Larry Palmer 45th annual faculty recital

Larry Palmer is harpsichord editor of THE DIAPASON.

Each one of us surely has an individual concept of sin, generally from direct personal experience: I sometimes describe it as “anything that is more fun for the doer than for someone else!” Defining commission might be slightly more difficult. For the purpose of this narrative, I choose to define the term as “the solicitation of a new musical composition, whether or not money is involved.” In my nearly half-century of commissioning new music, much of the time I have been the recipient of extraordinary generosity: most of my composers have donated their music, while others have asked for only modest fees.

Calvin Hampton

The first time I solicited a composer to write something specifically for me was in 1957, when I asked my Oberlin classmate and fellow organ major Calvin Hampton if he would provide an offertory for a summer service at First Presbyterian Church, Canton, Ohio--my first major (if only month-long) church “gig.” His response came in the form of a lovely three-minute aria, titled Consonance. While not a major work by this important composer, it does illustrate the advantage of choosing the right friends; namely, ones who go on to become well-known, thereby considerably increasing the value of their manuscripts. Equally useful, subsequently such friendships may provide one with material for articles about “what they were like before they became well-known”--a perfectly good academic topic indeed, if one includes the proper footnotes.

Neely Bruce

In the fall of 1960 I moved to Rochester, New York to begin graduate study. There I met the next of my composer friends. On my second day at the Eastman School, as I waited in the fourth floor corridor to meet with my advisor Dr. M. Alfred Bichsel, head of the newly established Church Music Department, a striking younger student walked up to me and asked, with lilting southern inflection, if I could tell him where to find Dr. Bitch-el. I was captivated by Neely Bruce, a freshman who had come to audition for the Polyphonic Choir, a new choral ensemble established for this sacred music area. As Dr. Bichsel’s rehearsal assistant, I saw young Bruce regularly. We became friends, and Neely, a precociously talented pianist and composer, eventually supplied the concluding piece for my 1961 master’s recital Organ Compositions Based on the Kyrie fons bonitatis.

When he left Eastman after that single year to attend the University of Alabama, I was devastated. I wrote sad poems (a la Edna St. Vincent Millay and Dame Edith Sitwell)--filled with lines such as:

Our night for love designed, speeds silent on and on,

And time, which only breathless seconds since had seemed so kind,

Is gone.

Neely didn’t answer letters or write poetry. He did, however, write music, and some months later I received the penciled score of his first work for harpsichord--Nine Variations on an Original Theme. The piece held such emotional intensity for me that it was not until 1979 that I copied it out while on my first sabbatical leave, prepared it for performance, and then gave the premiere the following year. Whatever one may think now of such a youthful endeavor, the work certainly is well-crafted for harpsichord--one result of Neely’s frequent opportunities for experimenting with the instrument’s textures at the small two-manual Sperrhake harpsichord, shoehorned into the third-floor dormer room I rented at one of Rochester’s “organ student houses,” 20 Sibley Place.

During my seven years of teaching in Virginia I played a fair amount of 20th-century harpsichord music: Ned Rorem’s Lovers, the Falla Concerto, the Martinu Sonate. But there I was primarily a choral conductor and organist (and enjoyed premiering several new works written for choir or organ by St. Paul’s College colleague Walter Skolnik and New York composer Robin Escovado). My only harpsichord “commission” of this period went to the builder William Dowd, along with almost half a year’s salary, for my first truly first-rate harpsichord, one of his early Blanchet-inspired instruments, delivered to Norfolk in January 1969.

Rudy Shackelford

Shortly after moving to Dallas in 1970, an unanticipated package reached me at Southern Methodist University. This contained Virginia composer Rudy Shackelford’s piece Le Tombeau de Stravinsky. Since my SMU colleague Robert Anderson was a devoted exponent of wild and wooly new organ music, it seemed fitting for me to take on Rudy’s serialism. I also liked the work, and included it on my first Musical Heritage Society disc, The Harpsichord Now and Then, released in 1975.

Ross Lee Finney

Another challenging work, more thorny than I usually care to learn, is Ross Lee Finney’s unique essay for the instrument, Hexachord for Harpsichord. In four movements (Aria, Stomp, Ornaments, Fantasy), the 12-minute work was commissioned for me to play at a Hartt School of Music contemporary keyboard music festival scheduled for June 1984. Drawing few registrants, the event was cancelled, so I gave the first performance that fall in Dallas, not playing it in the composer’s presence until a concert in Hartford the following year.

Working with Finney was quite daunting. A most distinguished and individual composer, he basically disregarded my several suggestions as to texture, and provided me with a nearly-illegible score, the successful realization of which absolutely required a damper pedal, unfortunately not available on most harpsichords. I struggled to read his chicken scratches and tried to parlay his ideas into something that made sense on a plucked instrument. Eventually I wrote him a detailed letter filled with questions and suggestions for possible improvements, not knowing if I would be ignored, despised, or possibly even removed from the project.

Instead, this generous and intelligent man wrote back that it was all very helpful--reminding him of the careful editing his Piano Sonata had received years earlier from its first performer, John Kirkpatrick. For Hexachord’s last movement, the most unplayable of the four, he promised a revision, although current work on his opera left him little time. When the promised revision arrived, it was accompanied by this note: 

I don’t know whether this is better or worse. I’ve spent the vacation week on it and now am so loaded with commitments that it’s the best I can hope for. . . . I tied my right leg to the piano stool so I hope I didn’t think in terms of pedal. . .

Responding to a tape of the first performance, Finney wrote,

I like immensely your performance . . . It seems to me that you have done a wonderful job of projecting the music and it sounds better to me than I feared it would. I like all of your revisions, particularly the ending of the last movement, and I will see that your corrections get in the copy with Peters so that when it is published, they will be included. . .

Unfortunately, this was not to be the case. The printed score from Peters does not present the preferred ending, but rather a more-protracted, rather anemic one.

Herbert Howells

A major commission from the 1970s was Herbert Howells’ Dallas Canticles, the unique Magnificat and Nunc Dimittis composed for St. Luke’s Church, where I was organist and choirmaster from 1971 until 1980. This lovely work was first performed there in 1975. The dedication and copyright of the work, basically a gift from the generous English composer, led to some early adventures in music publishing and the nurturing of  professional and personal connections with the American composer, church musician, and publisher Gerald Near.

Gerald Near

Undoubtedly the most ambitious of my commissions thus far is Near’s three-movement Concerto for Harpsichord, composed for performance at the 1980 national convention of the American Guild of Organists in Minneapolis. Gerald, a Minnesota resident at that time, had not been included in the group of composers invited to provide new works for the gathering, so I asked him to write a concerted work for my program in Orchestra Hall. He took on the project, and, most generously, accepted no fee for this major work.

The performance was carefully prepared, with the composer conducting a superb string ensemble comprising players from the St. Paul Chamber Orchestra. The work was greeted with warm applause and considerable affection by the large crowd of attendees. And why not? The piece is very appealing, with memorable melodies, lush harmonies, and an appropriately balanced scoring. Critic Byron Belt, writing in The American Organist for August 1980, concentrated his remarks on the plethora of new scores heard during the convention. Of the Near he commented “ . . . its obvious popular appeal was instantly audible in a splendid performance by Larry Palmer (to whom it is dedicated) and the orchestra under the composer.” In The Diapason (August 1980), Marilou Kratzenstein opined, “The Distler [Allegro Spirituoso e Scherzando] and Near works are both very idiomatic to the medium. By skillful orchestration, the harpsichord part comes through clearly even when accompanied by a 22-piece string orchestra. Both of these attractive works were given clean, crisp performances. It was a pleasure to be present at the premiere of the Gerald Near concerto, which will likely become a favorite with harpsichordists in the near-future.” A future “for the Near” has taken considerably longer than anticipated, but, at last, Gerald’s lovely work had its second performance in October 2004, this time with the SMU Meadows Symphony under Paul Phillips.

Ever peripatetic, Near lived in Dallas for a time, where he held several church positions. When I needed a piece to conclude a program given in conjunction with the Dallas Museum of Art’s major show of El Greco paintings I turned again to Gerald. He spent some time at my house trying various ideas on the harpsichord. The resulting Triptych, completed in 1982, was first played in public at the Museum in January 1983. It certainly achieved its requisite Spanish flavor in the concluding movement, a brilliant neo-Scarlattian romp. Before that Final there are two lovely miniatures--an impressionistic Carillon, and the lyrically Italianate Siciliano (inspired by the composer’s love interest at the time). All three movements are idiomatically conceived for the instrument.

Vincent Persichetti

Dear Vincent Persichetti responded to questions concerning his then-unpublished 1951 Harpsichord Sonata by sending a copy of the manuscript. I loved the work immediately, and still find this first essay for harpsichord to be Vincent’s most arresting and accessible work for the instrument! By the time I was engaged to play a harpsichord recital for the Philadelphia gathering of the International Congress of Organists in 1977, his Sonata was available in printed form. The concert was scheduled to be played in historic St. George’s Methodist Church in the central city, so Persichetti, who lived in Philadelphia, planned to attend, but heavy rain that afternoon delayed him. (It also knocked out power to many venues, causing consternation, and cancellation, for some concurrent organ recitals.) The composer arrived at the church just as my program ended, so I offered to play his Sonata for him after the audience departed. I did so, he made cogent comments (some of them concerned keeping steady tempi and he advised playing the work exactly as he had notated it), and he autographed my printed score (“Thanks to Larry Palmer for a meaningful Benjamin Franklin performance in my own city.” [The reference to Franklin refers to the bridge bearing his name. St. George’s is adjacent to the bridge access road, allowing considerable noise every few minutes from public transit vehicles.]). Then he drove me back to the hotel.

Thus began an acquaintance, nurtured by a Sonata commission from me, occasional piquant notes, or the random, unexpected telephone call from the composer. When he published an incorrect wording of the dedication in my commissioned Sonata VI (crediting Southern Methodist University with payment of the commission fee, an error that I feared might cause problems with some of my academic colleagues), Vincent assured me that he would think of some way to make it up to me. A year or so later, he telephoned with the news that his latest piece, Serenade Number 15, would bear the inscription “Commissioned by Larry Palmer.” “To make it official,” he said, “send me a check for one dollar.” Because this was a time of high inflation, I sent him a check for two dollars, eliciting the response, “How wonderful--this is the first time I’ve ever had a commission doubled!”

It was even more gratifying for me, since I gained two works from a significant composer for a total fee of $502.

Persichetti’s concise Serenade consists of five short movements: the moody Prelude, marked desolato; a quicker Episode; the even faster Bagatelle; a gentle, cantabile Arioso; and the closing Capriccio--made up of a delicato single line, in the texture of a Bach composition for solo stringed instrument. The seven-minute work reminds that, while Persichetti was a distinguished academic, whose mind espoused complicated serial techniques, his soul remained true to the song-inspired expressivity of his Italian heritage.

Rudy Davenport

The 1990s saw a veritable spate of harpsichord writing by Texas-based composer Rudy Davenport. First introduced to me in 1992 through Fr. Tom Goodwin, a harpsichord-playing Catholic padre on Padre Island, Rudy provided me with nine unique works for solo harpsichord or small ensemble with harpsichord. His first national exposure came at the combined 1998 Southeastern and Midwestern Historical Keyboard Societies’ meeting in Texas, where a program devoted to Davenport’s harpsichord writing concluded with the haunting Songs of the Bride, the composer’s settings of texts from The Song of Solomon for solo soprano, oboe, and harpsichord. (Six of these works comprise the program for the compact disc Music of Rudy Davenport, issued by Limited Editions Recordings in 2003.)

Some of my most enjoyable concert experiences have been those involving making music with others, and none has offered more delight than performing music for multiple harpsichords (usually two prove difficult enough to nudge into some semblance of compatible tunings). A Davenport work of exceptional charm, but one not graced with a completely written-out score, is his At Play with Giles Farnaby, a set of seven variations and a fugal finale on Farnaby’s For Two Virginals (Number 55 in the Fitzwilliam Virginal Book). Rudy heard this short piece when it was performed by colleague Barbara Baird and me during our 1994 summer harpsichord workshop in New Mexico. His jaunty take on it, as well as the delightful and crafty contrapuntal ending have been an audience favorite on the two occasions we played together. This duo harpsichord work was an especially intensive collaboration, in its creation as well as its performance. Since the divergence of our ways after 1999, I have missed such exuberant music making, as well as the active involvement in fine polishing and editing Rudy’s engaging works.

Glenn Spring

But that void has been filled by the reintroduction into my artistic life of the Denver-based composer Glenn Spring, first encountered at the 1990 Alienor Harpsichord Composition competition finals in Augusta, Georgia. There his William Dowd: His Bleu was one of the winning works. Eventually Spring’s composition was published in The Diapason’s February 1992 tribute to the eminent harpsichord maker. A short while later Glenn’s son Brian moved to Dallas, giving us yet another reason to “stay in touch.” After Brian’s departure from this part of Texas there were years of diminishing communication, a situation suddenly reversed by Brian’s “out-of-the-blue” early morning call from Korea, where he was employed as an English teacher. He must have told his father about this call, for shortly thereafter I received a copy of a 1999 keyboard work, Glenn’s seven-movement charmer Trifles (now a prize winner in the most recent Alienor Competition, 2004). I liked it, learned it, and began playing it in recitals here and there.

A special confluence of friends occurred when Charles and Susan Mize, having contracted for Richard Kingston’s opus 300 Millennium harpsichord, a spectacular nine-foot Franco-Flemish instrument with contemporary brushed steel stand and computer-compatible music desk, asked me to play the Washington, D.C. dedication concert on the instrument. I thought it desirable that Charles should play on his new instrument at that event, so I commissioned Glenn Spring to write a work for two players at one instrument. The pleasing result was Suite 3-D, comprising Denver Rocket, Big D[allas] Blues, and D C Steamroller (honoring the three D’s of our home cities), interspersed with two quiet, lyrical movements (Romance, Night Thoughts). For a second performance on my home concert series (Limited Editions), long-time colleague Charles Brown brought both his musical and histrionic skills to the work, serving as collaborative harpsichordist as well as creator and reader of witty verses before each movement.

The most recent sins of commission, from the year 2004, have included another ensemble work by Spring, Images from Wallace Stevens for Violin and Harpsichord, first performed February 13 in celebration of the 20th season of house concerts (program number 60). Meeting Glenn’s wife, violinist Kathleen Spring, at the Mize harpsichord dedication program, I invited her to join me in this anniversary season, and inquired about possible violin and harpsichord pieces from her husband’s catalog. He responded by offering to compose something for us. Consisting of seven movements, the Images are inspired by short bits of Stevens’ poetry, so much of which evokes musical connections.

Tim Broege

Tim Broege’s score Songs Without Words Set Number Seven, composed for the SMU Wind Ensemble’s conductor Jack Delaney and me, had its first performance by the group and mezzo-soprano Virginia Dupuy on April 16, 2004. The most notable and prominent part for harpsichord is Broege’s reworking of the famous Lachrimae Pavan by John Dowland as each section is presented by the solo harpsichord, then reprised by the full ensemble, heard as the fifth of the work’s nine movements. (This setting may be extracted and played as a solo harpsichord composition).

Simon Sargon

My 35th annual faculty recital at SMU in September 2004 featured the first public hearing of composition professor Simon Sargon’s harpsichord reworking  of Dos Prados (“From the Meadows”), another lovely pavan, originally conceived for the single-manual 1762 Iberian organ in SMU’s Meadows Museum, and now, with a few changes of texture and tessitura, effectively adapted for solo harpsichord.

Involving composers in our performing lives is one of the most rewarding actions we can take. For us it provides the excitement of adding new pieces to our repertoire; for them, it is an affirmation of their necessary contributions to the ongoing vitality of our art; and perhaps not least, this is one pleasure that is neither life-threatening nor fattening! I urge each of you to join me in committing some sins of commission in the near future.

Sources

Calvin Hampton: Consonance remains unpublished; however an increasing number of his organ works are available from  Wayne Leupold Editions (available through ECS Publishing).

Neely Bruce: Nine Variations is available from <[email protected]> (or 212/875-7011).

Rudy Shackelford: Tombeau de Stravinsky is published by Joseph Boonin (B.319).

Recording: The Harpsichord Now and Then (Larry Palmer, harpsichord), MHS LP 3222.

Ross Lee Finney: Hexachord for Harpsichord is published by Edition Peters (67034).

Herbert Howells: Dallas Canticles, Aureole Editions (available from MorningStar Music).

For additional information about the commissioning of this work, see my article “Herbert Howells and the Dallas Canticles” in The American Organist, October 1992, pp. 60-62.

Gerald Near: Concerto for Harpsichord and Strings 1980 (Aureole Editions 149; performance materials on rental only) and Triptych for Harpsichord (Aureole Editions 02) are both available from MorningStar Music.

Recording (Triptych): 20th Century Harpsichord Music, vol. 2 (Barbara Harbach, harpsichord), Gasparo GSCD-266.

Vincent Persichetti: his nine Harpsichord Sonatas and Serenade 15, are published by Elkan-Vogel.

For additional information see my article “Vincent Persichetti: A Love for the harpsichord (Some Words to Mark his 70th Birthday)” in The Diapason, June 1985, p. 8.

Rudy Davenport: Scores are available from the composer at <www.RudyDavenport. com>.

For additional information, see my article “Rudy Davenport’s Harpsichord Music of the 1990s” in The Diapason, April 2004, p. 18.

Recording: Music of Rudy Davenport (Patti Spain, soprano; Stewart Williams, oboe; Larry Palmer, harpsichord), Limited Editions Recordings LER 9904.

Glenn Spring: Scores are available from the composer at <[email protected]>.

Tim Broege: Scores are available from the composer at <[email protected]>.

Simon Sargon: Scores are available from the composer at <[email protected]>.

A posthumous gift from Gustav Leonardt

It is now six years since Gustav Leonhardt departed this mortal coil on January 16, 2012, but his idiomatic arrangements of J. S. Bach’s solo violin and cello suites, partitas, and sonatas have recently been published by Bärenreiter-Verlag. This new volume presents an unexpected New Year’s gift to those of us who had feared that the master harpsichordist’s transcriptions of some of the composer’s most beloved music might have been burned along with the bulk of his personal correspondence.

Issued in the familiar-looking blue Bach Edition as Suites, Partitas, Sonatas Transcribed for Harpsichord (BA 11820, ˇ39.95) the idiomatic arrangements have been prepared for publication by Leonhardt’s friend and student Sieba Henstra, who has contributed a comprehensive editorial commentary. Skip Sempé’s eloquent preface quotes Bach contemporaries Jacob Adlung and Johann Friedrich Agricola, both of whom wrote about Bach’s own keyboard performances of these works that were originally written for bowed string instruments. Sempé concludes by quoting Leonhardt’s own words from the Dutchman’s notes to a 1976 recording: “I think that Bach would have forgiven me for the fact that I have set myself to making arrangements of his works; whether or not he would have forgiven the way I have done it, remains, of course, a moot point.”

The following 135 pages of music comprise the violin sonatas in D minor, transposed from the original G minor, BWV 1001; in G major, from C major, BWV 1005; three Partitas, in E minor, from the original B minor, BWV 1002; G minor, from D, BWV 1004; and A major, from E, BWV 1006. The cello suites in E-flat, BWV 1010, C minor, BWV 1011, and D major, BWV 1012, are transcribed without a change of key; and two individual movements, an Allemande in A minor, from Bach’s Partita for Flute, BWV 1013, and “Sarabande in C Minor” from his Suite for Lute, BWV 997, are likewise both transcribed in their original keys.

It has been an unmitigated pleasure to play through these magnificent pieces and a special joy to have another musical connection to a great mentor and friend­—the opportunity to play Leonhardt’s harpsichord-friendly version of the extensive D-Minor Ciaccona for Solo Violin (which sounds magnificent in its higher G minor key) and to compare it with the thicker, more pianistic arrangement by John Challis (his 1941 manuscript found at the Library of Congress, still unpublished). I recommend this new volume to all harpsichordists who love Bach’s music, and I wish for each player the unique joy of experiencing yet another addition to our ever-expanding keyboard repertoire.

G. L. dubs me his “Doctor-Father”

An excerpt from a letter received from Professor Leonhardt, dated Amsterdam, June 3, 2003:

Dear Larry,

. . . Fond memories bring me back to Dallas’ SMU [Southern Methodist University]. Do you know that you started my series [of honorary degrees]? Followers were Amsterdam, Harvard, Metz and Padova . . .

With all best wishes,

Yours ever,

Utti L.

A lengthy backstory is involved, the culmination of many years of varied experiences with Leonhardt.  

I first visited Haarlem, the Netherlands, during the summer of 1958 when fellow Oberlin organ major Max Yount and I drove through much of northern Europe following our junior year at the Salzburg Mozarteum. We spent several days in the charming Dutch town, attending events sponsored by its annual Summer Academy. Four years later, after completing doctoral study at the Eastman School in Rochester, New York, I was hired for my first academic position at St. Paul’s College, Lawrenceville, Virginia, a small school where I taught for two years as a replacement music professor while the incumbent was pursuing his doctoral studies. Following that first year of teaching I returned to Europe during the summer break to attend the first of my two Haarlem summer academies. The year was 1964, and my purpose was to join the three-week class of intensive harpsichord studies with Professor Gustav Leonhardt.

Three years later I returned to Haarlem, full of ideas and solutions that had been developing since that first encounter with Leonhardt’s teaching. By this time I was fully convinced that his examples of number symbolism and its hidden truths in many Bach works were indeed correct as well as fascinating. We had a very full repertoire assignment for that summer of 1967, and many of the participants in Leonhardt’s classes were too reticent to volunteer as players. I was not afraid to play for him, so I was invited to do so quite frequently. And, since I was staying with a friend in Amsterdam this time around, it happened that I usually arrived at the train station about the same time as my professor. We would have coffee together as we made the short trip to Haarlem, and I came to know Leonhardt as a delightful travel companion, as well as an inspiring teacher.

After my 1970 move to teach in Dallas there were quite a few opportunities to hear Leonhardt during his various concert trips to the United States. As a member of SMU’s faculty senate for 12 years, eventually I was named chair of the Honorary Degrees Committee. Perusing a list of past recipients I noted that artists, musicians, and women seemed to be few and far between in the honors lists, so I proposed three names to the senate: Georgia O’Keeffe, Leonard Bernstein, and Gustav Leonhardt. My faculty colleagues were enthusiastic about all three of them. 

The university president, however, not so much. There was a rule that each honors recipient had to appear in person to receive the degree. Georgia O’Keeffe let it be known that she did not need the honor, but would be happy to accept it if it were bestowed in a balloon over Albuquerque. I suggested that a video could be made of such an event, one that would surely arouse far-reaching interest throughout the entire United States. The president nearly had apoplexy, and that idea was scuttled at once. Leonard Bernstein was already scheduled to be in Dallas to conduct a benefit concert in SMU’s McFarlin Auditorium on the next day following commencement. In this instance I suggested that his degree ceremony be postponed until that evening, when it would make sense to bestow Lennie’s honor during the concert’s intermission. Again, it was too radical an idea, and Bernstein’s honorary degree also was denied.

Leonhardt already had concert commitments on the date of the ceremonies for 1982, but he communicated to SMU’s administrators that he would be delighted to arrange his schedule to accept his first doctorate the following year. Thus it was that on May 21, 1983, I had the proud honor of reading Gustav Leonhardt’s doctoral citation, ending with the time-honored statement, “In recognition of his consummate artistry and service to the world of music, Southern Methodist University is proud to confer upon Gustav Leonhardt the degree Doctor of Music, honoris causa.” 

Shortly thereafter he suggested that, from henceforth, it need not be “Dr. Leonhardt” or “Dr. Palmer,” but, in friendship, the time had come for us to use first names, even the diminutive “Utti” that his close friends were invited to call him.

As part of Utti’s commencement weekend in Dallas he gave a solo recital (which included his transcription of the D-Minor Violin Partita), conducted a harpsichord masterclass for our students, and served as the much-appreciated speaker for the evening ceremony during which each School of the Arts student walked across the stage to receive the diploma signifying a degree that had been granted that morning at the all-university ceremony. Utti had found a 17th-century English poem about a hard-drinking British university student, a word picture that soon had his audience convulsed in paroxysms of laughter. We had many post-ceremony requests for that text, but we never procured a copy of it. I still wonder if, perhaps, Utti, who had a very droll sense of humor, might not have composed the poem himself?

At any rate, I found it amusing, as did he, that a student should become the “Doctor-Father” for his teacher, the whole concept of which has to do with the thesis advisor for the philosophy doctorate in German academia. It has occurred to me that, in writing this long-overdue memoir, my delight at the publication of Leonhardt’s lovely Bach transcriptions may be the final award for such a brilliant “thesis” and should require the time-honored repetition of the words, “Welcome to the company of scholars.” But of course, he had been in that company already for a very, very long time.

2017 Harpsichord News columns: a guide

January: According to Janus: columns published in 2016; the East Texas Pipe Organ Festival 2016: two vignettes; possible future topics.

February: The A-Team: Antoinette Vischer and her commissions of contemporary harpsichord music.

March: Lessons from (François) Couperin: hints for harpsichord pedagogy using his L’art de toucher le Claveçin.

April: Where next? More pedagogical repertory suggestions.

May: An Italian Christmas; Paul Wolfe; Glen Wilson’s Froberger CD.

June: Harpsichord maker Richard Kingston: a tribute for his 70th birthday.

July: Celebrating Scott Ross; a performance practice letter from Beverly Scheibert, Early Keyboard Journal #30; remembering Isolde Ahlgrimm.

August: Christmas in August: reviews of J. William Greene’s Christmas Ayres and Dances, Book 2, a new CD of Stephen Dodgson’s Inventions for Harpsichord, and Meredith Kirkpatrick’s book, Reflections of an American Harpsichordist, essays by her uncle, Ralph Kirkpatrick.

September: Recital programming: sample program notes by LP from a harpsichord recital at the East Texas Pipe Organ Festival, 2012.

October: From the Harpsichord Editor’s mailbox: four new keyboard scores by Carson Cooman; John Turner’s discovery of a lost cantata (with harpsichord) by British composer Alan Rawsthorne; and Mark Schweizer’s 14th Liturgical Mystery.

November: From A to Z: Aliénor retrospective in May 2018 and SMU’s Meadows Museum Zurbarân Exhibition celebrated musically at the 1762 Caetano Oldovini organ.

December: Remembering Zuzana Ru˚žicˇková by Robert Tifft.

Chestnut roasters selling their aromatic wares on the avenues of Lisbon and the cobbled streets of Evora, as well as the slightly guttural sounds of Portuguese, spoken all around me, signaled decisively that I was not in Texas during the third week of October 2000. Warm, sunny fall weather greeted travelers to Portugal October 24-29, the week of the fourth annual organ festival in the Alentejo region, 100 miles or so southeast of Lisbon. Organized by organist and historian João Paulo Janeiro, the programs took place in Evora, Vila Viçosa, Serpa, Alvito, Estremoz, and Arraiolos. Featured works this year were from the time of Portuguese monarch Dom João V (1706-50); four of the concerts utilized distinctive 18th-century organs.

The first events took place in the municipal museum of Evora, where eminent musicologist and Iberian music specialist Gerhard Doderer led a late-afternoon seminar on the little-known composer Jaime de la Te y Sagan (d. 1736). Being decidedly Portuguese-challenged, I decided to continue my recovery from the rigors of a long trip, and join the festival-goers later that evening for the first concert, a revelatory recital by Professor Doderer's wife, Cremilde Rosado Fernandes (Professor of Harpsichord at the Escola Superior de Musica in Lisbon). Playing a triple-fretted clavichord in a program of four sonatas by Domenico Scarlatti, six by Carlos Seixas, and three by Antonio Soler, Mme. Fernandes played with grace and authority. Tastefully ornamented repeats, musical and skillful, banished any thoughts of boredom. It was especially good to hear, successively, two possible solutions to the tremulo "problem" in Scarlatti's scores: Fernandes gave us both mordent and repeated note trills in K. 208.

Concerts beyond Evora took place in smaller towns, difficult (if not impossible) to reach by public transport. Since I had no desire to drive a rental car (there were enough musical thrills without adding death-defying negotiation of tiny alleys and highway acrobatics), it was only through the good graces of Senhor Janeiro, who drove the not-inconsiderable distance from Lisbon for each program, that I was able to attend most of the programs. Wednesday's recital in Vila Viçosa was set in the chapel of the Ducal Palace, a marble building of imposing grandeur. The organ, in a side gallery, is an unsigned instrument, perhaps the work of an 18th-century German builder (Janeiro suggests Ulenkampf because of the non-Iberian Cromorne and Sesquialtera registers included in this one-manual instrument of eleven stops). Organist Jesus Martin Moro (Professor of Organ in the Conservatory at Pau) played a suitable and vigorous program of works by Cabanilles, Mestres, Casanoves, Frei Jacinto do Sacramento, Seixas, Domenico Scarlatti (the first time I had ever heard his "Cat" Fugue, K. 30 played on the organ), ending with an exhilarating Sonata de Clarines by Soler. The drive back to Evora was made memorable by the sudden appearance of four wild pigs, crossing the road very sedately directly in front of us.

I did not attend the Thursday concert for viola da gamba and organ, given by Hille Perl and Michael Behringer (Freiburg-im-Breisgau). According to reports from listeners the temperament of the organ in Igreja Matriz, Serpa, was quite astringent for the advanced modulations of the Bach Sonatas in G and D. Other works on the program were by Corelli, Poglietti, and Bononcini. On this day I was driven from Evora to Alvito (in the car of the Regional Minister of Culture), booked into a five-star pousada, the Castello of Alvito (a renovated historic building now run as a luxury hotel by the government), and introduced to the glorious 1785 organ by Pacali Caetano Oldovini, in Igreja Matriz, where I would play the next recital in the series.

Oldovini, an Italian who built organs in Evora and throughout the Alentejo, was the link which first brought me to Portugal several years ago. The Meadows Museum at Southern Methodist University owns the unique Oldovini organ to be found outside Europe. Our 1762 instrument, purchased in 1983 from Dutch musicologist M. A. Vente, was originally in the Cathedral of Evora. Senhor Janeiro, who has made an inventory of surviving instruments by Oldovini, had written me to ascertain details of our instrument, and since has guided me in visits to other instruments from this builder's hand.

The organ in Alvito, built in the last year of Oldovini's life, is a magnifcent single-manual instrument of nine registers (with an extended compass to D5 and bass short octave). Especially beautiful are the Flautado (8-foot Principal), stopped flute (4-foot), an Italianate Voz humana (celesting rank), and the Clarim (a brilliant en-chamade reed, from middle C-sharp up). The church interior, richly adorned with ceramic tiles and gold-inlaid altars, provides a warm, resonant space.

I divided my program into two halves: first, music of the "Iberian Heritage"--works by Valente, Pablo Bruna, an anonymous Obra de falsas cromaticas (to show the Voz humana), and three works by Cabanilles. Then, as requested, music from the time of Dom João: two sonatas by Seixas, alternating with short pieces by Johann Sebastian Bach, two Scarlatti sonatas, and finally a rip-roaring Seixas Fugue in A minor, with the Clarim blaring away on the repeats of A and B sections.

Another beautiful organ (post-Oldovini, 1791) was heard in the recital by Rui Paiva (Professor of Organ at the National Conservatory in Lisbon) on Sunday evening in Igreja San Francisco, Estremoz. His program, largely comprising galant music from Italy, proved to be exciting due to intense, energetic playing of works by Zipoli, Paganelli, Padre Martini, Galuppi, Domenico Scarlatti, and Handel (Fugue in B-flat Major, Concerto in F "The Cuckoo and the Nightingale").

A very late-night trip back to Lisbon, with an unforgettable approach to the city over Santiago Calatrava's Vasco da Gama Bridge (the longest in Europe), an early morning arrival at Lisbon Airport, and the shock of flight cancellations (the worst storms in a decade had hit western Europe), led to an unscheduled extra day in Lisbon. Not, however, a long enough delay to allow attendance at the final concert of the festival, a harpsichord recital by Ana Mafalda Castro (Professor of Harpsichord at the Escola Superior de Musica in Porto), on Friday November 3 in Arraiolos (music of Pedro de Araujo, Francesco Durante, Zipoli, G. B. Platti, Seixas, Scarlatti, and Soler).

The IV Jornadas de Orgão Alentejo was a festival which met its artistic goal:   the presentation of a specific Iberian keyboard repertoire on treasured instruments of the region, with enough additional music from non-Iberian composers to establish context and provide further 18th-century compositions for comparison. Funding from the Culture Ministry, the Archdiocese of Evora, and the Foundation of the Casa de Bragança supported the engaging of artists from four countries--making this truly an international effort. Although attendance was less than in former years, thanks to the artistic vision and organizational skills of festival director João Paulo Janeiro, those who attended the programs heard, once again, a rich and colorful selection of baroque music played on instruments for which it was intended. Well-restored organs in picturesque historic sites, the lure of memorable food and those outstanding local wines, as well as a reason to spend time in Portugal: what could be better? And there was the smell of chestnuts roasting . . .

From “A” to “Z”

A = Aliénor

On Saturday evening, May 12, 2018, at the University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, the closing program for the forthcoming 2018 conference of the Historical Keyboard Society of North America (HKSNA) is scheduled to be a “Retrospective Event” reprising representative contemporary harpsichord works selected from each of the nine Aliénor Harpsichord Composition Competitions that have occurred, beginning with the first in Tallahassee, Florida, in 1982, and culminating with the ninth in Montréal, Québec, Canada, in 2015.

Founded in 1980 by George Lucktenberg, both the Southeastern Historical Keyboard Society (SEHKS) and the Aliénor Competitions were developed under the same organizational banner, the contemporary emphasis providing an unusual added concept to the mission of the fledgling early music organization. As preparations began for a third iteration of the Aliénor Competition, Lucktenberg sent a letter (dated May 19, 1990) to the recently chosen Honorary Advisory Board of ten professionals, from whom he sought help and suggestions as he formulated the rules and requirements for publication in the printed materials to be sent to prospective participants.

Re-reading the names of these board members brought back memories of an especially vibrant time in the harpsichord’s 20th-century revival and demonstrated the remarkably broad geographical spread of Lucktenberg’s acquaintanceship! In alphabetical order: William Albright (Michigan), Frances Bedford (Wisconsin), Frank Cooper (Florida), Elaine Funaro (North Carolina), Derrick Henry (Georgia), Igor Kipnis (Connecticut), Linda Kobler (New York), Larry Palmer (Texas), Keith Paulson-Thorp (Florida), and Elaine Thornburgh (California), all of whom were deeply involved in writing, promoting, and/or playing contemporary harpsichord music. Lucktenberg wrote, “I’d like more music which is not impenetrably difficult to read and perform, yet is first-class composing, and identifiably late-20th-century, all at the same time. WHO can give us that? How shall we get it?” His words certainly gave the board a good idea of the parameters he hoped to put in place.

Eventually, after the addition of a harpsichord performance competition named in honor of its sponsors Mae and Irving Jurow, the SEHKS board of directors agreed that attempting the organization and facilitation of two major competitions in alternate years was too heavy an administrative burden for busy volunteer professionals, and the quadrennial Aliénor project and its endowment were reorganized as a separate entity, but one still welcomed as a cooperative program during SEHKS conferences. Elaine Funaro succeeded George Lucktenberg as artistic director of Aliénor, and after her most successful term in that position the gala Ann Arbor retrospective will be her last “hurrah” as Aliénor just recently has been returned to the control of its former sponsor, no longer SEHKS, but now the successor society, HKSNA, which, since 2012, has been merged with the formerly independent Midwestern Historical Keyboard Society to comprise one inclusive North American early keyboard group.

In addition to competition-winning works by Ivar Lunde, Roberto Sierra, Tom Robin Harris, Glenn Spring, John Howell Morrison, Penka Kouneva, Rudy Davenport, Asako Hirabayashi, James Dorsa, Graham Lynch, Ivan Božicevic, Dina Smorgonskaya, and Andrew Collett, the May program will include two newly commissioned pieces composed by Thomas Donahue and Mark Janello, heard in premiere performances by Donahue and retiring Aliénor artistic director Funaro.

Be sure to include this “once-in-a-lifetime” celebration on your “to-do” schedule for the fast-approaching spring of 2018.

Z = Zurbarán

If you are interested in unusual art exhibitions and reside closer to Dallas, Texas, than to New York City, you might wish to take advantage of the current presentation at the Meadows Museum on the Southern Methodist University (SMU) campus. The Meadows has scored quite a coup as it shows, for the first time in the western hemisphere, a complete set of thirteen life-sized paintings by the Spanish artist Francisco de Zurbarán (1598–1664). The only other venue for this exhibition will be the Frick Collection in New York.

The Meadows is home to one of the most comprehensive collections of Iberian art in the world. Current museum director Mark Roglán has forged an impressive relationship with Madrid’s Prado Museum, so we in Dallas have become accustomed to rare and rarer viewing experiences. One of the current showings, “Jacob and His Twelve Sons—Paintings from Auckland Castle,” is on view from September 17, 2017, through January 7, 2018. It follows another spectacular offering seen earlier this year: all the extant drawings (together with several remarkable oil paintings) by the esteemed Spanish artist Jusepe de Ribera (1591–1652) which, incidentally, contained the only portrayal I have ever seen of music’s patron Saint Cecilia at the clavichord!

From the press materials provided by the Meadows Museum: 

. . . Zurbarán was inspired by the biblical text Genesis 49, in which Jacob, Patriarch of the Israelites, gathers his twelve sons and delivers a prophetic blessing for each. [The series] consists of thirteen canvases with all but one remaining in the collection of a single owner at Auckland Castle, County Durham (UK) since 1756. [Bishop Richard Trevor of Durham extended the long dining room of his Auckland Castle residence to assure a suitable venue for these life-sized oil portraits.] This is the first time the majority of paintings in this exhibition have been presented in the Americas—indeed, it is the first time any such series of paintings by Zurbarán has been seen as a whole [on this side of the Atlantic].

But what, you ask, could be the reason that this artistic coup is featured in this column? I hasten to reassure you that there is a connection to early music! As one of many special events scheduled during this exhibition there is to be a brief collaboration utilizing another Meadows Museum acquisition, the Caetano Oldovini Portuguese organ (1762), which is rarely heard in a concert performance. As an aural “sorbet” to the afternoon segment of the daylong November 14 museum symposium devoted to discussion and reflections about the three major religions that trace roots back to the Twelve Tribes of Israel (Jewish, Christian, and Muslim), I was invited to fashion a thematically based program to play for the symposium participants.

I spent quite a lot of time attempting to find short pieces that might illustrate the various virtues and vices mentioned by Father Jacob as he made predictions and comments to and about his twelve sons. Considering the 35-minute time allotment, eventually it became apparent that such a set of pieces would require too many minutes, and that choosing an all-encompassing selection ranged from difficult to impossible, with impossible eventually tipping the scales.

Then, on one late-August morning, at last a burst of inspiration led to this playlist: from the time of the artist Zurbarán, a festive opener by Cabanilles (1644–1712) followed by the quiet and poignant Obra de falsas chromáticas from the Martin y Coll Manuscript (seventeenth century). Two pieces by John Bull (1562/3–1628) to celebrate the long-term British venue for the paintings: Coranto ‘Battle’ and Prelude and Carol: Let Us with Pure Heart. A work by my longtime SMU colleague, the distinguished Jewish composer Simon Sargon, who composed Dos Prados (From the Meadows) to fulfill my request for a work specifically made to fit the Caetano organ, his lovely Pavan with Variations (1997), expertly crafted to accommodate the organ’s bass short octave and its one treble Sesquialtera solo stop. Finally, two contrasting short pieces by later Iberian composers Domenico Zipoli (1688–1726) and José Lidon (1748–1827), the latter specifically chosen to close the recital with a short bit of avian warbling from the organ’s Rossignol stop.

The Meadows organ, originally housed in the cathedral of Evora, Portugal, is, as far as can be ascertained, the oldest playable pipe organ in Texas. The only possible rival for that designation might be the “Raisin” organ, now at the University of North Texas in Denton. A painstakingly researched and well-expressed 16-page history of this instrument, Raising the Raisin Organ, written by Susan Ferré in 2006, is accessible online by searching with the keywords Raisin organ and the author’s name.

For further information about the Zurbarán exhibition and the various special events being offered by the museum during its run, visit the website: https://meadowsmuseumdallas.org. And, should travels bring you to northern Texas this fall, consider a visit to Fort Worth, as well, where the Kimbell Art Museum currently hosts a popular art and artifact show based on the travels (and adventures) of the rake, Giacomo Casanova, Casanova: The Seduction of Europe (on view through December 31).

Summer Workshops, Past and Future

One of the greatest benefits of an academic life is the annual summer break, usually a time for professional renewal as well as for rest and relaxation. For the past decade and a half an anchoring activity has been my involvement with a yearly harpsichord workshop, most of them held at Southern Methodist University's satellite campus near Taos, in the majestic forested mountains of northern New Mexico.

Of course there are other summer offerings devoted to the harpsichord. For this report I have invited two eminent colleagues to join me in describing our summer programs from 2002 and in sharing information about plans for 2003.

Arthur Haas spends his summers involved with a number of festivals and workshops. The earliest among them occurs in California. Sponsored by the San Francisco Early Music Society, baroque solo and chamber music workshops, including the Dominican Ba-roque Workshop, are offered at Do-minican College in San Rafael. Here each day's activities divide into solo master classes in the mornings and chamber music coachings in the afternoons. Last year's faculty included Michael Sand, baroque violin; Marion Verbruggen, recorder; Martha McGaughey, viol; and others. Well balanced between hard work and relaxation, the workshop took place during the last week of June, which is also the time for next summer's course.

Mid-July brings an intense International Baroque Institute at the Longy School of Music in Cambridge, Massachusetts. Solo master classes and chamber music coachings fill the mornings. During the afternoons there are lectures on performance practice topics as well as baroque orchestra rehearsals. Colleagues here last year included co-directors Phoebe Carrai, baroque cello, and Paul Leenhouts, recorder.

In Rochester, New York, the Eastman [School of Music] Continuo Institute met from July 10–15. The full-time, all-day course provides two sections: one for beginners, who concentrate on learning to read the figures, and another for more advanced players, who "romp" through 150 years of continuo repertoire.

Last year was Haas' first year as director of the Baroque Academy at the Amherst Early Music Festival, which, despite its name, meets on the campus of the University of Connecticut in Storrs. This is a huge festival and workshop, of which the Academy is the highest level, meant for burgeoning young professionals and advanced students. Here harpsichord participants spend the day in their own master class, accompany other master classes, participate in chamber music coachings, listen to lectures, and play in the Amherst theater project. All this takes place during the first two weeks in August.

          *                  *                    *

Two separate week-long workshops drew harpsichordists to the School of Music, University of Michigan (Ann Arbor) last July. The first was concerned with the harpsichord music of John Bull and Peter Philips; the second, with the harpsichord sonatas of Domenico Scarlatti.

Taught by Edward Parmentier, Professor of Harpsichord and Director of the UM Early Music Ensemble, these workshops offered sessions in which participants played to receive detailed feedback about their own playing ("small groups"); analysis of the music and performance issues generally, but without discussion of a student's playing ("large groups"); and informal concerts, where the music was played without discussion.

Optional, free-for-all sessions ("open class") in which participants could play and discuss repertoire of their own choosing were offered in the evenings. Emphasis throughout was on the projection of one's own ideas about the music, harpsichord touch and technique, and analysis of various aspects of the compositions.

Topics for July 2003 have not been finalized, but may include aspects of basso continuo playing; music by Louis Couperin, Chambonnières, and D'Anglebert; and variations by J. S. Bach and others.

From July 29 through August 3, the fourteenth summer workshop offered at SMU-in-Taos drew nine participants from seven states and the District of Columbia to study music of "Byrd and the B's." Larry Palmer and Barbara Baird (herself a busy B) were joined by harpsichord maker Ted Robertson, graciously and efficiently filling in for Richard Kingston, whose wife Robin died early in July.

During the two-hour morning repertoire sessions Palmer and Baird coached students in works of Byrd and Bull; Toccatas, Inventions, and selected Preludes and Fugues from the Well-Tempered Clavier II (J. S. Bach); Polonaises (W. F. Bach) and Württemburg Sonata in E minor (C. P. E. Bach); plus several pieces by Balbastre and contemporary works of Bartók, Cathy Berberian, Boris Blacher, Busoni, and Neely Bruce.

Afternoons were filled with individual private lessons, practice, and harpsichord maintenance classes. "Talks at Tea Time," late-afternoon informal sessions, dealt with such subjects as performance anxiety, program building, and, in one afternoon at St. James Episcopal Church in Ranchos de Taos, the chorale preludes for organ of Johannes Brahms.

Monday evening's traditional opening faculty recital was played in the resonant Arts Auditorium on the campus at Fort Burgwin. Using a Willard Martin Saxon double harpsichord, Dr. Baird presented Sonatas by the Bach "boys" and J. S.'s F minor Prelude and Fugue (WTC II); Dr. Palmer programmed the Bach Toccata in E minor, Neely Bruce's Nine Variations on an Original Theme (1961), and works by Busoni and Balbastre. As an encore the two played the second movement of Benda's duet Sonata in E-flat Major.

The closing event of the workshop was the popular informal Saturday noon buffet luncheon at the home of Charles and Susan Mize (Tesuque, near Santa Fe). This annual send-off provides both food and fellowship for departing participants, as they head for the Albuquerque Airport.

Changing the venue to London (England), the 2003 workshop is set for the week of July 28-August 2, at Southlands College. Jane Clark will lead classes on selected Ordres by François Couperin, using her newly-published book about the composer, his times, and his titles. Larry Palmer's sessions will center on Herbert Howells' works for early keyboard, as well as works by J. S. Bach. Planned activities include visits to the Handel House Museum and a private instrument collection, tea with Virginia Pleasants, and a closing party at the nearby home of Jane Clark and Stephen Dodgson.

Three-score and ten:

Celebrating Richard Kingston

Born June 6, 1947, Richard Kingston reaches his Biblical milestone of 70 years this month. Now he is widely celebrated as one of America’s most distinguished harpsichord makers, but when Richard and I both arrived in Dallas in 1970, the world was younger, and the harpsichord still quite exotic and unfamiliar to many musically inclined listeners. The circumstances of our meeting seem quite humorous in retrospect: Southern Methodist University’s music department secretary left a note in my campus mail box: “Some nut wants to talk to you about a harpsichord.” And yes, the “nut” turned out to be Richard. To celebrate Richard’s multi-faceted life and his many contributions to the visibility and viability of the historic harpsichord during our nearly 50 years of collaboration and friendship, I have solicited some comments from several of our mutual colleagues.

• Jan Worden Lackey was my first Master of Music in harpsichord performance student at Southern Methodist University. Of those bygone years, she writes:

There was much new in the music world in Dallas in the 1970s and much of it revolved around the harpsichord. A young professor had come to SMU to lead its new degree program. Soon after his arrival a young man who, at that time had completed only one instrument, opened a professional harpsichord-building shop. The faculty member was Larry Palmer; the builder, Richard Kingston. We three, together with some others, founded and served on the board of directors of the Dallas Harpsichord Society.

The city was ready for historic keyboards and early music. There was a lot of publicity for our events. The Dallas Morning News printed concert notices, reviews, and feature articles, as did other local publications, for there was considerable interest in these concerts, lectures, instruction possibilities, and instruments.

It soon became apparent that Richard Kingston was an excellent and talented builder of harpsichords who both knew the instrument’s history, and possessed the requisite technical skills and ears to produce beautiful-sounding instruments. As a frequent visitor to his shop I found him friendly, an interesting conversationalist, and one who was ever delighted to show his latest work.

A lasting memory is of an evening spent playing one of Richard’s early instruments: I had been asked to be the solo harpsichordist for the opening of an exhibition at the Dallas Museum of Fine Art. Richard moved and tuned one of his magnificent French double harpsichords for the occasion. Memorable was the enjoyment of being surrounded by beautiful art, music, and the instrument—all together producing something that, individually, would not have made such an impact.

After Richard closed his shop and moved away from Dallas I had no contact with him. A few years ago my husband and I were invited to dinner at the home of a Santa Fe colleague. Included at our table were Dr. Palmer and Richard, who was still the same delightful and interesting person, happily sharing conversation and stories.

After a decade of successful harpsichord building in Dallas, Richard followed some sage advice from George Lucktenberg, founder of the Southeastern Historical Keyboard Society, who suggested that North Carolina had much to offer a harpsichord maker: namely its tradition of fine furniture making. Thus it was that Kingston’s 100th instrument, begun in Dallas, was completed in Marshall, North Carolina. Continuing his investigations into what should comprise a composite “eclectic northern European double harpsichord,” Richard developed a prototype during his first two years in the Carolinas. Important new clients, new craftspeople, and the soundboard painter Pam Gladding became his colleagues. At the apex of his sales, he produced 19 instruments in 1987, 14 in 1989—the final “big years,” as he noted in his shop history notes.

A beloved friend and colleague encountered at many meetings of the Southeastern Historical Keyboard Society (SEHKS) was the late musical and graphic artist Jane Johnson, whose clever drawing celebrating the birth of Richard’s first son combines two of his major achievements of the 1980s: starting a family and continuing to produce instruments of technical brilliance and physical beauty. Jane’s witty announcement card is typical of her warm heart and steady hand.

During Richard’s first decade in the eastern United States I had very little contact with him. However, that changed considerably during the 1990s with our increasing number of collaborations during SMU’s summer harpsichord workshops at Fort Burgwin, the university’s idyllic property near Ranchos de Taos, New Mexico. Richard taught classes in maintenance and tuning and “well-tuned” his elegant instruments. The rustic annual gatherings were succeeded by meetings in Denver and Santa Fe during the first decade of the 21st century. 

• Another of my outstanding harpsichord students from the early years at SMU, Barbara Baird joined us as a workshop faculty member for many of the summer offerings. She writes of her Kingston memories: 

I first met Richard in 1974 when I moved to Fort Worth to teach harpsichord at Texas Christian University. Through the years he and I found ourselves working together in Taos and Denver at SMU summer harpsichord events. I have long admired Richard’s gifts as a builder, his easy-going manner with students and harpsichord enthusiasts, and his willingness to make harpsichords travel. He would load a half dozen instruments worth tens of thousands of dollars into the back of his van and drive across the Southwest to make these harpsichord programs possible. Fearless? Foolish? No: Delightful!

November 1991 found Kingston at Clayton State University (Morrow, Georgia), where their six-day Spivey International Harpsichord Festival included a harpsichord builders’ competition. Twelve American makers each brought an example of their craft. After careful examination, the five-person jury unanimously awarded the Spivey Prize to Richard Kingston. Indeed, the jury chair, the German master craftsman Martin Skowroneck, told his cohorts that Richard’s instrument was so similar to something he himself might have made that Kingston and he must be soul mates! Since I was present to play the opening solo recital and chair a symposium of the builders, I was especially proud of my younger colleague’s great honor, and nearly overcome with emotion, when, for his acceptance of the award, he requested my presence beside him on stage. We had both come a very long way in 21 years!

The Georgia reunion led directly to the acquisition of my own Kingston harpsichord in 1994. A stellar example of Richard’s Franco-Flemish doubles, its keyboards utilize an octave span of 6¼ inches rather than the usual 6½—a small, but vital difference when attempting to negotiate some of the wide stretches found in many of the contemporary pieces that I have championed throughout my career.

A very special example of Kingston’s craft is his “Millennium” Harpsichord, Opus 300, built to celebrate things both old and new for the new century! The instrument received an extensive dedication recital debut on November 3, 2002, in the Washington, D.C., home of Charles and Susan Mize. Basically the well-loved Franco-Flemish Kingston double, this harpsichord is visually striking in its black-matte finish, supported on three stainless-steel pylons. An optional computer screen is also available as an augmentation of the usual music desk, thus allowing digitally scanned scores to be read by scrolling through them by utilizing a foot pedal.

Honored to be the first of a cadre of harpsichordists to “open” the musical feast, I chose a program that began with John Bull’s Coranto Kingston and ended with a commissioned work from composer Glenn Spring, Suite 3-D. This work for two to play at one harpsichord celebrates the hometowns of the composer (Denver) and the players (Dallas for me and D.C. [at that time] for Dr. Mize, who joined me for this first performance).

In the audience was one of Richard’s major mentors, the celebrated Boston harpsichord maker William Dowd. Following consecutive programs by Virginia Pleasants and Brigitte Haudebourg, Dowd’s shop foreman Don Angle brought down the house with his extraordinary keyboard skills in signature pieces by Scott Joplin, John Phillip Sousa, and, of course, the remarkable Angle himself.

When the Mizes moved to New Mexico a few years later, Opus 300 travelled with them. By then it had acquired a stunning lid painting in colorful abstract style by artist June Zinn Hobby. According to the harpsichord’s owners, my compact disc Hommages (recorded in 2007) is the only commercially available recording of this uniquely beautiful instrument.

• A brilliant harpsichordist and recording artist, Elaine Funaro lives in Durham, North Carolina, where her husband Randall Love teaches piano at Duke University. She describes her friendship with Kingston as follows:

Upon graduating from Oberlin College in 1974 I did what many harpsichordists did at the time: I went to Boston. There I started working for the harpsichord historian and decorator Sheridan Germann. For the most part we painted the soundboards of instruments from the shop of William Dowd, at the time the most famous American builder. Sheridan would travel around the country and to Paris [where Dowd had opened a second shop] to decorate soundboards. I recall her returning from a trip to Texas full of praise for the work of a new, young builder, Richard Kingston. That was the first time I heard his name.

Throughout the next decade his instruments, robust and musical, appeared at conferences and concerts. I did not need another instrument since I already had a Dowd, but our paths crossed more often when my husband and I returned from studies in Holland to settle in North Carolina. In 2009 Richard visited me and said that he had the parts for one last instrument and that he would like that instrument to be mine. As I was quite involved in performing contemporary music [as the Director of the Aliénor Competitions] we both wanted to create an instrument that reflected a completely modern aesthetic. Thus Richard’s Opus 333 was conceived. Currently Richard drops by quite often to regulate both the Dowd and his own instruments. We are very fortunate to have him so close by.

From the many archival papers that Kingston has entrusted to me for safekeeping and historical research, I share the following heartfelt words from this month’s honoree himself:

I have had a fascinating life and rewarding career. Often, upon reflection, it seems all that was ever required of me was to get dressed and show up each day. Considering the folk that took time with me, mentored me, gave me direction, I could not be any way other than successful in undertaking a career in harpsichord making.

I was on fire for the subject from the beginning, and that has never ceased. I did not plan it as a lifelong endeavor; I simply went from one harpsichord to the next, each intended to be the best work I could do, each as exciting to me as the very first.

The thrill of getting to the moment when I could begin voicing each instrument, to be reassured by those first sounds, was the same for me from the first to the last!

The sun is happy when it shines, a pen is happy when it writes, and I am happy when I am working on a harpsichord. I would do it all again.

As the fortunate owner of Richard’s harpsichord, the magnificent “Big Blue,” I share his happiness every time I play this triple-transposing instrument with its incredible resonance, even in the uppermost range of a treble that extends to top G.

One of the most memorable of the 101 Limited Editions Dallas house concerts presented during 33 years was the third one in season 28. On Sunday, February 19, 2012, Richard Kingston joined pianist Linton Powell and me as the narrator for a live performance of Said the Piano to the Harpsichord, which he had encountered as a favorite 45-rpm music disc during early childhood. The skit tells a dramatic story, illustrated with musical examples, during which sarcastic rivalry between the two keyboard instruments ends in collaboration, as demonstrated by composer Douglas Moore’s brief but charming Variations on The Old Gray Mare: the very recording that first introduced young Richard to the sounds of the harpsichord, thus beginning his lifelong love affair with the instrument.

It has been a fantastic journey, dear Maestro. Welcome to the “Three-Score-and-Ten” Club! Now, shall we both aim for “Four-Score” status?