Fraternal Organ Playing, Part I

Until fairly recent times (i.e., before radio, television, internet, computer generated motion pictures, etc.) the making of music together was probably the chief way in which people, especially families and other congenial groups, entertained themselves ... there wasn't any other way.
Music as a supplement to public worship also has a very long and glorious history.
So it should not be surprising that, early in the history of fraternal organizations, live music assumed a prominent role in holding meetings and conferring the work.
The right kind of music adds to the sight and sounds of the experience.

It could make a tremendous difference in what kind of impression the work creates among the members and new candidates.
The organist, of course, must be a fraternal member to work in the organization, and the number of organists who hold such memberships has fallen off even more than the general population, since there weren't legions of them to begin with.
Also, many of the old pipe organs which were once installed in lodge rooms or auditoriums, not being used much, have not been maintained and are thus deteriorated, leading to their falling silent or, even worse, being discarded altogether and not replaced because of the cost.
These old, historic instruments, even when they're small, need to be retained and maintained in a fully playable condition for many important reasons, especially this one:

Good pipe organs will attract and inspire good organists.

That being said, it is no exaggeration to say that the organist's presence or non-attendance at an important fraternal meeting or conferral, especially when distinguished guests are present or the work is particularly dramatic, will make or break the event.

When the Directors set up the degree teams in advance, every speaking and non-speaking part is listed and paired with the name of someone who has previously studied and memorized the work sufficiently to not have to read it out of the book to the candidate(s) ... all except, that is, for the organist who, sadly, is all too often not even included at the bottom of the Director's list as a cast member.

When the musician(s) are always the very last appointed officer(s) to be installed during an official installation, the installing officer assigns importance and responsibility to the job, the newly installed musician is conducted to his station, and for the next 12 months what was said at the installtion is forgotten.

The organist in the organization therefore holds the most thankless job there is.

If this failure of recognition stopped there it would be calamity enough, but there is more ...

The Director of Work desperately looking for an organist will very often offer the would-be volunteer the following nine words:

"All you have to do is play incidental music."

Presuming this remark succeeds in convincing the member to make himself willing and able to play, before long it becomes abundantly clear to that volunteer that what he was led to believe and reality aren't lining up.

The term "incidental music" (defined as "parenthetical," or "in passing") means different things to different people.

This term generally applies to quiet, background playing when officers, distinguished guests, or cast members are entering or exiting the room, moving from station to station, when prayer is offered, when the Volume of Sacred Law is opened or closed, or at appropriate places in the ritual when conferring the work.

When it comes time however for the instrument to lead the singing of the National Anthem, Opening Song,  Closing Ode, accompany a vocalist during a Necrology Service midway through the  meeting, or perform anything else that isn't "incidental," these tasks can come as a surprise if not shock to the player when the same are actually a staple part of the job.

Additionally, a well-meaning remark like this can send the message that nothing special or distinctive is ever expected of the playing.

This not only leaves the volunteer with little if any incentive to strive to a higher level of attainment but it reflects an oversimplification and lack of comprehension/appreciation of what the organist does.

Of course, the proper response to all of this is to forgive them, pray for them, and move on.

Live incidental organ music can be 1) improvised on the spot, 2) lifted from hymn books, the repertoire, or other written sources, OR 3) be a blend of both.

In too many cases the new volunteer has no clue where to begin improvising. thus, before the first note is performed in rehearsal some advance reflection, digging through written sources, and trial-and-error practice is an absolute necessity to settle upon usable material so that nothing is left to chance -- and then to get it practiced to where it's in tight motor memory and can be performed with assurance when our eyes must leave the page to watch the cast.

No other cast members tasked with memorizing parts are obligated to spend that same kind of time planning and researching their material.

When we watch and listen to someone who's been providing the organization with exactly what it needs for a great many years in a row, that man makes it look easy.

A widely held fiction has grown out of that -- that all the organist does is walk in, take his place on the bench, turn the instrument on, place his hands on the keys, and, by some divine process from above, a stream of inspired sound will emerge from the instrument without any real planning, preparation, practice, sacrifice, or effort, that all the heavy lifting to confer the work is being done by the cast moving about on the floor, and that all the organist is doing over there in the corner is having fun.

There are some who rightly look upon the organist's job as an important office, but the remainder who continue in apathy and indifference are largely responsible for the fund of would-be, willing volunteers being desperately low.

(con't in Part II)