Alan Morrison Russian debut

Michael Barone is host and producer of American Public Media’s Pipedreams program, which celebrates its 25th anniversary in 2007. Pipedreams can be heard on radio stations across the country, also on XM Satellite Radio Channel 133 and in Hong Kong on Radio Four. Barone is a native of northeastern Pennsylvania, a music history graduate of the Oberlin Conservatory, and a nearly 39-year employee of Minnesota Public Radio.

John Weaver, one of the America’s finest concert organists, celebrates his 70th birthday on April 27, 2007. The following interview is offered in honor of this milestone.
Dr. Weaver was director of music at Madison Avenue Presbyterian Church in New York City from 1970–2005, and served as head of the organ department at the Curtis Institute of Music in Philadelphia 1971–2003, and also chair of the organ department at the Juilliard School 1987–2004.
His formal musical studies began at the age of six, and at age 15 he began organ study with Richard Ross and George Markey. His undergraduate study was at the Curtis Institute as a student of Alexander McCurdy, and he earned a Master of Sacred Music degree at Union Theological Seminary. In 1989 John Weaver was honored by the Peabody Conservatory with its Distinguished Alumni Award. He has received honorary Doctor of Music degrees from Westminster College, New Wilmington, Pennsylvania, and the Curtis Institute of Music. In 2005 he was named “International Performer of the Year” by the New York City chapter of the American Guild of Organists.
In addition to his work at the Curtis Institute and the Juilliard School, he has taught at Westminster Choir College, Union Theological Seminary, and the Manhattan School of Music. He has written numerous articles for organ and church music magazines and has served as president of the Presbyterian Association of Musicians.
Dr. Weaver has been active as a concert organist since coming under management in 1959. He has played throughout the USA, Canada, Western Europe, the United Kingdom, and Brazil. He has performed on national television and radio network programs in the U.S. and Germany, and has made recordings for Aeolian-Skinner, the Wicks Organ Company, Klais Orgelbau of Germany, a CD on Gothic Records for the Schantz Organ Company, and a recording on the Pro Organo label on the new Reuter organ at University Presbyterian Church in Seattle. His most recent recording, “The Organ and Choral Music of John Weaver,” is available on the JAV label and features his own organ and choral compositions. His published compositions for organ, chorus/organ and flute/organ are widely performed.
He currently lives in Vermont and continues to concertize and lead workshops and masterclasses around the world. The Weavers love to climb the New England mountains, and have a tradition of an annual ascent of Mt. Washington. Marianne is an avid gardener, and John’s hobby is a deep fascination with trains, both model and prototype.
This interview took place July 11, 2005, at the Weaver home in the rolling countryside near West Glover, Vermont.

MICHAEL BARONE: How did John Weaver stumble into the world of the organ?
JOHN WEAVER: We moved away from the little town where I spent the first four and a half years of my life. I have very few recollections of that place, except one of them that’s very strong—the organ at the church where my father was the pastor had a wonderful sound on low E. Something about the 16' stop on that organ resonated in the room in a glorious way, and I fell in love with that. As soon as I learned how to play a few notes on the piano, my favorite thing was to hold down the sustaining pedal and play an arpeggio—slowly at first—and just listen to it ring like an organ. Something in me has always been attracted to that sound.
MB: With whom did you study and how would you characterize those years?
JW: My first organ lessons were with a wonderful organist in Baltimore, Richard Ross. He died at age 39 shortly after having given me a lesson on a Saturday afternoon—just failed to show up the next day at church. Ross was becoming one of the best-known and finest organists in the country. When I first went to him, at the age of 15, instead of auditioning me at the organ, he told me to go up onto the stage of the Peabody concert hall and play for him on the piano. Well, there was a big Steinway up there, but the thing that really interested me was the 4-manual E. M. Skinner. I could hear air escaping from it, and I coveted playing that instrument so badly that I can feel it still today.
Nevertheless, Ross told me that he wanted to hear me play something on the piano. So, I stumbled through my Mozart sonata that was not really very good at that point, and afterward he said to me, “I don’t want you to study organ yet. You need to study at least another year of piano and really work at it very hard.” And then he also said something that I’ve always remembered: “If in the meantime you study organ with anybody else, I will never teach you.”
Well, I took his advice, and I went back to my piano teacher and really did work for a year—then came back the next year and played for Ross again. This time I played the Beethoven “Pathétique,” and I played it pretty well. Ross said, “OK, now you can start studying organ, but you must continue to study piano as well.”
Fortunately I had a very good piano teacher, and I studied with Ross for about a year and a half, until his death. The Peabody Conservatory brought in George Markey as an interim to fill out the rest of that academic year. While I was studying with Markey, at this point as a senior in high school, he said “Where are you going to go to school next year?” I just assumed I would go to Peabody because we lived in Baltimore, and Markey said, “Well, have you considered auditioning for the Curtis Institute of Music?” And I remember asking him, “Where is that?” I was soon to find out a lot about Curtis and also about the great teacher there, Alexander McCurdy. I did audition and was accepted, and had four glorious years in Philadelphia.

MB: McCurdy is something of a legend, and the stories about him are numerous. I expect you have more than a few.
JW: I’ve described him on numerous occasions as an Old Testament figure. He was someone you both loved and feared at the same time—certainly, not one to suffer fools. If you went into a lesson unprepared, you were sure to get a dressing down that would do a drill sergeant credit. But when words of praise came, they were so precious and so rewarding that they could light you up for a whole week. He was a very liberal teacher in that he did not insist on playing any piece of music in any certain way. Within that department at that time we had about six students—there was one student who was very much a disciple of E. Power Biggs, and there were others of us who were much more in the Virgil Fox camp. That was sort of the nature of the department, but McCurdy was as enthusiastic about the fellow who was a Neo-Baroquist as he was about the rest of us. That person, by the way, is Temple Painter, who is one of the leading harpsichordists in the city of Philadelphia and still plays organ as well.

MB: What were McCurdy’s techniques to get the best out of students? What did he create in you that might not have been there before? And then how did you take what you learned from McCurdy and shape that with your own personality?
JW: McCurdy had several ways of getting the best from us. I’ll never forget my first lesson: he assigned a chorale prelude from the Orgelbüchlein, which I had not played, and he said, “Mr. Weaver, I’d like you to play this next week from memory in organ class.” Well, right away it was jump-starting; and seven, eight hours a day of practicing became the norm. At my second lesson, he assigned the Vierne Cantabile, from the second symphony, and said, “I’d like you to play that next week in organ class in front of your peers.” Well, that was really a struggle. And he did that for about three weeks at the beginning of the four years. After that, he never assigned a piece again. But he got me into the habit of learning—I knew he expected that kind of production from week to week.
That’s a Curtis tradition that was started by Lynnwood Farnam, continued by Fernando Germani and by McCurdy, and I believe is still the case—each student comes every week with a new piece memorized to play in class. This could be a little one-page chorale prelude for manuals alone, or it could be a major prelude and fugue, a big romantic work, or a modern work—you could repeat something from previous classes, but you always had to have a new piece also. It got us into the habit of assuming when you started to learn a piece that you were eventually going to play it from memory. There are some pieces that I have never been able to play from memory. I’ve memorized a fair amount of Messiaen, but with more atonal pieces, I find that I am just not comfortable playing without the score.

MB: The challenge for the organist, of course, is that each instrument is different from the next and requires its own learning process. The traveling recitalist comes to a church, gets used to the instrument, gets used to the instrument’s response in the room, and then tries to make music with the repertoire that you’ve brought to town. Perhaps it’s no wonder that fewer organists want to memorize these days, but there’s still something about a performer totally connected to and deeply involved in the music that is missing when a score is being read.
JW: There is always the problem of the page-turner—or, if one turns one’s own pages, that has its risks as well. Page-turners can sometimes pull music down off the rack inadvertently, or pull a page right out of the book, or turn two pages—there are lots of risks. Page-turners also have a tendency sometimes to hum or to tap their foot. I’ve even known some who think it’s safe to step on the pedalboard to reach a page that’s far out of the way—that really does produce a catastrophe.
I guess it doesn’t make a lot of difference if the console is completely hidden. I wouldn’t know if someone was playing from memory or not, but pianists, violinists, singers are expected to walk on stage and play from memory. It’s harder for organists, yes. I like to have 12 to 15 hours at an instrument before I’m ready to play a recital on it. If I had 20 hours it would be better still. If I had 25, I would find a few more things to make that instrument come across in the very best possible way and the music to be the best that I could do. That kind of time is rarely available, but 12 to 15 hours is a norm.

MB: I always get the sense watching you that you really enjoy playing. Now is this actually true or are you just a very good actor?
JW: If it looks like I’m having fun, I’m glad for that because in a way, I am. I also am constantly aware of the pitfalls—how many things might happen that you don’t want to happen and sometimes do. But I do enjoy playing. I love playing recitals, though it scares me, and five minutes before the recital I ask myself “Why did I ever agree to do this?” But once I start playing, why, that departs and I really do settle down and enjoy what I love about the music that I play—hoping that people will catch something of what I’m feeling about that music and my devotion to it.

MB: How did you, a former student at the Curtis Institute, come to be the head of the organ department at Curtis?
JW: One fine day Alexander McCurdy called me up and said, “Mr. Weaver, I’m going to retire from the Curtis Institute, and Rudolph Serkin would like to meet with you and see if you might be an appropriate successor.” (Rudolph Serkin at that point being the director of the Curtis Institute.) Needless to say, I went down to Philadelphia and met with Serkin, and he suggested that I play a recital in Curtis Hall—it was never called an audition recital, but I think they wanted me to clear that hurdle before giving me a green light. Curtis Hall is one of the hardest places to play. It is totally dry acoustically, with a 118-rank Aeolian-Skinner in a room that seats about 200 people—probably more pipes per person than any place else in the world. But it’s an instrument that can, if one works with it, do remarkable things. So I did play the recital and did get the job, and was there very happily for many years. I started in 1971 and retired in 2003—32 years.

MB: How would you characterize yourself as a teacher?
JW: I’ve tried to follow the McCurdy mold. When I was at Curtis we continued the tradition of the organ class—memorization and new pieces each week. I also tried to not impose my own interpretation of any given piece upon the students that I was fortunate enough to teach, both at Curtis and at Juilliard. I do believe that everyone should somehow sound like themselves, that there is some part of themselves and their own musical personality that will affect the way that they perform any piece.
I’ve had students who were extremely flamboyant and almost overdone. I’ve tried to curb that a little bit sometimes, but I certainly don’t want to squelch the enthusiasm and the very strong personal interpretations that a student like that can bring. Sometimes I find a student’s playing to be too conservative, just dull note pushing, and then we talk a lot about the music and about its nature—its liveliness or passiveness or serenity or agitation—trying to have the student project something in the music other than just the notes on the page.

MB: Who were some of your outstanding recent students?
JW: Well, without naming any priority, certainly Paul Jacobs, who succeeded me at Juilliard; Alan Morrison, who succeeded me at the Curtis Institute; Diane Meredith Belcher, who’s on the faculty at Westminster Choir College; Ken Cowan, who is on the faculty of Westminster Choir College and is now the head of the organ department there—and a whole host of others. Those are four that are under management, nationally known, and do a great deal of playing—I’m very proud of them indeed.

MB: How did you come to be at Madison Avenue Presbyterian? What are the different demands, delights, and challenges of being a church musician as opposed to being a fancy-free artist in the world of recitals?
JW: For eleven years, I was at Holy Trinity Lutheran Church in New York. While there, my wife and I started the Bach cantata series that continues to this day, and we really made that church known for performances of the music of Bach. In 1970, I knew that the position at Madison Avenue Presbyterian Church was vacant. It never occurred to me to apply for it. But one day, a gentleman came into the church office unannounced, no appointment, and asked to see me. When we met he said, “We,” meaning the search committee at Madison Avenue, “were hoping that you would apply.”
Well, having the door opened by him at that point, I decided to follow through with it, and I did so with a great deal of doubt because I had grown up in a Presbyterian church, where the din of the congregational chatter before the service completely drowned out anything that could possibly be done on the organ. And I had the impression that Presbyterians generally did not place a very high value on the quality of the worship, the sermon being the centerpiece of the whole Sunday morning experience. But I met with the committee at Madison Avenue and particularly with their pastor David H.C. Reed, in whom I found a Presbyterian with wonderfully high regard for worship and high expectations for the quality of worship. My fears were allayed. I did go to Madison Avenue in the fall of 1970, and immediately we began changing the nature of the worship service there. The congregation began to sing a great deal more—four hymns every Sunday, plus they began to sing the Kyrie, Sanctus, and Agnus Dei.
That progressed until the congregation tended to draw people who liked to sing, and so the congregational singing was strong and is to this day. David Reed was followed by Dr. Fred Anderson, who was a musician—his first degree was as a music major—and a great lover of music and of worship. Now one could go to Madison Avenue Presbyterian Church and the worship experience would be very ecumenical. You would not be certain if you were in a Lutheran or a Roman Catholic or an Episcopal church. It’s very much Presbyterian, but at the same time very ecumenical and very rich liturgically.
MB: Have you considered yourself an organist who composes or have you always thought of yourself as a composer who had to make his way as an organist and a teacher?
JW: Very definitely the former: I’m an organist first and foremost, but I’m an organist who loves to compose. Many composers who try to write for the organ don’t understand the instrument and therefore write pieces that get a premiere performance and are never heard again. In fact, the organ literature that does become mainstream is almost always written by people who play the instrument. One great exception is Paul Hindemith, but he of course was able to write for any instrument, and he always did his research and knew what he was doing—he wrote three wonderful organ sonatas and a concerto.
Years ago, when I was in my early teens, I started going to Vermont in the summer to a music camp for theory. No lessons were taught on piano or clarinet or violin or anything like that. There was no applied music—it was all theory. We had counterpoint classes, form and analysis, and harmony and such, and the result of it was that the students of the camp composed because we had been given the tools of the musical language.
So I’ve gone to Vermont every summer of my life to compose, and now that I live here I hope to do a lot more composing. I’ve also composed primarily things that I myself could use. Although everything I’ve composed for the last 15 years has been on commission, I’ve always written something that I could use in my own work, either in recitals or in church services. I’ve written a lot of choral music and a lot of organ solo pieces and also several pieces for organ and flute because my wife is a very good flutist and we like to be able to play those pieces together.

MB: Do you have any favorites among the pieces that you’ve written? JW: My favorites tend to be the ones that have been performed a great deal. The Passacaglia on a Theme of Dunstable—it may not in fact be by Dunstable, but it was thought to be by him, namely the tune Deo gratias—was composed for the 25th anniversary of the state trumpets at the Cathedral of St. John the Divine, and I played the premiere performance there. It’s a set of variations in passacaglia form, and one variation is designated for that magnificent state trumpet at the west end of that huge cathedral. Nevertheless, the piece works on instruments that don’t have that particular kind of stop available. The piece has been recorded by a number of people and has been played all over the world—that gives me a lot of satisfaction. It’s also one of my favorite pieces.

MB: How many compositions have you’ve written up to this point?
JW: I’ve probably composed about 20 choral pieces, that is, anthem-length pieces. I’ve also composed all four gospel settings of the Passion story, and probably a dozen solo organ pieces.

MB: And other than the commission that you just received on Friday, the future is an open book at this point?
JW: Yes, actually that’s the only commission I have in hand right now, but I am trusting that others will come in. And if they don’t I’ll write anyhow.

MB: Someone wanting to commission you would do what? Do you have a website?
JW: .

MB: Do you enjoy the process of recording? You’ve made some notable recordings. It ends up sounding as though you’re having a good time, even if you might not be.
JW: No, I hate recording. [laughter] There’s something a little bit antiseptic about it. First of all, one does not get that sense of response from a live audience. You simply do the playing, and then there are people sitting around with scores and dials and they’re wanting to do this over again and that over again—or a siren will go off or there’ll be a clap of thunder; things like that can make it very frustrating. When they listen to a recording, people have no idea about how long it takes to make that, because street noises or other interruptions can destroy what otherwise would have been a perfect take. It’s very hard.

MB: You’ve been performing in Portland on the Kotzschmar organ—well, you must have been a boy in knee pants when you started.
JW: It was in 1956—at the end of my first year as a student at the Curtis Institute of Music—when I first played the instrument that had been given to the city of Portland by Cyrus H. K. Curtis, whose daughter was the founder of the Curtis Institute. So there was a wonderful connection there. And I’ve been back every year since. [Editor’s note: Dr. Weaver played his 50th recital on the Kotzschmar in August 2005.]

MB: The organ is a challenge as a musical instrument—it is this device with so many opportunities for color and dynamics, and yet is an incredibly complex machine, which even at its best seems to be intractable. Is this something that organists don’t think about, they just do? Or is making music on the organ as difficult as it might appear to a layman, seeing all of those controls to be manipulated and the separation between the console and the pipework and all of that?
JW: Michael, I believe every instrument has its challenges. For pianists, the way in which the key is struck is so critical, and a pianist’s hands must cover a large key compass, whereas organs have a shorter keyboard, 61 notes as opposed to 88; and organ music tends to stay in the middle register, so, in a way, that’s much easier. Violinists have tiny strings and a fingerboard, and it amazes me that they can play a C major scale. Violin virtuosos are just astonishing. The challenges of the organ are mastering the pedals, mastering console technique that enables you to draw upon the resources of the instrument—and then also to a very great extent, the imagination that you can bring to bear with so many different colors available. Each person will choose sounds to produce the right color, if I might use that word, for the passage that they’re playing in a way that pianists and violinists couldn’t possibly do.

MB: In the 21st century young organists face not only sustaining the presence of their instrument but actually rebuilding an audience for organ music. I see this as a real challenge.
JW: Yes, it is. Every now and then though, one sees very hopeful signs—one of those being the recent installation within the last five to ten years of a great many organs in the concert halls of this country—something that’s fairly standard in Europe; for instance, the renovation of the wonderful Ernest Skinner organ in Severance Hall in Cleveland, a new organ in Orchestra Hall in Chicago, the restoration of the organ in Boston Symphony Hall, the new Disney Hall instrument in Los Angeles. One could go on and on and name any number of places where new instruments have been installed or old instruments have been restored—to me this suggests that the organ will take, again, its place as a concert instrument and not just a liturgical instrument.
On the other hand, it must be said that concert halls are often not the most perfect, acoustically, for organs. Great organ music was written to sound its best in places with fairly substantial reverberation, such as a large stone church. So concert hall organs are wonderful, and I’m glad they’re being built, and they enable us to do organ concerti and sometimes organ solo recitals. But the church, particularly one that has a long reverberation period, is still where the organ seems most at home.

MB: How would you compare the scene for organs and organists in your day? Was this a peak of energy with that marvelous—some would say divisive, some would say energy producing—polarity between the historicists and E. Power Biggs on one side, and the theatricalists and Virgil Fox on the other? We don’t have quite that type of energy today. I daresay the man in the street, if asked to name a concert organist today, might be hard pressed, whereas back in the ’60s and early ’70s, the names of Biggs and Fox were very much in the public ear.
JW: Biggs and Fox, both of them very talented, extraordinary musicians, had a great advantage of working right at the time that the LP recording was becoming common in the American home. RCA Victor and Columbia were the big producers of LP recordings at the beginning of that time in the early ’50s. And there was Biggs and there was Fox, and these two polarities were represented in the recording industry—that did a great deal for the visibility of the organ and the popularity of organ music.

MB: It could be argued that now is both the best of times and the worst of times—there are far more organ recordings available, representing a much larger panoply of artistry and instruments both new built and historic, marvelously represented—and yet there is so much that the focus is lost to some degree.
JW: Yes, I think that’s right. When it was Biggs and Fox, you could expect to find their names in the crossword puzzle. No organist today has that kind of visibility. Another name that was right up there at the top was Marcel Dupré because of his extraordinary playing and also the fact that he had been the teacher of so many organists in the U.S. through the Fulbright program. There isn’t anyone who has really achieved that kind of star status in the organ world, which is not to say that there aren’t a great many wonderfully talented and brilliant performers. Maybe there are just too many.

MB: Yes, it could be argued that the performance quality of the 21st century is higher than it’s ever been. Do you think that it’s possible with so much talent around for someone to distinguish themselves or do they have to almost jump beyond mere artistry and do something odd in order to be discovered? JW: Perhaps it would be best to think in terms of naming names. The name of Cameron Carpenter who studied with me at Juilliard comes to mind. Cameron is extraordinarily flamboyant, both in dress and personality and in playing. His playing annoys the purists terribly, but certain people are simply mesmerized by his performances. And he is a genius—there’s no question about that. Another name that gets a great deal of visibility these days is the young German organist, Felix Hell, whom I also had the honor to teach. Felix, at first, was famous because he was so very young when he was playing recitals all over the world, literally, as he still does. But now he is taking his place among the more mature artists of the younger generation and plays very well indeed—and has made numerous recordings. So these two are a little bit like Biggs and Fox—Felix tends to be a fairly conservative player, not extremely so but more middle of the road, whereas Cameron is way out there in show biz land.

MB: Presuming it’s something different from that marvelous, resonate low “E” that had you mesmerized as a child, when you play and hear the organ, what sort of thoughts go through your mind? What is it about the instrument that still captures your heart and soul?
JW: Who could not be seduced by the instrument itself? Just the mechanics of it and this great collection of pipes, some of them enormous, much larger than most people realize, and most of them very much smaller. I think when a layman sees the inside of a pipe organ for the first time, they’re always astonished—even if it’s a small instrument, it looks amazingly big and complex. And the large ones, of course, are simply mind-boggling. So there’s something about the instrument: its bigness, its history. When I’m playing an organ, if I’m playing Bach I’m thinking about instruments I’ve played that Bach may have played—there’s this great history and great repertoire, and frankly the sound of the instrument has always seduced me.

MB: How would you characterize your playing style?
JW: Probably other people should do that. I would say that I am in the middle someplace. I probably am a little bit on the extrovert side of dead center, but I also am not one to completely disregard the knowledge that musicologists have brought to us of performance practice, of historic instruments—but sometimes I will just say “this piece that I’m playing on this particular instrument cannot be played in a good, authentic, 18th-century style.” Something must be done to make the music and the organ come together in a way that is satisfying and gratifying. And sometimes that means just throwing the rulebook out the window.

MB: Did you set out with goals? You probably didn’t begin your study imagining you would go to Curtis, and then after having studied at Curtis, you probably hadn’t thought that you might end up teaching there, or at Juilliard for that matter. You’re like a natural surfer who has swum out into the sea and found a fantastic wave and you’ve been able to ride that wave through your career with skill, with accomplishment, certainly with a sense of pride. How do you look back at your career from this point?
JW: I would have to say that as with many careers, a great deal of it has to do with being at the right place at the right time, but also having ability to do the job that is required. I’ve often thought that if I had been five years younger, the Curtis Institute would not have thought me an appropriate age to head that organ department. If I had been five years older, it’s likely that they would have chosen someone else from among Alexander McCurdy’s students.

MB: You have moved on from three prestigious positions and you’ve now settled in what used to be your summer home in rural Vermont, up in the marvelous rolling countryside in the northeast corner of the state. Somehow, I can’t think of you as retiring. What projects have you set for yourself for the future?
JW: The mail recently brought a new commission for a new organ piece—that’ll be one of the things. I do want to continue to compose. I’m playing a number of recitals this year including two that I’m extraordinarily excited about, because I will be reunited with the instruments that I had my first lessons on. One of them, the Peabody concert hall Skinner, was put in storage for about 40 years, and then set up at a big Roman Catholic Church in Princeton, New Jersey. A week later I will be playing a recital on the wonderful Skinner organ at Brown Memorial Presbyterian Church in Baltimore, where my teacher Richard Ross was the organist, and before him, Virgil Fox—a beautiful, perfectly untouched Ernest Skinner that really is quite a marvelous instrument. And I’m playing some other recitals and some dedications around the country.

MB: So, you keep your organ shoes polished and ready to go?
JW: Indeed so.
[Editor’s note: Dr. Weaver has announced that the 2007–2008 concert season will be his last for regular concert activity.]

MB: Tell me about some of your memories from being “on the road.”
JW: The wonderful occasions that I love to think back upon are two recitals that I played—one in Grace Cathedral in San Francisco, for a national convention of the American Guild of Organists, in which everything went the way I wanted it to. I loved the instrument, the audience was wonderful, the acoustic was great. And the other one was the Mormon Tabernacle—a recital I played when the Tabernacle was having a three-day symposium to celebrate the restoration of the organ there. Everything was fun, and the instrument was to die for, and of course the acoustics are world famous.

MB: Tell me about your railroad fascination. Where did you grow up? Mauch Chunk?
JW: Yes, Mauch Chunk, Pennsylvania, is a little town north of Allentown and Bethlehem, about 20 miles up into the Pocono Mountains—it’s in a ravine cut by the Lehigh River, and there was a railroad on both sides of the river that ran through the town. The town is now called Jim Thore, but its historic name of Mauch Chunk has great importance. Anyhow, it was a railroad town, and being in this mountain ravine, day or night you could hear the sound of a steam locomotive. The bells and the whistles and the smell of coal smoke were a constant feature of that place. I can remember standing by the railroad track and holding my father’s hand and counting the number of cars on a freight train as it rolled through. It became a part of my life—a very strong hobby, and we are seated right now in the midst of a model railroad that I’m creating that is 26 by 36 feet and has 390 feet of track in it. This is my last model railroad—if I live to 150 I might actually finish it.

MB: And you had one in your office at Madison Avenue Presbyterian.
JW: Yes, unfortunately when I retired from Madison Avenue that meant the end of that railroad, but all of those trains and the structures and the little people and the automobiles and all that are now a part of the railroad here.

MB: I’m sure the compositions that you created for Madison Avenue Presbyterian remain in the files there for the choirs to sing. It’s too bad that your railroad installation in the office wasn’t kept by your replacement.
JW: In the search for my replacement, a fondness for railroads had nothing whatsoever to do with their choice. So.

MB: What of your siblings and in what directions did they go?
JW: My older brother took piano lessons from the same teacher that I had, and he could see that I was making faster progress, so he switched to violin and became in his high school years a reasonably good violinist—he played second chair, first violin in what was at that time a very good high school orchestra. My younger brother is a wonderful tenor, does a lot of solo work in the western Massachusetts area, teaches mathematics at Mount Holyoke College, has an abiding passion for music and even does some composing—he has been published.

MB: And your parents’ musical backgrounds?
JW: Both of my parents played the piano, my father better than my mother. My father had also studied organ for a year or two, and could get through a hymn—knew how to use the pedals a little bit for hymn playing. My mother was an artist, did a master’s at Carnegie Tech and then studied for a year at the Sorbonne—the walls of our houses are covered with paintings that she did over the years.

MB: With your family’s church affiliation and your being a church organist, it’s maybe not surprising that some of the most lovely works that you’ve created have been fantasies on or settings of hymn tunes. You certainly do respond to the church’s song in your compositions.
JW: Well, I love playing hymns. I especially love hymns when a congregation is stirred to sing really well—that’s a wonderful experience. Very often the reason for writing pieces based on hymns has to do with the nature of a commission that I have received. In fact, almost always when I have composed a piece based upon a hymn tune, it’s been requested by the person who commissioned the composition.

MB: Did your parents live to see the honor accorded their son who went on to great things?
JW: My father was very gratified to live to see my appointment to Madison Avenue Presbyterian Church. It was one year later that I was appointed to Curtis. By that time, my mother had died, and my father was not at all well. My father did not particularly encourage my desire to be a professional organist. He, as a minister of a medium-size church, saw that as being at best a part-time job, which would mean having to do something else on the side, and that’s always a difficult life. I think he was very happy to see that I had the security of a full-time church position that was also in a church of great prominence within the denomination.

Michael Barone adds: When I first heard John Weaver play, at Grace Cathedral in San Francisco for the AGO convention in 1984, I was charmed by his physical presence (Mr. Clean in a dinner jacket!), awed by his control of the instrument (and himself), and beguiled by his musicianship. Subsequent convergences have confirmed my first impressions. John is a modest man of major accomplishments, a patrician artist and persuasive virtuoso who has fostered and encouraged the talents and individuality of an inspiring array of youngsters. He is a musician whose own playing leaves a lasting memory, and whose compositions touch the soul. He’s a guy I’ve been both honored and delighted to know. Happy birthday, John!

John Weaver will be the featured guest/topic of a Pipedreams broadcast (#0717) during the week of April 23, 2007, which will remain available 24/7 in an online audio “programs” archive at www.pipedreams.org.

Michael Barone's John Weaver interview

See the interview here.

Other items of interest:

John Weaver honored by Juilliard

John Weaver honored by Union Theological Seminary

Honoring John Weaver's 80th birthday

John Weaver dies at age 83

John Weaver honored by long time representative

Alexander Fiseisky, born in Moscow, is one of the most famous and influential organists in Russia. He graduated with distinction from the Moscow Conservatoire as pianist and organist. He is an organ soloist of the Moscow State Philharmonic Society, head of the organ class at the Russian Gnessins’ Academy of Music in Moscow, and president of the Vladimir Odoyevsky Organ Center. He organized and served as artistic director for organ festivals in Moscow, St. Petersburg, Kiev, and Tallinn, among others. In 1997 he was honored by President Yeltsin with the title ‘Honoured Artist of the Russian Federation’. Fiseisky has given concerts in more than 30 countries. In the Bach Anniversary Year of 2000 he played J. S. Bach’s entire organ works, twice in the context of EXPO 2000 in Hannover, and once in a single day in Düsseldorf as a Bach Marathon. Sought after as a juror in international competitions, he has directed seminars and masterclasses in Europe and the USA. He is the dedicatee of numerous compositions, including works by Mikhail Kollontai, Vladimir Ryabov, Milena Aroutyunova, and Walther Erbacher. A musicologist, he has edited anthologies of organ music of Russia and of the Baltics (Bärenreiter-Verlag). He has many recordings to his credit, including the complete organ works of J. S. Bach.

1. Historical Sketch
Until the 13th century, the indigenous people of the territories of modern Estonia suffered numerous invasions from the West, the South, and the East. Nevertheless, they were able to keep their independence, and the Estonian language emerged in the sixth century. During the 13th and 14th centuries the Estonians were Christianized, in the course of which the southern parts of Estonia were divided in 1224 between the German Schwertbrüderorden (a military-religious order) and the bishops of Dorpat and Ösel. The northern part of the country, together with the city of Reval (Tallinn) founded by German merchants in 1230, was under Danish rule from 1238 to 1346.
The country was ruled by the Teutonic Knights and local bishops, who were supported by the merchants of the towns and the landed gentry. This ruling class was almost entirely ethnic German, and the native Estonian farmers fell by degrees into bondage. The church, showing no interest in the Estonian language, had only limited influence on the local people until the Reformation, when, during the 1520s, the Estonian people began to take a more active part in church life.
As a result of the Livonian war (1558–83), the Order of the Teutonic Knights collapsed. The northern part of Estonia was occupied by Sweden, the southern part brought under Polish–Lithuanian rule, while the island of Saaremaa remained Danish. From 1645, all Estonian territory was under Swedish jurisdiction. After the Swedish defeat in the Great Northern War (1700–21), which was accompanied by a devastating plague, Estonia fell under Russian rule, remaining a part of the Russian Empire until 1917.
Under these circumstances, Estonian culture always developed under the influence of the ruling nations, that of the Germans being particularly strong. The Baltic German aristocracy, the clergy, and the merchants of the Hanseatic League maintained their privileged position in Estonian society, even when the Baltic territories were controlled by Poland, Sweden, or Russia. The church’s administration in Lutheran Estonia from the 16th century until Estonia’s declaration of independence in 1918 was, for instance, always headed by Germans.

2. Organs in Estonia from the 13th to the 16th century
Early Estonian music developed in monasteries and church schools, founded even during the subjugation of the Estonian tribes by foreign invaders. Twelfth-century unison church hymns written in neume notation can be found in liturgy books preserved in the Tallinn City Archives. In 13th-century sources, the main churches of Tallinn are mentioned for the first time: the Cathedral of St. Mary (1219); St. Nicholas’ Church (1230); and St. Olai’s Church (1267). It is evident that organs began to spread in parallel with the growing influence of the church in Estonia. However, the first documented reference to organs in Estonian territories dates only from 1329: in Paistu and Helme (northern Livonia) organs were destroyed by enemy action.1 Some years later (1341), an organist working for a church in Tallinn is mentioned.2
After the great fire, which almost completely destroyed Tallinn on 11 May 1433, a new organ was built in St. Nicholas’ Church (Niguliste) by the organ builder “Orgelmaker” Albrecht; it was later rebuilt in 1489 by Hermann Stüwe from Wismar and six assistants. Most of the organ builders working in Estonia during this period came from the Hanseatic cities of North Germany. Around 1500, the church of St. Nicholas, the largest and wealthiest church in the influential Hanseatic city of Tallinn, boasted a total of three organs3: the first on the west wall; the second in St. Antonius’ chapel; and the third in the chancel, built in 1502 by the local organ builder and Dominican monk Peter Schmidt.4 Tradition hands down the name of one more local “Maker of Organs”: Yllies. His name is mentioned in the report of the treasurer of St. Olai’s Church (Oleviste) in 1540.5
A new organ in St. Nicholas’ Church was built in 1547 by a certain “Meister Hans.” In 1584 this organ was enlarged by the organ builder Bartolt (Bartold) Fiehoff (Viehoff, Fehoff)6 and fitted with a Rückpositiv.7 Between 1588 and 1590 the same builder built an organ of 38 stops for St. Olai’s Church.
During the 15th and 16th centuries, positive organs became fashionable among the wealthier nobility, citizens, and town officials. For instance, in 1499 the “Domherr” and “Stadtschreiber” (Town Clerk) Magister Christianus Czernekow bequeathed his positive organ to the organist Matthias: “ . . . Item domino Mathie, organiste in summo, positivum stantem in camera mea . . .”8 The above-mentioned Bartolt Fiehoff also built a positive organ in 1585–86 for the church of St. Johannis in Tartu (Dorpat).
With the spread of Protestantism, church music in Estonia acquired new significance. Lutheran hymns, accompanied by the organ, became the musical basis of the liturgy. Following the guidelines of Martin Luther and Philipp Melanchthon about education, the Latin school at St. Olai’s Church in Tallinn was reorganized in 1528 as a Lutheran town school (Stadtschule). Its curriculum included basic studies of Protestant music. Choral singing was practiced under the direction of the Kantor—a special teacher who also became responsible for the musical accompaniment of the church services. Gradually the Kantors became the main figures in the cities’ music life. The first Protestant Kantor in Tallinn whose name has come down to us was Petrus Mellin (1531–2).
After the Reformation, the Tallinn churches of St. Nicholas and St. Olai became the focus of cultural life. In the second half of the 16th century, the choir of St. Nicholas’ Church, consisting of about 50 members, performed vocal music from handwritten Kantionalien (liturgical books) by Lukas Lossius, Jacob Meiland, Melchior Vulpius, Hieronymus Praetorius, and others.

3. Culture, religion and musical life in the 17th and 18th centuries
In 1630, the Swedish King Gustavus Adolfus II established a Gymnasium in Tartu for the purpose of strengthening Protestantism. Two years later this Gymnasium was transformed into a university (Academia Gustaviana) and became the most important center of cultural life in Estonia. In Tartu, for the first time in the history of the country, the music of an Estonian folk song was printed (Friedrich Menius, Syntagma de origine livonorum, Dorpat 1635). Another important publication appeared in Tartu in 1640, the Oratio de musica of Jacob Lotichius, who later became the Kantor of the Cathedral School in Riga (Latvia). Concerts and theatrical performances regularly took place in the University of Tartu.
The churches continued to be centers of musical life, the concerts that regularly took place there being contributed by choir, organ, solo singers, and the musicians in the service of the town. It should be noted that organists in Estonia maintained a privileged position compared with town musicians. While the latter received a payment of 20 Taler per year (with three tons of rye and other food in addition), the organists of the Tallinn churches of St. Nicholas and St. Olai in the middle of the 17th century received 100 Taler a year (as well as accommodation and other benefits).9
Much attention was paid to church music; for instance, St. Johannis, the main church in Tartu, employed two organists in the 1680s—one of them, the cantor figuralis, being responsible for the choir, the other, the cantor choralis, for hymn singing.
Use of the Estonian language had also grown. The first attempts at translating Lutheran hymns into Estonian had already been made in the 16th century, while the earliest surviving historical source in the Estonian language is Pastor Henrico Stahl’s anthology of religious hymns, Hand- und Haußbuch Für die Pfarherren und Haußväter Esthnischen Fürstenthumbs (Handbook and Domestic Book for the Clergy and Nobility in Estonia, 1632–38). The first collection of music was published in Estonia (in 1637) by Tallinn’s Gymnasium (founded in 1631 by Gustavus Adolfus II). From the end of the 17th century, lessons at schools were increasingly held in the mother tongue. The New Testament was translated into Estonian in 1686, followed by the entire Bible in 1739.
Country parish churches established the post of sacristan (Küster in German, köster in Estonian), whose duties included instructing young people in reading and writing, prayers, and singing hymns. In 1684 Bengt Gottfried Forselius founded a seminary near Tartu to train young people for such posts, and from the 19th century the köster was also the village schoolmaster and organist.
A tendency towards secular influences is noticeable in the art and religious life of that time. The decorative depiction of saints on organ cases was replaced by allegories from non-religious art. The organ gallery in the chancel of St. Nicholas’ Church in Tallinn, finished in 1639, was decorated with seven wooden sculptures. The “Allegory of Music” was placed in the middle between six other female figures. Together they portrayed the seven fine arts (septem artes liberales).
Important among organ builders working in Estonia at this time were Johannes Pauli (Pawels, Paulus) from Riga, who built and repaired several organs in Tallinn and Kuressaare (Arensburg) between 1611 and 1644, the Swede Andres Bruse (mid-17th century), and above all Christopher Meinecke (Christoff Mencke) from Lübeck, who, working first with Bruse, was active in Tartu until 1645, and from 1660 in Tallinn (St. Nicholas, III/P/3010, 1668).

Tallinn, St. Nicholas’ Church
Christopher Meinecke (Christoff Mencke), 1668 (does not exist)
HAUPTWERK (upper manual)
16' Principal
16' Quinta-Thön
8' Octava
8' Rohrflöte (4'')
4' Super-Octava
2' Rausch-Pfeife
Mixtur IV–V
16' Trommet
8' Trommet
RÜCKPOSITIV (lower manual)
8' Principal
8' Gedackt
4' Octava
4' Gedackt
Tertian II
Scharf III
8' Krumbhorn
8' Dulcian
BRUSTWERK (played from the upper manual)
8' Quinta-Thön
4' Gedackt
2' Octava
Sesquialtera II
8' Regal
PEDAL
16' Untersatz
8' Octava
8' Gedackt
4' Gedackt
16' Posaune
16' Fagotto
8' Trommet
4' Cornet

Tremolo
Koppel

Sources:
Leonid Rojman, Organnaja kul’tura 'stonii [The Organ Culture of Estonia], Moscow: Gosudarstvennoe muzykal’noe izdatel’stvo [State Musical Publishing House] 1960, p. 84.
Hugo Lepnurm, Istorija organa i organnoj muzyki, Kazan’ 1999, p. 74 (translation of the Estonian original “Oreli ja orelimuusika ajaloost,” Tallinn 1971 [“On the History of the Organ and Organ Music”]).
During the Great Northern War (1700–21), almost all organs in the Estonian territories were destroyed. There is a reference to only one organ preserved in a small church in Mänspä on the island of Hiiumaa (Dagö), built by an unknown organ builder at the beginning of the 18th century. After the war and until the end of the century, most of the existing organs were in poor condition because of the country’s extraordinary poverty. Only a few installations or renovations of organs are known; Gottfried Kloos (Clossen, Klossen, Kloss, died 1740), an organ builder from Danzig, installed a Vox humana stop and a Zimbelstern in the main organ of St. Nicholas’ Church in Tallinn (1720–21).
In the 1780s, the organ builder Johann Friedrich Gräbner from Bremen, who later became a citizen of Tallinn, began working in Estonia. He also built harpsichords, clavichords, lutes, harps and fortepianos. In April 1789, he visited St. Petersburg and handed over plans for two organs with 45 and 60 stops to Prince Grigory Alexandrovich Potyomkin (1739–91). Shortly before that, he had finished an organ for the Cathedral of St. Mary in Tallinn and brought a report about his work to St. Petersburg:

We, the undersigned members of the council of the church “de la Noblesse” and the Cathedral, certify by this document that Johann Friedrich Gräbner, an organ builder, designed and built a wonderful and majestic organ [ . . . ], which gained the endorsement of all experts.11
The most famous organ builder in the Baltics in the 18th century was Heinrich Andreas Contius (1708–92). Between 1764 and 1771, he built a new organ in St. Olai, Tallinn (III/P/60)12 (Die Musik in Geschichte und Gegenwart gives the starting date as 176713). Abbé Georg Joseph Vogler played this organ on his way from Stockholm to Moscow in 1787; according to his report he “never encountered a better organ.”14
Contius’s son-in-law, Johann Andreas Stein (1752–1821), born in Karlsruhe, established his own workshop in Pärnu (Pernau) at the end of the century. In 1805, he installed an organ in the church of Kihelkonna on the island Saaremaa. This instrument, with a case in the late rococo style, is the oldest church organ in Estonia still preserved.

The Church of Kihelkonna
Johann Andreas Stein, I/P/14 (Pärnu), 1805
Friedrich Weissenborn, II. Manual (J'kabpils [Jacobstadt], Latvia), 1890
I. MANUAL (C–f³)
16' Bourdon
8' Principal
8' Gedackt
8' Gamba
4' Octave
4' Flöte
2 2/3' Quint
2' Octave
Mixtur II–III
8' Trompete
II. MANUAL (C–f³)
8' Geigenprincipal
8' Hohlflöte
8' Piano
4' Geigenprincipal
PEDAL (C–c¹)
16' Subbass
8' Principalbass
4' Octave
8' Posaune

II/I, I/Ped.
II. Manual in Swell Box

Sources:
Leonid Rojman, Organnaja kul’tura 'stonii [The Organ Culture of Estonia], Moscow: Gosudarstvennoe muzykal’noe izdatel’stvo [State Musical Publishing House] 1960, p. 85.
Andreas Uibo and Jüri Kuuskemaa, Historical Organs in Estonia, Lilienthal/Bremen (Eres Edition 2408) 1994, p. 72.
Among the foremost musicians in 17th-century Estonia was Johann Valentin Meder (1649–1719). Born in Wassungen on the Werra, he worked as a Kantor in the Tallinn Gymnasium (1674–83), and was a prolific composer. The first performance of his Singspiel Die beständige Argenia took place in Tallinn in 1680.
Notable contributions to the development of the art of the organ in Estonia were also made by Erasmus Pogatz (organist at St. Nicholas’ Church in Tallinn 1583–1630), Christopher Asmes (organist at St. Olai’s Church in the first half of the 17th century), and representatives of the Busbetzky musical dynasty. The most important of the latter was Ludwig Busbetzky, a pupil of Dietrich Buxtehude and from 1687 to 1699 organist at the German church in Narva.
Playing the organ became widespread in private homes from the middle of the 17th century. Organists were evidently invited to play at weddings there, for in 1665 a special decree was issued by the Tallinn Magistracy emphasizing that: “ . . . at weddings of housemaids only two musicians and an organist should play, and each of them should receive two Taler for his work.” In 1777, August Wilhelm Hupel, a member of the Independent Economics Society founded in St. Petersburg in 1765, wrote about organists coming from rural families: “ . . . our farmers are not completely without a musical ear: nobles have sent them to study and now they can satisfactorily accompany dances.”15
Musical life became more active in the second half of the 18th century, when it became fashionable to take music lessons and to give concerts in private homes. One instrument that was probably played on such occasions, a positive organ built by Johann Karl Thal from Antsla (I/2, 1795), is now exhibited in the Theatre and Music Museum in Tallinn.
Established by Carl Christian Aghte, the Hündelberger Theater-Kompanie (1776–82) performed the first Singspiels under his direction. In 1784, August von Kotzebue founded the Tallinn Liebhaber-Theater, known from 1809 as the Staendiges (“Permanent”) Theatre, where such works as Mozart’s operas Die Zauberflöte (1795') and Don Giovanni (1797) were performed.

4. Estonia in the 19th century and the beginning of the 20th century
The 19th century brought momentous changes to Estonia. The abolition of serfdom between 1816 and 1819 by Tsar Alexander I (reigned 1801–25) was the decisive step towards liberating the Estonian peasants from the grip of their Baltic German landlords; however, it took several decades before the peasants came into the possession of their farms. In the course of agrarian reform and development of the education system, national self-awareness began to awaken. It was during Alexander II’s reign (1855–81) that the Estonian national movement came into being. Its leaders saw it as their main task to develop Estonia culturally, but step by step the movement became increasingly more political. During the Russian Revolution of 1905, the Estonians demanded cultural and political autonomy, but the Tsarist government refused any concession. It took the collapse of the Russian Empire to create the conditions for the emergence of an independent Estonia, proclaimed on February 24, 1918.
Against this background, concert-giving activity in Estonia steadily expanded. In Tallinn, compositions of the Viennese classical period were performed, among them Mozart’s Requiem (1814) and Haydn’s Creation (1817). In 1819 and 1821, compositions by Peter Andreas Johann Steinsberg using folk melodies and folk dances were performed in the Estonian language for the first time: Häbbi sellel’, kes petta tahhab (“Shame on One Who Wants to Cheat”) and Krappi kaie willetsus, ehk: Kes paljo lobbiseb, peab paljo wastama (“Krappi Kais’ Need, or: Who Chatters Much Has Much to Answer”).
Many famous musicians performed in Estonia, among them Clara Schumann, Franz Liszt, Sigismund Thalberg, and Anton Rubinstein, while the conductor Arthur Nikisch brought the Leipzig Gewandhaus Orchestra to Tallinn in 1899.
Among composers particularly active in Estonia in the first half of the 19th century was Johann Friedrich de La Trobe (1769–1845), who came from Chelsea near London. From 1829 he worked as a music teacher in Tartu; in 1834 he conducted Handel’s Alexander’s Feast in St. Johannis Church there with more than a hundred singers, and in 1835 he founded the Tartu Choral Society, to promote the development of choral music in the town. De La Trobe’s works included mainly sacred vocal compositions, as well as piano and chamber music. His son-in-law Woldemar von Bock (1816–1903) studied law in Tartu before living in Riga (1857–66) and afterwards in Quedlinburg. His collection, Chorale Studies for the Organ, was published in Erfurt in 1855.
The surviving organ works of de La Trobe (the Chorale Preludes, 1805, and the Fughettas, 1798, from the early period of his life)—as well as those of von Bock—are of little artistic value.
The national epic poem Kalevipoeg (“Kalev’s Son”) by Friedrich Reinhold Kreutzwald, written between 1857 and 1861, became a landmark in Estonian literature. Poetry became the most important genre, represented by Lydia Koidula-Jannsen, Ado Reinwald, Mihkel Veske, Marie Under, and Betti Alver.
In 1841, the pianist Theodor Stein (1819–93) and Ferdinand Johann Wiedermann founded the Musical Society, followed by such associations as the Men’s Choral Society of Reval (1849), the Reval Choral Union (1854), the Harmony (1858), and the Jäkelsche Choral Union (1859). The art of choral performance developed rapidly, reaching its zenith in 1869, when the First Song Festival (Üldlaulupidu) took place in Tartu, involving 1,000 singers and an audience of 15,000. It was initiated by the journalist Johann Voldemar Jannsen (1819–90). Here for the first time choral works by Aleksander Saebelmann-Kunileid (1845–75) were performed, settings of patriotic poems by Lydia Koidula-Jannsen (1843–86): Mu isamaa on minu arm (“My Native Land, My Dearest Love”) and Sind surmani (“I’ll Cherish You till Death”).
In 1827, Eduard Philipp Körber published his Little Estonian Hymnal in the Tartu Dialect (Das kleine ehstnische Choralbuch in Dörptscher ehstnischer Sprache). Soon afterwards, Johann Leberecht Ehregott Punschel (1778–1849) presented the Evangelical Chorale Book Appropriate to German, Latvian and Estonian Hymnbooks in the Russian Baltic Provinces (Evangelische Choralbuch zunächst in Bezug auf die deutschen, lettischen und estnischen Gesangbücher der russischen Ostsee-Provinzen) (Leipzig, 1839). This book included 363 chorales. Its second, extended edition was issued in 1844.
These collections of hymns were complemented by tutorial books in the Estonian language for those who wanted to learn to play the klavier. One of the first books of this kind was the unfinished work by Johann Heinrich Rosenplänter (1782–1846), How One Can Learn to Play the Piano [and the Organ] (Õppetus kuida klawwerit [ja orelit] mängida) (manuscript, 1830).16 A little later, the Saxon Johann August Hagen (1786–1877), who from 1815 was the organist at St. Olai’s Church in Tallinn,17 published his instructive book Instruction on How Singing People, and Whoever Else Wishes, Can Learn to Bring Forth Songs from the Written Notes, in Order to Play Them on the House Organ and to Sing Themselves, As Well As Together with Their Pupils (Õppetus, kuida laulomehhed, ja kes muud tahtwad, joudwad notidest laulo wisid ülleswõtta, lauloerrelatte peäl mängides ja nende järrel lauldes, ni hästi nemmad isse, kui ka nende õppetus lapsed) (Tallinn, 1841). In 1861, a new work by Hagen was published: A Guide to Organ Playing for Those Who Wish to Attain the Position of Country Organist and to Prepare Themselves for It (Juhhataja errela mängimisseks neile, kes maal errela mängimisse ammetid noudwad ja ennast selle wasto tahtwad walmistada); and finally, the textbook of Andreas Erlemann, Instruction in Music (Musika õppetus), was published in 1864, placing special emphasis on the organ.
In addition to these theoretical works by Hagen and Erlemann, the large number of chamber organs built by self-taught enthusiasts had a significant influence on the musical education of the people. As a rule, most of these instruments had only wooden pipes. At the end of the 19th century, hardly any sizable family in Estonia did not possess a chamber organ. Schools contributed much to the spreading of music, as they also possessed organs. Thus the organ in Estonia really became the folk instrument.
Organs of a larger scale were built by Carl Tanton, as well as by the Germans Ernst Kessler and Wilhelm Müllverstedt, who had settled in Tartu. Some of their church organs are still preserved in Kullamaa (C. Tanton, I/P/12, 1854), Otepää (E. Kessler, I/P/12, 1853), Vigala (W. Müllverstedt, II/P/14, 1886), and other Estonian towns.
The Church of Vigala
Wilhelm Müllverstedt, II/P/14. Originally the organ was built for the church of St. Peter in Tartu (1886); was moved to Vigala in 1888.
I. MANUAL (C–f³)
16' Bordun
8' Principal
8' Gedackt
8' Gambe
4' Principal
4' Flöte
4' Spitzflöte
2 2/3' Quinte
2' Octav
Mixtur IV
II. MANUAL (C–f³)
Phisharmonika
PEDAL (C–d¹)
16' Subbass
8' Principal
8' Bassflöte

Calcant
Sperrventil Pedal
Pedal Coupler

Source:
Andreas Uibo and Jüri Kuuskemaa, Historical Organs in Estonia, Lilienthal/Bremen (Eres Edition 2408) 1994, p. 78.

Müllverstedt had often been in St. Petersburg and Moscow, where he repaired and tuned, in particular, the house organ “Sebastianon”18 of the Prince Vladimir Odoyevsky, and the old organ (1889) in the Small Hall of the Moscow Conservatoire. As Professor Alexander Fyodorovich Goedicke (1877–1957) remembered, in the 1890s the Tartu master regularly visited towns in central Russia to tune and repair organs. There were about 60 organs in Russia in the care of Müllverstedt.19
Gustav Normann (1825–93), a very productive organ builder, was the founder of the “organ building school” in Northern Estonia. He built one of his more significant works for St. Johannis’ Church in Tallinn (III/P/40, 1869).20 Others of his surviving instruments include those in Harju-Madise (I/P/7, 1859) and Simuna (II/P/20, 1886).
Normann’s successors were the father and son Gustav and August Terkmann. Gustav (1855–1911) founded his own organ workshop in Tallinn in 1882 and produced mainly small organs with tracker action for village churches. One of his instruments (II/P/13, 1902) can be seen in Järva-Madise.
His son, organ builder August Terkmann (1885–1940), who had been a trainee of Laukhuff, used pneumatic and electropneumatic action in his instruments. Active in the Estonian countryside, as well as in St. Petersburg, Astrakhan and Simbirsk, he also built some larger organs in Tallinn, in particular for the Estonia concert hall (III/P/56 + 3 borrowed stops, 1913)21 and in St. Johannis’ Church, (III/P/36 + 23 borrowed stops, 1914).22

Tallinn, The Estonia Concert Hall
August Terkmann, III/P/56 + 3 borrowed stops, 1913 (does not exist)
I. MANUAL
16' Principal
8' Principal
8' Seraphon-gambe
8' Hohlflöte
8' Rohrflöte
8' Gemshorn
4' Octave
4' Rohrflöte
2' Octave
2 2/3' Quinte
Mixtur III
8' Trompete
II. MANUAL
16' Bourdun-doux
16' Quintatön
8' Principal
8' Bourdun
8' Quintatön
8' Traversflöte
8' Gamba*
8' Salicional
8' Unda maris
4' Principal
4' Traversflöte
4' Salicional
2' Waldflöte
Cornett III–IV
8' Clarinette
8' Basson
III. MANUAL
16' Lieblichgedackt*
8' Geigenprincipal
8' Gedackt
8' Flauto amabile
8' Gamba
8' Viola d’amour
8' Aeoline
8' Vox celestis
4' Fugare
4' Flauto dolce
2' Flautino
Harmonia aetheria III
Cornett IV
16' Fagott*
8' Trompete
8' Oboe
8' Vox humana
4' Clairon
PEDAL
32' Untersatz
16' Principalbaß
16' Violonbaß
16' Subbaß
16' Gedecktbaß (* Manual III)
8' Octavbaß
8' Cello (* II)
8' Flöte
8' Dolce
4' Flöte
(102'3' Quinte)**
16' Posaune
16' Fagott (* Manual III)

* Borrowed stops
** Thus in the source

Source:
Leonid Rojzman, Organnaja kul’tura 'stonii [The Organ Culture of Estonia], Moscow: Gosudarstvennoe muzykal’noe izdatel’stvo [State Musical Publishing House] 1960, pp. 85–86.

The large German companies were very productive in Estonia, above all
E. F. Walcker & Co. and Wilhelm Sauer. Walcker built two large organs in Tallinn: St. Olai (III/P/65, 1842) and St. Nicholas (III/P/43, 1895). Of the most important Sauer instruments to have been preserved, that in St. Mary’s Cathedral, Tallinn, is noteworthy (III/P/71 + 2 borrowed stops, 1914).

Tallinn, Cathedral of St. Mary
Wilhelm Sauer, III/P/71 + 2 borrowed stops (Frankfurt/Oder, Germany), Opus 1171, 1914
I. MANUAL (C–a³)
16' Principal
16' Bordun
8' Principal
8' Gamba
8' Doppelflöte
8' Flauto amabile
8' Quintatön
8' Gemshorn
8' Gedackt
8' Dolce
51'3' Nasard
4' Rohrflöte
4' Gemshorn
4' Octave
2' Waldflöte
Mixtur III
Cornett III
8' Trompete
II. MANUAL (C–a³)
16' Gedackt
16' Salicional
8' Dulciana
8' Rohrflöte
8' Salicional
8' Koncertflöte
8' Viola
8' Flauto traverso
8' Principal
4' Dolce
4' Flauto amabile
4' Principal
2 2/3' Nasard
2' Piccolo
Progress II–III
Cymbel III–IV
8' Klarinette
III. MANUAL (C–a³)
16' Gedackt*
16' Gamba
8' Voix celeste
8' Aeoline
8' Gemshorn
8' Gedackt
8' Viola d’amour
8' Quintatön
8' Flauto amabile*
8' Portunalflöte
8' Schalmei
8' Geigenprincipal
4' Flauto dolce
4' Salicet
4' Fugara
2' Flautino
Harmonia aetheria III
8' Aeolodian
8' Oboe
8' Trompete
PEDAL (C–f¹)
32' Untersatz
16' Lieblich Gedackt (* Manual III)
16' Gemshorn
16' Subbass
16' Quintatön
16' Violon
16' Principal
102'3' Quinte
8' Dulciana (* Manual III)
8' Gemshorn
8' Bassflöte
8' Cello
8' Principal
4' Flauto
4' Principal
16' Posaune
8' Trompete
4' Clairon

* Borrowed stops

III/II, III/I, II/I
III/Ped., II/Ped., I/Ped.

Sub-octave Coupler II/I
Super-octave Coupler II/I
General Coupler

Prepared Combinations: Piano, Mezzoforte, Forte
3 Free Combinations
Crescendo Roller
Swell Pedal for Manual III and Lieblich Gedackt 16', Dulciana 8' (Ped.)

Piano Pedal
Mezzoforte Pedal
Forte Pedal

Stops Off
Reeds Off
Pedal Couplers Off
Crescendo Off

Pneumatic Action

Restoration: Orgelwerkstatt Christian Scheffler (Frankfurt/Oder, Germany), 1998

This organ incorporates many elements of an earlier instrument by Friedrich Ladegast (III/P/51, 1878). Ladegast built also a number of organs in provincial towns, of which the instrument in the Town Church of St. Johannis (II/P/21, 1867) in Valga (Walk) should be first of all mentioned.

Valga, Town Church of St. Johannis
Friedrich Ladegast, II/P/21, 1867

I. MANUAL (C–f³)
16' Bordun
8' Principal
8' Doppelflöte
8' Flauto traverso
8' Viola d’amour
4' Rohrflöte
4' Salicional
2' Octave
Cornett III
Mixtur IV

II. MANUAL (C–f³)
8' Lieblich Gedackt
8' Gamba
8' Bassflöte
4' Principal
4' Flauto amabile
2 2/3' Quinte
2' Waldflöte
PEDAL (C–d¹)
16' Subbass
16' Violon
8' Cello
16' Posaune

II/I, I/Ped., II/Ped.

Source:
Andreas Uibo and Jüri Kuuskemaa, Historical Organs in Estonia, Lilienthal/Bremen (Eres Edition 2408) 1994, p. 78.

Other German organ builders who also worked in Estonia include E. Ch. Lemke (Narva, 1837); Guido Knauff from Coburg (Viljandi [Fellin], St. Paul’s Church, II/P/31, 1866); and the brothers Schwalbenberg.
Of great interest is the activity of another Estonian organ building dynasty, that of the three brothers Tannil, Juhan, and Jakob Kriisa. From Haanja in southeast Estonia, they continued an old popular tradition by building first smaller organs. Slowly their business expanded, their sons joined the firm, and at the beginning of the 20th century their instruments were to be found all over Estonia; one of their biggest was installed in the church in Võru (1910).
The importance of the organ in Estonian music is underlined by the fact that almost all significant Estonian composers were organists. This is particularly true in the older generation such as Johannes Kappel (1855–1907), Konstantin Türnpu (1865–1927), and Miina Härma (1864–1941), all of whom were graduates of the St. Petersburg Conservatoire, where their organ professor was Louis (Ludwig) Homilius (1845–1908).
Having finished his conservatoire studies in 1881, Kappel became the organist at the Dutch church in St. Petersburg. In later life he remained connected with that city, conducted Estonian choirs, and regularly took part in song festivals in Tallinn and Tartu.
Türnpu finished his studies in 1891 and became organist at St. Nicholas’ Church in Tallinn. As a choir trainer, he was unequalled in Estonia at that time. His choir performed major works of the central classical repertoire, such as J. S. Bach’s B-minor Mass, Beethoven’s Missa Solemnis, and others.
Härma (who graduated in 1890) became an active recitalist not only in Estonia and Russia, but also beyond their borders. The inclusion of works by Bach, Mendelssohn, and Reger in her programs introduced these organ classics to the Estonian public.
Kappel, Türnpu and Härma composed neither symphonic nor organ music. Their works consist mainly of choral music and solo songs. The first Estonian symphonic music was written around 1900 by the succeeding generation.
Rudolf Tobias (1873–1918) composed in 1896 the tragic overture Julius Caesar, and Artur Kapp (1878–1952) a dramatic overture, Don Carlos, in 1899. Both musicians were graduates of the St. Petersburg Conservatoire, the artistic traditions of which, represented in the music of Rimsky-Korsakov, Lyadov, and Glazunov, deeply influenced Estonian music.
Tobias, the founder of classical Estonian music, was born into a sacristan’s family in the village of Käina in 1873. He received his first music instruction from his father. From 1893 to 1897, he studied organ with Homilius and composition with Rimsky-Korsakov at the St. Petersburg Conservatoire. For a diploma, he submitted the cantata Johannes Damascenus for mixed choir, male voice choir, soloists, organ, and symphony orchestra. Having finished his studies, he became the choirmaster and organist at the Estonian church of St. Johannis in St. Petersburg. He was held in high regard as a performer and improviser.
In autumn 1904, he settled in Tartu and there conducted symphony and choral concerts, gave music lessons, and wrote articles on music, thus inspiring Estonian musicology. In 1908, he moved to Leipzig, and then from 1910 lived in Berlin, where he published articles as a music critic in (for example) the Deutsche Allgemein Musikzeitung. From 1912 onwards, he taught music theory at the Royal Music Academy (Königliche Akademische Hochschule für Musik). He died in 1918 in Berlin.
Besides the overture Julius Caesar and the cantata Johannes Damascenus, his output includes a concerto for piano and orchestra, string quartets, chamber music, and vocal compositions. For organ, Tobias wrote more than thirty preludes and choral arrangements, Fugue in D minor, Largo, Prelude and Fughetta in C minor, as well as a Concerto for Organ and Orchestra in F minor. He made use of the organ in almost all of his large choral works—in the oratorios On the Other Side of the Jordan, Jonah’s Mission, the cantata Johannes Damascenus, and others.
Artur Kapp, a classical master of Estonian music, was born in Suure-Jaani in 1878. He received his first instruction in music from his father, a village sacristan. After graduating in 1898 from the St. Petersburg Conservatoire, studying organ with Homilius, he continued his studies there in the composition class of Rimsky-Korsakov (diploma in 1900), and then for a few years he worked as the second organist (as assistant to Homilius) at the Lutheran church of St. Peter in St. Petersburg.
From 1904 to 1920, he was director of the music college and head of the local department of the Russian Musical Society in Astrakhan. In 1920, he became the musical director of the Estonia theatre and a teacher at the Tallinn Conservatoire (from 1925 professor of composition). Among his pupils were Edgar Arro, Gustav Ernesaks, Eugen Kapp, Riho Päts, Villem Reiman, and others. He died in 1952 in Suure-Jaani.
His output includes symphonic works and oratorios, concertos and compositions for different instruments, as well as chamber and vocal music. His organ works are of great importance; the first was the Sonata in F minor, which Kapp wrote while studying at the St. Petersburg Conservatoire (1897). This was followed by Variations on a Chorale Theme (1902), two concertos for organ and orchestra (1934 and 1946), a trio for violin, cello, and organ (1936), the Sonata in D major (1948), choral fantasias, and other compositions.
In Kapp’s truly independent works, various stylistic influences are obvious. His style attempts to combine the tradition of the classical Viennese school, polyphony and a Romantic internationalism.
Homilius’s predecessor as head of the organ department of the St. Petersburg conservatoire, Heinrich Stiehl (1829–86), had lived in Tallinn since 1880, being the organist of St. Olai. Besides the above-mentioned musicians, Louis Homilius was also the teacher of such renowned composers of Estonian music as August Topman (1882–1968), Mart Saar (1882–1963), and Mihkel Lüdig.
Mihkel Lüdig was born in Reiu in 1880. He received his first instruction in music from Max Peters, the organist at Pärnu. In 1897, he began his studies at the Moscow Conservatoire, but in the next year moved to St. Petersburg, where he graduated from the conservatoire organ class (of Homilius) in 1904. His other teachers there were Rimsky-Korsakov, Glazunov and Solovyov (composition), and Czerny (piano). After graduating the conservatoire, Lüdig worked in St. Petersburg as an organist and choirmaster. From 1912 to 1914, he was solo organist in Count Sheremetyev’s symphony orchestra. Lüdig’s organ recitals were always well received by both experts and press. Honored by the composer’s request to give the first performance of Alexander Glazunov’s first organ work, the Prelude and Fugue in D major, op. 93 (1906), he did so in the Small Hall of the St. Petersburg Conservatoire on January 29, 1907. In 1917, Lüdig moved to Tallinn, where in 1919 he established the Higher Music School, of which he became the director (1919–23). At the same time, he was the organist of the Charles’ Church in Tallinn (until 1924). He spent three years in Argentina and returned to Tallinn in 1928. From 1934 until his death in 1958, he lived in the village of Vändra.
Mihkel Lüdig’s output includes symphonic works and oratorios, as well as chamber and vocal music; his choral compositions are of great importance. Apart from Three Fugues for Organ (1946), Lüdig composed another work with organ (or piano) accompaniment: the romance In Remembrance of Mother.
Among the pupils of Louis Homilius, the talented Peeter Süda should also be mentioned. Born on the island of Saaremaa (Ösel) in Lümanda district in 1883, Süda studied organ at the St. Petersburg Conservatoire from 1902 to 1911 (first with Homilius, and, after the latter’s death in 1908, with Jacques Handschin). In 1912, he passed the final examination in composition, his teachers being Anatoly Lyadov, Nikolai Solovyov, and Alexander Glazunov. After completing his education, Süda lived in Tallinn, gave private music lessons, and performed as a solo organist. Even as a student, his organ playing was praised. It is known that Professor J'zeps V'tols, for instance, said of Süda’s playing in the final examination, “What playing! Precise, clear cut, pure, and exciting in its virtuosity. One should play the organ exactly as Süda does.” In 1919, Süda became the teacher in composition and organ at the newly established Tallinn Higher Music School. He died in 1920 in Tallinn.
Süda’s compositional output comprises mainly organ pieces, which are of great importance in the development of Estonian organ music. As a brilliant executant, whose knowledge of the potentialities of the instrument was excellent, Süda used the polyphonic style with great mastery. Süda wrote the following organ works (the autographs are preserved in the Theatre and Music Museum in Tallinn): Fugue in F minor (1910), Basso Ostinato (1913–14), Ave Maria (1914), Prelude (1914) and Fugue (1920) in G minor, Scherzino (1916/1918), Gigue à la Bach (1919), and Pastorale (1920).
By the turn of the century, the first music schools in Estonia had been established: in Tartu (1897) and Tallinn (1898). In 1900, the Estonian Symphony Orchestra first appeared under the direction of the composer Aleksander Läte (1860–1948). Soon afterwards the first professional theatres were opened in Estonia’s larger towns: Vanemuine (Tartu, 1906), Estonia (Tallinn, 1906), Endla (Pärnu, 1911), and the Tallinn Dramatic Theatre (1916). In 1905, Artur Lemba (1885–1963) composed the first opera in the Estonian language, Sabina (St. Petersburg, 1906), the second version of which bore the title Lembitu tütar [“Lembitu’s Daughter”] (Vanemuine theatre, Tartu, 1908).
The choral tradition developed with great momentum. There were seven song festivals from 1869 to 1910, with more than 10,000 singers taking part in the last of these, while the composer Juhan Simm (1885–1959), who played a significant role in the organization of subsequent song festivals, founded in 1911 the Tartu university choir.
At the beginning of the 20th century, the literary movement Young Estonia (Noor Eesti) was inaugurated and presided over by the poet Gustav Suits. The motto of the movement “Let us remain Estonians, but let us also become Europeans!” became the inspiration of cultural Estonia.

5. Estonia in the period of its first independence (1918–1940)
The period between the First and Second World Wars witnessed many brilliant events in Estonian artistic life. The greatest literary achievement was the five-part epic novel Truth and Justice (Tõde ja õigus) by Anton H. Tammsaare (written 1926–33), depicting Estonian life between the 1870s and 1920s.
The Tallinn Song Festivals attracted constantly rising numbers of participants (with 17,500 singers in the 11th Song Festival of 1938). From the 1920s, operas were regularly performed in the Theatre Estonia. The concert repertoire in the 1921–22 season included such works as Berlioz’s Symphonie Fantastique and Till Eulenspiegel by Richard Strauss. In 1936, Stravinsky’s Symphony of Psalms was performed under the direction of Eduard Tubin (1905–82) in Tallinn, and in the following year the composer himself came to conduct his Firebird Suite and the Capriccio for piano there.
As mentioned above, in 1919 the Higher Music School (from 1923–93 the Conservatoire, and from 1993 the Estonian Academy of Music) was established in Tallinn. In 1919, the Tartu Higher Music School (Tartu Kõrgem Muusikakool) was opened. The Tallinn Conservatoire was directed from 1923–33 by Rector Jaan Tamm, and August Topman was the head of the organ department. Hugo Lepnurm (1914–99), who studied organ there from 1928 to 1933, recalls that Topman laid particular emphasis on preparing his students for their work in Lutheran churches. Since playing services occupied little time and yielded little income, Topman tried to prepare his students for a greater variety of activities, stimulating their interest in choral skills and teaching. Sometimes he joked, “any organist, especially in the provinces, should be able to conduct choirs and the fire brigade band, accompany guest soloists, perform operettas in the House of Culture, be the chairman or at least secretary of the agricultural society, and, if still able, play the organ well.”
In the period between the wars, Peeter Laja (1897–1970), Alfred Karindi (1901–69), Edgar Arro (1911–78), and Hugo Lepnurm were among Topman’s best pupils.
Peeter Laja first became known in 1923, when, at that time a student of the Tallinn Conservatoire, he made his debut in the Estonia Concert Hall, performing as a soloist in G. F. Handel’s Organ Concerto in B-flat (from Op. 4), accompanied by an orchestra under Raimund Kull. Laja’s programs contained compositions of both international and Estonian composers (A. Kapp, R. Tobias, P. Süda, and others).
A distinctive performer, Alfred Karindi was born in Kõnnu. He studied organ (with Johannes Kärt) and composition (with Heino Eller) at the Tartu Higher Music School, where in 1925–28 he taught music theory. From 1927, he was organist of the Tartu university church (here he played the organ that was later moved to the Estonia concert hall) and performed in concerts as organist and conductor. In 1928–32, he was a teacher and a conductor of the mixed students’ choir at the Tartu university. In 1931, he finished his studies as organist and composer at the Tallinn Conservatoire. At the beginning of the 1930s, he moved to Tallinn, where he pursued an active career giving concerts, conducting choral works, including Mozart’s Requiem (1940), and performing as a solo organist. Between 1940–50 and 1955–69, he taught at the conservatoire (from 1946 as a professor). Karindi wrote a symphony, cantatas, piano, chamber, and vocal works. His output includes a number of interesting pieces for organ, of which the central place is held by his four sonatas: No. 1 in E minor (1928), No. 2 in G minor (1932), No. 3 in F minor (1944), and No. 4 in E minor (1963).
Born in Tallinn, Edgar Arro studied the organ at Tallinn Conservatoire with August Topman (1929–35) and composition with Artur Kapp (1934–39). From 1935 to 1940 he worked for the radio. It was one of his tasks to improvise on the organ in the morning hours. Occasionally, he gave solo concerts. From 1944, he was a teacher at the Tallinn Conservatoire (Professor from 1972). Arro wrote symphonic works and oratorios, compositions for choir and different chamber ensembles and—together with Leo Normet—the popular musical comedy Rummu Jüri. Throughout his life as a composer, he had a strong liking for the organ. His first work, Sonata for Organ (1938), was written while studying at the conservatoire. In the early 1940s, it was followed by Maestoso (1943). Of his other organ music, the collection of about 56 concert pieces Eesti rahvaviise orelili (Estonian Folk Tunes for Organ) is of great interest.
A little different was the artistic life of Hugo Lepnurm during the period between the two World Wars. After graduating from the conservatoire, he served as assistant to Professor Topman (1936), but soon he moved to Paris, where he continued his studies with Marcel Dupré (in the winter of 1938–39). In Paris, the young Estonian musician got to know the work of celebrated French organists and he had the chance to listen to Rachmaninov, Cortot, and Menuhin.
During the 1920s two other large organs were built in Tallinn. One of them was the largest organ ever built in Estonia by the company E. F. Walcker & Co. and installed in the Charles’ Church (III/P/81 + 3 borrowed stops, 1923). The other was built by August Terkmann for the Holy Ghost Church (IV/P/71, 1929).23 The Brothers Kriisa were also very active, and among their notable instruments in the 1930s were Paide (II/P/20, 1933), Urvaste (II/P/25 + 1 borrowed stop, 1938), and Suure-Jaani (II/P/25 + 1 borrowed stop, 1937). This last was installed by the Kriisas behind a Johann Andreas Stein case from 1804.

The Church of Suure-Jaani
The Brothers Kriisa, II/P/25 + 1 borrowed stop, 1937

I. MANUAL (C–a³)
8' Principal
8' Viola di Gamba
8' Doppelflöte
8' Gemshorn
8' Salicional
4' Octave
4' Flauto dolce
Cornett III–V
Mixtur III–IV

II. MANUAL (C–a³)
16' Bordun
8' Principal
8' Gedackt
8' Viola d’amour
8' Voix celestes
4' Flauto
2 2/3' Quintflöte
2' Flautino
1 3/5' Terzflöte
Cymbel IV
8' Trompete
Tremolo

PEDAL (C–f¹)
16' Kontrabass
16' Subbass
16' Gedacktbass (Tr. Manual II)
8' Octavbass
8' Violon
16' Posaune

II/I, Super II/I, Super I, Sub II/I
Super II, Sub II
I/Ped., II/Ped., Super II/Ped.

II. Manual in Swell Box

Source
Andreas Uibo and Jüri Kuuskemaa, Historical Organs in Estonia, Lilienthal/Bremen (Eres Edition 2408) 1994, p. 77.
A milestone in Estonian culture was the foundation of the Music Museum in 1934 in Tallinn (from 1941 the Theatre and Music Museum); it became the custodian of archival material and manuscripts of Estonian composers, recordings of folk songs, musical instruments, and other holdings.

6. Estonia from 1940 to the end of the 20th century
With the establishment of the Union of Estonian Composers in 1941, the creative work of native musicians received official support from the government. In the 1940s, some professional choirs were founded on the initiative of the famous choirmaster and composer Gustav Ernesaks (1908–93); their performances on radio and in the concert halls of the Soviet Union were well received. In 1947, the tradition of the Song Festivals was revived after a break of nine years (the 21st Song Festival in 1990 assembled some 30,000 singers and half a million listeners).
In 1947, the theatre and the concert hall Estonia, both of which had been destroyed in the Second World War, were rebuilt. In the years 1948–49, the Tallinn organ builder Gutdorf Brothers transferred the organ of the university church in Tartu, built by Herbert Kolbe (1928), to the concert hall and installed it on the stage. In doing so, the specification was enlarged (III/P/75). This instrument was superseded as early as 1961 with an organ by Rieger–Kloss (IV/P/66). Two others by this company were installed in the Vanemuine theatre in Tartu (III/P/47, 1978) and in St. Nicholas’ Church in Tallinn (IV/P/63, 1981), which had been turned into a museum and concert hall.
In the 1940s, the work of the most important representative of the Tartu school of composers, Heino Eller (1887–1970), reached its climax. Eller wrote three symphonies (1936, 1948, 1961), five string quartets, music for piano, chamber music, and vocal compositions. An estimable pupil of his, Eduard Tubin, wrote ten symphonies, two operas, two ballets, chamber and choral music, and a Pastorale for alto and organ (1956).
The decades following gave rise to a new generation of Estonian composers who were influenced by 20th-century Western European music: Veljo Tormis (*1930), Eino Tamberg (*1930), Jaan Rääts (*1932), Arvo Pärt (*1935) and Kuldar Sink (1942–95). Tamberg’s and Rääts’s compositions show neoclassical tendencies. Pärt and Sink tend towards serial techniques. Tormis, following the tradition of Mart Saar and Cyrillus Kreek (1889–1962), is interested in folklore and prefers choral music.
Eller taught Alo Põldmäe (*1945) and Lepo Sumera (*1950), while Ester Mägi (*1922), Jüri Tamverk (*1954), Erkki-Sven Tüür (*1959) and Urmas Sisask (*1960), a composer of a number of organ works, are among the distinguished pupils of Saar.
Apart from the works presented in the collection Organ Music from the Baltic States, Volume 2: Estonia (Bärenreiter, BA 8422), the following compositions for the organ written by Estonian composers in the 20th century should be mentioned: Kaljo Raid (*1921), Sonata in Classical Style (1948); Peeter Laja, 5 Pieces (1950); Leo Virkhaus (1910–84), Organ Prelude on Psalm 108 (Be Thou Exalted) (1973); Igor Garschnek (*1958), 3 States (1980); and Arvo Pärt, Trivium (1976), Annum per annum (1980) and My Path Has Peaks and Troughs (1989).
In the post-war period, the tradition of centuries of organ-playing in Estonia manifested itself above all in the work of Hugo Lepnurm. After his evacuation, he returned to Tallinn in 1944 and continued teaching organ, solfeggio, and music theory at the conservatoire (from 1945 as a professor). He also gave many concerts in the USSR, was organist at Tallinn’s Cathedral of St. Mary, and made recordings. In 1971, he published his book On the History of the Organ and Organ Music (Oreli ja orelimuusika ajaloost). Lepnurm’s compositions are not numerous, but include a number of interesting pieces, especially for the organ: a toccata (1943/50), two cycles of variations for violin and organ (1942, 1954), and a concerto for organ and orchestra (1956). Among his pupils, the Tallinn organist Rolf Uusväli (*1930), Andreas Uibo (*1956), and Urmas Taniloo (*1953) from Tartu are well known.
An important part in the revival of public interest in early music and its authentic performance was played by Hortus Musicus, a specialist ensemble (artistic director Andres Mustonen), founded in 1972. Since 1987, the International Tallinn Organ Festival has taken place every year in the Estonian capital. The tradition of organ building is continued by Hardo Kriisa (*1940), a representative of the third generation of the famous organ dynasty. His workshop is in Rakvere.'

Notes