16 Organ and Orchestra

Old Biggs he tickled the ivories

And William directed the tune;

Icelanders all were delighted to hear

The strains of “Eileen Aroon,”

For oboe and drums, sackbut and saw,

A bottle of beer and a spoon,

And Biggs was playing a packing case,

Oh yes he was playing a packing case,

In the merry old month of June.

Biggs left the country only once in 1963, and that was for a short tour of Iceland, which he had not visited for several years. His itinerary included some solo recitals, and at least one concert with an orchestra in Reykjavik, directed by William Strickland. That appearance inspired the above “Epode to Biggs,” written by another visitor to Iceland, Thomas MacAnna of the Abbey Theatre, Dublin. Unfortunately the program has not survived, so we do not know whether Biggs actually played an Irish folk tune; judging from the instrumentation cited, MacAnna employed more than a little poetic license, and Biggs’s “packing case” was probably a positive organ of some sort.

It is probably safe to say that no other twentieth-century organist performed or recorded as much with orchestras, instrumental ensembles, and solo instruments as did Biggs. His zeal for promoting the organ as an ensemble instrument led to his obtaining concert engagements in places even more remote than Iceland, his encouragement of the writing of new works, and his activism on behalf of pipe organs in concert halls.

Although his concertizing went on almost continuously, Biggs had to devote large chunks of time to recording, editing, and jacket note preparation between 1959, when the first batch of recordings on the new Flentrop were made, and the end of the second European tour in 1962. While Biggs did occasional ensemble work during this period, there was little time to learn or even practice the kind of literature that major orchestral collaborations demanded. In 1960, for example, he played with the Little Symphony of Seattle, the Buffalo Philharmonic, and the Shreveport Symphony Orchestra, but, with the exception of the Poulenc Concerto, the repertoire consisted only of shorter works by Handel, Bach, Mozart, and Corelli, all of which, including the Poulenc, he had played many times before. In 1960 he also gave a solo recital to inaugurate the new Aeolian-Skinner organ in Philadelphia’s Academy of Music, an instrument with which he was not particularly impressed: “There were ciphers, and endless mechanical trouble,” he wrote to a friend shortly afterward. “No real ensemble, though some of the individual stops are nice.”

But the new Philadelphia organ was a portent of things to come, for the early 1960s saw the building of other new concert hall organs, and Biggs was usually the conductor’s first choice when it came to organ-and-orchestra programs. With a good backlog of unreleased tapes at Columbia, Biggs was ready to work on new repertoire and take to the concert hall stage again.

The early part of 1962 was taken up with a European tour and a number of solo concerts, including the opening of a large Tamburini organ in San Juan, Puerto Rico, which drew an audience of three thousand and some rather flowery reviews. But much of the summer was spent preparing for a formidable round of orchestral appearances in the fall. The first, in late September, was the long-awaited opening of Philharmonic Hall at Lincoln Center for the Performing Arts. It was supposed to be the splashiest and most glamorous occasion of the whole New York musical season, and in most respects it was—but not for Biggs.

Biggs had been booked well in advance to play the new four-manual Aeolian-Skinner organ, but neither the organ builders nor the Lincoln Center management had anticipated major acoustical problems or interference from Manhattan’s feisty trade unions. The unions wrecked the installation schedule right at the outset by prohibiting the organ builders from using their own (non-union) employees for any carpentry or electrical work, and it is said that the plumbers’ union even tried to muscle in with regard to the organ pipes. Since none of the union men had had any experience with organs, they had to be supervised by the builders, who ultimately had to redo much of the work. In addition, construction work related to last-minute acoustical changes made it impossible to carry on tonal finishing, or even, because of risk of damage, to plant the pipes in the organ. Joseph Whiteford of Aeolian-Skinner summed up some of the problems in a letter to Biggs dated August 28, 1962:

I wanted to write you a note to say how very sorry I am about the situation at the Philharmonic Hall. I know we had all counted on great things at the right time. We did everything humanly possible to avoid the situations that have arisen. The organ was actually built last year and we delivered it in June, but subsequent acoustical changes in the Hall have created so much dust that it has been impossible for us to put pipes in and thus to do the finishing and tuning.

The Union situation aggravated the problem considerably because the men simply didn’t know what they were doing, as you can imagine, and practically everything had to be done over again. But even if we had been installing it, there simply wouldn’t have been enough time. Last week, just one month away from the opening, the entire interior of the auditorium is filled with scaffolding and there are two inches of dirt all over everything. You can imagine what a mess it is.

The formal organ opening was delayed until December 15, but the second inaugural program for the hall, to take place in September, had already been publicized as including Richard Strauss’s Festival Prelude for organ and orchestra, and Biggs had signed a contract to play it. Then the Allen Organ Company offered to loan the hall a two-manual electronic instrument, and Biggs was placed in a no-win situation. He had always refused to play electronic imitations, but he had also never broken a contract, and in the end he consented to play the Allen. Unfortunately, Allen made several attempts during the next few years to capitalize on the incident in its publicity; finally, in 1967, Biggs was forced to threaten the firm with legal action.

The Strauss work, a not particularly inspired pièce d’occasion, opened the program, and it was probably not the most fortuitous choice for the spot. Whether it was the not-yet-adjusted acoustics, the substitute instrument, the antiphonal brass blaring from behind the audience, the composition itself, or an unfortunate combination of all these elements, it was the one work on the program that neither impressed nor pleased the critics. Louis Biancolli dismissed it as a “strident inundation,” and most of the other reviewers glossed over it as hastily as possible to go on to praise subsequent parts on the program. But Miles Kastendieck plainly did not like the performance and said so:

Quite the contrary must be said of the blatant horror stirred up at the start of the concert by Strauss’s festival prelude for large orchestra and organ. From the raucous blasts of the electronic organ to the din of the supplementary brasses stationed in the second terrace, this was an ordeal.

How much of an ordeal it was for Biggs can only be guessed. To make matters worse, he had contracted to record the piece for Columbia.

After such a dismal beginning for the season, things could only get better. Early in October Biggs returned to Philadelphia’s Academy of Music for a demanding program, which included the familiar Saint-Saëns Organ Symphony and Poulenc Concerto; Samuel Barber’s Toccata Festiva for organ and orchestra, commissioned for the opening of the Academy’s new organ two years earlier; and an organ solo, Bach’s Fantasia and Fugue in G minor. Here the critics were kinder and the audience appreciative, calling Biggs back with their applause several times at the conclusion. Columbia had previously taped the Barber, Poulenc, and Saint-Saëns works, combining the first two with the New York Strauss performance to assemble a single rather speedily released disc.

In November Biggs was at the Peristyle in Toledo, playing the Poulenc and a Handel concerto with the Toledo Orchestra, along with organ solos by Bach and Ives. The Bach work was the same one played in Philadelphia, where both critics had praised it; but Boris Nelson of the Toledo Blade, who liked the “nicely proportioned” playing of the Poulenc work, thought the Bach offering “the poorest part of the program.” In December Biggs was in Pittsburgh, where he and 25 members of the Pittsburgh Symphony were crowded into the organ loft of St. Paul’s Cathedral to perform two Handel concertos and the Poulenc Concerto with the new tracker-action von Beckerath organ. All 1,800 seats in the cathedral were filled, and the reviews were highly laudatory. December also brought Biggs back to Lincoln Center where, along with Catherine Crozier and Virgil Fox, he participated in the opening recital on the finally-completed Aeolian-Skinner organ. Among other works he played Virgil Thomson’s Pange Lingua, which had been commissioned for the occasion.

Even more orchestra concerts were booked for 1963. Regular solo appearances found Biggs playing a wide range of instruments from the large Aeolian-Skinner in Boston’s Symphony Hall to his favorite one-manual Tannenberg in York, Pennsylvania; and symphonic appearances were scattered throughout the year. In February Biggs was credited by the papers as being the drawing-card that brought out 1,500 Maine music-lovers in a snowstorm to a Portland Symphony Orchestra concert. The program included Handel’s Concerto No. 10 and the familiar Concerto by Poulenc, who had died about a week before.

By spring Biggs was in Ann Arbor, Michigan, doing Poulenc and Saint-Saëns at Hill Auditorium with the Philadelphia Orchestra as part of the annual May Festival. Biggs was enjoying a rewarding relationship with this orchestra. The previous September Eugene Ormandy had revived a work that Biggs had not performed for some time, Sowerby’s Concerto in C major for organ and orchestra. On that occasion, Max Schauensee of the Philadelphia Bulletin, who liked the work, wrote, “Mr. Biggs was ever the virtuoso at the console, meeting the dramatic challenge of Sowerby’s concerto head-on.” Ormandy and Biggs took the Sowerby work and Barber’s Toccata Festiva to New York’s Philharmonic Hall in October 1963. The tough New York critics were kinder this time around. Alan Rich praised Biggs’s footwork, and even Kastendieck, although rather lukewarm about the concert in general, thought the organ and orchestra pieces the best part of it. It was the audience that was unkind this time; some of the concertgoers rudely walked out on the Sowerby, prompting a scathing commentary by New York Times critic Harold Schonberg on the narrowminded attitude of New York audiences toward contemporary music. November found Biggs playing Barber and Handel with the Detroit Symphony in Ford Auditorium, and Handel and Sowerby with the Wichita Symphony.

In front of Philharmonic (now Avery Fisher) Hall, New York, 1961

Biggs and Eugene Ormandy at a rehearsal of the Philadelphia Orchestra, 1962

In February 1963 the veteran organist Channing Lefebvre, having been asked to do some concerts in Manila, sought Biggs’s advice on pieces he might play with an orchestra there. Biggs’s commentary on some of the works with which he was most familiar is illuminating:

The Hindemith isn’t terribly hard, just awkward. It’s about 14 minutes in length. Woodwinds, brass, ’celli but no violins or violas. Trouble is, the middle movement is rather dull, though the first and last are fun.

Music of Jubilee, and Bach Festival, are just a grouping of Bach chorales and cantata movements, Jesu Joy, Sheep may safely graze, and so on. Some are played exactly as Bach indicated, and others are arranged. Particularly effective, perhaps, is My Spirit be Joyful, for two Trumpets and Organ.

The only thing like the Saint-Saëns is the Strauss Festliches Praeludium. . . . It’s a work that packs a huge wallop, and which lets the organ be heard solo, in much the same way as the Saint-Saëns.

There are, as you know, the Handel Concertos. Which did you do last year? Then there is the Barber Toccata, but I really don’t feel it’s worth the work. I did it because I had to.

There is a very charming Partita for English Horn and Organ by Jan Koetsier. . . . And there is an original suite for solo Violin and Organ, Opus 166, by Josef Rheinberger. . . . It’s a very elegant work.

Then, there’s the piece that Mozart wrote for Glass Armonica, with Flute, Oboe, Viola, and ’Cello. This can be very effectively played on the organ.

And, of course, there are the Frescobaldi and Gabrieli pieces for Brass and Organ. But you know about them.

Finally, if you hear the record “Heroic Music” and would like any of these things, I can probably send you photostats of whatever you like.

Appearances with orchestras and smaller ensembles continued through 1964. In March Biggs was in Florida, performing Poulenc and Handel with orchestras in Tampa and St. Petersburg. In April, he included soloists from the Boston Symphony Orchestra in a Symphony Hall program; and in August he performed music of Handel, Haydn, Mozart, and Telemann with the Royal Festival Orchestra of Ontario.

In October, Biggs returned, in more congenial weather, to the Kotzschmar Memorial Organ in Portland’s City Hall, performing Saint-Saëns and Handel with the Portland Symphony Orchestra. In the same month he played the Sowerby Concerto in Grand Rapids, and the composer, a native of that city, was present for the occasion. A week later, while in Milwaukee for a solo recital, Biggs was told of efforts by the local chapter of the American Guild of Organists to install a pipe organ in the Music Hall. He immediately went to bat for their cause. “Milwaukee’s Music Hall must have a real organ, one with character,” he told a newspaper reporter. “That you must have and not settle for a substitute.” In 1969, through the generosity of the Miller family (of brewery fame) Milwaukee did at last acquire a “real organ” for its Music Hall—and of course Biggs was engaged to play it.

Biggs went abroad again in 1965. He stepped up his domestic recording activity, but the flurry of orchestral appearances was winding down. In February he took the Sowerby work to Detroit’s Ford Auditorium (where it again met with a lukewarm reception), and in March he played Saint-Saëns, Poulenc, and Handel with the Florida Symphony Orchestra in Orlando.

The number of new and rebuilt tracker-action organs in America had been increasing steadily during the early 1960s, and Biggs was a natural choice when a major concert was given on any of them. Some of his 1965 engagements included recitals on a von Beckerath organ in Florida’s Stetson University, a restored nineteenth-century Johnson organ in Sacramento, and an instrument by the German builder Bosch in the Ethical Society of St. Louis. But the engagement that doubtless gave him the greatest satisfaction was the dedication of the splendid new four-manual Flentrop organ in St. Mark’s Cathedral, Seattle. Biggs had been in correspondence concerning it for several years with both Flentrop and the Cathedral’s organist, Peter Hallock, and was probably responsible for having initially recommended Flentrop. The organ, in an ideal gallery location in the reverberant, high-ceilinged concrete building, was the largest instrument Flentrop had yet exported to the United States and the first new tracker-action organ of any consequence on the West Coast. It was, and remains, a positive musical force in the Pacific Northwest.

In December 1966 Biggs revived Aaron Copland’s Symphony for Organ and Orchestra with Leonard Bernstein and the New York Philharmonic Orchestra, and finally wrung a compliment out of the New York press when Robert Jacobson of the Post wrote:

The role of the organ, as intended by Copland, is as an integral part of the orchestra, rather than as a solo instrument; and last night’s performance benefited from the highly authoritative performance by E. Power Biggs. Mr. Bernstein gave the Symphony a super-charged reading which received an enthusiastic reception from the audience who also saluted the beaming Mr. Copland, seated in the first terrace.

Biggs turned 60 in March 1966. He had been troubled with arthritis for nearly a decade, but he showed few signs of slowing down. He took good care of his health, and conscientiously followed all of Dr. Carey Peters’s orders save one. Over and over again the physician patiently suggested that Biggs take things a bit easier. “I wish you could arrange to take some time off,” he wrote in 1962. “The constant pressure and always being on the production line certainly is a stressful situation. . . .” Dr. Peters further suggested that Biggs take a bona fide vacation of a week or two twice a year, and Biggs did yield a little on this account, taking occasional spring breaks in Bermuda or Curaçao. But one wonders if Peters ever found out that Biggs also managed to arrange for practice in these places, giving complimentary recitals in return. At any rate, Peters’s admonitions to slow down continued with every annual checkup, although the physician must eventually have realized that this just was not Biggs’s style. Inaction probably caused him more stress than activity, which he seemed to thrive on.

That Biggs’s credo of hard work and confidence in one’s own abilities still held meaning for him is revealed in his answer to a letter received in December 1966 from a sixteen-year-old admirer in California. The youngster confessed that he had not known there was more to music than just the Rolling Stones until he had heard a recording of Biggs playing Bach’s Toccata and Fugue in D minor on the radio. He wanted to know how Biggs had gotten started, and if—as his parents and others had told him—it took a lot of money to become successful. Biggs, who had come to America unknown and almost penniless in the middle of the Great Depression, must surely have chuckled at this question. He replied to the boy,

Thanks so much for your letter and your comments. I think the only way to succeed in music or in any other field is to work at it just as hard as you can. And you may have confidence that you can do this just as well as anyone else.

Don’t feel that “you have to have money to be noticed.” You’ll earn that as you go along. In any case, if you love music just stick to it.