Not melodeon news - yet - but another, very different box I got for Christmas, courtesy of Jim: an original Volvo collapsible shopping box. Apparently they came as standard with the 260. It's very clever, because you can open half of it, or all of it, and when it's folded, it clips together, and when it's open, you can carry it by the middle handle with one hand.
Here it is in the boot of my 240 being used to take stuff to the boat.
And here are the new tins, along with the old ones, on the newly refurbished shelf above the table cupboard. There is now a fiddle along the bottom to stop things falling off, and a trim along the top to make it neat and pretty.
The Brasso tin contains Brasso. The red tea caddy on the right contains clothes pegs (and once gor dropped in the Chesterfield canal and retrieved with a magnet). The Ambrosia milk tin contains spare mantles and other Tilley lamp accoutrements. The tea caddy in the middle, with the Chinese style design, contains sewing stuff, small nails and picture hooks. There's another milk tin at the back with spare toothpaste and brushes in, and the Brown and Poulsen cornflour tin holds pens and scissors. So nearly all of them are use as well as ornament. Elsewhere, there is a tobacco tin (Lloyds Skipper Brand) with all sorts of things including best old brass screws, ballbearings and Blu-Tack, but I couldn't fit that on the shelf.
Whilst in the back cabin at the weekend, I peeled the sticky backed plastic off the newly refitted table cupboard. It had been slightly damaged, but worse, had shrunk away from the edges leaving a dirty sticky border all the way round - a shame, because I liked the fifties effect. It came off very cleanly though, without damaging the paint, and I cleaned round the edges with white spirit. I probably won't replace it as it would only shrink again. I think I still have just about enough left over though to cover the new section of shelf inside the table cupboard.
I wasn't going to select my next random destination until after I'd written the very last Saltaire post. However, in was in the pub on Tuesday (the very good Rutland Arms, even if they do have rather a posey website) with a couple of friends, and I was explaining the Big Days Out concept, in the course of which I showed them how I set Random.org to choose a number between 101 and 186 for me. It then would have seemed churlish not to ask one of them to hit the button to determine the next port of call, which I then cross referenced with the Town Class Sticker Album.
And oh dear. If Saltaire was a really lucky first pick, this one's going to be a lot harder. Until I looked it up I had only the vaguest idea of where it is (other than a long way away). It's a small place, and doesn't seem to be famous for anything, unless you count golf, which is not something I can get passionate about. I guess I may have to learn, as that is, in part at least, what the Big Day Out is all about. The station could be interesting, as it might (according to Wikipedia) be the oldest in the country. It's going to take me around five and a quarter hours to get there (but only one change; Sheffield's a handy place to start, being on the Cross Country route) and will cost me £120. So I could get there and back in a day and still have about five hours to explore...
It may be a while before I get round to this one though, as there's a bit of boating to do first...
For each Big Day Out I shall create one final post with links to all the others, which will then be listed in the widget to the right.
My Saltaire sortie will probably turn out to be one of the cheaper ones, coming out under fifty pounds in total, made up as follows:
Off-peak day return train fare from Sheffield: £12.50
Shipley Glen Tramway day ticket £2
Tramway history book £2
Ice cream £1.80
First ice cream of the year
Concert ticket £10
Concert tea and cake £3.50
Raffle tickets (non-winning) £1
Dinner and drinks (approx) £16
I got a Cross Country service from Sheffield to Leeds, and Northern from there to Saltaire. On the way back I should have caught the train at Shipley, but missed it, so David kindly gave me a lift to Bradford to pick one up there. The outward journey took just over an hour.
Saltaire's Victoria Hall was opened in 1871 as the Saltaire Institute. Work had begun on building it four years previously, and the cost was £25,000.
The outside is stunning, and the interior is beautifully restored and maintained.
But I wasn't there for the architecture - at least not primarily. I was there for this:
And so were these people, who started gathering well in advance of the two o'clock advertised 'doors open' time.
I have to say that the policy of admitting under-25s for free is unlikely to bankrupt the Cinema Organ Society any time soon. Indeed, they could raise it to fifty with no discernable effect on their revenue. Which is both a shame, and an inexplicable one. I mean, you can understand the cinema organ being more popular with people who remember it from their youth, but for it to have no traction at all not only with teenagers, but even with middle aged people like I must now be... Maybe it's since Radio 2 moved The Organist Entertains (my introduction to the genre) to its 11 pm graveyard slot some years ago.
David also made an interesting point - that children of his generation (which was just about one before mine) were privileged in having a contstant stream and variety of good quality music piped via the wireless into their homes as they grew up, when the Light Programme (later to become Radio 2) broadcast live performances of a range of different musical genres. (They also got all the National Health orange juice of course, sweet rationing, and real food, whereas my generation was raised on Findus Crispy Pancakes and Angel Delight.)
Anyway, back to the Victoria Hall and Nicholas Martin. For the first half I sat three rows back from the front , having first collected my cup of tea and slice of buttered Yorkshire teabread and chatted to a couple of other audience members - one of whom (rightly) confided to me in an awed whisper that I was 'in for a treat.' I also got to eavesdrop on the men behind me talking arcanely (I wrote this down): '...it's wired and winded and on the stop rail...'. I think they might have been talking about the new krumet. One of these same men caught up with me afterwards and showed me photos of the 3/4 size replica Wurlitzer console he'd built in his bedroom.
I'm actually not going to try to describe the concert, because it's impossible to convey... but one thought I had towards the end was that this is music to wallow in - not emotionally, but literally, aurally. The choice of tunes hardly matters. A nice touch, that worked really well - and also indicates that the audience was largely made up of cognoscenti - was that there were cameras trained on the organist's hands and feet, displayed on a screen to the right.
The console at Saltaire is on a hydraulic lift so that it can do the classic thing of rising up from the stage, already being played. It also of course went back the same way at the end, leading to the rather surreal scene of the MC looking down a hole saying 'Will you be doing an encore, Nick?'
In the interval I was taken down the back stairs by David and shown the organ chamber with its ranks of pipes and other things I'm afraid I can't even remember the names of (at least, not in relation to the right things). What I do remember is that it costs a thousand pounds a year just keeping it at the right temperature so that stays in tune. I snapped a few hurried photos but they really don't do it justice.
David was concerned that I might be being too blasted away by the sound to fully appreciate it from where I was sitting, so for the second half I repaired to the balcony. I must confess that my ears were not sufficiently sensitive or well trained to appreciate the difference, but it was good to have the change of scene and sample the lovely old worn red plush tip-up seats, and look down on the hall.
Looking down from the balcony in the interval
I do apologise for the poor quality snatched photos. The internet can furnish you with many much better ones.
This was of course a fabulous way to round off my first Big Day Out - which wasn't quite finished, as I then went and had tea (dinner to those of you still down south) with David who shared fascinating stories from his playing career before dashing off to catch my train back to Sheffield (and missing it, but all was right in the end).
Massive thanks to David Lowe for making it such a brilliant day.
(This post has been written to the accompaniment of The Organist Entertains via the magic of iPlayer.)
A terrible photo, but mine own. Many better ones are on the COS website (link below)
You probably wondered where I was going with that flight of fancy. Of course I was leading up to the high point of my trip to Saltaire: the organ concert. Saltaire's Victoria Hall has, since 2009 been home to the Wurlitzer cinema organ first installed in Oldham's Gaumont cinema in 1937 (that most significant of years) and owned, since the cinema's closure in 1961, by the Cinema Organ Society, who found it a number of different - and more or less successful - foster homes over the years. All the details, and some super photos of it in its original home, are on their website here.
I was extremely fortunate in that fellow historic boater David Lowe (Swallow and Apollo) is also a cinema organist, leading light of the Cinema Organ Society, and currently tuner of the Saltaire Wurlitzer. David wasn't playing the concert this month (although he is doing the April one) so in between operating the spotlight and checking on the organ, was able to give me a tour of its hidden workings in the interval. I am going to squeeze one more post out of this, so I'll say more about that next time :-)
In the meantime, here is a potted history of the cinema organ that David very kindly sent me when I first revealed my both unformed and uninformed fascination with this most extraordinary of instruments:
The great town hall organs became very orchestrally biased with many
imitative stops. Eccentric English organist and organ builder Robert
Hope-Jones took the idea further at the turn of the last century with his
organs which also had electric action (so the console could be detached from
the organ itself), and even more percussions and effects. He also
advocated the unit system where one rank of pipes serves many purposes so a
smaller number of pipes gives greater versatility. His ideas were not
well received in the UK so he emigrated to the USA and after some false starts
ended up in partnership with the Wurlitzer company – a well established
builder of high quality musical instruments. Although intended for
ballrooms, skating rinks, bars, hotels, town halls, residences, etc., an early
Wurlitzer was installed in an early cinema in Chicago in 1910 and this was so
successful that most Wurlitzer organs were installed in cinemas
thereafter. Though not designed (as some claim) to accompany
silent films the Wurlitzer (and other similar makes) were ideal for the
purpose, far better than the church or concert type pipe organs (or
harmoniums or automatic instruments, or a pianist; and cheaper than an
orchestra). With the coming of talkies only the larger USA cinemas
continued using the organs, but in the UK most unit type cinema organs were
installed after the coming of talkies (i.e. post 1929),
providing interval music, organ interludes etc., though it maybe that some
accompanied silent films in the early 30s. Another important use was
for radio broadcasting. Three Wurlitzer organs were installed in
ballrooms in Blackpool (one post-World War 2). Cinema organ use declined for a
number of reasons; post 1948 cinema audiences were falling off and many
full time organists were dispensed with (but ABC Cinemas carried on with a
reduced number), and some continued part time. In the 1960s there was a
bit of a revival until removal of organs began in earnest as cinemas closed or
were twinned etc. In the USA the revival was prompted by the early 1950
s ‘hi-fi’ stereo LP records by organists such as George Wright, and by the
late 1950s and 60s organs were being re-installed in pizza restaurants, public
halls and private residences or restored in situ – similar over here but
not, regrettably, the restaurants – not sure why. The Blackpool Tower ballroom Wurlitzer carried on but with the massive
decline in ballroom dancing (now only for aficionados rather than the general
public) its use is very much less and numbers on the dance floor very