In Memoriam E. & G. G. Hook, Opus 253 (1859–2005)

John Bishop

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.

 

Boston, Massachusetts

by Malcolm Wechsler

Wednesday, August 16

Imagine this. A church packed to the rafters with organists
from around the country, parishioners, and Boston organ lovers. An organ in a
stunning case fills the west gallery of the church. The chairs that fill the
nave have all been turned around so the audience can sit and gaze up into the
balcony. A priest steps forward to the railing and says simply, "Good
evening. I'm Fr. Thomas Carroll, rector of this church," followed by what
can only be described as tumultuous applause, shouting, and a standing ovation!
Do this on a regular basis, and seminaries will be overflowing with candidates
for the priesthood--but of course there is a special tale to tell about this
visceral reaction, and Fr. Tom Carroll, organist and OHS member, is the
deserving symbol of a happy ending to an almost sad story. It was in 1986 that
organists and OHS members learned from the organ journals, and later from
mainstream media, that this struggling parish was preparing to make serious
changes to its church. The interior of the building would be sufficiently
reduced in size (to make way for rentable office space) that its landmark
instrument would be rendered unusable. The nave would be vastly forshortened,
leaving a small "worship center." The great space would nevermore be
seen--the great organ would never sound into its intended space again. The OHS,
and later, architectural conservation and preservation groups in the city,
managed to convince the church to reverse its plans. Three ultimately removable
office structures were indeed built in the side aisles of the west end of the
nave, but the word is that plans are afoot to remove them soon. What is left is
by no means shabby. It's a glorious place. In other good news, this parish is
now growing and thriving, with many new members to enjoy the beautiful
architectural and musical treasures left to it by earlier generations.

In part, the OHS exists to honor, protect, and present great
instruments, so perhaps it is at the Church of the Im-maculate Conception that
we see this function at its best. It is therefore fitting that the convention
began and ended with concerts on E. & G.G. Hook Opus 322 (1863) / E. &
G.G. Hook & Hastings Opus 1959 (1902), played by two great musicians who
have supported the work of the Society and been heard in many conventions over
the years. Peter Sykes began the week, which ended with Thomas Murray.

When the pandemonium settled, Fr. Carroll offered a warm
welcome, after which Jonathan Ambrosino, president of the Society (and also
editor of this year's Organ Handbook and Convention Program), officially opened
the convention and introduced Scot Huntington, this year's convention chairman.
Peter Sykes then assumed the bench, accompanied by his registrants, Michael
Murray on the right and Stuart Forster on the left.

A lovely feature of OHS convention recitals/organ
demonstrations is the inclusion of a hymn in every program. It makes perfect
sense to hear instruments doing one of the jobs for which they were designed.
Sykes's chosen tune was Helmsley to the Advent text "Lo, He comes with
clouds descending"--what a fabulous big, rich, unison sound we made in a
splendid acoustic, to a rich, varied, and totally supportive accompaniment.

The first work on the program was Mendelssohn, Prelude and
Fugue in C Minor, op. 37, no. 1. The combination of Peter Sykes, Felix
Mendelssohn, the great Hook and Hook & Hastings, and the acoustic of
"The Immaculate," conspired for a most satisfying experience. From
Annés de Pélerinage of Liszt, we heard two Sykes transcriptions,
Ave Maria von Arcadelt (which demonstrated some of the lovely sounds of this
instrument), and Sposalizio (betrothal), based on a painting of Raphael. Next,
Six Fugues on B-A-C-H, by Robert Schumann. Played together, these works become
something of a satisfying larger sonata. After intermission, Grand
Prélude (from a set of eleven dedicated to Franck) by Charles-Valentin
Alkan, and Franck's Grande Pièce Symphonique (dedicated to Charles
Alkan). Peter Sykes played this spacious and wonderful work with both breadth
and fire.

Thursday, August 17

A marathon day

The day began with a lecture, "Time, Taste, and the
Organ Case," tailored here by Matthew Bellocchio to include some of the
famous Boston organs heard at the convention.

Then on to the bus at about 10:15 to thread our way through
New York-style traffic to Most Holy Redeemer Church, East Boston. Well worth
it! Occasionally at OHS conventions, the program book says "Program to be
announced." This is never the result of indecision, disorganization, or
laziness. It's a signal that at any given moment, up to and including the first
notes of the recital, there is doubt about what will and what will not play on
the organ! In pretty bad shape, this instrument is, nonetheless, worth the
pilgrimage. Not only is it the largest remaining instrument by William Simmons
(1823-1876), but it is also the "oldest extant two-manual organ with a
detached, reversed console," quoting from the Organ Handbook. Kevin Birch
teaches at the University of Maine School of Performing Arts in Orono, and is director
of music at St. John Roman Catholic Church in Bangor, where he has developed an
important musical program, including the preservation of the church's 1860 E.
& G.G. Hook organ. For the convention, he developed a completely satisfying
program which demonstrated the capabilities of the instrument in its present
condition. The instrument is so dusty and dirty that it has not been possible
to tune it completely for a long time, so avoidance of upperwork was the order
of the day. There was lots of foundation tone, and excellent stuff it is, too.
He began with a fine performance of the Bach Pastorale, the perfect piece for
the circumstances, showing a few small but distinguished combinations of
sounds. All of the combinations were announced before he began the work. Next,
three beautiful organ pieces by Samuel Coleridge-Taylor, Arietta, Elegy, and
Melody, all from 1898. Birch found the perfect solution to the problems of the
organ's state of health by calling on a 'cellist friend, Jonathan Cortolano, to
play the melody lines, requiring that the meager functioning voices of the
organ play only accompaniment for the most part. With a really beautiful 'cello
tone, this enterprise was a great success. 

Birch had promised to demonstrate some of the notes of the
Oboe that were working, and did so charmingly with a bit of Jesu Bambino by
Pietro Yon. After this, an early 18th-century tune (Sweet Sacrament) found in
Worship III to the text "Jesus, my Lord, my God, my All." We had a
great sing, and took full advantage of a very nice harmonization. This is the
organ upon which, in 1975, Thomas Murray recorded the Mendelssohn sonatas,
recently reissued on CD. It is only through many volunteer hours by Richard
Lahaise that we were able to hear any of this marvellous but sadly neglected
instrument.

Next, on to Most Precious Blood Roman Catholic Church in
Hyde Park, to hear Stephen Roberts on the 1892 Carlton Michell instrument, much
of which was probably built by Hunter in London, and which was originally in
St. Stephen's Church in the South End of Boston. Originally tubular pneumatic,
it was electrified by Richard Lahaise when moved to Precious Blood in 1956 and
fitted with a new console. Franz Schmidt, Toccata for Organ (1924); the hymn
Ave Verum Corpus to a 14th-century plainsong tune; Everett Titcomb, Communion
Meditation on "Ave Verum Corpus." It was helpful to have sung the
entire plainsong melody before hearing Titcomb's work based upon it. The
program ended with the brilliant and brilliantly-played Allegro Vivace from the
Widor 5th Symphony.

Then, on to Christ Church Unity (Sears Chapel) in Brookline
for a fine recital by Andrew Scanlon, winner of the 1999 Boston Chapter AGO
Competition for Young Organists, and a student of Ann Labounsky at Duquesne. He
also has studied with John Walker, John Skelton, and David Craighead. Currently
organist and choir director at Emmanuel Lutheran Church in Export,
Pennsylvania, he was one of the six young organists chosen to play at the New
York National in 1996. This Sears Chapel has a rather handsome exterior and a
somewhat disappointing interior. The organ is chambered in the west gallery,
with an attractive facade with stenciled pipes, but is a smallish gem (nineteen
stops) being asked to speak down a rather long carpeted nave filled with
thickly cushioned pews. It is all a bit distant, sadly, but the instrument, E.
& G.G. Hook from 1862, is intact and well cared for, and was presented on
this occasion with the handsome OHS plaque. Bach, Prelude and Fugue in C Major
(545); Mendelssohn, Second Sonata: Grave and Adagio; Trumpet Dialogue from the
Couperin Convent Mass; Allein Gott by Dudley Buck; a Rondeau and Deo Gracias by
Joseph Wilcox Jenkins (b. 1928), lovely, modal, spirited stuff, perhaps
somewhat in the Hindemith mode.

The afternoon ended with two rather amazing events. At the
United Parish in Brookline we were all impressed by Peter Krasinski and
Aeolian-Skinner opus 885 and much more. First, we were welcomed in a recording
by Ernest Skinner himself, apparently from a welcoming speech he made to an AGO
gathering at some point very late in his life. It was loud and clear, and a
stunning opening, with no warning whatsoever! But there was more. After singing
"O God our help" from the hymnal in the pews, there was a program of
two works--not your usual organ recital. First, Peter and the Wolf, transcribed
by Peter Krasinski, narrated by a woman from the church's Board of Deacons who
had earlier graciously received an OHS Plaque for the organ. This was clearly a
new translation from the Russian, beginning more-or-less thusly: "Peter
lifted the heavy rolltop, and threw the switch, activating the great Spencer
blower." And then we had Peter being hustled inside, to escape the evil
Clarinet. And then, with Peter, we cowered in the face of "Evil hunters,
seeking unaltered Skinner organs!" It was all so perfectly done--the
narration was really dramatically delivered, and Peter Krasinski--what to say?
The transcription, the performance, the organ--it was nothing less than
fabulous--requiring a chapter of its own in any history ever written about OHS
Conventions We Have Known. For a bit more icing on an already rich cake, Peter
Krasinski's own transcription of von Suppé's Poet and Peasant Overture.

At the end of the afternoon, the astonishing, amazing--whatever--computer-driven
Boston University Symphonic Organ, hosted by its creator, Nelson Barden. The
whole thing had its genesis in a small Skinner (opus 764) instrument in a
Rockefeller mansion in Greenwich, Connecticut. When the organ was disposed of,
it was to become one of the organic wonders of the world. Further donations of
house and other organs kept the thing growing to its present size, and it now
lives in its permanent home on a great balcony overlooking a large kind of
banqueting hall. On screen, one can see what the computer operator sees on his
monitor up in the balcony: the four keyboards plus a short one for the
pedalboard laid out, surrounded by lists of all the stops available--colored
lights indicate which keys and which stops are playing. We heard a performance,
electronically recorded, of Carlo Curley playing Fiddle Faddle, Edwin Lemare
playing the Bach "Jig" Fugue, and lots of other goodies. An exciting
aspect of this is the ability to reproduce here the many performances committed
to paper rolls in Germany in the 20s and 30s, at a time when sound recording
was not yet totally viable on location, and, of course, the immense resources
of this instrument make possible just about any registrational requirement.
After the great show, most of our large party took advantage of being able to
walk right through this marvel, to see, under glass, the whole thing operating.

After dinner, off to The Mission Church to hear Julian
Wachner on Hutchings Opus 410 of 1897, sounding out of its great west gallery
case into a superb acoustical space. Bach, Pièce d'Orgue; Mendelssohn,
Prelude and Fugue in C Minor; Cantabile from Widor 6th, played on a gorgeous
Oboe; Duruflé Prelude and Fugue on ALAIN. After intermission, we were
driven hastily back to our seats by a fabulous improvised fanfare, using the
splendid, if un-Englishy, Tuba; then the Boston premiere of Les Trés
Riches Heures (An Organ Book of Hours) by Marjorie Merryman--the six movements
are entitled 1. Procession, 2. Dialogues, 3. Cycle of the Year, 4. Rebellion,
5. De Profundis, and 6. Celebrations. The evening ended with "Holy Holy
Holy" to, of course, Nicaea. After the hymn Wachner went into a pretty
wild improvisation on Nicaea.

 

Friday, August 18

Promenade day

Friday began with a lecture by Barbara Owen on "The
Hook Years," not an overstatement when you realize what an enormous number
of instruments that workshop turned out each year in the mid-1800s. Then the
convention traveled to Hook Country, Jamaica Plain, and the lovely yellow home
of Elias Hook. We were split into three groups at this time, so that no church
was overly crowded--this meaning, of course, that each performer had to play
three times. My group began not with a Hook, but with Central Congregational
Church's Aeolian-Skinner opus 946 of 1936, a versatile and effective 14-stop
instrument. It can do anything asked of it and today, it met just the right
player to direct it. Possibly, this organ should not really function as it
does--after all, it is stuffed into a chamber on the north side of the
chancel--but the room is welcoming, and aided by 5≤ of wind pressure and
scaling and voicing to match, it reaches every corner of the room. This should
not suggest to anyone that it is loud--it simply projects very well in all directions.
The organ is entirely enclosed in one swell box. The program by Mark Dwyer: the
chorale Freu dich sehr; Pachelbel, Partitia on "Freu dich sehr";
Sowerby, Arioso; Bach, Trio on "Herr Jesu Christ, dich zu uns wend";
Darke, Fantasy, op. 39; Dupré, Placare Christe servulis. The splendid
playing of Mark Dwyer is no surprise to those who have heard him play. This
organ, on the other hand, was a total surprise: fourteen stops, and look at the
program it played, and all beautifully and essentially authentically!

We walked through pleasant streets with lovely Victorian
houses all around, to First Baptist Church, with its essentially unaltered 1859
Hook, for a concert by Lois Regestein: Hanff, Wär' Gott nicht mit uns
diese Zeit, using a registration which Hook had set as the plenum, just through
2' on the Great, without the mixture; Pinkham, Pastorale on "The Morning
Star"; three Haydn Musical Clock pieces, Minuet, March, and Andantino,
revealing the absolutely beautiful flutes on this organ; Respighi, Prelude on a
chorale of Bach; Ciampa, Agnus Dei (with singer Dianna Daly); Telemann, Trumpet
Tune in D; Brahms, Prelude in G Minor; and a rousing performance of the hymn
"Praise, my soul, the King of Heaven."

Another pleasant walk led to First Parish, Unitarian, for a
program by Gregory Crowell, director of music at Trinity UMC in Grand Rapids
and on the faculty at Grand Valley State University. The organ is E. & G.G.
Hook Opus 171 of 1854. In 1860 Hook added the Choir organ, which was apparently
prepared for in 1854. The program began with the hymn "Spirit of God,
descend upon my heart" to the tune Morecambe, and included the Mendelssohn
Fourth Sonata.

The last venue in Jamaica Plain was St. Thomas Aquinas
Church. Scot Huntington managed to give lots of his time to trying to get this
glorious 1854 Hook (moved to this church in 1898 and somewhat rebuilt by George
Hutchings) playing--it had not been heard in 20 years! This is a major part of
the OHS Convention History--the hours or weeks of time freely given by OHS member
builders to making ill instruments well enough to be heard at conventions. The
organ was permitted to remain there (west gallery) only because it looked so
nice. (It is indeed an unusually attractive case.) The new pastor welcomed the
OHS in a really fine speech that made it clear where his sympathies lie, and he
was roundly cheered. No doubt with his encouragement many parishioners were in
attendance, some of whom had ventured into the balcony for the first time to
see what the organ really looked like. Scot Huntington demonstrated the organ,
an-nouncing registrations as he went along, and even doing a creditable
performance of the "St. Anne Prelude." He then accompanied the hymn
"O worship the King" (Hanover), and many of the attending
parishioners were overwhelmed. The building is not without resonance, and to
hear 400+ musicians filling that room was impressive.

George Bozeman is always a major presence at OHS
conventions, this sometimes taking the form of an organ he has carefully
restored, but most often in the form of an interesting and somewhat unusual
recital. Here, he fulfilled both roles, playing on an 1860 E. & G.G. Hook
(Opus 283) of 32 stops (rebuilt in 1913), which in 1992 had "tonal
re-instatements and recreations; refurbishment and restoration" at the
hands of George Bozeman--at First Congregational Church in Woburn. The program:
Bach, Prelude & Fugue in G Minor (535); C.P.E. Bach, Sonata in A; the hymn,
"Eternal Spirit of the living Christ," to a strong, unnamed, tune by F.
William Voetberg; Franck, Choral in B Minor; four exquisitely registered and
played chorale preludes of Brahms: Herzlich tut mich erfreuen, Schmücke
dich, O wie selig, and Herzlich tut mich verlangen; three selections from the
Bartok Mikrokosmos; and finally Concert Sonata No. 5 in C by Eugene Thayer.

An OHS Boston Weekend

After a fairly energetic and busy Friday, the prospect of a
somewhat more relaxed convention weekend seemed a good one. Saturday began with
Jonathan Ambrosino's lecture entitled "Ernest M. Skinner & G. Donald
Harrison, Retrospective and Review." Ambrosino is president of the
Society, bringing a distinguished background in both communications and
organbuilding, and he is making his strengths very much felt throughout the
organization.

The first concert of the day was by Richard Hill at First
Parish in Arlington, one of the truly great recitals of the convention, on one
of its very best organs--an 1870 Hook (Opus 529) of fifteen stops, moved into
First Parish's fine modern building from a church in Philadelphia. The program
began with a hymn that rather set the tone for the rest of the program,
"Stand up, stand up for Jesus," to the tune Webb. The organ is tucked
in a corner in the front of the church, and has facades on two sides, and the
whole thing resonates like one big soundboard--it really is rich and full, and
beautiful besides. The Triumphal March of Dudley Buck is the kind of spirited
stuff that can really be effective in the hands of a strong and sure player
with spirit to match--really good fun. Then, by Amy Beach, a lovely work,
Prelude on an Old Folk Tune, very Irish sounding. The next piece was the kind
of thing that would keep a congregation around for the postlude, Toccatina by
George E. Whiting (1840-1923). The beginning was a bit reminiscent of the
Lemmens Fanfare. Next, David the King, based on a theme of William Billings, by
Gardner Read--a lament on the death of Absalom. Finally, the grand finale,
Allegro comodo, from Suite in D by Arthur Foote. This work might have suffered
from a lesser performance, but there was nothing lesser about what we heard--a
great ending, to much applause and a quick stand up!

On to Follen Community Church, the oldest church in
Lexington, boasting as one of its ministers Ralph Waldo Emerson. What a
beautiful place and beautiful instrument, both to see and to hear. E. &
G.G. Hook Opus 466 of 1869 was originally in a church in Stoneham, but was
given as a gift and moved to Follen Church in 1995. Erik Suter, with degrees
from both Oberlin and Yale, is now assistant organist and choirmaster at
Washington National Cathedral. The program: Pinkham, "Festive March"
from Music for a Quiet Sunday, which was commissioned by the church to
celebrate the instrument; Mendelssohn, Third Sonata: Sweelinck, Variations on Balletto
del granduca, for which organbuilder John Bishop operated the hand pump, which
really did make a noticeable difference--the wind was rather gentle and supple.
The program ended quietly with the Paul Manz Aria, which featured the Melodia
stop, living up to its name, and toward the end of the piece, an octave up,
where it was ravishing. The final hymn: "Come down, O Love Divine"
(Down Ampney). Suter launched into a quite cathedral-like improvisation on Down
Ampney which sent everyone out very cheerfully indeed.

Sometimes food claims a place on the list of OHS convention
memories. On this Saturday evening, we had an example of this, and what an
example! At 5:30 in the beautiful evening light we boarded a large and very
fast boat for Thompson Island, the history of which is complex and off topic
here, other than to say it is a quite large, hilly, and scenic place from
which, in the right spot, one neither sees nor senses the presence of the big
city so near. I have been to one clambake in my life, a small, private affair,
memorable for wonderful seafood and for good company. This was that experience
writ large; there was no end to the wonderful food. There were various salad
things, baked beans, a wonderful piece of steak, a large pile of steamed clams
and an enormous lobster on a separate plate. We were seated in a great tent,
with some outside places for those who enjoy mosquitos. At the end
style="mso-spacerun: yes">  we hiked down to the dock through the
cool darkness, and after a bit of a wait, our boat appeared to take us back to
the mainland, giving a gorgeous moonlit ride back to Boston Harbor.

On Sunday morning the Annual Meeting of the Society was
scheduled for 8:30. There were reports from all the committees carrying on the
work of the Society, including the Historic Organs Citation Committee, the
superb OHS Archives in a new home in Princeton, the Biggs Fellowship Committee,
the Convention Committee, the Publications Committee, and so much more. At this
convention about a half-dozen plaques were presented to churches that have
recognized the historic significance and musical importance of their
instruments and have continued to maintain them properly. This recognition,
plus the very presence of several hundred musicians in their church coming to
hear the instrument, sends a strong message of support and encouragement. The
Biggs Fellowship is a great program, and its ability to assist interested
people in attending a convention when they might not otherwise be able to do
so, has been greatly enhanced by a major gift from the estate of Peggy Biggs,
the wife of E. Power, who died recently. This year the convention was enriched
by the presence of four Biggs Fellows: Daniel W. Hopkins of Lockeport, Nova
Scotia; Ted Kiefer of Franklinville, New Jersey; Tony Kupina of
Montréal, Québec; and Daniel B. Sanez of Hollywood, California. A
visit to the OHS Archives in Princeton finds one in a place where one could
happily stay for days on end, exploring the amazing riches, holdings unequaled
by any other resource anywhere in the world. Many have studied there helped by
one of the research grants available through OHS. The Archives were bursting at
the seams in the old space in the Westminster Choir College Library, and
through gifts from business and arts organizations and individuals, the sum of
$85,000 was collected to make possible the move to new and spacious quarters.
Confident in the knowledge that OHS is important to all its members, important
enough that they are willing to help the organization financially over and
above the membership fees, a new fund has been established and announced at
this year's annual meeting. This endowment fund will help stabilize the
finances of the organization and enable it to expand its work in a number of
areas where money has been a bit tight. The goal is a half-million dollars, and
amazingly, a small group of officers and close friends of the Society has
already pledged the sum of $58,000. I hope anyone reading this who is not a
member of OHS will consider now joining. Try: . By
the way, next summer's convention will be in Winston-Salem, North Carolina,
June 21-28.

On this Sunday afternoon, there were some opportunities to
visit Cambridge organs and also the astonishing beauties of Mount Auburn
Cemetery, which for American organists and organbuilders, might be a rough
equivalent to an Englishman visiting Poets' Corner in Westminster Abbey. Some
recitals were played in Cambridge, and some churches held special musical
events for conventioneers. I chose to stay close to the hotel before the great
evening event, a concert about which I almost fear to write, so controversial
was it. Catching all the buzz on the walk back to the hotel and in the exhibit
room later, there seemed to be no agreement whatsoever about the instrument,
the player, her registrations, the music she chose--even what she wore! That
Cherry Rhodes is the consummate concert artist cannot be in dispute. Nor can
one deny the historicity and significance of the enormous 1952 Aeolian-Sinner
organ, much upgraded and changed both mechanically and tonally over the years,
but still bearing the stamp of the makers, working under consultant Larry
Phelps. Beyond that, I heard those things that I thought I rather liked being
roundly condemned by some, and those things that I thought I did not like being
roundly praised by others. If nothing else, the organ is a great amusement.
There is much to gaze upon, with all manner of pipes mounted in all kinds of
arrangements. There is nothing to suggest the historic structure of The Pipe
Organ, perhaps even less so than in some of the exposed organs of Walter
style="mso-spacerun: yes">  Holtkamp, Sr. Looking at those, one
usually knew what was where. Not so here in the First Church of Christ,
Scientist, known familiarly as The Mother Church. The great heaps of pipework
are not identifiable without some sort of guidance. The exposed pipework speaks
into an enormous space, seating about eight thousand people, and amazingly, it
projects fairly well, coming to the listener's ear, I think, with the aid of
the various domed shapes in the building. It is capable of gentleness and also
of bombast, all sounding to my ears just a bit on the thin side, and looking at
the pipework, one does have the impression of thin. I am sure I will pay for
this in some way, but I have to say that at the end of the first piece, a large
plenum with tons of mixture ranks in play caused me to say that I thought it
all sounded incredibly electronic.

The program (12 pieces, only two of which I had ever heard)
began with a piece that made use of the spacious layout of the organ, a work by
Frank Ticheli (b. 1958) dedicated in its organ arrangement to Cherry Rhodes.
Pacific Fanfare (1999) began very softly and finally did build up to live up to
its name, exploring the many reeds of various volumes on this instrument. This
was followed by the Sweelinck Bergamasca, using what is called the Continuo
division of the organ; Deuxième Légende of Bonnet, a beautiful
work; from the Vierne Pièces de Fantaisie, "Impromptu";
Méditation by Gabriel Dupont (1878-1914, an organ student of Widor);
Sportive Fauns, by the Yugoslav composer, Deszö d'Antalffy-Zsiross
(1885-1945), who studied with, among others, Max Reger. After intermission, the
obligatory hymn, "I love thy way of freedom, Lord" to a Hubert Parry
tune, Heavenward. The accompaniment was unusual, being almost a gentle wash of
sound much in the manner of some English Psalm accompaniments, very much in the
background. Then Four Pieces for the Mass by José Lidón; Clarence
Mader's "The Afternoon of a Toad"; and Variations on "Victimae
Paschali," by Jiri Ropek (b. 1922 in Prague).

Whatever misgivings people might have had about the concert,
at the end of the Ropek there was a spontaneous and essentially unanimous
standing ovation, and it kept going long enough that it was clear an encore was
needed, the lovely and quiet Salve Festa Dies by Marius Walter. Hailing the
festival day was a very gentle affair, but beautiful. And thus ended Sunday and
the weekend.

Monday, August 21

The recitals this day were part of an elective involving visits
to instruments in the Newton area. The alternative was the Mount Auburn
Cemetery, also available the previous day. A third choice was to do nothing and
ride a bus later to a concert at The Korean Church in Cambridge.

First stop: Church of the Redeemer, Chestnut Hill, Newton,
something of a cookie-cutter Anglican pretend Gothic building, of which there
must be thousands around the country. It boasted pretend Gothic acoustics as
well. Heard from the third row on the south side, the Noack organ was overpowering.
I suspect that this chancel installation caused the builder to push the
instrument so it could lead those in the back row of the church. Gretchen
Longwell gave a program that one might play on a North German-oriented
mechanical-action organ in a good room in an academic environment. The audience
was made up almost completely of organists, but the recital missed one of the
features of OHS programming--showing a variety of things the organ can do. Many
thought that we could have heard some Vierne, Mendelssohn, or anything else
that might show the Romantic possibilities which probably exist in this
instrument. The program: Buxtehude, Praeludium in G Minor; Boehm, Wer nur den
lieben Gott lasst walten; the hymn 
"If thou but trust in God to guide you"; two Schübler
chorales: Meine Seele and Ach bleib bei uns, both really well played; and the
Ernst/Bach, Concerto in G.

The next recital featured a new instrument built by George
Bozeman at Eliot Church (Congregational) in Newton Corner, Newton. The instrument
has rather active or flexible wind, a bit more so than wanted, as there was
clearly no room for the main reservoir right with the instrument--it is in the
next room--and even fitted with concussion bellows, things occasionally get a
bit bouncy. But the overall effect is very good. There is an amazing wooden 16'
Pedal Trombone, tremendously round and full in sound, not loud, and perhaps a
bit slow of speech, but really fun when it opens out. The recitalist was
Kimberly Ann Hess, director of chapel music and college organist at Stonehill
College in Easton, Massachusetts. The program: de Grigny, Veni Creator, played
with glorious ornamentation and clarity on a very sympathetic organ in
Kirnberger I; Schumann, Four Sketches from Opus 58; Bach, Toccata in F (BWV
540), including the most expressive playing of that long Pedal solo I have ever
heard; and the hymn "We are your people" to Sine Nomine.

Brian Jones has been featured at OHS conventions seemingly
forever. To be sure, his playing is always wonderful, but he gives more,
steeped as he is in the history of the instrument, the OHS, and New England
itself. Léfebure-Wély, Boléro de Concert; Concerto in D by
Charles Avison (1817-1953); Jongen, Scherzetto, op. 108, no. 1. The next and
final work on the program was dedicated to Alan Laufman, director of the Organ
Clearing House, who, as a young man, first turned pages for Jones for the same
piece quite a few years back at an OHS Convention on The Cape. Jones gave a
spirited reading of the Bach Prelude and Fugue in A Minor (BWV 543); and
finally the hymn, "How shall I sing that majesty which angels do
admire," to the tune Coe Fen.

Next on the schedule was Nancy Granert at The Korean Church
(formerly Pilgrim U.C.C.) in Cambridgeport, Cambridge. The 22-stop Hutchings instrument
of 1886 was not very telling in a fully carpeted room, unfortunately, and the
program began with three early works that just did not make sense on the
instrument and in the non-intimate environment: Spanieler Tanz of Johannes Weck
(early 16th century), Mit ganzem Willen wünsch ich ihr of Paumann, and
Kochersperger Spanieler of Hans Kotter; then two Bach settings of Liebster
Jesu, the first on the really warm Open Diapason, and the second using the
Dolce Cornet for the cantus, quiet but pungent. We then sang the chorale, with
a chance to sing harmony in the middle stanza. Then George Chadwick,
Canzonetta; Frank Donahoe, Impromptu. We finally heard the (rather
underwhelming) full organ in the Arthur Foote Prelude in C. Nancy Granert is
now organist at Emmanuel Church (Boston) and Temple Sinai (Brookline), and is
on the faculty at the Boston University School for the Arts. The audience stood
all around the walls, around the altar, and in extra seats in each of the
aisles. The organ did not have a chance, but Granert put in a valiant effort,
and it was clear that she is an excellent player.

We had heard four recitals already, and it was getting on
for 5 pm, but most did not accept the proffered escape bus to the hotel,
instead opting to hear Rosalind Mohnsen at the beautiful St. Catherine of Genoa
Church in Somerville, with its fine 1894 Jardine, and decent acoustic. Mohnsen
shared her program with a wonderful, expressive soprano, Maura Lynch, who added
a great deal of interest to the program. First, three Antiphons from the
Fifteen Pieces of Dupré, "His left hand is under my head,"
"Lo, the Winter is Past," and "How Fair and Pleasant art
Thou"; the hymn "Come Holy Ghost, Creator Blest" sung to a
pleasant minor-key tune from the Pius X Hymnal--written by Theodore Marier;
then Schumann, two of the Fugues on the Name of Bach. Ms. Lynch stepped forward
to the balcony rail and sang "The Flag of Prospect Hill" by J.W.
Bailey. We then sang an interesting cantor and response sort of hymn "Now
Help Us, Lord," with Ms. Lynch serving as cantor. Next, for soprano and
organ, Der Schmetterling ist in die Rose verliebt, op. 14, no. 2 of Henry
Hadley (1871-1937). Last on the program was Henry Dunham's (1853-1929) Fantasia
and Fugue in d, op. 19. Rosalind Mohnsen is director of music at Immaculate
Conception Church in Malden, and this was her 15th OHS convention recital.

Dinner on this evening was a barbeque at the Charlestown
Navy Yard. The food really was delicious, and we were only a short walk from
St. Mary Roman Catholic Church, Charlestown, where Dana Robinson played a
stunning recital. This church was one of a number of very old, large, Catholic
churches that have been recently re-stored. This was a great evening of great
organ music suited to the grand old Woodberry and Harris Organ of 1892 in a
fine acoustic. Parker, Introduction and Fugue in E Minor; a duet version of six
Schumann Studies for Pedal Piano (Opus 56) with Paul Tegels assisting; Franck,
E-Major Chorale; the hymn "Immaculate Mary" to the Lourdes Hymn; Widor,
the complete Symphonie Gothique. Dr. Robinson teaches at the School of Music of
the University of Illinois.

Tuesday, August 22

Tuesday the 22nd began with a lecture by Pamela Fox
concerning the Hook & Hastings factory in Weston, which involves more of
interest than might meet the eye. This was an attempt at a complete
"community of labor," with workers' cottages, a company-built
recreation hall, and other facilities. The move to Weston took place in 1880.

This was it--my first chance to hear the legendary
instrument at Old West Church, and its legendary organist, Yuko Hayashi.
Perhaps the experience of the organ was a bit underwhelming (to me) because we
have all heard so many wonderful instruments in a similar style that have been
built since this pioneer Fisk organ appeared in 1971. Many of these, I think,
surpass Old West in terms of color and clarity, an excellent example of which
we heard at our next stop. The program: Buxtehude, Toccata in D Minor; Bach,
Wenn wir in höchsten Nöthen sein; Clérambault, Suite on the
Second Tone. The Basse de Cromorne was something else, given the monster
Cromorne on this instrument, full of color and character. The Récit de
nasard revealed another monster, the Nasard itself--quite big and colorful in
combination. We did sing a hymn, "Now thank we all our God," in the
strange unison version found at number 396 in the 1982 Hymnal. Had anyone
turned one more page, they would have come to the harmonization
style="mso-spacerun: yes">  by Monk, following Mendelssohn's
symphony version, which would have been infinitely more fun.

Next First Lutheran Church, where Richards, Fowkes &
Company Opus 10 was in the final stages of installation, sufficiently far along
to allow William Porter to improvise his way through many combinations of
sounds. This organ, in its hideous Piero Belluschi building, should be a
fabulous addition to the Boston organ scene.

For the next program, Frederick Jodry V gave a really
interesting performance on a 1938 Wicks instrument in a fine acoustical
environment, Most Holy Name Parish, West Roxbury, the instrument designed and
voiced by Henry Vincent Willis. Wow! Broad foundation tone! Reading through the
very detailed stoplist provided, some features stand out. The Great has no
mixture, going only to the 2' Principal. There are, however, two Open Diapasons
at 8'. The flues are on 95mm of wind, but the Great Trumpet is on 145mm. The
Choir (enclosed--73 note chest) has a French Horn with its own tremolo. It is
on 140mm of wind, while the rest of the division is on 95mm. The Swell has flues
on 100mm, a Vox Humana which automatically engages its own Tremolo, on 105mm,
with the four other reeds on 140mm. The Pedal has a 16' Open Diapason and a 16'
Bourdon. All else is either borrowed or extended from somewhere. There is a
small sanctuary organ, but it is not working, and was not made available for
inspection. The program: Woodman, Little Partita for Easter; Chadwick,
Pastorale, demonstrating a truly wonderful Harmonic Flute;
Léfebure-Wély, March; the hymn "The Strife is O'er" at
an incredibly fast clip. The program finished with a really interesting
Postlude on a Theme of Palestrina by Dudley Buck.

One of the happy-making experiences of this convention has
been seeing quite a few ornate, very old, Roman Catholic churches that have
been newly loved and spruced up with great care and taste. Saint Patrick Church
in Roxbury is not one of these, possibly lacking the enormous amount of money
required for a major fix-up. It does have rather nice stations, set in small
tabernacles, perhaps two or three feet high, and lighted indirectly from above.
The room is disfigured by ugly loudspeakers stuck all over the place. The organ
is an E. & G.G. Hook & Hastings from 1880, rebuilt by Hutchings in
1893, adding a Barker lever to the Great and its couplers. The pipework and
chests are original Hook & Hastings, but the Choir organ was added by
Hutchings. It is visually reminiscent of the Covington Holtkamp that has been
discussed on Piporg-l, with exposed pipework in a pleasing pattern--rather
remarkable for its time.

In this church, Kristin Farmer played one of those
"Program will be announced" events, again of necessity, given the
precarious condition of the organ. Kristin and her organbuilder husband John
Farmer have donated countless hours to getting this organ up and playing for
the convention. After the organ received an OHS Plaque, we heard the following
program: Langlais, Hommage; three Dupré Antiphons; Meditation from
Thaïs; and a Gigue by John Bull. The Langlais really worked on the instrument,
which is quite beautiful doing mystic bits, and also capable of some richness
as the volume rises. There is a strong and independent 16' Open on the Great.
In the Dupré "I am black but comely," the Flute had a
wonderful open sound. The John Bull Gigue was played rather full out, and the
upperwork was irritatingly out of tune, sounding for all the world like a
supercoupler forcing into play pipes that have not been noticed (or tuned) in
years--but there is no supercoupler. At the end, we sang "Glory, love, and
praise," to the pleasant tune "Benifold," by Francis Westbrook
(1903-1975).

It was getting on for tea time, and at First Parish
(Unitarian) in Roxbury the convention split into two groups: one group going to
the recital and the other to what was billed in the book as a
"reception." This meant not high tea, but various cool drinks and
cookies out under the trees in back of the church. The recital of one hour and
ten minutes (surely the longest daytime event of the convention) took place on
a rather anemic instrument in a totally dead acoustic in a quite large
building. (The building is quite beautiful, if greatly run down, but a grant
has apparently been secured and further funds are being sought for its
restoration.) Robert Barney gave another performance of the Brahms Prelude and
Fugue in G Minor, which was effective in the space, followed by another good
choice, the Hindemith Second Sonata. But nothing could overcome the effect of
the hour, the hopelessly dull acoustic and the instrument. There was a certain
amount of merriment when folks realized the hymn to come was "Sleepers
Wake! A voice astounds us." But wait, there was yet more to come. The
Reger Fantasy on Wachet Auf really did not belong in this building, on this
organ, and for that trivial matter, at this time of day. Two people were sound
asleep in my pew. We ran, not walked, to the waiting buses.

The evening venue was Holy Cross Cathedral. Anyone, in New
England at least, who receives mail at all, has probably had a mailing from Leo
Abbott concerning his ongoing effort to restore this most wonderful instrument
in a glorious space. The instrument, Hook & Hastings from 1875, is simply
enormous, with all mod cons of the period, including Barker lever to the Great
and its couplers, pneumatic stop action, eight mixtures, and imported French
reeds from Zimmerman, some with Cavaillé-Coll shallots. It was
electrified around 1929 by Laws. Henri Lahaise and Sons have been working
steadily to keep it going, while doing restoration work as time and funds permit.
Along with lots of AGO members and other members of the Boston musical
community, in addition to lots of parishioners, we were a huge audience to hear
four well-known organists in a program that became even more remarkable than we
were led to expect.

George Bozeman led off with some charming Pepping Chorale
Preludes, ones from the Kleines Orgelbüch. Julian Wachner, who had given a
full evening recital earlier in the week, offered the Bach Dorian Toccata and
Fugue. The Toccata was a bit thick for the registration and building, but the
Fugue was magical, with a hardly noticeable but very real build-up that left
one breathless at the final cadence. Next came Wachner's transcription of El
Salon Mexico of Copland. I guess there are cannon shots in the score, and Leo Abbott
was ready in the balcony with an enormous bass drum, which he struck with
immense authority. At the first blow, the whole audience rose quite visibly
just a bit off its seats. Peter Sykes began the second half with a stunning
performance of the Reger Fantasy and Fugue on BACH. This was our first chance
to hear the organ full out in a major piece of organ literature. It was totally
tremendous, and the audience response was enormous. Leo Abbott assumed his
familiar bench at his familiar reversed horseshoe theater organ console (long
story, but the thing works!), and led the hymn "The Royal Banners Forward
Go" (Agincourt Hymn), with lots of wonderful fanfares and interludes. He
then gave a magnificent improvisation on Salve Regina, which, among other things,
was a great tour through the instrument. After the last chord had died away,
there were whoops and cheers, and an audience completely on its feet. What a
night!

The final great day

Wednesday, August 23

On this last day, it was hard to
refrain from commenting on the weather. With the exception of one evening of
some rain, the days were cool, sunny, and dry. One's impressions of a
convention are somewhat tempered, I think, by whether one has or has not sat in
broiling hot churches with perspiration pouring down. We had essentially none
of that.

This day began with a lecture on
"Organ Pedagogy in Boston 1850-1900," and included a discussion of
the personalities, the publications, and institutions of the period. To attend
a Friday noon recital at Trinity, Copley Square, is to learn that this organ
culture remains very much alive today. It will be you and about 299 others in
attendance! The AGO chapter is one of the largest and most active in the
country.

For the first two concerts of
the day we were split into two groups, so today's performers each played twice.
Our group began at First Baptist Church in Framingham at 11:30 with a totally
satisfying event. The church is the oldest in the area, clearly well-loved and
well kept. Victoria Wagner gave a program of organ works and songs in which she
accompanied soprano Nancy Armstrong. The organ is gentle, the room not resonant
but small and clear. The idea of this combination organ concert and song
recital was just right. The instrument, William Simmons of 1853, 17 stops, is
lovely, but not perhaps compelling enough to carry a full program on its own.
Like the church, it has been well cared for, and was presented with an OHS
plaque before the music began. The program: Handel, Voluntary XI; two Purcell
songs, "We Sing to Him" (Harmonia Sacra) and "Tecum principium
in die virtutis" from Dixit Dominus; the hymn "Rock of Ages" to
"Toplady"; James Woodman's song, Rock of Ages. Next, the premiere of
Peter Sykes's "Arise my love" for organ and soprano, a truly lovely
addition to the repertoire for voice and organ. The perfect finish to this
lovely event was Festival March, by Christian Teilman. Victoria Wagner is
director of music at Trinitarian Congregational Church in Concord, organ
instructor at Regis College in Weston, and on the piano faculty at the Noble
& Greenough School in Dedham.

It was lunch time. If you were
in Group A, you ate at St. Andrew's Church, Wellesley, but Group B, of which I
was a member, ate at Village Congregational, also in Wellesley. There were no
concerts scheduled for these churches--only the use of their facilities for the
meal. Then onward to the Chapel at Wellesley College. The complications of the
keyboard require quite a bit of time and understanding. There are split sharps
and a "short octave," and nothing quite feels like what one is used
to at home. But the whole thing represents the kind of creative adventure,
unique, I think, to the questing and curious mind of Charles Brenton Fisk. I
need to quote a bit of history from the ever-helpful Organ Handbook: "In
1972, Wellesley College signed a contract with C. B. Fisk for a two-manual
organ based on Dutch models, c. 1620. Inaugurated in 1981, this organ and its
design underwent considerable evolution in the decade leading to its fruition.
From the beginning, it was intended that a specialized instrument, built
‘in the spirit of uncompromising authenticity' would allow students a
European experience in America." The Pedal Posaune was added in 1983, as
were carved pipeshades. Additional Pedal stops were added in 1987, and the case
was oiled and gilded in 1992. At the other (east) end is an Aeolian-Skinner
instrument which is, in fact, used for accompanying the choir and congregation
up front.

On the above-described Fisk
instrument, Margaret Irwin-Brandon gave a most elegant recital: Scheidemann,
Fantasia in C; Weckmann, Canzon in G Major; a choral prelude by Franz Tunder,
Jesus Christus, unser Heiland, der von uns, served in alternation to our
singing of the chorale in or with various harmonizations. Next, the Buxtehude G
Minor. While there is an electric blower for practice, in normal public
playing, the organ is human-pumped. One person can do it all, although there is
room for two at the pumping apparatus. One must carefully go backwards up a
short staircase, step out over a beam connected to one of the feeder bellows,
and glide down, propelled by one's own weight, on that beam until the bellows
hits bottom. At this point, one goes back up the stairs, and vigilance is
wanted to wait for the last-pumped bellows to rise almost to the top, at which
point one rides down on the other one. It's an exercise that adds a most
graceful visual component to the playing of this instrument. As you look at the
case, to the left, you see the pumper backing up the stairs, and then
ever-so-gracefully riding down quite slowly on the bellows, after which the
work is repeated. A couple of our Biggs Fellows had the honor of raising the
wind.

For various reasons I missed a
recital at St. Mary R.C. Church, Waltham, by Libor Dudas, music director and
organist at the famous Old North Church. The program included the Brahms A
Minor Prelude & Fugue, the Elgar Vesper Voluntaries, and the Franck Finale,
on an 1874 Hook & Hastings instrument, restored by Henri Lahaise and Son
during the 1990s.

The last concert of the
convention took us back to Immaculate Conception where, before an enormous
audience of conventioneers, AGO members, and Boston music lovers, Thomas Murray
gave one final fabulous musical memory. The whole program was a procession of
delights, all played in the elegant Murray manner and wonderfully registered
with great care: Guilmant, Sonata IV in D Minor; Reger, Benedictus; Schumann,
Three Studies for Pedal-Piano; Bonnet, Matin Provençale (No. 2 from Poèmes
d'Automne, 1908); Franck, Fantasy in A Major. We sang a rousing hymn,
"Praise the Lord, ye heavens adore him," to a grand Victorian tune
called "Faben," composed by the first organist of Immaculate
Conception Parish, who served until his death in 1875, John Henry Wilcox. Next,
three more of the Schumann Studies; finally, the Mulet Carillon-Sortie. And
sortie we did, back to the exhibit hall cum bar, for a last social time with
friends from far and near.

What a wonderful convention! I
hope this report might help some readers to consider making plans now to attend
next summer in North Carolina, from June 21st to the 28th.

--Malcolm Wechsler

Mander Organs, USA

 

The author thanks Mark Nelson,
William Van Pelt, Judy Ollikkala, and Anonymous for corrections and additions
to this article after its original Internet appearance.

 

John Bishop

Is there really no such thing as bad publicity?

I had my first real job in an organbuilder’s workshop during the summer after my freshman year in college. I’ve often told the story of my first day--I was stationed outside in the parking lot by myself with the façade pipes of an old organ, sawhorses, a garden hose, and a gallon of Zipstrip®. I can imagine the previous week’s production meeting: “save it for the new kid!” It was a tough start, but it quickly got better. I remember that summer as a series of adventures as we worked on projects throughout New England, and I’m still at it.

Along with many other firsts I experienced that summer was my first exposure to media coverage of the pipe organ business. We were working in a church building installing a rebuilt instrument and a reporter from the local newspaper came to do a story that was published under a front-page photo that showed a colleague “voicing” a large organ pipe. I knew that what he had in his hands was a dummy façade pipe (one of those I had stripped)--it was both amazing and amusing to see how serious and erudite an organ builder can look while raising a virtual languid. (Remember “The Emperor’s New Clothes”?)

Five minutes of fame

Since then I have read many such stories in local newspapers. They often get some important technicality wrong, giving us a chance for a knowing snicker, but they have great value in raising public consciousness about the instrument. Many an organbuilder has been made a local celebrity by a photo and story published in a home-town newspaper. Alan Laufman, my predecessor at the Organ Clearing House, was notorious for seeking out the press whenever he went to work in a new town. He wasn’t looking for personal notoriety, he was spreading the word. 

On a wider stage, Craig Whitney, veteran foreign correspondent and assistant managing editor of the New York Times as well as organist and organ-enthusiast, has published a number of excellent and informative articles in the Times in recent memory. In his articles, Mr. Whitney’s compelling writing focuses the interest of the layperson, and his reporting skills produce content profound enough to educate the professional. His contribution to our field is immeasurable. I have had countless conversations with people who respond to hearing what I do for a living by saying, “Pipe organ builder! I didn’t know there were any of you left.” But whenever one of Whitney’s articles is published in the Times, friends and family from around the country call to be sure I know about it, and for the following couple weeks, daily conversations with new acquaintances invariably lead to, “I just read a story in the Times about that.” It’s a special pleasure to be able to respond by saying that I agree it was a good story and he really got it right. For those few days, people seem to be aware of the organ business.

This subject is on my mind these days because of a story broadcast recently on WBUR, “Boston’s NPR News Station.” On January 18, 2005, the First Baptist Church in Jamaica Plain, Massachusetts was destroyed by fire. The church’s organ was lost that night, robbing the neighborhood of the distinction of being home to two pre-Civil War three-manual organs built by E. & G. G. Hook. A month or so ago, I was approached by Keith O’Brien, a local freelance writer who was preparing a story for The Boston Globe about the loss of that organ. In the course of his conversations with church officials and members, he had learned about the work of The Organ Clearing House and asked me for an interview during which we discussed the preservation of nineteenth-century instruments, their artistic and historical value, and their relevance to modern music making. 

Working on that story Mr. O’Brien became aware of the Organ Historical Society convention about to begin in southeastern Massachusetts, and began preparing a subsequent story for NPR. He asked me for another interview and I looked forward to hearing what seemed to be a well-conceived story. It was to be broadcast on NPR’s Morning Edition so I knew I’d hear it first thing in the morning on the bedroom radio. There it was, the pleasure of hearing organ music on the radio news. But there was that familiar theme: “I didn’t know there were any of you left.” 

Most organs don’t burn up

On the surface, the story was just fine. It was nice that the Organ Historical Society’s convention was noticed and mentioned so prominently in the press. The center of the story was the “resurrection” of an organ built in 1876 for Trinity Church in Boston by Hilborne Roosevelt, now installed in Our Lady of Guadalupe in New Bedford. The organ had been little used, seriously damaged by water due to leaks in the church’s roof and tower, completely silent for decades, and made playable again by heroic volunteer efforts on the part of OHS members. I’m certain that those listening to the story were compelled by the idea of a group of enthusiasts working hard to preserve a slice of antiquity. But I doubt that a listener would understand that there is any good reason for preserving antique organs. Following several comments that included phrases like “fumbling with the keys . . . “ that did little to impress the listener about the skills of an organbuilder, the clincher for me was when O’Brien said with reference to the Jamaica Plain fire, “most organs don’t burn up--they just fade away.” Yikes! I hope I’m never inside an organ when it fades away.

Who am I, and why am I here?

The story missed the point. Or as I reflected after hearing the story, I should have made a point of making the point: We are not a small sect of aficionados preserving antique organs to satisfy our own interests. Rather, we recognize the beauty and historicity of these instruments for their relevance to modern worship and modern music-making as well as for their antiquity. It’s special to realize that a century-old instrument is durable enough for regular use. But we must be sure to point out that it’s amazing that the instrument keeps its place in our modern society on its artistic merits as well. The pipe organ is not a relic from an earlier age--and neither are we who devote our lives to it.

The website of the Organ Historical Society, <www.organsociety.org&gt;, is worth a visit. It will keep you current with the Society’s activities, and it’s a terrific place to shop for music and books. As I thought about the story on WBUR, I remembered that the Society’s bylaws are published on the website and I took a look to refresh my memory. Here’s the relevant excerpt:

2. PURPOSE. The Society is an international organization for friends of the organ. The purpose of the Society is:

(a) To encourage, promote, and further an active interest in the organ and its builders, particularly those in North America . . .

I think some words are missing--or perhaps a better way to put it, I think some missing words are implied. I doubt that the bylaws’ authors intended that the active interest we are to further should be limited to the “friends of the organ.” I believe that it is our responsibility to our art to broadcast its relevance, its beauty, its majesty whenever and wherever we can. If the organ world is considered arcane, mysterious, or worse irrelevant, how can we assure its future?

The cost of building a new pipe organ has increased dramatically since my introduction to Zipstrip®. When I was first in the organ business a new twelve-stop organ built by a premier builder was installed in my home town for about $36,000. Today, that sum will purchase somewhere between one and two stops. Imagine a hypothetical random survey of modern organists, asking them to write down an “ideal” stoplist. I bet most of them would show more than 50 stops. That hypothetical 50-stop “ideal” organ certainly costs more than a million dollars today. Put enough of those pesky 32s in the stoplist and you will exceed $1.5 million. That’s the equivalent of at least fifty or sixty years of the salary of many of the organists I know.

Any monumental public art work is the product of vision and ambition. It’s easy to underestimate the appropriate scope of the vision. The newly hired organist of a church can play on a tired old instrument for a few weeks and mention casually during coffee hour that the church needs a new organ. That’s an observation, not a vision. The vision--the credible, mature, thrilling vision that involves a new organ necessarily includes an understanding of the capabilities and priorities of the community. Does this mean that a vision has to be realistic? Perhaps a vision is realistic only to the visionary. Everyone else sees it as a fantasy until they are persuaded that it’s possible--until they can share the vision.

Seers have everything!

Cyrus Curtis (1850-1933) was a visionary. He founded the Curtis Publishing Company which brought him fame and fortune principally through the success of The Ladies Home Journal and The Saturday Evening Post. Our culture would still be the richer if Curtis’ contribution was measured only by Norman Rockwell’s nearly half-century (1916-1963) of cover illustrations for The Saturday Evening Post. (Now that’s an important patronage!) Curtis grew up in Portland, Maine where Hermann Kotzschmar, organist of the family’s church, was one of his father’s closest friends, a friendship that was close enough that the son’s full name was Cyrus Hermann Kotzschmar Curtis. The young C.H.K. Curtis was so fascinated and inspired by Kotzschmar’s playing that he taught himself to play the organ well enough to master four-part hymns. As he achieved fantastic financial success, he installed instruments built by the Aeolian Organ Company in his home in Wyncote, Pennsylvania. Aeolian’s Opus 784 was built for Curtis in 1896 and enlarged by five ranks in 1903 as Opus 943. Opus 1374 was installed in the house in 1916, incorporating Opus 943 as the Antiphonal Organ.1 But the lasting proof of Cyrus H.K. Curtis’ devotion to the pipe organ is the grand instrument he gave to the City of Portland, built by the Austin Organ Company, dedicated to his father’s friend, and known to this day as The Kotzschmar Organ. Today the Friends of the Kotzschmar Organ (www.FOKO.org) oversees the maintenance of the instrument and presents a popular series of concerts each year.

Was it Cyrus Curtis’s vision that the organ he named for his father’s friend would still be in prominent public use, a beloved fixture of a small city nearly a century later? (It’s a safe bet that without the municipal organ, we would not remember that Hermann Kotzschmar was the organist of the First Parish Unitarian Church in Portland for 47 years.) Was he challenging people he would never meet--those people who formed The Friends of the Kotzschmar Organ when a fiscal crisis ended the city’s financial support for the organ? How often do we take such grand public fixtures for granted? And let’s take a step back. Was it Cyrus Curtis’s idea to place the organ in City Hall, or did some enterprising bureaucrat approach the wealthy native son?  

Portland is the largest city in Maine with a population of only 64,000 people. The population of the metropolitan area is about 230,000.2 If five percent of American cities that size had hundred-rank municipal organs, there would be a lot more people subscribing to The Diapason. And why not? It’s simply a matter of public relations. Is there a visionary in your town? I know where to find the organs!                        n

R. E. Coleberd

R. E. Coleberd, an economist and retired petroleum industry executive, is a contributing editor of The Diapason. He is a director of The Reuter Organ Company.

Introduction

In the following narrative, the interaction of an organist and an organbuilder in the design of a new instrument and selection of a builder is described in some detail by each of them. The organist, Jerome Meachen, an Oberlin and Union graduate, was organist/choirmaster of St. John’s Episcopal Church in Waterbury, Connecticut. In 1957 St. John’s, upon the recommendation of Meachen, acquired a 70-rank, three-manual McManis organ. It was followed, when he changed positions, by a 67-rank, three-manual at Redeemer Episcopal Church in Sarasota, Florida (completed in 1966), and in 1973, by a 49-rank, three-manual for Manatee Community College, Bradenton, Florida. The builder, Charles McManis, a trained organist who had apprenticed briefly with Walter Holtkamp before World War II, operated a small shop in Kansas City, Kansas. His skill in flue voicing would become widely recognized and acclaimed in a sixty-year career, which counted more than 125 new instruments and rebuilds.

The discussion highlights the steps in the evolution of their tonal philosophy. It was a process of listening, comparing and choosing sounds and stops in the quest for authenticity in the revolutionary epoch that characterized American organbuilding in the decades following World War II. Before their first meeting, Meachen had acquired a preference for non-legato playing while McManis had been taught the legato style. Despite this difference, the two men found common ground in their admiration and profound respect for the tonal work of William A. Johnson, a legendary nineteenth-century New England tracker builder, and his successors.

Background

The choice of a relatively unknown independent builder in 1956 was decidedly the exception for this era. In the 1950s, pipe organ building in America was the province of the integrated major builders who had controlled the market for new instruments since the turn of the century. M. P. Möller of Hagerstown, Maryland, the “General Motors” of the industry, with a force of more than 400 workers, delivered 365 instruments in 1928 and in the decade 1950-60, with perhaps 200 employees, built 125 organs per year.1 Other builders, those who had survived the drastic shakeout during the Great Depression of the 1930s, were likewise busy, with comparatively large work forces and lengthy backlogs.

In retrospect we might safely say the 1950s, though a vibrant decade, marked the beginning of the end of what could be termed the “commercial” era of organbuilding in America that extended back to the 1920s and perhaps even earlier. Builders, including such highly successful businessmen as Mathias Peter Möller, concentrated almost exclusively on production to meet the enormous market demand in all venues. Company executives, sons of the founder, not musicians, were largely unfamiliar with the great literature for the organ. Sadly, they scarcely comprehended the interface between Bach, Buxtehude and other composers and the subtleties and nuances of fine voicing and finishing in building the King of Instruments. Their instruments were often quite successful in the context of a “production organ,” with uniform and consistent voicing, thanks to the skills of talented shop voicers, but, in retrospect, they were perhaps lacking in artistic statement, which can come only from meticulous tonal finishing. On small organs there was virtually no concept of tonal finishing once the instrument was installed and tuned. Only with the large “signature” instruments was time scheduled for tonal finishing, for example by John Schleigh of Möller and Herb Pratt of Aeolian-Skinner.2

Yet the organ reform movement was underway and gaining momentum, beginning with the pathfinding efforts in the 1930s of E. Power Biggs, Melville Smith, King Covell and others. The major themes are well known: lower wind pressures, smaller scales and higher pitches in flue work and the introduction of chorus in place of solo reeds. A “vertical” tonal palette emerged, featuring a full range of pitches in place of the former “horizontal” palette, dominated by stops of 8-foot pitch. These elements combined in the cohesive blending of individual voices, and the emphasis on ensemble in the building of primary and secondary choruses as reflected in the work of Walter Holtkamp and G. Donald Harrison in the North German and American Classic paradigms.

Leaders in the organist profession, highly educated, widely traveled and well-read, people like Robert Noehren and Parvin Titus, were captivated by the new sounds and ensembles which awakened them to the instrument’s rich music from antiquity. They began paying close attention to European instruments, through travel and recordings, as well as 19th-century work of notable American builders (Hook, Erben, Johnson and others). They wisely looked beyond the stoplist and listened carefully to the sound. The reintroduction of the tracker instrument, first by European builders, followed by an emerging U.S. industry of small shops, reinforced the historic and intrinsic artistic value of the King of Instruments. Steady improvement in the tone quality of the electronic instruments soon spelled the end of the commodity segment of the pipe organ market rooted in the image of an organ as a utilitarian device in support of corporate worship.3

By the end of the century it was recognized that the heart and soul of a pipe organ, a work of art, is the tonal edifice, which begins with a vision and continues through design, voicing and tonal finishing of the instrument. These requirements were most often found in the combined talents of the tonal architect and skilled, dedicated artisans in his shop, seldom in one individual. Harrison, Holtkamp and Fisk, for example, were superb designers but were not voicers. Schopp, Pearson and Zajic were supremely talented reed voicers. But once in a while one individual comprised them all. George Michel of Kimball perhaps came close and, in the author’s judgment, Charles McManis fits this image.

In any revolutionary epoch, change in an established industry comes slowly and sometimes from the outside. American organbuilders, badly shaken by the lean years of the Great Depression and World War II, were to some degree insular, isolated and ingrown. On balance they were reluctant to abandon existing practices and slow to adopt new and untried techniques with unknown consequences. Voicers, trained in-house on high-pressure, wide-scale stops of 8-foot pitch, scarcely comprehended the new generation of flues and reeds. They and their superiors had been disinterested in historic instruments, American and European, which they viewed as antiquated and obsolete. But they could not ignore the revolutionary changes around them, and some firms wisely brought in outsiders--men like Richard Piper at Austin and Franklin Mitchell at Reuter--who were listening and eager to apply their ideas to new stoplists.

At the close of World War II, the demand for organ work far exceeded the supply of qualified people. Factories enjoyed lengthy backlogs and were hard pressed to meet production schedules. Service firms comprised primarily older men, former employees of firms who had failed in the Great Depression--for example, Syl Kohler in Louisville (Pilcher) and Ben Sperbeck and Milton Stannke in Rock Island (Bennett). Honest and hard working, they can best be described as mechanics; few had either voicing experience or any concept of a modern chorus or ensemble. This afforded an opportunity for a newcomer, a young man who had listened carefully, had a firm conviction of what pipe sound should be, and had acquired the voicing skills to bring the sound of a pipe to the tone quality he desired.

Jerome Meachen writes:

A native of Oklahoma City, I studied organ with Dana Lewis Griffin, a student of David McK. Williams at St. Bartholomew’s Episcopal Church on Park Avenue in New York City, and then enrolled at Oberlin College where my teachers were Leo Holden and Grigg Fountain. Holden was a 19th-century organ teacher--Rheinberger, romantic, and very happy with the E. M. Skinner organ in the chapel. His whole approach to organ playing was: “write down the fingering I give you and the registration I want you to use.” It was a very dry--and I felt antiquated--approach. In contrast, Fountain said: “select your own registration from what you hear, we will discuss it and you defend it.” This was essential to broadening my understanding of organ music and what I wanted to develop in my own touch on the instrument. While at Oberlin I practiced on the Johnson organ at Christ Episcopal Church in Oberlin courtesy of Arnold Blackburn, also on the Oberlin organ faculty. This awakened me to the beautiful voicing of this builder. Of course northeast Ohio was Holtkamp country. When I began studying with Fountain, my last two years, he had just obtained a Holtkamp at St. Paul’s Lutheran Church in Cleveland. While I was fascinated with the sounds of this instrument, I found it ear-shattering. I well remember one Saturday afternoon when I was practicing at St. Paul’s. Walter Holtkamp came in, climbed up on the Swell box and said play full organ. He just reveled in the volume, but I found that sort of sound excruciating.

A milestone in my career was a recital at Oberlin by Ernest White. I was fascinated by his approach, non-legato, in contrast to legato, which was the basic style at Oberlin. Legato evolved because of the acoustics organists had to deal with in American churches. Nothing happened after you took your finger off the note so you had to pull everything together.

After graduating from Oberlin I enrolled in the School of Sacred Music at Union Theological Seminary in New York City, where I arranged to study with Ernest White, then an adjunct faculty member. We shared a common interest in repertoire and liturgy. White had me listen to orchestral recordings of Mozart and commented: remember, “Bach was a violinist as well as an organist.” Bob Clark, another graduate student, and I found White way ahead of his time in non-legato sound, which broadens your understanding of the organ. This is the sound one finds in Europe and what we were striving for in America. Working with White was working with the literature and developing the capacity to do his particular style of non-legato in terms of liturgy, the Anglican approach and plainsong. This was very enlightening to me. I was fascinated by White’s approach to playing the studio organ at St. Mary the Virgin, the second studio instrument, this one by Möller. His technique was a detached sound, like the ringing of bells. Unfortunately, the voicing was so loud it was difficult to listen to. This alerted me to the distinction between intensity and decibels, a key distinction in my thinking. I was also intrigued by the design of the organ, which had a 32’ Cornet using individual stops and two Swell boxes providing two ensembles. This inspired the use of separate swell boxes and couplers for flues and reeds at St. John’s. My admiration for Johnson continued when I practiced on their instrument at the Mott Haven Dutch Reformed Church in the Bronx while at Union.4

Charles McManis writes:

As a pre-teenager in Kansas City in the 1920s, with my parents I often rode the streetcar to Independence Boulevard Christian Church to hear Sunday afternoon recitals by the legendary Hans Feil on the four-manual, 1910 Austin organ. In the 1930s while I was a student at the University of Kansas, I spent summers and holidays working with Peter E. Nielsen, a local serviceman, tuning and rebuilding pipe organs. Two of these instruments were Johnson trackers from the 1880s.5 They were especially impressive and were to influence fundamentally my concept of voicing.

Enrolling as a liberal arts major at the University of Kansas in Lawrence I became a student of University Organist Laurel Everette Anderson, an Oberlin master’s graduate who then studied for three years in Paris with Joseph Bonnet. He taught the legato method, and emphasized proper turning of phrases and making real music out of notes. He greatly expanded my knowledge of the pipe organ and emphasized nuances of color and singing quality in organ voices. Following graduation with an A.B. degree in 1936 and having already set my sights on becoming an organbuilder, I obtained a Mus.B. at KU in 1937, which required my playing an hour-long recital from memory. The thought occurred to me that I might be the first organbuilder who could play more than “Yankee Doodle” on what he had built.

I began my organbuilding career with a shop in the basement of my parents’ home. I rebuilt three organs and built one new instrument. My Opus 2, 1939--electrifying and adding nine ranks to a 1910 tubular-pneumatic Kilgen--is still playing in the Central Christian Church in Kansas City, Kansas. Then, having learned of his growing prominence in the organ reform movement, I apprenticed with Walter Holtkamp in Cleveland for a few months, eager to learn from him. I assisted with the installation of a three-manual Holtkamp organ at Olivet College in Michigan. It had Great and Positiv slider chests, but the Swell had ventil stop-action for want of sufficient space for a slider chest. When I compared the sounds of slider chest pipes and those on the ventil chest I was surprised to find that I could hear no difference. Walter’s instruments were visually well designed and beautiful to look at but, frankly, I was disappointed with his ensemble sound and tone quality. The voicing lacked a certain richness of tone. In checking Holtkamp pipes I noticed that he nicked only on the languids and not on the lower lips. As a result, pipes occasionally tended to emit an abnormal squeaking sound. He was not interested in building a truly classic organ as much as building a distinctive Holtkamp organ. In retrospect I find that I employed very few of Holtkamp’s ideas in my later work. Based on my background in music, I wasn’t hearing in his organs the sounds I wished to hear in my own instruments.

Following the attack on Pearl Harbor and the U.S. entry in World War II, I enlisted in the Army. Prior to shipment overseas my outfit was stationed at Camp Kilmer, New Jersey, for a few days. I went on pass to New York City to hear G. Donald Harrison’s new Aeolian-Skinner in the main sanctuary of St. Mary the Virgin Episcopal Church. This was my first acquaintance with mixtures and upperwork, which Laurel Anderson had talked about at KU, but which were conspicuously absent in the Austin organ in Hoch Auditorium there. Then, as a chaplain’s assistant, I was stationed in Europe where I took every opportunity to play and inspect European instruments. I remember, in particular, the famous Cavaillé-Coll instrument in the church of St. Ouen at Rouen, which inspired Guilmant’s Eighth Organ Symphony. This was the first time I had seen a five-rank mounted cornet and reeds with sunken blocks in the boots.6 After the war I returned to Kansas City, Kansas and set up shop again. On one occasion, being in New York City, I attended a recital given by Ernest White on his new Möller studio organ at the Church of St. Mary the Virgin. I left at intermission because the organ was painfully loud. In my voicing I try to make a rank of pipes only as loud as needed to ping the tone off the walls, blowing only hard enough to fill the room at the desired volume.7

Jerome: Following graduation from Union, I was appointed organist/choirmaster at St. John’s Episcopal Church in Waterbury, Connecticut. When we went looking for a new instrument to replace the 1869 Hook & Hastings, I wasn’t enamored with the sounds of Holtkamp, Möller, Schlicker and Austin, and mentioned my dilemma to my good friend Bob Clark, whose judgment I valued. He was organist at the Peddie Memorial Baptist Church in Newark, New Jersey, where my wife was soloist, having the best-paying solo position in the area, while I was at Union. He said, “Why don’t you check with Charles McManis, who builds organs that sing and don’t shout.” When I learned he was in Danbury, Connecticut, I went down to get acquainted, and we hit it off immediately.

Charles: In the early 1950s I became acquainted with Robert Noehren through our writings in The Diapason and The American Organist magazines. I worked for him on the Hill Auditorium Skinner in Ann Arbor, and built a new organ for Frankenmuth, Michigan, where he was the consultant. When he was named consultant on the Johnson at Emmanuel Lutheran Church in Danbury, Connecticut, whose organist had been his student at Michigan, I was called in. My strong feelings concerning Johnson flue pipe voicing began during my apprenticeship days in Kansas City. I discovered that diapason pipes mouth-blown very gently, then increased to full volume, had scarcely any change in pitch. Volume was regulated at the toe hole, not by opening the flue. In contrast, classical open toe voicing regulated volume at the mouth, which I found totally inadequate. I revoiced the 8-foot Principal, increasing its richness of tone, primarily by opening the toes and, to a lesser degree adjusting the mouths. Jerry and I connected as musicians, no doubt in part because I too had a degree in organ. We both agreed on what we didn’t like. I obtained the contract for the St. John’s, Waterbury, organ (see photo and stoplist) in part because Parvin Titus was the consultant. The St. John’s rector, Rev. John Youngblood, had been a curate in Cincinnati, knew Mr. Titus and trusted his judgment. Also, I had built the new instrument for the Second Church of Christ, Scientist in Dayton, where Titus also had been the consultant.

Jerome: The Johnson sound was already in my head, not only from Oberlin, but from the fine Johnson in Mott Haven Dutch Reformed Church in the Bronx, where I first practiced when I went to New York. I explained that we were looking for intensity not decibels in organ sound, colors and ensembles that sing. Charles showed me what he was doing. It was soon obvious this was just the ticket for us. These initial impressions were confirmed when my wife and I visited St. Paul’s Episcopal Church in Kansas City, Kansas, and heard for the first time a complete McManis instrument. All the voices were exquisite; the 8-foot principal was a well-supported, big baritone sound. Having worked in training choirs at an early age, striving to blend individual voices, I found in the lovely individual voices of this organ an exquisite ensemble and chorus.

Charles: When Jerry came to Kansas City, the mixtures and ensemble sounds on the Great and Swell at St. Paul’s were what really got to him. The voices together on each manual resulted in contrasting sounds but very much related. We talked at length about voicing and drew up a specification for a three-manual instrument for St. John’s. (See specification.) I also discussed what I had done in reworking old pipes and changing pitch. This was very important because in the 1869 Hook & Hastings at St. John’s a number of old ranks were reworked.

I first saw Waterbury after Meachen returned from Kansas City, and was dismayed to find dry acoustics and such terribly large scales in the Hook & Hastings. The only principal stop I could use was the 16-foot on the Great, which would work well in the Pedal division. We were able to cut down and revoice a number of 8-foot stops; for example, the 4-foot principal on the Swell had been an 8-foot violin diapason. If the scale and mouth treatment were correct, the desired sound would follow.

Let me quote from my forthcoming autobiography to explain the tonal philosophy of this instrument: “The classic Werkprinzip theory of terraced manual pitches had not yet hit the AGO cocktail hour conversation when Jerry and I drew up the design for Opus 35 (St. John’s Church Waterbury, CT) on that Sunday afternoon. Submitted to organ consultant Parvin Titus, he heartily approved of the design, but suggested inclusion of the rather outstanding Oboe from the 1869 H&H. But back to the Werkprinzip! While numerous other stops are needed in each division, the backbone is the Principal chorus, as shown below:

I:              Great     8’ Principal       11/3’      Mixture

II:            Swell    4’ Principal        2/3’       Scharf

III:          Brustwerk           2’ Principal        1/3’       Cymbel

Pedal     8’ Principal       11/3’     Mixture

For purposes of contrapuntal clarity, the Pedal chorus should be the same pitch as the Great, plus suitable 16’ underpinning. Polyphony does better without the growl of a sub-octave mixture cluster.”

After the tornado hit downtown Waterbury in July, 1989, heavily damaging the St. John’s organ, I replaced 35 ranks of pipes including replacement of the Brustwerk Singend Regal with a brass Krummhorn and substitution of a Swell 4’ Clarion for the earlier 4’ Krummhorn. Also, the 32’ extension of the Pedal reed was linked to the Posaune instead of the Contrafagotto.

Jerome: Another factor which impressed me about the McManis was its compatibility with what I call a theatre sound by which I mean, it had to dance. In the theatre organ you had a detached pedal and a strong emphasis on the melodic line when you are thinking bass line and melody. This is why I was very comfortable doing figured bases. It was non-legato; it was instrumental. When you were featuring the posthorn, you were quite willing to detach it. My father loved theatre organ, so from the time I started playing, I developed something of a theatre style. Searle Wright, the well-known organist at St. Paul’s Chapel, Columbia University, also did a great theatre style.

Charles inspired my definition of intensity because he viewed the entire instrument as a whole. In a three-manual you could draw the principal and mixture on each division, couple them together and you had a basic ensemble evoking a very intense, rich but not very loud sound because you didn’t have to fill in and thus did not have an awful lot of stops working. Thus the concept of full organ was very discriminating; the full organ piston didn’t bring on everything. You are dealing with colors and when you put everything on you end up with brown or gray. And with a tremolo on each division if you wanted to cantus firmus you could do it anywhere in the instrument.

This instrument fulfills my belief in the theological aspect of an organ. With my developing interest in liturgy I was very much aware of the person in the pew. I hold that the organ must be people-friendly, in support of congregational singing whether it be chant or hymnody. Surrounding rather than hitting the congregation with sound--making a joyful noise, not just a noise. Charles spoke of attending a recital on the Möller practice organ at St. Mary the Virgin in New York and finding it so loud he left after the first half of the program. I agree. White offered me a chance to practice on that organ but I told him I would be using only one or two stops so I might as well practice on the chapel organ. The sound was so high in decibels I couldn’t hear it.

Redeemer and Manatee

This paper has focused on the St. John’s organ. Those at Redeemer Episcopal Church and Manatee Community College continued the fundamental practices in the philosophy of McManis and Meachen. They also reflected modifications and forward thinking in their approach, as did the rebuilding and restoration of St. John’s in 1989.

At Redeemer in Florida, the former ten-rank Möller, with its subsequent addition of nineteen Aeolian-Skinner ranks, was skillfully integrated into the 67-rank new instrument. In place of the 16’ Quintaton on the Great, they chose a 16’ Gemshorn mounted on the chancel wall, extended to an 8’ Gemshorn and a 4’ tapered flute in a seamless tonal progression. The Great and Positiv exposed chests were equipped with toeboard expansion chambers to increase richness of tone.

The 49-rank Manatee Community College organ was installed in Neel Auditorium at the point of a pie-shaped building on a 35-foot shelf at the back of the stage. In an obviously “werkprinzip” layout (see photo, page 20), in a variety of shapes, it was enclosed in a mahogany case. The 16’ Pedal Principal exposed at the center hid the movement of Swell shutters behind. To its left were the lower notes of the 16’ Subbass and 16’ Posaune; to the right, the pipes of the Hooded Trumpet and more Subbass metal pipes. To the far left in the left façade was the Great 8’ Principal, and to the far right the 4’ Positiv Principal in the façade. Roofs of the façades differed but all were related to the focal point mentioned above.

The Manatee Great included a 16’ Gemshorn, all the usual 8’ and 4’ stops, plus a normal 11/3’ Mixture, a 2/3’ Acuta, and an 8’ Trumpet. The Swell mixture was a 1’ Scharf and the Positiv had a 1/3’ Cymbel. The thoroughly adequate Pedal division included a 32’ Dulzian and the usual 8’ and 4’ ranks. As would be expected, the Pedal mixture lowest pitch was 11/3’, but pipe scales were larger than those of the Great Mixture.

Summary

The above dialogue illustrates the way in which the concept of organ sound in the mind of an organist and soon-to-be builder begins with formal study of the instrument and is heavily influenced by the instructor and his experience. With this background, they are then prepared to compare and contrast a wide variety of sound in determining their own definition of it: for Meachen and McManis, a singing sound. It also argues that the ultimate test of the voicer’s art, be it Johnson or McManis, is the 8’ Diapason found on the Great, a belief shared by organists and builders for many years.

In an article in The Diapason, based upon his lecture to the AIO Convention in Pittsburgh in 1977, McManis explains the details of flue voicing and the practices of Tannenberg, Gratian, Kilgen, Hook & Hastings, Johnson, Wurlitzer, Estey (William E. Haskell), Cavaillé-Coll, and Kimball.8 This paper, now considered a classic, together with the recognition of his peers in his selection as instructor in flue voicing at a seminar of the American Institute of Organbuilders, established him, in the author’s judgment, as one of the finest flue voicers of the twentieth century.9

Charles passed away, at age 91, on December 3, 2004 in South Burlington, Vermont. Providentially, he and his wife Judith had just completed his autobiography. It contains vivid recollections of personalities and detailed descriptions of his instruments in a sixty-year career that spanned the arc of the postwar history of organbuilding in America. This priceless volume is scheduled to be published by the Organ Historical Society in 2005. It will find a prominent place on the shelf of every organist, organbuilder and organ enthusiast.

For research assistance and critical comments on drafts of this paper, the author gratefully acknowledges: Gene Bedient, Jerry Dawson, Charles Eames, Donald Gillette, Albert Neutel, Barbara Owen, Michael Quimby, Elizabeth Schmidt, Jack Sievert and R. E. Wagner.

Interview with D. A. Flentrop (1910–2003)

Jan-Piet Knijff

Jan-Piet Knijff was born in Haarlem, the Netherlands. He is Organist-in-Residence at the Aaron Copland School of Music, Queens College, CUNY and Adjunct Professor of Music at Fairfield University. His organ teachers were Piet Kee, Ewald Kooiman (MM/Artist Diploma, Amsterdam 1996) and Christoph Wolff. He won both the first prize and the Prize of the Audience at the International Bach Competition, Lausanne, Switzerland (1997). He has contributed articles to Het Orgel, The Tracker, and various other journals.

Dirk Andries Flentrop, undoubtedly the best-known Dutch organ builder of the past century worldwide, died on 30 November 2003 at the age of 93. (For an obituary, see The Diapason, February 2004, "Nunc Dimittis," page 6.) Flentrop occupied a key position in the development of the post-World War II "modern" organ. International recognition was not long in coming: Flentrop built about 80 organs in the USA, restored organs as far away as Mexico City, and received honorary doctorates from two American universities. This  interview first appeared in Dutch in Het Orgel in 1999, while the actual interviewing took place in April and May of that year.*

It has been already more than 25 years since he retired from organ building. Since then, Flentrop--born and bred in the Zaanstreek just north of Amsterdam--has lived in an apartment near Haarlem. His living room features an old Steinway piano and a small harpsichord.

Flentrop explains the move away from his hometown: "I really wanted to quit. I had sold my shares to the employees. As a consequence, I had to let go of the business. That's why I moved here, even though I really didn't want to leave Zaandam." Flentrop speaks quietly, deliberately, thoughtfully. He just turned 89 but is still full of vitality. He comes down in person to open the door of his apartment building and since his wife is not home, he makes a cup of tea for his visitor. No need for help; but would I be so kind to pour the hot water from the pot into the cup? "That way there's a higher chance that it doesn't land on the table," he says, smilingly.

He suggests that I sit down next to the window; that way I have the light in my face, which will make it easier for him to understand me. His eyes and ears are not what they used to be. "I use a big magnifying glass for reading, that just about works. My wife marks in the newspaper what I should be reading."

It isn't quite so easy to make an appointment for an interview, because Flentrop keeps busy. "I don't want to call myself the househusband, but because my wife teaches at the university, I do take care of small jobs and run errands," he says. In addition, Flentrop is a member of the Rotary and of a social club. He takes a scant interest in the organ world. "The organist of our church here in town plays in Schiedam this coming Saturday. I built that organ, so I look forward to going there. And on Friday, Jos van der Kooy plays a request program at the Westerkerk1 to raise money for the restoration of the small organ, which I have built. So yes, we will be going, but I don't think we'll be staying all night. The concert is supposed to be three times 45 minutes. That's a bit too much for me, honestly."

Flentrop finds it hard to understand that I have come to write an article about him. He hopes that it doesn't become some kind of glorification of his personality. I explain to him that the article will appear in a special issue on the Neo-Baroque; his wife has warned me in advance that he hates that word.

Why do you dislike that term so much?

"Because I have never tried to contribute to a neo-style. I have always tried to be myself," he says calmly but with involvement. After a brief silence, he continues: "I have never had the illusion that in the twentieth century, one could build an organ that equals an instrument from, say, 1700. I felt that (a) we weren't able to do that with our staff at the time, the technical know-how, etc., and (b) we live in 1950 and we have to make something that we think is beautiful at this point in time. Maybe I was wrong, but that's what I thought back then."

"I remember being flabbergasted when Reil presented their copy of a Schnitger organ.2 I myself had considered making a copy of the Oosthuizen organ,3 simply to learn from it. But I was convinced that nobody would want to buy an organ with a short octave and mean-tone temperament. The time was not yet ripe for it. Later I abandoned the idea of copying, hence my surprise when, ten years later, Reil came with the Schnitger copy."

Flentrop thinks that the 1950s--with the illustrious restoration of the Schnitger organ at Zwolle as trendsetter--were essential for the direction the firm was to take. But Zwolle was definitely not the starting point. What was?

Flentrop: "In the 1920s, I had spoken a few times with Mr. Mahrenholz, the big man of the Orgelbewegung. His book on organ scaling became invaluable to me later on, although in retrospect I have to admit that I got a few things totally wrong. Anyway, as a youngster, I was of course very much impressed with a man like Mahrenholz."

Then, there was that remarkable encounter with Albert Schweitzer.

Flentrop: "That was in 1927; I had just turned 17. My father4 had built a pneumatic organ in Koog aan de Zaan, with a purely ornamental, silent R?ºckpositiv. At the time, Schweitzer was traveling around the world in order to raise money for his hospital in Africa. He came to Zaandam and gave a lecture at the Mennonite Church." Flentrop smiles. "Looking back it is hard to believe that he came to get money from the Mennonites in Zaandam, but anyway. My dad and I went to the lecture and we were bold enough to ask Schweitzer whether he would come to hear our new organ. Sure enough, he agreed. We didn't have a car or anything, but there was a livery nearby, and off we went in a carriage to Koog."

"Schweitzer examined the organ and listened to it very carefully. Then he said to my dad: 'Flentrop, you could make a good organ, but you have to convert to become a craftsman.' That sounded puzzling. Our parts came from Laukhuff, and the pipes from a pipe factory. It was hard to believe that that should influence the quality of the organ. Yet, I somehow felt that Schweitzer's words rang true, and I told him that I wanted to know more about it and that I was looking for an apprenticeship to learn the trade. He told me to come and meet him the next day at the place where he was staying in Amsterdam--a gigantic villa opposite the Concertgebouw, as it turned out." Flentrop pauses; then continues: "I still can't understand that a man like Schweitzer took the question of a youngster of 17 one-hundred-percent seriously."

Schweitzer suggested that Flentrop take an apprenticeship in Alsace. The idea appealed to the 17-year-old, but the French government wouldn't give him a work permit, even though Flentrop was prepared to work for nothing. And so Dirk ended up working for a small builder in Germany, Faust, at Schwelm, in the Ruhr area. Flentrop: "They made everything themselves, except for the pipes. The same was true for that organ builder of Schweitzer's, Dalstein-Haerpfer."

After a period at home in Zaandam, Flentrop went abroad again, this time with Frobenius in Denmark. Flentrop: "They built organs with pneumatic cone-chests, but with a free-standing console, so that the organist was able to conduct the choir from the organ. The pneumatic machine stood in the organ case; the action from the console to the machine was purely mechanical. And that worked fine. That was really my first step to a fully-mechanical action."

In 1934, the then 24-year-old Flentrop presented a paper at the conference of the Dutch Society of Organists, about "Slider chest and R?ºckpositiv." He remembers the paper mainly as an argument for mechanical action, which is almost automatically connected with those two elements. "At the time, many churches installed hot-air heating, so that one windchest after another broke down. I was therefore somewhat cautious in mentioning the slider chest. The difference in tone quality was something I didn't quite understand at the time either."

But the die was cast and in 1939 the Flentrop firm built its first organ with full mechanical action for the New York World's Fair. One year later, Flentrop took over the business from his father. The way in which this took place reflects both the family relationship and the social circumstances of the time.

Flentrop: "I had to buy the business, of course. At a ridiculously low price, but I didn't have a penny. So I borrowed the money from my father. We agreed that every month I would pay off so much that my parents could get by. Thankfully, I always managed to do that. But in those first few years, very little else was left."

An important milestone was the organ that Flentrop built in 1950 at Loenen aan de Vecht. Flentrop: "The one-manual B?§tz organ on top of the soundboard over the pulpit had burned down. The Historic Buildings Council wanted a copy of the B?§tz fa?ßade, but the organist wanted a two-manual organ with independent pedal and an electric console downstairs in the church because of the contact with the congregation. I definitely did not want an electric console, but I liked the idea of a two-manual organ with a R?ºckpositiv. The architect was a man called Ferdinand B. Jantzen, whom I liked a lot. He could draw very well, a real virtuoso, and understood what I wanted. I went to see him one Saturday morning with the requirements: the organ had to be close enough to the old B?§tz organ for the Historic Buildings Council to accept it; it had to be a two-manual organ with a small pedal; and the organist had to sit in front of the main case for the contact with the congregation. Jantzen sketched the design in no time; we hardly deviated from it later on." Flentrop gets the sketch out of his files; it's clearly the work of a practically-thinking artist. He continues: "That the R?ºckpositiv was so compact was the only possibility given the limited space. But when the organ was finished, I thought: gee, that sounds pretty nice. That was due to the compactness. At Loenen we also made part of the pipes ourselves: a Regal--that's all we could manage back then. I still had Schweitzer's words about craftsmanship in the back of my mind. That was the direction I wanted to take."

Flentrop thinks that he has just been very, very lucky in his life. "I was always in the right place at the right time," he says. "Take that encounter with Schweitzer. Without him I might never have been put on that track. It's coincidence, but on the other hand, you can't really call it that. In my opinion, there has to be guidance in one way or another. Not necessarily in a Christian sense, but guidance--yes, absolutely."

Coincidence or guidance, a similar event was the basis of Flentrop's contact with America, which was to develop into an enormous export of Flentrop organs to the U.S. Flentrop: "When things got really moving, we made half our annual turnover in America." Not surprisingly, the Dutch newspaper De Telegraaf dedicated one installment of their 1971 series of articles on major Dutch export firms to Flentrop Orgelbouw, along with firms like Heineken and Philips.

It all started with a visit of American organ consultant Dr. Robert Baker to the Netherlands. Baker met Flentrop at the dedication of the Flentrop organ in Wageningen in 1955. Baker was mainly impressed by the fact that Flentrop made everything themselves. He invited him to read a paper at the conference of the American Guild of Organists in New York. Flentrop thinks that Baker must have regretted extending that invitation often enough: "He was not in favor of mechanical action at all. He found us interesting because we were different from the Americans."

You were the clog maker who came to tell the Americans how clogs were still being handmade in good old Holland.

Flentrop: "Exactly. But the result was totally different: the Americans were terribly enthusiastic."

Another even more important contact was E. Power Biggs. Flentrop: "He had a radio program in which he introduced unknown organ music. He was very clever in finding old works. For example, he came up with those pieces for two organs by Soler. He would organize a second organ and play them with a colleague. Anyway, Power Biggs came to Europe to visit historic organs. He had a contact at the embassy, but the Dutch sextons gave him a hard time. So in the end they called me. As it happened, I didn't have much to do that day, so I said, OK, I'll come to Amsterdam. He and his wife were waiting for me in the hotel lobby, so that was pretty obvious. But after our conversation I said: Excuse me--what was your name again? He was perplexed: that I had come down all the way to Amsterdam without knowing that he was the famous E. Power Biggs!"

Power Biggs became the promoter of Flentrop organs in America. Flentrop: "Three months after our meeting I got a letter from him. He had gotten Harvard University to get an organ from me. After the organ was finished, he made a record with twice the same piece. On the one side, he played on an American organ with a stuffy 8-foot stop--what he called 'a dull sound.' On the other side was the same piece on the Flentrop organ, with flutes 8 and 2, I guess. You don't want to know how many letters I got because of that little record. Would I please build an instrument like that for this-or-that church, would I please contact them when I was in the States again, and so on."

A third reason for the American Flentrop boom was the Fulbright scholarships. Senator Fulbright thought a system of scholarships was the ideal way of helping to get Europe going in the post-World War II years and to let Americans profit from the European knowledge and culture. Countless American organists came to Europe as Fulbright Scholars, most of them as students of Helmut Walcha. Flentrop knew Walcha because of his recordings at the Alkmaar Schnitger, which had been restored by Flentrop.

Flentrop: "Walcha said to his students: Go see Flentrop--he's a good guy. Later on, some American remarked that Mrs. Flentrop--my first wife--had done more for American students in the form of cups of coffee than any international organization whatsoever."

From the democratically-thinking American churches Flentrop learned to say what's important in a plain and simple way. Flentrop: "The whole congregation had to be consulted on the purchase of a new organ. Would I be so kind to come and tell them all about it? Of course, they weren't going to buy an organ just like that. That was kind of scary. But anyway, about the direct contact at a mechanical organ I would tell them: Look, here's a violinist playing. But his violin is thirty feet away. Is that musical? All in pretty mediocre English, you know. But perhaps that was why I was able to make things clear. I was altogether unable to use difficult words."

Were you a born businessman, like so many people from the Zaanstreek?

Decisively: "Definitely not. In my enthusiasm for building beautiful organs I have often enough made too low an estimate. In doing so, I have often financially burned my fingers and the company's. On the other hand, there were business advantages as well. Because a part of the income in dollars was tax-deductible at the time, we were able to do things that would have been impossible otherwise. I was not so un-businesslike that I'd overlook things like that."

When we meet again, two weeks later, Flentrop appears to have thought a lot about our first conversation. "I really think that we started too late," he starts off. "I mean, Schweitzer, OK--but it really all started with my father, even before I was around. My dad was organist of the Westzijderkerk at Zaandam. The church had a small Duyschot organ with about fourteen stops.5 When the church was restored, around 1900, the organ too was taken care of. As a matter of fact, Steenkuyl6 built a new pneumatic organ behind the Duyschot fa?ßade, using, I believe, four Duyschot stops. Just imagine: the organ case was expanded from three to fourteen feet deep. Steenkuyl was a decent builder, but he was a child of his time, of course. My father became very disappointed with the organ renovation in the end. At first, there probably was the euphoria about the beautiful new console, but within a few years the action got slower and slower. As long as I can remember I heard lamentations about the Steenkuyl organ--and hymns of praise about the old Duyschot. 'With that organ, I could at least accompany the congregation properly,' my dad used to say."

"I think that, after all, that was perhaps what most determined the direction I wanted to take in organ building. I have always hated those Cornet-Mixtures that were quite common back then: Cornet in the treble, Mixture in the bass. That Steenkuyl organ in particular was reason for my attempt to make a clear and intense sounding organ. Organs with guts."

"That there turned out to be similarities with the Baroque organ, fine. But I have never pretended to be able to make a Baroque organ today. I found, you live in this era and you try to make something good now. I have always tried to make the console as comfortable as possible for organists today. I did not want your knees to hit the board all the time, as is often the case with historic organs; I liked the keyboards to stick out comfortably. In America, we also made radial pedalboards."

"Later we had to change this to an extent. Klaas Bolt7 thought it better not to sit so comfortably at the organ. If one was not so comfortable, the correct pedal articulations happened of their own accord--that was his way of thinking. Of course there is a connection with the construction of the keyboards and the action. If the key comes too far forward, the action becomes less direct."

"But the fact remains that I was more or less forced by the consultants to build more and more in historic traditions. I remember Harald Vogel visiting us at the end of the 1960s. We had just built an organ in Osnabr?ºck, Germany, and the design of the organ matched the Gothic architecture of the church. Of course, the fa?ßade reflected the inner construction of the organ. Vogel harshly criticized the austere design of the organ. In his opinion, one had to copy seventeenth-century organs very carefully. To him, each little profile influenced the sound. That was too much for me, frankly."

Flentrop has also made himself a big name as restorer of historic instruments. One of his first restorations was the Van Hagerbeer/Schnitger organ at Alkmaar. Forty years later, the organ was again restored by Flentrop Orgelbouw, although this time much more thoroughly. Flentrop: "I am very happy about that. The second restoration was so successful mainly because we had been so cautious the first time." The restraint at the first restoration was mostly due to Flentrop's personal respect for the old builders. Flentrop: "Mr. Bouman,8 who had a finger in the pie almost everywhere, was consultant. In his opinion, the Hauptwerk needed a Gedeckt 8 and a Flute 4. All right. But how to make a Gedeckt and a Flute? You cut off the old Quint 6 and Quint 3, put a cap on, and there's your Gedeckt. What did I do? I made a new Gedeckt and a new Flute, and put the old Quint 6 and 3 in storage in the bellow house of the organ. I wouldn't consider the idea of cutting-and-pasting Schnitger pipes for a split second. So, at the last restoration, those old Quints returned in the organ."

Alkmaar is not the only organ where time has overtaken a previous restoration. At the van Dam organ in Enschede,9 restored and modernized by Flentrop in the early 1950s, the changes Flentrop made in the stoplist have meanwhile been undone.

What do you think of the changes you made in the specification back then?

Without hesitation: "I would do it again. With that kind of organ, yes. Schnitger, no. Van Dam and Witte,10 yes. I thought, if I can improve something in these organs, I'll do it."

In other words, you wouldn't cry for the loss of the large Witte organ in The Hague?

"They should be happy that they got rid of it."

You must have regretted that it was not a Flentrop organ that took its place.

"Yes, that was a tough moment. But I do think the Metzler is a magnificent instrument."

It comes as no surprise that in building new organs, Flentrop drew inspiration from recent restorations. Flentrop: "When you restore an organ, it grabs you, it becomes part of you. It is hard to tell how exactly that influence becomes part of a new organ. But I am sure that if somebody would make a study of it, he could exactly demonstrate how the experience with restorations made itself felt in our new organs."

Flentrop has mixed feelings about the development of Dutch organ building since his retirement. Flentrop: "There are very many good organ builders. The technical knowledge is enormous and the artistic level is high. So far one can only be optimistic about the future. Personally, I find it a pity that so many organs are built in the style of this or the other eighteenth- or nineteenth-century builder. I would have loved to see a development toward a style of one's own. Perhaps it's a lack of creative power. Or the fear that an organ in a style of one's own will necessarily be less good than the historic organs."

"I have always wanted to build organs that radiated a certain strength. 'Here I stand--treat me with respect.' The idea that one has to be able to play everything on an organ is to me sheer nonsense, although I have to admit that I have tried to make such an instrument once or twice in the past. On the other hand, it's often amazes me how much literature can be played convincingly on an historic organ."

Flentrop sees two roads for the future of organ building: "I await the advent of a purely mechanical organ in a style of one's own. Not necessarily different from 300 years ago, but made now, not a copy. Another road is that of electronics, with pipes as a basis, perhaps, but with microphones and amplifiers one can do all sorts of things. I think that it may be possible to produce a kind of music with that kind of instrument that may be worthwhile for some people--as long as I don't have to make it! I don't disapprove of it; it's just a world that's totally strange to me."

"I have always tried to make an organ that is a unity, a simple unity. Of course, an organ is a multiple by its very nature. But nevertheless, one has to try to fit everything together harmoniously, so that the instrument presents itself as a unity. And simplicity--keep things simple. That is often difficult, because organists--excuse me--have a tendency to want more than is possible. When presented with a specification for a new organ, they always ask, can't you add this or that stop? They'll never ask you to take something out."

Not too long ago, he has read that with some philosopher or another: that beauty can only exist if the particular object is a perfect unity. "I just think that the man who can make that possible has yet to be born."

* Het Orgel 95 (1999), no. 4: 25-28 (with English summary). No changes have been made to the article, with the exception of the addition of the opening paragraph and of the endnotes. Translation by the author; I am indebted to Ronald Stolk for his valuable comments.

by Joseph Horning

Johannes Brahms, who died 100 years ago on April 3, 1897, composed the final installment of his musical legacy--the Eleven Chorale Preludes, Opus 122 --during the last year of his life. They were written during his summer holiday at Ischl, where Brahms had vacationed annually from 1889. But his final visit was clouded by Clara Schumann's recent death and his own illness, cancer of the liver, which had taken his father twenty-five years earlier and the symptoms of which he likely would have recognized.1

 

When considering Op. 122, it is valid to ask: "Are these works all that special?"--because no composer created an endless string of pearls. Indeed, Peter Williams revealed his reservations in a review in The Organ Quarterly:

[While] the stature of the man makes all his works interesting in some way or another, there is something depressing about this music.  I do not mean merely the death-centered theme of Op. 122 but the general tenor of the musical idioms found here, the kind of organ sound most suitable for them and the weird absence--considering who their composer was--of melodic flare or that dramatic sense of sonority and rhythmic impetus we know from the composer's symphonies.2

As these works are chorale preludes, Mr. Williams' mention of "melodic flare" is peculiar. And his comparison to the "sonority and rhythmic impetus" of Brahms' symphonies is irrelevant, as these are clearly miniatures, each wonderful and satisfying when played in an empathetic manner. But it is perhaps unfortunate that the complete organ works of Johannes Brahms--his four early works dating from 1856-7 and the "Eleven"--fit so conveniently on one CD, for they are becoming the most frequently recorded set of organ works, second only to Boëllmann's ubiquitous Suite Gothique. Unlike the latter, however, Brahms' "Eleven" are a collection rather then a suite, and their effectiveness is diminished when heard all at one sitting. I feel they have far more impact and are more enjoyable inserted one or two at a time into an eclectic program.

Clearly, what can be a small masterpiece in the hands of one can be tedious in the hands of another--and even more so for Op. 122.  For with these works, Brahms has hidden eleven treasures inside a maze. In this essay, we will examine the "Eleven" and discuss ways to make these treasures come alive.

Form of the Chorales

To begin, see Table 1 for a survey of the forms Johannes Brahms used in Op. 122.  In addition to simple harmonized treatments, Brahms embellished some chorales into aria form, extended some with interludes, or used each phrase as a motif for the accompanying parts (Pachelbel style), or surrendered to a free fantasy form in which the original melody is almost totally lost.3

One can see from Table 1 that half are on Passiontide or requiem themes.  But only number 10, based on the "passion" chorale, expresses the depths of the emotions implied by the text: "My heart is ever yearning for blessed death's release." Of those based on other themes, numbers 5 through 8 are warm, lovely and contemplative and number 4 is an outburst of joy. Even O Welt, ich muss dich lassen, the last of the "Eleven" and Brahms' final composition, is a gentle farewell to life. E. Power Biggs summed up these works very well in the Preface to his edition of Op. 122:

Composed in memory of his dearest and most faithful friend, Clara Schumann, at the same time the Preludes are a revealing document of Brahms' thoughts on his own life. One biographer, Niemann, points out that most of the Preludes are: "A retrospect and an epilogue, a salutation to youth and its ideals, and a farewell to this world which is, after all, so fair." Somber as many of the Preludes are, they yet have a warm, autumnal quality that is all Brahms' own.4

Baroque or Romantic?

Since the "Eleven" are cast in the traditional German form of chorale preludes, and since Brahms had applied himself diligently to the rediscovery of early music, in particular Bach with whose music he was quite conversant,5 there is the question of whether the interpretation should reflect performance practice of the late 19th century or early 18th century. The great body of Brahms' compositions show that he was a thoroughly Romantic composer of great power. His Classical inclinations, however, restrained him from some of the delicious excesses of, say, a Tchaikovsky. Brahms' "Eleven" require the performance practice of Brahms' age, not the Baroque. When Villa-Lobos' Bachianas Brasileiras, or Dupré's "Chorale in the Style of J. S. Bach" (Fifteen Antiphons), or Franck's Three Chorales are performed--all of which took their inspiration from Bach --the interpretive style should be that of the composer's age, not the 18th century.  So also with the "Eleven." Robert Schuneman makes a key point when he says:

One should not be deceived by the brevity of the chorale preludes, nor with an initial reaction to the printed page which makes them look like chamber music. Their religious nature, the sacredness, otherworldliness, the transcendental quality--all of this is expressed by Brahms (as in other Romantic music) with grandeur, monumentality, and weightiness in terms of organ sound in acoustic space.6

An initial look at the printed page has misled many an organist to think that the "Eleven" are as easy to play as they are short, but Brahms sophisticated writing often seems to jig where the hand wants to jog. Simply learning the notes is the organist's first task.  But it is remarkable how many organists confide that these works are often poorly played even if the notes are correct.  Indeed, Schuneman decried " . . . the stiff, unyielding, ungraceful and ragged performances which are so often heard . . . "7

A Romantic Framework

For idiomatic interpretations of Brahms' "Eleven," it helps to consider them within the context of the 19th century. Born in 1886 in Belgium, the renowned organ virtuoso Charles M. Courboin provides a link with that sensibility. His pupil, Richard Purvis, discusses Courboin's approach:

Courboin always returned to three elemental principles in the consideration of any piece. First, one had to consider the architecture of the work; second was texture; third was emotional content. The architecture was most important. "Where are the high points," he would ask, "and how are you going to do them justice? Where are the transitional points, at which you leave one mood and go to another?"

If the architecture defined the parameters of the piece, the texture was the actual landscape for which Courboin often used visual imagery as might describe an oil painting, an etching or a watercolor.  At other times he would discuss texture in more strictly musical terms: was it contrapuntal, harmonic, a combination of the two?  And what tools were you going to use to emphasize the texture rather than obscure it.  Once you had the architecture and had done justice to the texture, you could then afford to explore the fine points of the emotions you were trying to communicate.  Courboin constantly asked, "What emotions does the piece involve, conjure up, portray?"8

The Brahms Organ

Brahms did play the organ to some degree in the 1850s when he wrote the four early compositions. But as he was never a professional organist associated with a specific organ, there has been an active debate over the years concerning the ideal Brahms organ sound. For example, registrations recommended by Walter E. Buszin and Paul G. Bunjes reveal their ideal Brahms organ to be a Baroque affair on which one should draw no more than one 8' stop per division.9 The result is far from weight, grandeur and monumentality.

A key year in this discussion is 1833, the year of Brahms' birth and the year in which E. F. Walcker completed his first major achievement, a 3-manual, 74-voice trendsetter for the Paulskirche in Frankfurt.10 The Oberwerk had five 8' flues and the Schwellwerk had six. The structure of the 23-voice Hauptwerk was as follows: 32,16,16,16,8,8,8,8,51/3, 4,4,4,31/5,22/3,2,2,13/5,1,V,IV,V,16,8. Walcker built hundreds of organs based on similar principles throughout the 19th century, including a 3-manual, 61-voice instrument built in 1878 for the Votivkirch in Vienna,11 an organ which was certainly known to Brahms as he had settled permanently in Vienna in 1868.  The Oberwerk of the Votivkirch organ had four 8' flues and the Schwellwerk five. The structure of the 23-voice Hauptwerk is: 16,16,8,8,8,8,8,8,8,51/3, 31/5,4,4,4,22/3,2,2,VI,III,V,16,8,4.12 Franz Ebner, who recorded the "Eleven" on this organ, stated:

The instrument on which Brahms' art can most suitably be realized is not the Baroque organ but that type in which the endeavors of the 19th century to attain a full, warm, immediately arresting tone found fulfillment.13

However, a "Brahms organ" does not have to be huge or even large.  As Max Miller pointed out in his article, "The Brahms Chorale Preludes--Master Lesson," the small instruments in every organ culture aspire to the effects of large instruments and thus clearly indicate the idealized sound of the time.14 He offers this 1869 German stoplist in which 60% of the manual voices are of 8' pitch:

Hauptwerk: 16,8,8,8,4,III

Oberwerk: 8,8,8,4

Pedal: 16,16,8.

For a fuller discussion of organ design in 19th century Germany, see Robert Parkins' series of articles in The Diapason: "Rediscovering the German Romantic Organ" (January, February and March, 1989).

Registrations

Robert Schuneman devoted a full page of his Brahms article to excerpts from Hugo Riemann's Catechism of the Organ, which gives an insight into German organ playing from the period 1845 to 1895. This is most valuable reading for those who play Brahms. One of the key concepts is horizontal registrations.  That is, one first combines a succession of 8' stops--from the softest to the Diapason--to create a bed of unison sound to which one adds the Octave, the 16', the 22/3' Quinte, the reed, the 2' and the Mixture in that order. The manuals are coupled to achieve fuller effects, and "gap" registrations like 8'+2' are to be avoided unless the composer has specified it.15

In "Some Thoughts on the Sound of the Organ," John David Peterson offers valuable insights into the ideal Brahms "sound":

Brahms' orchestrations call for a rich blend of dark colors. His favored instruments were the horn, viola, violoncello and clarinet, and his piano works challenge the player to call forth half- and counter-melodies from the tenor register of thick textures. It is not surprising that his organ works share the same sense of musical color.16

The key word which sums up registrations for Op. 122 is "warmth." Thus it is surprising that Robert Schuneman would have said: "Strings, as we know them today [1972], and especially celestes, are not appropriate."17 German 19th century stoplists had many a Gemshorn, Salizional, Fugara and Viola da Gamba and the celesting stops Unda Maris and Voix Celeste were to be found.  If these sounds were part of the organ culture of Brahms' time, and if one of his favorite orchestral effects was massed cellos and violas, what better way can there be to realize Op. 122 than by including strings in the registrations? The quieter chorales--Nos. 5, 6, 8 and 11--are excellent candidates for a celeste. If one has a broad Violoncello Celeste, it might be just the thing for the pedal cantus in No. 10. And how better to let the final notes of No. 11 O Welt, ich muss dich lassen float up into heaven than with a quiet celeste?

Brahms' Markings

While Brahms didn't indicate registrations, he left dynamic indications which, coupled with the precepts in Riemann's Catechism, may well amount to the same thing (see Table 2).

The dynamic markings and performance indications would seem to be clear enough, with the possible exception of "dolce." In Dynamics in the Music of Johannes Brahms, Imogen Fellinger says that dolce implies a weakening of the given preceding dynamic strength, just as expressivo is an intensification of the predominant dynamic strength.18 This may well be so where the dynamic marking is forte. Thus "forte ma dolce" in numbers 1, 3, and 11 would translate "loud but sweetly" or "loud but not strident." However, it seems a bit of a stretch to say that "dolce" in numbers 5 and 8 actually implies a dynamic slightly softer than the indicated "piano." It probably calls for a "sweet" or "gentle" interpretation and has nothing to do with dynamics. In support of this, note that only numbers 2, 7, 9 and 10 are without the "dolce." What is different about them from the rest? Both 2 and 9 are sturdy and forthright (the latter remarkably so), number 7 is a combination of urgency and melancholy, and number 10 is characterized by great pathos.

Tempo

In preparing this article, I studied fourteen organ recordings of Op. 122 and two of the Busoni piano transcriptions of Nos. 4-5 and 8-11. The range of tempi is remarkable. The slowest interpretations of the complete "Eleven" take 42 minutes whereas the fastest last but 21 minutes--half as long, or twice as fast.  The median19 duration was 321/2 minutes. See Table 3.

It is easier and clearer to discuss the tempos of these works, which as Romantic works are subject to considerable rubato, using the duration of the piece rather than metronome indications. The player who wishes to play Brahms musically would be well advised to avoid the extremes of tempo. Speeding through these works with the fastest tempos renders them meaningless and trite, but performances with the slowest tempos lacked energy and were often boring and stultifying. I found it of passing personal interest that the tempos at which I play these pieces are, in most cases, pretty close to the median. These median durations would seem to be a good starting place for those attempting to discover the ideal tempos.

Rubato

In his essay, "Playing Around With Tempo," Robert Schuneman describes tempo rubato:

Most music is mechanical without it in some form. On the other hand, the same music may turn into a caricature of its own intent and content with too much of it poorly applied. It is the most difficult of all musical terms to describe in words, and it takes an extremely sensitive player to use it well.20

As rubato is so difficult to describe in words, I would recommend Arthur Rubenstein's renditions of the Chopin Nocturnes as a most exquisite example of rubato in 19th century music.21

One might divide music into two types: objective and subjective. With objective music, of which Brahms' early a-minor and g-minor Prelude and Fugue are two good examples, if you play all the notes in a reasonably steady tempo, you achieve 80% of the composer's intent.  With subjective music, of which the "Eleven" are an excellent example, if you simply play all the notes in a reasonably steady tempo you realize absolutely none of the musical content the composer put into the work. The worst performances (with the notes played correctly) one will ever hear of Op. 122 are those in which, to paraphrase the popular song, "the beat goes on."

Schuneman makes an excellent point which is quite relevant to Op.122:

With the emergence after 1830 of free forms, program music, salon music, and the seeking out of emotional content over form, declamatory expression (free tempo rubato) became much more indispensable to good performance.  Furthermore, as the 19th  century progressed, tempo rubato became increasingly tied to dynamics. Accelerando means crescendo and vice-versa; ritardando means diminuendo and vice-versa.22

The most important performance points here are that in Op. 122, the beat itself is modified, which is a considerably further modification of tempo than the 18th century notion of rubato, where the melody in the right hand was subject to rubato but the beat in the left hand was not.23

Chorale No. 5, Schmücke dich, provides a clear illustration of the above points. Consider Figure 1, which is a harmonization of the chorale, as it would be sung. The added crescendo and decrescendo markings--not to be overdone, of course--simply indicate what any good choir would do intuitively. This music, all music, for that matter, is meant to be performed expressively. So apply this dynamic pattern to Brahms' realization of the chorale in Figure 2 (expression marks added to the Henle edition). If played on the Swell 8' flues, subtle opening and closing of the swell box is no problem. Per the above discussion of rubato, a subtle accelerando would accompany the crescendo and a ritardando comes with the diminuendo. One might alternatively describe this as a slight increase and decrease in intensity. Then there is the syncopated rhythmic pattern in the left hand which Brahms notated as shown in Figure 3, the way George Bozarth would have preferred to notate it in the Henle edition.24 Then there are the delicious dissonances, Brahms beloved major seconds, which Samuel Swartz always said "Brahms put there to linger over." And finally, there are the notes here and there to which, in expressive playing, one gives agogic accents. Integrate all of this into a performance and one has a small masterpiece. Play it straight on through ignoring these factors, on the other hand, and one has a very trite rendition.

Another excellent example of the necessity for rubato is in Chorale No, 11, O Welt, ich muss dich lassen. The structure of the work has a forte section followed by a piano section followed by a pianissimo section--which is repeated six times. Whether Brahms is simply using a series of echos or is referring to the vigor of youth, the mellowness of middle age and the weakness of old age we cannot know. But all of the pianissimo sections need to end with a ritard and a pronounced pause before beginning the next forte section. It is truly amazing that many play this work as if a metronome were clicking inside their heads, rushing past the pianissimo to get at that forte just in the nick of time. See Figure 4 for the interpretation marks I would suggest, and heed Max Miller's advice:

The variables of building and organ will dictate how much time is to be allowed and how freely the echoes should be taken. The non-harmonic tones require spaciousness and breadth in performance.  Time, for Brahms, has with this last composition ceased its hurry and its very meaning.25

Yet another reason for rubato is to give meaning to one of Brahms' favorite rhetorical gestures, the sigh motiv.  Consider the first four bars of O Gott, du frommer Gott (Figure 5), where the sigh motives are indicated by a bracket.  They are descending in mm. 2-3 and inverted in mm. 4-5.  Played in a metronomical tempo, these gestures are as musical as the regular clicks and whirs of factory machinery.  Played with a slight relaxation of tempo, they define the essence of Op. 122.

Indicated Phrasing

In addition to the dynamic and tempo markings, Brahms indicates a wealth of phrasing. Consider the first four bars of No. 1 in Figure 6. Brahms clearly and deliberately sets out a phrasing pattern which leaves little doubt of his intentions. In No. 3, however, there may be some question about the two-note slurs (see Figure 7). Some organists misinterpret these slurs as phrasing marks, and play the two eighth note figures as an eighth and a sixteenth, with a sixteenth rest before the next group begins. This misguided approach gives a jerky, frenetic sound which is the antithesis of the feeling of the chorale, O Welt, ich muss dich lassen. What Brahms meant by these markings was to give a slight stress to the first note of the groupings of two eighth notes. If strings played this piece, there would be the slightest, almost infinitesimal, pause in the sound as the bows changed direction between the eighth-note groupings. And this is precisely how it should be played on the organ.

It is in the very pianistic No. 4 that the precision markings in the Urtext Henle edition clearly communicate Brahms' intentions--markings which are changed or omitted in some other editions. See Figure 8 for the first four bars of No. 4. The quarter notes in the alto voice form a melody in which some notes are held longer than the precise note values, as indicated by the secondary slurs. In bars 1 and 3 the notes marked A are held for two beats,26 in bar 2 the note marked B is held for five beats, and in bar three the note marked C is held for three beats. This is consistent with 19th  century piano practice.

Leslie Spelman, who has spent a good bit of his extraordinarily long career promoting the "Eleven" in both recital and masterclass, sees a parallel to the above technique in No. 10 (see Figure 9). The notes with the horizontal bars added above them form a melody, and Dr. Spelman suggests holding them beyond their indicated value. The notes with the added slurs are to be held even longer. All the while, observing Brahms' molto legato indication and keeping the pulse nicely articulated in the bass.27 This exquisite chorale is also very pianistic and, in fact, is marvelously realized on the piano with a cello playing the cantus. Organists have been ending this piece with an a minor chord for nearly a century, and the A Major ending in the new editions--correcting an error in reading Brahms' autograph by the original editor Mandyczewski--sounds very strange to ears accustomed to the minor ending. But Henle edition editor George Bozarth points out that all of the minor-key preludes in the "Eleven" do, in fact, end with a Picardy third.28 A pronounced ritard in the penultimate measure and a generous observance of Brahms' indicated Adagio in the final bar does "set up" the A Major chord.

Soloing Out Melodies

In several of the Chorales, Brahms allows a clearly discernible melody in the soprano to move moments later to an inner voice where it can be obscured by the accompaniment above it. For example, this happens in measures 5-6 and 14-16 of Es ist ein Ros' entsprungen and measures 28-31 and 38-41 of O Gott, du frommer Gott. There are two schools of thought on this challenge.  Vernon Gotwals feels it is wrong to solo out melodies because this:

. . . shows an unawareness of the abstract nature of Brahms' conception.  It is wrong to emphasize any voice in the manner of the piano in these organ pieces, as Brahms knew that the melody would be lost when it dipped into the tenor in No. 7 or climbed from tenor to alto in No. 8. His subtle conception is destroyed by those who cannot forebear going beyond his precise registrational directions simply because it is physically possible to do so.29

Of course, this implies that in Op. 122 Brahms' conception was a total departure from almost everything he had written before. In his previous compositions, the pianists, instrumentalists and vocalists were able to emphasize and bring out musical lines in a way most suitable for the performance. I find it very unlikely that Brahms would prohibit emphasis of these obscured melodic lines--in fact, he probably would find the very question incomprehensible.

There are two ways to treat these lines. One can choose "solo" stops of exactly the same character as the accompaniment so that the principal difference between solo and accompaniment is volume, or one can choose a contrasting tone color. The former approach is probably more characteristic, although I must confess that the temptation to solo the tenor portions of Es ist ein Ros' on a Clarinet is very strong. The Clarinet was one of Brahms' favorite instruments, and if one has a nice one it may serve quite well. One doesn't have to play these works exactly the same way each and every time. The tenor melody in Es ist ein Ros' can be played on the pedals as suggested in the Biggs' edition (see Figure 10). But an alternative solution, which Leslie Spelman learned from Joseph Bonnet, is to play both the bass and tenor on the pedals starting on the third beat of m. 5, leaving the left hand free to solo the melody (see Figure 11).30

O Gott, du frommer Gott is one of the longest and most graceful of the chorales. One can very easily play the cantus on the Pedal 4' Chorale Bass. Draw 8' stops (at least the 8' Diapason and flute) on both the Great and Swell and couple them. Thus in the forte sections played on the Great, the Swell box can give an arch to the line. And in the piano sections played on the Swell, the box allows expression and perfect balance whether the solo soars out above or is buried within the accompaniment. The timbre of the Chorale Bass would be quite similar to the Diapason and flute of the Swell, with just a boost to the volume (see Figure 12). For emphasis one can add the Swell 4' Octave in measures 22-26, 50-54 and during the final five bars, but there is no indication that the forte section with which the work concludes should be significantly louder than the forte section with which it begins.

Repeated Notes

In the slower of Brahms' chorales, repeated notes in the soprano and bass should always be articulated, but there are some decisions to make about the inner voices. No. 11 O Welt, ich muss dich lassen is an excellent case in point. Though instances occur throughout the piece, the final three bars with their implied molto ritardando are critical. One might very well separate all the repeated notes in a room with five seconds reverberation. But see Figure 13 for a suggestion of adding ties on the inner voices to have the feeling of repetition without choppiness. This is not to say that Brahms should "ooze." In mm. 24-25 of the same chorale are two instances where added phrasing marks in the left hand and pedal can help set up the ending (see Figure 14).

Conclusion

Brahms' Chorale Preludes are very special compositions. As Fenner Douglas once observed, it's too bad for organists that Brahms didn't have a church job for a while, so that we might have more works from this master. I would urge those interested to seek out the cited articles by Bozarth, Gotwals, Miller, Peterson and Schuneman for a broader scope and fuller understanding of the problems and possibilities these works present. Playing these works expressively on the piano is also very helpful, as is experimenting with legato and super legato touch on the organ. Those who unlock the secrets of Op. 122 will not just have gained eleven lovely pieces for their repertoire--they will have learned things of inestimable value which they can apply in countless other works. n

Appendix: Survey of Opus 122 Recordings

The Early Recordings

Of the four late '50s and early '60s recordings, the best are by Robert Noehren and Franz Eibner, but none of them leaves you wishing for a reissue on CD. Dr. Noehren's Brahms (Lyrichord LLST 7123) is well played with sufficient rubato and convincing transitions between sections. But both of the Noehren organs he recorded on were totally unenclosed 2-manual organs with Positiv rather than Swell. The lack of a swell box and absence of registrational variety limited this recording.

Franz Eibner (Teldec SLT 43018-B) had the best organ of the early LPs. The 3-manual, 61-voice Walcker in Vienna's Votivkirche dates from 1878 and was certainly heard by Brahms. The organ's sound--with its rich palette of flutes, strings and principals--is most appropriate to Brahms. Eibner's playing, though consistently a bit stiff, borders on satisfactory, with suitable rubato at times but some awkward transitions. Some chorales, like Schmücke dich, he trots through with no regard to musical subtleties.

The other two early recordings are very disappointing. Karl Richter's recording on the Steinmeyer in the Herkules-Saal in München (Deutsche Grammophon 138906 SLPM) features a most unattractive organ sound. His registrations overemphasize screechy upperwork and de-emphasize the fundamental, sometimes creating a "music box" effect. Richter's playing is completely insensitive to the music, charging right through Opus 122 from start to finish.

Kurt Rapf's recording on the organ of Vienna's Ursulinenklosters is even worse, with an organ sound lacking fundamental but featuring prominent chiff on the manuals and a loud, deep and murky pedal sound. The plenum on No. 11 has searing mixtures, snarly reeds, booming bass and no "middle." Rapf's playing displays the fastest tempos at which these pieces have ever been recorded. All of the notes are there, but none of the music.

The Best of the Modern Recordings

(Note: All the CDs except Arkay include the complete works of Brahms.)

One of the most satisfying recordings to date is by Carole Terry on the 4-manual Flentrop of St. Mark's Cathedral in Seattle (Musical Heritage Society MHS 512523M). Blessed with a rich palette of principals and flutes in a gorgeous acoustic, the organ has a fine sound although the pair of Gemshorns on the Swell are a far cry from real strings. This recording was made before the recent rebuild added a wonderful 32' Posaune to the Pedal and an 8' Trumpet to the Great, plus enabled the 32' Prestant to actually speak. Ms. Terry's playing is simply elegant. She has a real empathy with Brahms and uses rubato and phrasing to create a truly musical result. The two settings of Herzlich tut mich verlangen are the high point of the recording: No. 9 is quite virile on a big registration and No. 10 is the essence of sensitivity.

Another fine recording on LP, unfortunately out of print, is by Bernard Lagacé (Titanic TI-38).  He recorded Opus 122 on the 1977 2-manual 23-voice Wolff organ in New York's Eighth Church of Christ Scientist. The neoclassic design has its limitations for Brahms, but Lagacé uses it fully and well. His playing is inventive, lively and sensitive.  Hopefully this recording will be reissued on CD.

Nicholas Danby made an elegant recording on the organ of the Church of the Immaculate Conception in London (CRD 3404). This 3-manual 44-voice organ is of some historical interest, having been built by Anneesens in 1876, rebuilt by Bishop in 1914, and completely remodeled in 1926 by Henry Willis III to the designs of G. Donald Harrison and Guy Weitz (organist from 1917 to 1967). Its virile plenum (with tierce mixtures), typically English reeds, rich foundations and colorful flutes make for a varied listening experience. Unfortunately, Danby failed to use the two sets of strings, but his playing is imaginative, solid and sensitive. A high point is an attractively up-tempo rendition of Herzlich tut mich erfreuen with well handled transitions between the forte and piano sections, and a sensible (that is to say, slight) volume differential between the sections. All in all, a rewarding experience.

The Interesting Middle Ground

Georges Athanasiadès has made a charming recording on the huge 103-stop Jann organ of 1989 in the lush acoustics of the wildly Baroque Basilica of Waldsassen (Tudor 790). It missed the first tier only because of a severe lapse of taste on the chorale No. 1, where the cantus in the pedal is registered on flue stops plus a set of tubular bells--the effect is ghastly. But in the remaining ten chorales, Athanasiadès proves to be a resourceful player who provides the most tasteful registrational variety of all the recordings. In Herzliebster Jesu and O wie selig he goes to an extraordinary effort to solo out the melody--unnecessary, but interesting and not at all unpleasant. He makes tasteful use of the tremulant on the pedal cantus of the second Herzlich tut mich verlangen and on a splendid rendition of Es ist ein ros'. In the final chorale he exhibits a sensitive balance between the forte, piano and pp sections, with a very attractive string celeste based pp section. Clearly Mr. Athanasiadès has many good ideas and much to offer on this CD.

Jean-Pierre Leguay, one of the four titular organists of Notre Dame in Paris, has made an impressive recording on the monumental 4-manual 1890 Cavaillé-Coll at the Abbey of Saint Ouen in Rouen (Euro Muses 590073 AD 184).  This organ--lavishly equipped with diapasons, a great variety of flutes, several sets of strings and reeds galore--is actually not far from what one might consider an "ideal" Brahms organ. All the stops are colorful, and there is a great amount of variety in the 8' range. The massed unison stops, which are exhibited in Herzliebster Jesu, sing beautifully. For a climactic effect, nothing in the recorded literature of Opus 122 quite matches the final section of the first chorale, where Mr. Leguay adds the 32' Bombarde to an already grand plenum. Some of the chorales, Nos. 4-6 and 11 for example, are given a rather indifferent treatment, but O Gott, du frommer Gott sparkles in a high-energy high-volume treatment with reeds in both the forte and piano sections. A tasteful Es ist ein Ros' alternates a beautiful string celeste with a quiet flute. Opting for contrast and clarity, Mr. Leguay gives the pedal cantus in Herzlich tut mich verlangen to a Trompette. This recording is recommended for generally excellent playing and a quite stupendous sound.

Jacques van Oortmerssen chose the 1906 Setterquist organ of the Kristine Church in Falun, Sweden for his recording of the works of Brahms (BIS-CD-479). This 2-manual 30-stop instrument is based on the French Romantic organs of Cavaillé-Coll, but the sound is a far cry from St. Ouen. There are some lovely individual stops, but the plenum with pedal is murky and a 2' Octava sticks out rather than blending. Oortmerssen's usually elegant playing is uneven, with one chorale singing and soaring and the next plodding quirkily along. He does observe the implied crescendo in O wie selig and builds to a satisfying forte.

Herman Schäffer chose a 4-manual 92-stop 1911 Steinmeyer at the Christuskirche in Mannheim for his Brahms recording (Motette CD 10711). This instrument offers generally attractive sounds and great variety, but Schäffer's playing is uneven. Herzliebster Jesu has no energy and a painfully slow O Welt, ich muss dich lassen (No. 3) falls flat, but these are followed by an energetic and stylish Herzlich tut mich erfreuen.  Schäffer loves contrast, and solos the melody in Schmücke dich on an oboe, the pedal cantus in Herzlich tut mich verlangen (No. 10) on a trumpet, and the melody in O wie selig on a Nazard combination (with the bass played on a heavy and murky 16' pedal). In Es ist ein Ros', Herzlich tut mich verlangen (No. 9) and O Welt, ich muss dich lassen (No. 11) the contrast between the forte and piano sections is far too great. Within these works, however, there are registrations of great beauty, including some luscious string celestes. In sum, the playing and interpretations are uneven and the largely original historic organ is of interest.

Recordings Of Lesser Merit

One might think that recording Brahms on a 1965 4-manual 56-stop Marcussen organ would give a thin, chiffy and uncharacteristic sound (Nimbus NI 882 286-909). On the organ at the Odense Domkirche this is not so, although the upperwork (used only in the first chorale) is too intense. Kevin Bowyer's registrations prove that this instrument can give an appropriate sounds to Opus 122. His playing is another matter, though--tempos seem either to be too fast or too slow. For example, he makes a race out of Herz-lich tut mich erfreuen. But whether the tempo is fast or slow, he doesn't offer much more than the notes. In O Welt, ich muss dich lassen (No. 3) he misinterprets the slurs over the two eighth note groups for a very choppy result. His favorite chorale would seem to be Herzlich tut mich verlangen (No. 10), as he gives a very sensitive performance of it (at 4:38 the slowest of all the recorded performances) with a lush sound and a lovely articulate solo flute with tremulant for the cantus solo. Would that the other ten chorales had had this degree of attention.

Jonathan Dimmock recorded Opus 122 on a 2-manual 26-stop Frobenius at St. Stephen's Episcopal in Belvedere, California (Arkay AR 6113). A visceral involvement with the music seems to be missing, and there are some note problems. Dimmock followed a basically conservative approach to registration, passing on the opportunity for a true forte even for No. 9 Herzlich tut mich verlangen. Although he did make good use of the Gambe Celeste in two chorales, it was an unfortunate choice to solo the melody in O Gott du frommer Gott on the Swell Oboe, because this precluded a significant contrast between the forte and piano sections, a key element of the work.  Whereas O wie selig is satisfying with a nice Oboe combination, No. 11 O Welt, ich muss dich lassen receives a perfunctory performance without the crucial implied ritards between the pp and forte sections.

Robert Parkins recording on the large Flentrop in the Duke University Chapel would seem to have a lot going for it (Naxos 8.550824). A lush acoustic, large organ, talented performer. Large as the Flentrop is, however, is has no expressive divisions and no strings--one wonders how Opus 122 would have fared on the spectacular Aeolian at the front end of Duke Chapel. Parkins gets around this limitation well, however, and the massed 8' tones provide needed warmth. His tempos are the key problem--Nos. 1, 2, 3, 7 and 9 are or are among the slowest tempos on record. The energy of these pieces drains away and you are left wanting to shout "Get on with it!" Balance this criticism with artful performances of No. 4, 6, 10 and an especially sensitive rubato in No. 11. Interesting though flawed, but at a bargain price.

Rudolph Innig's performance of Opus 122 has little to recommend it (Dabringhaus and Grimm MD+GL 3137). The 3-manual Klais organ at St. Dionysius in Rheine is a lightweight neoclassical design with lots of mutations which Innig, unfortunately, uses.  His interpretations feature separated pickups, which are decidedly un-Brahmsian, and a general lack of sensitivity to the music.

 

Notes

                  1.              Heinz Becker, "Johannes Brahms," The New Grove Dictionary of Music and Musicians, 1980, Vol. 3, p. 161.

                  2.              Peter Williams, Review in The Organ Quarterly.

                  3.              Anonymous essay on "Brahms' 11 Chorale Preludes" on Lyrichord LP (LL 123).

                  4.              E. Power Biggs, Preface, Brahms' Chorale Preludes, Mercury Music Corporation, 1949, p. 2.

                  5.              Becker, op. cit., pp. 173-174.

                  6.              Robert Schuneman, "Brahms and the Organ," Music/The AGO-RCCO Magazine, September, 1972, p. 34.

                  7.              Schuneman, op. cit., p. 34.

                  8.              Jonathan Ambrosino, "Lessons with Dr. Courboin--A Conversation with Richard Purvis," The Erzähler, Volume 4, Number 3, January, 1995, pp. 3-4.

                  9.              Brahms' Complete Organ Works, ed. by Walter E. Buszin and Paul G. Bunjes, Edition Peters.

                  10.           Peter Williams, The European Organ 1450-1850, published by The Organ Literature Foundation, 1967, pp. 94-95.

                  11.           Vernon Gotwals, "Brahms and the Organ," Music/The AGO-RCCO Magazine, April, 1970, p. 42.

                  12.           Günter Lade, Orgeln in Wien, Austria, 1990, p. 184.

                  13.           Franz Ebner, Program Notes to Teldec LP: SLT 43018-B.

                  14.           Max B. Miller, "The Brahms Chorale Preludes Master Lesson," TAO, April, 1979, pp. 43-46.

                  15.           Schuneman, op. cit., pp. 32-33.

                  16.           John David Peterson, "Some Thoughts on the Sound of the Organ," The Diapason, April, 1981, p. 16.

                  17.           Schuneman, op. cit., p. 34.

                  18.           Imogen Fellinger, Uber die Dynamik in der Musik von Johannes Brahms, (Berlin and Wunsiedel: Hesse 1961), p. 20. Translated by and cited in Schuneman, op. cit., p. 34.

                  19.           The "median" is the middle value in a distribution of data--half of the times are shorter and half are longer than the median.

                  20.           Robert A. Schuneman, "Playing Around With Tempo," The Diapason, May, 1970, p. 16.

                 21.           Arthur Rubenstein, The Chopin Nocturnes, RCA 5613-2-RC (two CD set).

                  22.           Schuneman, "Tempo," op. cit., p. 16.

                  23.           Peter Hurford, Making Music on the Organ, Oxford University Press, 1990, p. 67.

                  24.           George S. Bozarth, "Brahms Organ Works: A New Critical Edition," The American Organist, June, 1988, p. 56.

                  25.           Miller, op. cit., p. 46.

                  26.           Less a brief "lift" on the first quarter note in measure one, so it can sound again on beat three.

                  27.           Leslie Spelman, in a February, 1995, masterclass.

                  28.           Bozarth, op. cit., p. 57.

                  29.           Gotwals, op. cit., p. 48.

                  30.           Masterclass, February, 1995.

Permission to reproduce segments from Werke für Orgel granted by G. Henle Verlag.

 

Other articles of interest:

Franz Liszt and Johann Gottlob Töpfer: A Fruitful Relationship in Weimar

Théodore Dubois and César Franck at Sainte-Clotilde

Brahms Opus 122 in score