Organist Dr Edward E. Harper: from Southport to the Glasgow Athenaeum School of Music, then Kilbarchan – and Overseas

Hands playing the organ - Pixabay image

Welcome to my first podcast – I’m talking about organist Dr Edward E. Harper, the second Principal of Glasgow Athenaeum School of Music, and why I find his story so interesting.

Kilbarchan West Kirk - undergoing construction work, May 2026
Kilbarchan West currently being converted to Flats
Hi! I’m Dr Karen McAulay, a research fellow at the Royal Conservatoire of Scotland.  I study the social history of various aspects, of amateur music-making and music education in Scotland.
This is my first attempt at a podcast, which I’m hosting on my own blog – Karen McAulay, Musicologist.  I’m going to be talking about a little piece of research I’ve been doing, into the life and work of a man who was briefly associated with our institution in the early twentieth century.  I’ll tell you what I’ve been researching, and why I think it’s both interesting and important.


Sometimes a side-hustle can take on a life of its own, before you realise what’s happening.  In my case, this is a piece of research into the intriguing life of Dr Edward Emanuel Harper – that I’ve pursued more out of curiosity than for his connection with my main research topic. Intersecting threads from different aspects of my research, combined with local interest – and a personal interest in organ music – made Harper an almost irresistible target for a research side-project.
Where should I begin?
The first thread is the Athenaeum itself.  Researching for my most recent book on historical Scottish music publishers, the early years of my own institution were obviously of interest – not because the Glasgow Athenaeum School of Music was engaged in music publishing, but because there would obviously be names of local musicians whose work was published either in Scotland or further afield. 
The first Athenaeum School of Music Principal, Allan Macbeth, left in 1902 when the Board decided they didn’t want a Principal who also taught.  Macbeth resigned in a huff, and opened his own music school. I traced a few of Macbeth’s compositions, and I’ve done some research into his life  – but not as extensively as I have for the second Principal, Dr Harper.
Harper had been working in Southport, which is on the north-west English coast between Blackpool and Liverpool.  He came highly recommended.  However, he only held his Athenaeum post for a couple of years (1902-1904), then resigned.  The absence of institutional records for those years means we’ll probably never know why.  Did he jump, or was he pushed? Was it a repetition of the Macbeth situation?  His resignation from a different post, some years later, was attributed in some quarters to a lack of tact, but there could have been extenuating circumstances, and we certainly shouldn’t believe all that we read in newspapers!  Anyway, it was some fifteen years before the Athenaeum School of Music had another Principal.  I outline more of the Athenaeum’s story in my book, A Social History of Amateur Music-Making and Scottish National Identity -but it’s not part of today’s podcast.
The Athenaeum School of Music thread is just one line of enquiry.  An English gentleman who moved to the West of Scotland and only stayed in his prestigious post for two years, may not have made a huge impression on the overall trajectory of the institution. 
Indeed, two years in the life of a man who lived to the age of 75 (or possibly a little older) is barely a drop in the ocean.  However, it did make me curious about the rest of his life!  That’s the second thread – to establish a basic biographical outline for Dr Harper, LRAM.
However, the aspect of most irresistible, and most immediate appeal, was neither Harper’s place in the annals of the Athenaeum, nor the tracing of his life and career, fascinating as it turns out to be.  Instead, it is one particular three-manual organ that Harper played.  This organ, and Harper’s organ-playing, has been my third line of enquiry.
You see, when Harper left the Athenaeum, he remained in the West of Scotland, and became the first organist of a spectacular new organ in the new parish church at Kilbarchan, five miles from Paisley.  The old parish church had been replaced by a large new building at the turn of the century.  The three-manual organ was gifted by an unnamed lady, and was built by an English firm called William Hill and Son.  Harper played for the inaugural recital in Autumn 1904, and stayed for five years.  The Athenaeum’s loss was clearly Kilbarchan’s gain.
And why is this of immediate interest?  It’s because the organ has recently been moved and installed at St Marien, in Prenzlau, Germany.
You see, despite being only a small village, for many years Kilbarchan had two Presbyterian churches – for reasons concerned with mid nineteenth century Church of Scotland politics. The one with the Hill organ was eventually named the West Kirk, and the other the East. In the present century, the churches combined, leaving the West Kirk redundant, and the organ needing a new home.  A home was found, organists and churches liaised, and organ builders got to work on the complex operation of dismantling, transporting and reassembling this substantial instrument.
There’s a festival and weekend conference taking place in mid-May 2026, at its inauguration in Prenzlau. The organist there, Hannes Ludwig, has a Facebook page neatly entitled ‘Hill’s Angels’, about the organs built by this firm, and the excitement about St Marien’s new instrument is – I might say – off the register, in organist circles. It’s a fantastic story.  I really wish I could go to Prenzlau, but I’m already committed to an equally important weekend engagement among.
Kilbarchan isn’t very far from Neilston, where I’m currently organist in the parish church.  The organ I play is smaller than the Kilbarchan instrument – we only have two manuals – ie, keyboards – compared to their three.  And our organ, barely a few years older, was originally powered by a person operating a manual pump.  (The stump of the lever is still visible.)  Their’s was quite possibly powered electrically from the start.  This means the organist could go and practise freely, without needing someone to pump the handle!  And there’s another difference – the Neilston instrument is still tracker action – the notes are sounded by levers connecting the keys to the opening and closing of individual pipes.  The more stops you pull out, the heavier the action.  From what I’ve read, the Kilbarchan instrument was probably always electro-pneumatic.  A bigger instrument, more stops, and less physical effort.
I’m not an organologist – incidentally, that’s actually someone who researches musical instruments of any kind, not just organs. So, what have I been researching?
Well, I’ve got a very detailed chronology of Harper’s life in England before he moved to Glasgow for the Athenaeum post.  I’ve traced where he lived after he left the Ath., and his subsequent life after he emigrated across the Atlantic. 
He seems to have been a teacher not only in institutions, but also as a private music teacher.  However, being an organist is a thread that runs throughout his life.  I’ve traced his professional education and training, and the places where he was organist.  I’m compiling quite a lengthy list of his compositions.  Not much of it is extant, and just one single piece is accessible on IMSLP.   I picked up another rare volume in a local second-hand music shop. It’s a bound volume including three of his pieces from just before he was employed by the Athenaeum. And I’m waiting excitedly for the arrival from America of another collection that I sourced on eBay.  (Having been a music librarian professionally, I do have a certain aptitude for sourcing old music!)  The latter book may not contain particularly demanding music, since it’s for American organ or harmonium, and that means, no pedals.  Nonetheless, if it contains a dozen or so pieces by Harper – AND was published by a Glasgow publisher, possibly after Harper left Scotland – then plainly I had to acquire it!  It metaphorically had my name on it.
So, in short – I’ve researched his life, his career, and his compositional output. From an institutional perspective, I wanted to know the strengths of this individual who was recommended to the Athenaeum by no less than his doctoral supervisor, Ebenezer Prout .  (If you’ve ever sung Handel’s Messiah from an ancient Novello copy, then you’ve held a piece edited by Prout.  He was a big name.) 
I can conclude that Harper was a capable teacher, organist and composer.  His compositions may not have endured any longer than his own lifetime, but he was certainly competent, and I’ll be adding the proper organ pieces to my own repertoire, although I don’t know what the American organ/ harmonium pieces will be like!  Moreover, to judge by a contemporary remark by someone who worked alongside him in his first year overseas, a huge, unquantifiable amount of music seems not even to have been published at all.
In a wider sense, it has underlined just how important a position church organists held in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries.  Of course, I can’t tell how much of his income was earned by being an organist, compared to classroom or private teaching.  I sense that being an organist may have been the main part, but I don’t know enough to reach an informed conclusion here.
When he left Kilbarchan, there were no less than – wait for it – 85 applicants for the vacancy. For a small village, a short train-ride from Paisley, that’s a lot of applicants. There were clearly a lot of organists about, and the three-manual Hill organ was obviously a big draw.  To this day, it’s considered a fine instrument.
He’d never have guessed that by 2015, Kilbarchan West and East churches would have united, and the West Kirk would have been vacated.  Nor that the magnificent three-manual organ would have been relocated to Germany, to such great acclaim.
We went to Kilbarchan earlier this week.  It’s still a small village of only 3,600 or so people, and that could be the largest it has ever been.  I’d have liked to have stood on the doorstep that Dr Harper finally left in summer 1909.  However, there were fences up, and construction workers buzzing around.  It was sold almost exactly a year ago at auction, with planning permission for 17 flats.  
The doors were open, but I wasn’t going to intrude upon a building site.  It felt as though I’d chanced upon a quietly significant moment in time: the organ re-purposed and brought back to glowing life in a new country, and the church itself re-configured for secular use in the present day.  I wonder what Edward Harper would have made of these changes?
We’ll never know!  [pause]
Any more than we’ll know why he left the Athenaeum in Spring 1904!
 

Kilbarchan to Southport to Ottawa to Vancouver: Organist on the Move

So, we’ve talked about the church organ which has been relocated from Kilbarchan  (near Paisley in the west of Scotland) to Prenzlau in Germany.  Well, the first organist to play the instrument in Kilbarchan, went on to travel a whole lot further than that.

Edward Emanuel Harper

I’ve collated a lengthy document about the Glasgow Athenaeum’s second Principal. He was only with us a couple of years, of course. After that, he was Kilbarchan’s organist a little bit longer.

The family went briefly back to Southport, before heading to Ottawa – for a year – and then settled in Vancouver.

My notes are full of clips from newspapers. I traced his first Canadian year as an organist in Ottawa – and some snippets of genealogical data in Vancouver. But nothing of his teaching, and no trace of a large compositional output. I’ve looked at library and archive catalogues. Even a promising entry to his ‘archive’ leads to one piece, contributed anonymously by post in 1971. I’ve seen a digital copy of it. It was self-published.

So What?

You might ask  – I’ve already asked myself  – why I need to know? (Apart from the fact that these little research questions tend to take on a life of their own!)  And I think it’s because Harper was plainly a gifted individual  – a PhD from Dublin, an LRAM, a brilliant proponent of Chopin, sought after as an organist and recitalist, and a prolific composer.

So where is his Canadian output, in manuscript or published?

And what led him to resign from the Athenaeum, seen by many as a ‘plum’ job? Our records are missing for that era. Did we let a genius slip away? Or were there difficulties that history has graciously concealed?!

Image: St Andrew’s Church, Ottawa (Copyright: Jamie McCaffrey, Flickr)

The People’s Song Book No.2 (published by John Leng)

It stands to reason. If I’m researching the John Leng Scots Song competitions, then I might also be interested in this firm’s publications. Not, of course, that there’s any direct link between Leng’s trust fund and the firm’s later publications.  They published general material, magazines and newspapers, and only a handful of music titles.  However, this means that what music they did publish would be of a kind suited to the mass market. 

‘For the people’

Is it any surprise that, amongst the ‘Aunt Kate’s’ housekeeping and embroidery books, there might also be dance music and national songs? Which of course indicates their recognition of how popular national songs actually were.

The mythical ‘Aunt Kate’ enjoyed a song!

This week, I bought the second volume of The People’s Song Book, published in 1915. It’s quite an attractive little book, containing 32 Scottish, 33 English, 35 Irish and 34 Welsh songs.

There’s also a section with 32 of the now distasteful genre of ‘minstrel’ songs at the back – blackface minstrelsy, not the homegrown wandering minstrel variety. They are described more insultingly than that, as was the unfortunate custom of that era.

Curiously, these are indicated as a third series of English songs, lower down the page.  (The second series appeared after the Scottish songs.  Remember, this was the second book, so the ‘first series’ of English songs is presumably there.)

Today, we recognise the English and American origins of the minstrelsy repertoire, but I doubt the compilers were hinting at that.  I have written at some length about such songs in my recent monograph – what’s in the present book is no different to those in the collections I’ve already examined.

Notwithstanding this – because we have to recognise that the book is a product of its age, whatever our more informed modern opinion – it would be a strange scholar that acquired book 2, but wasn’t curious about book 1, so I’m excited now to be repatriating the first volume from Virginia.  Perhaps some expat took it with them in their trunk, or had it sent to them as a keepsake?  And now it’s coming home – it feels appropriate.

First song in the 2nd book – emigration!

The funny thing about Virginia  – on a completely unrelated note – is that, a quarter of a century ago, I attended a librarianship interview in Richmond. I didn’t succeed  – but I did start my doctoral studies at home in Glasgow, a year or two later.  None of what I’ve subsequently done, would have been done at all, if I’d become yet another emigrant like those of a century before.

And now a little national song book is making its way home to me.  I’ll be sure to make it welcome!

And More?

Book 1 may answer an intriguing question that arose yesterday. I’m impatient!

Related Post:

You may also like to read my blog post of 20 March, Repatriated to the UK: the first People’s Song Book

Shhh! What Granny Didn’t Want Them to Know

The closed lock of an old suitcase

Tracking Irish Emigrants from Cork to USA and London

My third audio book just came up as a new publication when I logged onto Audible. Its title appealed to me. Additionally, since my own [in-the-pipeline] monograph touches upon emigration in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, then if Clair Wills’ book touched upon that, I was definitely interested.

Clair Wills, Missing Persons, or, My Grandmother’s Secrets (Penguin Audible, 2024)

The book describes the author’s extensive efforts to find out more about illegitimate births in her own Irish family; the adults involved, and the secrecy surrounding what had happened. The scandal of the Irish mother-and-baby homes during the twentieth century is naturally a significant focus, but the author also examines the part of the Irish Catholic Church; the local authorities; adoption; single mothers; questions of respectability and inheritance; of shame; of emigration (to America, and to England); of stigma and suicide; along with changing attitudes towards the end of the twentieth century. Since I’m neither Irish nor Roman Catholic, I was sure it would be informative – and it was.

It’s a moving, and multi-faceted narrative. Just when I was beginning to ask myself, ‘So, if the mother-and-baby homes were a twentieth century scandal, what happened before that?’, Wills explains how things gradually changed from the second half of the nineteenth century into the early twentieth, along with the political changes. The unbearable tragedies for the mothers and babies were too many to enumerate, but we’re reminded that the outcome for a young Irishman fleeing to life as an itinerant labourer in England was hardly what any young adult man would have hoped for, either.

Did any of this have any bearing on my own research? Not really, except to provide me with some statistics about emigration from Ireland that were far higher than I had imagined – and I already knew they were high. Moreover, my own musicological research really only requires me to say, ‘There was a lot of emigration from the Highlands and Ireland, usually for work.’ After all, I write about national songbooks, and their appeal to emigrants. If I was going to give more detail, I could, I suppose, add, ‘and sometimes, especially in Ireland, to make a fresh start where an illegitimate pregnancy made it expedient for either party.’ But to be honest, songs about missing your homeland – or even your sweetheart back in the old country – aren’t likely to go into specifics about babies born in inconvenient circumstances.

However, reading Audible books during a period of forced inactivity, doesn’t mean they have to be connected with research. It’s an unaccustomed luxury to listen to books for hours on end, and I’d recommend this one. I have six more titles lined up, but I don’t think I’ll start them today. I like to let the memory of one sink in, before beginning another.