight of the 1720 Handel Suites—presented both facile young fingers and an expanding repertory of early keyboard music to the American harpsichord scene.

A Contrarian’s View of Landowska
During the autumnal years of Landowska’s career, critics of her playing style were not legion. But one composer-critic who did not idolize the High Priestess of the Harpsichord was neo-classicist composer Robert Evett (1922–1975). In a 1952 piece for The New Republic, Evett wrote:

Mme. Landowska has seduced the brighter part of the American public into believing that she offers it an authentic reading of Bach and his predecessors. What this lady actually uses is a modern Pleyel harpsichord, an instrument that she employs as a sort of dispose-all. . . .
After fifteen years of incredulous listening, I am finally convinced that this woman kicks all the pedals in sight when she senses danger ahead. When she sits down to play a Bach fugue, I go through all the torments that a passenger experiences when he is being driven over a treacherous mountain road by an erratic driver, and when she finally finishes the thing it is almost a pleasure to relax into nausea.4
A Different Aesthetic:
Ralph Kirkpatrick
Ralph Kirkpatrick (1911–1984), funded by a post-graduate John Knowles Paine Traveling Fellowship from Harvard University, set off for Europe in the fall of 1931 to hone his harpsichord playing skills. As described in his memoirs,5 the pre-eminent American harpsichordist of his generation had a difficult relationship with the priestess of St-Leu, eventually running off to Berlin for coaching and consolation with another Landowska student, the more congenial Eta Harich-Schneider (1897–1986). Kirkpatrick’s public playing, beginning with concerts and recordings during the 1930s, sounded distinctly unlike Landowska’s in its conscious avoidance of excessive registration changes and its near-metronomic regularity. Teri Noel Towe’s description of Kirkpatrick’s style, printed as a “disclaimer” in the compact disc reissue of these early solo recordings for Musicraft Records, puts it this way:

Some listeners confuse Ralph Kirkpatrick’s tenacious and unswerving commitment to the composer’s intentions with dullness and mistake his exquisite attention to detail and technical accuracy for dryness. These detractors would do well to listen again. There is a special beauty and unique warmth to Kirkpatrick’s sometimes austere but always direct, ‘no nonsense’ performances; his interpretations are always superbly conceived, often transcendent, and occasionally hypnotic. . . .6
For a balanced evaluation of Kirkpatrick the harpsichordist, one needs to sample some later examples from his extensive discography. A 1959 Deutsche Grammophon Archiv recording of Bach played on a Neupert instrument presents quite another aural document of a decidedly non-austere artist. And by 1973 when I experienced Kirkpatrick’s deeply-moving playing of Bach’s Goldberg Variations at the Rothko Chapel in Houston (Texas), I reported in The Diapason that “Kirkpatrick played magnificently with a prodigious technical command of the work as well as with spacious feeling for the overall architecture . . .”7
At the very end of a more than five-decade career, and now totally blind, the aged master could allow his innate musical sensitivity to triumph. Despite his end-of-career tongue-in-cheek comments about preferring the piano, the Yale professor was the most highly regarded and recorded native harpsichordist in the United States during the period of Landowska’s American residency.
Other noted American players of Kirkpatrick’s generation included Yella Pessl (1906–1991) and Sylvia Marlowe (1908–1981). Marlowe’s first instrument was a true Landowska Pleyel, by this time painted white, the better to be seen on the revolving stage of New York City’s Rainbow Room, where Sylvia played jazz arrangements of classical favorites under the catchy rubric Lavender and New Lace. Deeply influenced by Landowska’s playing, encountered while the New Yorker was studying with Nadia Boulanger in Paris, Marlowe’s 1959 solo Bach recording for Decca demonstrates how much Madame’s long musical shadow dominated the American harpsichord scene.
Eventually Ms. Marlowe chose to play harpsichords built by the American maker John Challis, moving subsequently to those of Challis’s apprentice William Dowd (with lid-paintings by her own husband, the artist Leonid [Berman]). Non-night-club recital repertoire included 18th-century classics, soon augmented extensively by commissions to prominent living composers. Thus, important works by Ned Rorem and Elliott Carter, to cite only two, came into being through Marlowe’s sponsorship. Together with the impressive catalog of similar commissions from the Swiss harpsichordist Antoinette Vischer (1909–1973), Marlowe’s initiatives helped to provide the harpsichord with an extensive, new twentieth-century musical voice.
Influenced by Kirkpatrick during student days at Yale, Fernando Valenti (1926–1990) switched from piano to harpsichord, and also played important new works by Vincent Persichetti (that composer’s First Harpsichord Sonata composed in 1952) and Mel Powell (Recitative and Toccata Percossa). However, Valenti made his name primarily as the most exciting player of Domenico Scarlatti’s sonatas and specifically as the first harpsichordist to record such a large number of them—359 individual works performed on his Challis harpsichord in a series of albums for Westminster Records. In 1951 he was appointed the first harpsichord professor at New York’s Juilliard School. Several didactic books, published late in Valenti’s career, are as colorful and insightful as his playing. Who could resist a chuckle at words such as these?

Many years ago I promised myself that I would never put in print anything that even vaguely resembled a ‘method’ for harpsichord playing and this is it.8
One of the best-known harpsichordists to study privately with Valenti was Berlin-born Igor Kipnis (1930–2002), son of the prominent bass opera singer Alexander Kipnis. The family moved to the United States in 1938, where both Kipnises became familiar names in the classical music arena. Igor was particularly noted for his comprehensive and innovative repertory, recorded extensively. His playing was thoroughly representative of a more objective style of harpsichord performance.

Winds (or Strings and Quills) of Change?
One of the great services rendered by Kirkpatrick was his fervent advocacy for the historically inclined instruments of Frank Hubbard and William Dowd. As the years went by, these musical machines emulated ever more closely those from earlier centuries, albeit with some decidedly 20th-century materials, such as the plastics used for jacks and plectra. But with keyboards built to various baroque dimensions; sensitive, light actions; and registers deployed in a way that an 18th-century composer might have expected; together with the absence, for the most part, of the sixteen-foot register and pedals, these light and agile instruments gave the new generation of players sensitive tools for performing the music of the past. Emulating Hubbard and Dowd, a number of builders, in Boston and other American venues, and throughout the world, joined the “surge to the past,” and thereby changed both the dynamic and the expected sounds of harpsichord revival instruments.
Among Kirkpatrick’s allies in promoting these new “old” instruments were two Fullers—his student Albert (1926–2007) and the not-related David (born 1927), and harpsichordist/conductors Miles Morgan and William Christie. As the 1960s gave way to the 1970s, nearly every emerging teacher and player in the country seemed to be joining the pedal-less crowd. In 1966 I met Dr. Joseph Stephens and played the Hubbard and Dowd harpsichord in his Baltimore (Maryland) home. Shortly thereafter I ordered my own first Dowd double. It was delivered at the beginning of January 1969. As has happened for so many players in our small musical world, that sensitive instrument taught me as much as had the memorable hours spent studying with two of the finest teachers imaginable: Isolde Ahlgrimm (at the Salzburg Mozarteum), and Gustav Leonhardt (during two memorable July participations in his master classes at the annual Haarlem Summer Organ Academies).

Influential European
Artist-Teachers
Both of these superb artists made significant contributions to harpsichord playing in the United States: Ahlgrimm (1914–1995) through her teaching in Salzburg, Vienna, and during semester-long guest professorships at Oberlin and Southern Methodist University, as well as several American concert tours organized by managers, but aided and attended by her grateful students. Until recently, Ahlgrimm’s place in the story of the 20th-century harpsichord revival has been little celebrated. With the publication of Peter Watchorn’s major study Isolde Ahlgrimm, Vienna and the Early Music Revival,9 that deficiency in our history has been rectified!
Leonhardt (born 1928), surely the most recorded of post-Landowska harpsichordists, has influenced virtually every harpsichordist from the second half of the 20th-century forward. His students seem to be everywhere. Even the most cursory of enumerations would include many of the leading teachers in the U.S: Oberlin’s first full-time professor of harpsichord Lisa Crawford; Michigan’s Edward Parmentier; Boston’s John Gibbons; University of New York at Stony Brook’s Arthur Haas; Florida State’s Karyl Louwenaar; Illinois’ Charlotte Mattax; and, particularly during the 1970s and ’80s, my own large group of harpsichord major students at Southern Methodist University. In the spirit of the early music excitement of those decades, SMU conferred his first doctorate on Leonhardt in 1984, citing the Dutch harpsichordist’s advocacy of “performance on period instruments,” as well as his “commitment to both stylistic authority and artistic sensitivity in recreating music of the past.”
To this day, more than 25 years after the conferral of that honorary degree, Leonhardt still refers to me in communications as his “Doktor-Vater.” Whereas Ahlgrimm referred to herself as a biological phenomenon since she “got more children the older she became,” Leonhardt’s humorous salutation presents me with a similar phenomenon: the “son” as father to the “father.” At any rate, I am pleased to have Dr. Leonhardt as my most distinguished graduate!
Ah yes, students—the new generators of harpsichord playing in America. Too many to list, but perhaps one graced with multiple “A’s” may serve as representative—Andrew Appel, American, who completed his doctoral studies with Juilliard harpsichord professor Albert Fuller in 1983, and now carries on that line from his teacher, who had been a pupil of Ralph Kirkpatrick, who was . . . and here we could circle back to the beginning of this essay. May Andrew Appel represent the achievements of so many of our fine young players: the late Scott Ross, the with-it Skip Sempé, the sensitive Michael Sponseller, the delightful teaching colleague Barbara Baird—Americans, all!
Ultimately all of us are indebted to those European “explorers” who have provided our inspiration and training: French/English Arnold Dolmetsch, Austrian Isolde Ahlgrimm, Dutch Gustav Leonhardt: all contributors to the variety and richness of the harpsichord’s presence in our contemporary musical life. And our Polish mother, Wanda Landowska: that vibrant musician who has brought us together for this celebration of her musical legacy.

Some Information about Added Aural Examples
This paper was presented at the Berlin Musical Instrument Museum on November 14, 2009, during a symposium in conjunction with the exhibition Die Dame mit dem Cembalo [The Lady with the Harpsichord], in commemoration of the 50th anniversary of Wanda Landowska’s death. The topic was suggested by the museum’s curator Martin Elste, who organized the event. To remain within an imposed time limit, I chose to include only seven short recorded examples, each one a performance of the same final 25 measures from the third (Presto) movement of J. S. Bach’s Italian Concerto (BWV 971)—with an individual duration of between 30 and 40 seconds.
The first example demonstrated one of the most unforgettable of all my musical experiences: Landowska’s unexpected slight agogic hesitation between top and bottom notes of the climactic downward octave leap in measure 199, the last return of that wonderfully energetic opening theme. Taken from her 1936 recording for EMI [reissued in Great Recordings of the Century, CDH 7610082], it served as an aural measuring rod with which to compare the following recordings, made “after” Landowska.
Example Two presented the young Ralph Kirkpatrick playing his early 20th-century Dolmetsch-Chickering harpsichord, captured in a 1939 recording for Musicraft, digitized on Pearl [Great Virtuosi of the Harpsichord, volume II, GEMM CD 9245]. Example Three: Kirkpatrick again, 20 years later, recorded in a thrillingly theatrical performance played on a powerhouse Neupert instrument for Archiv [198 032] (LP).
Example Four: Sylvia Marlowe, like Landowska, played on an instrument by Pleyel, recorded in 1959 for Decca [DL 710012] (LP).
Example Five: Leading Bach authority Isolde Ahlgrimm, recorded 1975, playing her 1972 David Rubio harpsichord, recorded by Philips [6580 142] (LP).
Example Six: Gustav Leonhardt utilized the sound of an actual 18th-century historic instrument for his 1976 recording on a 1728 Hamburg harpsichord by Christian Zell. Seon [Pro Arte PAL-1025] (LP).
Example Seven: Andrew Appel played a 1966 harpsichord by Rutkowski and Robinette in his 1987 recording for Bridge Records [BCD 9005), concluding the musical examples in just under four minutes! Fortunately for the word-weary, the next, and final, presentation of the two-day seminar was given by British record collector extraordinaire Peter Adamson, comprising a fascinating sound and image survey of early harpsichord recordings.

Lee T. Lovallo is assistant professor of music at National University, Sacramento, and is also active in building and restoring pipe organs and in maintaining harpsichords. Dr. Lovallo serves as the secretary for the Western Early Keyboard Association and is the organist at St. Andrew’s Episcopal Church, Antelope, California, where he plays a historical-style meantone organ. Most recently he was heard in a program of organ ricercari at a symposium devoted to the music of Jacques Buus (ca. 1500–1565).

The stately leaded glass Venetian Ballroom of the late Gothic revival Berkeley City Club, not far from the university, was the site of a respectful and altogether moving program in honor of a great musician and friend, Gustav Leonhardt. On a beautiful afternoon in June 2012, more than a hundred musicians, scholars, instrument builders, music lovers, and friends from all over the United States gathered to hear tributes spoken and performed by students of Leonhardt, whose inspired teaching, sensitive playing, and boundless enthusiasm over a 60-year career touched many and influenced not only his students but also the direction of early music performance throughout the world. The well-organized and very well-attended tribute as part of the Early Music America Berkeley Festival and Exhibition was inspired and presented by former Leonhardt student Elaine Thornburgh and others of the Western Early Keyboard Association (WEKA), and by Gilbert Martinez of MusicSources, a Bay Area center for historically informed performance.

The program began with an eloquent appreciation by Lisa Goode Crawford, who spoke for many of Leonhardt’s students in praising the qualities of his instruction: his emphasis on expressive playing—how to make dynamic shapes, how to vary the degree of legato, and how to think about Baroque music and its affects. The influence of Leonhardt on the early music scene in the United States was documented in a program booklet that gave the names of 55 students—a partial listing of many more—who had studied with him in the Netherlands. Many of his pupils, now well known in their own right, have carried his ideas in turn to countless music students and audiences in America and beyond.

As is most fitting for such a program, the tone of which was marked by deeply felt respect and affection, the centerpiece was an hour of works by late Renaissance and Baroque masters—Sweelinck, Froberger, Louis Couperin, Frescobaldi, Forqueray, and Bach, to name a few—performed on harpsichord and spinet, but also including the Trio Sonata from Bach’s Musical Offering for flute, violin, harpsichord, and viola da gamba. In all, a dozen of Leonhardt’s harpsichord students played what one listener described as “some of the most soulful, mournful, and joyous” music he had ever heard, the effect of which was no doubt heightened by the sensitive request to withhold applause until the end of the program. Keyboardists performing were Elaine Funaro, Webb Wiggins, Lenora McCroskey, Tamara Loring, Linda Burman-Hall, Elaine Thornburgh, Elisabeth Wright, JungHae Kim, Lisa Goode Crawford, Charlotte Mattax Moersch, Jillon Stoppels Drupree, and Margaret Irwin-Brandon. The Trio Sonata included superb contributions by Stephen Schultz, Anthony Martin, Joshua Lee, and Lisa Goode Crawford. In conclusion, the gathered musicians and listeners sang and performed together the final chorale from Bach’s The Passion According to St. John, “Lord, may thy dear angel at mine end bear my soul unto the lap of Abraham,” an apposite reflection of Leonhardt’s own faith.

Following the performance, many of the performers and audience gathered close by at Musical Offering, a cafe and CD store, for a reception to share memories and stories before continuing with the rest of this penultimate day of the Berkeley Festival and Exhibition, a day that ended fittingly with a memorable performance of Bach’s Trauerode by the American Bach Soloists under Jeffrey Thomas.

In a lengthy remembrance written for the program booklet, Alan Curtis, another student of Leonhardt and now a renowned scholar, teacher, and performer himself, spoke not only of the Dutch master’s strongly held but not immutable opinions on music but also of Leonhardt’s other passions—collecting furniture, porcelain, Delftware, and silver, reading Thomas Mann and Somerset Maugham, appreciating the art of Cezanne—a devotion that is reflected in many of his students’ interests in the humanities and the visual arts. Alan Curtis also wrote of Leonhardt’s sense of humor: an improvised sonata that he described as possibly one of Scarlatti’s only because he “didn’t know all of them,” and, following a masterclass he gave in Texas, his asking a waitress in a restaurant there for a “Fro-burger.” 

Among the many other recollections shared in the program were Elaine Funaro’s listening to a “very personal and moving rendition of the Gibbons pavan” played by Leonhardt at his home, which experience she returned by playing the pavan for the audience in Berkeley. No doubt Elisabeth Wright’s praise for Leonhardt’s teaching is shared by all his students: “It was an extraordinary education by an extraordinary man who left an indelible mark on us all.” For myself, who came to appreciate Leonhardt through his recordings of organ music, particularly the works of Sweelinck, there could be no more eloquent testimony to Leonhardt’s art than that provided on June 8, 2012 by Webb Wiggins’s immensely sensitive playing of Sweelinck’s heartfelt Pavana Lachrimae, a tearful and noble pavan indeed.