May 2008
A Nineteenth Century Organ in Pomerania	Show Menu

By Judy Cameron

Far to the North on the Baltic coast of Germany there is the small town of Barth, a very ancient settlement dominated by an enormous brick church, the St Marien Kirche. Nesting falcons wheel about a spire visible for miles across perfectly flat land; a beacon also for returning fishermen. At the west end soars a huge organ, built by Johann and Carl August Buchholz, father and son, in the early nineteenth century. It was constructed in their workshop in Berlin, and then shipped by barge to Stettin on the coast, and finally, by sea to Barth. According to the documents, the builders were thankful for fair winds which meant a voyage without damage.

On the day of completion, Carl August wrote on the back of the case: C. A. Buchholz, 31 August, 1821; May your days be very many, May you bring delight to many peoples' ears. May you lament with those who grieve. And may you sound in tune with the holy choir! (PS It rhymes in German!)

At that time it was a two-manual organ, with 42 stops, and the instrument gained an outstanding reputation for its tonal beauty. A third manual was planned and ordered from the same firm in 1863, but was not actually installed until thirty years later, in 1896. This added a further eight stops. While it has been maintained and refurbished over the intervening years, a state of benign neglect caused by lack of funds and the remoteness of the community, has ensured that it is the only organ by this once prolific organ builder to survive in Germany. The front case pipes were requisitioned by the government in WW1 (one dares not speculate for what use) and replaced in 1937.

Sixty years ago Barth was home to some 9000 American and Commonwealth airmen in an immense POW camp run by the Luftwaffe. In 1943, the German camp Kommandant was a talented musician, who played piano, violin, viola and cello. A humane man, he attempted to run a civilised camp, preserving the decencies in a hostile and spartan environment. He gathered round him like-minded officers and the local pastor to create a chamber music group. He also instituted gramophone record concerts in the German Officers' Mess. A Doctor Gunther, besides playing piano, trumpet and harpsichord, was an organist and was given permission to practise on the Buchholz organ in the town.

My father, Martin, was a medical officer with the British forces in the war. Taken prisoner in 1940 after a mere three weeks in action, he spent the rest of the war in various prison camps. In January 1943, he was sent to Barth to take charge of the sick and wounded in the camp there. There began a fruitful friendship between the two doctors, At first, Martin was quite cynical about exploiting the generosity of the German officer, as the medical facilities for the prisoners were almost non-existent, but Gunther was able to help to supply and equip Martin's little hospital. However, cynicism gave way to common interests in many matters— languages, travel, history, and not least music.

Martin had no pretensions as a musician. He made valiant attempts to learn the violin from a Serbian tutor whose only words of English were “higher” and “lower.” Lessons were carried on, often in the freezing cold, with a great deal of vigourous pantomime. Practising in the minimally heated barrack rooms was out of the question because the earnest musician was inclined to have boots thrown at him. However, in spite of his lack of talent, , Martin was an enthusiastic customer for all things musical. Soon he was invited to the German officers' mess to hear the record concerts. He would be escorted through the locked gates by a friendly guard (carefully chosen because he was also a music lover) and then delivered quietly back to his quarters. The programmes were always relentlessly Germanic. The first concert consisted of Beethoven, Brahms and Hindemith; another included Bruckner No 5, on eleven records. Martin once commandeered records of Rhapsody in Blue and Elgar's Enigma Variations to represent the Allies, and forced the officers to listen to them, which they did, being too polite to refuse!

Medical officers had a good deal of privilege and at a previous camp, Martin had been sent out (with a guard, of course) to music sellers to purchase scores for the camp orchestra. He thoroughly enjoyed this freedom and was very interested to find that Mendelssohn's music was considered degenerate and was therefore unavailable.

In Barth, the unlikely friendship between the two men flourished. Gunther became engaged and then married, and Martin was able to meet his wife. Together they walked into the town to hear Gunther play the organ and Martin charmed her by giving her chocolate from his home parcels. Now in her eighties, she has never forgotten this.

Inevitably this good time came to an end. As the tide of war turned away from Germany, attitudes hardened against the prisoners and it became increasingly difficult for the authorities to sustain friendly relations with an enemy whose colleagues were annihilating whole towns. The Kommandant was removed; Gunther and several other officers were removed; a much harsher regime was imposed, and camp conditions became increasingly tough. Shot-down American flyers arrived in droves, and Martin was too busy even to play his simplified parts in the prisoners' orchestra. For the next two years, neither man knew what had become of the other. With the greatest good fortune, they both survived and were able to make contact once more in peacetime.

In 2005, I travelled to Barth in the company of Gunther's son, and we listened to Buchholz’ organ resounding to Bach and great sonorous Lutheran hymns. The organ has been restored recently at enormous cost, with new front case pipes to replace the inferior ones of 1937 and repairs to the wooden ones damaged by 'Holzwurme' (guess!) There are CDs for sale, which showcase the organ in grand style. I was glad to buy them as a small thanksgiving for the friendship which lightened those dark days of the 1940s and for music which brought the comforting illusion of normality to two young men at war. The Buchholz organ does indeed bring hope to the heart, and its days have been long in the land.

Judy Cameron is organist of St Patrick’s Church, Enniskerry, Co. Dublin and is a member of the Church Music Committee.

cameronl@eircom.net

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