"We Americans can make our most significant
contribution to the history of the organ if we just remember that, above all,
the organ is expected to be a musical instrument. If its sound can attract and
increase the interests of the general public as well as that of musicians and
composers, it will have fulfilled its purpose . . ."
--John Brombaugh1
Posthumous panegyrics--there's something
suspicious about them. I once attended a funeral of an aunt, whose grandson got
up to the pulpit and offered a eulogy brimming with praiseful ooze. In my pew I
overheard a relative whisper to another, "He didn't call her twice
in the last five years." It's easy to gush over what is gone.
It's harder to praise what is still here.
As I write this it is January 20, less than 48 hours after
that indelible, abhorrent moment--the moment when I heard the appalling
news out of Jamaica Plain. My emotions right now? Melancholy. Unfillable void.
Grief. I don't want to write from those emotions.
Instead, I offer you words I wrote before January 18, when
the organ resided tranquilly, as we thought it would forever.
Only twenty hours before the fire started, I wrote Brian
Jones that switching church jobs in 2001
was definitely an adjustment for me. I think in a sense I
was in "mourning." The Hook just had that silvery sound, every pipe
of it.2
In the 1994 program notes to Volume I of No Room at the Inn,
I wrote
In terms of the beauty of individual ranks, this organ is
without rival in Boston, the other Hooks included.
A strong statement, considering that within one square
kilometer of Jamaica Plain there are two other three-manual Hooks from the
1850s. One of them, at the Unitarian Church, Thomas Murray made famous by his
Mendelssohn recordings. Though that Hook is freestanding and boasts a Pedal
Trombone, Susan Armstrong shared my opinion. "Sure, everyone likes the
Unitarian Hook, because it's louder and has the Trombone. But your Hook
is a lady."3 Still, I thought Susan and I were alone in our preference
for Opus 253. But no less than William T. Van Pelt was quoted by the Boston
Globe as saying, "Though cherished in their own respects, the other Hook
organs in Jamaica Plain could not match the sound of the one at First
Baptist."4
There may have been a reason for this. Starting around 1881,
many of the area Hooks were entrusted to a Canadian immigrant named Erasme
Lahaise (1851-1949), who worked for the Hook firm and personally met one
or both of the Hook brothers. He, his children, and grandchildren cared for
Opus 253 until its demise. During the 1920s and '30s, Eddie
Lahaise--son of Erasme, brother of Henri, and uncle of Robert and Richard--lived
down the street from First Baptist.
[Then-organist] Merton Stoddard [also] lived very close to
the church. The two met nearly every Saturday, and what little fiddling that
was done to Opus 253 was carried out during that period. The pitch was lowered
from A-448 to A-440, the Swell Tremulant was slowed to its present, rather
luscious rate, and the Great-to-Pedal Reversible . . . and new Balanced Swell
Pedal were installed. The only other known alteration was the slight revoicing
of the 17 Stopped Bass pipes on the Great. The mouths were raised a bit so as
to match the Clarabella Treble in power.5
Some say the Clarabella was revoiced as well. No matter:
that was a flute that no one could stop talking about. Said Dick Lahaise,
"It's like pouring cream."6
Could it be that those years of expert maintenance by Eddie
Lahaise--who, like the other Lahaises, had direct Hook knowledge--had
something to do with the smooth, silvery sound that Opus 253 emanated, that je
ne sais quoi that the other two Jamaica Plain Hooks lacked?
Six years passed before the release of Volume II of No Room
at the Inn. The passage of time in no way diminished my fascination with the
instrument.
December of 2000 [marked] my twelfth Christmas at First
Baptist. The organ still teaches, still inspires. . . . [Regarding the
console,] no one was thinking about comfort in 1859. . . . But for all the
discomfort, for all the crashing of the stopknobs and clicking of the keys, all
it takes is a few notes to remind me of why I'm still in Jamaica Plain.
The sound! I still say that, in terms of beauty of sound, this is the best
organ in Boston. I never play it without feeling transported.7
On 18 June 2003, I wrote an article for my website entitled
E. & G. G. Hook: "International" Organbuilders. I'd long
felt that (a) the Hooks were the greatest organbuilders of their time in the
world (not just in America); and (b) the Hooks achieved more eclecticism
without trying than the American builders 100 years later who actually tried to
build eclectic instruments. In the article I defend both arguments:
The Organ Revival in America came slightly later than the
analogous Orgelbewegung in Germany. The radio broadcasts and recordings of E.
Power Biggs had an incalculably strong influence on everyone--organists,
organ builders, organ audiences, and organ composers. Suddenly German Baroque
sounds (that is, what we thought were German Baroque sounds) were the only ones
anyone wanted to hear.
While the international respect for contemporary American
organbuilders and organists rose, the work of 19th-century builders like Hook,
Hutchings, Woodberry, Simmons, Johnson, Stevens, etc. plummeted into even
deeper oblivion. Countless Hooks were replaced or irrevocably changed during
this period. Subsequently, the Organ Historical Society was formed (again, with
Biggs as a prime instigator), and at least Americans started to realize the
value and incredible beauty of these instruments.
But what about the Europeans? Several of my [American]
colleagues [including Barbara Owen8] agreed with me that what Hook was building
in the 1850s was as good as, if not better than, what Walcker et al. were
building in the 1850s. Of course, that was impossible to prove: the two
builders' organs were an ocean apart.
Until now.
Woburn, Massachusetts, is a city twelve miles (less than 20
km) north of Boston. In 1991, the First Unitarian Church closed its doors.
Meanwhile a buyer was sought for its precious organ, E. & G. G.
Hook's Opus 553, built in 1870. Then the stunning news came: the buyer would
be a church in Berlin! It would be the very first American organ in
Germany.9
The degree to which the Berliners have taken Hook Op. 553
into their hearts is a source of great joy and pride for us. But it is not a
surprise. Hooks were the best organs we ever built. And they were also the most
eclectic. We Americans spent the better part of the 20th century striving for
"the eclectic organ," an instrument that could play the
"whole repertoire." The results of this striving can today seem
embarrassing. Electro-pneumatic instruments from the 1930s to the 1950s could
"sort of play" the whole repertoire. Yet on them Franck sounds
inauthentic, Mendelssohn sounds inauthentic, and to today's ears, Baroque
music is unlistenable. The only thing that really sounds "right" on
a typical American Classic organ is--not surprisingly--20th-century
American music. Eclecticism among trackers built in the 1960s, '70s, and
'80s fared no better. It is appalling to revisit some of these organs
today. Builders thought nothing of combining strident plenums and chiff with
huge Romantic reeds and celestes--and then tuning the whole organ to
Kirnberger or Werckmeister! These issues were much on my mind when I was an
organ student during the 1980s. But in 1989 everything changed. I discovered E.
& G. G. Hook. Quickly I realized that beautiful eclectic organs, with
tracker action, slider chests, and low wind pressure, had been achieved long
before the Organ Revival.
[ . . . ]
[T]he home of [Hook's] Opus 253 (1859) [is] the First
Baptist Church [in Jamaica Plain], where I was the Music Director from 1989 to
2001. Of the three Jamaica Plain Hooks, Op. 253 is in some ways the least
altered. Though it lacks the freestanding gallery placement and Pedal Trombones
of the other two Jamaica Plain Hooks, the Baptist Hook has arguably the most
distinctive voicing of the three. Individually or ensemble, there is not a
pipe--flue or reed--that you could imagine could be more perfect or
beautiful. I had the honor of making the first commercial recordings on this
instrument, No Room at the Inn (1994) and No Room at the Inn, Vol. II (2000),
both for AFKA Records. I chose an extreme variety of repertoire, aiming to show
the widest possible spectrum of tone colors. I included soloists and guest
artists as well, to demonstrate the organ's amazing adaptability as an
accompanist.
No one will dispute that Mendelssohn sounds ideal on these
organs, with that perfect combination of Germanic and English flavorings. The
big surprise is how beautifully everything else sounds. The Great plenum seems
beyond reproach and gives perfect contrapuntal clarity for Bach (though the
Pedal can be insufficient) and other Baroque music (though the magnificent Open
Diapason is a bit too large-scale for, say, Frescobaldi). As for Franck, I
found the overall mid-19th-century color to be perfectly appropriate. Hook
reeds have that amazing quality of being perfect as solo reeds and chorus
reeds. And unlike on modern trackers, one can play Romantic music without
having to cringe, wondering what will happen when the Mixture comes on. The
Hook Mixture seems to do just what a Romantic mixture should do: crown the
ensemble. In many Hooks the Seventeenth (Terz) is actually a component of the
Mixture. It lends a reed color which blends perfectly, not at all unbecoming in
Romantic literature.
Perhaps the biggest surprise of all is how well contemporary
music (well, some contemporary music) sounds on the Hook. The Jamaica Plainers
often heard the music of Charles Callahan, which organists tend not to play on
instruments without celestes and octave couplers. But ultimately, the primary
requirement of this music is warmth. That is something the Hook possesses.
I myself began to compose during my tenure in Jamaica Plain.
The instrument was a constant and inexhaustible muse. Why? Because the sound is
beautiful. I once remarked to Lois Regestein (a former organist of the church)
how it had to be the furthest thing from the Hooks' minds how well Bach
or 20th-century music would sound on their instruments. As Lois so perfectly
responded, "They just built good organs." That simple statement is
so true. When you do nothing more than to build a beautiful instrument, in
which each pipe is beautiful--and without trying to "prove"
anything--there is no limit to the music that can be made.
The recent fire was not the first one in First
Baptist's history.
On 30 October 1975, First Baptist Church was arsoned by two
delinquent youths, who set four fires in the lower church. They kindled the
flames with Bibles, religious books from the Christian Library, and baptismal
robes. One of the four fires raced through the crawl space under the pulpit,
where in the 1800s a pump boy would hand pump the organ bellows. Another fire
raged in the choir loft, right in front of the organ. On the scene as quickly
as, if not before, the firemen were Bob and Dick Lahaise and a parishioner
named William C. Latham. Mr. Latham directed the firemen where to point and not
point their hoses. Meanwhile, the Lahaises narrowly prevented the firemen from
breaking a boarded-up window on the outside wall behind the organ chamber.
These three marvelous men saved this organ, for had the firemen succeeded in
their actions, the entire organ would have become one large torch and not a
pipe would have survived. Though a corner of the bellows and some other
mechanical parts were charred, not one pipe in the organ was harmed. Photos
reveal that the rest of the church was in ruins. Only the most hardened atheist
would fail to see the miracle in this. I am mindful of this miracle every time
I lay hands and feet upon E. & G. G. Hook's Opus 253.10
Both sanctuary and organ were painstakingly restored to
their previous splendor. But in 1976, as the Lahaises were immersed in their
work, the firemen sprayed a powdery chemical throughout the organ [as well as
the ceiling of the whole church] to eliminate the charred smell which,
especially in the summer, would have been prevalent in the sanctuary. This
caused Bob and Dick a great deal more work, and when I arrived on the scene 13
years later (1989), the Great and Swell reeds were still dirty from the powder,
which had even chemically reacted with the brass of the reeds. Thus, until my
two-year series of 25 organ-and-piano recitals (1989-1991) raised the
four-digit figure necessary to finance their repair, these three reeds were
very unstable and unpredictable.11
At the end of the Volume II program notes, I wrote:
Throughout 141 years of dramatic changes and challenges . .
. the organ has remained a constant, emitting the same remarkable sounds to
which our congregation joined voices in the days before Abe Lincoln and the
Civil War.
Then came a sentence that I reread painfully:
As each new generation lifts its praises to God, there is no
sign that the melodious tones of Opus 253 will be silenced any time
soon.12
Sanctuary and organ were both dedicated on Thursday, 25
August 1859. The next day, the event was front-page news in the Boston Daily
Evening Traveller. Astute observations about the tone of the organ were made,
special praise being reserved for the "clarionet, that speaks as though
filled by the skilful [sic] breath of Thomas Ryan." The article concluded
with a sentence that would remain true for 146 years:
[W]e are confident that any impartial judge will agree with
us in saying that a finer organ of the same capacity cannot be named.
I want to keep to my promise and not eulogize out of my
present mourning. However, I cannot close without stating an indisputable fact.
My tenure at First Baptist Church was from 1989 to 2001. However, I was born in
1971. When I was hired, I was 18 and still in high school. When I left I was 30
and dating my present wife. My transition from student to professional, child
to adult, occurred at First Baptist. Into the fabric of who I am as a musician
and a person were woven the tones of that Hook organ! The Great Open Diapason
that on its own sounded like full organ. The aforementioned
"creamy" Clarabella. The perfectly scaled and voiced plenum. The
Great Trumpet whose sound, alone or with the plenum, was beyond the reproach of
the most persnickety critic. The Swell Gamba, located high above the Choir
Dulciana--together they were the perfect celeste. The Swell Hautboy with
the tremolo--or the Stopped Diapason with the same tremolo, in the high
register. The 4¢ Chimney Flute in the Choir, as beautiful as any chimney
flute I've ever heard on either side of the Atlantic. And saving the best
for last: that Clarionet! Because there was no room in the chamber for the
bells of a traditional clarinet stop, the Hooks put in a French Cremona
instead, without the bells. Forget Thomas Ryan; Stoltzman himself would have
been jealous of this Clarionet!
These are the sounds--the otherworldly
sounds--that entered me during my most permeable years as a musician. The
fire burned not only the church and the organ but also a hole in my heart that
will never be refilled.
