Digging my way out of cassette tapes and typescripts in order to make innumerable pilgrimages to the Xerox machine and the Post Office, there were several times when I asked myself how did all of this come about? Well, the immediate catalyst was an invitation to join the faculty of the European new music festival, the Internationales Musikinstitut Darmstadt, for the summer of 1982. I decided to take the opportunity to explore one other aspect of the oboe in Europe today -- its manufacture. London and Paris beckoned via the lures of my favorite patisseries and museums, not to mention a few days off. And I was caught up in a real challenge: could any one person succeed in interviewing the three major French oboe manufacturers -- Lorée, Marigaux, and Rigoutat--plus T. W. Howarth in London? Was the Grand Slam of European oboe makers within my -- or anyone else's -- reach? Arriving in Paris, I certainly didn't think so. I had only the vaguest of commitments yet, rather miraculously, each of the three French interviews took place. I was, frankly, astounded by all that Gallic cooperation. Then, a few days before the close of the Darmstadt Festival, the British train strike was settled; Howarth correspondence in hand, I headed for London.
In addition to interviewing Nigel Clark of T. W. Howarth, I had also hoped to meet Léon Goossens while in London. Before Mr. Goossens agreed to an interview, however, I foresaw a series of talks limited exclusively to oboe makers. One of the most fascinating aspects of the major European oboe makers today is the fact that the younger generation has taken over, and I was particularly interested in talking to each of them for this reason. Alain de Gourdon, director of F. Lorée, is thirty-three. Philip Rigoutat is twenty-three, Howarth's Nigel Clark is twenty-nine--having bought T. W. Howarth at the age of twenty. But with the inclusion of the two players--Léon Goossens at age eighty-five, and the late Fernand Gillet when he was ninety-five--my initial concept was modified rather dramatically to include an extraordinary range of ages and perspectives.
The interview with the late Mr. Gillet took place several years ago as part of my dissertation research. I was then searching for a player who could tell me about specific aspects of technique during the early years of the twentieth century, and surely no one in the U.S. was more qualified than Mr. Gillet. Realizing that the results of my Summer 1982 European sojourn might best be produced in a single volume, and that it would be appropriate in light of the Goossens interview to include an interview with a French oboist, I dug out the Gillet tapes and began transcribing.
Speaking with Mr. Gillet at the age of ninety-five was quite an experience--one which only increased my hopes to be able to talk to Léon Goossens someday. When Goossens' letter consenting to an interview reached me in Germany, I called Edwin Roxburgh, co-author with Goossens of The Oboe, and invited him to join us. I arranged to spend my first afternoon in London with Roxburgh at The Royal College of Music, firing question after question at the only person who could tell me what I wanted to know. Mr. Roxburgh's earlier conversations with Mr. Goossens on my behalf concerning the possibility of an interview, his willingness to answer my questions, and his assistance during the interview itself, deserve far more than my own meagre, albeit heartfelt, thanks. Without his efforts, I do not believe the interview could have taken place.
In the course of finishing this series, I realized that what seemed at first like a rather simple undertaking had turned into something a bit larger. And while I have paused to thank Mr. Roxburgh, there are several other individuals whose assistance also proved essential -- it is my pleasure to single them out. First, IDRS editor Dan Stolper. In addition to writing to Mr. Goossens to suggest an interview, he gave me -- as he has on numerous past occasions -- all possible support and encouragement, clearing the way for me to realize my ideas exactly as I had hoped to do. Mr. Robert Gilbert of Los Angeles was extremely helpful with editorial comments concerning the Rigoutat interview; it was he, in fact, who originally suggested that I talk with both the Howarth and Rigoutat firms. (His immortal words were, as I recall, "Go for it!") Mr. Robert de Gourdon was gracious enough to join his son and myself for a part of the Lorée interview; I was particularly pleased by his participation since the subject we discussed--his work with Tabuteau--was such a fascinating one. In the case of Marigaux, I was fortunate to have the editorial assistance and full cooperation of Mr. Howard Arrington, general sales manager of King Musical Instruments, the U.S. importer and distributor for Marigaux. While in London, I was taken to see the Howarth factory in Worthing by its two co-directors, John Pullen and Nigel Clark. I might also mention that later discussions with Michael Britton (who represented Howarth at the 1982 IDRS Conference) helped me gain a clearer understanding of the goals of the Howarth company. Each manufacturer, incidentally, read his interview in draft form, making comments, suggestions, and emendations. Finally, there were the ladies -- Mrs. Gillet and Mrs. Goossens, both of whom extended the warmest hospitality, helping to make these talks pleasant occasions for all. And, in all truth, they also contributed quite a few valuable facts and dates.
My visits to factories, lunches, interviews, beers, off-the-record chats, etc., with each manufacturer lasted anywhere from about three to eight hours. [1] Comparisons were, in my own mind, both inevitable and ongoing in fact, that was at least half the fun of it all. As a whole, the interviews seemed to point again and again to several major issues in oboe manufacture. Taking an apprehensive gulp -- and at the risk of generalizing -- I would like to make a few brief observations, as well as to discuss one or two areas of heated controversy in the oboe business.
I believe that very few players truly understand the concept of production. After attending machine school and making copies of eighteenth century oboes in an engineering machine shop, I, myself, still had a great deal to learn about production. Early wind instrument maker Friedrich von Huene once commented to me that the great advantage of production is that you have several people specially trained for each stage, and the result of their combined efforts can be superlative. [2] I'm not sure I believed him at the time. Was I still one of those who, according to Alain de Gourdon, really wanted to see a seventy year old man (wearing a beret, of course) leaning over a dusty old oboe? Yet tremendous achievements have been made in engineering standards because of the advantages of production. We players often envision a single individual making the entire instrument. Nonsense! This is a drastically inaccurate view of what is no more and no less than an assembly line, a Peugeot factory for oboes, so to speak. Walking into an oboe factory, we meet the last of a series of craftsmen -- the finisher. How many of us are familiar with the two Lorée factories outside Paris, or have had the opportunity to watch an oboe go through the stages of its production? Markets, importers, V.A.T., dealers, production, finance, materials--we think of these as anathema to a great oboe, but in truth they are all part of a great oboe.
My own perception of oboe manufacture is slightly unusual for two reasons. First, there is my experience in playing and making copies of early oboes. I learned quickly that a name meant very little--if I found a baroque oboe that played in tune and sounded great, I grabbed it. Period. Second, my European activities have put me in situations where virtually every kind of oboe was played. Manufacturers were in complete agreement that a player should not be devoted to one instrument maker by default. Their suggestion: try a Rigoutat, a Lorée, a Howarth, whatever, and then make a decision. There are marvelous oboes being produced by a number of people these days and, in the interest of encouraging superior manufacture of the very best possible oboes, we players should evaluate them as carefully and as fairly as we are able. It is wrong, in my opinion, that virtually no one in France plays Lorée. It is equally unfortunate that one manufacturer could comment on the American market without a moment's hesitation: "If this oboe were stamped Lorée, they'd all think it's the Second Coming." Such thinking obviously works against the highest standards of manufacture. If the English play Howarth, the French play Rigoutat, and the Americans play Lorée, all efforts at the kind of international give and take so necessary in a world as small as that of the oboe are nullified.
The most hotly contested issue -- one which surfaced with regularity -- is: does a great oboe maker have to be an oboe player? Alain de Gourdon and Nigel Clark are the first to admit that it is nearly impossible to make oboes, see customers, run factories, and also keep up one's playing. Philip Rigoutat, for instance, stopped playing the oboe when he began to make them. The fact is that only in the last step of production -- the tuning -- need an instrument be played. Until then, the dozen or so people who might work on any Marigaux or Lorée, for instance, need not be players. But tuning an oboe is an entirely different matter, since this last step of production is so important as well as so personal. This stage is perhaps best described by a maker of baroque oboes, Harry vas Dias:
I never play on just one reed to make an oboe. And I never tune an oboe in two hours and sell it. You can't do that because it's going to change. Finishing an oboe should really occur over several weeks. And that's why I want to try to keep my oboes longer, and spend more time with them, catching them while they're changing. [3]
Needless to say, such a commitment to the finishing stages of an oboe helps immeasurably to make a great oboe. From the player's point of view, very subtle adjustments can make all the difference in the world during the final steps of an oboe's manufacture; one must know an instrument backwards and forwards to make intelligent choices at that level. Here, I think, is where an active professional player should be involved, and this is where Howarth leads the way with Michael Britton -- the only professional oboist employed full-time by any of the oboe firms represented in this series. For great craftsmanship is certainly artistry and, in the case of the final adjustments for an oboe, frequently a collaborative venture between maker and player. This is, in fact, just how Philip Rigoutat describes it, explaining that the most important strides are made as a result of maker and player working together --that is the ultimate aim.
A word in passing about the French manufacturers. The most interesting aspect of Marigaux, Lorée, and Rigoutat is how different they are from each other in their thinking, size, and production. Each has quite different markets (Madame Rigoutat purrs contentedly that no one in France plays Lorée), and this provides some independence for the makers. Yet there's also quite a bit of curiosity, sprinkled with a healthy dose of competition. I was amazed that three manufacturers with such different ideas can be so successful -- each thoroughly convinced of his own modus operandi. It's really quite marvelous.
Nigel Clark commented, in the Howarth interview, on how different oboe players are as a breed. Yes, oboe players probably are different, but what becomes apparent from these conversations is that oboe makers are different, too. I thoroughly enjoyed talking to each of them; my only regret is that the project is finished. It was all so interesting, in fact, that I'd like to try it again in a few years. Of course, by then the younger generation may have become the older generation -- myself included; still, on balance, I'm willing to take the risk.
New York
December 1982
[1] Because of the length of several interviews the reader will, of course, see an edited version. In addition to omitting all off-the-record comments most manufacturers requested I delete critical comments made about their competitors. Or, as one oboe maker observed: "It's fairly shocking to see one's conversation in print." [return]
[2] Nora Post, "An Interview with Friedrich von Huene," The American Recorder 23/4 (Nov. 1982): 148. [return]
[3] Nora Post, "Harry vas Dias: Baroque Oboe Maker," The Double Reed 2/3 (Dec. 1980): 2. [return]