His smile was soft, warm, open and friendly. There was nothing pretentious, no old cliché’s, and no lines in this man’s persona. Everything about him was refreshing and comfortable for me from the instant we met. His silence was a declaration that he didn’t need to vocalize all his thoughts. He could get his ideas across with his eyes and his smile alone.
He wasn’t there to impress anyone, but to enjoy the company of others and share in the conversation. That’s another thing I found refreshing -- the conversation. Often times divorced individuals over fifty live unknowingly in the past. They get stuck there, and don’t know how to get back into the present. They grow stagnant. It’s difficult to have a conversation with someone in this frame of mind. There’s no space for possibility nor for creating new experiences. They are too busy re-living the old ones, and it’s all too stale. The conversations I crave are those that are alive with possibilities and promote growth and unpredictable outcomes. Just when I think I’ve reached the limits of the dimension of who I am, I’m stretched farther beyond what I ever thought I could be.
The conversation this night was interesting. I inquired about the German gentlemen’s occupation; and he said softly, “I make pipe organs.” So simple and sweet was his reply, so unpretentious. Before I could ask all the questions that were coming to mind, the conversation quickly turned down another avenue -- travel. He just returned from Portugal. That sounded interesting, and since I hadn’t had the good fortune yet to travel there, I began asking him the particulars of his trip. He talked of friends and churches he visited. When he discussed art and museums, I found that we shared some common interest. He had captured my attention, no doubt, this soft-spoken man.
I could visualize his trips he was describing them, and found myself fantasizing of the future when I would travel the back roads of Europe to explore its untold beauty for myself. I shared with him my desires to tour many places I had seen only in books or on the Internet. I mentioned that I had no desire to see the tourist spots. Instead, I wanted to travel the back roads. I could imagine the fun in tasting their life styles, touching their culture first-hand, and experiencing the friendship and camaraderie found in picturesque small towns and villages. I was looking for the experience of being in the presence of ancient art, culture, history, and ruins. As I shared my wishes, I added it would need to be at a reasonable price, of course! I wasn’t looking to bring home souvenirs, unless they took the form of pictures and addresses of newfound friends -- Portugal, wow! As he talked, I pictured in my mind the good times he was describing with the people he encountered along his journey. There is a history in the old world churches that is not found in the churches in the States. This is the first stepping-stone to going places -- you need a passport! I sat that evening and listened attentively to all the pictures he was painting for me with his spoken memories. It was a delightful evening and totally unexpected. As it came to a close, we said our good-byes, and I silently thanked God for allowing our paths to cross, if only for a moment.
Two weeks later, we met again at another single's meeting. I took down his telephone number. I wanted to get an interview with him for research for an upcoming fiction novel. Once more, I felt that there was more to this man than was obvious, but I had no idea to what extent. After several attempts to get together, he finally arranged his schedule to include the interview on Saturday. He informed me that he would be leaving the next Tuesday for a two-month stay on the east coast. This would be my last chance for some time to get my interview with him.
It’s now Saturday and is a pleasurable morning, with fall setting in quite nicely. It’s the day of my interview with the man who makes pipe organs. I arrived at his office early, and relax in the car to a soothing CD. It’s good preparation before an interview to meditate and clear my thoughts. It allows me to unwind and reach that “void” where nothing becomes a distraction and everything is possible. The best interviews come when I can be in the moment with the person and not somewhere else in my mind. Sharply at 9:00 a.m., I gather my recorder and notebook. Approaching the front door, I give it a hardy tug. It’s locked. I pull so hard that my arm begins to hurt. I knock as hard as I can -- no answer. Earlier I observed that there were two cars and a pickup in the parking lot. I assumed one was his. Wrong! I knock several times more -- still no answer. The building’s architecture is simple and modern in design. It projects a clean, organized look to all who survey. I see lights on in the shop, and now my curiosity begins to swing into motion. If he is going to stand me up for this interview, I am certainly not leaving without gaining something for my venture. And in my mind, there’s a story already developing.
I peer through the first window in a large overhead door to get a glimpse of the persona of the man from his surroundings. As I view the room, in the center there’s machinery used for cutting lumber to exact specifications. The room is clean as would be any well-organized shop. Chaos in any shop causes accidents -- even I know that. Knowing where your tools are, allows the flow to be present and keeps the creativity ongoing without distraction. A fifth-burner and a pot sit on one workbench. I’m not sure yet if it is for work or nourishment. Metal rods are nearby, so possibly it is for work, but at this point it’s only a guess. It appears to be more than a one-man shop.
Through the next window, I get another view. The craftsman’s tools are different in this second room. The machinery is smaller and the wood is finer. The room houses an ample supply of assorted pipes. While the first room had the high ceiling space necessary for shifting large pieces of lumber, this second room contains a loft, and, once more, it is organized and clean. There also stands a table and on it are a few metal rods, along with some inventory specification sheets, alluding to the precision required to create this art. The next room is smaller yet in dimension, and still another set of tools arranged neatly on a padded blanket outspread on a table. Two microwave ovens, one dishwasher, a refrigerator, and a coffee maker at the far end of the room suggest that someone spends quite a bit of time here. On one side of the room appears to be a box with an old fashioned keyboard protruding from the front-- some sort of rough organ would be my guess.
Although it would be a nice warm autumn day if one were standing in the sun’s rays, it is my misfortune to be snooping through his windows on the shady side of the building. As I continue to write down my observations, my fingers remind me of the coolness of the morning air. Even with my coat on, I’m getting a chill, but I continue writing my notes as fast as they come to mind. I want to be sure to observe all I can if this is to be my only vantage point for knowing the man behind the gentle smile. As I continue to write, he rounds the corner, wasting no time in apologizing for his tardiness. I guarantee him that being late was of little concern, and that being stood-up was more the thought of the moment. In his graciousness, he continues making apologizes as he unloads things from the trunk of his car and unlocks the front door to his private world. We walk inside to a small foyer providing a display of sketches of eight churches. This combination of art, architecture, and churches lay the foundation for the conversation to flow to where else but this man’s craft.
The mix of the cold air and a full cup of coffee have now had their effect on me and my first request is to use the bathroom. This room contains a nice-sized walk-in shower. Oddly enough there is storage space above the sink, housing what might be some old financial records. This is the second time I have noticed the distinct interplay of a work and home environment. It hints of not knowing where one ends and the other begins. Furthermore, it is becoming apparent that it might not be so easy to separate the two, nor would one want to, if given the chance. For separating them would divide the man himself, and this would seem to be unnatural.
As I exit one private sector of his domain, on the small unassuming wall to my left hangs an award from the American Guild of Organists. I read it, and I feel a wee bit more of the soft-spoken man’s essence. Walking back into the reception area, my eyes catch sight of a small, simple-crafted organ sitting in front of the windows. He explains modestly that he made it in 1964 when he worked with his uncle.
I would describe the office furniture as either modern or contemporary. Framed, colored photos of the treasures this man has crafted are modestly displayed on the wall behind the receptionist’s desk. Within this humble showing, each photo quietly paints a vision of some of the glowing facets of the man who brought them to life. Although he has declared several times that he is a private man, there is nothing private in how his work reflects the man. Or is there? When viewing the pictures, I immediately have a great respect for this stranger at my side. There is a warmth in both his presence and his art.
He puts on coffee for the two of us, and, while waiting for it to brew, we begin my tour of his shop. He leads the way with a brisk walk straight back to the machine room to start. “How many men work in the shop and what are their years of experience,” I ask. He informs me that there are eleven men including apprentices with up to eighteen years of experience. My next question is in regard to women in his profession. He explains that, “no lady ever showed up, but that there are some ladies in Germany.” Yet, he says: "it’s a physical job -- ladders inside the organ, to climb -- things like that." What do you know; I wouldn’t have visualized ladders inside the organs before today!
We linger in the machine room only long enough for me to ask about the melting pot on the fifth-burner. He explains it is to soften the old hide glue, “animal glue” for a restoration. I then ask about the correct length and dimensions of the pipes, since it is obvious that these pipes have been carved, not just cut to specification. By way of explanation, he tells me that there’s a “feel to it,” and that, “you repeat what has worked before.” I can relate to his explanation because I feel the same way when I craft things with my hands. It’s that awesome feeling you experience when you are in that space where time stands still and everything flows under God’s guidance.
In the next room are two computers atop drafting tables with large CRT’s and timesaving programs to create the designs. Above the table is a single shelf holding volumes simply labeled “Completed Organs” and “Organs in Progress.” There is a small makeshift kitchen area along one wall, which I viewed earlier from the window. In passing, he mentions that a former employee is making the carving for the latest organ and that a lady is doing some gilding as well. For sure there is no shortcut, as it still requires the artist’s touch.
He begins to explain the process to me. It starts by him meeting and discussing the needs of the committee. They listen to other organs and get a feel for what they like. He maps visual and tonal designs for their review. He further explains that when they buy the art, they buy the man and all he represents. As he continues, it quickly becomes apparent to me that I am in the presence of a man who breathes integrity into his art as well as his life. There is nothing flimflam in his demeanor. His love for his art supports a solid foundation of trust and reflects his confidence in his abilities to provide for the communities’ needs. His straightforward approach breathes that refreshing essence into the conversation once again. I begin to cherish God’s guidance that led me to his path. He is more than a man who makes pipe organs -- he is a master in his craft and a Co-Creator with God.
He mentions that there is a church on the east coast where the new organ has just been assembled, and he will be spending the next three months there until the “voicing” is complete. He decides to share pictures of the new organ from the east-coast church’s web site. We work our way forward into the reception area once more to begin surfing the Net. One after another, he brings up pictures of the work-in-progress that the church has placed on display on their web site. Each picture fills his voice and heart with excitement as he explains in-depth what we are viewing. After our short tour on the web of the past couple of days’ work-in-progress, he becomes somewhat apprehensiveness, yet graciously allows me to start the interview. It is refreshing to hear his open, candid, and honest answers to my questions. We are witness to some precious moments of laughter as he begins to share himself. At times, he doesn’t need much encouragement to say what he feels instead of what he thinks I might want to hear. Only on a few occasions does he point out that a question is “too personal.” He isn’t rude about it, just factual. In our sharing, he is giving me the interview and I am giving him his privacy when he decides the occasion so dictates. It is unfolding a win-win situation that pleases me. It is also probably becoming my best interview to date. I would imagine the subject matter would appear to be the deciding factor contributing greatly to the outcome.
I had no idea of the complexity of this quiet man when I first met him. My instincts were proving to be quite keen with regard to the treasures that lay beyond our eye's view, and into this private man’s essence. This man is gentle and gracious. Ego has no place in his persona, nor does he allow it to steal an instant of his energy. When he gives me eye contact, it's with his very being as well as with his soul. I quickly become aware once more that he is guarding his privacy. This doesn’t bother me now. I feel that for him this is necessary and only temporary until I earn his trust.
He has a couple of different laughs. One is soft and gentle like when he is recalling simpler times in his childhood. There is another laugh used when he and his friend are engaged in their conversation. He is comfortable with expressing the good feelings he is experiencing in the moment. There is nothing phony about either laughs and that is quite refreshing as well. Then there is another all together distintive laugh when he has a little frisky thought and shares it with me -- somewhat mischievous, and very endearing.
A showing of his office concludes my tour. This is indeed his very own treasure room. He proudly shows me a book of posters compiled by his brother and another man. He mentions that their work is well known in Europe. His brother’s work does indeed display a style all it’s own and quite appealing to the eye. There is a picture of his two-and-a-half -year-old grandson on display. The pride of grandpapa shows and the smile on his face tells it best. This child indeed is his greatest treasure.
While showing me floor plans for a new home he is building, a friend drops in to discuss something of immediate importance. He excuses himself for a while and turns his complete attention to his friend. While it might appear that they are discussing work, I really don’t think you can call it “work." I can’t help over-hearing them discussing art, comparing notes, and exchanging ideas, all with a passion that some will never know. Though the office is quite this Saturday afternoon, it comes alive with the possibilities created in their conversation. When he laughs with his friend, it gives off a pleasant echo and musical tone of it’s own as his laughter resounds through the shop. As I continue my exploration of his private haven, a plaque of gratitude captures my attention. The parish in San Diego presented it to him in 1993. The inscription reads: “To Orgelbaumeister ... and his Associates.” It goes on to name all eight of the associates; one of them a woman. “By the skill of their hands and craft, wood and metal are transformed into sound for the glory of God; thereby the musical traditions of past centuries are made to live in our time and beyond.” These words speak of one more facet of this man in praise of his contributions. Yet to speak with him, his tone and conversation do not hint of grandeur or a pompous attitude. There is a comfort when in his presence and he has a way of putting you at ease. I can sense without hesitation that this is not a man who “acts,” but a man who “is” present, and lives in each moment.
At times during our conversation, as I looked into his eyes, I received some of his thought vibrations. One might visualize that people “read” other peoples’ minds. But the experience is that the first person sends his thought vibrations out over the waves, and another, who is equally in-tuned, picks them up. I’ve been told that my abilities are sharper than most. It’s darn right scary at first, then it becomes a second nature. At one point, upon receiving a phone call, our conversation stopped. I could sense the turmoil as his thoughts were arranging and then rearranging his time in an effort to fit it all into his schedule. He was cautious to not be too caught up in the time constraints, but, instead, to be present in the moment. He was enjoying educating me in the art of his craft as reflected in his facial expressions. He has a grand nature. His love for his work is not a separate part of him but so entwined that to gaze upon the art is to feel the very essence of the artist and the man.
I continue on with my exploration of the other treasures in his office. On one entire wall is a bookcase containing books, pottery, a tea set, and more cups. There is a leather water bucket, which he later explains was used by altar boys to put out fires. An antique door lock of at least twelve inches or more rests on another shelf, along with a picture of a family member forging some metalwork. The bookshelf is housing some old German pictures: three sketches, one in color made by a relative. A front-desk hotel bell sits on display on the lowest shelf. I wonder what the story is regarding this treasure. Someday I’ll have to ask if I’m lucky enough to be invited to share more time with him in the future. There is a great deal of history in the books on the shelves as well, reiterating once more (in a softer vibration) still another private side of the man with a caring soul. Two old-box cameras rest historically on the bookcase as well as a couple of dried roses hung upside-down. They must have a story all their own to tell, no doubt. Along the wall facing his desk stands an ornate antique cabinet with a very large key protruding out of the keyhole of the top drawer. Behind his desk rest some of his brother's posters rest against the wall.
Still more acknowledgments from acquired friendships over the years hang quietly, not for boasting, mind you, but as reminders of other times and places that now reside only in his fondest memories. The picture of his grandson catches my eye once more. It reminds me of the teddy bear looking for a friend, which sits in the corner of a room in my home. Somehow, I must get the two of them together. It feels like a good match to me, and Bear needs a new home. Strewn about are a few floor plans of his new home he is having built. This is someone who contributes so much to life. He knows that God has contributed to him and placed His trust in the organ master to give back to the people a legacy of love so that all may share in the music created with the crafter’s touch. To see through his eyes is showing to be somewhat of a spiritual adventure for me as well, lifting me to new heights. If there were to be an oversight on his part, I venture to say it would be minute and not intentional.
It saddens me to think that my involvement with this individual will be over in just a few short minutes. They are flying by so fast, and yet there is much more to learn. There is a feeling within -- a desire to know this man more -- even if it takes a lifetime of friendship. There is an adventure that comes with the thrill of the discovering, you know, and there is so much here worth discovering. There is no ego in this man, which I have yet to witness. All the treasures of his office reveal tiny glimpses of a person who is still quite a stranger; yet one who is capturing my loyalty and trust. I wonder, is there time for one more friend?
He continues smiling as he speaks of his kids and laughs once more within the company of his friend. I know little of his talents, but could be easily encouraged to learn. He listens respectfully and attentively when others speak. Again, his eyes reveal that he is not just waiting his turn to talk once more. He is present to your words and gives space for you to express your thoughts. He chooses his words wisely, stopping only briefly, probably because of the differences in our individual definitions. This is a private man, yes, but he can be open when he has an established foundation of trust to build on.
His friend left the building for a moment, and the master turns his attention now to me. He shows me a sketch of his latest pipe organ. The precision involved in organ making becomes apparent. The contrasts within the layout are striking, to say the least. While the lines show the many facets to this priceless piece, the woodwork design shows a softness in it’s curves, as will the music itself in times to come. The straight lines illustrate precision, while the curved wood design within the artwork illustrates the movement. Just looking at the sketch spurs the imagination to hear the pipes come alive with harmony. One could also visualize the majestic events to be set to music. I can anticipate the first reverent notes vocalizing from the grand shinning pipes, while deeper tones vibrate from within its belly. I have always shared a love of sacred organ music and have found it quite moving. After today’s sharing, however, I can visualize enjoying even greater spiritual and passionate experiences in times to come.
Continuing my exploration, I spy a stack of recent photos sitting on the corner of the desk of his current creation. I carefully pick them up and begin to study them in depth. Square, box-like wooden pipes, all precision cut, standing taller than their makers are the subjects of one photo. The carefulness of the workers moving each piece to its final destination, as well as the teamwork involved, is depicted clearly in the next snapshot. The third picture captures a blue-jeaned pair of legs hanging over a ledge -- the young man is so involved that he is engulfed by it all. Legs next to pipes speak of the grand interaction between man and instrument. The patience it takes to put this artwork together is well defined in yet another photo. Just as one would move a priceless historic treasure found in an excavation, patience and carefulness are used in moving each piece. The beaming faces reflect the pride of those orchestrating the project and assembling the masterpiece. One picture depicts an enormous hall (probably used for dances) with large pillars. Its current use is as a temporary home for all the unpacked crates, carefully labeled in an organized fashion, markings designate the tops of each crate as well. Some crates are marked with arrows indicating something yet unknown to me. The collection of pictures unfolds the work in progress and tells the story well as I carefully examine each new picture. Not only did I not know that there were actual ladders inside these great works of art, but also I wasn’t totally aware of the time it takes to assemble them correctly. I wonder if there is a wrong way to do it? I noticed some black rubber tubes. Later I asked what they were for; he described them as a “wind tune.” Even though there are massive parts to this work of art, more pictures reveal the smaller, more intricate pieces important in putting it all together and giving it life. One picture painted the story of a man working with a fine tool to finish a wooden pipe. He is intent in his work; his devotion is more than apparent.
A whole new world is unfolding to me. The craftsmen who bring this art to life are some of the silent contributors to our many hours of inspiration and joy. The door to spiritual thoughts opened for me. This might not have happened for me had I not been introduced to the master. The music sets the stage for lasting memories, from childhood, through maturity and beyond. Through traditional services, christenings, first communions, Christmas and Easter, weddings, and, when parting the earth, the music guides us to Eternity. I would venture to say that a man or woman is “called” to this purpose in life. This interview has, without a doubt; boldly awakened my awareness of their contributions. Much more stands amidst the organ than my eyes could visualize or conceive before today. My inner vision has come alive to teach, enlighten, and guide me, and now I know things I didn’t know before. Music always had a way of stirring my soul, but this time spent with the master has enriched my vision and appreciation more than my wildest dreams.
This new perspective on how organs are crafted, and the people who make them, has heightened my respect for their craftsmanship. It has awakened me to the prep-work involved in order for someone like me to enjoy the finished product. The vision of the prelude to the finished piece will, from this day on, be an intricate part of the experience each new time the passion of the music lifts my soul to higher heights. The time spent with the master was all too swift, but then that’s what usually happens when you are enjoying good company!
Now it’s Sunday morning and I have listened not once, nor twice, but three times to our taped discussion. Each time I listen, it becomes more apparent that the questions I asked many times before to strangers and friends were now reflecting a vision of something totally different from those prior interviews. Because the master is indeed a personal man, the answers to what once seemed to be such common questions have become now indeed equally personal. Somewhere between our introduction and our good-byes, the very private man gave me a treasured glimpse into some very private thoughts. I can’t misuse his trust. What I am listening to this morning isn’t just research material for a fiction book. It is a vision of someone special, and of a special time of sharing that is meant to be cherished, and treasured, and of course, kept private!
I can envision a concert in a Chapel. A talented tenor has just finished his reverent rendition of “Crying in the Chapel," and tears fill the eyes of all in the sharing of the moment. Children, previously seated with their parents, rise up from the congregation and gather quietly in front of the master’s work of art to sing in harmony for God and all to enjoy. They start their melody with “I’d like to teach the world to sing in perfect harmony”-- truly an inspiration from God Himself! Though the congregation shouldn’t be, their applause is unanimous and fitting to give thanks for this moment of beauty and joy. In their next rendition, “It’s a small world after all,” again sung sweetly and reverently, we are reminded of how small a part we all play in the grand scheme of life. Yet collectively we share the grandeur with the Lord. The short but powerful chanting of “God is Love” which follows, says it all in three short words. The melody concludes with my favorite, “Let there be piece on Earth and Let it Begin with Me.” Can you visualize the moment? Do you feel the flow of God’s glowing energy and love throughout the Chapel? Wow what a thought! Carl Sandberg once wrote, “Nothing happens unless first a dream.” All of this envisioned because a simple, quiet man had the presence to build his vision. What miracles we behold when love does flow!
