A Keyboard Instrument in Action

Early Keyboards in Israel: Reportage from the Field

First published at FoMRHI Quarterly Communications 116 (2010), 8-14

A Challenge

“Hi, Alex, looking for challenge?” Zami’s voice is full of friendly intrigue. “Then write down a phone number!”

I’ve known Zami Ravid, an Israeli collector of musical instruments, since the early 1990s; four different keyboards from his collection have passed through my workshop.

The challenge was to correctly tune an old cimbalom given as a present to an eighty-year-old female resident of Jerusalem, who learned to play it in Hungary when she was six and had not touched it since then. Instruments of this kind have always been rare in Israel, and during the late 1990s, the Internet did not provide easy access to information on their tuning. Of course, encyclopedic sources could be found, but I had already devised a plan of action.

Upon my arrival, I questioned the owner about songs that she might remember to play. I was lucky; among the tunes—most of which were of Hungarian gypsy origin—was a Hebrew melody Yerushalayim shel zahav (“Golden Jerusalem”), which both of us knew. Then, I asked her to play it as though the cimbalom were in tune. She succeeded in doing that, and I noticed the strings’ positions that corresponded with certain notes from the melody and the accompaniment. The scale sequence and octave division in both the treble and bass sections of the instrument were completed, in general, from the first attempt. Much later, however, I checked this topic through the Internet, and one of the suggested options was indeed very close to my tuning plan.

This exotic story serves as just one example of unique professional challenges we meet in our careers, not routine problems. Challenges, however, also await us in more ordinary circumstances, as we will see below.

The following pages will contain some general notes on early keyboards in Israel, and several selected stories from my experience of their restoration in the last twenty years.

A working space

A maintainer and restorer of early keyboards in Israel can cover a range of different instrument groups. There are, first of all, harpsichords of historical building and of revivals. The latter were brought by newcomers in the early 1960s; others were ordered from European builders during the 1980s, when a trend demanding authentic performance reached the country. Many educational institutions—music academies, universities, and conservatories—acquired historical harpsichords, spinets and virginals during that period and the following decades. Above eighty instruments of this kind are presently located in Israel.

Reed organs (harmoniums), brought to the Holy Land in the nineteenth century by missionaries and left for decades without maintenance, have now become rather exotic features of households. Some of them have been under my care. In churches, however, these instruments have finally become obsolete; either pipe or electric church organs have replaced them all.

Small pipe organs (positives) acquired by several music institutions in the last two decades serve continuo goals. They all are in playable condition.

Early pianos have been represented until now by four period square-pianos, only one of which is in playable condition, and four fortepianos of historical building.

Local problems

There are two problems regarding early keyboards—first of all, harpsichords—in Israel: hamsin and irregular maintenance. The first problem is caused by a weather phenomenon specific to this geographic area. Fifty days a year (hamsin means fifty in Arabic), a southern wind from the desert brings a heavy combination of temperature, barometric and humidity factors; people suffer from headaches, and frames of paintings are bent. Likewise, string instruments become out of tune, and a harpsichord soundboard may receive a wave-like shape seen by eye. After several years, such repeated events may cause unconvertible damage to the soundboard. Most historical harpsichords with a string length of c'' close to 36 cm (for soft iron stringing) or 38 cm (for steel wire stringing) become seriously damaged after only fifteen years. Though this problem has been resolved in recent years due to the prevalence of air conditioning, the lasting solution of the problem is reducing the general string tension—that is, tuning the instrument half a tone lower, and building by this occasion the transposing keyboard, if it is not already constructed. This routine operation stabilizes many instruments and keeps them in tune.

The second problem, however, is much more serious and caused by a human factor. Many local harpsichord owners generally do not take the necessary steps to maintain their instruments. Several times, I have been called to evaluate a harpsichord that has not received a maintenance check in ten to fifteen years, though an overhaul was needed and the maintainer’s name on the small sticker was almost unreadable.

Combinations of these two problems, to varying degrees of seriousness, create the range of my “routine practice.” Sometimes, however, there are no routine situations, as described in the following pages.

A reed organ

Zami Ravid knows to excite me each time he calls. This time, there was a small reed organ, harmonina, which he brought from France. My task was to rebuild the completely destroyed bellows.

Harmonina, an invention of Alexandre-François Debain, a mid-nineteenth century French builder, is a three-octave, foot-pump harmonium that works on the rather rare pressure principle.¹ Regarding the bellows, there was indeed little physical information left to study. For hours, I sat opposite the bellows to investigate them, as I attempted to follow the hypothetical technical thoughts of the original builder. In other words, I was calculating how I would build—from the beginning—bellows of that particular shape and size.

The next day, I devoted my time to searching for the appropriate materials—cardboard, thin leather, tappets—in different Jerusalem stores and workshops. Then, for the following two days, I completed the project, step by step (Fig. 1).

Fig. 1. Some steps in building the bellows

Fig. 2. Restored harmonina

The final touch was to correctly place colored tappets onto the bells, in order to appropriate the external design of the receiver part in the front side of the instrument. Other parts of the reed organ were in quite good condition. Except for cleaning the voices and other minor repairs, no work needed to be carried out. Harmonina, according to its builder’s concept, was designed as a melodic keyboard to be placed in front of a piano keyboard, so that the pianist’s right hand might play a melody with it, while the left hand performs the piano accompaniment. The octave span of the instrument, hence, was the same as in most contemporary pianos, i.e., 165 mm. The harmonina (Fig. 2) is presently working and being exhibited at “Zami's Music Box” Museum, Metula, Israel.

A square-piano

The earliest keyboard I repaired to playable condition, as it remains now, was a square-piano built by Baas, Paris, in 1800 (Fig. 3). Dr. Myrna Herzog, a specialist for Gamba, has recently possessed this instrument. In 1972, Johannes Carda restored the piano, having replaced the strings and dampers for new ones based on the initial design. Since then, the instrument has neither been played nor maintained.

Fig. 3. Square-piano “Baas”

Of course, there were many regulations and other repairs to complete, but the most important and essential points were as follows:

1) choosing an appropriate pitch;

2) bringing into order the quantity of pedals and their correct functioning; and

3) protecting the bottom parts of the pedal mechanisms during transportation.

The original pitch of the instrument was certainly unknown. When it arrived at the customer’s house, the pitch was approximately a'=380 Hz. The string length of c'' was about 32 cm. The range of possibilities, therefore, might be set between a'=420–460 Hz. The currently accepted pitch for early fortepianos, a'=430 Hz, did not meet ensemble realities in Israel; a possible tuning to a'=440 Hz would perhaps be dangerous because of the soundboard's condition and the age of the instrument. The solution was a'=415 Hz. After one month of tuning the instrument at that pitch, it became stable.

Fig. 4. The new scheme of pedals

The four originally designed pedals were capable of the following stops and functions (from left to right): piano, sustain, lute, and bell. The bell was missing, while the rest were complete. After some hesitation, we decided—together with my customer—to cancel the right pedal, and to arrange the rest in more a convenient order for use, from left to right: piano, lute, and sustain (Fig. 4.).

To protect the bottom sections, I added two square beams rounded off by sides, so that the square-piano might be easily pushed into and pulled out of a minivan.

A revival harpsichord

One of my customers, an amateur whose living circumstances did not allow him to purchase a historical harpsichord of normal length and keyboard compass, asked me to prepare a revival harpsichord “Ammer” (8' + 4"), so that he could play a Bach Allemande, the first bars of which include the low B-flat. I started to work on changing the keyboard sequence and planned to insert a BB key instead of f'''; I was also requested to build a transposing keyboard.

Fig. 5. Reconstructed “Ammer”

When I finished the ordered modification, my customer suddenly discovered that this Allemande also includes the low A. He asked me then to insert additional two low notes (instead of the upper D-sharp and E). I had to insert an additional bass string for each register, to move the jack guides by one position, to build a new portion of the key frame and to change the pitchone tone lower. The c'' length then became 36 (instead of 38) cm. I did not even change the steel strings for soft iron, though I did change the plectra (of only 8') from leather to Delrin.² The instrument, previously painted by Jerusalem artist Julia Lagus, is displayed in Fig. 5.

A historical harpsichord

When I receive a call regarding a harpsichord of symbolical value, I usually investigate the situation immediately. Several years ago, I discovered a Mitchell one-manual French instrument of the late 1970s. I have known William Mitchell, a harpsichord builder, since the mid-1990s. He is one of the most knowledgeable harpsichord experts I have ever met. There are at least five Mitchell harpsichords located in Israel.

The instrument was stored inappropriately, and its condition was really deplorable. I decided to elevate this instrument, modest by its exterior look, to a better condition more appropriate to its noble essence.

	Fig. 6. Taskin's damper shape

Fig. 7 Mitchell-Rosenblatt harpsichord

The process of designing a new look, ordering parts, and carrying out the necessary works required about one year. I had to replace a section of the strings in the short octave for those of another width in order to obtain more equal sound. I changed neither the original—narrow—space between the neighbor strings, nor the rarely used damper shape designed after Tascin's model (Fig. 6), i.e., the features provided a maximal plectra length (6.5 mm), very soft damping, and resonance from the inactivated register. The transposing keyboard (a'=415–440 Hz) received an additional position at a'=392 Hz. The new lute buffs made of soft felt now function on the rear 8' register. New legs, a music stand, moldings around the case, and a rose on the soundboard substantially enriched the exterior. The lit painting, a night panorama of old Jaffa made by Safed artist Masha Orlovich, lent the instrument an authentic nuance, being a “local motif” characteristic for lit paintings of keyboard instruments during the Renaissance and Baroque periods. The “last cord” was a name board with the two names of the builders. The instrument is now in the condition visible in Fig. 7.

Fade out

“Hi, Alex, looking for challenge?” The clear voice of Natalie, a red-haired harpsichordist, is full of friendly intrigue. “My spinet…”

I have to go, and my readers will not know what kind of experience is waiting for me this time. However, you already know that even though we do not seek challenges, they are waiting for us, for people whose everyday lives are so closely connected to previous centuries.

For restorers of musical instruments.

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<sup>1. For details on this principle, see: A. Rosenblatt, ‘A Keyboard Instrument in a Photograph. A Reed Organ at the House of German Clergy in Jerusalem: Meditating on a Photograph from the late 1920s,’ FoMRHI Quarterly 114, November 2009, p. 12.↩

2. As an example of an “unconsidered human factor,” this story may provide information for determining how to handle complicated cases regarding rebuilt musical instruments. For such a case, see: A. Rosenblatt, ‘A Keyboard Instrument in a Museum. A Rebuilt Italian Harpsichord at the Metropolitan Collection (NY): Restoring a Chain of Events’, FoMRHI Quarterly 115, March 2010.↩</sup>

A Keyboard Instrument in a Photograph

A Reed Organ at the House of German Clergy in Jerusalem:
Meditating on a Photograph from the late 1920s

First published at FoMRHI Quarterly Communications 114 (2009), 10-15

Restorer’s work is a kind of occupation that supposes full-time concentration and leaves little time for diffuse speculations. Sometimes, however, you are granted by this privilege. When restoring early keyboards, you often meet instruments from the reed organ family that are considered neither challenge nor charge. But suddenly you are interested in understanding why these beautiful and reliable instruments have completely disappeared from use… As a doctoral student at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, over the last year I have studied European missionary activity in 19th century Palestine. Among the archive materials was an historic interior photograph from the house of German clergy in Jerusalem. In the left corner of the black-white copy I recognized something similar to a small organ with open pipes. A search for the ‘readable’ source took time. But finally it was found (see Pict. 1 below).¹

Pict. 1. The Luther room at the house of German clergy in Jerusalem

After a short time, it was clear to me that the instrument was nothing but a foot-pump harmonium – one of the reed organs. The open pipes on its front were only for decoration, just an accessory of the luxury performance. No other function. My first impulse (as a restorer) was to find the reed organ from the photograph and restore it, if possible. This search, however, was accompanied by another search (that of a musicologist), i.e., a general look at reed organs as a disappearing type of keyboard instruments. The results of that study were so interesting that they formed the subject of the following pages. I would like to acknowledge Prof. Ruth Kark and Mr. Lavi Shay, historic geographers, as well as Mr. Gideon Shamir, organ builder, for their contribution to the work on this material.

Introduction

Jerusalem of the early 20th century: shadowed lanes, buildings with arches, the elements of different ages and cultures outside and inside… The city was a desired point for missionary activity, pilgrimage or just traveling for many Europeans. They sent letters; part of them wrote books. But there were people who photographed this city at that time. Who might nowadays—in age of digital photography—be amazed if somebody would bring from a journey some 15.000 photos? That’s almost normal. But in the early 20th century it was an extremely rare phenomenon. German traveler and photographer Paul Hommel (see Pict. 2 below)² made this number of photos in Palestine in the late 1920s. All these photos are now carefully stored at the Landkirchliches Archive in Stuttgart.

Pict. 2. Photographer Paul Hommel

The house of German clergy (Deutsche Propstei) in Jerusalem was one of Hommel's focal points. Three interior photos from that building included two musical instruments: a Grand piano and a harmonium mentioned above. Within a few years, the latter changed its location. It can be recognized on two photos: in the Luther room and in the nearby dining room. The building functioned as a clergy house until World War II. Then it was particularly destroyed and later rebuilt. A technical school is presently located there. Since the 1920s, the interior of the building has been substantially changed. Of the musical instruments seen in photos, not one is left…

Reed organs: their origin, types and periods of producing

All reed organs originate from the ancient Chinese sheng – a mouth organ with bamboo pipes and freely vibrating reeds. Direct predecessor: regal – a reed organ with pipes (15th – 17th centuries). The modern reed organ originated in France (1810) and was called orgue expressif. Originally, reed organs worked on the principle of air compression, which gave a possibility of changing their dynamics by the speed—and, thence, the power—of pumping. However, the suction method, developed in France about 1835, was refined in the United States some 20 years later, and the ‘American organ’, or melodeon, became the dominant type, at least in North America. The upright foot-pump reed organs were presented after 1860. This type normally had a swell knee lever for changing the volume level. In North America and the United Kingdom, a reed organ with pressure bellows was referred to as a harmonium, whereas in Europe, any reed organ was called a harmonium regardless of whether it had pressure or suction bellows.³

Besides these differences, reed organs also differ by the types and sizes associated with their destination. The following groups of instruments can be distinguished by this point of view:

- church organ (with transposing keyboard);

- domestic organ (upright – big or small);

- street/military organ (transportable).

All these instruments were produced between 1810 and 1950. Hand-held instruments (accordion, concertina, Russian bayan, etc.) live their own life, separate from the mentioned above groups of foot-pump reed organs; they will not receive consideration in this essay as candidates to the Red Book of disappearing keyboard instruments.

To understand the reason for the relatively brief though intensely popular existence of harmoniums, one might consider the changes in musical esthetics in 19th century Europe, the development of musical instruments—first of all, of the piano—and some other aspects.

Musical esthetics and keyboard instruments of the period

Whereas bow and wind instruments might gradually change their dynamics since early times, keyboards have retained two different principles for changing volume: regarding of touch (touch-response type) and regardless of touch: either (a) fixed dynamic levels – registering or (b) gradual volume changes adjusted by a lever or knob.

The main keyboards of the Baroque age—organ and harpsichord—were both of the fixed dynamic principle. The dynamic possibilities of wind and string instruments in the corresponding period were limited, and ‘imperfect’ keyboards might still supply a sufficient accompaniment. Esthetics of the period has still supposed terraced dynamics such as: tutti – solo, f – p, Grand clavier – Petite clavier. The micro-dynamics inside each level might be neglected by this point of view (although contemporary Baroque performers would hardly agree with this statement). The later development of the instruments themselves and appropriate musical esthetics already required the principle of touch response dynamics from keyboard instruments. The first one of that kind was a clavichord but its absolute dynamic level was so small that even ‘dramatic’ dynamic changes inside of its range (say, ppppp – pp by the contemporary scale) could be heard by only players themselves… The pianoforte—even in its earliest step—already had the touch-response principle as a built-in feature. The first reed organs, which worked on the pressure principle, can to a certain degree be comparable to the early square-piano but touch response of the latter was much more delicate and exact than the pedal-touch adjusted principle of orgue expressif. The later—suction—type of foot-pump harmonium, although having a swell knee lever for quick and gradual changing of the dynamic level, was not comparable even to the first upright pianos whose shape was designed as a unified form for both household keyboards. Whereas Venice fortepianos had a left knee lever for ‘piano’ stop (felt strips between hammers and strings), the use of the later pattern of the left pedal (una corda) was far from widespread. However, both Grand and upright pianos still have this ‘rudimentary’ stop. A right pedal—a sustain pedal—was, in opposition, revolutionary in a sound palette: no other keyboard instrument had this feature. First—divided—sustain handles in British square pianos were exotic stops but in a short time there were no pianos without knee levers or foot pedals for this exclusively important feature of the new generation of keyboard instruments.

Target with no destination

Upright keyboards of that period—both reed organs and pianos—were often produced by the same manufacturers and even looked alike. Cheaper, lighter and requiring less maintenance than pianos, reed organs were shipped overseas to support missionary efforts. Reed organs were preferable to pianos in tropical climates and regions of the world with poor transport infrastructure because they kept their tune regardless of temperature or humidity. Nevertheless, reed organs of the period 1870–1910 had less individuality of sound than pianos or pipe organs, and, thus, were not favored by professional musicians.

In general, reed organs served three branches of musical life: domestic, public (including new forms of entertainment such as cinema) and sacred (missionary work in remote regions⁴). Jewish cantorate⁵ used harmoniums for early studio recordings.⁶

One might notice a junction of the two tendencies in Western music of the 19th century: esthetics of the musical Romanticism—stormy expression, delicate nuances and gradually changed dynamics—against a new stream of musical entertainment where one could neglect the individuality and quality of sound. Neither of those tendencies, however, gave a regarded place to harmoniums. Despite their popularity, there was no interest from composers to write for such an ‘unattractive’ instrument. A Small Mass by Rossini written for soloists, choir and three keyboards—two pianos and a harmonium—is a rare exception.

Missionary activity had been substantially reduced by the 1940s. The advent of new forms of music-making and entertainment such as the player piano (1901) and later the gramophone and radio led to a decline in the reed organ's popularity. By the 1930s the larger builders switched to dealing exclusively in pianos or gramophones. Finally, reed organs became virtually obsolete by the mid-20th century when electronic substitutes became commercially available. The last reed organs were built in the 1950s…

Really last?

Epilogue

During the 19th century, the British army and missionaries took reed organs—both ‘military’ and ‘missionary’—to India. Hindus accepted this instrument and quickly adapted it to local music and even a form of sitting: the Hindu harmonium is the melodic instrument for playing with one hand while sitting on the floor. The player's other hand pumps air with a handle-pump. The bourdon stop (for supplying the sustained bass) is an obligatory accessory of this instrument. Instruments of this kind are still in production. Another country that recently started building a ‘regular’ type of foot-pump harmonium is China, a country whose ancient instrument sheng—as we already told—was a predecessor of all reed organs, and whose contemporary generation of musicians-performers are of the most successful successors of classic European style. India and China. Countries of ancient cultures that know to adopt useful innovations.

I did not succeed in finding the reed organ from the photograph. The search for and around it, however, contributed to my knowledge about the instrument, five different members of whose family I have restored over recent years…

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<sup>1. In: Jakob Eisler, Norbert Naag, Sabine Holtz, Kultureller Wandel in Palästina im früher 20. Jahrhundert, Epfendorf, 2003, p. 150.↩

2. In: Jakob Eisler, Norbert Naag, Sabine Holtz, Kultureller Wandel in Palästina im früher 20. Jahrhundert, Epfendorf, 2003, p. 5.↩

3. Information in this paragraph is mostly based on encyclopedia Web-sources such as Britannica online and Canadian encyclopedia.↩

4. Organs were an important component of missionary activity in regions with non-European tune systems. Dalia Cohen’s PhD thesis (The Hymns Singing of the Christian Orthodox Arabs and the Greek Catholics in Israel, The Hebrew University of Jerusalem, 1967) as well as my recent research (Alexander Rosenblatt, Music of the Eucharist Mass at three Episcopal (Anglican) Churches in Israel, The Hebrew University of Jerusalem, 2009) show that the harmonic support of the organ helped to save European tunes with no changes, whereas unaccompanied singing supervised by local clergy led to substantial changes in hymn tunes towards the maqamat, a local tune system.↩

5. German Jews used church organs in Reform synagogues from the early 19th century until the 1930s. See, for example: Tina Frühauf, The Organ and its Music in German-Jewish Culture, Oxford, 2009.↩

6. The sound of harmonium as an accompanying instrument can be recognized on certain gramophone disks with voices of the great cantors, e.g., Gershon Sirota, Zabel Kwartin and Yossele Rosenblatt. As a descendant from cantor’s family, where disks of cantorial music were subject of collection, I remember that sound from my early childhood.↩</sup>