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Home > Music > Organs > Flentrop > What Is Past Is Prologue
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by James G. Ferguson, Jr., Duke Chapel Renovation Committee, 1976
In a recent set of public remarks, E. Power Biggs commented that
the organ’s “past is its future.” It is difficult
to find a more apt illustration of this statement than the organ
program at Duke. To explain this aptness, however, it is necessary
to begin with the construction of Duke Chapel.
Built in the final days of the Beaux-Arts Gothic revival, the
Duke University West Campus is a magnificent testimony to the
æsthetic grandeur of the vision of three men — James
B. Duke, Benjamin N. Duke, and Horace Trumbauer, the architect.
Indeed, one art historian has said that the West Campus reads
more as a baroque composition, so ambitious is its scope. Those
familiar with the history of Duke University know of the centrality
of Eruditio and Religio to James B. Duke — they were in
a sense the patron saints of the University. Thus it was altogether
appropriate that the focus of this neo-Gothic complex should be
a majestic chapel, just as a cathedral or abbey church would have
been the heart of a medieval monastic complex.
The fact that the Chapel was built in the 20th century (1930–1932)
instead of the 13th century, however, begins to complicate our
history. Ironically, one of the structural advances which made
such buildings as the Chapel possible also seriously interfered
with the musical integrity of the organ. The widespread use of
Catalan vaulting techniques meant that two or three courses of
lightweight ceramic tile replaced the heavy stones used in the
webbing of medieval vaults. In turn, reducing the load of the
vaulting made it possible to use solid limestone piers as supports
without resorting to the use of such nonmedieval devices as reinforcing
steel. Unfortunately, this concern for structural authenticity
did not extend to the acoustics of these neo-Gothic buildings.
Because of the primitive state of public address system technology
there was no way to make the acoustical splendor of these vaulted
spaces compatible with intelligible human speech. That which was
vital to sacred music was the nemesis of the spoken word. Thus,
after considerable experimentation, the Guastavino company developed
Akoustolith, a composition absorptive stone tile which was bonded
to the structural tile used in the vaulting. The spoken word became
intelligible, and music lost liveliness and clarity.
Such was the Duke Chapel as the Æolian Company designed
the first organ for the building — a banquet for the eyes
and meager fare for the ears. Compounding the acoustical problem
was the fact that before the Æolian Company became involved,
the decision to install the organ in two immense chambers on either
side of the chancel had already been made. Small openings were
provided behind the mute chancel organ facades to allow the jumbled
sounds of the great Æolian organ to spill into the chancel
and nave. (There must have been an awareness of the superior placement
now enjoyed by the Flentrop, because an “antiphonal”
division of the Æolian was previously located there.) In
a vain effort to compensate for the musical shortcomings of the
acoustics, the organ builders were forced to resort to voicing
the instrument on such high wind pressures that it lost all but
the most rudimentary articulation. This lack of articulation combined
with the invariability of an electro-pneumatic playing action
led to a musically unsatisfactory state of affairs where the 122-stop
behemoth was at its best only when most of the stops were drawn
on. Even at this, recital-goers were always told by the program
that the “Æolian organ can be heard to its best advantage
at the front of the nave.” Even high wind pressure and exaggerated
registration were no match for the Akoustolith tile.
That the Æolian attracted such a wide following over the
years is due to the tireless efforts of Mildred Hendrix, Chapel
Organist until her retirement in 1969. Not only was she able to
cope with the increasing unreliability of this organ, but she
was also sensitive to its tonal idiosyncrasies and made it perform
to its best potential throughout the years. It was also during
Mrs. Hendrix’s tenure that the Chapel organ program began
to develop. Recognizing that the Memorial Chapel was used for
many smaller services, she and James T. Cleland, then Dean of
the Chapel, set about to secure an instrument for it as well.
With the assistance of the Mary Duke Biddle Foundation, a contract
was signed with the Holtkamp Organ Company of Cleveland and the
instrument was installed in 1969. It was the first step toward
obtaining a neobaroque organ in Duke Chapel.
The next major step resulted from a visit to Duke by Dirk Flentrop
in the winter of 1968. At this time, the first discussions were
held concerning the entire organ program at Duke. In view of the
completion of the plans for the Mary Duke Biddle Music Building,
it was felt that a comprehensive plan was needed to foster the
interaction between the teaching program in the Music Department
and the sacred music performed in the Chapel. At the same time,
there was a growing awareness that the Æolian was due for
major overhauling. A decision was made to construct a second organ,
to be located at the junction between the nave and narthex on
a specially constructed gallery. This would be a neobaroque instrument
built in the north European style by the Dutch firm of D. A. Flentrop.
Thus, there would be two totally independent instruments —
one to accompany the congregation, one to accompany the choir,
and each to be used for recitals.
Before this could transpire, however, there was the matter of
the Chapel acoustics. Mr. Flentrop wisely pointed out that this
plan would not succeed unless the Chapel could be made to sound
as magnificent as it looked. By the same token, bringing acoustical
life to the building would also entail degrading the intelligibility
the spoken word. At this point, the help of Robert Newman, of
Bolt, Beranek and Newman, was enlisted to solve this complicated
problem. After a great deal of research it was found that a sealer
applied to the Akoustolith tile in the vaults and on the walls
of the Chapel would raise the maximum reverberation time from
approximately three seconds to approximately eight seconds. To
compensate for this increased liveness a speech reinforcement
system was designed with a time-delay feature which renders the
spoken word even more intelligible than it was before the Akoustolith
was treated. Again with the support of the Mary Duke Biddle Foundation,
both the acoustical modifications and the speech reinforcement
system became a reality.
A final historical note needs insertion here. The Flentrop organ
is a magnificent capstone for the careers of two distinguished
artists — D. A Flentrop and the late William T. Muirhead.
Those who see the organ apprehend immediately that its monumentality
makes extraordinary demands on its supporting structure —
demands which tax the competence of contemporary engineering.
Just as Mr. Flentrop labored over every detail to ensure that
this would be his finest instrument, so did Mr. Muirhead direct
every aspect of the gallery construction. The confluence of such
talent is rare indeed, but it came to pass on this project, and
future generations shall benefit from this felicitous collaboration.
And now, the preparations completed, the Chapel waits to have
its bejeweled bays come alive with the brilliance of new sounds.
With the dedication of the new organ to the memory of Benjamin
N. Duke, the renaissance begun nearly two decades ago by the Flentrop
organ in Harvard’s Busch-Reisinger Museum gains its greatest
impetus. The spirit of this renaissance will be nourished at Duke,
as the Flentrop will be eloquent testimony to the wisdom of the
philosophy of looking to the past to find the future of the organ.
A musical revolution has begun at Duke Chapel — a quiet
evolution whose influence will slowly spread. And such a role
is appropriate to an academic institution. Perhaps the import
of this role is best stated by a quotation from a Mary Duke Biddle
Foundation Annual Report:
“We must remember that great ideas do not always arise
from places of power or from large-scale programs but may, in
the words of Camus, come into the world ‘as gently as doves.’”
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