"Organ students have always been the orphans of the conservatory," says Sutherland (at right), a genial, nationally recognized organist who has headed Peabody's organ department since 1975. "We've been off laboring in our own vineyard."

For in just a few days the massive, carved wooden doors before him will be opened to reveal a beautifully restored North Hall. The hall's new centerpiece: a majestic, three-story-tall Holtkamp organ, its 3,000-plus pipes and intricate wood scrollwork a gleaming testament to modern craftsmanship. As the lights go down in the hall, and the lights on the organ go up, an audible sigh of appreciation will be heard from the audience. Sutherland will emerge from the shadows to smile and take his seat before the beautiful instrument. When the first notes of Max Reger's Introduction and Passacaglia in D Minor resonate grandly throughout the hall, Bob Sirota will turn around from where he is sitting in the front row, look back at the 150-member audience, and beam.

The conservatory has no freight elevator to the second floor, so Holtkamp's four workmen will have to heft each carton up Peabody's winding spiral staircase. The men will work from early morning until late night; they don't expect to finish unpacking the truck until after dark on Sunday.

The Holtkamp Organ Co. was the choice of donors Lyman and Nancy Woodson Spire, who pledged the money to have the organ built for Peabody. Sutherland, who has worked with the company on two organs in the past, says he couldn't have been happier about the Spires' choice.

Back in Cleveland, at the Holtkamp workshops, a team of 21 craftspeople collaborated to build the one-of-a-kind organ. It took them several months and an estimated 7,000 total people hours. At that pace, the company manages to turn out just six to 10 organs a year. That doesn't bother current president Christian Holtkamp, who, like his father, grandfather, and great-grandfather before him, says he is committed to eschewing the "cheapening" effects of mechanization and mass production.

At Holtkamp, this demanding and incredibly timeconsuming task falls to master voicer Michael Shofar, who has been at his craft for 41 years. Once Shofar learned the dimensions and acoustics of North Hall, he set to work giving each pipe the right voice. This is painstaking work that can be affected by a pipe's material (Holtkamp's pipes are made of zinc, mahogany, sugar pine, or a tin/lead alloy), and by the size and curve of the openings (known as the "mouth," "ear," and "toe") that Shofar carves in each pipe.

When Peabody's organ was completed and assembled at Holtkamp, Shofar tested to make sure that its chorus of voices sounded exactly as he had intended. And then, in mid-January, he made the trip to Baltimore to begin the final--and most important-- phase of voicing, as the long-awaited organ was reassembled in North Hall.

In the late 1920s, art exhibits became more sporadic as the conservatory began using the space for orchestra rehearsals, opera workshops, and receptions. When Sirota and others at Peabody learned of the Spires' pledge to fund an organ, North Hall emerged as the ideal setting for the new instrument. In terms of size, sound conditions, and architectural distinction, "it's an absolutely gorgeous space," Sirota told The Baltimore Sun last spring.

On this afternoon in early March, North Hall is nearly empty, save for the organ that fills the far wall. It is a stately instrument, 26 feet high and 23 feet wide, its wood columns and lintels all painted a creamy white. The final two or three long pipes still lie on the floor, awaiting their installation. The scene is a far cry from what it was six weeks ago, when boxes and cartons filled nearly every square inch of floor space. By working 12-hour days, seven days a week, Holtkamp's crew has managed to get the organ ready for its premiere weekend of recitals, slated for March 7.

Sutherland drops in on the duo late each afternoon, to talk with them and to listen to the results of their daily labors. Sometimes the organist will make a suggestion: "How about taking the edge off here," or, "Let's make this voice a little broader." Sutherland, whose artistic pedigree can be traced all the way back to J.S. Bach, first worked with Shofar back in 1965. He remains amazed at the voicer's remarkable ability to hear the subtlest variations in sound. "Mike Shofar is Holtkamp Organs," says Sutherland. "He's the one who draws all the sounds together."

Back out in the hallway, Sutherland talks with excitement about what the new organ will mean to Peabody. For one thing, it will make it much easier for him to recruit top organ students. In recent years the program has averaged about a dozen students; he expects to see that number increase. For another, it will broaden the musical experience of everyone at the conservatory. "It means that Peabody students will be able to hear the great organ works of Bach, right here," he says. Already, there are composition students at work on pieces for organ. And he's been approached by trumpet students and voice students, who've eagerly asked whether they'll be able to use the organ for ensemble recitals. His reply? An emphatic, "Of course!"

At a Sunday afternoon recital on March 8, North Hall was officially renamed Leith Symington Griswold Hall, in honor of the 82-year-old woman who studied piano at the preparatory and conservatory from 1926 to 1936. Her son, Benjamin H. Griswold IV, and his wife, Wendy, gave $2 million to Peabody to endow the hall and piano scholarships. Also on hand for the organ's premiere were organ makers Walter and Christian Holtkamp.

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