My first encounter with a claviorganum of any description was during my involvement with Michael Thomas in the early 1970s. He had a marvellous collection of old instruments at Hurley Manor, his home near Henley-on-Thames and these were moved to the Harpsichord Centre in Chiltern Street in the West End. It was an eclectic mix that included two claviorgana: the 1745 Crang (now at the Russell Collection via Dr.Mirrey of Redhill) and an early French double manual harpsichord sitting on its own organ that had eventually taken up residence in a museum in Nice. I found the sound of these instruments to be quite intoxicating and the idea of constructing such a behemoth, wondrously compelling.
After making a certain amount of research with the organ builders John Bowen of Northampton and Robert Shaftoe of Pavenham, we opted for the arrangement illustrated by the eighteenth-century authority Dom Bedos, and went for a three-manual instrument consisting of a double-manual harpsichord (capable of being removed) coupled to a chamber organ with its own single keyboard – effectively two-instruments-in-one.
Our claviorganum was conceived in the spring of 1977 and ‘born’ in August, 1978. This was just in time to make its debut at the Festival Estival de Paris during the first weekend of September and we took it there in the large, twin-wheeled Transit I had then. A customer from Tilburg in Holland, Frans van der Tak, came to play the instrument and provide a special Festival concert performance of music by Sweelink, Böhm, Dufly, J.S. Bach and C.P.E. Bach.
Following this enjoyable sojourn, the instrument was returned to my workshop in England and played as much as possible by several visitors and, in a very simple way, by myself. This helped it to settle down and we then gave it a careful regulation service. My patron in Amsterdam, Professor Jaap Spigt, came to see the claviorganum and became very enthusiastic about it. He suggested giving it a wider airing by taking it to his house on the Prinzengracht – one of those beautiful canals that radiate outwards from central Amsterdam – so back it went into the Transit and we duly turned up outside number 1091 on a chilly autumnal morning in November. The houses on these canals are tall and narrow and his ‘atelier’ was on the top floor, spreading over onto the adjacent house. The harpsichord was separated simply by lifting it off and then taken up the interior staircase reasonably easily, but the organ was a different kettle of fish. I looked upwards and focused on a heavy gantry jutting out from the stepped-gable front wall and realised why every house had to have one. A company that specialised in moving large items in and out of such houses was called and the organ hoisted up so that it was in line with the enormous top window, then swung gently to and fro with increasing momentum until - whoosh – in it went !
Jaap used the claviorganum for his Saturday evening performances and Sunday afternoon ‘Kaffee Konzerts’ (well-attended by over 120 enthusiastic people). It was also played on Dutch radio on occasion. Unfortunately, the instrument did not meet with universal approval for some reason: one Dutch organ maker was quite impolite about the organ (‘a joke’), although he agreed that the harpsichord part was satisfactory. I really don’t mind criticism and mention it here because it’s impossible for everything to be sweetness and light all the time and, in any case, it was balanced by the praise it received in Paris by Howard Schott and others.
Back in England, we had arranged a series of concerts for the spring and summer of 1979 on newly-finished harpsichords to be performed by visiting customers in agreeable places such as the Red House Museum in Christchurch, The Purbeck Room of Poole Arts Centre and the Library Hall in Salisbury. At the latter, on a balmy day in July, the playing had commenced when a lady and gentleman slipped in and took the last two seats. At the end of the performance, the lady went up to the harpsichord and, after inspecting and playing it, astonished me by commissioning a similar instrument on the spot. It became apparent that she was the owner and principal of The San Antonio Academy of Music in Texas and, over a period of time, this particular customer provided me with the marvellous opportunity to discover the United States by living in their San Antonio mansion for months at a time in order to develop contacts and find customers. On one of my visits, we decided that it would be very exciting to bring the claviorganum over from Amsterdam and arrange for Professor Spigt to come and make a concert tour of the state.
After waving a metaphorical magic wand - it arrived. We kept it in a spacious emporium called the Sims Music Centre from where it was taken by truck to the various venues at which Jaap was to perform: El Paso on the Mexican border, San Marcos with its mainly female music students, New Braunfels where German is heard to be spoken in the main street, the state capital Austin, Edinburg near Corpus Christi in the extreme south and San Antonio itself with its cool, thick-walled and acoustically pleasing Spanish Missions (the largest and most famous of these is the Alamo). Moving the organ was a relatively simple affair on each occasion since a number of students would always be available and when seven or eight gathered around, it went up in the air quite easily.
Driving to these places provides you with the opportunity to appreciate the size of this state. The journey from S.A. to El Paso, for example, was 528 miles – almost the same distance as from where I live in Southbourne-on-Sea to John O’Groats on the north coast of Scotland – and only one ‘proper’ town in between: Fort Stockton, with Carlisle being its geographical equivalent. Despite all this moving around, the claviorganum remained in very good playing condition, with only the tuning having to be carried out upon arrival in each place.
After this concert series, I was keen to take the instrument to a place where more people lived and where it would be heard more often, but without having to drive hundreds of miles in the process. Los Angeles, with its conurbation of 13 million people, seemed as good a place as any. I had a call one morning from a customer who had heard about what I intended to do and put me in contact with an opera singer friend of hers, Janet Smith, who lived in Hollywood. Janet very graciously offered to accommodate me and find a suitable place to house the claviorganum.
I hired one of those trucks that you can leave at its destination and set off in high spirits, westwards. There is something about driving for long periods that makes the mind itself begin to travel – quite independently as to what is happening at the time. There was a 55mph speed limit in place on all highways nationwide in those days and crossing what is effectively a desert at that speed becomes interminably tedious. I had just left the New Mexico border heading towards Tucson, Arizona and I suppose I must have been musing about something other than speed limits when I thought I glimpsed something red and blue in my mirror. A few moments later it became obvious that a quite sizeable police vehicle was approaching rapidly from behind and signalled me to pull over. Where they come from, I’ll never know – how is it possible to ‘hide’ in such a landscape? The classic earth mounds and giant cacti associated with all good cowboy films were all there as far as the eye could see, but no sign of a big police car bristling with aerials and lights. He was very polite, informed me of my speed (80mph), invited me to sit in his vehicle and apologised for ‘doing his job’. The $30 fine had to be paid at the next town and I was very careful to do that. Had I not, my details would have been placed on the National Immigration Control Computer and any subsequent visit to the US would have begun in a somewhat distressing way.
After leaving Tucson, with its charming Court House and affable Desk Officer, I checked that all was well with the claviorganum and made my way along the number 10 highway. I saw the occasional ‘wild west’ wooden-built town that would have easily made the perfect setting for a movie, giant jack rabbits and strange birds. Seventy miles on and the road splits: highway 10 towards Los Angeles and, to the left, highway 8 to San Diego. This latter name reminded me of correspondence I had had recently with a former colleague of Michael Thomas – one Tom McGeary – who had made a fine double-manual harpsichord and who was now living and working as an academic in that part of California. On a whim, I thought it would be fun to see Tom and show him the instrument. I telephoned and to my delight he answered and said he would love to inspect it.
Coming down into San Diego in the early evening light was an enjoyable and memorable experience. Tom met me at my Motel 6 ($11 per night !!) and we spent the evening chatting enthusiastically about all and everything. The following day, I took the claviorganum for a spin around S.D. (a clean, friendly place) then headed north along the ocean-hugging highway 5 to Los Angeles.
Janet had arranged for the instrument to be placed in a church in Glendale, a pleasant part of north L.A. near Pasadena. She introduced me to several people involved in the Early Music scene and it was not long before it was being played upon by some very fine musicians. My biggest break was when I met Joseph Spencer of Wildboar Studios. Joseph had his own radio show and he very kindly featured the claviorganum on his programmes. This helped to introduce people to this extraordinary instrument on a far wider scale than I could have possibly hoped for and attracted the attention of teachers and academics around the area. It was a great pleasure to meet and talk to these talented people and I very much enjoyed my stay in Hollywood. I spent four months there, from November 1980 to February 1981 and Janet kindly introduced me to her circle of musical friends, that, in turn, led to a very pleasant social calendar.
Money tends always to spoil everything just when you think all is going well and I began to run out of it completely. I had started out by hiring quite a nice car from Herz (despite the saying ‘It Hurts to rent from Herz’) and used it to go to see harpsichord owners who needed their instruments regulating, but this service became required less frequently and I had to go to ‘Rent-a-Wreck’. After a while, I could not even afford their lowly prices and had to buy a bicycle. I don’t know whether you’ve had the chance to visit L.A., but I do understand through that experience why you see very few people riding bikes out there. Finally the bicycle had to go and I was reduced to walking everywhere on foot. My lady in sunny Southbourne-on-Sea heard of my discomfort and very kindly sent me a one-way ticket back to the UK by the no-frills company Laker Airways.
The claviorganum had to remain behind. The churchwarden was kindness itself and promised to look after it for me. Little did he know that he would have to do so for the next eight years!
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For deliveries of instruments beyond Europe, throughout the 1980s I used a company in Southampton called LEP Transport. They were always very careful about packing and the instruments reached their destinations in first-class condition. So it was that, when I felt I could afford it (in 1989), I asked them to arrange the crating and forwarding of the claviorganum. They carried this out brilliantly and the instrument arrived back in the UK without a scratch. It had been finished in only white French Polish, so I now set about decorating it. I chose a very deep red colour – the sort favoured in early times – and even coloured the arabesque papers deep red. Gold leaf was applied to the mouldings with great restraint and the soundboard of the harpsichord decorated with flowers and butterflies. For the lid painting, I chose to copy the 18th century Venetian lid on its own on a wall in the V & A entitled ‘The Judgement of Midas’ since the presence of pipes and strings seemed apposite for such an instrument.
When it had been completed, we brought it into the house and arranged a series of informal evening concerts around it. One particularly outstanding musician was my customer Alan Fellows, who returned on several occasions to delight us with pieces from Handel’s organ concertos transcribed specifically for this type of instrument.
One summer’s day in 1991 we had a visit from Klaus Arp, the conductor of the Rundfunkorchester des SWR, Kaiserslautern. Klaus had had three instruments from me over the years and was very taken by the claviorganum. He thought it would be of great interest to the listeners of the Radio Station and suggested taking it to Kaiserslautern and installing it in the concert hall. My Transit was no longer available, having been sent to the knacker’s yard after thousands of miles of faithful service. Fortunately, my Italian ‘brother’ Paolo happened to be visiting and had his FIAT version (Transitio?) with him so we loaded up and set off for Germany.
The claviorganum was used for concerts both at the Radio Station itself and marvellous locations elsewhere. In May, 1992 a week-long Festival of Ancient Music was arranged at the Music School and Theodor Zink Museum in the centre of Kaiserslautern. The instrument was placed in the entrance to the museum and I was delighted when it was used to entertain the German Cultural Minister, Dr. Rose Götte, on a special visit.
After about a year, Klaus suggested that we should make a CD. He chose Handel’s opus 7, concertos 8 to 12 and we made it at the Radio Station over the course of a week in March, 1993. I wanted to be absolutely certain about the tuning, so every morning I arose at 5.30am to allow plenty of time so that everything would be ready for the musicians at 8.45am. I sat in on the actual recording, ready to spring into action when needed for the slightest thing. Alfred Gross was the soloist and it was eventually released on the Austrian Koch-Schwann label.
Another memorable occasion was when we took the claviorganum to the Provincial Palace of Trier one warm evening in June, 1994. It is a gorgeous baroque building in light pink and white and stands adjacent and in stark contrast to the dark-bricked Roman Basilica. As we carried the instrument up the very wide, beautifully carved staircase to the first floor concert room the Haus Meister told me that it was at that very spot during WW2 a British bomb had landed and destroyed all that part of the building. I just about managed a muffled ‘how interesting’ and then recovered enough to say what a marvellous re-construction job they had done. I believe Trier is the oldest German town and was established by the Romans as their northern capital.
In the second half of the 1990s, Klaus was offered the seat of Professor of Conducting Studies at Mannheim and we had to bring up Paolo’s Transitio from Italy ready for another move. By way of good fortune, Klaus was also given the post of Artistic Director to a society in the area called Villa Musica. They had the backing of big business and the banks and either owned or had access to eighteen castles throughout the Rheinlandpfalz to stage concerts. One of these, Schloß Engers near Koblenz, was being completely restored throughout and with its fairy-tale position on the Rhine, would make a splendid location to house the claviorganum. We decided to place it on the first floor next to the so-called Hall of Mirrors so that it could be wheeled in and out easily. As on previous occasions, the harpsichord lifted straight off, but we needed help with the organ. The Haus Meister called a specialist removal firm and two men turned up. They were the largest, strongest people I had ever seen in my life. To my astonishment, using wide, thick leather straps over their shoulders, they lifted the whole organ all by themselves and marched it upstairs. After a nice cup of tea they bowed and were on their way.
Klaus had arranged one of the best rooms overlooking the river and told me: ‘You’ll be treated like a lord’. He was right and I always loved staying at the castle. Waking in the morning to a wonderful view followed by an ‘unlimited’ breakfast set me up for the rest of the day. The claviorganum was used for a number of occasions, but one of the biggest problems was the sound of the huge Rotterdam-Basel barges going by and the noise they made during what should have been quiet, moving passages. In fact, after some time I realised that, despite the beautiful setting, we were not really using the instrument to its full potential, so I decided to bring it back to the UK.
Poor old Paolo’s Transitio had eventually met a very sticky end somewhere halfway across the alps and since hiring a vehicle was beyond my means, I had to bring it back in pieces in my Peugeot 405 estate as and when I found myself in that part of Germany. After about four trips, it was assembled in our newly-built conservatory and has been used for house concerts up to now.
This autumn will mark a change of direction for the claviorganum. It is to be used in St.Clement’s church in Bournemouth for a series of baroque concerts and should the response be satisfactory, I should like to make the instrument available for the good enjoyment of the wider community. It will have come a long way since that chilly November morning in Amsterdam… .