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The Origins of Seewen’s Welte-Philharmonie

David Rumsey and Christoph E. Hänggi

Christoph E. Hänggi studied musicology, arts and history in Basel and Zürich (Ph.D.), later obtaining his Executive Master in Corporate Management. He is a member of the Swiss Musicology Society and was from 1990 to 1992 Head of Music for a classical radio station in Switzerland. From 1993 to 2003 he worked for the Bertelsmann Music Group (BMG), where he became Director International of a BMG Classics label in Munich. In June 2003 he was appointed Director of the Museum der Musikautomaten in Seewen SO, which is under the aegis of the Swiss Federal Office for Culture.
David Rumsey studied organ in Australia, Denmark, France and Austria. He rose to a senior lectureship in the Australian university system from 1969–1998, also pursuing an international teaching, concert and consulting career as an organist. He worked in various cross-disciplinary fields, especially linking broadcasting, drama and music, arranging a number of major presentations and seminars. In 1998, after mounting a 14-hour spectacle on the life of Bach with actors in period dress and musicians playing historic instruments, he left Australia and settled around 2002 in Basel, Switzerland, where he continues to work as an organist and consultant.

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Background
The Welte Company was a German firm, first established in 1832 at Vöhrenbach (in the Black Forest) by automata manufacturer Michael Welte (1807–1880). About 1865 he moved to Freiburg im Breisgau and registered there as M. Welte & Söhne. During the remainder of the 19th century, the firm expanded considerably and became particularly noted for its orchestrions. In 1904 Edwin Welte (1876–1958, grandson of the founder) invented the Vorsetzer, and from that By 1909 a recording organ had been built for Welte’s studios in Freiburg. The Philharmonie was displayed in November 1911 at the Turin Exhibition in Italy. Welte successfully went on to market player organs, cinema organs, cinema player organs and, later, when that market contracted during the 1930s, church organs. They issued punched paper roll recordings dated between 1912 and 1930 of performances by the great organists of the day, and sold them with considerable commercial success. From 1865–1917 they also ran a branch in New York (M. Welte & Sons) under Emil Welte (1841–1923, eldest son of the founder), but it was closed during World War I as an “alien enterprise.” Edwin Welte’s sister, Frieda, married Karl Bockisch (1874–1952), who was active in the firm from 1893 onwards. He later assumed a leading role and became a partner.
Player organs became status symbols of the rich. They were the epitome of home entertainment in their day and, along with orchestrions, were manufactured in both Europe and the USA by a number of specialist firms. Welte instruments were installed in homes, palaces, schools, department stores and one was apparently even in a luxurious “house of pleasure” (the Atlantic Garden orchestrion). Apart from Europe and the USA, Welte’s market is known to have extended to Turkey, Russia, China and Sumatra. The Sumatran instrument was broken up and lost in 1985.
Around 1926 Welte began to be threatened by a rapidly growing radio and recording industry. Business declined so much that in 1932 the firm only narrowly escaped bankruptcy. At this time they were also engaged in a collaboration with the Telefunken Company involving the development of electronic organs, using analog sampling, glass plates and photo-cells. It was a prophetic development for that time. The collaboration had to be terminated because Edwin Welte’s first wife, Betty Dreyfuss, was Jewish. Had Welte been successful, they might well have eliminated the Hammond organ from the pages of history.
World War II finally precipitated the total demise of the firm. Apart from being blacklisted by the Nazis, the Freiburg premises—all but a few scraps of stock, instruments and historical documents—were annihilated by Allied bombing in November 1944. The ruined Welte factory was something of a landmark next to the Freiburg railway station until the mid-1950s. No trace of it remains today—a housing estate replaced it.

Time lines

1902–3
Olympic and Titanic were first planned. Orchestrions and other mechanical musical instruments had long been available.

1908
December 16: Olympic’s keel was laid.

1909
Welte’s first Philharmonie recording organ was built in their Freiburg studios.
March 31: Titanic’s keel was laid.

1910
October 20: Olympic was launched.

1911
May 31: Titanic was launched; Olympic was delivered to the White Star Line.
November: the Philharmonie was publicly demonstrated at the Turin exhibition and the company’s order book opened.
November 30: Britannic’s keel was laid.

1912
April 1: Titanic’s trials first were scheduled.
April 15: Titanic’s sinking.
Work ceased on Britannic pending the Titanic inquiry, after which some changes to design were made, mainly safety items.
Welte first made their Philharmonie available in a range of specific models.

1913
Welte consolidated their organ designs, including modifications to their 1909 Freiburg recording organ, possibly on advice from Edwin Lemare (Kurt Binninger, 1987). Variant models became available in the same year, including the largest, as represented by the Seewen instrument, whose specification well matches the Freiburg recording organ of 1909. Manufacture began in earnest. This gave ample time to build Britannic’s organ. Since work on the ship was delayed, even more time became available.

1914
February 26: Britannic was launched and her fitting-out begun.
July 28: beginning of World War I.
August: the ship became subject to requisitioning by the Admiralty; work was again “slowed.”

1915
May: mooring trials were undertaken; Britannic was on standby for military service.
November 13: Britannic was officially requisitioned as a hospital ship and fitted out accordingly.
December 11: Britannic sailed to England and entered service on the 23rd.

1916
November 21: Britannic hit a German mine and sank off the Greek island of Kea (Tzia) in the Aegean Sea.

The Seewen Britannic organ
Until recently it was unclear exactly when the organ now preserved at the Museum für Musikautomaten was originally built. The museum contains a major collection dedicated to mechanical musical instruments and musical automata, and is located at Seewen, Switzerland (http://www.landesmuseen.ch/e/seewen/index.php). 1912–1920 were the considered limits since such instruments had only just come out of their development stages in 1912, and the Seewen instrument was definitely known to have existed by 1920. Internal evidence such as specification, roll formats, pipe construction, comparison with similar instruments and known availability led us to moot a dating of about 1913 as most likely.
It is a variant of Welte’s “Grundmodell V–VI,” having a two-manual and pedal console with stop tabs and a roll-mechanism for automatic playing. From 1920 it is well documented. However, signposts to its pre-1920 history turned up in the course of restoration work during March 2007. In cleaning some normally unseen wooden beams around the original windchests, the word “Britanik” was found inscribed in four places. By late May 2007, more inscriptions were found, bringing the total to six.
The console is not, or not completely, original. An earlier console would naturally have been modified or even replaced in 1920 or 1937 when the organ was slightly enlarged. The present console, however, gives the impression of having re-utilized at least some of the earlier components.

Organs aboard ships
During the mid-19th century, beginning with calliopes, keyboard musical instruments increasingly came to be featured on the river boats, yachts and ocean liners of Europe and North America. Jules Verne’s 1869–70 novel Twenty Thousand Leagues under the Sea contains a reference to Captain Nemo playing a pipe organ installed on his ship Nautilus. From fiction to fact took a little time. Harmoniums and grand pianos were featured in such vessels as the Cunard line’s Campania and Lucania (both 1893). Campania even had false pipes arranged, as was sometimes the custom with harmoniums, to make it look like a pipe organ. The race for luxurious on-board musical entertainment was gradually intensified. It became a serious pursuit in the greatest luxury liners of the early 20th century. In their catalogue of c1913–14, Welte identified and illustrated a number of piano and organ installations, including player pianos such as the Welte-Mignon, aboard yachts and ships. Their New York branch installed at least one orchestrion, “operated by electric motor,” aboard the Pocahontas, an American river boat.
But the largest of ships’ organs was destined to be the Britannic’s organ. Others, mainly on vessels of the White Star Line or Lloyds, but including some private yachts such as Howard Gould’s steam yacht, “Niagara,” which also featured a Philharmonie, are well chronicled in these catalogues. The Aeolian company was also involved in ships’ organs. Documents exist showing that the Britannic was originally intended to have a player organ from Aeolian.
Of the White Star Line’s three great “Olympic” class ships—Olympic, Titanic and Britannic—there is neither evidence nor suggestion that Olympic ever had an organ. With the later ships, however, there are different stories to be told.

Titanic
On-board entertainment was an important item in the inventory of luxuries aboard these ocean liners. Titanic had no less than four uprights and one grand piano. In the light of this, oft-repeated suggestions that “an organ” was planned, built, or even installed aboard Titanic, cannot be ignored. There are said to be survivors’ reports of an organ that “played” (Internet Site 1—see below). The detail is vague and the report is seriously questioned. If it has any credibility at all, then we might extract from it that “played” might suggest an orchestrion aboard. It does not discredit other reports, although a second instrument aboard is highly unlikely and has never been suggested. If an organ was installed, then it now lies with the wreck and all claims of a surviving instrument “built too late” are completely errant.
There is an interesting consistency in perpetuation of a belief that the Titanic’s organ was not completed in time for the voyage. A number of collections in North America and Europe possess orchestrions claimed to be “built too late to share the ship’s fate.” Certainly, if there is any element of truth in this, then it was probably an orchestrion. These were available for decades before Titanic was conceived. The Deutsches Musikautomatenmuseum at Bruchsal in Germany has one. It is sometimes claimed that an undated letter from Ilse Bockisch (widow of Karl, his second wife, married in 1932) associates it with Titanic. The letter leaves many unanswered questions.
Suggestions have been made (Internet Site 1) that a Philharmonie was originally intended for Titanic. Welte’s Philharmonie was not offered for sale until some eight months after Titanic’s launching. A specific model was further out of the question until immediately prior to Titanic’s sea trials. The idea that Welte catalogue illustrations (see later) were of a Philharmonie organ aboard Titanic is thus ruled out by the time lines. The earliest known illustration is from 1913–14, well after Titanic’s sinking. If there is any credibility at all here, then the only possibility was an installation after the maiden voyage.
Most evidence points against an organ or orchestrion ever belonging to Titanic. Expert researchers, such as Günter Bäbler and Mark Chirnside, have looked into this matter exhaustively. Both are emphatically of that opinion.

Britannic
By contrast, evidence for an organ intended for Britannic is overwhelming. There is an interesting existing reference to an Aeolian organ with two chests for music rolls in the Britannic’s specification book. There is no evidence that these plans ever proceeded. Illustrations in Welte’s catalogues are renderings that are so accurate that they appear to be or have been made from photographs. The firm variously identifies them as “Welte-Philharmonie aboard a large English steam ship” and “Welte-Philharmonie aboard S. S. Britannic.” Surviving architects’ sketches, now preserved in the Ulster Folk and Transport Museum, show exactly the same organ case in the stairwell area of Britannic. The ship’s plans allocate this space as “ORGAN.” Seewen’s organ has “Britanik” inscribed in at least six places.
The dimensions of the original Seewen organ have been carefully checked against the ship’s plans. It fits exactly into the space allocated.

Time and space considerations
What was possible? Plans survive for all three ships showing their main stairwell areas. These are virtually identical, except that on Britannic a rectangular space identified with the word “ORGAN” was added, jutting out into the stair area. Any of these three ships could easily have had this modification, but only plans for Britannic include it. A Philharmonie Grundmodell V–VI could have fitted into this space on any of them.
Orchestrions generally take little more ground space than an upright piano. They typically had about 260 pipes, whereas a Philharmonie V–VI could have over 2,000 pipes. Orchestrions and salon organs the size of Bruchsal’s (and the other Titanic claimants seem to be of commensurate size) could have been placed almost anywhere aboard these ships. These would not have required identification in architects’ plans; detailed accommodation plans show nothing of this kind.
Even assuming for a moment that the reports of a Welte Titanic organ were true, which organ was too late? Certainly not one of their mass-produced instruments. Orchestrions, having been in production for years, should either have been in stock or available on very short notice. This meant that delivery of such a salon organ should have been easily achievable. It could not be entirely ruled out that delays in development of the Philharmonie might be the issue here. For what it is worth, Ilse Bockisch’s letter describes a failed attempt to deliver “an organ” to Titanic at Southampton. Her letter leaves open too many questions to be trusted as a basis for firm conclusions in this context.
We must conclude that Jules Verne’s idea was best going to be realized with Britannic.

Discussion points
A Welte catalogue of around 1914 has an illustration captioned “Welte-Philharmonie-Orgel an Bord eines grossen engl.[ischen] Dampfers” (“Welte-Philharmonie aboard a large English steamer”). The vessel is not identified by name. The illustration is very lifelike, although some background detail differs from the known architecture of the ship. Another Welte catalogue from about this time reproduces this but now unequivocally identifies it as “WELTE-PHILHARMONIE-ORGEL auf S. S. Britannic der White Star Line” (“Welte-Philharmonie on the White Star Line’s steam ship Britannic”). (See page 26.) The architect’s sketch in the Ulster Folk and Transport Museum and the Welte illustrations show identical organ casework. These all clearly identify ship, organ, size and placement. They show the casework fully in place. Both captions expressly state that the organ was “aboard.” This suggests its presence behind the case. Since a responsible and proud firm repeated this in at least two catalogues, it can leave no doubt that the organ was a Philharmonie and that it probably was installed. No final proof either way is yet to hand.
Time lines easily allow this. By February 1914 there was ample time to build and transport the organ. By the end of July there was also time to install and remove it. The illustrations appear to have been the property of Welte themselves, so all evidence points to the instrument being at least in preparation for, or process of, installation by summer 1914.
The two-story space near the stairs offered ideal dimensions for an organ the original size of Seewen’s. Britannic’s Philharmonie could easily have been finished in Freiburg by late 1913 and moved to Belfast, arriving sometime between March and July 1914. We do not know whether the main staircase was installed before then. The portrayed roll player hints at a console and possibly the wind apparatus being located underneath, with windchests and pipes on top. The apparent width of the roll in the illustration lines up well with the dimensions of Welte’s Philharmonie V–VI rolls: the paper was 390mm wide and there were flanges on either side.
Welte may well have used a hybrid pneumatic-electric action. The company is reported (Binninger 1987) to have used electric actions in “larger organs” and “where consoles were detached.” Welte had developed electro-pneumatic actions as early as 1885, one of the first firms ever to master this technology. Arguments in favor of a fully pneumatic original action also exist. The two main manuals of the almost contemporary three-manual organ at Tunbridge Wells (see Appendix) are pneumatic. Although it is unclear until 1937, the Seewen organ does appear to have always had a hybrid action. Experts such as Peter Hagmann fully acknowledge this possibility and, having searched, can find nothing to disprove it.
Another photograph, from 1916, shows Britannic fitted out for wartime service. Explanations accompanying this photograph refer to a very basic state of furnishing—just white-painted metallic walls. Woodwork from the stairwell later appeared as collectors’ items. Stored items from the ship were publicly auctioned in Belfast in 1919, and many are still preserved in private ownership. This indicates that the internal outfitting of the ship was probably advancing at the time that possible requisitioning became an issue during August 1914.
Although the Welte catalogues show the roll-playing mechanism, no keyboard is apparent. This might lead to a belief that this instrument was a large orchestrion. However, Welte calls it a Philharmonie. This specifically meant that it had a keyboard. The ship’s plans unequivocally identify its space as “organ.” It is instructive to compare the design with the Welte-Philharmonie at the Salomons Centre, Tunbridge Wells, England. This has pipes above and console below, flanked by pillars. The console is on the inside, screened off from the auditor. It is exactly the arrangement with Welte’s organ for Britannic, only decorative details differ and the specifications are very similar.

Installation aboard Britannic 1914
The overall period during which the organ could logically have been installed was February 26 to late summer 1914. This is far more time than an installation would have required. Britannic’s final requisitioning theoretically allowed until November 1915 for de-installation, although Welte staff could hardly have remained or returned then. We do not yet know if anybody from Welte was in Belfast, so we simply cannot say if installation was proceeding or completed before late July 1914. Welte’s illustrations and captions prima facie support the notion that it was.
If Karl Bockisch was in Ireland for the installation, then he may have had to return quickly to Germany with the imminent outbreak of war. Edwin Welte was pursuing an extremely busy traveling schedule, especially across the Atlantic, although he was known to be “in England” (which could include Northern Ireland) at about this time. In 2005 some missing documentation that might clarify the firm’s travel arrangements came into the possession of Gerhard Dangel of the Augustiner Museum, Freiburg, but it has so far proven inconclusive. There is evidence that the Welte family traveled on the German steamer, the Kronprinzessin Cecilie, in September 1912 (this ship also had a Welte-Mignon piano aboard), but no records have yet been found clarifying the movements of Welte employees. Since they were quite itinerant, we must assume these records are now missing. Further clarification as to whether Bockisch or his team were ever in Ireland seems now dependent on finding something of this kind or from dives to the wreck planned for 2008.
Welte staff would rapidly have found themselves behind enemy lines by July 28, 1914. The inscriptions “Britanik” and “Salomoons” in the Salomons Centre organ at Tunbridge Wells make it clear that Welte identified their clients and organs in this way, a practice already established for their pianos and pneumatic roll player devices.

1917–19
There is a lack of surviving documentation that might indicate the fate of the organ between 1914 and 1919. Since Britannic sank in 1916, the organ could not be returned to her. After the war, in the natural course of events, ownership and other details had to be sorted out. White Star Line—no doubt in some disarray with the loss of two of its three most prestigious ships—had no further use for it. So the instrument (with or without casework) would have been available for sale, presumably around 1919, allowing for decisions, communications and paperwork (and possibly transportation back from Belfast).
There were negotiations between shipping company, state and insurance brokers that lasted until 1919 when final damages were paid and an auction of remaining items took place. The organ, being a part of this, would not have been available for sale until all was finalized. It probably elucidates the timing of its sale in 1920. As far as we can currently ascertain the organ was not mentioned in the inventory of items for auction in Belfast mid-1919. A Steinway piano thought to have been lost with the ship, was found after government compensation for the ship’s loss had been agreed in 1917. It was then offered for sale “as Admiralty property,” after which all traces of it disappear. An organ would have been even more obvious. We can only assume that the organ was not part of the compensation negotiations and therefore was either still or once again in Welte’s possession in Freiburg in 1919.

From 1920 onwards
Around 1920, an organ was sold by Welte to Dr. August Nagel (1882–1943) for his residence. Nagel began a highly successful camera manufacturing business in 1908 that later became the “Contessa” brand. He was a great music lover and lived in a magnificent villa in Stuttgart. In 1926 his business went to the Zeiss-Ikon concern. In 1928, he founded another camera manufacturing company that flourished in spite of hard times. This was taken over by Kodak in 1932. No photographs have yet been located of the instrument in Nagel’s possession. Indeed, the apparent absence of even one photograph of this organ is curious for a camera manufacturer: one reason could be that the organ simply was not visible and had no casework to photograph (see later). It seems that the new owner had two small supplementary windchests built to accommodate some additional stops.
Nagel returned the organ to Welte in 1935 for reasons that are now unclear. In 1937, after work on it in their Freiburg workshop, Welte sold it on to Dr. Eugen Kersting (1888–1958), owner of “Radium GmbH,” an electrical manufacturer. Werner Bosch (1916–92), German organ builder, worked on it as a young employee of Welte’s at the time. It was installed in the Radium Company’s Concert and Meeting Hall in Wipperfürth, Germany. Changes were made at Kersting’s request—mainly two reed ranks added and some interesting but small concessions made to organ reform movement principles. Once again modifications to suit a client were a normal part of Welte’s operation. The original Wienerflöte was replaced by a Harmonieflöte (also by Welte), and somewhat miraculously all pipes of both stops have survived. The Wienerflöte can now be returned to its proper (and original “Britannic”) configuration. There was again no sign of earlier original casework: a simple but elegant wooden grille appeared in Wipperfürth.
Towards the end of World War II, in 1945, water damage occurred as a result of bombing. The instrument survived this quite well and was offered for sale through Werner Bosch during the 1960s. No buyers were forthcoming. In 1961 it was used to make an important LP recording, issued in English-speaking circles as Reger plays Reger. The organ was selected as the best available for this purpose, having a specification capable of closely reproducing organists’ registrations on the original Freiburg recording organ.
By 1969, after the meeting room had been turned into a storeroom and the organ had become an encumbrance, it was to be sold for scrap. Heinrich Weiss-Stauffacher (*1920), who owned a collection of automatic musical instruments that later formed the basis of the Seewen collection, was informed. He acquired the organ at the last minute and, in somewhat dramatic circumstances, packed and moved it carefully to its present home. There, after renovation, its re-inauguration was celebrated on May 30, 1970.
During its removal to Switzerland, Bosch’s experience was critical in ensuring its preservation and proper functioning. He and Basel organ builder Bernhard Fleig helped Weiss with the re-installation and subsequently also its maintenance. Apart from normal wear and tear, the organ has remained in good original condition, with few losses or changes.

The restoration
Years of investigation into these instruments (and submissions from experts and organ builders) began in 1998 with the Seewen organ’s removal and storage while the museum prepared for extensions. These created much needed additional space, partly to properly accommodate and display the organ.
The restoration contract was awarded to Orgelbau Kuhn, Männedorf, in 2006. In early 2007, in the course of restoration, the “Britanik” inscriptions began to show up around the original windchests. The beams were carefully checked to see if they might have belonged to another organ. However, all experts—two highly experienced organ builders, the museum director, its conservator and the organ consultant—independently concluded that the beams and the organ were part of the same original instrument.
Very few relevant Harland and Wolff (shipbuilders of Belfast, Ireland) and essentially no Welte records have survived. However, all evidence overwhelmingly points to the Britannic and Seewen organs being one and the same instrument, little changed in its 90 years of existence. The Britannic’s pipework, windchests, console and possibly the action are all either fully original or have been only slightly modified, overwhelmingly by Welte themselves. The organ’s 1920 and 1937 forms are fully valid Welte configurations, developed out of their Grundmodell V–VI. In the few cases of missing or damaged pipework, replacement has been arranged with surviving original Welte pipework or pipes carefully reconstructed to the firm’s manufacturing methods and standards.
The Seewen/Britannic organ is today probably the most typical, intact and best preserved of its size and kind. So far as is currently known, there is only one other Philharmonie of comparable size, Freiburg manufacture and with tonal resources capable of doing justice to the full-sized rolls (Tunbridge Wells, see Appendix below). The collection of rolls at Seewen—nearly 1,300 of them—is well in excess of any other existing collection currently known.

The fate of the organ’s original casework
Welte’s case designs are not noted for standardization, although stylistically they are mostly consistent with their epoch. Cases and organs are sometimes sold separately. No surviving organs or photos show other Welte instruments with casework in the style of Britannic’s.
Welte also specialized in installations in basements, attics and “adjacent rooms,” the organs speaking through holes in walls or floors. This may well have been the reality with Nagel’s residence and might explain a lot in this connection—e.g., the suitability of an organ on offer without a case and the absence of case photographs. Since the Philharmonie was totally enclosed in a swell-box, façade pipes, where they existed, were always “dummies.”
Was the casework removed with the refit to a hospital ship? The photo of the bare-walled area can but indirectly suggest that it was not there. Simon Mills’s Britannic Foundation, now owners of the wreck, believe that whatever was installed—probably not much—was simply covered up and left in place. Reports of Jacques Cousteau’s divers who went down there in 1976 could point to the organ case still being present. They identified “an organ” and reported “metal organ pipes.” The value of these reports has been questioned—indeed the rendering published by Welte in their catalogues hints at wooden pipes or just simple slats of wood, “pipe look-alikes.” If the Cousteau report turns out to be true, then that could hint that the organ was at least partially installed when hostilities began.
An exhibition in Kiel, Germany in mid-2007 reconstructed the Titanic’s stairwell. Given that the three ships’ designs were essentially identical here, it was clear that the organ could be installed or removed with its façade in place. Being a totally enclosed instrument, the façade was purely decorative. The Britannic Foundation has undertaken more recent dives to the Britannic wreck and is currently planning another for about mid-2008 when currents are favorable. The area where the organ was to be placed will then be very closely investigated.
Effectively, Britannic’s casework has now completely disappeared. It is either, as per the Cousteau hint, barnacle-encrusted some fathoms under the Aegean Sea, or it was destroyed, saved in an unknown location, or broken up for use in other organ façades.

The motor and blower
Speculation of wind-raising using Britannic’s steam power sometimes arises (Internet Site 3). The availability of electric power, and potential evidence of a possibly original blower and electric action argue very strongly against steam. In fact, steam was rarely used as motive power for organ blowing. Even then it was associated more within the period of 1812–85 than the early 20th century.
An old motor and blower has survived with the organ. No dates are evident. The motor is rated at 220 volts DC and was made by Meidinger of Basel. The firm was established in the late 19th century and located not far from Welte in Freiburg. Their records only date back to about the 1960s. From its serial number, we only know that it was certainly made before then. Both motor and blower are being restored as part of the historically conscious approach to the project. It is interesting to observe that it is rated at 220 volts DC and the ship’s electric supply came from four 400 kW steam generators, each providing 100 volts DC. Expert opinion informs us that the voltage difference from running two generators in parallel—sensible electrical engineering with two in parallel and two in series—to provide 200 volts is not critical to the operation of this motor. The organ’s wind supply is designed as a regulated system and virtually never needs the full amount of wind (over-) supplied by the blower. Two experts also independently estimated that the motor itself is “probably early 20th century.” Thus, it is just possible that this motor and/or blower could have come down from the original Britannic installation.
From about 1885, a growing preference for power reticulation using alternating current was beginning to overtake that of direct current. By 1913–1914, AC might normally have been the prime choice for such a motor, but the fact that the ship’s supply was DC must have determined a DC motor. This further supports the possibility that the surviving blowing installation at Seewen could have been that of Britannic.?

Appendix

Seewen and similar known surviving Welte-Philharmonie
player organs
Full 150-note functioning Welte player mechanisms appear to survive in no more than ten organs worldwide. Details are scarce, so only tentative information can be offered as set out below. In the September 2006 issue of Mechanical Music, Durward R. Center published an article entitled “Welte Orchestrions / The Age of Opulence.” In it he reports that only two “fully pneumatic” organs (of an equivalent type to Seewen) still exist. Some of Welte’s organs originally had hybrid pneumatic-electric actions, so the field might be extended slightly in this direction without conflict to the general notion of a “Welte-Philharmonie.” (The term “pneumatic organ” is sometimes used to indicate that a player mechanism was attached; cf. “pneumatic” when used to differentiate action types, e.g., electric, electro-pneumatic, mechanical.) Welte’s Grundmodell V–VI had a basic specification of about 23/II+P (23 stops, two keyboards and pedals). The Freiburg recording organ after 1912–13 was about 28/II+P. A degree of discreet borrowing and extension was normal practice in all of these instruments (and less “discreet” in smaller organs and orchestrions). As far as we are aware, however, of Welte’s full-sized (with 150-note tracker bars) roll-playing organs left in the world today, only about eight seem to be of original Freiburg manufacture.

Seewen
The Seewen basic specification after 1937 is 37/II+P. (With retention of both Harmonieflöte and Wienerflöte, the 2007 specification became 38/II+P). This includes extended and borrowed ranks normal to Welte practice. Stop nomenclature is German; the stop-tabs are uniform and fit comfortably across the top of the keys, although some of the new stops added have been placed out of sequence to the right of the earlier stop-tabs. This suggests that the basic console dates from earlier and was only modified in 1937. A collection of about 1,300 rolls is associated with this organ. Organists include Harry Goss-Custard (150 rolls), Edwin Lemare (87), J. J. Nater (84), Paul Mania (76), Kurt Grosse (58), Alfred Hollins (47), Joseph Bonnet (44), William Wolstenholme (39), Walter Fischer (37), Eugène Gigout (35), Thaddäus Hofmiller (31), Herbert Walton (30), William Faulkes (29), Samuel A. Baldwin (26), Clarence Eddy (20), Karl Matthaei (17), Franz Joseph Breitenbach (16), Alfred Sittard (15), Paul Hindermann (13), Marco Enrico Bossi (12), Max Reger (11), Marie-Joseph Erb (11), Günter Ramin (8), Karl Straube (7), and Marcel Dupré (7), among others.

Tunbridge Wells
Residence of David Salomons, Salomons Centre, Tunbridge Wells, England. This organ also dates from c1913–14 and is virtually a twin to that at Seewen. The basic specification is 27/II+P, pneumatic player, pneumatic action. It has, however, a third manual, an Echo division of five stops (remotely placed with electric action), bringing it to 32/III+P. Extended and borrowed ranks normal to Welte practice also exist here. A most valuable survivor, its basic specification includes the full Philharmonie Grundmodell V–VI stops, with resources that sometimes differ slightly from Seewen’s. Apart from the Echo-division, the percussion accessories in particular show some variance, e.g.,“tubular bells” in place of Seewen’s “Harfe” and “Glocke” registers. The console was required, as per the contract, to be modeled on English systems—pistons rather than fixed combinations, manual compasses reaching to 61 notes instead of 58, stop-knobs rather than rocker-tabs, and the stop nomenclature is entirely English. There is no crescendo pedal. Even so, the general size and layout is remarkably similar to Seewen’s. It plays rolls of two sizes, accepting also the Welte #10 orchestrion rolls, the largest orchestrion rolls Welte ever made, and is apparently the only player for them still functioning. A collection of about 150 full-sized Philharmonie rolls is associated with this organ. See website: <http://www.maesto.com/US/welteinstruments.html&gt;.

Other instruments
• a 25/II+P Welte-Philharmonie, from a collection that belonged to Jens Carlson, is now in the Mechanical Musical Instrument Museum at Elm, Germany (Stiftung Museum mechanischer Musikinstrumente Königslutter am Elm).
• formerly at Linz am Rhein, Germany. Also a smaller Philharmonie organ than Seewen, 21/II+P, recently moved to the USA. This organ was used for an EMI CD recording set issued as 7243 5 74866 2 0. It was built in 1925 for the Villa of Lady Burton of England in Cap de Antibes, southern France. Horst King und Sohn restored it for the Linz Museum in 1984/85. Laukhuff of Weikersheim delivered a purely decorative case for it.
• Siegfrieds Mechanisches Musikkabinett, Rüdesheim, Deutschland. The console has the Freiburg firm’s nameplate attached. Two of Wendel’s publications give “around 1922” as its date of construction. 21/II+P with “Harfe und Glocken.” Currently “partially restored.”
• Deutsches Musikautomatenmuseum at Bruchsal (in the “Welte-Saal.”) As well as the so-called Titanic organ, there is a 20/II+P Welte-Philharmonie dating from 1924 in this collection. See their website: <http://www.landesmuseum.de/website/&gt;.
• The Schloss Meggenhorn instrument near Luzern in Switzerland. 19/II+P (with borrowing and extension) probably built 1915–20. An associated roll collection of 104 items features Max Reger, Karl Matthaei, Eugène Gigout, Marcel Dupré and others. The instrument was restored by Orgelbau Kuhn.
<http://www.orgelbau.ch/site/index.cfm?fuseaction=orgelbau.orgelportrait…;
• Tuxedo Park, New York (also made in the USA), at the Spedden residence. Members of the Spedden family were survivors of the Titanic. The organ is still in its original location. It was recently restored by the Kegg Organ Company. 15/II+P of Freiburg manufacture. Year of manufacture is not known at this stage.

Other, related installations (excluding cinema organs):
• An interesting player organ exists at the former Krupp Residence in Essen, Germany at Villa Hügel (now a museum and concert venue). It began as an American Aeolian organ with 9/II+P. In 1914 an Aeolian player mechanism was added. 1921 and 1928 saw the instrument enlarged to 14 stops by Welte, with one of their player mechanisms substituted for that of Aeolian. It was restored in 2003 by Orgelbau Klais of Bonn. Associated with it is a collection of about 110 usable rolls recorded by Ramin, Straube, Sittard, Mania, Lemare and Reger—a repertoire surveying Bach, Beethoven, Brahms, Chopin, Gluck, Händel, Haydn, Liszt, Mozart, Mendelssohn, Reger, Schubert and Wagner. Five rolls are of popular music. These appear to duplicate many rolls in the Seewen collection, as would be expected, bearing in mind the Welte catalogue marketing system. The Orgelbau Klais website has details: <http://www.orgelbau-klais.com/m.php?tx=52&gt;.
• A Welte player mechanism—also a 150-note tracker bar—was added in 1931 to the Willis organ at Blenheim, England. There appears to be an associated collection of some 80 remaining rolls, said to be by English organists.
• Technik Museum, Speyer, Germany. 36/III+P manufactured in the USA. Dating from 1916, it must have been one of the last instruments, and the largest, built there before Welte’s New York branch in Poughkeepsie was closed down. Renovated in 2001. A collection of over 600 rolls is associated with it. See <http://www.museumspeyer.de/&gt;.
• An organ under restoration (2006) for the Swiss dealer Hanspeter Kyburz by organ-builder Remi Steis of Germany. It is also of U.S. manufacture. It additionally bears a “W. W. Kimball” company reference underneath Welte’s on its nameplate. It is a II+P organ with much extension and borrowing somewhat reminiscent of cinema organ practice.
• A Welte-Philharmonic of nine ranks built pre-1926 in the studio of Barker Bros.’ department store in Los Angeles, then variously in the possession of Anita Baldwin, South Pasadena Masonic Lodge (1930) and Kyle B. Irwin (1999). Apparently of U.S. manufacture with much extension and borrowing. Barker Bros. eventually owned a total of four Weltes.

Acknowledgements
The authors express their gratitude for the many personal telephone, verbal and e-mail communications received. Special mention is made of
Günter Bäbler, Titanic-Verein Schweiz (http://www.titanicverein.ch)
Andrew Baghurst, Adelaide, Australia
Nelson Barden, Boston, USA (http://www.nbarden.com/)
Durward R. Center, Baltimore, USA
Mark Chirnside, Warwickshire, England (www.markchirnside.co.uk)
Gerhard Dangel, Augustiner-Museum Freiburg, Deutschland
Malte Fiebing, Titanic-Verein Deutschland (http://www.titanicverein.de)
Brooke Green, Tasmania
Bernhard Häberle, Gesellschaft für Selbstspielende Musikinstrumente, Germany
Georg Hofmeier and Gesellschaft des Museums für Musikautomaten, Seewen (GMS)
Philipp Klais, Orgelbau Klais, Bonn, Germany
Brett Leighton, Linz, Austria
Ken Marschall (http://www.kenmarschall.com)
Michail Michailakis, Greece
Simon Mills (Britannic Foundation) England (http://www.thebritannicfoundation.org.uk/)
Bernhard Prisi, Seewen, Switzerland
Wolfgang Rehn and Ueli Schärer, Orgelbau Kuhn, Männedorf, Switzerland
Rico A. Reinle, Münchenstein, Switzerland
Elizabeth Rumsey, Basel, Switzerland
Heinrich Weiss and Susanne Weiss, Seewen and Basel, Switzerland
Matthias Wunderlich, Essen, Germany

 

Related Content

Welte’s Philharmonie roll recordings 1910–1928: My afternoons with Eugène Gigout

David Rumsey

David Rumsey studied organ in Australia, Denmark, France and Austria. He rose to a senior lectureship in the Australian university system from 1969–1998, also pursuing an international teaching, concert and consulting career as an organist. He worked in various cross-disciplinary fields, especially linking broadcasting, drama and music, arranging a number of major presentations and seminars. In 1998, after mounting a 14-hour spectacle on the life of Bach with actors in period dress and musicians playing historic instruments, he left Australia and settled around 2000 in Basel, Switzerland, where he continues to work as an organist and consultant.

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    Posterity bestows no laurels upon mimesis. Since the invention of the Welte-Mignon piano and the Welte-Philharmonie organ, this expression has lost its validity for recording musicians. Generations far removed from ours will be able to recognize the masters of our age in their prowess and in the totality of their artistry. By means of technology, impermanence and time have been vanquished, the moment of metaphysical experience has been captured for eternity.

These prophetic words of Montgomery Rufus Karl Siegfried Straube (1873–1950) have never rung truer, although the long road, technological means, and near total loss of all that he was talking about in relation to the Philharmonie, could never have been foreseen—not even by a person of such eloquence, vision and culture as he obviously was. The British do have ways with words, the Germans perhaps more with music. Was it his English mother who lay behind this uncanny ability to express himself so well?
My former teacher in Sydney, Australia, Norman Johnston, used to sagely advise his students: “Always proceed from the known to the unknown.” It was well expressed and has long served as a useful life guide. Norman was a pupil of André Marchal, Marchal in his turn a pupil of Eugène Gigout. Like beauty, musical genealogy is probably mainly in the eye of the beholder, although it has been perpetuated often enough—as in Albert Schweitzer’s biography. It is often associated—as there—with those who want to trace their instructional lineage back to J. S. Bach.
By this token, Gigout is my musical great-grandfather. As a student, I put him into a box labeled “romantic French”. And there he remained for a very long time. It was an accurate enough generalization, but when you spend whole afternoons with him—or his musical ghost—you soon begin to realize that he occupied a rather special place in the romantic French hierarchy. Furthermore, he does not always perform in quite the way a “romantic” tag might lead us to expect.
Until recently I had never heard Gigout play. Hardly surprising: he died 14 years before I was born and made no gramophone records. But now that I am a septuagenarian, some unexpected events have changed all that. With apologies to clairvoyants and occultists, whose hopes will now be dashed, perfectly rational explanations are offered, while Straube’s prophecy is fulfilled.

The Seewen Philharmonie
The advice of my teacher was particularly apt over the past few years, as one of the world’s few remaining full-sized Welte-Philharmonie organs was restored under my supervision. The instrument was originally intended for the ship Britannic and is now the central attraction in the Museum der Musikautomaten at Seewen, Solothurn, Switzerland. Associated with it is a remarkable inventory of roll recordings, most commercially released between 1912 and 1928.
Several stages were needed in this not uncomplicated exercise, each of them representing a transition from the known to the unknown:
• restoring the organ
• dealing with the Britannic connections that were discovered during the restoration
• making the pneumatic roll-player work
• adding computer control
• tweaking the pneumatic roll player, computer and console systems to work optimally together
• scanning the rolls digitally
• developing software to electronically emulate the Welte pneumatic system
• auditioning the scanned and converted roll data played on the organ itself
• making an inventory of the roll collection, who played, what they played, how they played, and the current condition of the rolls.
With such a complex instrument, and old technologies that had slipped well behind the front line for nearly a century, we proceeded from our knowns to our unknowns with a mixture of confidence, trepidation and patience. Fortunately all went well.
But what of the rolls? We knew that playing them back over the Welte tracker bar and pneumatic player was always going to work—with the age-old reservations surrounding these machines and their many vagaries. Yet this, too, was surprisingly easy.

The Welte rolls
So the rolls could be played again pneumatically and the organ played manually—just as always with the Welte Philharmonie (Philharmonic to most of the English-speaking world). Seewen possesses, however, mostly only one roll of each recording. Even with other known collections, there are limited duplicates about in the world. Most original Welte rolls are nearly a century old now and show distinctive signs of being at “5 minutes to midnight.” Even with some potentially available copies, Seewen’s collection can exist nowhere else in the world, for it mainly consists of original “second-master” rolls from which the copies were made. So the physical wear and tear, and real risk of damage, even destruction, from pneumatic machine playing are best avoided whenever possible.
With only around 250 roll titles known to exist in more than one copy at Seewen, we are clearly treading on rather delicate eggshells with all of them. Our answer has been to scan them once with people and machines that treat them kindly, digitize them, preserve the rolls separately, then play them as often as we want from computer files.
So the next unknown became digital scanning and playback. Could we side-step the pneumatic roll-player with complete impunity? The scanning device needed its own custom-written software to produce playable files. The data was then transferred to the organ’s computer, for which more arcane software programs had to be developed. The interface had to operate absolutely non-intrusively with the organ’s playing action, for this was a unique and highly sensitive heritage restoration. There was a rough row to hoe here for a while, dealing with the huge multinomial equations of at least four different roll types, their age, and the weird but wonderful Welte multiplexing system, which might best be described as early 20th-century pneumatic computing. Welte’s technical standards also varied from roll to roll and with the earlier and later developments of their technology.
Success began to arrive by mid-2009. The unknown was relieved by the known. From October of that year for the following six months, a team of three specially trained scanners began the digitizing process. This required “sensitive fingers” to mount and guide the fragile rolls without damage and ensure that the best “geometry” was attained with, ideally, just one pass. By mid-2010 all 1,600 or so rolls had been scanned and digitized, and are thus now preserved in two forms: the original rolls and their digital conversions.
Still there were many unknowns: What was played? Who played? How? Phrasing? Tempo? Registration? Does this unique collection fully validate Karl Straube’s statement above? A Pandora’s box of questions and future research projects was suddenly opened up while myriads of fine historic performance details became available.
The latter represent the performance practices of an entire generation of organists who preceded most of those generally thought to be the first ever to make recordings. In chronologically defined terms: the rare “electrically recorded” 78s, most notably those of Harry Goss-Custard in the mid-1920s, were preceded by effectively no acoustic organ recordings. It was exactly during this period, 1912–1925, that roll-recording was in its heyday.
Welte in particular, among the few firms making recordings at this time, managed to capture the playing of a whole school of 19th-century-trained organists in this important time-window. While they and many other firms made rolls aimed to sell in the “popular” and “transcription” repertoire arenas, Welte stands out for their dedication to recording the great organists and original organ repertoire of their own epoch. This included Harry Goss-Custard, himself, then about 13 years younger than when he recorded his 78s.
The downside to the Welte system may well be the limitations of one organ for all organists and repertoire, and a tricky recording technology and medium, but the upsides are many. For one thing, the playability and intelligibility of most roll recordings is now far better than any disc made before the mid-1940s. Fate has decreed that Seewen is the only Welte Philharmonie left in the world on which we can preserve and play so many of these early roll-recordings, reproducing the original playing and registration, at the highest possible standards allowed by this system.

Playing the rolls digitally
It is late 2010 as this is being written. We are halfway through a survey of the digitized rolls, a process that should be complete by late 2011. The results are very encouraging—about 85% play well on one scan. Inevitably there are some problematic rolls, some that may never play again, some re-scans to do, an odd roll that is wound in reverse (standard practice with Welte’s cinema organ players) or other eventualities, including five marked but not perforated “first-masters”. But the overwhelming majority turned out to play well—and, considering the historical importance of it all, quite breathtakingly so.
There are many advantages to playing rolls digitally. Quick search-and-play of the stored data and no rewinding—with all of that procedure’s dire threat to aging paper—are simple and obvious benefits. Dialogue boxes giving timings or the actual registration being used are extremely useful. The Seewen organ, which knew two main manifestations—1914 and, slightly enlarged, 1920–1937—can also be switched from one form to another, enabling the rolls to be heard as they were recorded, or as Welte themselves pneumatically patched them up to play on a larger organ (specifically this one). Smaller player-organ manifestations are also available.
One of the most important facilities offered is the chance to restore the pedal to the point where the organist originally played it: due to Welte’s multiplexing system, pedal notes were often adjusted by moving them slightly earlier so the pneumatic technology could still work while roll-widths remained manageable. They had valid reasons for this, but digital editing now allows restoration of that aspect of the original performance. Others, including the correction of wrong notes and stops caused by holes or tears from years of damage to or decay of the paper, are also possible.
The computer in the Seewen organ is wired straight to the final windchest magnets, thus playing far more accurately and precisely than passing the whole process through paper and pneumatic systems with all their vagaries and notorious technological temperaments. That includes roll slippage or sticking, and worn, underpowered motors, to say nothing of arch-enemies such as dust, air leakage or damaged, corroding lead tubing. Another big plus for digital playback is that repeated playings do not create more wear and tear on rolls. Tear can all too literally be what happens. Simply rewinding a roll can be an act of vandalism against a unique surviving historic performance—the rewind moves at some speed and shredding is a better description than tearing when it happens.
Many rolls are no longer reliably playable pneumatically, and this situation must inevitably deteriorate further with time. So it was not a moment too soon to digitize them. In fact, both rolls and digitized scans are now the targets of careful preservation under the impenetrable vaults of this impressively-built museum (was “Fort Knox” more prototype than legend?).

Restoration
We were lucky. For such a sensitive heritage restoration, it was a relief that Welte themselves had built or converted its action to electric back in early 20th century. Had this not already been done, computer playback could have been unthinkable now. The consequences would have been pneumatic playing only, maybe only 50% of the rolls functioning properly, and a destructive process repeated for each playing. Further deterioration, with time running on its legendary wings—and no effective means of correction for rolls not running perfectly true—would have been our rather anguished lot.
The happy confluence of musical and computer skills found in Daniel Debrunner not only saw to the computer control of the organ’s action, but also developed the roll-scanner and necessary software to convert the rolls into digital formats. A collaboration now exists with a number of partners in a research program called Wie von Geisterhand, which, in late 2010, was awarded another Swiss Federal Government grant to continue through 2011 and 2012.
The museum under Christoph
Haenggi’s direction, Daniel Debrunner, and I are among the Swiss and international partners in the Geisterhand team. Now that all rolls are scanned, we have set about auditioning them on the organ. Sure, Gigout can be heard playing his own Toccata, Communion, and Festival March on the Welte formerly in Linz-am-Rhein (EMI 5CD set 7243 5 74866 2 0 CD 2); but that organ is a much smaller model than the Welte recording organ was. Seewen’s full-sized Philharmonie has all the stops Gigout used. Important aspects of the registration can be compromised on the smaller models where, for example, some foundation stops on one manual are typically borrowed from another, or the pedal Posaune 16′ “pneumatically patched” to a Bourdon 16′—just not the same thing. The currently available CD-recorded repertoire is in any case minuscule compared to Seewen’s holdings.

Cataloguing the Welte recordings
At present rates it will probably take until late 2011 to complete the auditioning process and finalize a comprehensive database. We are also slowly incorporating whatever further information we can glean about the total Welte organ roll production and its current whereabouts around the globe. So far we have over 3,600 entries representing over 2,600 known rolls and those mentioned in Welte catalogues. This gives over 1,600 separate titles.
Already a wonderland of historic recordings has turned up. The relatively short playing times of 78s (at best about 41⁄2 minutes) compared poorly to over 23 minutes available from rolls. The roll performances are without surface noise, demand no interruptions to “change sides”, and are in the most perfect “hi-fi stereo”.
Actually, we could say this process goes one step further: it nudges up towards “live” performance. Those who have experienced roll recordings frequently report the feeling that the artist is present, actually playing. An anecdote relates that admirers of Busoni’s once played a Welte-Mignon recording of his at his home while his widow was in the next room. The accuracy of reproduction was so true that she burst in, eyes full of tears, calling out “Ferruccio, Ferruccio!” Wie von Geisterhand (“as if by the hand of a ghost”) is a most relevant project name.

The Great Playback
Our computer technology began to reach maturity in the second half of 2009. In October 2009 the systematic scanning process commenced in the Seewen Museum’s library, which was specially re-equipped for this task. Then, from November, we could launch the long program of auditioning the scanned rolls. Tweaking it all has continued through 2010. In general, we took the rolls in the sequence of their Welte catalogue numbers. This led to some observations of the firm’s “commercial logic” in its rarified market: many of the earliest Philharmonie rolls are recuts from orchestrion or piano rolls, modified to make them play on an organ with 150 holes in its tracker bar. Many were punched by hand: most impressive at Seewen are the long operatic, orchestral, and symphonic excerpts—including entire Beethoven symphonies and lengthy Wagner or Verdi opera potpourris—mostly hand-punched, often on rolls of around 15 minutes’ duration.
The sociology of this is a study in itself, but clearly, as with the British “Town Hall Organ” culture, Welte and its organists had to “entertain”. There was great public demand to hear operatic and symphonic music, but a notable lack of orchestras around to play it, especially aboard ships.
The auditioning of the roll-scans fell into my lap almost too naturally. There was a curious life-flashback here—history sometimes repeats itself in wondrous ways and without warning. When I was about eight years old, somebody disposed of an old acoustic wind-up gramophone in our backyard. This may have been thoughtless for the precinct, but it was kind to me. A vast collection of 78s was dumped alongside this machine. In the glorious outdoors of sunny suburban Sydney, I would play these recordings over and over. My great favorite was Wagner. Hapless neighbors were serenaded with unsolicited afternoons of Valkyries, Nibelungen and Flying Dutchmen. The complaints were legion. My skin was thick.
In late 2009—some 62 years later—I found myself listening to precisely this repertoire once again, but at Seewen. At least it was indoors this time—winter in Switzerland by contrast to summer in Sydney. Nobody was seriously disturbed, and the museum staff’s love or hatred of Wagner expanded or contracted commensurately according to their predispositions to this music. A subtle, inoffensive art of opening and closing the doors on me in Seewen’s “Hall of Auditory Arts,” where the organ is located, was tactfully developed. Or is that a residual “Wagner social conscience” now returning to make me utterly paranoid?
An amazing mastery of musical expression is found in the manually punched performances. All manner of nuances were reproduced—crescendi, sforzati, tremolandi, rallentandi, rubati, “orchestral” registrations—all fully expressive and highly convincing. One would scarcely guess that so many of them were laboriously drilled out by technicians rather than played by first-rate musicians. In fact, these technicians were consummate artists themselves, sometimes trained organists in their own right. They knew their repertoire and the performance paradigms of their day exactly, and had the skills and capacity to precisely build them into these rolls. All of this was through the medium of millions upon millions of tiny holes punched into paper. Yet there was nothing particularly new in this—in another lineage from Père Engrammelle through Dom Bédos de Celles, skills had already passed on to musical barrel-makers telling them how to make “mechanical” music expressive in the 18th century. And there had then been a 19th-century-long gestation of this art, through the orchestrion’s heyday, before Michael Welte and his crew applied their skills to Wagner, Brahms and Beethoven for their Philharmonie.
Such transcriptions were not only a much-favored repertoire of the Welte era, but are also one of the musical genres that the Philharmonie was truly “born to play”. In discussions of lost Beethoven traditions around World War I, these rolls at Seewen must have their part to play: they were created by people steeped in these traditions. They also knew their Verdi and Wagner.
Cinema organ music, light classics, and even hymns were also recorded. We have German chorales played by German organists or English hymns played by Harry Goss-Custard in what must have been the Berlin or Liverpool Cathedral traditions of the time. The variety of information that is stored on these rolls is truly breathtaking.

So: what is there?
Seewen is the inheritor of the largest ship’s organ ever built and the most important single collection of roll recordings by fully romantic-tradition organists. Listed here chronologically according to their birth years are just 29 of Welte’s organists—about one-third of the total:

1842–1912 Carl Hofner
1842–1929 Johann Diebold
1844–1925 Eugène Gigout
1851–1937 Clarence Eddy
1853–1934 Franz Joseph Breitenbach
1858–1944 Marie-Joseph Erb
1861–1925 Marco Enrico Bossi
1862–1949 Samuel Atkinson Baldwin
1863–1933 William Faulkes
1865–1931 William Wolstenholme
1865–1934 Edwin Henry Lemare
1865–1942 Alfred Hollins
1868–1925 Paul Hindermann
1869–1929 Herbert Francis Raine Walton
1871–1964 Walter Henry (Harry) Goss-Custard
1872–1931 Walter Fischer
1873–1916 Max Reger
1873–1950 Karl Straube
1877–1956 Reginald Goss-Custard
1878–1942 Alfred Sittard
1878–? J(ohann?) J(akob?) Nater
1882–1938 Paul Mania
1884–1944 Joseph Elie Georges Marie Bonnet
1886–1971 Marcel Dupré
1890–? Kurt Grosse
1893–1969 Joseph Messner
1897–1960 Karl Matthaei
1898–1956 Günter Ramin
fl. 20thc “Thaddä” Hofmiller

Apart from the slightly special cases of Carl Hofner and Johann Diebold, the next earliest-born of Welte’s organists was French: Eugène Gigout. Born in 1844, he was educated directly in his country’s great 19th-century traditions of playing, which he himself helped to create and consolidate.
Judging by evidence on the rolls, the Freiburg recordings were made at least in early 1911. But 1910 must be more likely, since a preview of the Philharmonie was presented to the Leipzig Spring Fair in 1911. The final development—with order books then opened—was at the Turin Exhibition of November that same year. Most rolls were then made and released 1912–26, neatly covering the period up to electrical recording, and briefly overlapping it. During World War I, there was a dramatic reduction in factory output, and after 1926 productivity again slowly tapered off as entertainment changed focus to other media—radio, 78s. Roll production later dribbled away to special wartime releases, re-releases or late releases of earlier recordings. The last recording year found so far is 1938 (Binninger playing Böhm on W2244).
Surveying it all, we get an impression of several waves of players fully immersed in their own traditions, with birth dates—and thus, broadly, traditions of playing—covering a span of over 50 years. From England, the USA, Italy, France, Germany, Switzerland, and Austria, these organists were considered among the best available from anywhere in the early 20th century. While the list above tells many interesting stories, it is primarily a roll-call of Welte-preferred leading organists selected from about 1910 onwards. Others may have been asked and did not record for one reason or another. Those who did record were ones that Welte saw as potentially “best-selling” artists. Let us make no mistake about it: this was a highly commercial enterprise.

Italy: Bossi
Welte’s Italian connection was uniquely through Marco Enrico Bossi. He was the first organist ever to officially record for them (July 1912). Perhaps the link was made when Welte exhibited their prototype Philharmonie at the Turin exhibition of November 1911? Bossi’s son—also a German-trained organist—had just conducted an orchestral concert there in October. The original organ works that Marco Enrico plays are Bach’s Prelude and Fugue in D Minor (BWV 539), Dubois’ In Paradisum, and Franck’s Cantabile. Transcriptions include Henselt’s Ave Maria, op. 5 (arranged by Bossi), Handel’s Organ Concerto No. 10 (second and third movements), and a Schumann March (arranged by Guilmant). The Chopin Funeral March, Debussy’s “Girl with the flaxen hair,” and Haydn’s “Ah! vieni, Flora” (from Quattro Stagioni/Four Seasons) were also recorded—the arrangers are unidentified, but quite possibly Bossi.
Most importantly, he recorded four of his own pieces: Hora mystica, Folksong from Ath, Fatemi la grazia and Noël, op. 94, no. 2. (The titles of pieces given here reflect the Welte catalogue with its sometimes quaint, often inaccurate presentation—where needed they are corrected.)
Bossi’s playing is notable in many ways; for example, the detachment of pedal notes in the Handel, giving the effect of a double-bass playing spiccato. Notable also is his tendency to arpeggiate some cadential chords and detach in counterpoint—an almost constant marcato broken by rarer moments of “targeted legato” in BWV 539 (cf. Hofner and Gigout later: same generation, same idea?). He was clearly a powerful interpreter. Most notable is Fatemi la grazia, which has an entirely variant ending to that in his printed edition. Other organists—his contemporaries—also play works of Bossi on Seewen’s rolls.
A major article by Nicola Cittadin on this topic is soon to be published in an Italian organ journal.

France: Gigout, Bonnet, Dupré, Erb
The French 19th and early 20th century school accounts for four Welte organists. Their training is an interesting chapter: Gigout was principally taught by Saint-Saëns, Bonnet by Guilmant and Vierne, and Dupré by Guilmant, Widor, and Vierne. The Benoist-Saint-Saëns-Gigout and Lemmens-Guilmant-Widor lineages are indeed musical genealogies of significance here.
The other, Erb, was an interesting choice. He was Alsatian; when he was in his early teens, his country became annexed to Germany. The proximity of Straßburg to Welte’s base in Freiburg is noted. The repertoire he plays is interestingly mixed, although the French school is clearly important and predominates.
Ernst/Bach (G-major concerto)
Vivaldi/Bach (Adagio from the A-minor concerto)
Guilmant (Invocation in B-flat Major; Funeral March & Hymn of Seraphs, op. 17; Melodie, op. 45; Grand Choeur in D Major, op. 18; Elevation, op. 25)
Franck (Pastorale, op. 18, no. 4)
Three arrangements/transcriptions: Mendelssohn (A Midsummer Night’s Dream—Wedding March), Debussy (Prélude de l’enfant Prodigué) and Wagner (Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg—Walther’s Preislied).
The freedoms Erb takes are sometimes little short of astonishing by today’s measure, perhaps even questionable—not least in the Franck Pastorale. His playing constantly fringes on what we might now define as poor, including rhythmic oddities and wrong notes. Yet, hear him through, and the lingering impression is that you have at least learned something. It is too easy to spring to quick judgements here—we are seeking a full understanding of a quite different era. Erb’s playing does not conform to what is generally acceptable today, but it at least changes perspectives and questions our paradigms in this digitally edited, “technically perfect performance” era.
Dupré was later to be one of the very few of Welte’s organists well-represented through gramophone recordings. His earlier roll recordings offer important supplementation and enhancements. An Improvisation on a Theme of Schubert (#2047) is of particular note in this connection. It seems to be a hitherto unknown recorded improvisation. Only two copies of the roll are currently known to exist. Both are in Switzerland: one is at the Barnabé Theatre Servion near Thun, the other at Schloss Meggenhorn, near Lucerne. That from Barnabé has been digitized at Seewen and plays well. It is at any rate skilled and entertaining extemporization, well demonstrating his talents when he was around 40, a most useful and important addition to the surviving Dupré heritage.

North America: Eddy, Baldwin (Lemare, Bonnet)
The North American contingent is represented by no lesser personages than Clarence Eddy and Samuel Atkinson Baldwin, with club membership extended fully to Edwin Lemare and partially to Joseph Bonnet. Eddy recorded Clérambault and Couperin, then on through Liszt, Mendelssohn, Saint-Saëns, Bossi, Buck, and Faulkes. Also German-educated at the right time and place for it, Eddy plays the Reger Pastorale in a notably fine interpretation. Transcriptions of Wagner (Bridal Chorus from Lohengrin; Prelude to Lohengrin, Pilgrim’s chorus from Tannhäuser, Isolde’s Liebestod) and one of his own works (“Old 100th” Festival Prelude and Fugue) complete the bigger picture, not to forget his inclusion of From the Land of the Sky-Blue Water by Charles Wakefield Cadman (catalogued confusingly as Wakefield-Gudmann From the land of the sky-blue).
Eddy’s compatriot, Samuel Baldwin, leaves over 20 rolls, including Buck’s Concert Variations on the Star Spangled Banner, op. 23, and Guilmant’s Sonata in D Minor, op. 42 (complete, on 2 rolls).
Eddy and Baldwin are among the most generally significant organists represented here, but Lemare naturally deserves his very special place. The full story of Lemare—luminary in the entertainment tradition—has been well-told by Nelson Barden (The American Organist 1986, vol. 20, nos. 1, 3, 6, 8). Barden has also made CDs of this most extraordinary organist’s rolls. Seewen has almost all of the rolls, including Lemare playing his famous “Moonlight and Roses” (Andantino in D-flat). However, it seems that some additional rolls exist at Seewen that were not available to anybody until recently. They are:
1239*, Dubois, Sylvine
1241*, Mendelssohn, Ruy Blas Overture
1265**, Guilmant, Funeral March & Hymn of the Seraphs
1266*, Lemare, Symphony in D Minor, op. 50: Scherzo
1267*, Lemare, Symphony in D Minor, op. 50: Adagio Patetico
1269*, Wolstenholme, Romance and Allegretto
1270**, Wagner, Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg—Präludium
1274***, Gounod, Queen of Saba (Sheba): March and Cortège
With W1286* (Guilmant, Reverie, op. 70), three sources give J. J. Nater as organist, only one Lemare. At present we are ascribing it to Nater.
* = master roll
** = master roll and at least one copy *** = two master rolls held

The British organists: Faulkes, Wolstenholme, Hollins, Walton, Goss-Custard
The British organists of the “Town Hall Organ” era—not to forget that of the Great Exhibitions—were well-represented in the Welte catalogues: six of them. Along with Lemare, they all reacted to their era’s special need for entertaining organ music. This choice of British organists is not surprising when we consider the firm’s exports to England (Salomons’ and Britannic were probably their first, Harrods and many others followed). Not only are some of the most notable recitalists of the era listed, but they also recorded a proportionately large number of rolls. Harry Goss-Custard was Welte’s most prolific organ recording artist, and their catalogue of his rolls overwhelmingly swamps the lists of his disc recordings. Only one work, Lemmens’ Storm, appears to be duplicated on both roll and disk.
The recordings of Faulkes, Wolstenholme, Hollins, Walton, and both Goss-Custards were no doubt made partly to satisfy this British market with so many wealthy industrialists or shipping magnates. The Salomon Welte at Tunbridge Wells is preserved, recently restored, and is a sister—if not a twin—to the Seewen organ. They are the only two of their kind left in the world today on which Welte Philharmonie rolls can be properly played pneumatically, taking the original recording organ’s specification into account. Tunbridge Wells’ capabilities also extend to play Cottage #10 Orchestrion rolls. Its action remains completely pneumatic except for the remote Echo division, which is, and always was, electric.

Germanic territory: Hofner, Diebold, Ramin, Straube, Grosse, Breitenbach, Hindermann,
Hofmiller, Messner, Matthaei

German, Austrian, and Swiss organists account for about half the performers in the above list, and more are represented in our database. Numerically they occupy the most substantial block of historic talent here—their recordings mainly reveal the highly influential Berlin school of around 1900 (Eddy studied there, too). Leipzig, Freiburg, and Rheinberger’s influence in South Germany are also well represented.
Whatever predilection Welte might have had at the outset to use English talent and make good sales to that country, the First World War put a damper on that, although the firm was sleeping with the enemy by releasing Harry Goss-Custard’s rolls well into and through the time-span of this conflict. But they mainly had to concentrate on organists on their own side of enemy lines in the 1914–18 stretch.
The earliest-born of all these seem to have been Carl Hofner (1842–1912) and Johann Diebold (1842–1929). Hofner was educated in Munich, where the Bach tradition is sometimes said to have persisted longer than anywhere else. He was active as organist and teacher around Freiburg/Breisgau from October 1868. Then, appointed as organist at Freiburg Münster, he commenced duties on January 1, 1871. One temptation is to think that Rheinberger was his teacher in Munich. It is possible. But the teacher would have been a mere three years older than the student, and Rheinberger was only appointed professor in 1867, by which time Hofner had been in Metten for some seven years.
In 1878 Hofner settled in Freiburg. There he taught the Swiss organist and pedagogue Joseph Schildknecht, who later wrote an important Organ Method. Hofner features in early organ roll titles: #716, #717, and #722. Of these, the Bach Praeludium and Fugue in C Minor (BWV 549 on #716) is an impressive performance, varying only slightly from the note-readings of modern editions, exhibiting considerable freedom mingled with strong forward drive, and mixing a predominantly detached style of playing with seemingly carefully selected moments of legato. The relationship of this playing style to Bossi’s and Gigout’s might again be noted. The miscellaneous chorale setting of Herzlich tut mich verlangen is on #717, and an improvisation “on a theme” on #722 (not released until 1926).
Hofner died on May 19, 1912, so it was at the very end of his life and slightly before the otherwise earliest known organ recording activity by Welte with Bossi. Thus Hofner seems to have been a kind of early “trial organist” for the company. His may well also be the closest German training we will ever have to Bach’s own era—whatever musical relevance that might or might not have in these circumstances.
Diebold is represented by only one Bach piece—Toccata and Fugue in D Minor (BWV 565)—almost certainly the earliest recording we will ever possess of it. The fugue has notable differences in approach and note-readings from our practices today. Diebold’s rolls were released by Welte between 1912 and 1922. This possibly shunts him marginally later than Hofner, so perhaps he was the later to record. According to the catalogue, Seewen’s holdings and other known Welte collections, including those in the USA, Diebold played the following on Welte rolls:

Organist Johann Diebold
Welte #753* Birn, Weihnachts-Fantasie über Kommet, Ihr Hirten, op. 12
754* Böttcher, Festal Postlude
755* Faulkes, Lied, op. 136, no. 2
756* Mendelssohn, Sonata, op. 65, no. 1 in F Minor
757* Seiffert, Fantasie on a Motiv of Beethoven, op. 10
758* Tinel, Improvisata
774* Jongen, Pastorale in A Major
778* Neuhoff, Andante in E-flat Major
779* Jongen, Pastorale in A Major
780* Guilmant, Communion in A Minor, op. 45
781* Rheinberger, Romanze, op. 142, no. 2
782* Mailly, Finale aus Sonata für Orgel, D dur
783* Bach, Toccata and Fugue in D Minor
* Rolls and their scans now exist at Seewen, mostly in good playable condition.

The recordings of Ramin and Straube, the latter being the auto-prophetic author of the text quoted above, provide illuminating comparisons. The skill of the student, Ramin, at least equaled that of the master, if these rolls are any guide. Kurt Grosse is an interesting enigma—virtually unheard of today, he was one of Welte’s more prolific recording artists, with over 50 roll titles to his credit. This includes some of the epic Reger works (Fantasia on “Wachet auf ruft uns die Stimme,” op. 52, no. 2; Toccata and Fugue d/D; Fantasia and Fugue on B-A-C-H, op. 46). The
B-A-C-H is on a single roll and takes nearly 20 minutes to play; “Wachet auf” takes over 23 minutes (on one roll). Born and trained directly into the first generation of post-Brahms and Reger musicians, Grosse was mainstream Berlin organ school to the core. His playing—including some Brahms Preludes from op. 122—is a fount of challenge, example, and information.
Breitenbach was Swiss. Born in Muri/Aargau, later organist at Lucerne Cathedral, he moved mainly about the southern regions of Germany near Stuttgart. Paul Hindermann was similarly placed—he recorded rolls of Bach, Brahms, Saint-Saëns, Franck, Boëllmann, Schumann, Guilmant, Salomé, and Reger. Hindermann was a student of Rheinberger, although he plays none of his master’s works on the rolls surviving at Seewen. Nor is he listed in this connection in any known global resources we have so far seen. Hofmiller is the most prolific single Rheinberger exponent in this collection—he plays five of Seewen’s 14 Rheinberger rolls. No evidence of him playing other Rheinberger rolls has yet been found.
Mention was made above of Messner, the Salzburger. He studied in Innsbruck and Munich. Unfortunately he was not a prolific recording artist—even if some more rolls currently under calligraphic examination do turn out to be his. We certainly have a “Fugal Overture” to “Theophil” Muffat’s Suite for Organ and two works of Reger (Consolation, op. 65, and Romance in A Minor). It is just one of the many side-steps you have to take with this former musical culture when you note Muffat’s first name is given—as he sometimes did himself—as Theophil, a direct translation of Gottlieb. In this connection, Wilhelm Friedemann Bach was still attributed in the Welte catalogues with the Vivaldi/Bach D-minor concerto transcription, now known to have been by his father.
The early days of the Organ Revival can be very well chronicled through some of these rolls. The 1920–37 additions to the Britannic organ also display Organ Revival influences—although it is surprising how gently voiced the two Manual II mutation stops are. Even leaving Bach (over 80 rolls) aside, there is Eddy (playing Clérambault, Couperin), Messner (Muffat), Binninger (Georg Böhm) and others, who present us at least with interesting insights. Buxtehude is played by Ramin, Bonnet (most interestingly, being the only non-German to do so, possibly under known influences of Guilmant or Tournemire), Stark, Landmann, and Straube. William Byrd is played by ten Cate, Paul Mania includes some Couperin, Dupré and Daquin, while Bonnet also plays Frescobaldi (appearing as “Trescobaldi” once in the catalogues).
The Swiss organist Karl Matthaei was already a most remarkable pioneer of early music in the 1920s. Since then, performance of early music has taken on ever greater specialization, and seemingly also performance improvement—although anybody who wants to pass definitive public judgement on that might need to show a modicum of bravery. At any rate, it is remarkable to have Matthaei’s work preserved here. He plays Bach, Buxtehude, Hanff, Pachelbel, Praetorius, Scheidt, and Sweelinck, forming an amazing early-music oasis in this otherwise high-romantic roll collection.

Improvisations
Some of these organists improvised, too. This is again very important musical documentation in its own right, the vast majority of it otherwise unavailable. The Seewen collection lists well over 20 improvisations, including organists Dupré (mentioned above), Grosse, Hofner, Hollins, Lemare, Mania, Ramin, and Wolstenholme. One of particular interest—by Hermann Happel—is a cinema organ improvisation: Nachtstimmung.

The current state of the art and technology in Seewen
There are always caveats in roll-playing technology. For instance, nobody knows the exact speed at which Welte organ rolls actually ran (or even if they all ran at a standard speed). So tempo cannot be pinpointed to three decimal places. Nevertheless, a considerable amount of research into this topic has resulted in what has yielded a reasonably objective basis for our scanning. This checks out well against subjectively-convincing musical results.
We came to a roll transport speed of 50 mm per second over the scanner’s “tracker bar”, taking into account all our knowledge of the subject and the experience of others, including authorities such as Peter Hagmann and Nelson Barden.
After we derived this figure, we did ongoing subjective checks. The resulting playback limits of “acceptably fast or slow” are all fully credible. About 40 musicians have so far had input and have delivered this consensus. Thus, the hand-punched roll of the overture to Mozart’s Marriage of Figaro can scarcely go faster, and Grosse’s Brahms Opus 122 Chorale Preludes seem about as slow as you would normally want them. The overwhelming bulk of the machine-made Beethoven and Wagner rolls are precisely at “tempo expectations”.
The only evidence we have yet seen of different settings being required to the normal position on the organ’s speed lever is confined to a few rolls, such as Lemare’s (#1217 Siegfried-Idyll) or the complete Boëllmann Suite Gothique (on one roll #752) played by Paul Hindermann. Their boxes have a sticker on them: tempo langsam einstellen (set the tempo to slow). No further details. One presumes that means at the left end of Welte’s speed-lever scale—which is about 20% slower than “normal”. Technological problems can result from this, whether the roll is played pneumatically or scanned. Experiments in the 1960s had the Boëllmann roll played twice at differing speeds for some surviving radio recordings—but the whole system is so sensitive that changing the speed changes the registration! The roll does not play properly at the moment, either pneumatically or digitally, slow or fast.
Subjectivity, technical limitations, and variant playing paradigms still leave questions in roll speed equations. Welte’s records are lost or only vaguely defined in their entire Philharmonie heritage. There are timings marked on some roll boxes, and these are generally very close to those resulting from our scan speed of 50mm per second. Whether this is totally reliable evidence remains to be seen—multiple markings on some rolls are significantly at variance with each other. The cinema organ rolls have a high proportion of timings but some just say “4 to 5 minutes”—a 25% tolerance? The timing marked on the box of #955 (Beethoven Symphonie Pastorale IV. Satz) at 10′10″ is clearly around 7% slower than the roll-scan at 9′29″. And 7% is perceptible. So 50 mm/sec is possibly marginally too fast for this. Alternatively, the Beethoven Egmont overture (#956) is given as 8′30″ on the box, and our scan runs at 8′37″—so 50 mm/sec is fractionally too slow?
Comparison with the few acoustic recordings of the same piece by the same artist could also be a guide, but little more. Pianist Grünfeld’s (Schumann) Träumerei performance on organ roll (#516), early adaptions from original piano rolls, is three seconds longer (2′40″) than his acoustic recording (2′37″). If meaningful at all, this could indicate our 50 mm/sec is again a mite too slow? Seven minutes is written on one roll lead-in which takes 9′09″ to play—so here our choice is much too slow. Dominik Hennig (Basel/Lucerne), Daniel Debrunner, and I are currently spearheading further work in this arena. István Mátyás (Vienna) has also become involved.
We have some details of the timings of historic 78 recordings by Alfred Sittard. At the moment, only one looks to be directly comparable with the same artist’s roll recording (#1037, BWV 533, Präludium E moll), and that is 3′23″ (roll-scan) against 3′23″ (78). But the recordings were made about a decade apart, and while they seem to give fullest endorsement, the chances of achieving such split-second timing precision could also be approaching the miraculous rather than yielding scientific plausibility. Direct comparative tests on the existing Welte organ at Meggen, however, very closely endorse our chosen scan speed of 50 mm/sec.
The most likely explanations are, firstly, that Welte could not or did not hold precisely to an exact speed even if they were clearly conscious of this problem, and secondly, that such precision of tempi was simply not seen as a problem in their era.
The organ’s playing action repetition rates come into this. These are among the more objective tests available to us. In fact, these rates can be quite amazing. They are often used by Welte to give rapid orchestral tremolo effects in the big Wagner-style transcriptions (e.g., “Lohengrin selection” #642). But the firm was sometimes up to a degree of trickery here, as fast repetitions are occasionally achieved by alternating between manuals, thus doubling the limit. Even so, with hand-punched rolls they can be faster than humans can play and crisper than what seems to have been attainable from console playing. There remain obvious physical and musical limits—the diameter of holes in the paper, for one. With our current roll scanning speeds, these limits are reached but not exceeded. The geometry of rolls tugged over the tracker bar, from a take-up spool whose effective diameter increased as the music proceeded, also needs compensation from a digitizer that uses a (linear) roll-tracking pulley.
Investigations will probably be ongoing in perpetuity, but so far we seem to have achieved a convincing position. At any rate, speed adjustments and take-up spool diameter compensations in the organ’s computer allow any future, possibly better-authenticated, roll-speed figures to be applied.
It is probably significant that many who worked with these organs in the later 20th century often simply shunted the Welte pneumatic motors out and replaced them with electric motors that could take the loads more reliably. We restored the Welte roll-player pneumatic motor exactly as it was—typically with its power only barely equal to its purpose—but used fully adequate electric-motor systems for the scanner.
Another caveat is that the performances themselves are not always faultless—sometimes it is the organist, sometimes the technology. This leaves a dilemma— if we don’t make corrections, then they could sound poorly when judged solely by the standards that we are accustomed to. There seems to have been a degree of acceptance of wrong notes, variant tempi, inconsistent phrasing, registration errors and compromises, or other expedients—e.g., from playing 3-manual works on a 2-manual organ—that could well be beyond some current tolerances but were completely acceptable at the time.
Of further significance is the fact that these organists played from earlier editions. The editions are sometimes marked on the master-rolls. Notation has been read or misread, or mistakes in playing were more readily accepted. Yet composers were often still alive—or their culture was well recalled in living memory—so some organists could have been playing on a kind of “original authority” not known to us.
Leaving the performances alone, even if they seem faulty to us, is paramount. Perfection tends to be approached rather than achieved in the culture of paper roll recordings—as with CDs today for that matter. Moreover, the recording musicians, and, not least, Welte’s roll-editing staff, were all thoroughly entrenched in their own era’s musical paradigms. So anybody wanting to glean secrets from these performances is duty-bound to sit up and listen, even if—or especially if?—their credulity is stretched by non-conformity to today’s norms. Grosse, for example, five years old when Brahms died, born and trained directly into that and the Reger tradition, does not hold the lengthened notes in the op. 122 Herzlich tut mich erfreuen (#1859) and rather slavishly obeys—even exaggerates—the phrasing slurs. We could lose credibility if we played it like that today, and perhaps Grosse would have lost credibility then, but we emphatically desist from “corrections” of this kind to the scans.
No doubt, the relative perfection attainable from modern recordings and sheer professional competition have produced changes in standards and expectations. No doubt also, inherited traditions, after several generations of variant pedagogical opinion, have some part to play. What the rolls clearly demonstrate is that both playing standards and performance practices have changed. To make a metaphorical mixture out of it: at least some of today’s guru-preachers of authentic romantic organ playing might need to get back to their bibles.
Organists then were not all attuned to today’s slick playing approaches, although some, like Lemare, actually fathered them. It is also evident that varied interpretations and sometimes seemingly inaccurate, even “unrhythmic” playing were accepted. So: was it an epoch of rubato beyond that which we can now tolerate? Such freedoms are different. Or perhaps it was simply fame, justified or not, that sold roll performances, good or bad? Reger’s works seem mostly to fare better when played by others than the composer himself. Gigout, Eddy, Bossi, Lemare, the Goss-Custards, Dupré, Grosse, and Ramin are among those whose playing is particularly fine, although their interpretations are often at variance with today’s expectations.
One hand-punched roll (Welte #429) of Mozart’s well-known “mechanical organ” work, KV 608, gives some neat surprises: it promotes brisk tempi where some modern editions have perpetuated slower suggestions in parenthesis. Some organists have followed the slower option. Perhaps these parentheses were not known when the rolls were punched? Does retention of a faster tempo date back to an earlier practice, closer to Mozart’s intentions? Who put them there, why, and who follows them may be pertinent questions. The piece naturally presents itself on the Seewen organ with romantic tonal qualities, but these are overlaid with some classical performance attributes. At any rate, with apologies to myself and all good colleagues, it comes across like no organist—or two—can or would ever have played it. Thus, in performance paradigms—was this intended? At least this source is a century closer to its origins than we are now. The tempo of the opening (erstwhile “Maestoso”) section is around half note = 60, perkier than that normally heard within my earshot.

The registrations
Roll-recorded registration practices can be quite clever, with often very unexpected choices or later-edited technical manipulations. Guilmant’s “Seraphs” Cortège (#770) is registered with Harfe at the end, and a trick of roll-editing allows the double-pedaling segment on two registrations to be effectively realized. Such roll-editing clearly supported the organist in registrations corrected or enhanced during the post-recording editing processes. Lemare’s quick additions and subtractions of an 8′ in his Study in Accents (op. 64, roll #1181) may have been achieved with intervention—or not, knowing Lemare. His own endorsement given to the post-production master could hint at this: “Correct at last”. Equally his reputation for dexterous stop-manipulation could well be in evidence here.
The tendency of some Welte organists to draw the Vox Coelestis (on its own) and leave it on through all later combinations, including build-ups to plenums, is nowadays surprising. Reger plays the whole of the first section of his own Benedictus entirely on the Vox Coelestis alone—yes, without even another stop to beat with it. Moreover, he couples it to the pedals, but the rank has no sounding bottom octave, so you often hear just a vaguely-pitched Bourdon 16′ humming away in that lowest pedal octave. The Vox Coelestis clarifies the bass dramatically, but only from tenor C upwards—and then beats with it. This would be unacceptable in most organ lofts today. Yet it is the same whether we play the master roll or either of the two copy rolls we possess, whether digitally or pneumatically (#1295).
Reger’s idiosyncracies are legion in this roll collection. One wonders, when he turned up for his recordings, whether he did not adjourn immediately after his session to the local inn rather than stay on to check and edit his performances? Or maybe he had been at the inn before he made them? Quite possibly both. He had apparently not played organ for about five years when he was delivered to the studio around July 26, 1913 in that rather swank Maybach with its white-walled tires and klaxon (photo, p. 29).
Diebold, a pupil of Töpfer (1842–1929), also shares with Hofner and Gigout the honors of the first recordings and, just possibly, some residual Bach playing traditions. He held a major position in Freiburg/Breisgau and plays Mendelssohn’s first sonata complete (on one roll, #756). For the slow (second) movement he uses the Vox coelestis alone for an entire section which, on account of that same missing bottom octave, omits the C “manual-pedal-point” altogether! While that looks like a clear technical fault, we cannot afford to simply switch in a stop of our own choice to correct it. Further investigation is required, and if this is the way he played it, then no corrective action can be taken by us without at least alerts being issued.
The use of what is loosely referred to as “bells”—in fact there are two sets, both on Manual I: Harfe (xylophone) G–a3 and Glocken (tubular bells) C–g0—is also notably far more frequent than most would normally envisage today. As children of organ reform, we would probably almost never use them even if available. Yet it was an important selling-ploy of Welte’s, along with “Vox Humana”, “Tutti”, “Echo” and otherwise-identified rolls that captured the public’s imagination while draining their purses. So there could have been pressure on organists to use these stops. Some did, some did not. Bells are heard, logically enough, in Bonnet’s Angelus du Soir played by Bonnet himself (#1615), Massenet’s Scènes pittoresques: Angelus played by Samuel Baldwin (#1353), Wheeldon’s The Bells played by Goss-Custard (#2015), or the Wagner Bridal Chorus from Lohengrin (hand-punched, #642). Surprises arrive, though, in Ramin’s fine performance of Reger’s op. 129 (Prelude, #1991) or perhaps Bossi playing Dubois’ In Paradisum (#1011). The ocean, bad weather, and funerals seem to conjure up bells—Eddy in Schubert’s Am Meer (#1666) as well as Goss-Custard in William Faulkes’s Barcarole in B-flat major (#2001) or Lemmens’s Storm by Goss-Custard (#1121). And the list continues with Lemare in Saint-Saëns’ Danse Macabre (#1251), Erb in Guilmant’s Funeral March & Hymn of Seraphs, op. 17 (#770), and Eddy in Bossi’s Ave Maria (#1648).
The use of the Vox Humana also surprises at times, both with and without Tremulant—and that seems to be independent of “School”. Grosse playing Brahms’s chorale preludes is one notable instance. It was another Welte selling-point—proud of their rank modelled on “Silbermann”, even if it had zinc resonators. Wolstenholme’s use of it in Rheinberger’s Intermezzo (Sonate op. 119, #1546) is typical and effective. Possibly 50% of these performances use bells and/or Vox Humana at some point or other. The Harfe stop combined with Vox Coelestis is another surprise—yet this is expressly required by Karg-Elert in the printed edition of one of his works.
There is no evidence that coercion was used to force organists to choose favored stops—their use, while sometimes surprising, usually seems appropriate. The Vox Humana is occasionally used as a kind of string stop—doubly enclosed, thus allowing each of two boxes to be opened or closed. It can emit some very charming ppp dynamics down around the sound-levels of an Aeolina when both boxes are closed. It also allows useful, delicate-gritty pitch-definition to be maintained in low chords that don’t merely grumble. Grosse in Brahms’s op. 122 (Herzliebster Jesu, #1858) uses this rank well in such a context. Statistically it seems to have been far more often used then than it would ever be today—even if we still included it in our typical new organs. We seem to be “Vox-humana-clasts”, having all but eliminated one of the few organ registers that existed continuously from Renaissance through Romantic and even into cinema organs relatively unchanged. All of Welte’s organists, and the makers of hand-punched transcriptions, had a veritable field day with it.
Some of Bonnet’s interpretations are quite striking—his rubatos and/or rhythmic freedoms playing his own Berceuse (#1612) single him out. Equally so his use of the swell pedal, in an expressive playing style, at times notable for both speed and degree of dynamic change.
One other interesting example of organists and playing styles here is the much-beloved “crescendo fugue”. Alfred Sittard, a German organist, composer and musical editor, was born April 11, 1878 in Stuttgart. He studied in Cologne, then in 1903 became organist at the Dresden Kreuzkirche. In 1912 he moved to Hamburg Michaeliskirche and, in 1925, became an organ professor in Berlin, where he died on March 31, 1942. As mentioned above, he is important in early recording contexts, making 78s in the 1928–32 era. His roll recordings for Welte are much earlier: he included J. S. Bach, Franck, Händel, Liszt, Reger, Saint-Saëns, and his own Choralstudie: Wenn wir in höchsten Nöten sein. A significant influence in the early days of the organ reform movement, Sittard also edited and published music by Buxtehude, Scheidemann, and Weckmann. On Welte roll #1036 he applies the crescendo-fugue approach to the Bach G-major Fugue (BWV 541ii), working through both prelude and fugue in a little over nine minutes, a steady, unrushed performance. To the fugue he applies a “crescendo-diminuendo-crescendo-plenum” scheme, occasionally soloing voices out on Manual II. There is no associated accelerando.

The afternoons with Eugène Gigout
Singling out just one performer for special attention risks the appearance of sidelining the others, but the Seewen collection is truly massive, and demarcations need to be set for an article such as this. We could as well take Wolstenholme, Lemare, Ramin, Faulkes, Straube or any one of dozens of others.
Gigout was the earliest-born of the group invited by Welte to make the first official recordings. His session began on August 6, 1912, the last of five pioneering recording organists. Bossi, Sittard, Breitenbach, and Erb had preceded him. The next group began with Bonnet on February 6, 1913. As will be clear above, Gigout is “musical family” so my curiosity reigned supreme. As it turns out, my arrogant inverted nepotism quickly led to the humility of some unexpected revelations. What comes out of this has the broadest possible implications to the music of his age, his own music, how it was played, and specifically how he and others played it.
Functioning alongside the Lemmens-Belgian derivative school in Paris, but not being part of it himself, he also kept up good friendships with Franck and Guilmant, who were. It was a somewhat unusual cross-tradition situation. Here teacher-pupil genealogies had significance and were potential minefields. Gigout seems to have transcended the traditional in-fighting and was respected by all. Even his choice of recorded repertoire shows no sign of the polarized French organ politics of this era or later—the inclusion of one Franck and four Lemmens pieces alone is testimony to that.
He was in his “mature prime”—aged 68—when he made these recordings. He died at 81. We presume that, like Reger, he was also chauffered up in the Maybach and given the Welte “red carpet treatment”, so aptly described by Nelson Barden in his articles on Lemare.
This all places Gigout in a very important light historically. In early 2010, I found myself listening to him play—effectively “live”—on what turned out to be a number of unforgettable afternoons. The repertoire that he recorded and which survives in Seewen is listed here.

1079* Bach, Toccata, F dur
1587* Bach, Largo (Trio Sonata V)
1588* Bach, Allegro Moderato (Trio Sonata I)
1080* Bach, Präludium E-flat major
1585* Bach, In dir ist Freude
1586* Bach, O Mensch, bewein’ dein’ Sünde’ gross
1081* Boëllmann, Marche réligieuse (op. 16)
1592* Boëllmann, Sortie, C-major (op. 30, no. 5)
1591* Boëllmann, Communion B-flat-major (op. 30, no. 5)
1589* Boëllmann, Offertoire C-major (op. 29, no. 2)
1590* Boëllmann, Elévation, E-flat-major (op. 29, no. 1)
1082* Boëly, Andante con moto (op. 45, no. 7)
1595* Chauvet, Andante con moto no. 6 (arr. Dubois)
1596* Chauvet, Andantino no. 9 (arr.Dubois)
1083* Franck, Andantino G Minor
1598* Gigout, Marche réligieuse
1599* Gigout, Chant (from Suite) (“Lied” in catalogue)
1084* Gigout, Toccata
1085* Gigout, Communion
1086* Gigout, Grand Choeur dialogué
1600* Gigout, Marche de fête (Suite)
1087* Gigout, Minuetto
1597* Gigout, Marche des rogations
1601* Gigout, Fughetta
1602* Gigout, Cantilene
1603* Gigout, Allegretto Grazioso
1604* Lemmens, Scherzo (Symphony concertant)
1606* Lemmens, Fanfare
1607* Lemmens, Cantabile
1605* Lemmens, Prélude E-flat major
1608* Lemmens, Prière (“Gebet” in catalogue)
1088/9* Mendelssohn, Sonata, op. 65, no. 6 complete (on 2 rolls)
1609* Saint-Saëns, Sarabande
* indicates master-rolls.

There are four further Welte rolls known to have been cut by Gigout, but they are neither in Seewen’s possession nor in any collection we yet know of:
1090 Mendelssohn, Prelude, op. 37, no. 2
1191 Schumann, Etude, op. 56, no. 5
1593 listed as “Chauvet-Dubois”: Grand Choeur, no.1, I. livr.
1594 listed as “Chauvet-Dubois”: Andantino, no. 3, I. livr.

Bach
Gigout’s choice of Bach works is significant—with two big preludes and two trio sonata movements, he was not choosing an easy way out. His Bach playing may now be outmoded, but it is instructive: trio registrations, tempo, and general treatment in a “reserved romantic” style that allow the music mostly to be heard without undue fuss. We get the impression that he is always very conscious both of the counterpoint and of the formal structures.
In the Toccata in F (BWV 540—erroneously “E major” in the catalogue!—#1079), whatever questions about his registration there may now be, the organ itself, as always, was a major conditioner of choice. Foundational at the start—all manual flue 8′s and the Fagot 8′ (free reed) coupled—no Vox Coelestis—he makes a quick crescendo to full organ from about one minute before the end. The tempo is sprightly and the work springs to life musically, although he takes some surprising liberties in varying tempi. The ornamentation shows no modern awareness of Bach’s practice, nor is it “purely romantic,” for that matter. There are main-note trill executions and sometimes short, inverted mordents. The duration is 8′57″.
The Trio Sonata slow movement (BWV 529ii, #1587) uses the 16′ Pedal Subbass (coupled to both manuals), while Manual I (RH) consists of Vox Coelestis + Gamba, and Manual II (LH) just the Bordun 8′ + Wienerfloete 8′. He could have used a reed but chose not to—which does align with some modern thought on these matters. He starts with the box tightly shut for a lengthy period of time, then there is a degree of swell pedal manipulation. Again there are some freedoms—instabilities?—in tempo. He takes 5′40″ to play it (and concludes, omitting the short modulatory coda at the very end).
The Trio Sonata first movement (BWV 525i, #1588) is taken at a good “Allegro Moderato”—wherever that indication came from: Forkel 1802 through Griep-enkerl to France? The emphasis with Gigout is on the moderato. Freedoms at the cadential points, and some variant note-readings to today’s editions and performances are part of this item. Registration is Manual I (RH) flutes 8′ and 4′ (coupled to Pedal Subbass 16′ and Cello 8′) against Manual II Oboe 8′ (LH). There is rather a lot of swell pedal used, which could explain the relatively detached playing in the pedal against the more legato manual realizations, questioning modern approaches, which would have articulation strictly identical between manuals and pedals. Duration is 4′40″.
The E-flat major Prelude (BWV 552i, #1080) uses a big, reedy plenum alternating with second-manual flues and Oboe. There is again freedom in the rhythmic interpretation, but a rather noble and “grandiose” basic tempo is chosen. The trills are played as simple “upper mordents”. Like many of these early 20th-century performances, the artists took their time in tempi that were often, but not always, steadier than some today. Duration is 10′51″. There is no known matching roll of the fugue by Gigout.
In dir ist Freude (#1585) takes 3′38″. Both manuals are coupled to the pedals—with foundations 8′ (no 4′ or higher) including Manual I Principal and Manual II Oboe. The swell-box is open, tempo and rhythm are markedly flexible, and there are a few small variant note-readings. The plenum is brought on in a block towards the end, and the trills are then effectively upper-note trills. The roll technology needs some intervention: the pedal advance is at times disturbing. The scan is slated for further checking and possible correction, but this is not expected to change registration, tempo, agogic accent or articulation.
With O Mensch, bewein’ (#1586) we find a slow, but non-dragging tempo. The duration is 5′40″. There are many swell crescendos, the solo is on Manual I Principal + Traversfloete + Vox coelestis; this is accompanied by Manual II Wienerfloete + Aeoline, all 8′s. The pedal Subbass 16′ is coupled to both manuals, giving a very solid bass. This seems intended and occurs elsewhere—perhaps it was because he came from a French tradition of Principal-oriented pedal “Flûtes” where effects like this were more normal? At any rate, it is good fodder for nourishing further thought. The trills are main-note “lower-mordents”—mostly just single mordents. The Adagissimo is scarcely observed—little more than a trace of rallentando (with a brief crescendo and diminuendo from the expression pedal).
These two chorale preludes from the Orgelbüchlein provide some fuel for discussion. Gigout was born 94 years after Bach’s death. Naturally that gives him no open access to styles of playing in Saxony, or even correct editions, but his interpretations are not without distinction, and elements of them could well have some relevance. Similarities to the playing of his German contemporary, Hofner, and the Italian Bossi, have been noted above.

Boëllmann
Gigout, quite apart from being the teacher of Léon Boëllmann, had a close personal relationship with the whole family. This could give added significance to the following recordings.
In the Marche Religieuse (#1081, 7′42″), we have a sensitive performance with some relatively free moments, again especially around cadences. The freedoms are more frequent and crafted differently than those of his Bach: is there a small, but conscious stylistic differentiation being made here? Gigout begins on 8′s, including the Vox Coelestis. He then crosses to Manual II Bordun 8′ + Aeoline 8′ before returning to Manual I (as it was). After the initial change, he proceeds for a time, while the pedal is left coupled to a strong Manual I (Principal, Vox Coelestis, Flutes—all 8′). This again gives unusually solid pedal notes against the Manual II registrations. It all becomes rather grandiose towards the end with a reedy plenum, after which he reduces to (reedless) 16′–2′ foundations (RH on Aeoline alone). The conclusion is also notable for its highly detached articulation in the pedal.
The Sortie (2′43″, #1592) is played strongly and with much energy. The Communion (2′41″, #1591) is appropriately meditative. The Offertoire (3′48″, #1589) and Elevation (3′55″, #1590) originally gave us transposed tracks playing Manual II a semitone higher. This was simple enough to fix unobtrusively, but there remain other small problems with the rolls and consequently their scans. The timings should stand. The rest must wait until the massive logistics of this entire exercise permit.

Boëly
Andante con moto (op. 45, no. 7) is recorded on rolls by both Gigout (#1082) and Bonnet (#1203). The comparisons are instructive: Gigout registers with Vox coelestis and Traversfloete on Manual I, sometimes with Bourdon 16′, and with 8′ Aeoline, Viola and 4′ Blockfloete (RH solo) on Manual II. The second last chord is played on Manual II, but there is no echo passage at the end, at least not as there is with Bonnet. Tone is strengthened for a time towards the middle of the piece by Gigout’s addition of Principal 8′ (Manual I) and the double-bass-like tones of the Violonbass 16′ (Pedal). Bonnet, on the other hand, uses the Traversfloete 8′ and Vox coelestis 8′ on Manual I in a similar manner, but never changes it until he removes the Traversfloete for the echo at the end (leaving the Vox coelestis drawn alone—sic!). On the second manual he draws Viola 8′ and Wienerfloete 8′ and makes a more definite and lengthy closing echo passage—an entire phrase rather than just the final chord or two. No manual couplers are used by either organist and only I/Ped is drawn supplementing the Subbass 16′on the pedals. Bonnet’s 3′23″ contrasts with Gigout’s 2′57″ in a noticeable 12–13% tempo difference. Gigout’s slurring is slightly more conscious and expressive.
These two performances are broadly consistent with each other, but the differences are illuminating. They are both, judged subjectively from today’s vantage point, within fair limits of representing authentic “school” manifestations. What is at least equally important is that they also show how variant interpretations were just as much part of that “school” as conformity to norms ever was.

Chauvet/Dubois
The Dubois transcriptions of Chauvet are a phenomenon of their epoch, apparently rather liked by Guilmant, who included them on his programs. The Andante con moto is played freely by Gigout (#1595, 3′31″), with some quite beautifully shaped phrases, while the Andantino (#1596, 3′51″) is similarly endowed with a sensitive rubato, phrasing, and fine feeling for the melodic lines that characterize this piece. It is all rather clever—you quickly forget they are arrangements. Gigout plays fewer transcriptions than most of the other Welte organists relative to his recorded output.

Franck
Gigout playing Franck—lamentably only the one piece—must be a precious jewel in the entire history of recording. We have many other organists playing his music, but, frankly, none with quite this pedigree. They are barely a generation apart and co-existed in the same school, same city, on good terms with each other for decades; Gigout grew up in Franck’s culture. This puts another aura of special credibility on this recording.
The Andantino in G Minor (#1083) plays very well. Of interest is the eternal articulate or note-commune (or similar) question: “precedence to counterpoint or to harmony”? Here it seems to be harmony, judged by some octave leaps in the left hand to notes that the pedal is already playing. They are not lifted and repeated.
Registration summary: accompaniment commences on Vox Coelestis (alone), solo on Manual II Wienerfloete and Vox Humana (with Man II/Man II Superoctave). Mid-section he adds the Traversfloete to Man I. Here the upper voice is soloed by playing it in octaves—he either achieves an uncanny legato control here or Welte is assisting in the editing processes. At any rate the “solo” and accompaniment on the one manual is very effectively contrived in this way. The Pedal Subbass 16′ is coupled to Man I (again no point in coupling the bottom octave to the Vox Coelestis, but there it is). Next solo section is on same Man I and Pedal registration as first, but Manual II is now Oboe alone and no octave coupler. For the penultimate section he uses Man I and II coupled (giving Travers-
floete + Vox Coelestis + Wienerfloete and Horn—all 8′s). Then the Oboe replaces the Horn. The conclusion is just Aeoline and Vox Coelestis. There is not a lot of swell expression, but what is there is effective and the lack of it at times good contrast. This reminds us of Franck’s Third Choral in the middle section, where at one moment he indicates no “nuances,” only to make a most poignant and beautiful contrast when he does. The tremulant is not once used. Gigout takes 7′42″ to play the Andantino.

Lemmens
Once again we have an unusual authority in these recordings—music of this Belgian founder of the French School being played by a first-generation exponent.
In the Scherzo (“Scherzo Symphony concertant” in the catalogue, #1604, 4′59″) he gives a masterly performance, very expressive, if unhurriedly played. Gigout’s mastery is tangible. His arpeggiation of the chords begins slowly and then moves more quickly, producing a quite striking musical interpretation. A romantically imaginative treatment of the melodic line is also evident, along with freedoms and rubatos that captivate us while still leaving the lingering impression of a vestigial classically disciplined approach.
This tilting to the classical is well illustrated in the Fanfare (#1601 and # 4513). Some might be familiar with Gigout’s playing of it on the Linz-am-Rhein organ from the EMI CDs, but, while the tempo and articulation are in concordance, the registration there is not at all what Gigout heard when he recorded it. While some organists today understandably love to play Lemmens’ Fanfare, it is interesting to compare some performances with Gigout’s. He takes 3′07″, giving it a stately rendition, certainly compared to some who seem to be attempting a speed record for the piece. Gigout’s performance demonstrates ever so clearly how tempo is critical to successful phrasing, and how phrasing, alongside speed, is his key to playing this piece. The more constant legato (or glossed-over legato slurring) of some modern performances—partly enforced by their fast tempi—also conjures up important comparisons: Gigout’s articulation is once again here what we could consider as looking back towards the 18th century. It is mostly quite distinctively detached, but he graces this with an expressive legato in special “purposeful slurring” at clearly-selected moments. His targeting and treatment of these—most notably at cadential points—stems from the music itself but his interpretation is distinctive, structured and precise, part of Gigout’s general style and nowhere better heard than here.
In the Cantabile (#1607, 5′35″) his registration is Manual I Traversfloete, Manual II Bordun and Aeoline 8′ to start with (RH solos). Later the Principal 8′ is added to Manual I. Pedal Subbass 16′is coupled to Manual I throughout. The end returns to the initial registration. He uses much swell expression coupled with some neatly romantic rhythmic freedoms.
For the Prélude in E-flat major (#1605) the registration is: Pedal Subbass 16′, Cello 8′, Man II 8′ Viola and Aeoline, and Manual I Fagott, Prinzipal and Vox Coelestis (all 8′)—Man I/Ped and Man II/I. This is another masterly and strikingly beautiful performance by Gigout. The scanned roll plays remarkably well. Gigout takes 4′42″ to play it.
Prière (#1608, 3′18″): For this erstwhile “Vox Humana en Taille”, his registration is Manual II (LH) Vox Humana 8′ + Aeoline 8′, Manual I (RH) Vox Coelestis 8′(on its own—sic!) with Pedal Subbass 16′ coupled to both manuals. The swell box is open; all is registered without tremulant. Again he employs much expression pedal, sometimes manipulating it rather faster and more dramatically than we might expect. We are reminded here of the few early references to swell manipulation, for instance Handel as reported by J. Hess “struggling with the new device” in London. Broadly speaking, the era of 18th-century nag’s head swells was followed by one of trigger and ratchet devices in the 19th century and balanced swell pedals in the 20th with all their “logarithmic” and “fine-tuning” capabilities as well as allowing the foot to be removed and the set dynamic remain. Although the Welte swell was balanced, there are hints that Gigout might still have manipulated it a little like a 19th-century French ratchet device. Sometimes in these roll recordings, other organists also play in this manner: a little more gross than subtle. It does pose the question as to whether, in an era of historic performance consciousness, we should be differentiating our swell pedal techniques according to delineated 18th, 19th, or 20th century practices. This is just one of the many cans of paradigmatic worms opened up by this world of roll recordings.

Mendelssohn
Sonata op. 65, no. 6 (complete sonata on two rolls #1088 and #1089). This recording was an early Welte release from 1913. As with some others of that vintage, the pedal is advanced to a point of audible discomfort. Accordingly, this is one slated for corrective treatment, after which a better impression of the original performance should be available. That aside, Gigout opens with a reedy combination; then, for the flute and pedal section, he uses his characteristic “expressive articulation”. The swell expression is again a chapter in itself—perhaps a little exaggerated by some modern standards?—but the entire performance is a useful revelation of Mendelssohn interpretation in the immediate post-Mendelssohn era. Gigout, born just three years before the much-traveled Mendelssohn died, was a first-generation inheritor of that musical world.
The arpeggiated chords section (“Allegro molto”) is taken at about half note = 55—slower than the 69 that might be expected from available editions today. The freedom in Gigout’s arpeggiation is again notable, and two curious appoggiaturas are also heard in this section. A few problems linger—possibly from the early development of this technology, possibly uncorrected mistakes, and, just possibly, Gigout’s actual intentions. There are some variant note-readings to today’s norms, e.g., the soprano “A” in bar 43 for example is held right over and only broken just before the last-beat “D” in bar 44; the pedaling from bar 55 is not always exactly as marked.
This was an interesting choice for early release by Welte: French-Gigout playing in the German-Mendelssohn repertoire stream. Object lessons may also be found in his adaptation of this work to an early 20th-century German organ. The chorale solo after the beginning is played on Manual I Traversfloete 8′ + Gamba 8′ + Vox coelestis 8′. It is very effective. The second movement Fuga following really does start “forte”—both Manual II Oboe and Manual I Fagott are included and the swell box is entirely open. At bar 64 an F-sharp instead of F-natural (alto part) is played. The final movements are registered distinctly more reedily than many modern performances—partly occasioned by the organ’s resources, partly by Gigout’s free choice. A fine playing sensitivity in the last movement is well evident.
The complete sonata takes nearly 17 minutes to play. Roll one (1st and 2nd movements) is 10′37″ of music, and roll two (3rd and 4th movements) 6′07″.
Was Welte in something of a hurry to get this roll out? If so, it might also explain the fairly coarse pedal advance and other compromises. Mendelssohn formed a major block in the Welte catalogue and was clearly very important there for his place in German musical culture. Erb had recorded the Midsummer Night’s Dream Wedding March, which was released 1912, and Köhl followed in 1913 with Sonata in C Minor, op. 65, no. 2. But the former was relative trivia and the latter did not represent the truly great interpreter that Gigout offered. Harry Goss-Custard, Clarence Eddy, and Edwin Lemare’s later releases of 1914–16 did much to fan the “Mendelssohn transcription” flames, but very little to represent the sonatas. So it was Gigout, the Frenchman, left to fill this breach with Mendelssohn interpretation until the post-WWI releases. Even then, the offerings mostly included transcriptions and only the odd movement, never again a complete sonata.

Saint-Saëns
Sarabande: this roll (#1609, 3′17″) also gave us a few problems on account of paper movement and distortion, the results of aging, humidity, and other factors, which caused one manual to be transposed a semitone and some small “glitches” of probably little enduring consequence. The transposition fixed, it is evident that this performance also allows interesting comparisons; for, in spite of the classical form—and articulation patterns with 18th-century echoes?—he gives it an overriding romantic treatment endorsing our earlier assessment concerning his stylistic consciousness.

Gigout plays Gigout
Gigout playing his own music is, naturally, of paramount importance. With these rolls we are the fortunate inheritors of much unique material. In general, he seems to move his pieces well along in tempo (of relevance might also be his slightly faster tempo than Bonnet for Boëly’s Andante con moto mentioned above). He shows ties back to 18th-century practices, partly through the repertoire forms he uses (Minuet, Fughetta, March) as well as certain elements of their musical styles. It is evident that his own playing is positioned squarely between “18th-century articulate” and “19th-century legato”—not, however, a general compromise between the two, more a deliberate application of one or other at given moments.

Marche réligieuse (#1598, 4′27″)
He commences on foundations with Manual I Fagott 8′ (a free reed), then crescendos to full organ: the performance fringes nicely on the grandiose and there are some tasteful rhythmic freedoms worthy of observation.

Lied (from Suite) (#1599, 7′39″)
This starts with Manual I 8′s, Vox Coelestis + Traversfloete; he later adds the (manual) 16′ then Principal 8′. The Aeoline 8′ on its own in Manual II accompanies for a time, after which a series of slightly varied foundational registrations follow.
The Manual I Bourdon 16′ was interestingly not available on the original 1909 recording organ, but we know this was modified and some of it reportedly changed under Lemare’s influence. Lemare seems to have first been there, however, after Gigout—although there is prima facie evidence that he might have included this stop in his registration schemes. Either Welte had already included it well before Gigout’s 1912 arrival or there is the possibility of a technical error or an intervention through which the company “re-registered” the piece themselves later. So far there is no significant evidence that the company did this, other than at the behest of the artist, although we know they were perfectly capable of all manner of editing: notes or stops, in or out.

Toccata in b minor (#1084, 2′58″)
This famous work, as played by Gigout himself, is a most interesting exposition of his intentions as well as his flexibility in creative adaption given the resources available. The registration includes Harfe on the main manual (they actually perceptibly sound through in the first section as the pedal is already coupled to Manual I but he plays on Manual II). In fact, the pedal is only used as a manual I and II “pulldown”—just 8′ pitches—until he brings on the Posaune 16′ (alone) for the final chords.
It may eventually be shown that the bells are company intervention or some technical fault that has eluded us. Their presence or absence in the Weil-am-Rhein recording may or may not be of relevance for all sorts of reasons. It has, however, been checked thoroughly by all of us involved—many times—and for the moment we can come to no other conclusion than that they are there as Gigout’s intention or at least with his blessing. Judged in relation to the rest of the collection, this would certainly be the kind of repertoire for which bells might be used. To give a further glimpse into this world of roll-recordings in direct relation to this question, there are some cryptic markings on many of our master rolls—including this one—that are yet to be fully interpreted. These enigmatic details relate to the Harfe, Vox humana, rarely Tremulant and sometimes other stops, occasionally also “Tutti” or “Echo”. They seem to be a check on important aspects of registration, organ models, and appear to endorse the use of some stops which “sold” these organs and their rolls. It is obvious that they were reviewing them for some reason or other in the 1923–1926 era. Similar markings seem to relate to adjustments they did in the crescendos and pedal. On the box of this toccata it gives “Harfe”, on the master-roll lead-in it gives “H ung.f.V.h 23” (Harfe ungeeignet für Vox Humana 23 [Harp unsuitable for Vox Humana 1923]) and “Tutti”. The H is specifically underlined. Make of it all what you will, but all roads seem to lead to the Rome of bells (Harp) being used in this piece quite intentionally. As might be expected from a tradition not so noted for including bells in their specifications, this Toccata is probably a lone example in Gigout’s recordings (although see below Marche des rogations).

Communion (#1085, 4′10″)
Gigout uses the Vox coelestis combined only with the Traversfloete (rather than another string, or Principal).

Grand Choeur dialogué (#1086)
The tempo is relatively sprightly here, with a 5′20″ duration for the entire piece. He takes some notable tempo freedoms and there is no shirking the double-pedaling or any other difficult technical aspects of this work. Gigout plays it as he wrote it except for one moment where the pedal is slightly changed—seemingly either a lapse on his part or editing/technology—and there are elsewhere some slightly variant note readings for whatever reason. But the work is overwhelmingly played intact and true to its published text. The Seewen organ suits it rather well with its strong Trumpet 8′ on the second manual: the manuals are coupled, the second is every bit the equal of the first. Thus the final effect tends to be an addition or subtraction mainly of Manual I foundational weight, aided and abetted by the 16′ Clarinet on Manual II (from tenor G up) when he plays on the main manual. Some subtle but perceptible sound-source shifts from side to side, reflecting the organ’s windchest placements may also be detected, promoting the “dialogué” aspects. It keeps an equality of balance while still offering distinction in tonal effect and sound location. Nevertheless he adds and removes stops, increasing the effect of “dialogué” (actually removing some before the end).
In the pedal he desists from using the Posaune 16′ at all, nor is any form of octave coupling evident (it was available). In fact the piece is dynamically slightly more restrained than it could have been, most notably leaving the main manual Trumpet and the Pedal Posaune off—in other words it is not played with the full tutti available from the organ, showing that Grand Choeur does not necessarily mean absolutely everything.

Marche de fête (from Suite) (#1600, 7′05″)
This is another excellently articulated and finely chiseled performance in Gigout’s more grandiose manner. The rolls account for two of the three works in this Suite.

Minuetto (#1087, 4′53″)
Here he plays the solo on the Clarinet 16′ at the start of the “A”-sections, and uses a purposeful, detached articulation in the pedal along with some notable freedoms that clearly draw this to our attention. The pedal advance is noticeable and needs correction. His rubatos and rallentandos are interesting—sometimes there is a characteristic short pause-and-dwell before launching into a new phrase. Tempo borders on brisk, shattering some slower concepts of “Minuet” perhaps, but the piece moves along convincingly.

Marche des rogations (#1597, 3′51″)
This needed some correction of a transposed track, and the roll-scan is not yet ready to play with full technical certainty, but his articulate performance style is again indisputably evident. Transposed tracks and apparent paper warpage leave questions as to whether his use of bells is really correct. For the moment, however, it seems quite possible and works well since only the Glocken (C–f#0) is drawn, giving a 3-manual effect with Manual I bass + Manual I treble + Man II).

Fughetta (#1601, 2′34″)
This was first published in 1913, the year after he had recorded it for Welte. Another neat Gigout performance, it moves along energetically and displays his characteristic articulation-and-slurring mix using a slightly reedy registration—both Manual I Fagott 8′ and Manual II Oboe 8′ are added to strong foundations at 16′ in pedal and 8′ in manual.

Cantilène (#1602, 4′08″)
A very tasteful, expressive performance. As accompaniment Manual I Traversfloete 8′ + Vox Coelestis 8′, later adding Principal 8′, RH solo on Oboe 8′+ Wienerfloete and Bourdon 8′s. The Pedal Subbass 16′ is coupled to Manual I. He applies almost constant, but tasteful, swell expression, and there are some interesting, not entirely predictable playing freedoms.

Allegretto Grazioso (#1603, 3′34″)
The RH Solo is on the Wienerfloete, sometimes with Oboe and Horn (the latter is a remarkable large-scaled flue rank). The LH accompaniment is on the Traversfloete 8′ + Vox coelestis 8′, with Principal 8′ added for a time. Pedal registration is Bourdon 16′ coupled to Manual I (LH). The interpretation is in a similar style to that of the Cantilène.

Most of Welte’s organists play their music relatively “straight”—that is, without a lot of obvious interpretative freedom in tempo, articulation, rhythm, ornamentation, or rubato. With some, it is even as if they were sight-reading and had not considered the formal structures, subtleties, or even cadences, or, if they did, then they don’t appear to want to do much about them. Gigout is one of the more notable exceptions to this. Yet even he had limits that confined his interpretations mostly to relatively conservative boundaries, certainly by some of today’s more exaggerated standards. In the light of recent research, we can probably say that Gigout was not on solid ground with his 18th-century ornamentation. What he does demonstrate, however, is a romantic tradition and a notable variety of approach to styles.
Notwithstanding the caveats, we have here clear insights into Gigout’s entire musical environment and particularly just how he expected his own music and the traditions surrounding him to sound. As ever, we are free to take or leave the evidence of these rolls with impunity, but those looking for direct sources of playing paradigms for this era will welcome these recordings. Interestingly, the Swiss organist Franz Josef Breitenbach (Lucerne Cathedral) and German Thaddäus Hofmiller (Augsburg Cathedral) also recorded one roll each of Gigout’s music for Welte: Breitenbach the Scherzo, Hofmiller the Marche funèbre. These also have distinctive value in the larger Gigout picture available here.

Conclusion
Posterity may well bestow no laurels upon mimesis: but laurels are due to the whole sequence of events and visionary people who, by an extraordinary 20th century cultural-preservation miracle, have safely delivered this full-sized Philharmonie linked with the largest roll collection left in the world today as a symbiotic musical entity into the 21st century. The performances of these organists can once again be heard and studied, and Straube’s “moment of metaphysical experience” is available to us in a more enduring form than ever it was. ■

The Museum at Seewen is committed to making these performances accessible. Already many public and private, national and international, visits, demonstrations, and symposiums for organists, organ societies, organ students, and teachers have taken place. More are planned as well as some CD releases—three in 2011 on the OehmsClassics label—but the volume of material means that not everything can be published, certainly not immediately.
In the meantime, scholars, organists, organ teachers and their classes are very welcome. However, the playing of these performances is not part of the museum’s regular guided tours except for a few selected demonstration pieces. So, visitors hoping to hear these rolls will want to make special arrangements. From now, through 2011–12, anyone with a serious scholarly interest should make initial contact through me at <A HREF="mailto:[email protected]">[email protected]</A>.
From 2011, a major centennial exhibition commemorating the appearance of the Welte Philharmonie at Turin in 1911 will be mounted by the Seewen Museum. Information is posted at <A HREF="http://www.bundesmuseen.ch/musik automaten/presse/00108/00109/index">www.bundesmuseen.ch/musik automaten/presse/00108/00109/index</A>.
html?lang=en>.
This will include symposium-style sessions dedicated to specific organists and aspects of organ playing. Details will be posted.
You can hear examples of
• #1274, Lemare playing Gounod’s Queen of Sheba: March and Cortege
• #1084, Gigout playing his own Toccata in B Minor
• #1106, Goss-Custard playing Elgar Imperial March, op. 32
• #717, Hofner playing the Bach Prelude on Herzlich tut mich verlangen (BWV 727)
at the following web-sites:
<www.david rumsey.ch> or
<www.musikautomaten.ch&gt;

Acknowledgements
Christoph Haenggi, Director of the Seewen (SO/CH) Museum der Musikautomaten
Brett Leighton, Linz (A), who read this through and offered many important enhancements
Nelson Barden, Boston (USA)
Jim Crank, Redwood City, CA (USA)
Marco Brandazza, Lucerne (CH) custodian of the Meggen Welte and its collection of rolls
Gerhard Dangel, Augustiner Museum, Freiburg/Breisgau (D)
Daniel Debrunner, Biel (CH)
David Gräub, Biel (CH)
Dominik Hennig, Basel (CH)
István Mátyás, Vienna (A)
Hans Musch, Freiburg/Breisgau (D)
Lars Nørremark, Denmark (DK)
Jean-Claude Pasché, Theatre Barnabé, Servion (CH)
Christoph Schmider, Direktor Archepiscopal Archives, Freiburg/Breisgau (D)
and to my wife, Elizabeth, and many others, including the entire Geisterhand team, my sincere gratitude for shared expertise, support and ongoing work in this field.

*

An abbreviated history of recording
(with particular reference to the organ)

1870s–1900: Pioneers of acoustic recording; the cylinder
1877: American inventor Thomas A. Edison developed the “talking machine.” As commercially offered, it could both record and reproduce sound using wax cylinders.
1887: Emile Berliner filed a U.S. patent for a “Gramophone” (using discs instead of cylinders.)
1888–1894: Cylinders were sold, e.g., with readings by Tennyson and Browning. Brahms recorded one of his Hungarian rhapsodies. Josef Hofmann and Hans von Bülow recorded piano music.
1890: Magnetic (wire) recording was first explored by Danish engineer Valdemar Poulsen.
1894: Charles and Émile Pathé established a recording business near Paris. They issued cylinders. By 1904 the catalogue contained ca. 12,000 titles. Berliner began manufacturing his gramophones, founding the “Victor” firm. Their recordings (many novelty items) became popular, especially from coin-in-the-slot machines.
1897: The pianola was patented by E.S. Votey—originally a limited form of Vorsetzer.

1900–1910: “78” era; piano roll-recordings
From 1902 a marked rise in public interest occurred, particularly with recordings of Italian tenor, Enrico Caruso. The fortunes of Victor waxed.
1904: The Welte firm perfected and marketed their Vorsetzer, which was integrated into the “Welte-Mignon” piano from 1905. The recording and issue of piano-roll performances now became a good commercial prospect, although more the province of the rich. Early artists included Cortot, Paderewski, Debussy, Rachmaninoff, Rubinstein, Grainger, Gershwin.
By 1910 possibly 85 percent of recorded music was classical.

1910–20: The acoustic boom
Birth of organ roll recordings

With the phonograph an early mass-media phenomenon was created, no longer just the province of the rich. The “78” (78 disc revolutions per minute) recording fully replaced the earlier wax cylinders and became entrenched as standard. Originally made from shellac—later synthetic thermoplastic resins gave better results with less “surface noise”—they came in 10-inch and 12-inch sizes, the largest of which were capable of durations extending to about 41⁄2 minutes.
by 1912: The first roll recordings of organists were made by Welte in Germany—but ownership of player organs was virtually the sole province of highly affluent individuals, institutions, or companies. Some (rare) early gramophone recordings of organists were made in England and the first complete symphonies were recorded in Germany: solo instrumentalists and opera singers followed with excerpts and potpourris.
1914–1919: Phonograph sales quintupled. Original composition also began for player piano, which sometimes attracted leading composers (Stravinsky, Étude for Pianola 1917). Later Hindemith (Toccata for mechanical piano 1926) and others, notably George Antheil (Le Ballet mécanique, 1926) and Conlon Nancarrow continued this genre of recorded music. Only two roll-composed works for mechanical organ are known: the experimental stage piece, Triadischen Ballett by Oskar Schlemmers (1888–1943) was revised by Hindemith in 1927 as Suite für mechanische Orgel but survives only in an early recording (available on CD) and Studie for mechanical organ by Ernst Toch (1887–1964) which appears to have been lost.
1917: The “Victor” label increased its sales with classical releases, especially popular from their collaboration with the Philadelphia Orchestra conducted by Leopold Stokowski.
All early commercial sound recording and reproduction to this point was achieved solely by acoustical means.

1920s: Electrical recording, broadcasting; roll recordings
From the early 1920s the vacuum-tube (“valve”), invented by Lee De Forest, paved the way for applications such as the amplifier and the record-cutting lathe. Microphones, earphones and loudspeakers now replaced the old needles and acoustical horns, while turntable drives shifted from the wind-up spring to the electric motor. The recording of “classical” music increased greatly but popular music and jazz also established their places. American and German scientists developed Poulsen’s earlier wire recording technology and researched the potential for magnetic tape as an alternative medium to wire.
1923: An optical system of sound recording was invented by De Forest—of special relevance to sound films.
From 1925 electrical recording quickly predominates.
1926: Radio broadcasting is introduced and music becomes far more freely available to all classes of society.
1926–30: After a decade or so of more experimental organ recordings some early organ recordings appear, taking advantage of the newly available electrical technology (Alcock, Darke, Bullock, Palmer, Roper, Marchant, Thalben-Ball—the most notable in England was Harry Goss-Custard who had already recorded on Welte rolls). Edwin Lemare, another Welte player-roll recording artist, later made discs in the USA.
1928 (November): Louis Vierne made 78s at Paris, Notre Dame Cathedral.
Around 1930 in Germany, Walter Fischer made 78s of Rheinberger and Händel organ concertos in an unidentified location, but generally thought to be the Berliner Dom. Alfred Sittard—who had recorded on Welte rolls released from 1913 onwards—made some 78 recordings between 1928–32 in Berlin (Alte Garnisonskirche) and Hamburg (Michaeliskirche). Six of Sittard’s recording titles are duplicated on both roll and disk (two Bach, three Handel, one work of his own).
1930–1: Charles Tournemire made recordings at Paris, Saint Clôtilde.
From 1929 onwards the great economic depression threw the recording industry into serious decline: dance music recordings played on jukeboxes helped sustain a contracted market throughout the 1930s. The vogue of the player piano and player organ began to decline with this and the increasing popularity of the radio and phonograph, although player piano culture survived to a remarkable degree through the mid-20th century.

1945–1970: Microgroove recordings; tape
After World War II, magnetic systems were brought to full technological acceptability (the “tape recorder” era began and the use of wire declined). Similarly constant improvements in optical systems endowed motion pictures with ever higher quality sound.
1948: The “long-playing” record was first introduced (LP 331⁄3 revolutions per minute, for a time also a 45 rpm format); discs made of “vinyl” took over and the “78” quickly disappeared from production. Available maximum playing times increased to 20–25 minutes (about the maximum capacity of some of the rolls from 30 years earlier).
1958: Provision of two separate channels of recorded information in the one groove ushered in the era of “binaural” (stereophonic) recording. This became standard.
The era of “hi-fi” particularly boosted organ disc recordings, which had suffered badly from inadequate technology hitherto. This led to a notable increase in “complete” (e.g., Walcha playing Bach) works and comprehensive anthologies of organ music and organs.
Tape also was used for video recordings.

1970s: Digital
1970s: Digital recording technology displaced analogue and took over the industry (quadraphonic and similar experiments followed but were mostly unsuccessful except in cinemas).
In the late 20th century the player-piano concept was reinvented and applied; e.g., Yamaha’s “Disklavier,” which offered self-recording, and selected performances by artists from Horowitz to Liberace.
1980s: Fully digital compact discs (CDs) were introduced; they dominated the market by the 1990s. Playing time increased to over an hour. Digital editing and mixing techniques also evolved to produce a highly-packaged sound quality.
By the early 21st century, DVDs had also become a factor in sound and video recording as well as mass information storage. Their playing time could now cope with almost any extended musical form, including videos of operas. Recording to computer hard drives and memory sticks recently became an option and seems set to quickly become a new standard.

Nunc dimittis

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Nunc Dimittis

Alexander Shaw Mitchell, Jr., 76, of Danville, Virginia, died December 4 in Greensboro, North Carolina. Born January 8, 1940, in Shelter Island, New York, he began piano study at the age of four with his grandmothers, both church musicians, becoming a church musician by the age of thirteen. He married Henrietta “Hank” Schoolcraft Sherman on July 15, 1959, in Shelter Island. 

Mitchell first studied elementary education in college, but left after the first year to move to Utica, New York, where he studied music at the Utica Conservatory of Music and was the organist and choirmaster at Calvary Episcopal Church, Utica, teaching piano and organ privately. After a decade in Utica he became the organist and choirmaster at St. Luke’s Episcopal Church in East Hampton, New York. 

Alexander and Hank moved to Europe where he studied music in Italy, Germany, and England. In England, he studied organ and choral conducting at the Royal School of Church Music and eventually received his degree in music at the Royal School of Music in Manchester. He then settled in Cornwall where he served as organist and choirmaster of the local parish church. Returning to the United States in 1981, he served as organist and choirmaster at churches in New Bern, North Carolina, and in Eastville, Virginia. He moved to Danville in 1988, serving several local churches before settling at the Episcopal Church of the Epiphany where he was organist and choirmaster for 15 years before retiring in 2010. His retirement was short-lived as he was called to serve First Presbyterian Church in Danville as director of music for several years until his health failed. 

Alexander Mitchell is survived by one brother, Ronald Mitchell, and family of Shelter Island, one step-grandson, Douglas Charles Hovey, and two step great-grandchildren.

David Rumsey, 77, Australian organist, pedagogue, researcher, composer, and consultant, died February 12, 2017, in Basel, Switzerland. Born in Sydney, Australia, March 30, 1939, he was a major figure in the development of Australian organ playing, repertoire, recording, and building since the mid 1960s. He studied organ with Norman Johnston at the Sydney Conservatorium of Music, graduating as student of the year in 1963, after which he went to Europe to study with Marie-Claire Alain in Paris, France, and Anton Heiller at the Vienna Akademie, where he graduated in 1966. He returned to Australia in 1966 together with fellow Heiller student, Christa Brosch, whom he married.

Moving from Adelaide to Sydney in 1969, Rumsey established the organ and church music programs at the Sydney Conservatorium of Music and led the department for the following thirty years. He organized extensive European organ tours throughout his tenure. His repertoire was broad, and included early music and contemporary Australian organ music. He was organist for the Sydney Symphony Orchestra throughout this period. In 1998, he wrote, produced, acted, and performed in a 14-hour musical and dramatic spectacle on the life of
J. S. Bach, with actors in period costume from the National Institute of Dramatic Art (AUS), and musicians playing period instruments.

That same year, he married Elizabeth Jones, and they moved to Basel, Switzerland, in 1999. He continued his commitment to organ research, particularly in his collaboration with Kimberly Marshall on a lexicographical collection of articles about the organ while pursuing his playing and lecturing career. He was the organist of the Catholic church in Laufen, near Basel, and in 2010, in collaboration the Dutch organbuilder Winold van der Putten, designed and commissioned the building of a Gothic organ. A significant emphasis over the recent years has been his collaboration with Daniel Debrunner on the restoration, curation, and promotion of the 1913 Welte Philharmonic Organ (originally destined for HMHS Britannica, now housed in the Swiss national museum of automated musical instruments in Seewen) and the preservation and documentation of the collection of rolls recorded on the instrument by eminent organist/composers of the early 20th century.

Among his articles published in The Diapason are “The Origins of Seewen’s Welte-Philharmonie” (February 2008), “Welte’s Philharmonie roll recordings 1910–1928: My afternoons with Eugène Gigout” (February 2011), and “In Search of the Secrets of Medieval Organs: The European Summer of 2012—A Report and Some Reflections” (May 2013).

David Rumsey is survived by his wife, Liz, two daughters, Stella and Marie, and four granddaughters.

In the wind . . .

John Bishop
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“Won’t you be my neighbor?”

Do you associate a tune with that sentence? The cardigan sweater, the sneakers, the catchy melody, and the slightly off-pitch singing are all icons for the children of baby boomers—those who grew up watching Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood. I picture a quiet suburban cul-de-sac with ranch houses, station wagons parked on concrete driveways, bicycles on their sides in the tree lawns, kids being sent next door to borrow a cup of sugar, and maybe a spinet piano covered with framed photos. Fred Rogers did his best to teach our children and us how to be good friends and neighbors over the airways of Public Television.
There’s an eight-rank Aeolian residence organ in my workshop right now, Opus 1014, built in 1906 for the home of John Munro Longyear in Brookline, Massachusetts. Mr. Longyear discovered huge mineral deposits in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, acquired vast tracts of land, and made a fortune bringing the ore to market. He and his wife Mary were devoted students of Christian Science, and they moved to Boston in 1901 where Mary Longyear became a close friend of Mary Baker Eddy, the founder of Christian Science. Following their deaths, their home was left to a foundation in their name that developed the building and grounds into a museum about Christian Science.1 After the museum closed in 1998, the estate was purchased by a developer who built a community of condominium residences on the site. The Organ Clearing House acquired the organ in the summer of 2005, helping the developers create space for a fitness center.
This is a terrific organ, complete with a 116-note roll-player, the famed automatic device that plays the organ using paper rolls. Spending a few months with an organ like this gives one great insight into the standards of a legendary company. In the last years of the nineteenth century, Aeolian began building a list of clients that reads like Who’s Who of the history of American corporations. Aeolian didn’t get such a good name by accident—their organs are beautifully made and uniquely conceived as the last word in personal luxury of their day. The idea that a pipe organ like this would be considered a must-have furnishing in a grand house has captivated me, and with the help of a smashing book I’ve formed a picture of a neighborhood that would knock Mr. Rogers’ socks off.
Rollin Smith’s The Aeolian Pipe Organ and Its Music was published by the Organ Historical Society in 1998 and is available through their catalogue. Go to and buy a copy or two. I took quite a bit of grief at home when my wife realized that the book I was chuckling over was about residence pipe organs, but when I read her a couple passages my point was made. Mr. Smith understands that the heritage of the Aeolian Company is something very special, and he has told us all about it. The book contains plenty of facts about the company’s history. The stories about the early twentieth-century organists who played on, composed for, and recorded on the Aeolian Organ form a fascinating picture of the styles and opinions of early twentieth-century virtuosi—many of whose names are familiar to us today. The importance of the Aeolian Organ as documentation of a school of playing is unequaled—remember that the phonograph was primitive in those days—and the Aeolian rolls are among the earliest accurate recordings of such masters as Marcel Dupré, Clarence Eddy, and Lynwood Farnam. An example of the accuracy of this musical documentation is found on page 227, where Mr. Smith provides a comparison of the first eight measures of the score of the Daquin Noël with a reprint to scale of the same passage as recorded on the Aeolian roll by Dupré. By looking at the length of the notes on the roll, an organist familiar with piece can see clearly that Dupré clipped the first note of the piece short and accented the second (fourth beat of the measure), that he added a low D in the left hand on the fourth beat of the fourth measure (not in the score!), and that he started his trills on the lower note. What a lot of historical information to get from a few dots on a page.
Mr. Smith emphasizes the importance of this documentation by quoting a statement made by Charles-Marie Widor in 1899:

How interesting it would be if it were possible for us to consult a phonograph from the time of Molière or an Æolian contemporary with Bach! What uncertainties and errors could be avoided, for instance, if the distant echo of the Matthäus-Passion, conducted by the composer, could still reach us.
Is it not truly admirable to be able to record the interpretation of a musical work with absolute exactitude and to know that this record will remain as an unalterable document, a certain testimony, rigorously true today, which will not change tomorrow—the quintessential interpretation that will not vary for all eternity?2

But enough about the organists—it’s the patrons that got me going. One of the book’s appendices is an alphabetical list of those who purchased Aeolian organs (page 384). Another is an Opus List that includes the street addresses of Aeolian installations (page 319). Published lists don’t always make good reading, but when I started flipping back and forth between these two I started humming Mr. Rogers’ neighborhood song while in effect reading the Manhattan phone book!
With the help of these lists, I’ve imagined a walking tour of some very special residences, all home to Aeolian organs. Let’s start on the corner of Fifth Avenue and East 92nd Street in Manhattan. Central Park is on the west side of Fifth. When we stand with our backs to the Park we’re looking at the home of Felix Warburg. Mr. Warburg was in the diamond business, and was one of New York’s most enthusiastic musical patrons, serving as a member of the board of directors of both the Metropolitan Opera and the Philharmonic Society. In the 1930s he rescued many prominent Jews from Germany and supported the emigration of musicians such as Yehudi Menuhin and Jascha Heifetz.3 Mr. Warburg’s Aeolian organ (Opus 1054, II/22) was installed in 1909.
We walk south to 90th Street to find the residence of Andrew Carnegie. Inside is Aeolian’s Opus 895 with three manuals and 44 ranks, built in 1900.4 Mr. Carnegie, founder of the Carnegie Steel Corporation of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, was an active philanthropist whose generosity resulted in what is now Carnegie-Mellon University. His foundation was responsible for the construction of 2,509 public libraries throughout the English-speaking world.5 And since Mr. Carnegie believed that “music is a religion,” the Carnegie Organ Fund gave millions of dollars in matching grants to help build more than 8,800 pipe organs.6 Walter C. Gale was organist to the Carnegie family for seventeen years, arriving at the house at seven o’clock every morning they were in town. Mrs. Carnegie kept a log book of their Atlantic crossings in which she wrote about their return from Liverpool on December 10, 1901, driving directly to their new home to find “Mr. Gale playing the organ and the garden all covered in snow.”7 One door south from Mr. Carnegie is the residence of Jacob Ruppert8, brewing magnate (Knickerbocker Beer) and owner of the New York Yankees. Unfortunately Mr. Ruppert’s was not the complete household—no Aeolian organ. Still heading south, we cross East 89th Street and pass the Guggenheim Museum. At 990 Fifth Avenue (at 80th Street—two blocks south of the Metropolitan Museum of Art) we find the residence of Frank W. Woolworth who nickel-and-dimed himself into prominence with a chain of stores bearing his name. Mr. Woolworth was one of Aeolian’s best customers. His first instrument was #874 (II/16, 1899). In 1910 the organ at 990 5th Avenue was enlarged to three manuals and 37 ranks (Opus 1144). But why limit yourself to just a city organ? Mr. Woolworth installed Opus 1318 (II/23, 1915) in his second residence, which he called Winfield (his middle name) in Glen Cove (Long Island), New York. Winfield was destroyed by fire in 1916 but fortunately for the local trades and for the Aeolian company, it was rebuilt at three times the original cost, and Mr. Woolworth bought his fourth and largest Aeolian organ, Opus 1410 (IV/107).9 Installed in 1918, this grand organ included the first independent 32¢ Diapason in an Aeolian residence organ.10
Frank Woolworth was one of Aeolian’s few patrons who could actually play the organ. He was wholly devoted to Aeolian organs, to the company, and to the music it provided. His contract for Opus 874 included 50 rolls of his choosing and free membership in the Aeolian Music Library for three years to include an average of twelve rolls per week.11 When mentioning Aeolian rolls, it’s interesting to note that in 1904 the price of the roll-recording of Victor Herbert’s Symphonic Fantasy was $9.25 and a worker in the Aeolian factory earned $11 per week.12 Frank Taft, art director of the Aeolian Company, was one of Woolworth’s close friends. It was Mr. Taft who played the organ for Woolworth’s funeral at his home at 990 Fifth Avenue (Opus 1144) in April of 1919.13
Our tour continues six blocks south to the home of Simon B. Chapin at Fifth and 74th. I wouldn’t have recognized Mr. Chapin’s name without having had an encounter with his “country organ” several years ago. Mr. Chapin was a successful stockbroker. Among other pursuits, he invested his immense personal wealth in large and successful real estate ventures. Most notable among these was his partnership with Franklin Burroughs in the development of Myrtle Beach, South Carolina into a popular resort. The firm of Burroughs & Chapin developed the Seaside Inn (Myrtle Beach’s first oceanfront hotel), and the landmark Myrtle Beach Pavilion. The new shopping district was anchored by the Chapin Company General Store, and to this day Burroughs & Chapin is a prominent real estate development company. He built a lakefront vacation home in Lake Geneva, Wisconsin in 1898, about 75 feet from the shore. The house presents a 115-foot façade that includes a 55-foot screened porch. Aeolian’s Opus 1000 (II/18) was installed there in 1906. He must have been pleased with the instrument because that same year he purchased a two-manual instrument with 15 ranks for his home on Fifth Avenue (Opus 1018).14 One block further south on Fifth Avenue and a couple doors east on 73rd Street we find the home of newspaper publisher Joseph Pulitzer where Aeolian’s Opus 924 (II/13) was installed in 1902. Edward Rechlin was organist to the Pulitzer family, playing from 9:30 to 10:00 each evening they were in town. He was paid $20 an evening and $25 for a family wedding.15
Keep going east on 73rd Street, turn right on Madison and walk one block south to East 72nd and you’ll find the home of Louis Comfort Tiffany. Now this guy knew something about quality of design, and the folks at Aeolian must have been very pleased when Mr. Tiffany contracted for Opus 925 (II/12) in 1902. And once again, a city organ wasn’t enough—Aeolian’s Opus 1146 (II/27) was installed at Tiffany’s second home in Cold Spring Harbor, New York in 1910.16
By the way, Mr. Tiffany’s appreciation of the Aeolian organ was shared by his clients. The Dodge brothers, Horace and John, started their career building automobile chassis for the Ford Motor Company. It didn’t take them long to realize that they would make more money building entire cars, and they formed the company that still bears their name. They each had large Aeolian organs in their Michigan residences. Horace’s first organ was Opus 1175 (II/15) and his second was Opus 1319 (IV/80). John’s only Aeolian was Opus 1444 (III/76). Perhaps Horace was threatened by his brother catching up because in 1920 he purchased Opus 1478. With two manuals and 16 ranks, this organ was not so impressive by itself, but its setting certainly was. It was installed in his steam-powered yacht, the Delphine. The Delphine was 257 feet long, had five decks and a crew of 58, and its interior appointments were designed by Louis Tiffany. The organ was installed across from the fireplace in the walnut-paneled music room.17 It’s fun to imagine Mr. Tiffany and Mr. Dodge sharing their appreciation of the Aeolian organs at Tiffany’s drawing board over snifters of cognac.
From Louis Tiffany’s house, we walk two blocks south on Madison Avenue, then back west to Fifth Avenue, to the home of Henry Clay Frick, another steel industrialist from Pittsburgh. The Frick family moved to New York in 1905 and rented the William H. Vanderbilt residence on Fifth Avenue at East 51st Street (no organ). During this period they built a vacation home at Pride’s Crossing, Massachusetts, and Aeolian Opus 1008 (III/44) was installed there in 1906. Once that house was complete, the Frick family started building their own home in Manhattan at One East 70th Street, on the corner of Fifth Avenue, opposite Central Park. This home was graced by Aeolian 1263 (IV/72), which was shipped from the factory in March of 1914. Mr. Frick also donated an Aeolian organ (Opus 1334, IV/64) to Princeton University in 1915, where it was installed in Proctor Hall of the Graduate College.18
We’ve walked 24 blocks, and I’d like to show you one other organ. It’s a little too far to walk so we’ll take a cab. Charles Schwab, the first president of U.S. Steel, built his West Side home to occupy the entire block between 72nd and 73rd streets on Riverside Drive. With 90 bedrooms it was the largest residence in Manhattan, but Mr. Schwab started small in the Aeolian department—Opus 961 (1904) had only two manuals and 33 ranks. Perhaps he was inspired by his steel colleague Mr. Frick when he ordered the enlargement of the organ (Opus 1032, 1907) to four manuals and 66 ranks.19 We might imagine that Frick’s response was to up the ante with Opus 1263 (IV/72). Do you suppose that the man from Aeolian was encouraging these guys to outdo one another?
Our little tour has taken us past some of Manhattan’s grandest sites. Many of the homes I’ve mentioned have been replaced by modern high-rise luxury condominiums, but it’s fun to imagine a day when Fifth Avenue was dominated by some of the grandest single-family homes ever built. What was it about the Aeolian organ that excited the interest of this group? What extravagant home furnishings are available today that can compare to a $25,000 or $35,000 pipe organ built in 1910 or 1920? However we answer those questions, the Aeolian Company got it right for about 30 years. Then came the Great Depression.

Organs in the Land of Sunshine: A look at secular organs in Los Angeles, 1906–1930

James Lewis

James Lewis is an organist, organ historian and commercial photographer. He has researched the organs of California for over 35 years and has published articles on the subject in several periodicals. This article is a small section of a much larger text of a forthcoming book from the Organ Historical Society.

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Introduction
Los Angeles is home today to many wonderful organs. During the early twentieth century, pipe organs were constructed for spaces beyond the typical church, theater, or university setting. This article traces the histories of over a dozen pipe organs in private homes, social clubs, school and church auditoriums, and even a home furnishings store. It provides a glimpse of organbuilding—and life—in a more glamorous, pre-Depression age.

Temple Baptist Church
Come back in time to the spring of 1906, where we find the Temple Baptist Church of Los Angeles readying their new building for opening. Although the new complex was financed by a religious organization, it was not designed as a traditional church building. Architect Charles Whittlesey produced plans that included a 2700-seat theater auditorium with a full working stage, two smaller halls, and a nine-story office block, providing the burgeoning city with a venue for various entertainments and civic events, and Temple Church with facilities for church activities. Even though the official name of the building was Temple Auditorium, it was also known over the years as Clune’s Theatre and Philharmonic Auditorium. In addition to church services, the Auditorium was used for concerts, public meetings, ballet, silent motion pictures, and beginning in 1921, the Los Angeles Philharmonic Orchestra and the Light Opera Association.
It was the first steel-reinforced poured concrete structure in Los Angeles. The auditorium had five narrow balconies and was decorated in a simplified Art Nouveau-style influenced by Louis Sullivan’s Auditorium in Chicago. Color and gold leaf were liberally used, and the concentric rings of the ceiling over the orchestra section were covered with Sullivanesque ornamentation and studded with electric lights. Concealed behind this area, on either side of the stage, was the organ.
The Auditorium Company ordered a large four-manual organ (Opus 156) from the Austin Organ Company of Hartford, Connecticut. Similar to the auditorium itself, the instrument was used more for secular occasions than for church services. It was the first large, modern organ in Los Angeles and contained such innovations as second touch, high wind pressures, an array of orchestral voices, and an all-electric, movable console with adjustable combination action.
The instrument had a partially enclosed Great division, with a large selection of 8′ stops that included four 8′ Open Diapasons. Second touch was available on the Swell keyboard through a Great to Swell coupler. The Choir division was labeled Orchestral and contained a variety of soft string and flute stops along with three orchestral reeds. The Solo division was on 25″ wind pressure and unenclosed except for the Harmonic Tuba, unified to play at 16′, 8′ and 4′ pitches. 25″ wind pressure was also used in the Pedal division for the Magnaton stop, playable at 32′ and 16′. An article about the Auditorium in the Architectural Record magazine stated “the roof is reinforced with steel so that the tones of the large organ will not cause any structural damage.”1 A mighty organ, indeed!
The four-manual console was located in the orchestra pit and movable within a range of 50 feet. Its design was influenced by the early consoles of Robert Hope-Jones and featured two rows of stop keys placed above the top keyboard, a style affectionately known as a “toothbrush console,” because to an active imagination the two rows of stop keys looked like the rows of bristles on a toothbrush.
In 1912, Dr. Ray Hastings (1880–1940) was appointed house organist, and he played for church services, silent motion pictures, radio broadcasts, public recitals, and with the Los Angeles Philharmonic Orchestra.2
Temple Auditorium and its mighty Austin organ served Los Angeles for many years, but by the 1950s the place was beginning to look a bit tired. Sometime after World War II, the interior was painted a ghastly shade of green, covering up all the color and gold of the original decorative scheme. In 1965 the Philharmonic Orchestra and Light Opera both moved to the new Los Angeles Music Center and the Auditorium never again operated as a theater.
The organ began to develop serious wind leaks, and the 25″-wind-pressure Solo division and Pedal Magnaton were finally disconnected. A supply-house console replaced the original Austin console in the 1960s and was moved out of the orchestra pit to the stage.
Sunday morning services of Temple Baptist Church became sparsely attended as people moved out of Los Angeles to the new suburbs. There did not seem to be any use for the old Auditorium, and the complex finally succumbed to the wrecker’s ball in 1985. The pipework from the Austin organ was sold off piecemeal and the chests were left in the chambers to come down with the demolition of the building. What began as Los Angeles’s first, modern organ of the 20th-century came to an ignominious end.

Temple Auditorium, Los Angeles
Austin Organ Company, 1906, Opus 156

GREAT
(unenclosed)

16′ Major Diapason
16′ Contra Dulciana
8′ First Diapason
8′ Second Diapason
8′ Third Diapason
8′ Gross Flute
8′ Claribel Flute
4′ Octave
4′ Hohl Flute
3′ Twelfth
2′ Fifteenth
(enclosed)
8′ Horn Diapason
8′ Violoncello
8′ Viol d’Amour
8′ Doppel Flute
4′ Fugara
III Mixture
16′ Double Trumpet
8′ Trumpet
4′ Clarion

SWELL
16′ Gross Gamba
8′ Diapason Phonon
8′ Violin Diapason
8′ Gemshorn
8′ Echo Viole
8′ Vox Angelica
8′ Gemshorn
8′ Rohr Flute
8′ Flauto Dolce
8′ Unda Maris
8′ Quintadena
4′ Principal
4′ Harmonic Flute
2′ Flageolet
III Dolce Cornet
16′ Contra Posaune
8′ Cornopean
8′ Oboe
8′ Vox Humana
Tremolo
Vox Humana Tremolo

ORCHESTRAL
16′ Contra Viole
8′ Geigen Principal
8′ Viole d’Orchestre
8′ Viole Celeste
8′ Vox Seraphique
8′ Concert Flute
8′ Lieblich Gedackt
4′ Violina
4′ Flauto Traverso
2′ Piccolo Harmonique
16′ Double Oboe Horn
8′ Clarinet
8′ Cor Anglais
Tremolo

SOLO
8′ Grand Diapason
8′ Flauto Major
8′ Gross Gamba
4′ Gambette
4′ Flute Ouverte
2′ Super Octave
8′ Orchestral Oboe
8′ Saxophone (synthetic)
16′ Tuba Profunda
8′ Harmonic Tuba (ext)
4′ Clarion (ext)

PEDAL
32′ Contra Magnaton
32′ Resultant
16′ Magnaton
16′ Major Diapason
16′ Small Diapason (Gt)
16′ Violone
16′ Bourdon
16′ Dulciana (Gt)
16′ Contra Viole (Orch)
8′ Gross Flute
8′ ‘Cello
8′ Flauto Dolce
4′ Super Octave
16′ Tuba Profunda (Solo)
8′ Tuba (Solo)

Swell Sub
Swell Octave
Orchestral Sub
Orchestral Octave
Solo Sub
Solo Super
Swell to Pedal
Swell to Pedal Octave
Great to Pedal
Orchestral to Pedal
Solo to Pedal
Swell to Great Sub
Swell to Great Unison
Swell to Great Octave
Orchestral to Great Sub
Orchestral to Great Unison
Solo to Great Unison
Solo to Great Octave
Great to Swell Unison Second Touch
Swell to Orchestral Sub
Swell to Orchestral Unison
Swell to Orchestral Octave
Solo to Orchestral Unison

Tally’s Broadway Theatre
Eight years after the Temple Auditorium organ was installed, Tally’s Broadway Theatre took delivery on a four-manual organ advertised as “The World’s Finest Theatre Pipe Organ.” The 47-rank organ had been ordered early in 1913 from the Los Angeles builder Murray M. Harris, but by the time it was installed in 1914 the name of the firm had been changed to the Johnston Organ Company and the factory moved to the nearby suburb of Van Nuys.
Tally’s instrument must have been the original “surround sound,” as most of the pipework was installed in shallow chambers extending down both sides of the rectangular-shaped auditorium. The Choir division was on the stage and had its own façade, while the Echo was behind a grille at one side of the stage. Positioned on a lift in the orchestra pit, the four-manual drawknob console was equipped with a roll player.
This was not the sort of theatre organ that would come into prominence during the 1920s, a highly unified instrument full of color stops all blended together by numerous tremolos. Tally’s organ was not that much different from a Murray M. Harris church organ, except for the saucer bells and a lack of upperwork.
Installation was still underway when it came time for the opening concert, but since the show must go on, the event took place. A reviewer wrote “while the unfinished and badly out of tune instrument, under the skillful manipulation of an excellent performer, did give pleasure to a large portion of the big audience, nevertheless it was an unfinished and badly out of tune instrument and as such it could not favorably impress the ear of the critic.”3
Charles Demorest, a former student of Harrison Wild in Chicago, who played at Tally’s, was also the organist at the Third Church of Christ, Scientist, and gave Monday afternoon recitals on the organ in Hamburger’s department store. In the May, 1914 edition of The Pacific Coast Musician it was mentioned that “Charles Demorest is doing much to uphold good music for the motion picture theatres by the quality of his organ work at Tally’s Broadway Theatre, Los Angeles, where he has a concert organ of immense resources at his command. This instrument is a four-manual organ equipped with chimes, saucer bells, concert harp and echo organ. Mr. Demorest plays a special program every Wednesday afternoon at four o’clock where an orchestra and soloists further contribute to the excellence at the Tally Theatre.”4
In the mid-1920s, the May Company department store next door to Tally’s was doing a booming business and needed larger quarters. Negotiations with Tally led to the theater being purchased and torn down to make way for a greatly expanded May Company building. The organ was crated up and moved to Mr. Tally’s Glen Ranch, where it was stored in a barn. It was eventually ruined by water damage when the roof leaked.

Tally’s Broadway Theatre
Johnston Organ Company, 1914

GREAT
16′ Double Open Diapason
8′ First Open Diapason
8′ Second Open Diapason
8′ Viola
8′ Viol d’Amour
8′ Tibia Clausa
8′ Clarabella
4′ Octave
4′ Wald Flute
8′ Trumpet
Cathedral Chimes
Concert Harp
Saucer Bells

SWELL
16′ Bourdon
8′ Open Diapason
8′ Violin Diapason
8′ Violin
8′ Voix Celeste
8′ Aeoline
8′ Stopped Flute
4′ Harmonic Flute
2′ Harmonic Piccolo
16′ Contra Fagotto
8′ Horn
8′ Oboe
8′ Vox Humana

CHOIR
16′ Double Dulciana
8′ Geigen Principal
8′ Dulciana
8′ Lieblich Gedackt
8′ Quintadena
4′ Dulcet
8′ Clarinet

SOLO
8′ Diapason Phonon
8′ Harmonic Flute
8′ Tibia Plena
8′ Harmonic Tuba
8′ Orchestral Oboe

ECHO
8′ Flauto Dolce
8′ Unda Maris
8′ Concert Flute
8′ Orchestral Viol
4′ Flute d’Amour
8′ Vox Mystica

PEDAL
32′ Acoustic Bass
16′ Open Diapason
16′ Bourdon
16′ Contra Basso (Gt)
16′ Dulciana (Ch)
16′ Lieblich Gedackt (Sw)
8′ Violoncello
8′ Gross Flute
8′ Flute
16′ Trombone

Swell Tremolo
Choir Tremolo
Solo Tremolo
Echo Tremolo

Trinity Auditorium
In 1914, inspired perhaps by the success of Temple Auditorium, Trinity Southern Methodist Church opened their new Trinity Auditorium, a large Beaux Arts structure on South Grand Avenue containing a multi-use 1500-seat auditorium and a nine-story hotel with rooftop ballroom.
An organ was ordered from the Murray M. Harris Company, but just like the Tally’s Theatre organ, it was installed under the name of the Johnston Organ Company. The organ was a four-manual instrument of 63 ranks situated above the stage floor, but within the proscenium arch, with an Echo division in the dome at the center of the room. The drawknob console was at one side of the orchestra pit.
The tonal design was typical of a large, late Murray Harris organ, boasting an assortment of 8′ stops and big chorus reeds on both the Great and Solo, but without the usual Great mixture. The Tibias, Diapason Phonon in the Swell and the slim-scale strings of the Solo division, stops not normally found on Harris organs, show the influence of Stanley Williams, the firm’s voicer since 1911, who had worked with Hope-Jones in England.
Arthur Blakeley was house organist and played for church services, silent motion pictures, weekly public recitals and with the Los Angeles Philharmonic Orchestra, who used the building from 1918 to 1921. It was noted that by May 1915, Blakeley had provided music for 108 performances of a film entitled “Cabiria” and played over one hundred different compositions in his weekly recitals, ranging from works by Bach, Handel and Wagner to Reubke’s Sonata on the 94th Psalm.5
There was one area in which Trinity Auditorium failed to emulate Temple Auditorium—financing. To construct the auditorium and hotel complex the church secured such a heavy mortgage that one newspaper account claimed it was financed clear into the 21st century. A few years after it opened, Trinity Auditorium was taken over by a management company that continued to operate it as a public venue, and the church moved to humbler quarters.
Trinity Auditorium was a popular place for meetings of the local AGO chapter, and among the artists heard there were Pietro Yon, Charles Courboin, and Clarence Eddy. The organ continued to be used for films, concerts and later on, radio broadcasts, but by the 1940s it had become a liability. To save the expense of upkeep on an instrument that by then was only occasionally used and to secure more space on the stage, the organ was removed and broken up for parts.

Trinity Auditorium
Johnston Organ Company, 1914

GREAT
16′ Double Open Diapason
8′ First Open Diapason
8′ Second Open Diapason
8′ Viola di Gamba
8′ Viol d’Amour
8′ Tibia Clausa
8′ Doppel Floete
4′ Octave
4′ Harmonic Flute
22⁄3′ Octave Quint
2′ Super Octave
16′ Double Trumpet
8′ Trumpet
4′ Clarion
Cathedral Chimes

SWELL
16′ Lieblich Bourdon
8′ Diapason Phonon
8′ Violin Diapason
8′ Salicional
8′ Aeoline
8′ Vox Celeste
8′ Lieblich Gedackt
8′ Clarabella
4′ Principal
4′ Lieblich Floete
4′ Violina
2′ Harmonic Piccolo
IV Dolce Cornet
16′ Contra Fagotto
8′ Cornopean
8′ Oboe
Tremolo

CHOIR
16′ Double Dulciana
8′ Geigen Principal
8′ Dulciana
8′ Quintadena
8′ Melodia
4′ Wald Floete
4′ Dulcet
8′ Clarinet
Tremolo
Concert Harp

SOLO
8′ Gross Gamba
8′ Tibia Plena
8′ Harmonic Flute
8′ Viole d’Orchestre
8′ Viole Celeste
16′ Ophicleide
8′ Tuba
4′ Tuba Clarion

ECHO
16′ Echo Bourdon
8′ Echo Diapason
8′ Viol Etheria
8′ Unda Maris
8′ Concert Flute
4′ Flauto Traverso
8′ Vox Humana
Tremolo
Concert Harp (Ch)

PEDAL
32′ Double Open Diapason
32′ Resultant
16′ Open Diapason
16′ Violone
16′ Tibia Profundo
16′ Bourdon
16′ Lieblich Gedackt (Sw)
16′ Dulciana (Ch)
16′ Echo Bourdon (Echo)
8′ Octave
8′ Violoncello
8′ Flute
16′ Trombone
16′ Ophicleide (Solo)
8′ Tuba (Solo)

University of Southern California
In 1920, the University of Southern California placed an order for a large concert organ to be built by the Robert-Morton Organ Company and installed in the new Bovard Auditorium on the USC campus. Under a headline reading “Organ Attracts,” the Los Angeles Times told that “a great increase of interest is being manifested by the faculty and student body of the organ department, USC, since the announcement was recently made that the new organ, one of the largest in the southwest, is soon to be installed in the auditorium of that institution. The instrument will be provided with eighty stops and 500 pipes.”6 Well, perhaps a few more than 500!
Bovard is a large auditorium graced with a dollop of Gothic tracery, originally seating 2,100 on the main floor and in two balconies. The Robert-Morton organ, the largest instrument built by the firm, was located in concrete chambers on either side of the stage and completely enclosed, except for the 16′ Pedal Bourdon. It was not an ideal installation, as the Swell and Choir divisions were placed so they spoke onto the stage area and the Great and Solo were located in the auditorium proper. For organ recitals, the stage curtains had to be open so the audience could hear the entire instrument.
By 1920, the builder no longer made drawknob consoles, so the Bovard organ was supplied with a four-manual horseshoe console. It was placed in the orchestra pit and had color-coded stop keys; diapasons were white, flutes blue, strings amber, reeds red, and the couplers were short-length black stop keys placed over the top keyboard.7
The organ had two enormous 32′ stops. When the instrument was completed at the Van Nuys factory, low C of the 32′ Bombarde was assembled outside the main building and supplied with air so that its sound could be demonstrated for the local residents.
In June of 1921, the organ was dedicated in two recitals given by the British virtuoso Edwin Lemare. It was a well-used instrument in its day, providing music for university events, concerts, commencement exercises, and it served as the major practice and recital organ for many USC organ students.
By the mid-1970s the organ had fallen out of favor and some of the pipework was vandalized by students, causing the instrument to become unplayable. It was finally removed from the auditorium in 1978, and the undamaged pipework was sold for use in other organs.

University of Southern California
Robert-Morton Organ Company, 1921

GREAT
16′ Double Open Diapason
8′ First Open Diapason
8′ Second Open Diapason
8′ Third Open Diapason
8′ Viola
8′ Erzahler
8′ Doppel Flute
8′ Melodia
4′ Octave
4′ Wald Floete
2′ Flageolet
V Mixture
16′ Double Trumpet
8′ Trumpet
4′ Clarion

SWELL
16′ Bourdon
8′ Open Diapason
8′ Horn Diapason
8′ Salicional
8′ Celeste
8′ Aeoline
8′ Viol d’Orchestre
8′ Viol Celeste
8′ Stopped Diapason
8′ Clarabella
8′ Gemshorn
4′ Violin
4′ Harmonic Flute
2′ Piccolo
III Cornet
16′ Contra Fagotto
8′ Cornopean
8′ Flugel Horn
8′ Oboe
8′ Vox Humana
4′ Clarion
Tremolo

CHOIR
16′ Contra Viole
8′ Geigen Principal
8′ Dulciana
8′ Quintadena
8′ Concert Flute
8′ Flute Celeste
4′ Flute
22⁄3′ Nazard
2′ Piccolo

SOLO
8′ Stentorphone
8′ Gross Flute
8′ Gamba
8′ Gamba Celeste
8′ French Horn
8′ English Horn
8′ Saxophone
8′ Clarinet
8′ Orchestral Oboe
8′ Tuba
Harp
Chimes

ECHO
8′ Cor de Nuit
8′ Muted Viole
8′ Viole Celeste
4′ Zauberfloete
8′ Vox Humana
Tremolo

PEDAL
32′ Double Open Diapason
32′ Resultant
16′ Open Diapason
16′ Bourdon
16′ Violone (Gt)
16′ Lieblich Bourdon (Sw)
16′ Contra Viole (Ch)
16′ Echo Bourdon
8′ Principal
8′ Flute
8′ Cello
8′ Dulciana
4′ Flute
Compensating Mixture
32′ Bombarde
16′ Trombone
16′ Fagotto (Sw)
8′ Trumpet

Grauman’s Metropolitan Theatre
When Grauman’s Metropolitan Theatre was constructed at Sixth and Hill Streets in 1923, Tally’s Broadway Theatre must have looked rather dowdy in comparison. The Metropolitan, a monumental piece of architecture, was and remained the largest theater in Los Angeles and had a four-manual, 36-rank Wurlitzer Hope-Jones Unit Orchestra, Opus #543. This was the largest organ built by Wurlitzer at the time, beating out the celebrated Denver Auditorium organ by one rank. The 36 ranks of pipes were divided between two sections of the theater: 24 ranks in chambers located over the proscenium arch and 12 ranks in the Echo division at the rear of the balcony. Albert Hay Malotte, Gaylord Carter and Alexander Schreiner were Metropolitan organists at various times, accompanying films and presenting organ solos enhanced by lighting subtly changing color to match the mood of the music.
James Nuttall, who installed the organ, escorted a writer for the Los Angeles Times through the newly installed instrument and provided a description of its resources:
The tonal chambers, or swell boxes as they are technically termed, each measure 20 feet long and 11 feet wide, and are arranged above the proscenium arch. They are constructed in such a manner that they are practically sound proof, being built of nonporous inert material, with the interior finished in hard plaster. The front wall of each chamber facing the auditorium is left open and into this opening is fitted a mechanism built in the form of a large laminated Venetian blind. The opening and closing of the shutters in this Venetian blind produce unlimited dynamic tonal expression from the softest whisper to an almost overwhelming volume.
In the basement of the theatre is the blowing apparatus consisting of two Kinetic blowers connected directly to a twenty-five horsepower motor. Each of the blowers is capable of supplying 2500 cubic feet compressed air per minute. The compressed air is used to work the electro-pneumatic actions as well as to supply the various tone producers.
There are four manuals on the console, and the pedal board on which the bass notes are played with the feet. The stop keys number 236 and these are arranged above the keyboards on three tiers and are divided into departments of independent organs. The lowest manual is the accompaniment organ, the middle keyboard is the great organ and is so arranged so the echo organ may be played from this manual. The third manual is a bombarde organ and the top one is the solo organ.8

Although the advent of sound motion pictures silenced many of the organs in Los Angeles theaters, the Metropolitan organ was in use much longer due to the continuation of live stage shows well into the 1950s. In 1960 the theater was closed and by 1961 it had been demolished and the organ broken up for parts.

Poly-Technic High School
Poly-Technic High School was one of several high schools in the Los Angeles area to have a pipe organ. For their new auditorium, completed in 1924, the school ordered a four-manual organ from the Estey Organ Company. Decorated in the Spanish Renaissance style, the auditorium seated 1,800 and had a full working stage. The organ was installed in chambers located on either side of the proscenium, with the console in the orchestra pit.
The instrument had an automatic roll player in a separate cabinet and a console with Estey’s recent invention, the “luminous piston stop control.” These were lighted buttons placed in rows above the top manual of the console. When pushed, the button lit up signifying that that particular stop was on. Another push turned the stop off. This system presented all sorts of problems; it was inconvenient to use, the “luminous piston” was difficult to see under bright lights, it could give an organist a very nasty shock, and some organists could not resist spelling out naughty words with the lights.
The organ had a clear, pleasant sound in the auditorium’s good acoustics due possibly to Estey’s local representative Charles McQuigg, a former voicer of the Murray M. Harris Company, who installed and finished the instrument. Crowning the full organ was a reedless Tuba Mirabilis voiced on 15″ wind pressure, an invention of William Haskell of the Estey Company. The pipes looked like an open wood flute, but sounded like a stringy Horn Diapason. It was a rather convincing sound, until one knew the secret.
Classes in organ instruction were offered at Poly High, the instrument was used for recitals and public events held in the auditorium, and the roll player was used to play transcriptions of orchestral works for music education classes.
The organ eventually fell silent due to lack of use, lack of maintenance, and problems with the luminous pistons. When the auditorium was refurbished in 1979, the organ was removed so that the chamber openings could be used for stage lighting trees. It was sold, put into storage, and eventually broken up for parts.

Poly-Technic High School
Estey Organ Company, 1924, Opus 2225

GREAT
8′ Open Diapason I
8′ Open Diapason II
8′ Dulciana
8′ Gemshorn
8′ Gross Flute
8′ Melodia
4′ Flute Harmonic
8′ Tuba
Harp

SWELL
16′ Bourdon
8′ Open Diapason
8′ Salicional
8′ Viole d’Orchestre
8′ Viole Celeste
8′ Stopped Diapason
4′ Flauto Traverso
8′ Oboe (reedless)
8′ Cornopean
8′ Vox Humana
Tremolo
Chimes

CHOIR
8′ Violin Diapason
8′ Viol d’Amour
8′ Clarabella
8′ Unda Maris
4′ Flute d’Amour
8′ Clarinet (reedless)
Tremolo

SOLO
8′ Stentorphone
8′ Gross Gamba
8′ First Violins III
8′ Concert Flute
4′ Wald Flute
2′ Piccolo
8′ Orchestral Oboe
8′ Tuba Mirabilis (reedless)

PEDAL
32′ Resultant
16′ Open Diapason
16′ Bourdon
16′ Lieblich Gedackt (Sw)
8′ Bass Flute
8′ Tuba Mirabilis (Solo)

The Uplifter’s Club
One of a number of organs installed in Los Angeles’s private clubs was this instrument built by the Skinner Organ Company in 1924 for the Uplifter’s Club. Located in the remote Santa Monica Canyon section of Los Angeles, the club was formed in 1913 as a splinter group of the Los Angeles Athletic Club by a number of wealthy members, for “high jinx.”9 Recreational facilities were constructed in the canyon and some members built cabins and cottages to use for weekend retreats.
In 1923 construction on a large clubhouse began and in 1924 the three-manual Skinner organ was installed. The instrument was a large residence-style organ with many duplexed stops and a roll player mechanism. The organ provided music for the relaxation of members, music for skits and plays, and occasionally a local organist was invited in to play a recital of light selections.
During World War II the club began selling off its holdings, and by 1947, it had disbanded. The organ was sold to the First Methodist Church of Glendale, where it was treated to a number of indignities to make the instrument more suitable for church use, the result being at great odds with the original intent of the organ.

The Uplifter’s Club
Skinner Organ Company, 1924, Opus 449

MANUAL I
8′ Diapason
8′ Chimney Flute
8′ Gedackt
8′ Violoncello
8′ Voix Celestes II rks
8′ Flute Celestes II rks
4′ Orchestral Flute
4′ Unda Maris II rks
8′ Vox Humana
8′ French Horn
8′ Tuba
Tremolo
Harp
Celesta
Chimes
Kettle Drums

MANUAL II
8′ Chimney Flute
8′ Violoncello
4′ Orchestral Flute
8′ Corno d’Amore
8′ English Horn
8′ Vox Humana
8′ French Horn
8′ Tuba
Tremolo
Chimes
Kettle Drums

MANUAL III
8′ Diapason
8′ Voix Celestes II rks
8′ Flute Celestes II rks
8′ Gedackt
4′ Unda Maris II rks
Tremolo
Harp
Celesta
Piano (prepared)

PEDAL
16′ Bourdon
16′ Echo Lieblich
16′ Gedackt
8′ Still Gedackt
16′ Trombone (Tuba)

The Elks Club
Located just off the fashionable Wilshire Corridor facing Westlake Park was the Elks Club, a 12-story building constructed in 1926 to contain a lodge hall, dining rooms, lounges, swimming pool, tennis and racquetball courts, a full gymnasium, and residential facilities for members. Entering the building, one encountered a monumental reception hall some 50 feet in height, with a vaulted ceiling painted with scenes from mythology. A wide staircase rose dramatically to the Memorial Room that functioned as a lobby for the lodge room.
On the front page of the Van Nuys News for November 18, 1924 was an article announcing “H. P. Platt, manager of the Robert-Morton Organ Company, announces that his concern has been awarded a contract for constructing a huge pipe organ to be placed in the new Elks Temple of Los Angeles. Specifications for the huge organ will make it the largest unified orchestra pipe organ in the United States. The contract price was said to be $50,000.”
“Unified orchestra pipe organ” is probably the best description for the four-manual, 60-rank organ that the Robert-Morton firm installed in the Elks Club in 1926. The stops are divided into Great, Swell, Choir, Solo and Pedal divisions, but the contents of each are not what one would expect in either a concert or theatre organ.
The main organ is in four chambers, one in each corner of the lodge room, with Echo and Antiphonal divisions speaking through openings centered over the entrance doors. These two divisions were heard in either the lodge room or the Memorial Room by means of dual expression shades. A two-manual console in the Memorial Room played the Echo/Antiphonal divisions so an organist could entertain lodge members lingering in the Memorial area before a meeting without the sound penetrating into the lodge room.
Currently, the instrument is unplayable. The two-manual console has been disconnected and although the four-manual console remains in position, over half of the ivories are missing. Workmen stomping through the pipe chambers on various occasions have trod on many of the smaller pipes, a few sets are missing, and water leaks have damaged other portions of the organ.
Stepping back in time to happier days, we can read about the organ when it was the talk of organ-playing Los Angeles. In December, 1925, a Los Angeles newspaper reported “the new $50,000 organ for the Elk’s great temple will be given its official test before officers of the Elk’s Building Association tomorrow evening. The test recital will be at the plant of the Robert-Morton Organ Company, builders of the instrument. For the benefit of members of the lodge and the public, the recital will be broadcast over KNX radio between 7 and 7:30 o’clock. A half an hour of cathedral and concert music will be played on the huge instrument by Sibley Pease, official organist of the Elk’s lodge.”10
In May 1926, Warren Allen, organist of Stanford University, gave the opening recital, playing compositions by Bach, Boccherini, Saint-Saëns, Douglas, Wagner and ending with the Finale from Vierne’s Symphony No. 1. A reviewer noted that “the organ is an instrument of concert resources and full organ is almost overpowering in tone. It ranks as one of the finest in the city.”11
For many years the organ was used almost every day of the week for lodge meetings, concerts and radio broadcasts. Dwindling membership and the expense of upkeep on the huge Elks building caused the remaining members to find smaller quarters in the late 1960s. Left abandoned for a while, the building has seen use as a YMCA, a retirement center, and a seedy hotel; it is currently being rented for large social events and filming. Due to the extensive damage done to the organ and the great expense of a restoration, this is probably another large, once-popular instrument that will never play again.

Elks Temple, Los Angeles
Robert-Morton Organ Company, 1926

GREAT
16′ Open Diapason
16′ Gamba (TC)
8′ First Diapason
8′ Second Diapason
8′ Tuba
8′ French Horn
8′ Kinura
8′ Gross Flute
8′ Clarinet
8′ Doppel Flute
8′ Gamba
8′ Violin I
8′ Violin II
8′ Violin III
8′ Quintadena
8′ Dulciana
4′ Tuba Clarion
4′ Octave Diapason
4′ Doppel Flute
22⁄3′ Twelfth
2′ Fifteenth
III Cornet
Harp
Glockenspiel
Xylophone
Chimes
Strings F
Great 2nd Touch
8′ Tuba
8′ French Horn
8′ Gross Flute
8′ Gamba

SWELL
16′ Contra Fagotto
16′ Tibia Clausa
16′ Swell Bourdon
16′ Violin (TC)
8′ Trumpet
8′ Open Diapason
8′ Violin
8′ Tibia Mollis
8′ Tibia Clausa
8′ Gedackt
8′ Orchestral Oboe
8′ Vox Humana
8′ Violin I
8′ Violin II
8′ Violin III
8′ Viol d’Orchestre
8′ Viole Celeste
8′ Salicional
8′ Aeoline
4′ Octave Diapason
4′ Tibia Clausa
4′ Bourdon Flute
4′ Flauto Traverso
4′ Vox Humana
4′ Violina
4′ Salicet
22⁄3′ Bourdon Nazard
2′ Bourdon Piccolo
Harp
Glockenspiel
Xylophone
Chimes
Bird
Strings P
Strings MF
Swell 2nd Touch
16′ Fagotto
16′ Trumpet (TC)
16′ Bourdon
8′ Tibia Clausa
4′ Flauto Traverso

CHOIR
16′ Violin (TC)
16′ Double Dulciana
8′ English Diapason
8′ Flugel Horn
8′ Clarabella
8′ Clarinet
8′ Gemshorn
8′ Viola
8′ Violin I
8′ Violin II
8′ Violin III
8′ Dulciana
8′ Unda Maris
4′ Harmonic Flute
4′ Violina
4′ Dulcet
2′ Flageolet
2′ Dolcissimo
Snare Drum Tap
Snare Drum Roll
Tom-Tom
Castanets
Sleigh Bells
Wood Drum
Tambourine
Strings F
Choir 2nd Touch
8′ English Diapason
8′ Flugel Horn
8′ Clarabella
8′ Clarinet

SOLO
8′ Tuba Mirabilis
8′ Stentorphone
8′ Philomela
8′ Gross Gamba
8′ Oboe Horn
4′ Tuba Clarion
4′ Gambette
Chimes

ANTIPHONAL
8′ Trumpet
8′ Open Diapason
8′ Hohl Flute

ECHO
16′ Echo Bourdon
8′ Night Horn
8′ Flute Celeste
8′ Viol Sordino
8′ Vox Humana
4′ Fern Flute
4′ Violetta
Bird

PEDAL
32′ Resultant Bass
16′ Double Open Diapason
16′ Trombone
16′ Pedal Bourdon
16′ Swell Bourdon
16′ Echo Bourdon
16′ Contra Fagotto
16′ Violone
16′ Dulciana
8′ Open Diapason
8′ Tuba
8′ Pedal Flute
8′ Doppel Flute
8′ Echo Bourdon
8′ Cello
8′ Dulciana
4′ Tuba Clarion
4′ Dulcet
III Cornet

Pedal 2nd touch
Bass Drum
Snare Drum
Tympani
Bass Drum/Cymbal
Buttons Above Solo
Klaxon
Telephone
Cow Bell
Bird
Tremolos
Swell
Great
Choir
Solo
Antiphonal
Echo
Swell Vox Humana
Echo Vox Humana
Couplers
Pedal Octaves
Great to Pedal 8, 4
Swell to Pedal 8, 4
Choir to Pedal 8
Solo to Pedal 8
Swell to Swell 16, 4
Choir to Swell 16, 8, 4
Solo to Swell 16, 8, 4
Great to Great 16, 4
Swell to Great 16, 8, 4
Choir to Great 16, 8, 4
Solo to Great 16, 8, 4
Choir to Choir 16, 4
Swell to Choir 16, 8, 4
Solo to Solo 16, 4

Barker Brothers
Barker Brothers, the pre-eminent home furnishings store of Los Angeles, moved into a new building in 1927. Occupying all of 7th Street between Flower and Figueroa Streets, the 12-story façade was in Renaissance Revival style and loosely patterned after the Strozzi Palace in Florence. Entering through the main doors, the visitor stepped into a 40′ high lobby court furnished with leather sofas and chairs, oriental carpets, and a decorated vaulted ceiling.
During the 1920s, Barker Brothers served as the southern California representative for the Welte Organ Company. Their previous store had a Welte organ used to entertain customers, and when Barkers moved out, the instrument was rebuilt into two organs; the main section went, with a new console, to the Pasadena home of Baldwin M. Baldwin, and the Echo division, also provided with a new console, was packed off to Mrs. Belle Malloy in San Pedro.
Barker Brothers’ new store had three Welte organs. In the lobby court was a four-manual, 26-rank concert organ that was played daily for the store’s patrons. The four-manual drawknob console was centered along the east side of the lobby and the chamber openings high on the wall had gold display pipes. A three-manual, nine-rank theatre-style instrument was in a 600-seat auditorium on the 10th floor, and a two-manual, 10-rank organ with player attachment was installed in the interior design studio.
On the evening of March 28, 1927, the three Welte organs were dedicated, beginning with the instrument in the lobby court and then moving to the auditorium organ, where members of the Los Angeles Organists’ Club entertained. Guests were invited to hear the residence organ in the interior design department and enjoy the automatic roll player device.
Among the organists playing the lobby court organ on that evening were Albert Hay Malotte and Alexander Schreiner. Malotte played Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue and the quartet from Verdi’s Rigoletto, but Schreiner no doubt stole the show when he played the “Great” g-minor fugue of Bach and closed the program with Wagner’s Ride of the Valkyries.12
The lobby court organ was very popular with Los Angeles residents and the daily recitals were well attended. Welte designed the instrument for maximum flexibility; the Great and Choir shared stops, while the Swell and Solo were independent divisions, except for the Great Tuba Sonora that was available on the Solo at 16′, 8′ and 4′ pitches.
When the Welte Organ Company closed in 1931, the residence organ was sold to a home in the Brentwood section of the city. The auditorium instrument was eventually sold to the Presbyterian Church in La Canada, but the lobby court organ was kept in use until the early 1950s. After the Second World War, the daily organ recitals were popular with older folks who lived in affordable but respectable downtown residential hotels. The store management felt having pensioners strewn about the lobby lowered the tone of their upscale operation and removed the organ in 1955, selling the console to a private party and the pipe work to a local church.
There was a more insidious reason for removing the Welte organ. Barker Brothers had become the local agents for the new Hammond Chord Organ and didn’t want competition from the “real thing” while an employee was demonstrating the new electric device. The Los Angeles Times for May 12, 1955 announced: “A musical tradition at Barker Bros. has been broken! Barker Bros. pipe organ of some 30 odd years vintage is no longer the cornerstone of the store’s tradition. One fine day it was an impressive part of the main lobby and the next day, the massive monolith was a legend. A compact, sweet little number, modern in design and execution, has replaced the pipe organ. The Hammond Chord Organ now reigns supreme. A representative from Barker’s Piano Salon on the mezzanine floor is in daily attendance at his Chord Organ post.”

Barker Brothers Store
Lobby Court Organ
Welte Organ Company, 1927

GREAT
16′ Double Open Diapason
8′ Principal Diapason
8′ English Diapason
8′ Tibia Minor
8′ Claribel Flute
8′ Viola
4′ Octave
4′ Forest Flute
8′ Tuba Sonora
Harp
Celesta
Piano

SWELL
16′ Lieblich Gedackt
8′ Diapason Phonon
8′ Philomela
8′ Gedackt
8′ Violin II rks
8′ Solo Violin
8′ Salicional
8′ Vox Angelica
4′ Chimney Flute
22⁄3′ Nazard
2′ Flautino
13⁄5′ Tierce
16′ Contra Fagotto
8′ Trumpet
8′ Oboe Horn
8′ Vox Humana
4′ Octave Oboe
Tremolo
Vox Humana Vibrato
Harp
Celesta
Piano

CHOIR
16′ Contra Viol
8′ English Diapason
8′ Tibia Minor
8′ Claribel Flute
8′ Flute Celeste
8′ Viola
8′ Muted Violin
8′ Voix Celeste
8′ Viola
4′ Traverse Flute
2′ Piccolo
8′ Clarinet
Tremolo
Choir 2nd Touch
8′ Principal Diapason
8′ Tibia Minor
8′ Tuba Sonora
8′ Clarinet
Celesta
Chimes
Solo to Choir
Swell to Choir

SOLO
8′ Tibia Clausa
8′ Violoncello
4′ Harmonic Flute
16′ Tuba Profunda
8′ Tuba Sonora
8′ French Horn
8′ English Horn
4′ Cornet
Tremolo
Harp
Celesta
Chimes
Piano

PEDAL
32′ Acoustic Bass
16′ Diaphonic Diapason
16′ Bourdon
16′ Violone (Gt)
16′ Lieblich Gedackt (Sw)
8′ Octave
8′ Flute
8′ Cello (Gt)
8′ Gedackt (Sw)
16′ Tuba Profunda (Solo)
8′ Tuba Sonora (Solo)
4′ Cornet (Solo)
16′ Piano
8′ Piano
Chimes

Organ studios, residences,
theaters

During the 1920s, many American organ builders maintained organ studios in Los Angeles to provide prospective customers with a sample of their wares. The studio usually featured a residence-style organ, complete with automatic player, in a home-like setting. The Skinner Organ Company went so far as to install a residence organ in the home of their local representative, Stanley W. Williams.13 The Aeolian Company displayed their Opus 1740 in the George Birkel Music Company, where fine pianos and phonographs were also available. Wurlitzer had a studio in downtown Los Angeles and a second showroom in the posh Ambassador Hotel, where they installed a Style R16, three-manual, ten-rank residence organ. In an overstuffed room off the hotel’s main lobby, patrons of the hotel could relax and listen to organ music presented several times a day by a member of the Wurlitzer staff.
Residence organs were popular additions to many of the fine homes built in Los Angeles before the Depression hit. Members of the movie colony enjoyed organs in their homes, and the Robert-Morton Company built instruments for Thomas Ince, for Marion Davies’s immense beach house, and for Charlie Chaplin, who used the organ to compose most of the music for his films.
Aeolian had organs in the homes of Harold Lloyd, cowboy actor Dustin Farnum, and Francis Marion Thompson, in addition to instruments in the residences of radio pioneer Earle C. Anthony, oil baron Lee Phillips, department store mogul Arthur Letts, and Willits Hole, who had an Aeolian organ in the art gallery wing of his Fremont Place mansion.
The Estey Organ Company’s sole contribution to the film colony was a small four-rank unified organ in the Hollywood home of “Keystone Kop” Chester Conklin.
There were a number of Welte residence organs scattered around Los Angeles, including a two-manual instrument in the home of John Evans, a property later owned by actress Ann Sheridan and Liberace. The large Welte organ in Lynn Atkinson’s exquisite Louis XVI-style home was in a ballroom that opened onto terraced gardens. The exterior of the estate was used as the television home of the “Beverly Hillbillies,” although the then-current owner finally tossed out the production company because too many tourists were knocking on the front door wanting to meet Jed Clampett.
The largest residence organ in Los Angeles was in the 62-acre estate of Silsby Spalding. The Aeolian organ (Opus 1373) had three manuals, six divisions, a 32′ Open Diapason, and 67 ranks of pipes. It was installed in the Spalding’s large music room in 1919 and spoke through three tall arches faced with ornamental metal grilles.
Two very exclusive and elegant apartment buildings in Los Angeles each had a Robert-Morton organ in the living room of the largest apartment. “La Ronda” and the “Andalusia” were both located on Havenhurst Drive and built in the Spanish style with enclosed gardens and fountains surrounding the apartments. The organ in the Andalusia had four ranks of pipes, a roll playing mechanism plus xylophone, marimba, chimes, celesta, and a small toy counter. La Ronda’s Robert-Morton organ had five ranks of pipes, no roll player, and fewer percussion stops.
There were a number of secular organs that had been planned toward the end of the 1920s, but were never built, and one could argue that with several of the instruments, their early demise was a desirable thing.
During the 1920s, Charles Winder ran the Artcraft Organ Company, a small firm that built garden-variety organs for neighborhood churches throughout southern California. In 1926 Winder announced the formation of a new company, The Symphonaer Company, to build “symphony concert organs.” The announcement continued: “The Symphonaer Concert Organ is described as an instrument that reproduces the true symphony orchestra, giving the effect of every instrument used in the largest of symphony orchestras.” A $1,000,000 plant was to be built offering employment to 100 craftsmen. Joining the venture was the British concert organist Edwin Lemare, who would serve as director of music and specifications. Built alongside the factory would be Symphonaer Hall, a recital hall equipped with a large Symphonaer organ, where Lemare would give frequent recitals and broadcast the instrument over a local radio station.14 The enterprise died in the planning stages and the Artcraft Organ Company went broke in 1928.
Alexander Pantages ordered a five-manual Robert-Morton organ for his spectacular Hollywood Pantages Theatre that opened in 1930. Although the theater was and still is a success, the organ was never built due to the advent of sound films, an expensive lawsuit in which Pantages was involved, and the closing of the Robert-Morton Company. The four large organ chambers remain empty to this day.
The Hollywood Bowl, the world’s largest natural amphitheater, is used as a popular venue for summer concerts, accommodating audiences of up to 18,000. The Hollywood Bowl program for July, 1929, published a letter from the Bowl manager relating that organist Edwin Lemare was working to interest the Hollywood Bowl Association in installing an outdoor organ in the amphitheater. The letter went on to state that Lemare had prevailed on an organ builder to install an organ in the Bowl provided that $10,000 was spent to build enclosures for the instrument.15 Fortunately, the scheme never progressed past the planning stage.

Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum
In the late 1920s, the Welte Organ Company submitted a proposal to the Civic Bureau of Music and Art of Los Angeles to build a five-manual outdoor organ for the Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum.16 The Coliseum, opened in 1923, covers a total of 17 acres and originally seated 76,000. Although there is nothing in the proposal stating where the organ would be located in the huge stadium, concrete enclosures may have been planned in and around the Peristyle, a focal point along the east end of the huge structure.
The installation of an organ in the Coliseum would have been an even greater acoustical nightmare than an organ in the Hollywood Bowl. Among the features of the proposed specification was a fifth manual called “Orchestral” that was home to four separately enclosed divisions, Diapason, Brass, String and Woodwind, three of which had their own pedal sections. The console would have stopkeys placed on angled jambs and a remote combination action. Nothing ever came of the proposal, and the 1929 stock market crash and closing of the Welte Corporation in 1931 sealed the instrument’s fate.
The proposal reads:

The Welte Organ Company, Inc., hereby agrees to build for the Civic Bureau of Music and Art, Los Angeles, California; herein referred to as Purchaser, and to install in the Coliseum, Los Angeles, California—ONE WELTE PIPE ORGAN. Ready to use and in accordance with the following specifications, viz: Manuals, five, compass CC to C4, 61 notes; Pedals, compass CCC to G, 32 notes; the windchests of manuals affected by octave couplers to be extended one octave above the compass of the keyboard, to 73 notes. Electro-pneumatic action throughout. Philharmonic pitch A-440. Console type, concert; stop control, stopkeys and tablets. Combination action adjustable at the console, visibly affecting the registers. Remote control inside setter.

Los Angeles Coliseum

GREAT - Manual II
16′ Double Diapason
16′ Bourdon
8′ First Diapason
8′ Second Diapason
8′ Third Diapason
8′ Violoncello
8′ Double Flute
8′ Clarabella
51⁄3′ Quint
4′ First Octave
4′ Second Octave
4′ Third Octave
4′ Tibia Plena
4′ Harmonic Flute
31⁄5′ Tenth
22⁄3′ Twelfth
2′ Fifteenth
V Plein Jeu
V Cymbale
16′ Double Trumpet
8′ Tromba
4′ Clarion
8′ Grand Piano
4′ Grand Piano
Minor Chimes
Great 2nd Touch
Diapason Section
Brass Section
String Section
Woodwind Section
Solo to Great 8
Tower Chime
2′ Glockenspiel

SWELL - Manual III
16′ Quintaton
16′ Contra Viola
8′ Open Diapason
8′ Horn Diapason
8′ Viola da Gamba
8′ Salicional
8′ Voix Celeste
8′ Tibia Clausa
8′ Harmonic Flute
4′ Octave
4′ Geigen Principal
4′ Salicet II rks
4′ Flute Couverte
4′ Traverse Flute
31⁄5′ Tenth
22⁄3′ Twelfth
2′ Fifteenth
2′ Piccolo
VI Mixture
16′ Contra Posaune
8′ Cornopean
8′ Trumpet
8′ Oboe Horn
8′ Vox Humana II rks
4′ Clarion
8′ Grand Piano
4′ Grand Piano
Swell 2nd Touch
Diapason Section
Brass Section
String Section
Woodwind Section
Solo to Swell 8
Chimes
2′ Glockenspiel

CHOIR - Manual I
16′ Waldhorn
8′ Open Diapason
8′ Waldhorn
8′ Tibia Minor
8′ Viol d’Orchestre
8′ Violes Celestes II rks
8′ Claribel Flute
8′ Quintaphon
4′ Octave
4′ Wald Flute
4′ Violin
22⁄3′ Twelfth
2′ Fifteenth
2′ Flageolet
13⁄5′ Seventeenth
11⁄7′ Septieme
1′ Twenty-Second
16′ Contra Fagotto
8′ Clarinet
8′ Vox Humana II rks
4′ Clarion
Minor Chimes
2′ Glockenspiel
8′ Grand Piano
4′ Grand Piano
2′ Xylophone
Snare Drum, Tap
Snare Drum, Roll
Choir 2nd Touch
Diapason Section
Brass Section
String Section
Woodwind Section
Solo to Choir
Chimes
2′ Glockenspiel
Snare Drum, Roll
Triangle

SOLO - Manual IV
16′ Violone
8′ Diapason Magna
8′ Tibia Plena
8′ Solo Gamba
8′ Gamba Celestes II rks
8′ Harmonic Flute
4′ Octave
4′ Concert Flute
4′ Solo Violin
III Cornet
16′ Ophicleide
8′ Tuba Mirabilis
8′ Tuba Sonora
8′ Military Trumpet
8′ French Horn
8′ Orchestral Oboe
4′ Clarion

ORCHESTRAL - Manual V
Diapason Section
16′ Major Diapason
8′ Double Languid Diapason I
8′ Double Languid Diapason II
8′ Diapason Phonon
8′ Open Diapason
8′ Geigen Principal
4′ Double Languid Octave
4′ Octave
22⁄3′ Twelfth
2′ Fifteenth
11⁄3′ Nineteenth
1′ Twenty-Second
IX Grand Chorus
Diapason Section Pedal
16′ Diaphonic Diapason
16′ Diapason
102⁄3′ Quint
8′ Diapason Octave
8′ Octave
4′ Super Octave

Brass Section
16′ Trombone
16′ Serpent
8′ Tuba Magna
8′ Tuba Sonora
8′ Tuba Mirabilis
8′ French Trumpet
8′ Muted Trumpet
8′ Post Horn
8′ French Horn (closed tone)
8′ French Horn (open tone)
51⁄3′ Corno Quint
4′ Tuba Clarion
4′ Trumpet Clarion
22⁄3′ Corno Twelfth
2′ Cor Octave
Brass Section Pedal
32′ Contra Bombarde
16′ Bombarde
16′ Trombone
8′ Trumpet

String Section
16′ Contra Basso
16′ Violin Diapason
16′ Contra Viola
8′ Violin Diapason
8′ Violin Diapason Celeste
8′ Violoncello I
8′ Violoncello II
8′ Cello Celestes II rks
8′ Nazard Gamba
8′ Gamba Celeste
8′ First Violin
8′ Second Violin
8′ Third Violin
8′ Violin Celestes II rks
8′ First Viola
8′ Second Viola
8′ Viola Celestes II rks
8′ Muted Violins III rks
4′ String Octave
4′ Violins II rks
4′ Muted Violins III rks
2′ String Fifteenth
III Cornet des Violes
String Section Pedal
32′ String Diaphone
16′ Double Bass
16′ Violone
8′ Cello

Woodwind Section
16′ Bassoon
16′ Bass Saxophone
8′ First Saxophone
8′ Second Saxophone
4′ Soprano Saxophone
8′ English Horn
16′ Bass Clarinet
8′ Basset Horn
8′ First Clarinet
8′ Second Clarinet
8′ Orchestral Oboe
8′ Kinura
8′ Orchestral Flute
4′ Solo Flute
2′ Solo Piccolo

PEDAL
64′ Gravissima
32′ Diaphone
32′ Violone
16′ Diaphone
16′ Major Bass
16′ Diapason
16′ Violone
16′ Contra Basso (String)
16′ Tibia Clausa
16′ Wald Horn (Ch)
16′ Bourdon
16′ Contra Viola (String)
102⁄3′ Quint
8′ Diaphone
8′ Principal
8′ Octave
8′ Violoncello
8′ Wald Horn (Ch)
8′ Flute
51⁄3′ Octave Quint
4′ Super Octave
4′ Fifteenth
4′ Tibia Flute
V Harmonics
V Fourniture
32′ Contra Bombarde
16′ Bombarde
16′ Tuba Profunda
16′ Serpent (Brass)
16′ Ophicleide (Solo)
16′ Double Trumpet (Gt)
16′ Contra Posaune (Sw)
16′ Contra Fagotto (Ch)
8′ Bombarde
8′ Tuba Sonora
4′ Bombarde
4′ Cornet
16′ Grand Piano
8′ Grand Piano
Bass Drum, Stroke

Pedal 2nd Touch
64′ Gravissima
32′ Diaphone
32′ Contra Bombarde
Solo to Pedal 8
Solo to Pedal 4
Diapason Section 8
Diapason Section 4
Brass Section 8
Brass Section 4
Tower Chimes
Minor Chimes
Thunder Drum, Stroke
Thunder Drum, Roll
Kettle Drum, Roll
Chinese Gong
Persian Cymbal
Vibratos
Choir
Choir Vox Humana
Swell
Swell Vox Humana
Solo
Woodwind
String, Fast
String, Slow

Conclusion
The stories of these instruments testify to the near-ubiquity of the pipe organ early in the twentieth century, including its use in films and stage shows. Even film actors owned and played pipe organs, in a golden age that now survives only in recollections such as this.

 

 

Cover Feature - Foley-Baker

Foley-Baker, Inc.,

Tolland, Connecticut

St. Mark’s Episcopal Cathedral, 

Minneapolis, Minnesota

 
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Foley-Baker, Inc.,

Tolland, Connecticut

St. Mark’s Episcopal Cathedral, 

Minneapolis, Minnesota

 

From the builder

The Welte name is mostly known for its roll-player mechanisms, the Mignon reproducing piano, and their Orchestrion. However, as builders of traditional pipe organs, Welte’s output was small; organs were but one in a family of Welte “products” typical of the era’s massive instrumental output. In 1912, Welte opened a factory in Poughkeepsie, New York, but their earliest organs were purchased from other builders and fitted with Welte players. Since Welte was of German ownership, the First World War threw things into disarray, and after the war, ownership changed hands. A larger reorganization in 1925 by former Kimball man Robert Pier Elliot had Welte building its own organs of fine quality and for any venue: residence, theater, or church. But the firm struggled to gain a strong financial footing. It suffered a setback in 1927, repurchase and relocation in 1929, and finally absorption by Kimball of Chicago in 1931. Today, there are few surviving examples of Welte organs, and, even after our 42 years in business, we had never worked on one. St. Mark’s Minneapolis would be a new experience. 

The cathedral’s consultant was David Engen of Maple Grove, Minnesota. His request for proposal offered a general description of the organ’s overall condition. Our assumption was that we would see huge diapasons, pencil-scale strings, and tibia-like flutes, all on a massive chassis. In fact, the St. Mark’s Welte had been tonally and mechanically modified on two different occasions by M.P. Möller. Much of the Welte material was long gone, although the organ remained capable of producing an impressive volume of sound.

But it was clear the various rebuilds had compromised the instrument. The chamber was packed with non-Welte chests, flexible wind lines, dangling wires, and a chamber entrance door that barely opened, due to added ranks and equipment. There were reservoirs everywhere, fully 17 in the main organ. Tuning access was bad enough, while actual service work required unnecessarily heroic effort. One reason the organ continued to generate an impressive sound was the chamber’s placement and hard walls. More than projecting sound, the chamber almost seemed to amplify it. The cathedral’s impressive acoustics certainly helped as well. 

The organ was on its third console and had a dated relay system spread throughout four different areas of the building. In the basement, the large Spencer blower’s motor needed all new bearings. Adding insult to injury, HVAC ducts installed in the 1950s had seen the removal of the organ’s important static reservoirs, further compromising the wind supply.

At Foley-Baker, we love to save old organs. However, it was clear that at St. Mark’s, there wasn’t an old organ to save, just parts of one. Trying to determine what was possible and affordable would take both positive and practical thinking. If the organ were to be rebuilt, the results had to be worth the investment. 

We spent days measuring pipe scales and gathering details. There were interesting finds, such as high in the tower, where the Möller crew had stored some of the 1928 Welte pipework. There was much damage; some ranks were incomplete, while others were beyond repair. Our tonal director Milovan Popovic laid out rank after twisted rank on the large tower room floor. Out of this survey we found three Welte stops to reclaim: the Swell 4 Clarion, Great 8 Second Open Diapason, and the large-scale Swell 8Vox Humana. All three became valuable additions. 

As our familiarity with the cathedral’s music program and organ grew, so did our concepts for the renewed instrument. Tonally, we had 1920s Welte mixed with 1980s Möller. In 2012 it is perhaps too easy to criticize Möller’s radical changes as heavy-handed; they were in the spirit of the time, and had introduced a variety of useful colors, including mutations, large-scale strings, and solo reeds. In time, we decided just where and what reused ranks would work and what new ones had to be added to create a bold, cohesive American sound to fill the cathedral’s large nave.

The chamber size and shape dictated the same stacked layout as had existed from the beginning. For us, multi-level organs raise red flags for service accessibility. Without careful design, the new and larger instrument had the potential for being another service nightmare. Our solution was to start from scratch, using a new chassis designed and built at Organ Supply Industries. The elegant simplicity of their slider chests promised minimal maintenance and assurance of accessibility. Their built-in schwimmer-regulators greatly simplified the winding, adding space for more stops and wider passage boards.

Given the scales and pressures, effective swell boxes would be essential. The original Welte shades were rebuilt and fitted to new boxes of 112-inch-thick medium density fiberboard. The combination of the two makes for a marvelous range of expression; massive ensembles can whisper or roar.

In addition to restoring the 1928 Spencer blower, we were able to find and install appropriate static reservoirs. Unlike 1928, however, this equipment now stands in separate rooms dedicated for the purpose. The result is that, despite wind pressures from five to 20 inches, an indicator light is necessary to know that the wind is on. As we have done elsewhere, we designed and installed an automatic, in-chassis humidity system that requires minimal service attention and combats Minnesota’s problematic humidity swings. 

The low-profile Schantz console dating from 1990 was reused, with modified stop jambs, new drawknobs, and burled mahogany jamb faces for a sharper appearance. (Schantz graciously provided and installed new, easy-to-read piston buttons.) We installed a new electronic relay that is easily accessed by simply raising the now-hinged console lid.

Years of change had seen many stops swapped between divisions. The Choir Diapason had been moved into the Solo as a 4 Octave. We returned it to the Choir at 8 with a new bass octave. The Welte Second Open found in the tower became our Great Diapason. Other stops were also returned to their original 1928 locations. The renewed instrument is a blend of remaining Welte pipework, selected Möller ranks, and important new registers. All retained ranks were cleaned, repaired, and revoiced, perhaps none more important than original large pedal basses and their Welte chests. These provided the weight and heft we envisioned as a foundation for the new instrument. 

The reed stops presented their own challenge, with ranks by five different builders and, in some cases, using scales and pressures dictated by available—or unavailable—space. Working with Chris Broome of Broome & Co. LLC, we examined the potential of each rank for our new scheme. In the end, we designed and had built an all-new Great reed chorus. Having found the original 1928 Welte 4 Clarion, we were able to use it to recreate Welte’s original Swell reed chorus; industrial strength pipes with a just-right massive sound. A small-scale yet piercingly loud Möller Trumpet, which had been taking up valuable room in a corner of the Great, was revoiced into an ideally scaled Choir Trompette. Chorus reeds now serve to cap wonderful choruses, enriched by solo stops such as the Skinner Clarinet or Kimball Corno d’amour. 

The new organ’s sound ties together all the good qualities that go into creating it: the new specification, high pressures and large scales, the chamber’s ability to project sound and the swell shutters’ ability to contain it, and the new layout and chassis, which provided optimal placement for all stops. As the bottom photo on the front cover clearly displays, even 1928 pipes can look (and sound) like new. We were really thrilled to hear Canon Musician Ray Johnston play the “new” organ at the inaugural concert on May 18, an outstanding program that included brass and the cathedral’s choirs. To him and David Engen we owe thanks for supporting us in this challenging and rewarding project.

Upcoming concerts involving the rebuilt organ are posted on the cathedral’s website. All photos of the cathedral and reconditioned instrument are by Mark Manring (www.manring.net). All other photos are from Foley-Baker, Inc. files.

—Mike Foley

 

From the canon musician

St. Mark’s Cathedral has long been known for its various music programs and concerts. Built as a parish church in 1910 and designated a cathedral in 1941, it has during that time seen six directors of music as well as a number of rebuilds and additions to the original four-manual Welte installed in 1928. As musical tastes changed throughout the century, the tonal plan of the organ became distorted, becoming a combination of classical and romantic sounds, leading to a loss of identity for the instrument. 

The various additions also led to a chronic lack of space within the organ chamber, preventing access for tuning and repair to pipes bending over with metal fatigue. Equally worrying was the damage done to the winding as abundant leaks had resulted in pressure drops throughout the organ. 

In 2010 the cathedral launched a capital campaign, included in which was repair to the organ’s winding. However, on closer inspection it soon became apparent that problems ran very deep and fixing the leaks would in fact be a waste of money. Major action was required. The choice was stark—total reconditioning or a new instrument. This was an easy decision: much of the original Welte chorus was in good condition and had such quality and character that it could become the basis of a major overhaul. 

Next came the biggest challenge—persuading the vestry and the congregation that a lot of money needed to be spent to keep the organ in working order. To many, of course, the organ sounded just fine, as it always had. As is often the case, organists’ abilities to mask faults and ciphers go unnoticed by the majority. However, thanks to many organ tours and presentations by both committee and builder, and the fact that music and the pipe organ are such an integral part of worship at the cathedral, we were able to reach our target of $1.2 million.

In consultation with our selected firm, Foley-Baker Inc., a new specification was drawn up that necessitated replacing one-third of the pipework and relocating ranks from the gallery to the main organ. Of primary concern was an instrument to accompany the liturgy, from providing subtlety and color for the cathedral choir’s large repertoire to giving stimulating leadership to congregational hymnody. If the organ could do both those things well it would surely prove to be an admirable recital instrument also. 

While not a particularly large four-manual instrument, at least by American standards, it has exceeded all expectations as a concert instrument: almost endless color, a vast dynamic range, and a character that is totally suited to the building, all exquisitely voiced. It is unashamedly in the English romantic style, and, having played many of the great cathedral organs in the U.K., I am delighted that we now have such a fine instrument in that tradition, as well as an organ that is true to its original intention.

—Ray Johnston

 

From the committee chair

In May 2012, the refurbished St. Mark’s organ was inaugurated for concert audience and worshipers. Those were thrilling experiences, the result of meticulous planning and craftsmanship by Canon Musician Raymond Johnston and Foley-Baker, Inc.

I was privileged to chair the organ planning committee during the last phase of its pre-construction work. This was undertaken in the context of St. Mark’s “Opening Our Doors” capital campaign, which, by any standard, was a clear success, raising over $3 million. I was also privileged to co-chair the capital campaign with Inez Bergquist, Doug Eichten, and Courtney Ward-Reichard. The capital campaign had three highly visible purposes: restore the exterior of the 100-year-old building to stop leaks and deterioration; improve a long list of interior infrastructure items; and repair/restore the pipe organ. The first two of those purposes were easy for members and contributors to see and understand, especially when ice formed inside the church and fell on folks in procession during Sunday worship. The organ was a different matter.

Even though much of the organ was well beyond maintenance and some of it dead or ciphering, it still sounded pretty good much of the time. Most of this was attributable to Ray Johnston’s talents and the marvelous acoustic characteristics of the St. Mark’s Cathedral space. We conducted behind-the-walls tours of the chambers to show potential donors the points of failure and the grossly antiquated control mechanisms, leaking air handlers, and failing wiring. We were also careful to explain that much of the tuned pipework and blower could be restored and would be maintained.  At the end of the many days, the congregation did contribute and one very generous, anonymous donor provided most of the funds needed for the more than $1 million organ project.

While Foley-Baker did their work, the entire instrument was removed and a digital organ was rented and used with speakers around the cathedral. Many regular attendees commented that they could “hear the difference” and had come to understand why it was appropriate to rebuild a fine pipe organ. That was brought home once again to me on Sunday last, when Ray Johnston offered Samuel Sebastian Wesley’s Choral Song and Fugue as the service postlude. Most of the congregation stayed to hear it and to celebrate the glory of the rebuilt organ.  

—Fred Moore

 

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