Oberlin Conservatory of Music
Warner Concert Hall
The Van Cleef Family Organ
Flentrop Orgelbouw (1974)
Stoplist
Dedicated in Memory of George Whitfield Andrews
Founded in 1833, Oberlin College—and later the Oberlin Conservatory of Music (1865), the nation’s oldest continuously operated school of music—has offered studies in organ and sacred music since its earliest days. The beginnings of its organ collection can be traced to the 1870s (the students of preceding decades having utilized modest organs in the churches of Oberlin) with the first contracted instrument by William Clarke of Indianapolis. Storied names from American organbuilding history—Holtkamp, Hook, Johnson, Roosevelt, Skinner—followed over the next century, inspiring generations of Oberlin alumni, many of whom would become prominent American pedagogues, performers, and organbuilders. Through the winds of time, war, social change, and reform, Oberlin has led with an undiminished zeal for the art of the organ in repertoire and design.
By the mid-1960s, Minuro Yamasaki’s iconic Neogothic conservatory had transformed Oberlin’s architectural landscape. At the heart of the new complex is the soaring Warner Concert Hall, home initially to an organ by Holtkamp that contained elements of the first Warner Hall organs (Roosevelt, Skinner) from the original conservatory edifice. As the light, airy new conservatory looked to the future, the organ professors of the day began discerning a path toward the historical spirit of earlier epochs of organ design and practice. In 1968 the bold decision was made to honorably relocate the previous instrument and to embark on a course toward historically informed organbuilding.
Oberlin’s association with the venerable Dutch firm of Flentrop began in 1958 with the arrival of its first instrument in Oberlin (which now boasts no fewer than eight Flentrops). Dirk Flentrop’s experience with historic building principles, his intimate knowledge of the ancient organs of the Netherlands and Germany, and his firm’s uncompromising craftsmanship brought into being an instrument seemingly out of the mists of time.
The Organ Reform Movement was still in a phase of heady exploration in the 1970s. While no single historic instrument of the 17th century was copied in its design, the 1974 Flentrop encapsulates elements of the masterpieces of the Northern Germanic builders. The instrument presents immediately as Werkprinizip, classically laid out in a relatively shallow, solid mahogany case. The key and stop actions are all mechanical, with the console located behind the Rugwerk case on a raised platform above the action for the lowest manual division. Pipe alloys of tin and lead emulate the tried and proven practices of the European master builders of earlier centuries. The tonal disposition reflects the glories of the organ’s historic forebears: choruses in all divisions, flutes of varying timbres and pitches, and reeds full of color for individual, or choral, personality.
The Flentrop’s arrival in the summer of 1974 was the opening act of a generational acquisition campaign. Today it is an integral part of an encyclopedic collection of instruments representing five centuries of building practice across multiple national styles. While this organ represents but one view of the historical movement of building, it is not static in its outlook. The instrument was a thunderbolt—not just to Oberlin but to organ culture in the United States and beyond.
The Flentrop has changed and challenged cherished views of design, opening the way for builders of all types to embrace an informed, historical eclecticism in construction. The material history of the instrument has also caused its various caretakers and advisors to assess the aesthetics of timbre as it relates to history and function. In its first half century of service, the organ’s tonal palette has undergone sensitive, informed alterations to cut-ups, mechanical improvements to reeds and key actions, and expansion of wind systems, all in the service of providing a platform for historically informed music instruction to young organists and future organbuilders.
While 50 years is a milestone for us mortals, it is but a minor port of call in the voyage of time. Compared to the great instruments of the past that inspired its creation, the Van Cleef Family Organ is still a youngster. This wondrous machine, in a small town in the fields of northern Ohio, continues to speak across time, drawing one into the music and instruments of ages past. On behalf of generations of Oberlin alumni, teachers, organbuilders, and lovers of the organ at large, we pause in reflection and thanksgiving for Mama Flentrop, wishing her well into the next 50 years, and beyond.
Celebrations for this landmark instrument will take place November 15–17, 2024. More information can be found at oberlin.edu/organ.
David Kazimir ’99
Curator of Organs
Oberlin College and Conservatory
Perspectives
Jonathan Moyer ’12, David S. Boe Chair and Associate Professor of Organ, Oberlin College and Conservatory
Great instruments challenge us to listen through our fingertips. At every lesson, as I climb the steps to the grand balcony on which the Flentrop organ stands, I am reminded of the generations of teachers and students who have shared many holy hours together over the last 50 years. In my own teaching, I have witnessed musical transformations as this remarkable instrument has guided both student and teacher toward a deeper understanding of the scores we place on its hallowed music desk. Through its graceful idiosyncrasies, the instrument reveals a unique interpretation for that moment and place. This is perhaps the greatest lesson that Mama Flentrop teaches us.
Christa Rakich ’75, Visiting Professor of Organ,
Oberlin College and Conservatory
The return to school after summer break in 1974 was unlike any other. When we’d left in May, a three-manual Holtkamp stood proudly in the front balcony of Warner Concert Hall, its case-free diagonal lines and prominent swell shades so much fun to watch. I entered the hall avoiding a glance back until I’d reached the center of the room.
The organ took my breath away. Where the Holtkamp had filled the balcony with clean-cut geometry and blonde wood, the Flentrop’s tall, slim case was a deep raspberry with blue trim, a Rugwerk hung on the balcony rail—and there were pipe shades! Gold-leafed filigree sparkled. This was a whole new world.
It was a new world tonally as well, and my first experience with what Charlie Fisk called “wind management.” By varying the speed and depth of attacks and releases, it was possible to make the organ sing, sigh, scream, gasp, dance. Expressive options deepened and expanded. Did I want a chord to end with an “M” or a “K”? The power was in my hands!
Erik Suter ’95, Concert Artist, First Officer,
Southwest Airlines
No instrument has taught me more about the art of organ playing than the 1974 Flentrop. The finest organs teach the player how to turn a machine into an expressive musical instrument. The Flentrop in Warner is one such rare instrument. The voicing is particularly vocal. I would often play entire pieces on a single stop just to admire the beauty of it, as well as to hear and learn the expressive nature of a piece. The action was even and crisp, and a pleasure to play—yet exacting and somewhat unforgiving. There is no hiding technical deficiencies on that instrument. It simply makes you a better player. But most of all, that organ taught me that a fine musical instrument transcends any style of music one endeavors to perform on it.
Erica Johnson ’99, College Organist,
Wellesley College
Not only was this the largest Flentrop I had ever played, but its Northern European specification, flat pedalboard, sensitive wind system, unequal temperament, and heavier action took me by surprise. It led me to sharpen my keyboard technique and deepen my listening skills. We played nearly all of the keyboard literature that was not wedded to a swell box. Even Widor and Duruflé worked, with the assistance of two very busy registrants. Heiller’s Tanz-Toccata and Eben’s Sonntagsmusik elicited great reactions! From my subsequent experience playing organs throughout Northern Europe, I see that it was the Oberlin Flentrop that prepared me in countless ways to understand this style of organbuilding: how to register various textures, how to interpret the music and its sensitivity, and how to push the envelope of what styles can be brought to life on any given instrument.
Justin Murphy-Mancini ’14, Paul Fritts Endowed Chair in Organ Performance and Studies, Pacific Lutheran University
The Flentrop was a powerful teacher, not just with respect to the music of German Baroque composers but also for 19th- and 20th-century repertories. I felt immensely privileged to put myself in the shoes of Robert Schumann when I gave a lecture-recital on the performance practice of his organ works. Just as he must have traveled to the Dresden Hofkirche to play the Silbermann there, and then returned home to his pedal piano, I experienced the unique challenges of interpreting his music upstairs at the Flentrop and downstairs on an upright pedal piano. It absolutely illuminated the challenges of engaging with Schumann’s music under circumstances resembling the ones he knew.
Katelyn Emerson ’15, Concert Artist and
2016 NYACOP Winner
What I have come to appreciate most about the Flentrop is the satisfaction of combining power with subtle shading of touch. The aural response from the action changes drastically depending on how attacks and releases are handled. The skills learned from studying with this instrument—listening to how the organ responds coupled with the physical techniques that allow this variety of touch—have been indispensable in the years since my studies.
Photography: Tanya Rosen-Jones
