Three die in Christchurch church collapse during pipe organ removal

Key for the cover illustration
1. Original factory building, 158 Woodland Street. Occupied from 1899–1937.
2. Opus 2, Sweetest Heart of Mary Church, Detroit, 2 manuals, 20 stops. Still in regular service.
3. Opus 500, Panama-Pacific Exhibition, San Francisco, 4 manuals, 121 stops. Damaged in a 1989 earthquake, it remains in storage awaiting completion of restoration and installation.
4. Opus 2536, Trinity College Chapel, Hartford, 3 manuals, 62 stops.
5. Opus 2719, Our Lady of Czestochowa, Doylestown, Pennsylvania, 4 manuals, 65 stops.
6. Opus 453, The Organ Pavilion, Balboa Park, San Diego, 4 manuals, 62 stops.
7. Opus 323, City Hall Auditorium, Portland, Maine, 5 manuals, 124 stops.
8. Opus 2768, St. Mary’s College, Moraga, California, 4 manuals, 68 stops.
9. Opus 2782, Fountain Street Church, Grand Rapids, Michigan, 4 manuals, 139 stops.
10. The “new” factory building (1937), as expanded several times.
Center: The Austin Universal Airchest logo, including the crest with the motto: Scientia Artem Adjuvat. The motto and crest are said to have been the design of former Austin employee Robert Hope-Jones.
Background: The background is a blueprint, Opus 2786, Assumption Church, Westport, Connecticut.

The first Austin milestone:

1893—the first instrument

The Austin story begins like so many tales of European emigration. It was in the year 1889 that young John T. Austin sailed for the shores of the new world with a man he met who was visiting England (the Austin family native soil) and was returning to California. The Austin family was considerably well off: Jonathan Austin (the father) was a “gentleman farmer,” whose hobby was tinkering with organs and organbuilding. During the voyage, all of John’s money was liberated from his person before arriving in New York, presumably the result of the kindness of his traveling companion!

Penniless, he used his extraordinary wits to find his way to Michigan, and was immediately hired by the Farrand & Votey firm in Detroit. In a few years’ time, he had become plant superintendent, and in his free time he developed a concept for a new type of windchest. After building and servicing bar and slider (tracker organ) windchests, and certainly seeing many of the new electro-pneumatic actions coming on the scene, he was convinced that there must be a better way. The folks at Farrand & Votey were not interested, so in 1893 he built and sold a new organ that he built at the Clough & Warren (reed organ) plant.

His concept was innovative, because you could simply walk right into the windchest (he called it an airbox) and service the complete mechanism. Inside the airbox of many of these early instruments were also the motor for the bellows and the electric (direct current) generator. He started selling these new instruments with alacrity. It is an often-held belief that Austin organs have tracker-like lifespan, and this is evidenced by the fact that several of these early instruments, Opus 2 from 1894 for example, continue to play well year after year.

A discussion of the Austin mechanism would easily consume an entire volume, but in digest form, the organ utilizes one manual motor (primary note action) for each note, or key, in a division, and one stop action motor for each stop on a main windchest. The valves under each pipe are not leather pouches, such as one might find in a Skinner, Möller, or other electro-pneumatic instrument, but in an Austin, they are simply mechanical valves connected by wooden trackers (yes, trackers!) to the manual motor for each particular note. This mechanism is reliable and inherently self-adjusting. Springs and felt guides allow wild changes in humidity and temperature with no degradation in performance. The whole concept is, in a word, brilliant!

In 1899, perhaps the apex of the American Industrial Revolution, John T. Austin was just 30 years old when he moved into the facility on Woodland Street in Hartford, Connecticut. Legend has it that that the crew (including JTA) was installing the organ at the Fourth Congregational Church (Opus 22, now the Liberty Christian Center) when the factory in Detroit burned to the ground. Actually, John T. Austin was in Woodstock, Ontario, supervising the construction of the first and only Austin organ constructed by the Karn-Warren Company. The date of the fire was February 2, 1899 (the feast of Candlemas!). On March 31 of that year, the Austin Organ Company was incorporated in the state of Maine. The company actually signed a contract for a new organ on March 1 of that year and rented factory space in Boston—just down the street from the first, soon-to-be Skinner organ factory. The following August, the board of directors authorized the acquisition of the Hartford facility.

The business moved along quickly. It would be safe to say that most instruments of this period were of moderate size; literally dozens of three and four-manual instruments were delivered between 1900 and 1915. This was the point in Austin’s history when some rather significant and interesting instruments were installed. For example: Opus 323, The Kotzschmar Memorial Organ (www.foko.org) was built for the City Hall in Portland, Maine. It was one of the first municipal organs installed in the country. The organ has been played and maintained with loving care. A handsome, new five-manual drawknob console was built for the organ by the Austin firm in 2000.

This organ was followed a few years later by Opus 453, the Spreckels Organ in Balboa Park, San Diego, on New Year’s Eve, 1914. The largest and most renowned outdoor organ, it was the gift of businessmen John D. Spreckels and his brother Adolph B. Spreckels. The organ continues to be heard in regular concerts and events. Dr. Carol Williams retains the position as Municipal Organist, performing regularly to hundreds (www.sosorgan.com). This organ was originally built for the Panama-California Exposition, before being re-gifted to the city.

Meanwhile, up the coast in San Francisco, the Panama-Pacific Exposition in San Francisco would open just two months later and run concurrently with the San Diego event. Austin was chosen from a list of about 31 builders to construct the organ for this exposition, and was given a stiff timeline: six months! It was completed the very morning that the exposition opened. When the exposition was concluded, the organ was moved to the Civic Auditorium. The city’s new municipal organist, Edwin Lemare, specified scores of tonal and mechanical changes that he required the Austin Company to complete upon re-installation. Of primary concern was the fact that the organ was being moved from a space that seated 3,000 to an auditorium with a capacity of over 10,000. The organ had many years of fame, but fell to near-obscurity in the late 1950s. In 1963, the Austin firm built a stunning black lacquer drawknob console. It saw a bit more use, but the horrific 1989 Loma Prieta earthquake rendered the organ silent. The organ sustained some damage due to falling debris. Funds were eventually allocated to repair and re-install the organ. The organ was returned to Hartford, and much work had been completed, but a few months into the project, a directive from the city ordered the organ to be returned to San Francisco. It remains in storage beneath the city, much like that final scene of Indiana Jones’s Raiders of the Lost Ark!

Opus 558 would be the company’s first five-manual instrument, built for the Medinah Temple (Masonic Lodge) in Chicago. This organ also had a sister stopkey console of four manuals. During this period, the company production averaged over 60 new pipe organs a year! The next major instrument would be for the Eastman Theater (for the Eastman School of Music); Opus 1010 was a unique theatre organ—the largest ever—of 229 stops! It was, sadly, removed in the 1970s. There were additional notable instruments during this time: the University of Colorado received a four-manual, 119-stop instrument in 1922. The Cincinnati Music Hall awarded a contract for Opus 1109, an 87-stop instrument that utilized much of the existing Hook & Hastings pipework. Opus 1416, a four-manual instrument of 200 stops, was built for the Sesquicentennial Exposition in Philadelphia. The final large concert hall organ of this period, Opus 1627, four manuals and 102 stops, was built for Hartford’s own Horace Bushnell Memorial Hall in 1929.

By the mid-1920s, Austin Organ Company was producing over 80 new pipe organs annually. This trend continued until the crash of 1929 and ensuing depression era. The company soldiered on, a bit weakened because of the lack of new business, tremendous overhead (the factory was expanded over three times from its original footprint), and company financing of new instruments to churches, from which payments only dribbled in. In July 1935, The Diapason published the announcement that the Austin Organ Company would close its doors. Non-specific Austin assets and raw materials were sold, and remaining contracts were completed (the final A.O.C. contract was number 1885). A few folks remained to complete warranty work and move the Austin tools and machines into storage. At this time, young Frederic Basil Austin and long-time employee Harold Dubrule kept the fires burning by completing some small rebuilds and service jobs. It was this association that inspired John T. Austin’s nephew to consider purchasing the company, a process that was completed in 1937.

The second Austin milestone: 1937—reorganization and move into a new facility

The “new” Austin Organs, Incorporated opened its doors in February of 1937. The transition from the old management to the new Austin was as seamless as could be expected. They were able to return most employees to their workstations, however, in a scaled-down facility located directly behind the behemoth structure that had been home to the company for the previous 36 years. For the first few years, the company leased the property from G. F. Heublein & Bro. Distributors—liquor distributors for much of the East Coast, famous for their pre-mixed “Club Cocktails.” A wooden guard mounted to an ancient band saw that is still in service in the Austin mill is actually a trespassing warning sign from the pre-1937 Heublein days. Within a few years, the property was purchased by the Austin corporation, and over the next three decades the buildings were expanded several times.

The original factory was rather foursquare—four stories, small footprint. Then a separate wood frame structure was built that served as an erecting room, then a fire, then the mill and new brick erecting room, additions to the main building that became pneumatic departments, more voicing rooms, console and cabinet shop, etc. The design department and metal pipe shop grew along the railroad tracks, requiring the private rail siding to be moved. In the late 1960s, the final addition was the large shipping/receiving and casting room. This expansion required a somewhat more adventurous move: purchase of land from the N.Y./N.H. & Hartford Railroad. Somehow, it was pulled off; the centerline of the main rail appears to have been moved slightly north, and the siding was completely eliminated. The sprawl of the factory now reached nearly 50,000 square feet. Sometimes it was not enough, but it is as efficient as any multi-story manufacturing space can be.

A charming, vintage Otis elevator allows safe and uncomplicated material transport between floors. Systems throughout the factory are up to date, and have been carefully maintained by conscientious staff and the foresight of F. B. Austin’s son, Donald. Assuming the role of president in 1973, Don was a formidable figure in the organ industry. He was a very private person, well respected by his colleagues and employees. Aside from his devotion to the company and care of the physical plant, he maintained the Austin tradition of assiduous design trends.

The well-regarded voicer, David Broome, who retired as tonal director at Austin in 1998, describes the “Austin sound” as never one of extremes. Austin has, as he expresses it, not traditionally been a leader in any new tonal movement in organbuilding. That being said, the company has always built a well-balanced chorus. Even instruments from the 1930s, when so many of our hallowed builders (now gone) built the most tubby-sounding diapason choruses, one can hear the gentle articulation and effects of moderately scaled Austin pipework. We can argue about the sound of the vintage Austin trumpets and oboes, etc., but we never find reeds like them—they not only remain in tune, but have good, steady tonal color as well. The construction of reed pipes was just one of the more than four dozen patents that the Austin Company was granted through the years.

The company motto—Scientia Artem Adjuvat—was not just a clever marketing concept for the Austin family; it was a way of life. Many of the machines in the factory that are used for Austin were made right here. So, we have the machines that repair the machines, right here in the factory! The now famous seven-headed monster that is used to build pedal and stop action blocks was originally built in the front building, and moved here in 1937. It has been improved several times, most recently this year when we added new bushings and guides to allow the belts to travel and run their saws and drills efficiently. (Rafael Ramos, who has been mill foreman since the 1980s, states that it now runs faster and smoother than ever before.)

In 1999, Don Austin retired from active participation in the daily operation of the company. He appointed his daughter Kimberlee as president. He continued as CEO until his death in the fall of 2004. In early 2005, Kimberlee Austin resigned her position with the company.

On an otherwise pleasant Monday in March of 2005, I received a phone call from Trinity College Organist John Rose. He told me that as of that afternoon, the Austin Company would be closing its doors. I was shocked. It felt as though my slightly peculiar but lovable old uncle had passed away. (We were at that time competitors, of course.) We wondered how in the world this could happen. Austin was always so . . . solid. The truth of the matter was that, in fact, the company did not “close”, but just temporarily ceased manufacturing new organs. There was no bankruptcy, no liquidation of tooling or assets. Don Austin’s wife, Marilyn, retained the services of business consultants; the result of their consultation was basically a public offering in the form of a letter sent to nearly every organbuilder or supplier in the country, while Marilyn and a few employees kept the phones answered and made small parts for existing instruments.

The third Austin milestone:
2007—a new direction

In the late 1960s, Richard Taylor, a former Aeolian-Skinner employee and New England Conservatory graduate, arrived at Austin Organs to assume the position of the soon-to-retire Les Barrows, who had been purchasing manager for 59 years. After a couple of years working in the plant and in the service department, the day finally arrived when he would occupy a small desk in the corner of the factory offices on the second floor. At the rather generous rate of $2.00 an hour, he was fairly pleased with his position. In the early 1970s, there was a brief drop in organ sales, and Don Austin decided to cut back in every department. He decided that there was no need for a purchasing manager. So, Mr. Taylor moved on to other industries, among them, purchasing manager–military operations for Colt Firearms. By the late 1980s, he had returned to organbuilding, as superintendent at the former Berkshire Organ Company in Western Massachusetts.

As for me, I have studied engineering in Springfield, Massachusetts, music at Westminster Choir College, and Emergency Medicine at Northeastern University. I had attended two seminaries, and for a short time was a novice in a small Franciscan religious order. Leaving all that behind, I applied science to music, and was working with Berkshire Organs in its final years, where I discovered the absolute wonder of the technology that transmits music from the organist, through the console, windchests and eventually evokes sound from the pipework.

Following the demise of Berkshire Organs in 1989, we formed American Classic Organ Company. While remaining a modest-sized operation, we completed several new instruments and built a respectable service business. We located the workshops in sleepy Chester, Connecticut in 2000.

We came into the Austin picture during the summer of 2005. Through a series of events, we received a letter proposing financial investment or purchase. After several weeks of soul-searching and discussions, we were able to come to an agreement. In January 2006, we purchased the assets and liabilities of the company. Almost immediately a dozen employees returned to their benches, sales representatives arrived back at the door, and the company has begun to rebuild. Several new people have since been added to the roster of Austin employees. The new management aims to build team spirit, stay nimble, and remain rational in the face of terror!

Among the projects completed this year have been dozens of action orders for existing Austin organs (often delivered ahead of schedule). We designed, built and delivered a mahogany four-manual drawknob console in 62 days. It was constructed on the traditional Austin steel-frame system. We completed a major project on an instrument in Lansing, Michigan, which required a new console, utilizing the existing (stripped and refinished) casework, re-actioning, and some tonal additions. A new instrument, Opus 2790, will be installed this coming Easter. This contract was negotiated within a few weeks of restructuring. Several interesting projects are pending for 2007. The metal pipe shop has completed new pipework for the new organ on the floor right now (Opus 2790) and other Austin projects. We have also recently completed extensive repairs and historic renovation on several sets of vintage Aeolian-Skinner pipework at the Mormon Tabernacle. We continue to cast our own pipe metal, and manufacture both flue and reed pipes.

The company is celebrating the milestones of 114 years since the first Austin organ was built, and 70 years since reorganization and move into the current factory. We are on solid footing and in good shape to complete projects large and small, with confident vision of significant growth and expansion.
In quiet moments around the factory, you can hear the faint, yet distinct footsteps of John, Basil, F.B., and Don Austin, as their spirits permeate every process and instrument. The memories of so many gifted and wonderful people who have literally spent their lives here continue to affect our days. They are all a constant reminder of our commitment and challenge to continue Austin’s heritage in American organbuilding. We are humbled to bring new life into this venerable institution, and the many calls and notes we receive encourage us to move forward to celebrate whatever might be the “next milestone.”

—Michael Brian Fazio

David C. Kelzenberg studied music performance and music theory at Quincy University and the University of Iowa. He has an interest in and has performed on all keyboard instruments, including organ, harpsichord, clavichord, and piano, and has made a special study of the history of early keyboard performance practice in the 20th and 21st centuries. He has taught music theory, French horn, trumpet, organ, and piano. His organ teachers have included Richard Haas, Rudolf Zuiderveld, and Gerhard Krapf. He is co-owner of the international Internet mailing list PIPORG-L (devoted to the organ), and founder and co-owner of HPSCHD-L (devoted to stringed early keyboard instruments such as the harpsichord and clavichord). He serves on the board of directors of the Midwestern Historical Keyboard Society, the Cedar Rapids Area Theatre Organ Society, and the Iowa City Early Keyboard Society.

Mother Nature showed her dark side during the month of June, with repeated thunderstorms dumping rain and more rain on the Midwest. Rivers, lakes, and reservoirs rose, eventually spilling over dams, levees, and banks, flooding some areas in unprecedented amounts.
Eastern Iowa was particularly hard hit, as cities along major rivers and tributaries were inundated by floodwaters. The massive Coralville Dam, built by the Army Corps of Engineers in the 1950s, was designed to control the Iowa River upstream of the towns of Iowa City and Coralville, while creating a huge water reservoir—a man-made lake designed for recreation, boating, swimming, and fishing. For only the second time in its history, the reservoir’s capacity was exceeded, with water flowing freely over the emergency spillway of the massive dam and overrunning everything in its downstream path.
Both Iowa City and Coralville were impacted by the swiftly rising water. In Iowa City, the University of Iowa had built numerous buildings along the banks of the river, under the mistaken assumption that the Coralville Dam, some 10 miles upstream, would prevent future flooding of the Iowa River. Among the buildings constructed adjacent to the river is the Voxman Music Building, home to the university’s School of Music. Named for the renowned educator and long-time School of Music director Himie Voxman, the Voxman Music Building has housed the university’s School of Music since its construction in 1970. Along with other nearby buildings such as Hancher Auditorium, Clapp Recital Hall, the Theatre Building, the University of Iowa Museum of Art, and two art buildings, Voxman was built immediately adjacent to the scenic and usually tranquil Iowa River, a mistake that would come to haunt the university in 2008.
When it was apparent that a flood was coming, Iowa City and Coralville residents turned out in a massive sand-bagging effort. Walls of sandbags were erected along the riverbank and around low-lying buildings. But the rain kept coming, and so did the floodwaters. By the time the water stopped rising, every important university building along the river—the entire Fine Arts Complex, the Main Library, the Iowa Memorial Union, several other academic buildings, the university’s largest dormitory, and its power generating plant, not to mention numerous homes and businesses in both communities, were flooded.
Some of the victims of this devastating flood were organs. In the Voxman Music Building, two large studio organs and several practice instruments were flooded with mucky river water to a depth of about 18 inches for over a week. The most serious loss was to the university’s 1987 North German-style organ by Taylor & Boody, Op. 13, which has been widely acclaimed as a masterwork. In the other teaching studio, a large two-manual tracker instrument by Schlicker was also severely damaged. In addition, three practice instruments, by Casavant, Brombaugh, and Holtkamp, suffered a similar fate. Fortunately, the water never reached the level of the pipes, but many parts such as blowers, winding systems, pedalboards, and actions were essentially destroyed.
According to Delbert Disselhorst, longtime chair of UI’s organ department, the effect of the flooding has been devastating to the department. “All of these organs will be removed from the building and returned to organ builders for rebuilding. We estimate that the building itself will not reopen until the fall of 2009. However, it may be another year or more before the organs are back in place and ready to resume their teaching and recital duties.” Gregory Hand, new professor of organ at Iowa, added a note of optimism. “The organs, despite everyone’s best efforts, sat in 18 inches of dirty water for some nine days. However, everyone at the university has been extremely helpful towards the organ department, and there has never been any question whether the organs would be fixed.”
Carroll Hanson, the curator of organs for the university, explained further. “The damaged organs included the university’s original teaching instrument, a Holtkamp ‘Martini’, which is believed to be the last instrument built by Walter Holtkamp, Sr., in 1961. Also damaged were tracker practice instruments by Casavant and John Brombaugh. The large Schlicker studio organ, a two-manual tracker of about 25 stops, suffered severe damage to its winding system and mechanicals.”
The most severe loss was the Taylor & Boody recital instrument, which has served as a focal point for teaching and recitals. Many students and guest artists have enjoyed its remarkable qualities since its installation. This instrument and the Brombaugh practice instrument will be returned to the Taylor & Boody shop in Virginia for restoration. Work on the large Schlicker instrument and the Holtkamp Martini will be undertaken by Gene Bedient’s shop in Lincoln, Nebraska. The Casavant practice instrument will be returned to Casavant in St. Hyacinthe, Quebec, Canada, for restoration.
Fortunately, the Casavant recital instrument in Clapp Recital Hall was not damaged by the flood. This large concert instrument, reportedly the first large tracker instrument to be installed in a major American teaching institution in the 20th century, was installed in the new Clapp Recital Hall in 1971 under the supervision of the “father” of organ instruction at Iowa, the late Gerhard Krapf. But, while the organ sits high in the hall and remained above the flood-waters, the hall itself was inundated, and will require major renovation. Another survivor of the devastation, a small portable continuo organ by Taylor & Boody, was moved to the second floor before the waters rose, and was untouched by the floodwaters.
Other instruments at the university were also compromised by the flooding. Some pianos and a harpsichord were removed from the path of the rising waters, while others were not as fortunate. Steve Carver, piano maintenance coordinator for the university, recalls details of their efforts to save the instruments. “We moved pianos all week until Friday the 13th (of June). We were initially told we could work through Friday but the river came up much faster than expected, so the building was locked down early Friday morning. We will lose about 25 upright pianos, a mixture of Steinway and Everetts. We left nine Steinway grands on the first floor to finish on June 13, but were unable to access the building to complete the move. These will at the least require all new legs and lyres (about $2000 per piano), but may well be totaled too.
“I am more concerned about what the exposure to high humidity after standing in 18 inches of water will do to the soundboards, etc. of the instruments. We were able to move about 20 more Steinways upstairs. But even these may suffer from lack of proper ventilation this summer and fall. I have been recently told that all 50 grands and uprights on the second floor will have to be relocated before winter.
“We removed the Italian harpsichord (built by the Zuckermann shop) from the building on June 12 and were planning to do likewise to the remaining two (a French double by David Rubio and a Flemish single by Edward Kottick) on June 13. As we were locked out of the building, these two stood in 18 inches of water for about nine days. I cannot comment on their condition other than to say there is a good chance they will be severely damaged. I have grave concerns in the long term how this flood will impact our inventory.”
This is a crushing blow to the UI School of Music. However, their resolve to work through these problems remains strong. Teaching will continue for the current academic year in facilities provided elsewhere in town. Local churches in particular have opened their space for teaching. It is anticipated that the Voxman Music Building, Hancher Auditorium, and Clapp Recital Hall will reopen in time for the 2009–2010 academic year, although it is unclear whether the organs will be back in place by then. But return they will, hopefully in better shape than ever and with provisions in place to prevent repeating this sort of tragedy. The harpsichords and pianos will also be restored, and music instruction will continue at the high level for which the University of Iowa has become known.
Meanwhile, in nearby Cedar Rapids, it was the Red Cedar River that caused problems, and if anything, the flood was even more devastating here than in Iowa City and Coralville. Organs were severely damaged in Cedar Rapids as well, although it was organs of a different type entirely.
The Red Cedar River runs through the heart of Cedar Rapids. Much of the city’s history is tied to industry lining the river, and downtown Cedar Rapids is bisected by this body of water. In the middle of the river in the heart of the city, Mays Island has stood for hundreds of years. A prominent landmark, Mays Island is home to the city’s municipal government, making Cedar Rapids one of just a few cities whose seat of government is located on an island. Also on the island are the courthouse and Veteran’s Memorial Coliseum, home of a famous large stained glass window designed by artist Grant Wood. At the height of the flood, Mays Island was completely invisible, with only the tall buildings standing above the water to show where it once was.
Cedar Rapids knew a flood was coming, and her citizens prepared accordingly. As in Iowa City and Coralville, volunteers turned out in a monumental sand-bagging effort. What no one could have anticipated was the magnitude of the flood of 2008. The water rose, up and up, and UP, and when it peaked it had completely inundated Mays Island, downtown Cedar Rapids, and many residential neighborhoods near the river. Hundreds, if not thousands, of homes and businesses were damaged or destroyed. Countless people were left homeless, and the government offices of Cedar Rapids and many of its downtown and neighborhood businesses were compromised. Amid the devastation, overshadowed by the tragedies of people left homeless, businesses destroyed, and historic buildings damaged, two significant cultural icons were also devastated by the raging waters. These were architectural treasures: two historical theatres dating back to 1928, and musical treasures—the theatre pipe organs that they housed. While these instruments represent a tragic loss, things could have been worse.
In 1929, the city was proud to acquire a new municipal organ, a 4-manual, 56-rank instrument built by the Ernest M. Skinner Company and installed in Veteran’s Memorial Coliseum on Mays Island. If that important instrument were still installed in that arena, it would have been completely destroyed during this flood. Fortunately, it was spared this fate. In the 1950s, the instrument was moved to Sinclair Auditorium on the campus of Coe College, some 10 blocks above the high water line. As a result, it suffered no damage during the flood.
Unfortunately, Cedar Rapids’ two historic theatre organs did not fare as well.
The beautiful Paramount Theatre, built in 1928, stands at the corner of Third Avenue and Second Street in the heart of downtown. Built in the grand style, this 2,000-seat movie palace was completely restored to its former glory just a few years ago to the tune of 7.8 million dollars. Its grand Hall of Mirrors, modeled after the great Palais de Versailles in France, ushered generations of moviegoers toward the opulent auditorium, where the sound of the 3/12 Mighty Wurlitzer beckoned. All of this glory came to an ignominious end during the first week of June, when the river crested its banks and inundated downtown Cedar Rapids.
A wall of water rushed through the Paramount Theatre building and into the auditorium. The heavy Wurlitzer console, raised on its lift to stage level in anticipation of the flood, was savagely tossed onto its back and onto the stage. The stage extension, built of heavy reinforced panels and extending over the orchestra pit, was knocked into complete disarray. In the end, some 8.5 feet of water covered the stage, organ console, and the entire auditorium. The lift and console were completely submerged for at least a week, and in the sub-basement, the organ’s blower was under at least 30 feet of water.
Fortunately, the organ chambers were not breached by the water, or the tragedy would have been far worse. The pipes, percussions, and windchests, as well as the original Wurlitzer relay, appear to have been spared. The blower was not reachable until one full month after the floodwaters receded. It is damaged, but still responding to a turn of its motor.
The most serious loss is the console itself, which was virtually destroyed. While it was found essentially intact after the waters receded, the waters had weakened wood and joints, and it literally fell apart as workers carefully attempted to remove it from the theatre. This is particularly tragic as this was an unusual Wurlitzer console, with unique decorative details, controlling an unusual instrument. Classified by Wurlitzer as a model Balaban 1A, the Paramount’s organ (Opus 1907) is the only extant instrument of this model still in essentially original condition, still in its original home. Only seven Balaban 1As were built by Wurlitzer, and this one has resided in the Paramount Theatre since opening night in 1928.
Like the theatre itself, the Wurlitzer organ is owned by the City of Cedar Rapids. It has been carefully maintained by, and at the expense of, the Cedar Rapids Area Theatre Organ Society (CRATOS) since that group was formed in 1969. CRATOS volunteers are working hard now to restore this organ to its former glory, but many questions remain about the structural integrity of the building, possible insurance coverage, and funding. The generous support of friends of the theatre organ will be needed to allow this special Wurlitzer organ to sing again. Obviously, the console will need to be completely rebuilt or replaced.
Meanwhile, at nearby Theatre Cedar Rapids (originally the RKO Iowa Theatre), Cedar Rapids’ other historic theatre organ suffered a similar fate. Theatre Cedar Rapids is home to the celebrated “Rhinestone” Barton theatre organ (opus 510), so named because of its spectacularly decorated console. This is another unique instrument, the largest of several Bartons that were actually built by the Wangerin Company of Milwaukee, and like its Wurlitzer neighbor an original installation from the year 1928. As far as is known, this is the only organ ever delivered with a console covered in black velvet, brilliant rhinestones, and sparkling glitter. This organ was historian and restoration expert David Junchen’s favorite Barton organ, and anyone who has heard or played it in its original home in Cedar Rapids can understand why.
The news from Theatre Cedar Rapids is somewhat brighter than that from the Paramount. At First Avenue and Third Street, TCR is a bit further from the river, and there was no wall of water crashing into the building. But creep in it did, and although the console had also been raised to stage level in anticipation of the flooding, the water rose to about the level of its solo (top) manual, where it remained for several days. The console damage was disastrous. Fortunately, the blower and relay for this instrument are located at chamber level, so only the console and its Barton four-post lift were damaged by the floodwaters.
The Barton organ is owned and maintained by a small non-profit corporation, Cedar Rapids Barton, Incorporated (CRBI). The organ was not insured, and funds for its restoration will need to come from generous donors and grants. Already a grant has been provided by the National Endowment for the Humanities, which has been used for the removal of the Barton console from the theatre and into safe storage where the damage is being assessed. However, significant funds are still needed to support the restoration or replacement of the organ’s console and other work needed to bring the Rhinestone Barton back to life.
With all of the personal tragedies the people of Cedar Rapids and Eastern Iowa have suffered as a consequence of this devastating flood, the restoration of these two historic theatre organs may seem an insignificant goal. Yet the people have demonstrated a strong will to restore their beloved theatres, which they consider important cultural landmarks for their city. Many of these same people have spoken out in support of restoring the organs, which they consider the “voice” of these theatres, providing much needed moral if not financial support. And it is the firm goal of CRATOS and CRBI working together to do whatever it takes to bring these unique historical instruments back to their former glory.
It will take time for these transformations to take place. And, it will take the generous financial support of many of our friends in the organ community and the music world. At the recent annual convention of the American Theatre Organ Society in Indianapolis, many people contributed to the cause of these two organs. But this is only the beginning. An online fundraising appeal is underway.
How can you help? If you would like to support the ongoing restoration and upkeep of the Cedar Rapids theatre organs, please consider making a contribution to the cause. You can do so online by visiting <www.cr-atos.com&gt;, where you may make an online contribution and view many photos and news stories on the flood damage to the organs. You may also purchase a copy of “Back in the Black,” Scott Foppiano’s spectacular CD recorded on the Rhinestone Barton, proceeds from which will support the organ fund. Or, you can send a check (made payable to CRATOS) to CRATOS, PO Box 611, Cedar Rapids, IA 52406. You can designate your donation for the Wurlitzer, the Barton, or both. The people of Cedar Rapids thank you for your support and encouragement during these difficult times.

Marceau & Associates Pipe Organ Builders, Inc., Seattle, Washington
Trinity Parish Episcopal Church, Seattle, Washington

From the builder
My first contact with Trinity Parish took place in the summer of 1978, when, as an employee of Balcom & Vaughan Pipe Organs of Seattle, I was on the crew that removed the church’s 1902 Kimball instrument. I recall the rather thick layer of furnace dust and grime that made the removal fairly dirty! Since none of the windchests or reservoirs were to be retained in the new organ project, these components were destined for the dump. That project incorporated some of the original Kimball pipework, but not with any degree of success. I subsequently relocated to Portland, Oregon and founded Marceau Pipe Organs in 1985.
I had begun maintenance of the Trinity pipe organ in 1983, when Martin Olson was appointed organist/choirmaster. As the existing console began to show signs of advancing age, Marceau Pipe Organs was awarded the contract of building our first three-manual, tiered drawknob console. With the able assistance of Frans Bosman (who built the console shell), we assembled new components from P&S Organ Supply (keyboards), Harris Precision Products (stop action controls), and Solid State Logic (combination action—now Solid State Organ Systems), and installed this in the fall of 1989.
The second phase focused on a redesign of the organ chamber to accommodate new slider-pallet windchests (produced in the Marceau shop) and a façade that would pay homage to the original Kimball façade. The budget did not allow for the total number of stops to be installed at that time. It was through fate that this instrument was completed! The massive Nisqually earthquake of 2001 almost closed this historic building for good, if it were not for the unshakable vision of this congregation, led by their rector, the Rev. Paul Collins.
During the time in which the church was being rebuilt and upgraded, we were fortunate enough to acquire a large pipe organ of about 35 ranks. From this inventory, stops that were prepared for future addition could be added at about half the cost of new pipes. One of the unique trademarks of a Marceau pipe organ is the inclusion of vintage pipework that is rescaled, revoiced, and re-regulated to be successfully integrated with stops, both old and new. The Trinity Parish pipe organ is no exception. A quick glance at the stoplist suggests a number of musical possibilities that make it possible to interpret organ repertoire from Bach to Manz and everything in between!
In 2005, I moved back to Seattle to open a Seattle office for our activities in the Puget Sound region. In 2008, we moved into a small but very useful shop in the Ballard district and have seen our work increase dramatically since then. While I enjoy each project that comes through the shop, I will always think fondly of our Opus IV at Trinity Parish and how that instrument continues to be one of great satisfaction and pride.
—René A. Marceau

From the organist
I started as organist/music director at Trinity Parish Church in 1983, over 27 years ago. At that time, there was a recently remodeled pipe organ, with no façade pipes, grille cloth, and a used console that was gradually failing. I had worked with Marceau & Associates on other organ projects in the past and engaged him to build us a new console. This proved to be the start of a professional and personal friendship that has lasted many years! This was Marceau’s first console and was planned with tonal revisions and (hopefully) new pipework in the future. I didn’t know where the money was to come from, but I had a lot of faith. Shortly after the new console was built, notes started going dead, and we found out that the organ had used Perflex instead of leather; we faced a future with an increasing number of dead notes.
At this time the vestry encouraged us to look at the existing tonal plan, and the organ was totally rebuilt using slider chests. Each of the three arches of the organ had façade pipes installed, helping to keep the visual appearance of the organ consistent with the nineteenth-century English Country Gothic architecture. At this point, we were out of money and only about a third of the planned pipework was installed.
Our planning for fund raising came to an abrupt halt on Ash Wednesday 2001. The Nisqually earthquake hit about an hour before the 12:10 Ash Wednesday service. The organ was not too badly damaged, but the building was unusable. Part of the tower collapsed into the nave, and the north and south transept walls moved outward, so that daylight could be seen coming through the walls! We were red-tagged by the city, meaning that no one could go into the building. For almost five years we worshipped in the parish hall, using the piano and a lovely one-manual positive (built by Marceau), lent to us by the Seattle AGO chapter. At times we didn’t know if the money would be found to rebuild the church, but Trinity persevered and the millions of dollars needed were raised.
As we approached the completion of the church restoration, we realized that if we didn’t finish acquiring the missing pipework now, it might never happen. The vestry gave approval, and thanks to a lot of searching by René Marceau, we added the missing 20 ranks of pipes—all recycled pipework. Today, the 19th-century sanctuary has solid wood floors, hard reflective walls, and very little carpet. Thanks to Marceau’s voicing skills, the pipework from 1902 works with the ranks added in the 1970s and 2000s.
During the first several weeks in the rebuilt sanctuary and “new” organ, I was surprised that almost everyone stayed and listened quietly to the postlude, but I didn’t think it would last. I was proven wrong again! Four years later, almost everyone still stays for the postlude! Years ago, under the leadership of Ed Hanson, there was a weekly lunchtime organ recital every Wednesday. When the church and the organ were rebuilt, I decided to revive that tradition, and for some years now we have had a weekly organ recital, often featuring student organists from the area. These recitals, combined with other concerts here at Trinity, make this organ one of the most heard organs in the Seattle area.
—Martin Olson
Organist/music director

History
Trinity Episcopal Church has a long history as one of Seattle’s oldest congregations—and music has been a part of that history from the very beginning. While the parish’s first organ was a reed organ of unknown manufacture, the parish has the credit of being the first to bring a pipe organ to Seattle. Preserved vestry notes from February 2, 1882, page 82, indicate a signed order to buy an organ “of Mr. Bergstrom’s make” for $1,500. This is further corroborated in Thomas E. Jessett’s Pioneering God’s Country—The History of the Diocese of Olympia, 1853–1953, in which he states on page 33, “The first pipe organ in Washington was installed in Trinity Church, Seattle, in 1882.”
By 1900, the parish was ready to acquire a larger instrument, and a contract was drawn up towards the purchase of a larger pipe organ. The vestry even announced they were willing to spend $6,000 if necessary. Such was the importance of music to the parish!
A contract was signed with the Hutchings Organ Co. of Boston for an organ to cost $2,500 plus $138 for a water engine to provide wind. The organ was shipped in December 1900. Such a listing does not appear on the Hutchings opus list, so it was likely built under the name of Hutchings-Votey, whose opus list is not complete. Coincidentally, the parish requested Dr. Franklin S. Palmer of San Francisco to come test the completed organ and to play the dedicatory concert. Dr. Palmer would later become the organist of St. James R.C. Cathedral in Seattle, and was principal in the design and acquisition of that congregation’s well-known 4-manual, 1907 Hutchings-Votey. Sadly, the Hutchings-Votey only lasted about a year, and was destroyed by a fire within the church on January 19, 1902.
By May 2 of that same year, the vestry awarded a contract to the W. W. Kimball Co. of Chicago for a three-manual organ to cost $7,500. It had 30 speaking stops and 29 ranks, and despite the growing influence of orchestral organs, the Kimball was built more along mid-to-late 19th-century tonal designs, with a mostly complete 16′, 8′, 4′, 22⁄3′, and 2′ principal chorus on the Great, capped by an 8′ Orchestral Trumpet. The Swell reflected more of the orchestral influence, with one 16′ flue register, six 8′ flue registers, and only one 4′ flue register, plus an 8-8-8 reed complement. Even the Choir sported a 16′ flue, but included the standard 2′ Harmonic Piccolo and 8′ Clarinet among its stops. And the Pedal of 16-16-16-8 included a very fine wooden Violone. Monthly recitals were given by the organist, and often included a soloist, a quartet, or even the full choir.
In 1945 the organ was electrified by Charles W. Allen, successor to Kimball representative Arthur D. Longmore. An only slightly used Kimball console was acquired from the Scottish Rite Cathedral in Tacoma, one of two installed there. The chest primaries were electrified, some stops were moved from the Great to the Choir, and a few new ranks were added/substituted. The organ lasted pretty much unaltered in this form until 1977.
Beginning in 1975, Balcom & Vaughan Pipe Organs, Inc. of Seattle had been discussing options for rebuilding the Kimball at Trinity. Various stoplists and drawings were considered. In 1979 the parish finally decided upon a plan, and the organ was rebuilt. But the Balcom & Vaughan was essentially a new organ, on new chests, with predominantly new pipework, and retaining 12 selected voices from the venerable old Kimball. The impressive 1902 Kimball façades were eliminated, and little ‘buffets’ of exposed pipework took their place. The B & V was designed along “American Classic” lines akin to Aeolian-Skinner, which is where then B & V president, William J. Bunch, had been working for many years. While the new organ was more transparent-sounding than the Kimball, and offered more color in the way of mutations and mixtures, the blend between new and old was not entirely satisfying, nor did the brighter ensembles seem to adequately fill the church space.
In 1989 the Portland firm of Marceau & Associates provided a handsome new terraced drawknob console to replace the existing used Kimball stopkey console. Several preliminary stop changes were made with existing pipework to improve the sound of the organ. In 1995 Trinity Church awarded a contract to Marceau & Associates for the rebuilding of the existing organ. This effort sought to take the existing pipework and through rescaling, recombining, and revoicing, create a more cohesive whole, including appropriate new pipework. Each of the manual divisions now has a principal chorus in proper terraced dynamics. Part of this project was to recreate the three Kimball façades in spirit, but with a new twist. The church now has an eclectic 3-manual organ, with bold principals, colorful flutes, two strings with mated celestes, mutation voices, mixtures, and reeds of both chorus and solo colors. And all is housed behind a handsome façade of polished zinc principals in the original three bays, providing a sense of visual continuity with the past.
—Jim Stettner
Organ historian

Stoplist description
As with any instrument, the most critical areas of interest are the principal choruses. Our Opus IV is blessed with two divisions with 8′ Principals (Great and Positiv). The Great principal chorus is based on a normal scale 8′ Principal, with the low 19 notes in the façade. The 4′ Octave, 2′ Super Octave, and III–V Mixture are all stops retained from the 1978 project, rescaled and revoiced for a more energetic, colorful presence in the room. The Positiv principal chorus is 1–2 notes smaller, with a higher-pitched Mixture. Added to this chorus is the Sesquialtera II, of principal character, which imparts a “reedy” quality to the overall sound. Of particular note is the 8′ Principal. It is scaled 2 notes smaller than the Great 8′ Principal; when heard in the chancel it has a very Geigen-like quality, but takes on more character in the nave, and is a perfect complement to its “big brother.”
The Swell principal chorus, based on the 4′ level, includes a III–IV Mixture, which works well with the reeds in this division. The Pedal principal chorus is based on the 16′ Principal (of wood) and progresses up to the III Mixture, which includes a Tierce rank. I find this addition completes the Pedal chorus without the need to include the reeds.
The Great flutes (8′ Rohrflute, 4′ Koppelflute) provide the foundation for the rest of the flute stops. Contrasting and complementary stops appear in the Positiv (8′ Gedackt, 4′ Spillflute, 2′ Lochgedackt), with smoother-sounding stops in the Swell (8′ Holzgedackt, 4′ Nachthorn, 2′ Waldflute). Of particular note is the Positiv 2′ Lochgedackt, whose character is gentle enough to soften the assertive sounds of the Sesquialtera.
There are two sets of strings, found on the Swell and Positiv manuals. The Swell 8′ Salicional and Positiv 8′ Gemshorn are from the 1902 Kimball; the Voix Celeste is of an unknown builder, while the Gemshorn Celeste is an original Dolce built by Stinkens in the late 1960s.
It is interesting to note that all of the manual reeds were built by Stinkens at some point in time. My colleague, Frans Bosman, was very successful in regulating each stop to work well in both solo and ensemble roles. The Great 8′ Trompete is dark and robust in character, contrasting with the brighter, more aggressive Swell 8′ Trompette. The Swell 8′ Oboe is also bright but at least one or two dynamic levels softer. The unit Fagott rank is from the 1978 project, appearing in the Pedal only. It was extended to play on the Swell at both 8′ and 4′ pitches. The Positiv 8′ Krummhorn is scaled more as a Dulzian, giving this stop the power to add color to the Positiv chorus. The most surprising set of reeds is found in the Pedal. Both the 16′ Posaune/8′ Trumpet and 4′ Clarion are vintage pipes. There was some concern about tonal and dynamic blend; these fears were laid to rest when, after regulating these stops, they were the perfect balance to the full ensemble!
There are Tierce ranks in every division. The Great mounted Cornet (located behind the façade pipes) can be used for classic French repertoire, the Positiv Sesquialtera II can be used in both solo and ensemble roles, the Swell Cornet decomposée allows for the individual mutations to be used separately or in combination, and the Pedal Mixture contains the tierce rank and is quite effective in chorus work.
—René A. Marceau

The Parish of All Saints, Ashmont; Dorchester, Massachusetts

Skinner Organ Company,
Opus 708—1929

Restoration by Joe Sloane, Jonathan Ortloff,
Jonathan Ambrosino

The City of Boston boasts Episcopal churches both grand and humble. In the Anglo-Catholic tradition, two stand out. The better known is the Church of the Advent on Beacon Hill, one of the earliest parishes in the United States to propagate Oxford Movement principles. The Advent’s sister congregation is the Parish of All Saints, Ashmont, in Dorchester. Annexed to Boston in 1870, Dorchester today is a patchwork of class and culture, its lower neighborhoods filled with triple-deckers once intended as worker housing, its grander homes standing proud on the hills and parks.

The Parish of All Saints was founded as a chapel in 1867, serving primarily English railway workers. By 1872 the congregation built a wood-frame church. One snowy Sunday in 1879 a carriage driver, unable to take his Unitarian master and mistress from Milton to downtown King’s Chapel, suggested they stop to worship at All Saints instead. Struck by the experience, Colonel Oliver and Mary Lothrop Peabody were eventually confirmed in the Episcopal Church, and began a relationship of beneficence to All Saints that resulted in a pivotal example of American architecture. All Saints is the first major work of Ralph Adams Cram and Bertram Grosvenor Goodhue, instigating a new Gothic revival that would dominate American church building until World War II. First inhabited in 1894, All Saints was embellished for the next three decades as something of a laboratory for Gothic design. Two chapels were added, and eventually all three altars richly developed. The stone reredos can be seen as a foreshadowing of Goodhue’s later masterpiece at St. Thomas Fifth Avenue; in the Lady Chapel triptych stands Johannes Kirchmayer’s most exquisite carving.

Despite its elegant home, All Saints remains the proud working-class sibling of its posh Beacon Hill sister. The congregation is diverse in that word’s un-political sense, reflecting its neighborhood, the heritage of Anglican missionaries in the Caribbean and West Indies, and that strand of humanity that will always drive past other churches for liturgical expression in this style. The Choir of Men and Boys, founded in 1888 and once among dozens in the Diocese of Massachusetts, is today the last surviving. It offers music at the Sunday High Mass and special feasts, but also safe haven and pocket income for boys of many stripes. Notable musicians have served here, none more famous than Archibald T. “Doc” Davison, who later went to Harvard and found fame as conductor of the Glee Club; and later Herbert Peterson, Joseph Payne, Michael Kleinschmidt, and Fred Backhaus. Organ scholars and assistants have included Ray Nagem, Hatsumi Miura, and Andrew Sheranian, the latter returning in 2010 to assume his present position as organist and choirmaster.

If Ernest Skinner once complained that Cram made beautiful churches with terrible organ chambers, Ashmont’s is the sorry prototype—a shanty with insubstantial walls and inhospitable rooflines. In 1902 Hutchings-Votey provided 28 stops on tubular-pneumatic action; in 1910 came the present carved façades, tracery, and pipes. William Laws electrified the action in 1930 and moved the console to its present location, though retaining a mechanical swell linkage, parts of which survive. Through the late 1950s and early 1960s, Boston organbuilder Thad Outerbridge made considerable tonal revisions, transforming the original Taftian tonal scheme into something more energetic, articulate, and brilliant. This was done with respectable craft and for next to nothing on the original chassis, which, in contravention of the usual mid–20th-century tale that electro-pneumatic actions can only be short-lived, remained in functioning order for almost eight decades.

When in the late 1970s failure became too widespread to ignore, the church’s devoted musician, Herb Peterson, cast about for a rebuild. The project, done with good intentions by builders “from away,” resulted in a mechanical mayhem of old and new parts. The organ limped along from 1981 until C.B. Fisk installed a fine three-manual, Opus 103, in a new nave gallery in 1995. For a time, it provided all accompaniment, but secure choral leadership proved too challenging at such distance. Judicious rebuilding of the chancel organ by George Bozeman in 1999 allowed 20 of the 34 stops to play again. From that point on, a pattern developed whereby the organist plays voluntaries and hymns on the Fisk, and walks forward to conduct choral portions. (The structure of the Mass, and the placement of the minor propers, makes this a more logical commute than may first appear.)

However diverse its congregation, All Saints suffers no confusion of liturgical or musical aims. The only paid positions are the rector, organist, and professional choristers (including all boys and teens); there is neither sexton nor secretary, but vigorous lay involvement. In modern times, a modest endowment and faithful pledging have kept the parish in humble health. When the realities of a 120-year-old structure forced a full-scale restoration, it was clear that what the building demanded was well beyond what the parish could ever hope to afford. In a stroke of fortune almost too staggering for comprehension, the church received, first, an anonymous gift to cover an in-depth existing conditions survey, and, later, an eight-figure grant to fund not only the vast majority of a comprehensive renovation but also a matching amount toward a $2 million preservation endowment. These developments energized the parish to undertake additional fundraising, completing a project many had considered impossible.

As these events unfolded, the plight of the chancel organ was never entirely absent—the cherry on a sundae that itself could scarcely be afforded. But certain gentlemen of the choir were not entirely indisposed to vision, and ears pricked up when one of my tuning helpers, organist Joshua Lawton, told me about Skinner Opus 708 in the now-closed First Methodist Church of North Adams, Massachusetts. While a student at Williams, Josh had served a year as organist at First Methodist, and he gave good reports of the organ’s tone and unaltered condition. A visit in October 2011 disclosed one of the last instruments built at Skinner’s subsidiary plant in Westfield, Massachusetts, of exactly the right size and scope for All Saints. A second visit in December included All Saints’ rector, Father Michael J. Godderz, and a group of opinion leaders. Everyone liked what they saw and heard, so another choir gentleman, Timothy Van Dyck, set about writing friends of his parents, who just happened to be lovers of Skinner organs and were prepared to donate generously. Their initial gift made possible the purchase, removal, and storage of Opus 708 in June 2012, a task undertaken by Joe Sloane, myself, members of the Organ Clearing House, and a group of volunteers from All Saints. The example of our generous couple eventually inspired others, including the Joseph Bradley Charitable Foundation. A September 2014 fundraising concert by William Porter, on the Fisk and Skinner organs at Harvard University’s Memorial Church, brought our Skinner project to full funding.

The enthusiasm for a Skinner at All Saints was rooted in the conviction that any accompanimental instrument should equal the resplendence of the building’s other appointments. Since the Fisk handily addresses literature and congregational singing, a chancel organ could focus on choral support without distraction. An organ in the orchestral style was not as important as having a palette of smooth, subtle, and timeless tone that, even at its most energetic, would not compete with voices. In Opus 708 we were grateful to find equal balance between chorus work and color stops, warm foundations and telling mixtures.

From a restorer’s point of view, Opus 708 had led a charmed life. The cool mountain air had kept summer humidity at bay, while a damp basement blower location seems to have prevented dry winter baking. Downsides were few. Some water damage in the Swell had led to compromised rebuilding, but in only one offset chest. And the basement dampness eventually encouraged a vivid yellow mold to overtake both blower and static reservoir. These components were left in place, where they doubtless glow still. Otherwise, the ethic of this project was not unlike that applied to the church itself: restore as conservatively as possible, avoid anachronism, place reliability and longevity above all. This philosophy meant that any technique that might benefit the mechanism—dowel-nutting for wind-tightness, replacing cork gaskets with leather, more securely fitting reservoir wind boxes—was eagerly adopted. Where some aspect of Westfield construction was merely different from the Boston Skinner factory, it was preserved; where sub-standard, it was sensitively refashioned to promote wind-tightness and seasonal security. We also felt it was time to reconsider certain cosmetic practices that have become commonplace in the restoration of these instruments. In the end, we preferred to introduce no new shellac on wood or common metal pipes, to retain and carefully refit the original tuning sleeves, and to wipe clean most wooden surfaces and keep their gorgeous finish intact rather than sand or introduce additional coats of shellac. It was necessary to refinish the three-manual console cabinet and bench to match the new surroundings, but all internal machinery was restored, including the original combination action. We never considered any other option, and thought it beneficial that organ scholars learn the old skills of hand-registration on this manageable little instrument. The Skinner console sits where the Laws one did, a bit higher for better visibility. With its original ivory and lustrous wood, it seems entirely at home.

Re-engineered in a now-sturdy chamber, Opus 708 speaks with both greater clarity and profundity than the old organ ever did. Fortunately, Cram’s thorny chamber is similar to the one in North Adams, but it was still sheer luck that CCC of the Contrebasse (the organ’s only mitered flue pipe) tucks up less than a half-inch from the ceiling. In the end, one stop had to be added. Part of All Saints’ prior chancel organ was a copper horizontal trumpet in the nave tower, which some in the congregation were keen to see preserved. This we have done, but inside the organ chamber, using a Skinner windchest, Skinner reservoir, and Skinner pipes, including a 16-foot extension. The blower for the old stop has been incorporated as a booster, providing the Tromba with its 12-inch pressure in a line that continues under the chancel to wind the console. Skinner electro-pneumatic switching from the 1928 Princeton Chapel organ (kindly donated by the A. Thompson-Allen Company) conveys the necessary signals; Tromba and Trombone knobs from the 1926 Skinner console at Boston’s Trinity Church (generously contributed by Nelson Barden) have been fitted, displacing original Chimes knobs. The engraving doesn’t match; we don’t mind.

The two people most responsible for this project are Joe Sloane and Jonathan Ortloff. Joe worked for Nelson Barden for 25 years and is one of the most thorough and sensitive restorers anywhere of this type of instrument. Jon trained with Steve Russell in Vermont and spent two years at Spencer Organ Company before recently establishing his own enterprise. With deliberation and patience over 20 months, these gentlemen have reviewed, engineered, restored, and considered how this job might best unfold. Joe’s son Ian has been on hand to help, and I have had a voice in the organ’s engineering, layout, and other major decision points, as well as restoring flue pipes, undertaking general coordination, and all contractual and financial management.

In this effort our small team has been materially aided by colleagues of longstanding. Our friends at Spencer Organ Company provided a good deal of leathering, as well as assistance in flue pipe restoration, principally from Martin Near. The good men of the A. Thompson-Allen Company “found” a hole in their schedule to help with offset chest and tremolo restoration. Christopher and Catherine Broome did their usual superb job on the organ’s five reeds, particularly in making a convincing 73-note register out of three partial Skinner ranks. Mike Morvan did beautiful restoration on the keyboards, while Amory Atkins, Terence Atkin, Joshua Wood, and Dean Conry brought their usual steam-locomotive energy to dismantling, moving, and building everything in their path. Finally, Duane Prill took time from his busy schedule to help in the tonal finishing. The organ was brought into use on May 10, in a fairly spectacular packed-house evensong in honor of Our Lady, which also celebrated the 50th anniversary of the ordination of the Reverend F. Washington Jarvis, priest associate of the parish for 39 years. The instrument saw completion this month.

•

Of the 750-odd instruments to bear “Skinner” on their nameplates prior to the merger with Aeolian, 27 were installed within the city limits of Boston. These included church organs such as Old South and Trinity; theatre organs at the Capitol (Allston) and the downtown Metropolitan; five residence installations, including one with a tin façade; and the factory studio, on which player rolls were recorded and clients wooed.

Of these 27, not a single one survives—certainly not in any form Ernest Skinner would recognize. They are either altered beyond recognition or discarded. Therefore, to return a Skinner organ to Boston (even one built in Westfield) goes beyond the satisfaction of giving a good organ a worthy home. It simply feels better knowing that this pivotal American organ-builder is now represented not merely in his hometown but right in his old neighborhood, just a few miles from his old Dorchester factory and first house. To execute the project in a purposely conservative manner seems just as right for All Saints, a church in which the old ways hold forth not archaically but with purpose, vitality, and joy.

—Jonathan Ambrosino

Larry Palmer is harpsichord editor of THE DIAPASON.

Remembering Wm. Neil Roberts
(1929–2011)
Contemplating an invitation to play a harpsichord recital in California and not knowing where to find a suitable instrument, I turned to Gustav Leonhardt for some advice. His response, “You can’t go wrong with an instrument by William Neil Roberts and Anthony Brazier,” led me to that Los Angeles team of harpsichord builders and early music promoters. Diary entries show that my initial query to Roberts and Brazier resulted in their delivering a very fine small Flemish double harpsichord for the 1981 recital at Chapman College, south of the city, as well as an invitation to play the March 8 and 9, 1980 solo recitals for their Harpsichord Center series in Los Angeles.
Thus began an association that resulted in my inviting the more-experienced Neil to help with planning and to share teaching assignments for the first Southern Methodist University Harpsichord Workshop at the school’s New Mexico campus, the Fort Burgwin Research Center near Taos. In August 1988 Neil and Tony drove cross-country from the Pacific Coast to “the land of enchantment,” transporting not only two of their instruments to complement the ones being brought from Dallas, but also, in a bit of luck, serving as emergency transportation for Neil’s student Ed Petron, a participant in that and each subsequent workshop, whose aging Volkswagen had given up the ghost outside Albuquerque as he drove eastward, fortuitously noticed by Tony as the Harpsichord Center van nearly sped by the stranded motorist.
The instruments were, indeed, superb. So was the teaching. I particularly recall Neil’s inspired connection of the term “fringing” (a non-simultaneity of bass and upper chord notes) with a possible Anglicization of the word “frenching,” as indeed this technique for softening certain textures at the harpsichord is a particularly French one. After the lengthy closing recital given by students, Neil shared some memories of similar workshop recitals past, including the daunting recall of an already very long California program that morphed into a marathon when the final player decided she wanted to play the entire Goldberg Variations—with repeats! Both from experience and this anecdote we learned to put strict time limits in place for such closing events!
Invited back for the next summer offering at Fort Burgwin, Neil was sidelined by an attack of kidney stones only days before the event, but hoped to be able to travel. It was not to be: an early morning call from Tony on day one of the summer program relayed the bad news that they would be unable to make the trip. I was fortunate to find Susan Ferré as an immediate replacement, but with the largest enrollment of all the seventeen workshops, and only the two harpsichords that we had brought from Dallas, this extremely wet week proved a challenge for all of us. The Roberts-Brazier duo was sorely missed.
Neil and Tony did have one subsequent summer outing at the Fort during the first segment of a two-week workshop scheduled in July 1990. I did not observe Neil’s insightful interaction with the small group of students, since he had made it clear that he did not want me to attend his classes, but I remember the sensitive French works on a duo flute and harpsichord recital with Tony as the highlight of the week’s faculty concert offerings. I had assumed that most of the students would find the opportunity—to learn both from Neil’s teaching and from a second week in which Susan Ferré would coach them in continuo playing with her Texas Baroque Ensemble artists—an irresistible package deal. But, in reality, half of the class enrolled in either one or the other week, meaning that our expenses doubled while our tuition income basically halved, and we closed the books deeply “in the red.” A double session was not offered again.
The national convention of the American Guild of Organists was held in Los Angeles in summer 2004. It served as a focal point around which to organize pre- and post-meeting stays with Neil and Tony, memorable both for the vocal interjections of Gus, their parrot, and for the opportunity to observe Neil’s new interest in non-harpsichord-related painting. During our visit Neil was frequently to be found in the studio, working on his evocative watercolors. We departed Burbank’s Bob Hope Airport that July with new purchases for the Palmer-Putman art collection: the framed sketch of a friend relaxing with his three dachshunds, and a limited edition signed photograph of Neil’s Portrait of Dr. Bell, violinist Joshua Bell’s psychologist father Alan, a work that continues to elicit strong reactions from those who see it. If the eyes truly are the gateway to the soul, Neil’s concentration on the upper part of Dr. Bell’s face is certainly apt, striking, and unexpected. The unique 2002 painting belongs to Los Angeles collectors Kay and Jack Lachter; thus, the rest of us, including Dr. Bell’s family, must remain satisfied with a print edition of ten numbered examples.
Neil was born in Iowa on June 2, 1929. He succumbed to lymphoma in Los Angeles on April 7, 2011. Concerts had taken him to central Europe, Taiwan, Tahiti, Mexico, and the Casals Festival in Puerto Rico, in addition to the continental United States. Memorable career moments included frequent appearances on American Public Media, especially those on Bill McLaughlin’s “Saint Paul Sunday.”
Roberts’ musical growth was influenced by harpsichordists Alice Ehlers, Ralph Kirkpatrick, Gustav Leonhardt, and the many artists sponsored by the Southern California Baroque Association, of which he was president. His solo harpsichord recordings covered a wide range of composers and styles: Byrd to Bach, Scott Joplin rags (“even before they were discovered by E. Power Biggs,” Neil pointed out), and his beloved French repertoire, including period transcriptions from Lully and other solo keyboard works by D’Anglebert, played stylishly on two then-recent Roberts & Brazier instruments for a 1981 Nonesuch disc. Obviously, it is extremely rare for a professional player to build his own harpsichord. (I can recall only the young Tom Pixton doing a similar thing.)
Penning a laconic dedication on my complimentary copy of that long-playing record, Neil wrote, “I’d better get a good review!”
Accomplished, dear friend!
Finally, to complete an arch form of associations, my May 2011 harpsichord recital in Santa Rosa, California, was played on the 1988 Franco-Flemish double instrument belonging to Concert Artist Cooperative founder and director Beth Zucchino. It seemed appropriate to add one of the most intensely moving commemorative pieces from the 17th-century solo repertoire to this program, Louis Couperin’s ineffably beautiful F-major Tombeau de Mr. Blancrocher, as my way of remembering Wm. Neil Roberts.
Among Neil’s gifted students, two outstanding ones, now professionally active in the San Francisco Bay Area, are Gilbert Martinez (attracted to that first Fort Burgwin Workshop through Neil’s influence) and Katherine Roberts Perl (who continues Neil’s rare combination of distinguished harpsichord performance and skillful technical expertise in the maintenance of the instrument), both of whom have contributed to this memoir. Further information was offered by David Calhoun of Seattle; Elaine Funaro, through the Aliénor Newsletter for Spring 2011, viewable at www.harpsichord-now.org; and by Neil’s business and life partner, Anthony Brazier, who survives him. 

Comments and news items are always welcome. Address them to Dr. Larry Palmer, Division of Music, Southern Methodist University, Dallas, TX 75275. E-mails to [email protected].