Centennial Celebration:
A new beginning
Early in the 20th century, the organ functioned as a community resource. Municipal instruments proliferated, organ concerts were attended by throngs, and competition for popular attention was relatively minimal. Organ installations garnered plenty of press, people enjoyed the effects of which the organ was capable, and famous recitalists (Lemare, Guilmant, Dupré, Bonnet) drew huge crowds.
But things change, always, and for the organ, the post-war (WWII) cultural shifts were monumental. Radio and television offered easy ‘entertainment’, and, along with the proliferation of symphony orchestras, undercut the civic organ’s necessity as a musical means and medium. And an increasingly intellectual direction in concert-giving (and music appreciation) stratified audiences.
Even when some of us were growing up (1950s-plus), the organ had two pivotal superstars whose prominence (and PR savvy) positioned them prominently in the minds of the general population. In those days, players still were the focus, instruments second, and the music simply the conduit.
But the fascination with organ history, period instruments, repertoire, and performance practice has taken the focus off of the virtuoso, and while we have learned a great deal about many things organic, along the way the cult of the performer has faded, and with it the audience.
Still, it could be argued that at this present time we are in a ‘golden age’ for the organ. The number of astonishingly talented young players is amazing, with more skilled youngsters on the way. New instruments of superb quality, in an incredible array of styles and venues, are being built, while historic organs representing every possible era and nationality have been carefully refurbished. We know more about and play more repertoire than ever before, and contemporary composers continue to be attracted to the instrument.
Yet the general public seems uninvolved. Even concerts on the big, new organs in our concert halls generally do not generate crowds of a size in any way comparable to their counterparts in the 1920s and ’30s.
So, unlike 50 years ago when the scene was lively and fun and the person-in-the-street was engaged by organ activity, these days we struggle to demonstrate relevance and can’t simply go along for the ride. Though in so many ways the situation is better than ever, the challenges for the future are as great as they have ever been (and there have been plenty of challenges in past centuries).
As one colleague recently reflected: “We must enhance the quality of life of our listeners, and reach out to communicate the emotional aspects of our music to our audiences, or else all just becomes more noise pollution, something of which we have too much already.”
I expect and hope that The Diapason will be an active participant in, conduit of, and catalyst for those processes that will keep the organ alive in the 21st century, as it has for the past 100 years. If so, this Centennial Celebration will be a new beginning.
Anyone who is interested in the pipe organ has, at some point or another, been introduced to The Diapason. The combination of this magazine’s sleek, non-standard proportions and its efficiently packaged and engaging content proved irresistible, particularly to the young neophyte.
But once the curiosity value had faded, The Diapason—this rare and informative ‘inside passage’ to the realm of the King of Instruments—continued to beguile with its news (and gossip), the important discoveries, and the thoughtful musings on historical and philosophical organ-related topics.
I first subscribed to The Diapason while still a teen, but then let the subscription lapse (money was tight and I could access the journal at the library). Sooner than later I wanted to reinstate my connection, and have been a regular reader for longer than seems comfortable to confess.
Obviously, others are in the same boat, else we’d not be celebrating a centenary here. Heaven knows that the organ, which itself has enjoyed the passage of numerous centennials, generates more copy than any one publication can embrace. I applaud The Diapason for doing its part while maintaining its quality of reportage—and quirky but charming format—with élan and grace through these many decades. Bravo! Now, bring on the second hundred years!
—Michael Barone
Reflections on The Diapason
I wonder how many others were as guilty as I of spending far too much study time in high school and college poring over old issues of The Diapason? Those pages, filled with news of the ups and downs of the organ industry and all of the colorful characters in lofts and factories, were an irresistible lure to daydream about the past and what the future might hold for a young man who also spent far too much time sketching stoplists during lectures. When I joined Schoenstein & Co. in 1977, the opportunities for such fun increased: the company archive started with the April 1911 issue.
What I liked then, and still do today, is that the format of The Diapason has changed only slightly over all these years (not even as much as The New Yorker)! What other magazine in business since 1909 can say that? In fact, how many magazines that old are still in business? The constancy of The Diapason, which stuck to its guns through the great boom of factory organ building during its first 20 years, the tough times of depression and war, the second big boom in the 1950s, and then the controversies that occurred about all aspects of organ design, while the structure of the industry changed from predominantly large manufacturers to a mix of large and small—a kind of cottage industry turning out every kind of tonal and mechanical style imaginable—gave me the feeling that no matter how much things changed, there would always be a pipe organ culture in America.
A delightful recent aspect of The Diapason is its mixture of serious and silly. The Diapason makes room (literally) for both. It is a place for lengthy, academic articles on arcane subjects and also for lighter fare—just check out the classified ad section! [See examples from the whimsy file, page 14.]
I hope The Diapason will continue to stay the course, amid shifting currents, in its second century. As our culture evolves more and more quickly, the organ world will value a familiar friend—The Diapason.
—Jack M. Bethards
Siegfried E. Gruenstein’s success
When Siegfried E. Gruenstein began publication of The Diapason in Chicago in December 1909, he was the first person to create a general-purpose journal devoted to the organ since Everett E. Truette’s effort in Boston in the 1890s. Truette’s journal, The Organ, unfortunately lasted only through two volumes, from May 1892 to April 1894. Truette’s precedent, in turn, was Eugene Thayer’s The Organists’ Journal and Review, itself also a short-lived publication issued in Boston from March 1874 to January 1877. (Both the Thayer and the Truette have been reprinted in complete sets, which are available from the Organ Historical Society.)
The Diapason, however, was to have a different fate. Here it is, still being published a hundred years later, a feat that has been matched by only a handful of journals throughout American history. Publishing is a hard business, and one fraught with constant tension over printers’ deadlines, obtaining and editing copy from multiple contributors, keeping advertisers and subscribers happy, and the like. It is also not usually highly profitable because of the relative mismatch between overhead and operating expenses versus what advertisers and subscribers are willing to pay for distribution and content, respectively. Cost issues were the factors in the demise of the above-mentioned journals, undoubtedly also affected by the fact that the organ world was, and still is, very “thin” compared to circulation numbers possible for mass-market publications.
However, Gruenstein’s effort was timely. The organ market in the United States was reasonably affluent and growing, and by 1909 was entering a period of significant technological change, with increasing demand for instruments built with forms of electric action to replace traditional mechanical-action organs. (Tubular-pneumatic action, a transitional form of technology, had obtained a foothold in the market beginning in the 1880s, but it was not destined to survive much longer.) Thus many organbuilding firms entered the field, and existing ones grew substantially, in the decade after The Diapason was founded. (To give some sense of numerical perspective about this period, M. P. Möller, Inc., for one example, gradually expanded its factory to the point that it could produce an organ every day; the combined annual output of the ten largest manufactories in peak years before the Great Depression began has been estimated at around 1,000 instruments.) Soon there was plenty of publicity about new organs and the activities of organbuilders to go around.
The Diapason became known as the journal where one could find multiple stoplists, descriptions, and pictures of new organs each month, and of course for organists, reading such material is almost akin to an addiction. Usually, an instrument was guaranteed publicity twice—when a contract was announced, and when it was installed and dedicated; often, readers could find snippets of work-in-progress news as well. The journal also promoted the activities of organists, publishing summaries of recital programs, and tracking their careers and travels. To amass such detail, and then publish it regularly every month, must have been a herculean task for Gruenstein, but he did it. Advertisers and subscribers flocked to The Diapason in droves, and he effectively was able to “corner” the market, because no other general-purpose organ periodical exerted significant competition. The American Organist, in its original incarnation as the “house journal” of the American Guild of Organists, was no match for The Diapason until T. Scott Buhrman’s editorship from the 1940s to the 1960s. Regardless, even in spite of the lean years of the Great Depression and World Wars I and II, The Diapason has held its own to the present.
That Gruenstein’s business model was successful is shown by The Diapason today, which still largely follows the format he established. In general, as readership demographics change, periodicals must adjust in order to survive, but a loyal following by organists, organbuilders, and friends of the organ has continued to ensure The Diapason’s success. And of course, today’s “gossip” becomes tomorrow’s “primary source material” for historians, and in that sense, The Diapason’s rich store of back issues, which is often plumbed for information about the twentieth-century organ, is priceless. With adaptation to changes in technology and electronic publishing, here’s to hoping that it will continue to be published indefinitely, and therefore also prove to be a gold mine for information about the organ in the twenty-first century as well.
—Michael D. Friesen
Celebrating a Centennial
The Diapason—what a treasure trove of American organ history! I have leafed through all its pages, discovering not just the facts I was particularly interested in, but also the broad contexts surrounding those facts. For the person who really wants to understand the “ups and downs” of the past century’s organ world, I suggest a decade-by-decade prowl through old issues of The Diapason. Of course, such a process is by its nature leisurely, but it compensates for inefficiency with its revelations about the evolution of style, and changing opinions regarding the essential nature of the organ.
Facts are also there in abundance. One particularly thorough example of journalistic reporting is a blow-by-blow description of the 1936–1937 Federal Trade Commission trials to determine if the electronic instrument developed by the Hammond Clock Company was indeed an organ, and if it could produce effects equal to those of a pipe organ. At one point in the trials, block and tackle were used to raise a Hammond instrument to the top of a pole for some outdoor acoustical tests. Well, you’ll just have to read the whole story in those old Diapasons. Then in the 1940s there were the chronicles of World War II: young organists and organ builders drafted into the armed forces; organ shops converted to war work; restrictions on the use of materials essential for the war effort. So many stories!
One wonders how our own time will appear to the reader half a century or more in the future. However complex and uncertain our present time may seem as we experience it, that lucky reader will be able to see the big picture—where we’ve been, where we’re going—by leafing through the pages of volume 100 and succeeding volumes of The Diapason’s Second Century.
—Orpha Ochse
The Diapason at the century mark
I first encountered The Diapason as a teen-aged baby-sitter. The youngsters were the offspring of my organ teacher, and I minded them in exchange for organ lessons. The latest issue of The Diapason was usually on her coffee table, and after the kids had been tucked into bed, I would read it from cover to cover, soaking up all that arcane information about organ recitals, organists, and the latest new organs in each monthly issue as only a young person newly introduced to the fascinating world of the organ could. By the time I was off to college I had my own subscription, which continues to this day.
While various general musical periodicals had carried news and occasional articles pertaining to organs and organists during the 19th century, it was only near the end of that century that any English-language journals dealing exclusively with the organ made their appearance, the earliest in North America being Eugene Thayer’s Organist’s Quarterly Journal and Review, 1874–1876. Others, equally short-lived, would follow. But it would appear that it was not until the first decade of the 20th century that a large enough potential readership had evolved to sustain a substantial national organ periodical. Thus in 1909 Siegfried Emanuel Gruenstein, a journalist for the Chicago Evening Post and organist of the Lake Forest Presbyterian Church, melded his two professional interests and established The Diapason, the first issue of which appeared in December 1909.
Over the years, The Diapason has served at various times as the official journal of the Organ Builders Association of America, the National Association of Organists, the Canadian College of Organists, the Hymn Society, and the American Guild of Organists. Eventually these organizations either ceased to exist or produced their own periodicals, and for the last several decades The Diapason has stood on its own feet. Today, having outlived various later competitors, it still stands as the only independent organ-related periodical still published in America. And, having reached the century mark, it is also the oldest, and still going strong.
To browse through back issues of The Diapason is to watch the entire history of the American organ in the twentieth century unfold in print and picture. The lives of numerous organists, well known or obscure, are chronicled from their debut recital or first church position to their obituaries. Organ builders come to prominence, change leadership, merge, and fade away or close. Organs for major churches, colleges and cathedrals are featured, many of them to be later replaced by newer organs that are likewise featured. Changing tastes in organ literature are reflected in reviews and recital programs, and contemporary composers of every period critiqued or interviewed. We can trace the rise and fall of residence and theatre organs, and the evolutionary history of the orchestral, American classic, neo-Baroque and eclectic movements in tonal design through stoplists and commentary, as well as opinionated give-and-take in the Letters to the Editor. Even the advertisements (including the classifieds) have a story to tell. And this tradition of chronicling the American organ scene continues into the 21st century.
Read any book about an organist, organ composer, or organ builder of the 20th century, as well as many books and articles concerning organs, organ music and organists, and one is more likely than not to find The Diapason cited in footnotes and bibliography. Researchers (including this writer) love its inimitable resources—and earnestly hope that all 100 years of it will one day be digitized in keyword-searchable form. But we read it too as the denizens of our little organ world have always read it, to keep up with what is going on among our contemporaries and to benefit from their scholarship in worthwhile articles. And yes, I still read every issue cover to cover when it arrives!
—Barbara Owen
The Diapason:
100 years and counting
My sincere congratulations on the 100th anniversary of The Diapason! This historic journal—the longest-lived of its type in the world—has faithfully chronicled the history of organs, organists, church music, and related fields in an informative, interesting, and educational manner. Further, it has done so fairly and without bias as ideas and fads of organ culture have changed over the years.
I received my first issue of The Diapason in 1946 when, as a young teen-ager, I joined the American Guild of Organists. To me, at that age, the primary benefit of AGO membership was the monthly arrival of this fascinating publication, which was then the official journal of the Guild. It immediately enlarged my view and knowledge of a profession that was to become the focus of my life. I devoured every word of each issue, and over this period of nearly 63 years have saved all 750 copies, thinking that someday when I was old I’d sit on the porch and reread them. That hasn’t happened yet, but I have on numerous occasions consulted back copies for news and specific articles.
Soon after I entered Northwestern University in 1948, I was introduced to S. E. Gruenstein, the founder, editor and publisher of The Diapason. He was a kindly gentleman, interested in all matters related to the organ world, and was especially encouraging to young organists. Over the years his successors have continued to update and enlarge the journal. The look and the content have continued to grow and have reached a high standard of excellence.
The longevity of The Diapason affirms that it continues to reach many organists and enthusiasts who believe in the quality and value of its offerings. I am certain that others join me in expressing the hope that the advent of a new century of publication will herald its indefinite continuation.
—Frederick Swann
Recollections of The Diapason
When I started reading The Diapason I was about 10 years old—it was probably 1947. I remember the many pages of tiny print listing dozens of organ recital programs from around the county. I assume that they were all set by hand with individual pieces of type. I also recall that there were lots of advertisements for organ pipes for sale. I responded to several of these with letters, which I hoped would not reveal my age or inability to pay. I had visions of buying some ten ranks and building an organ with them. Congratulations on 100 great years.
—John Weaver
