On June 24, 1982, the village of Malgersdorf, located in the Rottal-Inn district, narrowly escaped a disaster. In the early morning had a Starfighter Drilled into a field on the edge of the settlement, the area was shaken by an explosion. Eyewitnesses said the pillar of fire was as high as the church tower. The pilot could have saved himself with the ejection seat, but then it would be Starfighter crashed into the middle of the place. Instead, he pulled the plane up at the last second. On a plaque on the church wall it is written: “He gave his life for our freedom.”
The chronicle of the community of Malgersdorf, which has a good 1250 inhabitants, is rich in accidents, floods and war battles. After all, there is a kindergarten, a school and plenty of shops, “otherwise the place would be dead,” says the Second Mayor Ludwig Brunner, who also heads the local brass band and the choir and is the director of the volunteer fire brigade. When you talk to this very down-to-earth man, you learn things that you wouldn’t necessarily have expected in the inconspicuous town of Malgersdorf. For example, that the Trauners, close relatives of the former super minister Maximilian von Montgelas, owned the castle that rises directly across from the parish church of St. Stephen. Or that ancestors of the GDR spy Günther Guillaume lived in Malgersdorf, because of whom Willy Brandt had to resign from the office of Federal Chancellor in 1974.
Back then, in the mid-1970s, a plan matured that was to bring Malgersdorf another curiosity that is unlikely to exist any more, as Ludwig Brunner proudly explains. A guest should never leave Malgersdorf, he says, without having visited the church organ, a small wonder of the world with wonderful stories attached to it.
Some still know that the Sundays of the church year each have their own names, for example they are called Quasimodogeniti, Jubilate and Exaudi. In Malgersdorf, however, there were also so-called spotlight Sundays in the 1970s, as Brunner explains with a smile. The name goes back to the pastor Walter Striedl (1926-1999), who, in retrospect, can be described as an organ fool with a clear conscience.
Kapellmeister and choir director Ludwig Brunner at the organ console. Usually three young organists take turns at the church services in Malgersdorf.
(Photo: Sophie Linckersdorff)
On the aforementioned spotlight Sundays, everything revolved around the dear money. “Believers should rather throw bills into the bell bag instead of coins,” says Brunner, who was still the chief administrator at the time. Pastor Striedl dreamed of a new organ, which, however, cost a fortune. “After all, a spotlight Sunday raised between 20,000 and 30,000 marks,” recalls Brunner. The pastor then put the sum that was in the bag at the end from his private box on top of it. In this way several hundred thousand marks were raised, and Striedl was able to realize the mammoth project in 1976/77 without subsidies.
“Nobody would approve this organ today.”
Today, Brunner estimates, this organ made by Friedrich Meier in Plattling would cost more than a million euros. It is not as big as the Passau cathedral organ, but it will be difficult to find a similarly voluminous instrument in a village church anywhere in the world. “The concept of the Meier organ is unique in Germany and represents an absolute curiosity in the organ world”, sums up the Wiki organ database “Organ index”. If you look around the church, you can see pipes on every wall, the choir is enthroned above the console, the encased Spanish trumpets catch the eye on the parapet, and the main organ of the organ is emblazoned on the north wall of the church.
The Spanish trumpets in the parapet had to be encased with Plexiglas to reduce their volume.
(Photo: Sophie Linckersdorff)
“Nobody would approve this organ today,” says Brunner. It is much too big and has too many sound crowns. But Striedl was not deterred. When the side wall was broken through to make space for the organ, Excellencies from the diocese and from the Monument Office suddenly stood in the church. “Stop immediately!” Demanded the strict men from the pastor. Striedl only said: “Gentlemen, there is the door, now please go out again!”
The mood was irritable, and the pastor was repeatedly warned to stop construction. “But Striedl was a revolutionary. He did what he wanted,” says Brunner on the way to the chancel. This also explains that he naturally played the organ himself, which is why he kept rushing from the altar to the console and back during mass. For that reason alone it was necessary to place the gaming table near the altar, another curiosity.
A photograph of Striedl playing the organ hangs on the wall next to the console. “Whenever he noticed that the children were inattentive, he would hit the organ with his hand,” recalls Brunner. The next day he regretted his outburst and handed out Guatl and sweets as a reconciliation.
For Christmas, Striedl had special registers built in, such as the glockenspiel, gong bells and the shawm oboe, all of which are sound elements that many other organs do not have. “At Christmas in particular, Striedl offered everything the instrument could offer in terms of organ technology,” says Brunner. The new organ conjured up unheard sounds into the church, and seats soon had to be given out in order to cope with the rush of visitors. “Today these registers would be priceless,” says Brunner, who is now sitting at the console and slowly bringing the organ’s 3722 pipes to life. Sometimes they sound so soft, as if the angels of Advent are humming, then their roar swells, as if a storm were chasing the fields. Some sound crowns create the illusion that invisible forces are buzzing back and forth through the church.
Of course, such a system has to be kept in good working order at all times, and that is extremely expensive. Local companies, says Brunner, no longer dared to go there because of the electronics. “Too complex for us,” they say. It used to be easier with the mechanically operated organs. For example with the previous organ, which is still on the gallery, but has been hollowed out inside. This instrument was built by the organ builder Edenhofer in Regen in 1886. The mother of the comedian Liesl Karlstadt came from that family – everything is interrelated.
Instead of going to Rome, the pastor ended up in the Eggenfelden hospital
Striedl also occasionally provided comedy. “He did study theology, but the purpose of his life was music,” says Brunner. In addition, a passion for football burned in the heart of the gifted musician and pastor. Sometimes it happened, Brunner recalls, that he only talked about FC Bayern in the sermon. Or he listed the reasons why SV Malgersdorf had lost again in the district class. This was less popular with the very pious churchgoers.
It was a heartfelt wish of Striedl to sing with the Malgersdorfer Kantorei in the Church of the Holy Sepulcher in Rome, i.e. with the patron saint of church music, whose sculpture also hangs in the Malgersdorfer Church. In May 1999 the trip was finally booked. But shortly before leaving, Striedl fell over a doorstep and ended up in the Eggenfelden hospital instead of in Rome. He died there on the night of June 14, shortly after the choir sang in Rome without him. Striedl’s grave is directly adjacent to the sacristy, resting only a few meters from his beloved organ.