Organ BlowersDavid Bridgeman-Sutton
looks for an old song and considers the vital role of those who manned the lungs of old instruments. 
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A visitor to these pages asks if anyone has the words and music ~ or a recording ~ of a song called The Organ Blower. (Note: he has since found these. see: Blower verses) This probably dates from between the wars and reflects the sadness of someone who has been made redundant by the advent of an electric blower.
Pictures in psalters and other manuscripts from the Middle Ages show small organs, often of the kind that St Cecilia is usually shown playing, in windows and on Christmas cards. Sometimes these are blown by the player's left hand while the right plays a melody on the keys ~ a kind of pipe-concertina. More often, a blower operates a pair of bellows that seem to be connected directly to the wind-chest so that some skill would have been needed to ensure a steady wind.
Pictures in psalters and other manuscripts from the Middle Ages show small organs, often of the kind that St Cecilia is usually shown playing, in windows and on Christmas cards. Sometimes these are blown by the player's left hand while the right plays a melody on the keys ~ a kind of pipe-concertina. More often, a blower operates a pair of bellows that seem to be connected directly to the wind-chest so that some skill would have been needed to ensure a steady wind.
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Larger instruments, which are small by today's standards, are shown being pumped by a number of blowers, whose efforts seem to have required direction and co-ordination by the players. Introduction of wind reservoirs later reduced the need for this.
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When German and Dutch builders began to construct really large organs in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, wind production did not keep pace technically with other aspects of the art. The only solution was to increase the size and number of bellows. Woodcuts dating from that period show provision for six or eight blowers, operating handles, pedals and occasionally mangle-like wheels. Except in organo pleno passages, these could work in relays and the provision of copious reservoirs allowed some flexibility in their quickness of response to varying demands.
In a French cathedral, visited soon after the last world war, there were five or six centrally pivoted walkways, each provided with a handrail that descended under the weight of the blowers as they walked to and fro. The reservoir was enormous and, once full, could sustain the wind supply for several minutes. An indicator, reminiscent of a ship's engine room telegraph, kept player and blowers in touch.
In a French cathedral, visited soon after the last world war, there were five or six centrally pivoted walkways, each provided with a handrail that descended under the weight of the blowers as they walked to and fro. The reservoir was enormous and, once full, could sustain the wind supply for several minutes. An indicator, reminiscent of a ship's engine room telegraph, kept player and blowers in touch.
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Well into the last century, most churches and concert halls relied on a single blower - usually male - to work a handle up and down, with a "tell tale" to regulate their efforts. Reminiscences of past players show that difficulties often arose. Blowers could be erratic in attendance, inattentive, with resultant and distressing failure of the wind supply. Many were downright cussed. Tales abound of blowers who arbitrarily limited the number of verses sung in each hymn and who refused to pump for tunes they disliked.
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Friction was often greatest when the blower, normally hidden from view behind the organ, slipped out of the vestry door during the sermon and retired to house or tavern for a refreshing glass of beer. Not infrequently, this resulted in the last hymn and concluding voluntary having to be abandoned.
One church, in a town noted for the dark and nourishing stout brewed locally, decided to end the nuisance by locking the vestry door during the service. The organ blower overcame the obstacle by arriving early and smuggling in a pint bottle of the brew. This he uncorked beforehand to avoid a giveaway sound disturbing the sermon. The opened bottle he carefully placed beside his chair.
One church, in a town noted for the dark and nourishing stout brewed locally, decided to end the nuisance by locking the vestry door during the service. The organ blower overcame the obstacle by arriving early and smuggling in a pint bottle of the brew. This he uncorked beforehand to avoid a giveaway sound disturbing the sermon. The opened bottle he carefully placed beside his chair.
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Inevitably, the Sunday came when, during the opening voluntary, he had the misfortune to knock over his precious bottle. Many hard things have been said about architects' failures in making provision for organ galleries. Here, no water - or stout - proof floor covering had been specified and a shower of dark, alcoholic rain that had collected dust of ages, descended on to the choir in the vestry below. It was not until they had reached the choir stalls that the damage to robes was discovered. The procession immediately retraced its steps, leaving the congregation wondering if some new record in short services was being established for the Guinness Book of Records.
An electric blower was installed soon after. Which brings us back to the point. Can any one supply a copy of the McGill's song The Organ Blower? Messages will be willingly passed on. |
The story of organ blowers, part II, continued:
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David Bridgeman-Sutton,
2002
2002
