MEMORIES OF T. TERTIUS NOBLE

                  Frank A. McConnell, F.A.G.O.

                    Talk and Recital for the
                    Lancaster Chapter of the
                  American Guild of Organists
            St. James Episcopal Church, Lancaster, PA
                         March 13, 1989

It's time for our trip down memory lane.  But first: St. James is
happy to have you meeting here; I bid you welcome in the name of the
church.  At home I sometimes hear myself saying, "What did I ever do
to deserve this?"  Beatrice has a stock reply: "You did very little,
it is yours by grace."  This privilege to be your master of ceremonies
tonight is surely an example of Grace and I am blessed, indeed.

If Friar Tuck's was Prelude #1 it is now time for Prelude #2.  It
will, of course, be by Dr. Noble; it was written while he was still an
Englishman and the organist of York Minster.  It has a dignity and a
dramatic flair typical of much of Noble's work--born of the spacious
cathedral with its acoustical hangover of sounds.  Born, too, of
irrepressible energy.  Much like Rachmoninoff's Prelude in c# minor,
the audience appeal of this Toccata in f minor made it much in demand
for years.  I first heard it played at a post-Evensong recital in
St. Thomas by Andrew Tietjen.  Andrew had been a pupil of and
assistant to Dr. Noble.  At the time of his premature death by tragic
accident he was the organist of Old Trinity Church at Wall Street.
Now, back at St. Thomas, Andy is about to play this Toccata as the
opening number of a recital.  I am in a position to see him "getting
in shape".  Much to my surprise he stretches this way and that doing
calisthenics.  Something, certainly, worked for when he began to play
it was obvious that well-oxygenated blood was flowing.  Mine flowed,
too, vicariously, as he brought the piece to life brilliantly in that
beautiful edifice with near-perfect acoustics.  [Play Toccata in f
minor.]

Now it is time for the story to begin.  How easy it would be to
"rattle on" rattling off memory after memory.  Here are a few just for
instance: many churches in New York City listed Widor's Toccata from
the 5th Symphony, if not for organ solo, then for organ with
instruments, as the prelude or postlude at some service on Easter
Sunday.  Not so Dr. Noble; he insisted it be something other.  Another
memory concerns the prelude at St. Thomas which was always an
improvisation on the first hymn and always became quite quiet at the
close, presenting a note to be picked up by the clergy for the opening
recitation in the liturgy; the choir then responded and the
processional began.  I remember, too, those hymn tempos.  When I
started as assistant organist, fresh from a parish church in
Connecticut, I had to rethink the whole concept of tempi for hymn
tunes at St. Thomas.  In St. Thomas, with its great acoustics, and the
English cathedral tradition, tempos had always to be broad and
unhurried but with sure and steady pace.

Please indulge me for another of these tid-bits: I once suggested to
Dr. Noble that he do an all-Noble recital and was disappointed when he
ruled it out.  Although there were dozens of organ solos from his pen,
he felt they lacked the variety to constitute an interesting program.

At this point, in order to give some shape to this nostalgia we'll
stick to an outline: The Person, Teacher, Organist, Choirmaster,
Composer.

Our March newsletter provided a good introduction to Thomas Tertius
Noble, that is, to Thomas Noble the third.  He liked those initials
T.T.N. and often played with them, rearranging them into TNT which he
jokingly equated with his power-packed personality.

Thomas the third was born in Bath, England, on May 5, 1867, the
youngest in a family of nine children.  An older sister gave him some
early lessons at the piano.  When he was 10 he was sent to a boarding
school.  It offered nothing for the development of musical talent and
provoked him to strong protest.  Appeals to parents and teachers
finally won him permission to quit the place.  At about the same time
the rector of All Saints Church, Colchester, needed an organist and
invited Tommy to give it a try.  We have Dr. Noble's own account of
what happened.  His remarks are from an address he gave in 1943, the
year of his retirement from St. Thomas.  He was speaking at General
Theological Seminary, New York, at a dinner in his honor by the Hymn
Society of America.  Speaking of his incumbency at All Saints,
Colchester, he said, "I was almost 13, I could not play the organ very
well.  It was an awful, old organ.  It had four stops, and its
mechanism rattled so loudly you could hardly hear the music.  For
three years I worked there.  I got up at 6:30 summer and winter, and I
was in the church practicing by 7:00.  This was, of course, before
breakfast.  I studied under a good provincial organist from Ipswich.
Learning on this organ was difficult, but very good for me."

The Royal College of Music in London was next.  His teachers there
numbered such giants as: Sir Walter Parratt, Sir Charles Villiers
Stanford, and Sir John Frederick Bridge.  Graduation from the Royal
College came in 1889 at which time he was put on the teaching staff.
(Take notice that was exactly 100 years ago to the digit.  He was 22.)
Soon after graduation he was appointed assistant to Sir Charles
Stanford at Trinity College, Cambridge.  At age 25 he was appointed
organist at Ely Cathedral.  (A now 25-year-old cathedral organist was
most unusual, if not unheard of.)  About Ely Dr. Noble had this to say
in the address from which we are quoting, "I went to Ely Cathedral
where I stayed five years.  I had the good fortune to marry the
daughter of Dean Stubbs."  I break the quote again, to comment that
Mrs. Noble always impressed me as the perfect wife for such an
ambitious husband.  Self-effacing and obviously devoted.  In
appearance Barbara Bush reminds me a bit of Merrial.  The Nobles had
one child, a son, Philip Raymond who became a lecturer and
photographer par excellence, doing what were advertised as "in-depth
travelogues".

Quoting again, "One wonderful wedding present was a letter from the
Dean of York Minster containing my appointment as organist-choirmaster
there.  For 15 years, from 1898 to 1913, I had that great church to
work in."  Grove's Dictionary tells us that while at York Dr. Noble
founded the York Symphony Orchestra, became conductor of the York
Musical Society, and was made an honorary Fellow of the Royal College
of Organists.  Quoting again, "At York I began to write my first seven
unaccompanied anthems, including Souls of the Righteous and Go to Dark
Gethesemane."  Concluding his address Dr. Noble said, "These last 30
years in *New* York have been full of rich experiences and our
decision to come here from *Old* York has never been regretted.  The
strain on a cathedral organist is enormous.  I had been responsible
for 14 services a week for 20 years....This was the time to change,
though the canons at York could not see why I should exchange the
Minster for just a parish church."  Closing this valedictory, he
added, "We have had an extraordinarily happy time here in America at
the magnificent church of St. Thomas, with its glorious organ (a
tribute to the genius of E. M. Skinner), with the choir school so
lavishly fostered by the late Charles Steele, with sympathetic and
understanding rectors, and with a host of true friends, including
pupils and former choirboys."  End of quote.  I yield to temptation
here to note that from my own observations the rector in the 1930's
and 40's was not always understanding and sympathetic.  Unfortunately,
there was a sexton-funeral director (the job was double-barreled).
His name was Francis Connell, he was also known as Frank Connell--too
close to my own nomenclature to be ignored, though there were never
any serious mix-ups because of that.  The problem was that the sexton
had a powerful "in" with the rector and used it to undercut the music
program whenever it pleased him to do so.  He would, for instance,
order that heat in the church be turned off even before the close of
Evensong (heat was purchased from the city and turned on or off with a
valve).  The building cooled quickly on a winter's day and people who
came to the post-Evensong organ recital grew uncomfortable--moreover,
the organ started to change pitch rather frightfully.  The sexton also
referred to such staple fare as the "Brahms Requiem" with sneering
disrespect.  I recall vividly his sneering mimicry of a phrase "for
Christ's sake" from Dr. Noble's anthem "Grieve Not the Holy Spirit".
These attitudes (many other instances could be cited) were definitely
not a plus for the music program but seemed to titillate the rector.

Now some thoughts of Dr. Noble as a teacher.  His resignation from
St. Thomas' was in 1943 when he was 76 years old.  I had become his
pupil ten years earlier.  Imagine with what awe I presented myself to
him.  He 66 and famous, I 19 and extremely raw.  His office was in
St. Thomas just off the 53rd Street entrance.  I didn't know then that
this low-ceilinged room, an altogether adequate office, had been the
reason for William Macfarlane to resign as organist.  Macfarlane quit
in protest when required to use it as the choir rehearsal room.  He
deemed it impossible and stultifying.  Of course, it was his
resignation that paved the way for Dr. Noble's appointment.  Remember
that the big bait for Dr. Noble had been the promise by Charles Steele
to provide and endow a choir school.  I remember that, in the 30's a
proper rehearsal room for the full choir at the church, was added
after careful designing and some excavating.  At any rate, it was
there in that splendid office that I met Dr. Noble for the first time.
He was a man of sturdy but smallish build with abundant energy and
great composure.  I felt, "Here is the genuine article, what a
privilege!"  In spite of his smallish size, his hands were open and
well proportioned, they could span large clusters on the keyboard.
This span and flexibility, I am sure, influenced his composition which
so often requires the player to move in octaves with complicated inner
parts.  It was obvious that a bright mind was set in that attractive
body.  It all added up to a truly winsome personality.  Every inch a
gentleman: friendly, helpful, modest, confident, courageous.  The
living of every moment seemed important to him; pettiness was out of
the question.

Although I did not know it for several years he was plagued by
glaucoma which had been improperly diagnosed and untreated for years.
It was not the painful sort but it took its toll and before his death
in 1953 it had rendered him blind.

At my very first lesson he spoke of the A.G.O. examinations urging me
to work toward the Associate certificate.  The ease with which he
detected forbidden parallel fifths and other musical shortcomings in
my writing of Strict Counterpoint and harmony was shocking, but,
little by little, I learned to do better.  His obvious personal
interest in a pupil's progress was stimulating week after week.  As an
organ teacher he was far from regimental.  There was no prescribed
system or sequence of literature to be studied.  He taught little from
pre-Bach literature.  The Chorale Preludes, Preludes and Fugues,
Sonatas and Concertos of Bach were priorities.  Other German composers
included: Mendelssohn, Rheinberger, Reger, Reubke and many others.  He
had played Bach, Rheinberger and Reubke in recitals on the continent,
Canada, and the United States in younger days on concert tours.  He
was also glad to teach from the French School of the Franck, Widor,
Vierne and Dupre vintage.  You could bring Alain, Durufle and Messiaen
for lessons, too, as well as others, but I sensed his interest was
keenest in works of the earlier vintage.  I recall that editions of
Widor's Symphonies used to carry the words "Soar Above".  Dr. Noble
had to smile at those words when they were applied to movements which
he found to be pedantically contrived and wooden.  Of course he taught
works from many other countries and composers as he sought to instill
a knowledge of different styles, of how to register appropriately, a
knowledge of how to enhance the life of phrases, and so on.

When I knew him best, and he was in his 70s then, he did not practice
except on extraordinary occasions when he wanted to honor some
specific request that was long-forgotten.  By that time his "practice"
was hardly what we would consider worthy of the name.  It was more
like a "run-through".  In this regard I am reminded of a recital I
heard him play for which he had programmed his own Chorale Prelude on
"St. Kilda", an English Hymn-tune.  Having studied "St. Kilda" I was
eager to hear him play it.  To my great surprise what I heard was
after the same style but definitely not the piece I had learned.  It
turned out that just before the recital Dr. Noble had gone to his
music cabinet to pull out the pieces on the program.  St. Kilda wasn't
there.  Andy Tietjen, of whom we spoke earlier, had borrowed it not
realizing it was needed, so Dr. Noble had substituted an
improvisation.  This tale is to make the point that in those days of
his maturity Dr. Noble did not find it necessary to practice before a
recital.  Tonight I happen to have a copy of St. Kilda--would you like
to hear it?  Will you agree that it is music for a spacious room and a
high occasion?  It was written in 1926 at his beloved summer home in
Rockport, Mass.  [The piece was played by Mr. McConnell or possibly
his student Mollie Weaver.]

To me, Dr. Noble's playing, whether from a score or improvisational,
was always an expression of the whole person.  I could almost "see"
the music working within him even as his well-formed technical
facility was bringing it to life.  There seemed always to be just the
right energy in the rhythms.  And his control of the phrasings and
masterful projection of the structure was appropriate to the whole.
To me, at least, he was "creating anew" for the occasion.  I think I
shall always remember the glory of Bach's Prelude and Fugue in b minor
as he played it--the marvelous arabesques of the Prelude moving
inexorably to ever fresh cadences and the power of the wonderful Fugue
which Parratt had dubbed "Building the Cathedral".

I was never able to explain to myself how he achieved such glorious
results as choirmaster.  There were daily rehearsals with the boys at
the choir school.  At the appointed hour for practice the boys would
be ushered into the rehearsal area under the supervision of
schoolmasters.  When Dr. Noble appeared they would stand in an alert
and respectful manner.  At his signal they would sit and, almost like
a ritual, he would remove his suit-coat placing it over an extra
chair.  The rehearsal would proceed.  Usually a few warm-up exercises
with the boys standing.  If he offered suggestions to correct a fault
they were brief and to the point.  He was not a singer.  Yet when he
put his hand to cover his nose and sang a syllable--the boys responded
with glorious tones.  After exercises came the service music.  He
expected excellence and got it.  I came to the conclusion that there
was a powerful chemistry operating during the rehearsals and at
services.  That it was this chemistry which generated a superior
effort and quality of music.

G. Schirmer coaxed Dr. Noble to write a pamphlet on "The Training of
the Boy Chorister", revealing his methods so that others might
emulate.  The 24 page booklet was disappointing to me.  It would be to
you.  It contains no magic or secret formulae to account for the
inspired singing of his boys.  The "magic" I am convinced was in the
choirmaster's consummate mastery of choral techniques as well as of
basic music.  Perhaps even more the "magic" was in his ability to
impress all with his genuine friendship and respect for them (this
love and respect were mutual; surely the magic was also) and in his
ability to inspire concentrated effort and a strong desire to give
their best.  It should be noted that adults of both sexes responded to
his direction with equally inspiring results.  He demanded full,
wholesome expression for the delivery of the great texts of the
faith.  To participate under his direction was a vibrant experience to
be cherished.

The Episcopal Hymnal 1940 contained seven hymn tunes by Dr. Noble.
Five were original, from scratch, two were reharmonizations of
existing hymns.  The 1982 Hymnal, now in our pews, includes only two
hymn tunes; "Come, Labor On" at number 541 and a harmonization of
"Fairest Lord Jesus" with flowing rather than static parts.  At one
time he wrote, "I am a great believer in tunes that are wholesome and
masculine."  Today he wouldn't get away with that; he would probably
say, "I am a great believer in tunes that are substantially built and
move their singers to healthy and wholesome expression, to the glory
of God and the edification of all."  He never ceased crying out
against the trashy and superficial, or the dry and sterile.  From
seven tunes to two tunes in one new edition of the Hymnal--does this
say something?  He was on the committee for the 1940 book and he was
dead long before the 1982 book.  Yet, one does wonder how long his
legacy of compositions will be used.  They have power, beauty and
popular appeal.  And they have this generously enough to be vehicles
of lively utterance today.  Yet, as Eric Routley might say, "They
blaze no new trails; they show no dissent from an idiom which could,
conceivably, be superseded."  His compositions also include dozens of
original anthems, much service music such as canticles: Te Deum,
Jubilate Deo, Benedictus es Domine, etc.  And service music such as
Kyrie, Gloria in Excelsis, Credo, Sanctus and Agnus Dei for the
communion.

In the early 1930's he wrote an Introduction and Passacaglia for the
New York Philharmonic Orchestra.  It was played several times under
the baton of John Barbirolli.  Dr. Noble later transcribed it for
organ solo.  The Introduction is not long and is definitely orchestral
in its colorings.  May I play it?

We must conclude, soon, but first one more story:

Dr. Noble geared his vacation to the Choir School schedule, so when
the boys went home in mid-June he departed for his summer-place in
Rockport, Mass.  At his insistence I visited him there during the
mid-week each year since my responsibilities at that time of the year
were all on week-ends.  His beautiful summer home was in a prime
location on Cape Ann.  It was on a cliff above the water.  He liked to
think he could look from his place across the water to England.  Each
night he and Mrs. Noble and, sometimes, Phil, would walk across a
field to the restaurant for dinner.  Later, at home, we would sit in
the living room and visit.  Dr. Noble had written an organ piece and
inscribed it to me.  Its title "Legend" and its mood quite nostalgic.
I think it tells rather a poignant story.  Phil was in a pixieish mood
one evening and ribbed his dad about this piece.  He found the music
too sequential, and making far too much use of a triplet figure.  He
named some Wagnerian scene of which it reminded him.  He also ribbed
his dad about editing a Bach Prelude and Fugue recently, accusing him
of rubbing elbows with the great to his own advantage.  To my relief
Dr. Noble accepted Phil's ribbing with good grace.  No tension
resulted.

"Legend" had been completed in time for me to prepare it and play it
from manuscript during a post-Christmas convention of the Guild in New
York.  It was used to demonstrate the organ to the visitors.  About a
month after that I moved to Lancaster bringing some of all that
along.  I did learn to move the hymns a bit more here.  My tale is
told.  Thank you for listening.