Despite your inevitable protestations, and equally inevitable
disappointment, I cannot be expected to make any attempt to describe, in
words, the sound of the Elhanan Q. Hackenback Memorial Grand Pipe Organ in
the Basilica of St. Gladys de la Croix on Washinton Heights. The task is
beyond me.
What can one say? With fifty-inch wind running to every corner of the
building, and both the sixty-four foot ranks in working order, the tutti is
simply electrifying, as one would expect. It shakes the building, raises
clouds of dust in every corner, creates severe power surges in the entire
district, and blows fuses in substations on the nearby subway line. Far
more than that, this is an organ so large and so complex that a single
visit of one hour only can hardly be expected to bring out more than the
vaguest and most general impression. I played for a few minutes, and then
descended to the crossing to hear some of the main effects demonstrated.
The possibilities for Antiphonal and counter-Antiphonal repartee are
particularly exciting. Brad is adept at playing the organ round and round
in circles, finally ending with a massive chord on the Dome and West End
reeds. After he had done so for a few minutes I felt very peculiar and had
to shout for him to stop.
The acoustic is phenomenal, and the organ makes full use of it. The
instrument is in every respect successful, and though not as large as the
Atlantic City organ, it makes more sense in almost every respect. The
balances are coherent throughout, and though all the departments beyond the
Chancel are more or less brutish - with no pressures lower than twenty-five
inches - the solid concrete enclosures are massive and forgiving.
Ultimately all the major effects are traditional in style, simply developed
in every direction to the umpteenth degree. In the Chancel stands a
perfectly normal large Cathedral instrument, suitable for daily use. It is
a bit larger than Liverpool, and slightly better in almost every respect.
Here the pressures are all at fairly normal levels, reflecting the origins
of much of the material in the simpler days of Skinner, Audsley and even
Michell or Roosevelt. The rest of the instrument is almost entirely devoted
to special effects: stereophonic and quadrophonic dialogue, several levels
of super-tutti and, of course, the various terrifying mixtures and reeds.
Questions of tonal finish and balancing are all exceptionally difficult to
judge at a first visit, and here I can hardly comment.
Two things remain to be said. First: this is, of all organs in the world,
one that can only be experienced in the flesh, and no written description
could possibly do justice to it. Secondly, and perhaps more important, it
represents the apotheosis of the heroic Anglo-American Late-Romantic style
of organ building, and it is an instrument of a type only made possible by
the advent of electric transmission. If ever there needed to be a
justification of electro-pneumatic action, then surely it is this: the
possibilities for special effects in a really big space are simply too
artistically exciting to be turned down. This was demonstrated in theory at
Liverpool (though the scheme was never completed). Further practical
attempts along the same lines have been essayed at various times since,
notably at St. Paul's Cathedral, London, under Willis and Mander - though
in my view the major effects at St. Paul's suffer from asymmetry, and a
general lumpiness in the build-up due to lack of space. (The Dome organ is
essentially just a super-Great Organ on one side, and lacks any real sense
of variety or build-up: it tends to be noticeably either 'on' or 'off'.) At
St. Gladys, the total organ effect is well-balanced between the various
sections, all of which are complete in their own right.
I urge all friends of the organ to attend the Basilica on Hackenback Square
at their earliest convenience in order to hear this magnificent instrument
with their own ears.
My own visit concluded with a most enjoyable tour of the chambers. Our
small party first descended to the crypt and entered the organ workshop,
taking a few moments to cast our eyes over the sub-basement Turbine Hall
and the magnificent Blower Rooms. We visited the Willis office, and
examined some sample drawings, before ascending in the large goods elevator
to triforium level. There, the three of us clambered into the cramped cab
of the Sprague locomotive and, our passage through the darkness illuminated
by an occasional arcing flash from the overhead power supply, we set off on
the two-foot-gauge tramway to view the organ chambers.
From the elevator shaft at the extreme east end of the building, the line
follows a circular route, sometimes running inside the triforium gallery,
and sometimes out across the roofs in the open air. It is perfectly
charming, although in view of the heights involved the excursion is not
recommended for those who suffer from vertigo. The line passes behind each
organ chamber, high above the pipes. Each enclosure is fitted with its own
travelling hoist to lower chests and pipes down to their situation below.
We saw all the sections on the north side first - Chancel, Transept and
Nave - then went to the west end to see the State Trumpets (as far as they
are installed), before returning by the south side in reverse order - Nave,
Transept and Chancel. Then, with the locomotive driven into the elevator
car itself (which is fitted with a turntable and a short length of track
for the purpose), we ascended to a still higher level, and made a
terrifying windswept traverse along the apex of the chancel roof, leading
ultimately to the Dome Gallery Organ. We could see the Tuba Mirum Organ in
the apex of the dome high above, but as we did not have a great deal of
time left we did not make the change to the cable-car for that final
ascent. Returning by locomotive and elevator, we paused again at basement
level for a quick walk through the chambers of the Echo and Orchestral
Organ, located at the east end below Hackenback's tomb.
My thanks are due to Brad Jaeger III, for making this visit possible. The
debt owed to him by the entire organ world, for his splendid efforts in
making this fantastic instrument available to us, is beyond calculation.
Back on home ground again, and reflecting on our visit to New York, I can
only envy the freedom with which the New World is able to tackle tasks on
such a scale; a scale at which we in the Old World can only gawp. The
question remains as to whether such excess is truly artistic. I suggest
that each must decide for him or herself. It is all too easy to assume
that everything in New York is made out of steel and concrete, and that it
is a city in which craftsmanship has no place. The Basilica of St. Gladys
is proof, if such is needed, that the United States is capable of producing
gestures as baffling, as grandiose, as compelling, as beautiful and as
complex as anything found in the older civilisations of the East.
Ca vaut le detour, as it says in the Guide Michelin.
Stephen Bicknell
Organ Historian, Designer and Consultant
6 Fournier Street
London E1 6QE
Tel: +44 (0)171 247 8212
Email: [log in to unmask]
Web site: http://www.users.dircon.co.uk/~oneskull
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Note: opinions expressed on PIPORG-L are those of the individual con-
tributors and not necessarily those of the list owners nor of the Uni-
versity at Albany.
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